#do you really think he wouldn’t have some shit to say about his son listening to a band that wears spandex and makeup idc how many slurs

[rigginsstreet]

The way this fandom totally overlooks context too is like…damn y’all really are stupid rip

[ghcstao3]

been on a hunger games kick lately so. ghoapifying time!! yippee yahoo

(edit: extra because i felt a little silly)

-

Simon isn’t much when his name is reaped, just days after he’d turned 18. He’s scrawny, starved, scarred—being from District 10, the only thing he’s ever known is butchery, so maybe he’s of use with knives, but it really means nothing to him. Not when his older brother Tommy had gotten killed by Peacekeepers, not when his mother had died of illness, not when his father couldn’t give less of a shit when his youngest son is sent to die.

So all he can do is accept his fate. All he can do is listen to his mentor, train in the fleeting days he has left, and try to survive. No matter if the odds would never, ever be in his favour.

Simon doesn’t remember much from the days leading to the games. All he can really recall is the absurd pageantry and the lack of privacy, though it had been nice to be freed from the stench of blood, if only for a few days. It was nice, not having grime beneath his fingernails.

If he’s honest, he doesn’t remember much from the Games, either. Simon hadn’t made allies, didn’t need to—even his necessary loyalty to the girl from his district was tentative at best. She would still come down to being another competitor, in the end. Simon didn’t want to die, he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

And he doesn’t. He wins, somehow—maybe out of spite. Maybe out of fear, or out of vengeance. Simon doesn’t know.

All he knows is that he hates the man he’d become in that arena.

* * *

Johnny was born and raised in the Capitol. Maybe not in a family that was the richest of the rich, but still much better off than anyone found in the districts. He’s only ever known some sense of luxury, has never encountered the cruelty of the real world, and continues to stand to benefit from the pain of others.

But even then, he does eventually recognize the faults and evilness of the system.

Eventually.

Because as a boy, he had loved the Games. Before having any sense of consequence or the realness of these people and their deaths, Johnny had been just as enraptured by it all as everyone else. He watched with interest, just as entertained as he was meant to be. The Games had been awe-inspiring to him as they are to most other Capitol children.

He still remembers Simon’s game. Ghost, as the boy from District 10 had been called, having earned the nickname from an uncanny ability to seemingly appear out of nowhere and make that cannon fire one more time. Johnny had been 15, then, still an avid watcher of this slaughter-show—but he’ll always recall that game the most, because of Simon.

Simon was shy, and awkward—but the Capitol had loved it. Loved him. And Johnny had just as well, albeit for some different reasons. Because along with everything the Capitol admired about Simon (which was mostly superficial), Johnny admired his resilience. His persistence, his triumph. He had thought, back then, that he could only ever wish to be like the boy from District 10. He’d never been so enamoured with a tribute, a victor like that before.

That was seven years ago, and things have since… changed. Not enough to be different, but enough for Johnny to notice. Enough for him to finally understand that these Games are far more than he had ever been led to believe. He just didn’t know to what extent.

Johnny is freshly 22 when he meets Simon. A friend of Johnny’s (in the loosest of terms), Philip Graves, tells him that he’d gotten a special birthday gift for Johnny that year—and while usually Johnny might be skeptical or uncaring, given Graves’ track record, it’s what he says about this gift that has Johnny… panicking?

“Remember that victor you used to have a crush on? Well, I finally managed to get in a request.”

Before Johnny can ask what he means, two Peacekeepers—escorts—are entering the room with Simon in tow.

Graves grins almost predatorily before standing and patting Johnny on the shoulder like he means to be friendly. Like he thinks he’s given Johnny all he could ask for.

And in maybe some sense he has, but not like this. Not like this.

“Enjoy the next few days, Johnny,” Graves is saying. “He’s all yours.”

Johnny thinks he might be sick. The threat of bile in his throat only grows more intense one he’s left alone with Simon.

The victor looks… different, since his time in the public eye. Bulkier, likely from a steady supply of food for the first time in his life; objectively healthier. Skin smooth, porcelain, like he hadn’t seen a day of suffering in his life. Every aspect of him perfectly tailored, manicured, prim, like a clean slate for his current proprietor.

He still has that rugged kind of handsomeness to him, though. The Capitol could change many things, but they could never take that look of fierce determination from his dark, knowing eyes.

“How do you want me?” Simon asks softly. Johnny can tell there’s still fight thrumming beneath his skin, but they both could guess what would happen if that were to be let free.

“I… don’t,” Johnny says before he can help himself. At the shift in Simon’s expression he feels his heart drop, so he adds quickly, “Sorry, that’s not—I don’t mean it like that. I just never realized…”

Simon tilts his head, curious, assessing. “Never realized what?”

“That you…” Johnny swallows hard. He takes a shuddering breath, nervous, like he isn’t the one with more power here. Like he’s the prey—and maybe he is. “Could be bought.”

Simon shrugs a shoulder, nonchalant like the idea of being bought and sold like an object is hardly a bother to him. There’s hurt in those eyes, but it doesn’t live anywhere else on his face. “There’s a lot of things you might not know outside of your world of luxury.”

Johnny’s gaze falls the floor. “Yes,” he sighs. “I’m sure there is.”

A tense silence falls over them, for just a moment, before Simon is shuffling across the room to join Johnny on the sofa. He sits close, but doesn’t touch.

“So,” Simon’s insisting, “how do you want me?”

Johnny doesn’t know if he’ll survive these next few days.

Perhaps he should at least be grateful that the transaction is on Graves’ hands.

[nerdygoth77]

Some of my favorite Porter Gage lines!

“Keep your irradiated ASS away from me” 

“Boss”  

“Piss me off and I’ll still kick your ass from here to the Atlantic.” 

“Sure was fun! Huh Boss?” 

“I ain’t got the brains for mazes” 

“How's it go? “This town ain't big enough for you and me?” Awh nevermind :(“ 

“Ain't no way people paid for this shit, I refuse to believe it.” 

“Who the hell's idea of fun was this shit?”

“Ever feel the tiniest bit hurt that the institute hasn’t tried to replace you with a synth? I mean c’mon! I’m important. I-I’m worth replacing......” 

“Think about it…. If beer is still good after two hundred years.. Is it really something worth drinking?” 

“Personally, wouldn’t ever trust anyone to knock me out with gas or whatever, even if they claimed they were going to help.” 

“Can you imagine… having so much extra shit you’d need someplace to store it all” 

“Not paying ATTENTION-” (I fuck up a lot and trigger traps LOL)

“Not a big fan of being underground, so the sooner we wrap this up the better.” 

“Once upon a time, I suppose folks had nothing better to do than sit around outside”

“Greeaaat, because I ain’t seen enough trees and grass.” 

“Like I hadn’t already seen enough glowing shit to last a lifetime.” 

“Believe it or not, this is more civilized than some places i've lived”

"One of these bugs ever takes me down you tell people I died from trippin’ over my gun, fallin’ off a cliff, anything! It would be less embarrassing.” 

“Places like this….Makes me realize life was mostly shit before the bombs fell” 

“God…. Being in here is soul sucking.” 

“I hope you know where you’re going, I forgot my map.” 

“Least we ain't gotta worry about being hit by a train…..Right?”

“No question that shit was made to last…Maybe the wrong shit but still.”

“Me? I like night time. Something about it just feels right.” 

“You’re a real stunner, ya know that?”

“Are you shittin’ me” 

“Ever seen a dust angel? Bettin’ I could make one.” 

“Shiiiiitt I hate getting weeettt” 

“I’ve got a strong stomach, but ewwugh.” 

“You’re my kind of crazy boss.” 

“Boy do I love watching you work.” 

“Anyone ever tell you….your ass looks great in that vault suit.” 

“Don’t know about you, but I can’t see in the dark.” 

“You’ll always be the overboss of my heart- Hehehehe I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t keep a straight face.”

“Blamo” 

“Sheeeeeettt” 

“Don't mind me, just throwing up a bit in my mouth here.” 

“Damn, I hate insects. Like I needed something else to wipe off my fucking shoes” 

“VerMIN”

Everything. Just everything he says is wonderful. His voice is so fucking sexy.

"I'm not that big of a dick"

"Bullshit. Without me I'd be scraping your guts off the floor"

"Before you start pissing all over the plan, why don't you take a minute to hear me out."

"You ready to listen?"

"You're one ruthless son of a bitch aren't ya?"

"Awwwhh C'mon :("

"Just give this a chance, you might even have a little fun."

"Tell yuh whut."

"Everything all peachy with our friendly neighborhood psychopaths?"

"Welcome home, boss."

"I knew you had it in you."

"Next, the fun stuff."

"You look like shit."

He refers to getting high as "Getting blitz." LOL

"Well that oughta make things more interesting"

"hehehe OOPS."

"The fun we can have in this thing!"

"That one have pictures in it?"

"I like a good haul as much as the next guy-"

"You sure you got everything? There's a few more rocks you haven't picked up."

"I never had the hands for that kind of shit. Glad you do."

"You got some nimble fingers there huh?"

"You okay?" (When he shows concern?? UGH)

"Well now, would you look at that."

"Oh for the love of-"

"You gonna build me something nice?"

"Lookin good, Boss."

"oooh, gutsy."

"Pretty tough mutt you got there." (Any dialogue about Dogmeat is great)

"Aww, look at how nice and clean this is, and I here am, dirtying the place up." (one of my favorites)

There's so so many more but I didn't want this to get crazy long

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Like Water

A one-shot written for Day 4 of Jily Week 2024, run by the very lovely @sunshinemarauder and @kay-elle-cee, and inspired by the theme Flip the Script - take a characteristic from one, and give it to the other. I chose to be very literal with this one!

1.9k words

Rated T

James won't shut up, and Sirius finally loses his patience, with unfortunate consequences for more than one person.

Ho hum - I don't love this one, but I want me some of those participation badges!

Anyway - read below, or on AO3!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James Potter lay upside down on his bed in the fifth year dormitory, hands behind his head, feet on his pillow. “I don’t think you understand, Pads. I don’t think you’d actually notice unless you really looked at it properly - but when you do, it’s just… extraordinary.” 

Sirius, lounging on his own bed, didn’t look up from the Muggle motorcycle magazine he’d ‘liberated’ from Flich’s office during their last detention. “You don’t say.”

“I think he did, Padfoot,” observed Remus, wryly. “I think he said it not five minutes ago. And this morning. And yesterday. And… actually now I come to think about it, is there a day he hasn’t said it recently?”

Sirius sighed. “There has not, Moony. And it’s getting really old.”

James grinned. “Well perhaps if you’d all actually listen to me, I wouldn’t need to keep telling you.”

“I’ll listen to you, Prongs,” volunteered Peter, perched, cross-legged, on his bunk.

“Thank you, Wormy. At least one of you has a shred of loyalty!”

“I’ve got plenty of loyalty, I’ll have you know” complained Sirius. “What I don’t have is much more patience.”

James flipped himself over so that he was lying on his stomach, supporting himself on his elbows. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.” 

“You were going to bang on about Evans’s hair again, weren’t you?” predicted Sirius

“No,” insisted James, doing his best to sell the lie. “I was going to talk about something completely different.”

Sirius gave him a pitying look. “Prongs. Mate.”

“Yeah, okay, I was,” he admitted. “But it’s just so amazing! No one else in the whole school has hair quite the same colour.”

“There’s loads of gingers, Prongs,” Sirius told him, lazily turning the page of his magazine

“But Evans isn’t ginger - her hair is auburn,” James explained, reverentially, caressing the word in his mouth.

Sirius shrugged. “Still ginger, mate.”

But James was uninterested. “It isn’t just the colour though. It’s so thick and silky. Like water.”

“Water isn’t thick. Or silky,” observed Remus

James waved his hand dismissively. “It’s a metaphor.”

“Yeah. A really shit one,” snorted Sirius.

“I was referring to the way it flows down her back,” James told him, feeling a bit defensive.  “You know, all swishy. I wonder what it feels like?”

Sirius summoned a quill and circled an advert in the For Sale section. “No one else cares, Prongs.” 

James ignored his scathing tone. “I bet it feels amazing. Really silky.”

“Like water?” sniggered Peter.

James ignored that too. “I’d love to run my fingers through it.” 

Sirius flicked him an irritated glance. “Kinda got that impression already, mate.”

“It probably smells really good too,” pondered James, with a faraway look in his eye.

Remus looked mildly disturbed. “Alright, now you’re getting creepy.”

“I am not!” James was indignant. “I just can’t help noticing hair. It’s in my blood, isn’t it? I am my father’s son, after all.”

Sirius laughed. “I mean yes? That is generally how it works?” 

James stuck two fingers up at Sirius. “Twat.”

“Dullard,” his best friend countered.

James thought for a moment, then gave him a broad grin. “You know what isn’t dull? Lily’s hair isn’t dull. In fact, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, it’s actually incredibly shiny.”

And that was what proved to be the last straw for Sirius’s patience. “You know what, Prongs. If you love Evan’s hair so much, I think you should have it.”

He flicked his wand in James’s direction, muttering an incantation under his breath. James’s head suddenly felt very warm. His scalp tingled uncomfortably for a few seconds, and then hair fell forward over his face - his long, thick, shiny, auburn hair. 

Sirius, Remus and Peter all dissolved into fits of hysterical laughter as James pushed it frantically out of his eyes. “What the hell have you done, Pads!” 

He dashed across the room to where a mirror hung on the wall. “Ooh! Well don’t you look a picture, sweetheart,” it trilled.

“Still in love with Evan’s hair, Prongs?” Sirius asked, through the laughter.

“Oh, you utter tosser!” raged James.

“Red really suits you, Prongs,” contributed Remus. “Brings out your eyes.”

James wheeled round and glared at Sirius. “I cannot believe that you did that!”

“Chill out, Prongs,” advised Sirius. “It’ll wear off eventually, so just enjoy it while it lasts. You know, run your fingers through it. Smell it. Whatever other weird shit you want to do with it.”

As Sirius talked, James became aware of a commotion in the distance. It seemed to be coming from the common room - shouting and more laughter. Then there were footsteps, echoing on the stone steps leading to the fifth year boys dormitory. The door was hurled open, so violently that it bounced against the stone wall with a loud bang, making them all jump.

In the doorway stood Lily Evans. At least, James thought it was Lily Evans. She had the same perfect willowy figure, the same hypnotic green eyes, and the same utterly furious expression that she usually wore around him. However, instead of her long, thick, shiny and (James could now confirm) great smelling auburn hair, she had a horribly familiar mop of messy jet black curls.

“James Potter!” she yelled. “What the hell have you done!”

Lily stared at James. James stared at Lily. Peter’s eyes darted frantically between the two of them. Remus took one look and then pointedly opened his Arithmancy text book. Sirius went extremely pale.

“It wasn’t me!” yelped James.

“Then explain to me why I have your hair, and why you have mine,” she practically growled at him. “Now!”

James glanced at his best friend. The person he thought of as a brother. The one that he would do anything for, protect from any harm, to whom he felt more loyalty than any other. “It was Sirius,” he blurted, without a single hesitation. “He did it!”

Lily shot a look of such venom onto Sirius that he physically recoiled. “And why, in the name of Merlin, would you do that?”

Now it was James’s turn to throw a menacing look at his best mate, silently forbidding him from throwing James under the graphorn and recounting the conversation that had so irked him. 

Fortunately for James, Sirius’s sense of loyalty held firm. “I… Uh… I thought it would be a laugh,” he stammered, shaken out of his usual insouciance by the scale of her fury.

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” demanded Lily. “Fix it! Now!”

“I don’t know how! I didn’t mean for you to get James’s hair, Evans! I only meant for him to get yours. So I…” he trailed off, spots of bright pink colouring his pale cheeks

“You what?” she asked, icily.

“I didn’t bother working out the counter spell,” he confessed.

“Oh dear god,” muttered Lily. “You're an utter imbecile, Black!” Shaking her head, she turned her ire back on James instead. “Well come on then, Potter. You’re the transfiguration genius. Un-transfigure us!”

And he tried. He really did - because no matter how gorgeous Lily’s hair was, he much preferred admiring it on her head rather than his own. Unfortunately, despite his best efforts. nothing he did made even the slightest bit of difference. 

“In fairness,” commented Remus, acknowledging them all for the first time since Lily’s arrival, “human transfiguration is N.E.W.T. level stuff. I’m quite surprised that Padfoot managed it in the first place.”

“Piss off!” declared Sirius.

“Not helpful, either of you,” commented James, through gritted teeth.

“So what do we do now?” Lily asked him. “I want my hair back!”

“Only one thing we can do,” James sighed. “We go and see McGonagall.”

“Good luck,” offered Sirius - but Lily was having none of it.

“Oh, no - you’re not wriggling out of it that easily, Black!’ she announced, grabbing Sirius by the elbow and hauling him to his feet. “You’re going to come with us and explain to Professor McGonagall exactly what you did and exactly how you did it. She’s going to need to know if she’s going to fix it.”

Lily practically dragged Sirius down the stairs and out through the common room, to a chorus of laughter and catcalls. James, after carefully checking that Lily wasn’t looking, couldn’t resist playing to the audience, dramatically swishing Lily’s hair back and forth over his shoulders. It also gave him an excuse to sneakily run his fingers through it a few times, and verify that it was every bit as wonderfully silky as he’d imagined.

They located Professor McGonagall in her office. To her enormous credit, the deputy headmistress managed (well, mostly) to keep a straight face as she delivered a lecture on inappropriate magic use, the dangers of human transfiguration, and the utmost importance of being prepared with counter spells. She then docked five points from Gryffindor for Sirius’s misdemeanour, before setting about restoring James and Lily’s hair to the appropriate heads. 

By the time the three of them left McGonagall’s classroom, Lily was much calmer. She was still extremely frosty with Sirius, but appeared to bear James no particular ill-will (for once). Emboldened, he caught her arm as Sirius ambled off down the corridor heading back towards the common room. 

“Uh - Evans?”

“Yes?”

“I… uh… I just wanted to say sorry about all that.”

“Why? It wasn’t your fault, was it?”

“No.” No, it isn’t my fault that my best mate is a massive twat, even though he didn’t tell you that the reason he did it was because I wouldn’t stop banging on about how amazing your hair is, thus saving me from total humilation, James thought to himself. “But still.”

“Well, no harm done.” And then she smiled at him - an honest-to-Merlin, actual, genuine smile, and James thought he might have died and gone to heaven. “Don’t tell Sirius this, but I suppose it was quite funny. If you weren’t the one lumbered with your hair, of course.”

“Just imagine being lumbered with it permanently,” he  replied, ruefully, pushing his hand roughly through the thatch on his head. 

She raised her eyebrows. “You’d have preferred to keep mine?”

“Oh! No,” he clarified. “Having long hair was an interesting experience, but it looks better on you, I think. A lot better.”

“Thank you.” Now, James could have been imagining it, but did she blush at the compliment? Maybe just the tiniest bit? “Short hair felt really weird, to be honest. My neck was cold! And I was surprised at how soft it was.” 

She stopped talking with the tiniest intake of breath, her eyes widening, and now James was sure she definitely was blushing; Clearly, she hadn’t meant to confess to that last part. Thrilled with the knowledge, James couldn’t resist fishing for more. “You touched it?”

“Force of habit, I suppose,” she replied, briskly. “Well. I have an essay that I need to be getting on with. Goodnight, Potter.”

She didn’t wait for a reply, just hurried away down the corridor. Smiling softly, James let himself slouch back against the wall and watched her go, her auburn hair swinging to and fro as she walked. He didn’t move again until she’d turned the corner and her footsteps faded into the distance.

“Night, Evans,” he whispered.

[dellalyra]

FAMILY FORMATIONS PART THIRTEEN

Summary: Megumi asks you about the strange unknown man he fought in Shibuya.

CW: sad, soft, canon typical violence

A/N: this is short and kinda shit but I thought of this idea and it wormed into my brain and now I’m here :) I liked the idea of a moment between reader and megumi between *the megumi bad thing* and Shibuya, Satoru’s gone she’s vulnerable megumi is vulnerable just raw yaknow

Recommended Listening:

Favourite Crime - Olivia Rodrigo

10am Gare du Nord - Keaton Henson

You rifled through the cupboards in the kitchen of some stranger – long gone now, avoiding the destructive chaos of the culling games.

Yuuji, showering. Everyone else, resting maybe? Dead? Stuck in a box like your husband? You don’t know.

The empty pit of fear swirling in your stomach was driving you to madness, but you were grounded by the presence of a tall, raven-haired boy leaning on the counter beside you.

You found some ramen, throwing it into a pot so you could at least manage to feed these boys after all of you had been trying to navigate this cruel imitation of a reality show all day.

Megumi, out of the corner of your eye – was staring holes into the ground by his shoes.

Asking him what’s up seemed futile, what wasn’t up? Everything had fallen apart, and you were using every fibre of your being to hold everything and everyone together until you could figure out what the fuck you, we’re going to do.

“Spill it, Mr. Fushiguro.” You say, elbowing his side.

He rolls his eyes at you, half-heartedly.

You sit on the stool by the bar in this stranger's kitchen.

“‘Gumi, it’s just us now. Talk to me.”

He kicks his shoes against the linoleum floor. He’s silent for a moment and you think maybe, he’s not going to talk.

“Back there, in Shibuya. When we were all separated. There was a man. I fought him. Only for a minute but… he, he acted like he knew me.” He looked at the ceiling.

“You’re a talented sorcerer in your own right, a Zen’in by birth and adopted son of the Gojo and Y/L/N clan. People are gonna target you, no matter how much I try to stop them.” You smile sadly.

“No, not like that. It was like – he knew me. He asked my name; I told him, and he just said “Fushiguro huh? Good for you, kid.’ And then he…”

The pause was enough to tell you it was bugging him.

“He what, honey?”

“Stabbed himself in the head.”

Well, fuck, that wasn’t what you expected. You tried to think of who it could have been, was it fear of Megumi’s strength, of the battle that drove this man to suicide? Why did the Fushiguro name affect him so badly.

To try and place the man so your son could put a name to the face and end his mental gymnastics, you ask.

“What did he look like?”

“He was tall, maybe an inch or two shorter than –” Satoru. An inch or two shorter than Satoru. He was worried about your reaction to his name.

“Really strong, built like a wrestler. Dark hair, kinda looked like me to be honest. Had this scar on his lip?” He finished.

You dropped the bowl in your hand, and it shattered to the ground in tiny pieces as everything you’d believed was questioned in a millisecond in your frazzled mind.

The crash made Megumi jump.

“What? Do you know him?” He asked.

You turn to him, face like you’d seen a ghost – but it wasn’t you who had seen the ghost.

“He, looked like you and had a scar on his lip?” You ask, Megumi looking at you with concern and surprise.

“Yeah, who was it? I’ve never seen you this jumpy – who was that guy?”

Fuck, you wish you had Satoru here. Do you tell him? How do you tell him? Should you tell him? There had been no parenting book for raising the kids of the man who’d killed your husband and then your husband had killed – and there was certainly no guidance on how to tell your son that the man who committed suicide in front of him so he wouldn’t have to fight him – was in fact, his father.

But Toji Fushiguro was dead. You’d seen the body.

He was very, very dead.

If he was dead, how was in in Shibuya?

The séance.

It clicked into place. A ghost from the past, the sorcerer killer. The old woman. But nobody would dare use Toji Fushiguro as a pawn or a puppet - he’d regained his sense of self and found his son.

His blessing.

Your blessing.

You had to tell him; he deserved the truth.

Snapping from your trance – you motioned the boy to sit beside you.

“Megumi. The man you spoke to, the man who asked your name. He was happy you’d taken your mother’s name, instead of Zen’in. Megumi, that man, my sweet boy, – was your father. It was Toji Fushiguro.” You clasp his hand.

“But he’s dead. Dad, Satoru, killed him.” He said, in disbelief.

“He was resurrected as a puppet, but your father was a stubborn man – so I’m guessing he retook control.”

“But then why did he kill himself.”

“He killed himself, Megumi, because – he refused to fight or hurt his own son. He knew it was you, and returning to death was a better option.” A part of you prays thanks to Toji – for having the sense to not put his, your, son through that.

Megumi was silent for a moment.

“I didn’t recognise him.” He spoke.

“You were so young when he died, it’s not surprising.” You push his hair out of his face, a fruitless endeavour really.

You let him soak it in for a moment.

“It’s okay to be sad, he was your father. No matter what else he did or didn’t do.”

“I’m not sad, I pity him.” He spoke.

“Me too, Megumi. Your father was a lost soul, but one thing I do know – is he didn’t name you his blessing for nothing, he loved you – but losing your mother broke him. I can tell you one thing for sure, that I’m certain of: he is proud of you. I know that because he barely knew you and felt pride. I know you like the back of my hand and pride isn’t a big enough word for what – what, Satoru and I feel.” You turn his face to look at you, and you smile softly.

“Thanks for telling me the truth. I’m, um, gonna kick Itadori out of the shower before the hot water runs out so I can have one too.” He stands from the stool.

You know he needs space to process.

You nod and mention continuing making some food. As he reaches the door the the bedroom with the en-suite, he turns.

“They may have been my mother and father, but um, they - they’re not my mom and dad.” He says, eyes downcast but flicking up to look at you. Your throat constricts with tears and before you can reply, he’s gone inside the room.

You look to the sky, sending thanks to Megumi’s birth mother – for allowing you the chance to raise the blessing that boy is.

[gabessquishytum]

tw suicide mentioned

So Hob doesn’t understand why people don’t love live, he feels like one of the only people who actually has a will to live. so of course he decides to work for a suicide hotline. And things are going good, he’s helping people. and then M calls. “I see no reason left to live,”

“oh um, hello…”

“you have two minutes to convince me otherwise”

“woah woah woah, where are you?” Hob asked feeling frantic. the stranger on the other end of the line sighs, “on the ledge of my building why else would I be calling you?”

Hob is about to dial 911, “could I pursued you to get off the ledge and back into your house?”

the stranger sighs, and hob hears some shuffling and then a door clicking closed. ok good, not in imminent danger.

“you said you wanted reasons to live yes?”

“Indeed, I do not understand why someone would want an eternity of this,” the stranger grumbled.

“I want to live to be a hundred! I’d say that’s pretty close to eternity as for reasons to live Have you considered…chimneys?”

“excuse me?”

“chimneys are fantastic you know, we wouldn’t have had that seen from Mary poppins and handkerchiefs! Where would we be without hankies? I’m sure in a lot grosser society,”

the stranger sighs, “something from this century Mr…”

“Hob, Hob Gadling, now let’s see was ac this century?”

“no”

“how about iPhones?”

“I will not live for an iPhone,”

“what about love?” Shit, he crossed a line.

“she left me… took our son too”

“oh…”

They spent the next hour talking Hob talked about his dead wife and being a single father while the stranger gave the first letter of his name. Fair trade.

M hung up feeling a little more optimistic and Hob gave himself a pat on the back for a good job.

“Hob could you come here?” Ronnie wasn’t the chatty type so hob assumed something was very wrong.

“hey Ronnie, what’s up?”

“well um there’s a man whose been calling everyday and he’s been asking for you specifically…” Ronnie blushed.

“Can you transfer the call to my phone?”

Ronnie obliged.

Hob picked up the phone preparing for the worst. “is this…Hob Gadling?”

it was M! Hob was mortified.

“M what are you doing calling everyday, is something wrong?”

“no, I’m fine, I feel better than I have in a long time. I was trying to reach you to say thank you and to…chat”

hob sighed, “M I’ve got a job,”

he heard a defeated whimper on the other end.

“Alright alright I’ll give, listen I’m not supposed to do this get out a pen and paper cause I won’t say it twice.”

and hob gave M his personal phone number.

and suddenly Morpheus and Hob had something new to live for, love.

-🦎

Ohhh boy yeah I can totally see this playing out! I'm definitely super fascinated by the idea of Hob working/volunteering on a crisis hotline. Especially when he's kind of at the opposite end of the spectrum. I do think he'd be genuinely interested in why people experience such drastically different views on life. Maybe he'd hope that his own outlook on life could be helpful. He knows that he's lucky - it's time to give back to the community and appreciate exactly how lucky he is to have good mental health.

M is the person who really teaches Hob about what its like to struggle. But still, he hopes that he might have made a difference. Maybe it was dumb to talk about chimneys and love, but it did get M to open up! Hob has so many hopes for the man, and he's secretly thrilled that he actually gets an update that M is feeling hopeful too! It's against all the rules, but talking to M - Morpheus - every day... Hob feels like it's doing both of them good. Morpheus is in therapy, he's feeling more confident, he sees a little more brightness in the world. In turn, Hob feels a greater understanding of himself and his own life. Hes a better person, now. And he feels a love for Morpheus which is growing every day.

It's slow, and steady, and there are bumps in the road. Morpheus’s mental health comes above all else for Hob, and he's keen to make sure that his lover takes care of himself. Even if that means taking breaks from their relationship. Hob knows that as long as his Morpheus is alive and well, he'll be happy. And if they keep on working together, step by step, there's a bright future for both of them.

And maybe one day it'll be Morpheus working at the crisis hotline right alongside Hob, telling everyone exactly why life is worth living.

[oinkinpigprince]

Grim and Gnarly with a reader who's really into musical theater/part of a theater troupe?

OMG!! I’m such a theater kid!!(not rlly) I loved doing highschool theater, I’ve always wanted to be in a musical but I was a techie for one at least :33

Theater reader

Grim

He’s kinda jealous, deep down he’s always wanted to do theater but was always too scared, he says he didn’t want to be gay, but he’s it’s rlly because he had low self esteem

Although grim is still very proud of you he still has some insecurities to get over. He’s working on himself though, and loves hearing about your plays!

Talks shit about the rest of your cast, doesn’t matter if you don’t bring them up he’s such a mean girl wanna be. “Didn’t you notice how that one guy missed his cue, again? Unbelievable!”

Also nitpicks other people’s performances and compares them to yours cause you’re just SOO much better!! Which is sweet if you squint but he also shouldn’t be shit talking the rest of your cast

Helps you with your lines, and is pretty okay at it. He’s very expressive and extremely dramatic to the point of it being comedic, it’s good for practicing staying in character as you try not to laugh at his over the top dramatic rendition of Julius.

Grim really goes think any performance you do is gold, even if you get tree 3 or chorus member 2 he’s still in awe of your absolute talent

Gnarly

He thinks it’s cringe at first, ngl. Gnarly isn’t gonna say it but he thinks it’s kinda lame. Doesn’t really care to listen and hear about stuff

Gives his full attention to any drama though, so if you have stuff, please say it. Loves to shit talk ppl and just bring others down, you two are the only cool ppl in his mind anyways

Don’t bother asking him to help you with your lines. You’ll have better luck with a wall than him. Even if he says yes, he reads in the most monotone flat voice. At a slow pace, while you’re giving him a performance!!

He doesn’t mind going to musicals and plays with you, he kinda likes Jersey boys but that’s it. He kinda just sits there and observes the story. It’s all Disney shit to him ngl

Gnarly didn’t get the point until you begged him to come to your performance of All My Sons and he was completely in awe at the end. He thought it was just some girly Disney musical, and he was completely enthralled by the story at the end.

Thinks about becoming a techie after that, he doesn’t wanna act but he thinks it might be cool to be the sound of light person. Although he wouldn’t want to come to EVERY rehearsal so, it was a nice thought

[striderepiphany]

My favorite reddie fics masterpost

I have an absolutely insane number of reddie fics saved in my bookmarks for how recently I joined this fandom so I decided to share my absolute favorites with you. Please give these authors some love and let me know which ones are you've read and enjoyed!

the year of the goat and your kid back by derryfacts2

1 chapter, 14,838 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: The day you get the most important email of your life, there’s a new black skidmark on the wall of the stairwell, and you know exactly whose fault it is. “Margaret,” you intone to the harried, wild-haired woman in the lobby. She sighs at you as she tries to jimmy her mail key loose. “I know.” It wouldn’t even be that bad if the kid would just skateboard outside. Or get good at skateboarding. Either of those things. Maggie’s a nice lady, though, and she’s had “trying my best” scribbled all over her since they moved into 6B maybe eight years ago. So you try not to be a dick, even if her son is a gold-standard pain in the ass. He’s good for three things: smells, noise, and reminding you how big Eddie must be by now.

The first It fic I read that made me go "holy shit, this is fantastic" and remains one of my all-timers (hence why its first in this list). Really fun and unique outsider POV from Eddie's estranged gay dad, and tells a very sweet story mostly through dialogue. Young adult Eddie and Richie are very cute.

i think the clock is slow by derryfacts2 (again)

3 chapters, 15,815 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: So there was that reason that work wasn’t boring, too. There was Richie’s soppy campaign of making cow eyes at the back of Eddie’s head as he passed, gently pressing Betty for details about his personal life (“I don’t think he has one. He had this awful fiancé a few years ago, but we’re all glad that’s over”), and chasing the incomparable high of a quiet, muttered “Thanks, Rich” whenever Richie picks something up for him from the copier.

Richie is a wannabe stand-up comic daylighting as the receptionist at Eddie's office. Eddie is a tightly-wound corporate asshole. They are both disasters. Or: five times Richie watched Eddie and one that Eddie watched him back.

I really enjoy workplace dramas and this one satisfied the itch so well. So many good scenes and dialogue, this author characterizes them in a way that really works for me. The perfect read-in-an-afternoon fic.

listen to my heart (can you hear it sing?) by vampirerising

12 chapters, 137,708 words, Major Character Death. Summary: "You need to wake up now,” Stan says softly. “This isn’t real.”

“I know, but I can’t,” Richie sobs. “I don’t want to be here.” Not again. Never again. It is dead, why is It still haunting him?

Stan fixes him with one of those looks of his, the one where he can see his every thought as if it were written on his face. “That’s not true, Trashmouth.”

Alternatively: We all know Richie gets caught in the Deadlights, but do we really know what happens after?

(Deadlights, timelines, Stan’s ghostly meddling—oh, my.)

This one is fucking weird in a way that I absolutely adore. Kind of like a sci-fi novel in that it requires you to pay attention to figure out what the fuck is going on but its so good and worth it. The MCD is Stan, not Eddie, and the last couple chapters are actually a very normal domestic Eddie lives AU. One of the first reddie artworks I made was fanart for a scene from this fic that I really enjoy.

a strange sense of familiarity by Katranga

21 chapters, 103,571 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: "So Eddie, what brings you to the bar tonight?" Richie asked. "Gonna rebound from the divorce? Pick up a hot young twenty-something to feel young again?” “Fuck you,” Eddie said, jutting his chin forward. “What a terrible way to ruin the mood.” “I’m sorry, all my moods are poorly cultivated. What mood were you looking for?” A nervous lump grew in Eddie's throat. He threw back his drink to get rid of it.

Hand wrapped around the glass he’d just slammed back onto the bar, he said, “The mood that gets me leaving with a schlubby forty-something.”

Pre-chapter two, Eddie and Richie meet and don't remember each other, but have an instant connection anyway...

This one is just... so fucking good. Decently long without ever feeling like it's dragging. Part 1 is them developing their totally-casual-I-swear relationship, which blows up right when Mike calls them back to Derry. Part 2 is them navigating both killing a nightmare clown demon and the awkwardness between them. Also everybody lives! So that's nice.

change partners by avacadomoon (with podfic available)

1 chapter, 30,453 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: "Rich," Eddie says heavily. Meaningfully, and Richie holds his breath, both afraid and hopeful that Eddie is about to say something really sappy, like I always knew and it didn't matter to me, or you know I support you no matter what. Eddie takes a deep breath before he speaks, and Richie closes his eyes, braced for it. "I didn't look at your dick pics."

"Well hey, Eds, thanks," Richie says, laughing incredulously. "Thanks for that."

I LOVE THIS ONE SOOO FUCKING MUCH. I urge you to consider this as a rec for this author as well, as they have a bunch of other reddie fics I think are fantastic. I have a weakness for any reddie fic that lets them be just a little mean to each other. As a treat. (Also the podfic is very well done, you should check that out too.)

check raise by avacodomoon

1 chapter, 15,061 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: "Eddie, not a fan of stand up comedy, not a fan of his beer," Rich says, leaning back on one elbow and squinting at him, like he's lining him up in a camera lens frame, "but what is he doing drinking alone?"

"I was alone, and now I'm not," Eddie says. "Some prick sat down next to me and started yapping."

"Ah, unpleasant to talk to," Rich concludes. "Explains a lot."

I know I meant the last rec as a blanket rec for all this author's works but I'm including this one specifically because it has a twist ending that is well-foreshadowed and it slapped my dick clean off.

Things that Happen after Eddie Lives by IfItHollers

11 chapters, 107,947 words, Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings. Summary: In a world where Richie manages to save Eddie from It after the deadlights, they still have problems on their to-do list. Featuring everything from Derry to Los Angeles—Richie Tozier's murder trial, Eddie Kaspbrak's divorce proceedings, bedsharing of the platonic and non-platonic varieties, an investigation of magic, a truly disgusting séance, the quintessential morosexual road trip, and OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES.

Definitely NOT your average Eddie lives AU. Drama! Mild peril! Psychic abilities! The ghost of Stanley Uris collect calling from beyond the grave via Richie Tozier's vocal chords! Fun and freaky and weird. Three things that make any fic a Josh favorite.

I'm going to stop there because I'm sleepy but let me know if you want more! Like I said I've got like 70 of these lovingly tucked in my bookmarks and I'm happy to share with the class.

[fanficforlife]

Chapter Three

A strangled cry left your lips as you shot up, wide awake. Your chest heaved, and sweat covered your palms. It was just a dream. He-he's not here. I'm okay...I'm... You got out of bed, wrapped the quilt around you, and went to the kitchen to make coffee. Even though it was only twenty after four in the morning. 

After pouring coffee into a mug, you went out onto the porch and sat down on the stairs. Tears started streaming from your eyes as the dream played through your mind. 

"Violet?" Your hands frantically dried your face while John's oldest son sat down next to you. "What's wrong? And, don't even think about saying nothing because I saw you crying." 

You chewed on your lower lip. 

"Is it your neighbors? Your good-for-nothing piece of shit ex?"

"My...my ex...I just had a bad dream, that's all. It's fine. I'm fine."

"You sitting out here before the suns even up, crying because of a nightmare you had about your ex, isn't fine. He put you through what I'm guessing was hell because you had to run away to get away from him. you've been living in motels, moving to a new one every few days scared that any minute he could burst through the door." You nodded and he reached for your hand. "I'm a pretty good listener and pretty good at keeping secrets. It might help if you unpack some of that baggage, whether it's everything or just about the nightmare."

You chewed on your lower lip before finally nodding. "The nightmare was a memory." After taking a shaky breath you continued. "A few days after we moved into our new house, we met a couple of his friends for drinks, two guys that he grew up with and work with, Tom and Sam. Halfway through the night, they were waiting for the waitress to come around to get them drink number six or whatever it was. It was really busy so I just went up to the bar to get them. When I was up there a guy come over and started flirting with me. I told him I was engaged. He said he was a lucky guy and smiled, I smiled back to be polite, got the drinks, and went back to the table. The rest of the time there was good and we went home." Your fingers started playing with the blanket as your eyes glazed over, taking you back to the past.

"Come here," Nick demanded after appearing in the closet doorway.

You finally got home and all you wanted to do was go to bed. "I want to change first then-"

“No. Now," he grabbed your arm and roughly yanked you down to the basement. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

“Find out what?" You asked as you tried to pry his hand off of you. 

"About you flirting with him!"

Fear filled you when you saw the man who had flirted with you at the bar, on his knees and being held in place by your fiancé's friends. "N-Nick, what-"

“You made plans to see him next time I'm off work, didn't you?!"

“No, I didn't." You whimpered when he grabbed your arms, towering over you with a psychotic stare. "I told him I was engaged and came back to the table."

“Don't fucking lie to me! I saw you smile at him before you left."

“She was being polite, that's all." The man who flirted with you insisted. 

“She shouldn't have fucking talked to you in the first place." Nick spat at the man before his fiery gaze came back to you. "I thought you would know that by now."

“Nick, I-I'm sorry. I-"

The back of his hand connected with your cheek before he spun you around. One of his arms wrapped around you, securing your arms against your sides while he crushed you against him. His chest confirmed to your back, his breath hot on your neck. "You should be sorry because now you're going to watch him die."

“What the fuck?!" The innocent man on his knees tried to get free. "All I did was ask if I could buy her a drink?"

“You should have looked at her finger first. The ring that cost a fortune and takes up practically her whole ring finger." Nick nodded to his friends. After they put the scared man's hands behind his head, Tom held them there while Sam went to stand in front of him. His fist connected with the man's face. 

“No!"

“Sam." Your fiancé pushed you into his friend, who took over holding you prisoner. When Sam secured you in his arms Nick went and stood in front of the man who had blood trickling from a cut on his lip. "It's time for me to make you pay for trying to take what's mine." His fists took over for his friend. He kept hitting the man who did nothing wrong, again and again.

“Nick, stop! You're going to kill him. Stop! Stop!"

Nick turned around and stalked towards you, gripping your chin firmly in his blood-spattered hand. "Keep your fucking voice down. We don't want the neighbors to get suspicious." He let out a chuckle. "Not that it would matter because there are three cops here already."

“Just let him go. Nick, please." You begged as tears flowed from your eyes.

“He should have paid attention so he knew you already belonged to someone." His fingers dug into your jaw, "now keep your pretty little mouth shut." After letting your chin go he resumed his attack on the man who was now lying on the floor. 

“No. No. No. No." Sobs cut off your pleas while Nick went from using his fists to his feet. 

Fifteen minutes later, Nick stood over the man he had just killed with a triumphant grin while you crumpled to the floor. Your sobs had stopped, giving way to silent tears. You sat there staring at the growing pool of blood in shock. You didn't notice when Sam and Tom wrapped the body in a tarp and carried it upstairs or when Nick left, returning with a bucket of water and a rag. 

“Now," Nick's hand fisted your hair and pulled your head back, forcing you to look at him, "clean up this mess."

“W-what?" 

“Clean his blood off of the floor. I'm not going to tell you again." 

With trembling hands, you did what he said. By the time you were done, your hands were stained red. You pushed yourself up off your knees and went to walk towards the stairs but your fiancé stepped in front of you. 

“What are you doing?"

The shock had worn off leaving you angry and disgusted. "You killed him! All he did was ask to buy me a drink and I said I was engaged, that was it. And, you killed him for it! You're insane! I can't-I can't do this-be with you."

He grabbed your upper arms and slammed you against the wall. "I killed him because he tried to take what's mine."

Let me go." You tried to hit him, kick him, you pushed against him, trying to get free. When none of that worked, you tried to go for his face but couldn't reach it. Your fingers clawed at whatever they could and you managed to scratch his neck. 

“Bitch." He seethed before backhanding you, the hard blow sending you to the floor. Before you could get away, he crouched over you and his hands went for your neck. Your foot connected with his shin and you scrambled away. "Where do you think you're going?" He grabbed your ankle and yanked you back. 

“No! Let me go." You begged as he pinned your arms above your head in the same spot he had just murdered someone. Fresh tears started pouring from your eyes. "I hate you. Please let me go. I don't want to be here. Please!"

“You are mine." His knee pried your legs apart and settled between them. "Only mine. And, you will be until the day you die." He reached between you and unzipped his pants. "It looks like I need to remind you of that."

"Fuck." Lee sat there looking at you in shock. 

"I...I shouldn't be here. I need to leave."

"No." Lee grabbed your hand. "Violet, look at me."

"If he finds me here, he'll kill you, all of you."

"No, he won't. We can handle him."

"He's crazy and the best at what he does. He knows how to make it look like an accident or like someone else did it. He-he-" Lee wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly as you cried. "I'm scared. I-I can't go back. I would rather die than be with him again."

"We're the best at what we do. If by some miracle he does find out you're here, he's going to be dead before he knew what happened. I...I don't want to scare you or push you away but Kayce's not the only one who's killed people. When we do, it's to protect the family, the ranch and we don't get caught. I figured you should know what you're gonna be marrying into someday." His eyes suddenly widened. "Shit. I didn't think- with your ex and me bugging you and Kayce all the time-"

"It's okay."

"I knew you liked my mop-haired little brother."

"I umm...I-" you started shaking your head. 

"Violet, look at me." He didn't continue until you met his brown eyes. "From what you've told me about your ex, I can only imagine how scared you are about liking someone again. But, if you do like Kayce, you don't need to be scared. He would never hurt you or force you to do anything you didn't want to do. I'm not saying to rush into anything you aren't ready for. I know it's only been...I don't know when you left him but you've only been here for a month."

"I left December seventeenth. We were supposed to get married a week later, on Christmas Eve."

"Christmas Eve?"

"He and his family picked the date."

He let out an unimpressed huff. "Well, when you and Kayce get married you can pick everything." Blush stained your cheeks and he squeezed your knee. "So, you left the piece of shit three and a half months before you came here. If he's as good as you say he is at being a detective, he would've found you by now." When you didn't respond, he squeezed your knee again causing you to look at him. "You're safe here, Vi. You can relax now because this is your home and you have a ranch full of overprotective people who love you and will stop at nothing to keep you safe."

You finally nodded in agreement and he put his arm around you. "Thank you." 

"No need to thank me. I'm your future big brother, it's my job to be here for you." He chuckled when red crept across your cheeks again. "You know I love you, right?"

"I know. Love you too." Your head rested on his shoulder and sat there in comfortable silence, watching the sun slowly make its way above the mountains. 

*****

"Here you go." You smiled as you handed Tate a plate of cookies that the two of you just finished making. 

His eyes widened with excitement as he looked at the still-warm cookies. "Grandpa, look!" He hurried to the living room as fast as he could while balancing the cookies. "We even made some raisin ones for you!"

"These taste just like the ones my mom used to make," Kayce said after taking a bite of one of the raisin ones from the container sitting on the island. 

"It's her recipe. I was dusting the shelf with all of the cookbooks this morning and found a notebook hiding in the back. It has a bunch of recipes that she wrote down." You swallowed as you placed your hand on the blue notebook sitting by the container full of cookies. "I...I hope it's okay I used it."

Kayce reached across the kitchen island and squeezed your hand. "Of course it's okay. I remember this notebook. Most of the recipes in it have been passed down through the years. The original ones my great, great, great grandma wrote were so tattered mom wrote them in here." He opened the notebook to the back page. "She taped the original ones back here. It's crazy to think of my great, great, great grandma making them here for the first time after they settled here."

"Your great, great, great grandma knew what she was doing." You picked up a raisin cookie and took a bite. 

"That she did." He finished his cookie. "You...you're more than welcome to watch the movie with us. Tate would love it."

The look in his eyes, you knew that he wasn't asking for Tate. I...I can't. "We made a triple batch of cookies so I was actually going to take these out to the bunkhouse."

Disappointed flashed across his face before he put on a smile. "They're going to love them."

"Yeah." You smiled softly before Tate's voice traveled down the hall. 

"Dad! Hurry up!"

A giggle left your lips. His eyes dropped to your mouth when he heard it and you unconsciously licked your lips. "Tate-they're waiting and I should bring these out there. Enjoy your movie."

"I will." He smiled before joining his family in the living room. 

I can't get too close. It's for the best. You pushed away thoughts of how nice it felt when his hand held yours, picked up the container of cookies, and went outside. 

*

You knocked on the door to the bunkhouse and a few seconds later, Rip opened it. "Violet, hi."

"Hi. I made cookies."

He smiled and held the door for you. "Listen up. Violet's here so watch the language."

"It's okay." You giggled before everyone said hi in unison. "Hi, Tate and I made a triple batch of cookies. I thought you might like some."

"Hell yeah." Teeter, a spunky, faded pink-haired Texan and only woman wrangler in the bunch, cheered as you set the container in the middle of the table they were all gathered around. 

Lloyd picked out a raisin one and took a bite. His eyes widened before he took another one and threw it to Rip. "Try it and tell me what ya think."

"Shit." Rip chuckled. "These taste just like the ones Evelyn used to make." Lloyd nodded in agreement. 

"I found her old recipe book. It's her recipe. The chocolate chip ones are the same, Tate and I just switched out the raisins." 

"You normally don't come out here." Lloyd laughed as Ryan and Colby fought over a cookie they both picked up at the same time. "By the looks of it, we're gonna want you to spend every evening with us."

You giggled as Teeter swooped in and took a bite out of the cookie in the two wrangler's hands, who handed it over to her. "Yeah, they're all watching a movie inside and I didn't feel like reading." 

"Sit down, kiddo." The old cowboy ordered with a smile after pulling out an empty chair, the only empty chair around the table. 

"Want me to deal ya in?" Jake, asked as he shuffled a deck of cards. "Poker." 

"I don't know how to play."

"I can teach ya if ya want?" You nodded enthusiastically at Lloyd making him chuckle. 

"Wait. I didn't bring any money out here with me."

"You brought something better." Rip picked up the half-empty container of cookies and set it in front of you. "They're off limits unless she loses 'em."

"I have a feeling they aren't going to have to wait very long to get them back."

Rip looked at Lloyd with a smirk. "I don't know. This old guy's been around for a while so he's played his fair share of poker."

"He's never had to deal with me though." You teased. 

Lloyd chuckled as he squeezed your shoulder. "Deal her in, Jake." 

*

"Have you seen Violet?" Lee asked as he burst through the bunkhouse door. "She's not inside-" the concern left his face when he saw you seated at the table. 

"Sorry. I didn't think I would be out here this long."

"It's okay." The cowboy smiled. "I see you've been busy."

"Violet's a natural." Lloyd grinned proudly as he glanced at the stack of bills in front of you. "She should hit up the casinos in Vegas." 

Lee's smile grew into a smirk. "My lovesick little brother could go with her and they can get hitched after."

You rolled your eyes and stood up. When you tried giving the wranglers back the money you won, they refused. "But, all I had were cookies. It's not fair."

"I would gladly play for those cookies any day of the week," Jake said. "I'm pretty sure that doesn't just go for me." 

The other wranglers nodded. "Feel free to come out here anytime, especially if you got them cookies."

"I will." You smiled at Teeter. 

"Warn us though 'cause I'm gonna need to take out some cash. You cleaned me out." Ryan laughed. You went to hand him his money back but he pointed at you. "Don't even think about it."

You picked up the empty cookie container and your winnings before kissing Lloyd's cheek. "Thank you for showing me how to play."

"You're welcome kiddo."

"Don't be a stranger," Rip added while Lee held the door open for you. 

Lee fell in step with you and took the money from your hand. "Two hundred and thirty bucks. Damn, you did good." After handing your winnings back to you his smile faded. "I have a feeling your ex is responsible for you having such a good poker face."

You nodded. "No one knew what he was really like. I covered up the bruises with makeup. If I didn't do a good enough job and people could still see them or my sweater slipped off my shoulder and people saw a bruise in the shape of his hand on my arm, I had to lie. According to his family and his friends, I'm the clumsiest girl on the planet. If the bruise was on my arm, he grabbed me after I tripped and saved me from falling down the stairs or whatever. I...I'm not going to play poker with them anymore. It's not fair."

"Violet, you can't keep letting him control your life. You didn't win every game, there was a lot of money in front of the others too. Plus, you had fun." When you nodded slowly, the oldest Dutton son put his arm around you. "I know it's going to take a while to get used to but you're free. It's probably going to take longer to go back to how you were before you met him; apologizing all the time, being scared, all of it. But, I promise you that you will be you again."

You sniffed back tears and his hold on you tightened. 

"I'll always be here for ya, no matter what. Love ya...future sister-in-law." He added with a grin. 

You giggled and gave him a playful shove. "Wait. When you came into the bunkhouse looking for me you sounded worried."

"You weren't back inside yet after the movie and with the talk we had last week about your nightmare, I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"You thought he might have found me? I shouldn't have said anything. I don't want you to worry all the time."

"Him finding you crossed my mind even though in the back of my head I know that you're safe here. This was a one-time thing. That dinosaur movie Tate loves kind of creeps me out." 

You laughed. "You do know dinosaurs are long gone, right? Besides, you deal with grizzly bears who want to eat you." 

"Dinosaurs are a hell of a lot meaner than any old bear. If I need to, one shot and the bears down. Have you seen the size of a T-Rex? It would take more bullets than I could carry to bring one of those down. And, where we are, the mountains, they could easily be hiding out here." 

"I'm pretty sure we would know if a dinosaur was hiding out in the mountains. Remember when they put the cow in with the raptors? I think you'd be missing quite a few of your cows. Unless they just go for people now." You continued teasing. "Maybe you should be worried about me. I would hate to be eaten by a dinosaur."

He laughed and draped his arm around your shoulders. "I'm not worried about ya 'cause my idiot brother watches you every chance he can, especially when he's supposed to be working." He chuckled when your cheeks turned red. "I win." A mischievous smile pulled at his lips while you walked into the main house. 

"It looks like you made out pretty well." John smiled from in front of the fireplace. 

"Yeah. Lloyd's a great teacher." You smiled back. "I'm going to head to bed. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Violet."

Lee winked at you. "Goodnight. Make sure you buy something nice with your winnings."

You knew what you wanted to do with the money and after putting the empty container in the kitchen, you went to your room. Just in case. An image of Nick finding you flitted through your head as you put the lid back on the tin where you had been keeping your change. You also took out most of your first paycheque and had it in there in case you had to leave and couldn't risk stopping at a bank to withdraw any money. At least you would have some to last you for a while. You did feel safe here though...safer than you had anywhere else that you've been. But, you couldn't get too comfortable because you knew Nick and you would never be able to truly settle somewhere as long as he was alive. 

"It sounds like you had fun out there." Kayce's voice from the doorway made you jump. "Sorry, I thought you heard me."

"It's okay. And, yeah I did. All of the cookies are gone though. How was your movie?" 

"Jurassic Park for god knows how many times was good. Finally got the kid settled after reading him five stories."

"Let me guess. They were all about dinosaurs." You smiled as you walked over to the door and mindlessly started playing with the doorknob. 

He smiled his perfect smile and it made the butterflies in your stomach flutter their wings. "You would be correct. Well, I should get to bed. I'm glad you had a good evening."

"I'm glad you enjoyed your movie. Goodnight, Kayce."

"Goodnight, Letty." When he continued standing there, you took a small step back. 

His smile faded slightly and it made your heart ache. I work here, that's it. Nothing more. You gave him a soft smile. 

The smile that had awakened the butterflies returned though. "Oh, I'm taking Tate with us when we check fences in the morning so you'll at least have half a Saturday to yourself."

"How many times do I have to tell you I don't mind when he's hanging around?"

"I know but still."

You giggled. "Sleep well."

"You too." 

After closing the door, you rested your forehead against the stained wood. I work for him. I'm not- I can't. You buried your ever-growing feelings and focused on getting ready for bed.

[mischiefnevermanaged89-blog]

Love Me Like You Do~Part 4

Juice Ortiz X Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next three weeks had Juice always at Amethyst Edge with (Y/N). He found himself not wanting to be away from her for too long. He would help her with anything she needed done that was in his wheelhouse of tech knowledge.

When she was occupied with something else, he found himself staring at her. She was beautiful to him. He loved every thing about her; he didn’t even mind she had some extra “fluff” to her as she would always say.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice Opie walking up to him. When Opie clapped him on the shoulder, he jumped.

“Shit, Opie. Don’t do that.”

Opie looked from Juice to his sister, clearly seeing the look in the young biker’s eyes. “You okay over here? Seem to be lost in thought.”

Juice nodded. “Yeah. All good. Just finishing this up for (Y/N).”

“You two seem to be getting close these days. Something I need to know?”

He shook his head. “Nope. We’re just friends. She gets her tech advice from me and that’s it.”

Opie pulled up a chair and sat, leaning his arms on the back. “Dude, I know that look. I’ve been told I look at Donna that way.” He ran his hand through his hair and let out a sigh. “Listen, if you like her, tell her. I’m not going to stop you. You should know though, she’s had it rough growing up with her weight and all. Her mom was a bitch to her about it. Since she’s been home, I’ve noticed a dramatic change in how she carries herself. Those three years with her grandfather changed her. Just know it’s always been an issue with her. Always thinks nobody is going to love her the way she is.”

Juice watched you as Opie talked to him. He couldn’t believe you never felt loved for who you were. He turned back to his friend. “So you wouldn’t mind if I asked her on a date?”

Opie chuckled and patted the Puerto Rican on the shoulder. “Nope. Not at all. I just want her happy. But know this, you hurt her, I hurt you.”

Juice just nodded. Now that he knew he could, he would definitely try and win your heart and show you how much someone can love every bit of you.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Earth to (Y/N)? You still with me?” Donna waved her hand in front of my face.

“Huh? Oh, I’m, where were we?”

“Finalizing the menu so we can get the food delivered next week. Are you okay?” She leaned on her elbows getting closer.

I nodded. “Yeah. Just some things on my mind is all.”

“Does it have to do with a certain Puerto Rican Son?” Donna smirked.

My head shot up to look at her. “What?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh come on! I see the way you two sneak glances at each other. I think he likes you.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Oh please. He’s just being nice and helping me out because I’m Opie’s sister and basically Jax’s adopted sister.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Come on Donna. I know how I look, okay? I may have gained some confidence over the last few years and beginning to get more comfortable in my own skin, but that doesn’t mean someone as cute at Juice will think of me in any other way.”

She reached over and laid her hand on mine. “Honey, I’ve known you almost as long as I have Opie. You have always been beautiful. Just because your mom thought you didn’t look like she wanted you to, doesn’t mean your any less of a beauty. Any guy would be lucky to have you, especially Juice.”

I gave her a small smile. “Thanks, Donna. It’s hard still sometimes to fight down that voice that tells me I’m not worth it. It really does it when I think about him. Spending time with him lately has been great.”

“Then tell him you like him. I think he likes you, too.” She winked at me.

After our heart to heart, we finalized the menu, put the order in for all the dishes we’d need for front and back and interviewed one more waitress and kitchen worker.

The thought of telling him made my heart race, but maybe Donna was right. I should just tell Juice how I feel. Maybe it's time to take a chance. I took that chance when we were locking up for the day.

“Hey, Juan!” I yelled, smirking.

He turned on his bike and raised an eye brow at me, a smile on his face. “Yeah?”

“You wanna come join me for a drink? Maybe some food?” I had my hands in my shorts pockets and used my upper body to signal towards my apartment.

He took his helmet off and put it back on the bike. “Yeah. Why not?”

I waited for him to follow me around the side. Opie and the guys built me a security fence around the side and back of the bar to keep my apartment safe at night. After walking in, I activated the security code and Juice and I went inside. It was still early and I had a few things I could cook.

“Hungry?”

“Yeah. I could eat.” Juice made himself comfortable on the couch like he’s done many times.

“Spaghetti okay? Haven’t made my weekly shopping trip yet.” I laughed as I handed him a beer.

“My favorite.” And there it was. That million dollar smile that made me melt every time. I gave him a smile back and went to start on dinner.

He eventually joined me in the small kitchen and even helped. We talked about the opening of Amethyst Edge, our childhoods and just random things.

“No way! Seriously? How did he not know you braided his hair?” Juice laughed at the story I told about Opie and I as teenagers.

I laughed and shrugged. “I’m telling you, he’s a heavy sleeper. He was so late for school that he just got up and threw his clothes on, thinking his hair was still in the pony tail from the night before. When we got to school and seen everyone’s faces, he bolted for the bathroom. And I didn’t just do braids, I made different sections different types and put strips of hair extensions in.”

Juice doubled over in laughter, almost spilling his beer on the floor. “What did he do?”

“Came after me. He didn’t hurt me, of course, but he put bleach in my shampoo and I had blonde patches in my hair for a week or two until I dyed it.”

When the laughter subsided, we just looked at each other. I knew it was now or never for me to tell him. I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt nervously.

“What’s got you so nervous all of a sudden? You only do that when your nervous.”

I chuckled. “Didn’t know you paid that close attention.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I mean, every thing you do is amazing.”

“Really?” I whispered.

He scooted closer to me on the couch. “Yes, really. You’re a person who takes control. Everything has to be right or it doesn’t fit. You know what you want and make sure it’s done the right way. You chew on your bottom lip when you concentrate. When you laugh, your eyes sparkle a little brighter and you dance when you think no one is looking when any song comes on.”

I couldn’t believe it. He actually took notice of me. “Wow. I didn’t think anyone ever paid that close attention to me.”

“Well I do. I like you (Y/N). I really like you.” He looked into my eyes, his own brown eyes staring into mine.

He liked me. Just like I liked him. This beautiful tanned skin man that I’ve known just months likes me. My heart pounded as I tried to tell him I liked him, too. Before I could muster up the courage, his phone rang.

“Yeah?” He answered. “Okay. Be there in ten.” He closed his phone and looked at me. “Club business. I got to go.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

We stood and he pulled me in for a hug. “I’ll see you in a couple days, okay?”

I just nodded in response. He kissed the side of my head and was out the door. I followed behind to set the alarms again, waving goodbye to him as he drove off.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, Gem. You need help with groceries?”

“The guys got them. How are you?” Gemma gave me a hug.

“I’m good. I’m excited for tonight. The guys don’t know yet. I wanted to surprise them. I’ve text them and said I needed them all here when they got back for some minor repairs.”

“This will be good. I love what you’ve done.” Gemma said as she looked around from her spot at the bar.

I leaned my back on the bar and looked around. “Me, too. I can’t wait to open this place up.”

“We’ve got everything ready back here, boss.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

I gathered the girls together and have them all a task, letting them get to know Serena before we officially opened. By the time the guys got to the bar, we had the tables pushed together and chairs lining both sides. We put all the food along the bar so everyone could serve themselves. You had just finished placing the last dessert when they walked in.

“Welcome home! Everyone grab a plate and find a seat! It’s our new family dinner tradition.” I received a hug from each one, Jax, Opie and Juice saved themselves for last.

After all the guys had food, I invited my crew to sit and eat with us, all of them telling me thank you and fixing a plate. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched everyone. I finally made myself a plate and sat at the end of the table facing everyone.

“Okay, gentlemen. I have an announcement. Not only is this a welcome home dinner, but it’s also a celebratory one. I received word this morning that Amethyst Edge officially passed every inspection and is now a licensed business and can officially open this weekend.”

Cheers went up all around. I couldn’t help the smile on my face as everyone cheered.

“So, tonight, we have dinner and celebrate. Starting tomorrow me and my wonderful crew will start preparing this place to welcome customers Friday night at 7. I want to thank each of you for everything you have done for me the last few months. As I told my brothers a while back, every time any of the Sons and their old lady comes in, two rounds of free drinks on the house. After that, you got to pay.”

“Even your favorite?” Tig called.

“No one said you were my favorite, Trager. But yes, Donna can drink for free any time.”

“Oh come on!” Was called around and laughs broke through.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright. Let’s eat everyone!”

Everyone enjoyed the company and food. Gemma gave me a wink from her end of the table, Opie gave me a proud smile, dad’s smile showed so much pride and love. Jax had his signature Teller smirk. Then there was Juice. He had the most beautiful smile that crinkled his eyes that he seemed to save for me when he looked at me.

I had yet to be able to tell him how I felt. Since our last conversation at dinner had been almost a week and we didn’t get to text much. I knew this week I wouldn’t get to spend much time with him either, seeing as how I’d be busy with the weekend opening.

I tried not to fret too much and enjoy myself. After dinner and dessert, everyone banned together and cleaned the dishes and took any leftovers in to go boxes.

“Yo! Everyone! Gather around!” Jax yelled. “(Y/N), the guys and I got you something to seal the deal on this place. Follow me.”

Jax led me outside, covering my eyes just before we stepped out. I could hear whispers all around me. He finally stopped me at the bottom of the steps.

“Okay. Open your eyes.”

When I opened them, I gasped. On the roof of the entrance, proudly glowing was my new sign. “Amethyst Edge” was written in a beautiful script, painted in purple against a black background. The Reaper drawn into the wood behind it and it was lite up in a bright purple around the edges.

“Guys! It’s perfect. Thank you!”

Jax and Opie stood on either side of me, arms around my waist and dad standing behind me, hands on my shoulders. I leaned back into him and he kissed my head.

“Amethyst Edge is official, sweetheart.” He said to me.

“Yeah. It is. And I can’t wait to open.”

[marvelous-slut]

Daddy Issues - Dmitri Antonov x female! reader

warnings: p in v, female implied reader, daddy issues to the max, didn’t really proof read this?? age gap, reader is 18 but in high school

not my first go around on the smut/fanfic side of tumblr but it is for stranger things & it’s been a while, I hope you folks enjoy my late night horny thoughts of this beautiful man

“love you kid, i’ll be at joyce’s tonight for a birthday dinner, you and dmitri come over.” you crumble the note and throw it in the floor, holding back tears. you loved your father jim hopper dearly, but since he returned from russia with joyce & a man you first knew as enzo, things were different.

“yeah every year we do this, we get each other a cheesy gift and bake a cake with those stupid candles that don’t blow out.” you say excitedly to jonathan, your possibly soon to be step brother. he kept quiet, knowing hopper would be at his home this evening celebrating his birthday, not with his daughter.

you run up to your room after you trash the meaningless note in the garbage. you find the shortest skirt in your wardrobe, some fishnets and a long sleeve crop top. by the time you change, your fathers new russian friend is out of the shower, ready to leave himself. he looks up to see how your dressed, very different from what he’s seen before. he immediately tries thinking of something else so his raging hard on doesn’t show.

“you ready?” you ask, grabbing the keys and heading out the door.

the two of you arrive at the byers home, you knew your father was going to have a shit fit when he saw how you were dressed. at this point, you didn’t care. if he was going to leave you hanging for a woman, why wouldn’t you act out? dmitri was silent the entire ride, thinking of how inappropriate it would be if he slid his hands under your skirt and finger fucked you. as soon as you walked through the door, it was on.

“hey hon-, what the fuck are you wearing?” he asks, harshly. you plop down on the couch.

“clothes dad, happy birthday by the way.” you reply cold, jonathan swallows the lump in his throat. he had never seen so much skin from you, but he wasn’t complaining. dmitri walks to the table, knowing things were about to go south.

“why are you dressed that way?” you see the anger in his eyes, disappointment as well. no disappointment could compare to what you felt this evening after reading his bullshit note. “did you wear that shit to school?” you laugh, standing up, pulling the skirt up as you did.

“do you really think if i did jonathan would have mentioned it? i mean he’s like a dog in heat right now and i’m just sitting here.” jonathan’s face turns red as a tomato, joyce comes from the kitchen.

“hey! don’t talk about my son like that!” she exclaims, hopper defending her. you feel your chest heating up with anger.

“oh i forgot, you’re my new mommy joyce! i have to listen to everything you say huh? sorry he’s barley keeping it in his pants over there. hey speaking of mommy, i’m moving back in with mine. fuck this!” you exclaim, shooting out the door and making sure to slam it on the way out. hopper apologizes to joyce, dmitri gets up from the table and tells hopper he will make sure you get home to cool off, and he keeps his promise.

“come on,” he says, looking down on you crying on the steps, placing his jacket around you knowing you had to be freezing. “let’s go

home.”

the whole ride home you cry, you didn’t mean to but you tell dmitri everything as if he’s your personal therapist and he listens and he understands. he feels angry with hopper, his son was back in russia and he couldn’t do anything about it for the time being, hoppers child was right in front of his face and he choses a woman over her. “i don’t know what hurts me more, the fact that he gave up something that was special to me or that he sent you to chase me after i melt down.” finally you two arrive back at home, he places his hand on your thigh, comforting you.

“let’s go inside.” once inside, something in you snapped. you look at dmitris figure, thinking of how you wanted him on top of you. you walk over to him, brushing your body against his.

“thanks for playing daddy for me.” this sends him into a spiral, he knows it’s wrong. the man who helped him get out of russia, gave him a place to live and he was going to fuck his daughter.

dmitri backs you against the wall, his bare cold hands running up your thigh. finally reaching the pathetic excuse for underwear you have on.

“you really had your father upset tonight,” he says, pushing your laced thong to the side, teasing your entrance with his finger, “i never thought such a sweet girl like you could do that.” you leaned your head back, silently begging him to finger fuck your eager cunt, there was no way he didn’t feel the wetness between your folds.

“what can i say?” you ask, mind fuzzy still not believing this is happening.

“i think someone has daddy issues.” he slips a cold finger into your throbbing pussy, making your back arch against the wall, a small moan escaping your lips. he sees how much pleasure this brings you and adds another finger, slowly pumping. “you want someone to take care of you, to protect you, to love you. someone who won’t disappoint you.” he whispers before pressing his lips against your neck, you whimper as he’s pumping his fingers in and out of you. “am i wrong?” he stops, waiting on you to reply.

“i- i. no, no you’re not.” he grins and starts moving his fingers again. using his other hand, he gently grabs a handful of your hair, slamming his lips against yours, sliding his tongue into your desperate mouth.

“good.” he pulls his fingers out, slipping them slowly into your mouth, making you taste your juices. “i’ll do that for you.” before you know it, you two are in his guest bedroom, he pulls you to the bed laying you down on your back, spreading your legs as far as they will go, pulling his jeans and boxers down in one swift motion revealing his throbbing cock. bigger than any other you had seen, which wasn’t shocking considering that number was very low.

“you taste fucking sweet,” he says, licking his fingers, “just like candy.” he uses his saliva to coat his cock, gently gliding it into your slick cunt. your back arches and you let out an ungodly moan. his hand finds it’s way to your neck, softly gripping it.

“who’s girl are you angel?” he thrusts into you slowly, his cock stretching you out even more than you imagined was possible.

“yours, i’m yours daddy.” the word drives him absolutely insane. he pulls your tits out of the skimpy shirt you wore, kneading one with his hand, his other hand playing with your clit.

“that’s right, you’re mine.” he whispers, his lips against your neck again, careful not to leave any marks as bad as he wanted to. you dug your nails into his back, not being able to hold back. it felt entirely too good having him inside of you. “this sweet tight pussy is all mine.” you feel your stomach start to knot up, grabbing onto the sheets desperately.

“you’re close aren’t you?” he asks, laughing and hurrying his face into your shoulder. you barley get out a yes before you feel yourself coming undone.

“please keep fucking me, right there. oh my god.” you scream out. “i’m gonna fucking cum.”

“Cum angel.” the words push you to the edge, he finishes right behind you.

“What the fuck is this?” your heart sinks, hearing your fathers voice boom through the room.

[witchthewriter]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐀 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

a/n: thank you to the wonderful person who requested this! What a brilliant idea, thank you so much xx oh and ... I kind of write between past and future tense, I apologise... 

Warnings: some swears

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ          

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

𝐵𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦: There’s built-up tension between you and the Sons. You’re a key player in a new business deal, putting you at risk. While travelling, you pair have to spend the night at a motel, which is fine, until you find out that the room only has one bed. 

𝐉𝐚𝐱

・He’s playful about the situation. A mischievous grin on his tanned, handsome face. 

・But inside, he’s yearning so badly for you

・And you’re yearning the same

・At first he says you can take the bed, and he’ll sleep on the couch or something. “Hey, even the tub works for me darlin’-”

・But you shook your head and smiled. “Jax, just sleep in the goddamn bed.”

・You know that cheeky grin he does? Yeah he did exactly that and butterflies erupted in your stomach

・While you’re lying in bed, with the lights out, and the room quiet, you know Jax isn’t asleep

・ “You awake?” You whisper, turning around to face him 

・He grinned at you, “Nah,” he replied

・Jax had taken his shirt off and you only wore a baggy shirt and pyjama shorts. Taking a chance, you reached out and started tracing the black ink on his bare skin. 

・There was a lingering heaviness in the air. Sexual tension. A desperate need. 

・He read something in your eyes, and you read the same in his. 

・It took everything in you two not to come together. To connect in the way that you wanted. So you both said nothing and rolled over, as in silent agreement. 

・But in the morning, you awoke before him. Your body was on top of his, your head resting against his chest, listening to his heartbeat 

𝐎𝐩𝐢𝐞

・Gave a stiff laugh and looked to see your reaction 

・After a few seconds he shrugged and said he liked sleeping on the floor (a complete lie, and it’s the floor because he’s too big for the couch)

・Took a lot of persuading for him to sleep in the same bed. He didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable or disrespected. 

・But you really wanted him to be next to you. You felt like this was your one chance, to ... get to the next level. Not that you would push him to do anything. You just knew this was your chance 

・When the moon was high in the sky, Opie kicked off his shoes and flicked through the tv channels. He came to a Disney movie, one that his kids adored

・“Don’t judge. Disney is pretty important in my household.” His beanie was off and with each word his gold tooth flashed

・”Hey, you’ll get no judgement from me,” you chuckled lightly, thinking of all the weirder shit you’ve encountered. 

・You were both sitting against the headboard, shoulders touching. Neither of you were underneath the blanket, the air was too warm, and Opie gave off a lot of heat

・You spoke here and there, commenting on the movie. When certain scenes came on, you watched as Opie mimed the words. “Op, how many times have your kids watched this damn movie?”

・ “I don’t think that number exists.”

・He opens up a lot when he’s around you. Opie is actually a very witty guy when he’s comfortable.  

・But you both fell asleep eventually. Your head on his shoulder and his head was against the wall. 

・Throughout the night you both had wormed your way around the bed. You lay with your head ontop of his chest, and his arms were wrapped firmly around you

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐬

・“I’ll take the couch, sweetheart,” Chibs stated in his Scottish accent. You really didn’t want him to, but the tall Scot always had an air of authority around him

・He wouldn’t let you get your own bags, and carried all of them in from the car. 

・You watched as he checked the bullets in each gun and sorted out which route to take

・You loved listening to Chibs talk. He had a way of telling the most brilliant stories. 

・ “Tell me a tale, Telford.” He peered over at you, sitting on the bed. The night had grown late and you were too nervous to sit in silence. 

・ “Aye, well there was a time back in Scotland-” 

・You patted the space next to you and wriggled over so he had room to lay down. 

・ Chibs talked all night. Well, until you fell asleep against his arm. 

・When he noticed you were in dream land, he didn’t move for a while. He moved the hair from your face and smiled down at you

・Then he put you to bed. Taking off your shoes and tucking you in. 

・He didn’t sleep in the bed beside you. Chibs made sure everything was locked and shut, before he too made himself comfortable on the floor, facing the door. 

𝐓𝐢𝐠

・“Big spoon, or little spoon?”

・Playful, teasing and completely honest. He wanted to sleep next to you so badly 

・Tig often daydreamed of sleeping beside you. You wrapped in his arms, asleep while the sun filtered through the window. 

・He was joking but not really

・You just pushed his arm and scoffed (with a smile though)

・You knew you were safe with Tig, but he was a very mischievous man. He wouldn’t try anything to make you uncomfortable, but he was hard to resist. 

・It took everything in you not to feel ... needy. You read a book, turned on the tv, looked out the window and all the while, you could feel his eyes staring at you. 

・ “Tig-”

“Huh?” He quickly lifted up the newspaper and opened it in front of his face. “I’m reading, what do you want?” 

・You smiled at his ruse. He knew you knew he was staring at you

・ It was hard to keep a straight face whenever Tig Trager was in the room

・ “Your newspaper is upside down.” 

“Obviously ...I like it that way...” 

・He let you take the bed, and even though he stretched out on the couch, you beckoned him over

・The next morning, you awoke with Tig as the big spoon, nuzzling in your hair

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲

・“I’ll take the floor.” 

・His response was instant, without question. The couch barely sat two people, so he’d be too cramped laying on it.

・He had been a bit off with you for the past week. No joking around or deep conversations like you used to have

・You had no idea, but it was because of this situation. Clay had chosen him to protect you, and his feelings had grown so much. 

・ “You don’t have to,” you replied, turning to look at Happy, who was holding onto your bags. There was a hint of sadness in your voice, because you missed being so close to Happy

・ You thought he said something like “I do.”

・With the few hours that you spent in the room, he warmed to you again. Forgetting his emotional wall and opening up. 

・You were both watching tv on the bed, a crappy reality show, and you both couldn’t stop laughing

・ “I can’t believe people sometimes,” you said while laughing

      “Man, neither can I. Those types of people only want one thing: attention.” 

・This opened a deep conversation about people, life and humanity. 

・You looked over at the clock at it was nearly 2:30am. 

・Happy saw as well, and started to get ready to go to sleep. He kicked his shoes off, and took a few pillows from the couch and put them on the floor

・No matter how many times you offered a place on the bed, he wouldn’t take it

𝐉𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐞

・Is immediately flustered when looking at the limited space. He was holding every single piece of luggage (you wanted to help but he wouldn’t let you.) 

・You shrugged and started taking the bags out of his hands while his blush reddened 

・ “I prefer the side closest to the window,” you said simply

・He said you take the bed, and if you want, you can take the room. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve slept outside,” he said it in his usual cheery voice. But you could tell there was something underneath those words. 

・It became like a sleepover so quickly.

・Juice knew it would be boring, so he brought a board game (and hid it obviously because the guys would think it was unneeded weight)

・”Oh! you brought Monopoly?!” He let you choose the figurine you wanted (ever the gentleman)

・You played literally all night. And it wasn’t until the birds tweeted in the morning, with the sunlight glowing through the breaks in the curtain.

・ “Shit, its morning,” he stated, looking at you with wide eyes

・You just laughed, and so did he

[klausinamarink]

One Kid Gone, Another Up and Vanished (part 10)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 next: Part 11 | ao3

time for shenanigans.

Jim’s frustrated.

This whole week has been a major event after another; Joyce’s son vanishes on Sunday, the same happened with Eddie Munson the day after, and the Hollands’ daughter going poof the other day. And then Will’s body had been found in the quarry, which was a cherry pick top on with Benny’s sudden death and the damned MK Ultra stories he can’t get out of his head-

Jim pinches the bridge of his nose. Takes a deep breath. Exhales it out. Yeah, Jimmy boy, exhale some of that shit out.

He’s sitting in his vehicle on the roadside, just at the intersection of Cherry Ave and Cornwallis Road. He doesn’t really have much to do. Theoretically, he should be sitting his ass behind his desk at the station but what is he going to do?

The goddamn suits and rangers of the state had shown up right after Will’s body was recovered and told him to relax because they got it all covered.

Yeah, right.

In a different time, Jim wouldn’t mind shouldering off the responsibility and leave the big hats to finish it. But he’s not that kind of cop. He doesn’t trust the state to place their greasy hands over the cases. At best, they’re going to fuck it all up.

But it seems that they really aren’t kidding about being involved. When Jim had tried to get into the morgue last night to do a better autopsy on Will’s body, the doors were guarded by, not one, but three rangers. He almost punched them all out, but he had simply shared the most polite conversation he can with them before they politely kicked him out.

He had thought about seeing Joyce earlier this morning, but he would be a heartless jackass to accidentally send her to a public breakdown at her son’s funeral.

Now he’s tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, staring at nothing on the road, unsure what to do and where to start.

His mind wanders to the notebook sitting in the glovebox. Having already read it front to back, he can admit that Wayne really has a sharp eye for everything. There’s one particular point about Eddie being last seen with a cut on his hand that’s nagging the back of Jim’s memory cave. But nothing solid comes up so he brushes it aside for now.

“How long it’ll take for you to even care out what happened to my nephew before his body turns up next?”

Jim stops his tapping on the wheel and drops his forehead against it, sighing heavily. Wayne really knows exactly what to say that haunts you for the rest of your damned life.

Not so different to what Joyce had fired back at him few days ago.

Will’s body comes back to his mind again. He hadn’t seen him up-close, not with the coroner being defensive on preventing contamination. But Jim’s not an idiot. He had seen enough of Will’s perfectly intact body to call bullshit on the accepted belief the kid fell into the quarry.

Suddenly, he gets a sinking feeling in his gut.

Jim looks up towards the direction of the laboratory. He’s too far to actually see the building but he feels its presence nonetheless. Enough to conjure up the image of Martin Brenner’s polite smile when he said no, we haven’t seen a child here on these grounds.

He starts the engine.

—

From the way Wayne keeps glancing up at Joyce, she senses that her pacing is getting to his nerves.

It’s fair for him to think that. She’s been practically burning through his kitchen floor for the past thirty minutes. Or she thinks it’s been thirty minutes. Hours were quickly slipping and the sun’s already setting outside. 

Hours without any word from Will or Eddie. Not even a tiniest flicker from the lightbulbs. 

Despite her empty stomach, she can feel bile climbing up her throat. She swallows it down, daring a glance back to Wayne. 

He looks up at her again, his hand rubbing the side of his temple. Joyce tenses when she catches his mouth opening as if he’s ready to say something. She’s already had enough listening to the hauntings of her mother’s scolding in her ear and whispers from the townsfolk (including Lonnie and Jonathan) right behind her back. She doesn’t want to hear another one to her face from Wayne.

Just then, through her anxiety, she gets struck by a realization.

“Of course!” Joyce snaps her fingers in a feign of excitement. “They probably went back to my house!”

Wayne gives her a bemused look. “Your house?”

She nods quickly, already pulling the older man up as she reminds him through a long-winded explanation of how she manages to establish communication with Will and later Eddie at her home. Wayne looks all the more confused, but he hurries along with her to his truck. It’s a quicker drive from the trailers to Cornwallis. Wayne follows her brief directions, soon parking on the driveway. Before he even stops, Joyce jumps out and runs to the front door. 

She realizes a second too late that she should give him a warning about the current state of her living room. But whatever words she’s about to say withers in her mouth when she steps into the house.

The Christmas lights are gone. 

Every one of them that she’s strung up, even a few she had reluctantly pushed to the corners this morning, are nowhere to be seen now. Her only way to speak to her baby, gone.

As she gapes around the room, her eyes land on the suspect, who’s kneeling on the couch and methodically replacing a new layer of wallpaper above it. Right were the letters used to be.

“Lonnie.” She doesn’t know how she finds her voice, but it doesn’t sound like herself. It’s too calm to match the anger burning within her chest.

Lonnie looks over his shoulder, unfazed. “There you are. Thought I had to call the cops when you disappeared this morning. Like mother, like son, huh?”

Joyce clenches her jaw tight at the normalcy of his tone. She glares at him, making Lonnie mockingly throw his hands up. 

“Oh, sorry. Never meant to say that. I was just worried about where you went.” Lonnie chuckles. Then he looks over her shoulder and his expression falls. Joyce dares a quick glance and sees Wayne standing awkwardly in the doorway. She cringes inwardly, motioning at the other man to leave. But Wayne doesn’t move. He just crosses his arms and stares back evenly at Lonnie.

When Joyce peers back at Lonnie, his eyes are darkened. She can hear his teeth grinding as he gets off the couch and towers over her. “Seriously? We just buried our son and you run off to-”

“What did you do to the lights?” Joyce cuts him off. Her voice is still and quiet.

Lonnie raises his eyebrows, his temper briefly quelshed with confusion. “What?”

“The lights, Lonnie. Why did you take them off? And why are you ruining the wallpaper?”

He has the audacity to sigh and shake his head as if his heart is breaking. That liar. “I threw them out.”

It feels like the world just stopped. “What?”

“Because your mind’s not right, Joyce. I can’t see you act like this, pretending that Will’s trapped in the walls-”

“Since when have you ever cared?” Frost drips out of her voice. She hopes it turns into icicles and stabs into her ex-husband’s heart.  “You never gave two shits about me when I had to bust your ass out of jail countless times and take up the night shifts because you couldn’t hold a job anymore. You never cared how hard or loud you’ve hurt me in front of Jonathan. You never, never cared about Will until you thought about hitting him too.”

“Joyce-”

“And now you show your face up, acting like the grieving husband and father so you can make everyone believe you’ve cared. But you never did. Because I bet it’s because of that sweet money the state’s going to donate to your pocket for acting like the way you are. So what gave you the fucking right to take down all of my lights, tear my wallpaper off, and act like it’s for the sake of my sanity?”

Lonnie throws his arms up, his face looming closer like he always does when they fight. “Because you’re sick, Joyce! You’re acting completely irrational and ruining this house-”

“I’m ruining the house? Is that what you care for now?!”

“Yes! Because this is where you and your son live in-”

“If you fucking dare to move back in here-”

Amidst their arguing, Joyce barely remembers Wayne. She just hopes that he had just left already, seeing no point in watching a couple’s dispute. It’ll hurt, but it would be the best for him. He doesn’t deserve being dragged into more of her messes.

Lonnie’s hand suddenly shoots towards her in a blur. Joyce instinctively flinches away, already feeling the phantom stinging of the previous slaps. 

But she doesn’t feel her head snapping to her side or taste sharp copper in her teeth. She peeks her eyes open (she doesn’t realize she had shut them) and sees Lonnie’s arm being held in the air by Wayne’s tight grip.

“If your way to end an argument is to hurt someone, then you’re better to take the loss and leave.” Wayne speaks to Lonnie’s face so softly that his usual gruff tone vanishes for a moment. Oh. Joyce realizes. That’s how his anger sounds.

Lonnie stares at him wide-eyed, a drop of sweat trailing down his cheek. His forearm whitens around Wayne’s fingers the longer they grip into the skin. Finally, Wayne leans away with a curt nod and lets him go, making Lonnie stumble back. He looks at them both before the familiar snarl of displeasure returns. 

“You’re both fucking crazy. You both deserve it together.” He spits just before he storms out, loudly slamming the front door shut. 

Trembling, Joyce glares through the still-open window as Lonnie starts up his car and promptly drives off. 

Wayne scoffs quietly, “Serves him right.”

It should be enough to let her relax and breathe again. But there’s so much of her anger boiling her veins that Joyce grabs her head and curls her fingers into her hair, pulling it harshly so that several strands get ripped out.

This should be enough. But there’s so much of her anger boiling her veins that Joyce grabs her head and curls her fingers into her hair, pulling it harshly so that several strands are ripped off.

She can hear Wayne calling her name. But she doesn’t listen or look at him. She just turns around and stomps her way down into the house. And then there’s a blast of cold air and heavy crunching of leaves under her feet. Before she knows it, Joyce yanks the shed’s door open.

The first thing she sees is a pair of shovels. She grabs them, only for both tools to be somehow tangled with each other. It makes her more mad as she struggles to separate them. But once they’re freed, they get caught against the other tools in the shed.

“You’re kidding me.” She says to nobody in particular except this stupid shed and whatever god is up in the sky who likes making her life miserable. She tries to shove her anger down, but the shovels are stuck again and they’re just banging against the shed, doing nothing but make the buzzing in her head louder and louder and she can’t think of anything other than-

“Joyce.” 

She jumps, her shoulders up to her ears. She whirls around, expecting to see Lonnie crawling back to her. But it’s only Wayne, standing just a few feet away.

She glares up at him. “What?” 

He looks wearily at her and at the shovels in her hands. “What are you doing right now?” Wayne asks, sounding too gentle like he’s trying to coax a scared animal. Thinking of that comparison makes Joyce even more mad.

“None of your damned business.” She hisses. She turns back to what she’s trapped herself in doing and tries to free the shovels. How is it this hard to get a couple shovels out?! 

But she still senses Wayne behind her, even approaching closer. She whips her head back to him, “Leave.”

Just after she says it, the shovels she’s been holding bang against some equipment inside, creating a cascade of metallic crashes.

Her frustration explodes. She drops the handles and kicks at the wall several times hard enough that it almost surprises her it doesn’t collapse. Her hands dig back into her hair as she yells up at the sky. And because Wayne is still here for some godforsaken reason, she yells at him too. 

“Just go! You already know how goddamn sick I am! Just go and spit on me after wasting your fucking time for sitting around and waiting for your nephew-”

Wayne takes another step forward and-

He hugs her. 

Joyce stiffens at first, a second of shock overcoming her. Then she lets go of her hair just so she can pound her fists onto his chest, attempting to twist away from his embrace. Bad women like her don’t deserve hugs like this.

“What did I tell you about using others to comfort your pain, Joyce? Now I’m going to feel awful for wanting to give you a hug. You see what you’ve done? To your own mother, no else?”

Wayne doesn’t let her go. Instead, he smooths her hair down, careful at the aching patches where she’d just abused her scalp. Something about that motion makes Joyce to drop her arms down. Her breath shudders as she lets her face be buried into Wayne’s cardigan. It smells like cigarettes, old oak leaves, and flour oddly enough.

It sends a crack somewhere through her heart.

She doesn’t recognize the wretched sound coming out of her mouth. It sounds like a dying animal, too rough and guttural as if it wants to cut through her throat. Her small body wracks violently with every sob like it’s desperate to rattle her soul out to leave this earth. She wants to leave, but Wayne isn’t letting her. He keeps her arms tight around her, slightly rocking them side to side like a father does to a child. Just like how Joyce does to Will and Jonathan after a bad day and night. 

Thinking about it restarts the cycle of tears again.

After she feels her tears are spent and regains control of her breathing, Joyce taps on Wayne’s arm. He gets the message and unwraps himself from her, though he keeps a hand on her shoulder. The front of his cardigan is nearly soaked through but he doesn’t raise a complaint.

Joyce’s eyes feel swollen. There’s snot and tears running down her face, which she’s quick to wipe away. Once she’s sure she can speak without another threat of tears, she mumbles, “Sorry about that..” 

“No need to apologize. Seems you really needed that.” Wayne tells her softly. She looks up at him and there’s a small sincere quirk of his lips. Not a single ounce of malice or pity is shining out of his doe eyes, just complete reassurance and comfort. 

It almost makes Joyce cry again, but she holds it together and just sniffs her snot back in. 

Silence falls between them, but it’s not as awkward or tense as Joyce expects. It’s more comforting. Maybe breaking down in front of someone who doesn’t immediately taunt her does more wonders than she thinks.

“Do you want to explain why you were wrestling with these shovels?” Wayne asks. A flush of shame comes over Joyce and she looks down to the ground again. Crosses her arms as if it’ll prevent herself from answering.

“Joyce?”

She lets out a shaky sigh. Fuck it. Wayne’s been with her this far.

“I want to go back to the cemetery.” 

There’s a pause. She doesn’t look up as Wayne asks, “Come again?”

She sighs again. Flicks her eyes up to stare directly at Wayne. “I want to see who was that boy they buried as Will.”

Wayne furrows his brows. Then the realization comes over him. “You-”

“I know it’s stupid and very illegal.” Joyce keeps her hands to herself so they don’t flail around, takes a step away from him. There’s something wrong with her in which every time she wants to be taken seriously, another thing happens that keeps testing Wayne’s patience for her.

She continues, “But I can’t stand it. I know in my heart and soul that whoever they found in that quarry just looks like Will, but it’s not him! If it was, they would’ve allowed an open casket or let me stay with him for a bit before-” Her breath shudders again. “I just want to know what the hell is going on!”

Joyce tears her gaze away from Wayne, staring at the ground as if it’ll rip open and spit Will back to her. “If you want to throw me into jail or Pennhurst for this, then go ahead. If you’re fed up with my ‘delusions’-” she spat the word, “then leave and forget about me.”

The silence drags for a horribly long time that Joyce can see their shadows extending before her eyes. Then Wayne’s feet shuffle out of her view. She closes her eyes, shivering from the cold catching up to her.

Then there’s a little nudge on her arm along with Wayne’s gruff voice speaking, “Alright, better now than later.”

Joyce blinks her eyes open, her jaw falling open at the sight of Wayne back to her side and holding out a shovel to her. While carrying the second, no less. “W-Wha-?”

“You’re right on a couple things.” Wayne interjects her kindly. “There’s some strange stuff happening around here these past few days. It has to do with our boys going missing and we both know they’re alive somewhere. If you’re beyond certain that the kid you saw being buried isn’t Will, then nothing hurts to check.”

Joyce almost wants to laugh. She almost asks Wayne if he’s losing it. But she sees that look in his eyes, the hard determination she’s seen in herself too. It gives her a spark of hope again.

She takes the offered shovel. She has to bite the insides of her cheek to keep some hysterical giddiness from showing. Staring into Wayne’s eyes, she says, “If you’re in this with me, for what we’re about to do, then you need to also help me out if we get caught by Hopper.”

Wayne gives out an exasperated sigh, but his mouth quirks up something resembling a smirk. “Let me double check my bail money first.”

—

As they drive up into the cemetery, it’s gotten dark enough that all of the headstones look like lumps. Undead potato lumps. A morbid joke that his sister Suzanna once shared with Wayne when they were kids and has somewhat stayed in his vocabulary. Once he slipped and said it around Eddie few years ago, who had gladly adopted the phrase.

“The grave’s over there.” Joyce frowns, pointing over to a direction behind them.

“And we’re going to stop here.” Wayne says, parking the truck at the very end of the road where the oldest areas of the cemetery start embracing the woods. “Wouldn’t want to park near your boy’s grave and get caught too soon.”

Joyce makes a small ah sound. Wayne cuts the engine and headlights off and they both get out. He takes the shovels from the truck’s back, along with a crowbar and a flashlight. Joyce raises an eyebrow at the crowbar but says nothing as she takes the flashlight and the lead to their destination.

They hurry further in half-crouches, carefully weaving around the other gravestones. The groundskeeper has night shifts for a reason and lord forbid if there’s any sneaking reporters hungry for pictures.

“Here.” Joyce whispers. There’s almost no need for her to point it out with the too-new marble headstone and bouquets of flowers are placed on the recently-buried dirt.

They stand together on the side, staring down at the ground. A little adrenaline rush of I am actually doing this comes down onto Wayne. He should feel ashamed of himself. That he should have listened to his logical side of not helping a grieving woman’s delusions and now it’ll start a landslide effect of following Al’s forbidden footsteps.

But he doesn’t feel anything. A little nerves, sure. But otherwise? He’s just calm. Nothing towards himself or Joyce.

Maybe he’s like this because a part of him already wants to dig up Eddie’s grave in the future just to hold his boy close for the last time.

Or it’s just the Munson thing.

He breathes slowly, repositioning his grip of his shovel and handing the other to Joyce.

She doesn’t take it. She stares down at the still-fresh dirt with a lost expression. “But what if I’m wrong? That all this time, this is Will and everyone was right but I’ve been denying it?”

“Then you’ll cry.”

She looks up, shooting him a baffled look.

“You’ll cry, either out of relief or grief.” He continues, nudging the shovel’s handle to her. “It’s the best any of us can do. And what happens next is up to you.”

Joyce’s eyes well up again but she shuts them tight, her expression shifting to the hard determination Wayne is already familiar with. She opens her eyes and takes the shovel in her hands. Then she gives him a single nod.

Wayne nods back and plunges the shovel’s blade into the dirt.

It’s less back-breaking than he expects. Benefits of growing up south and spending years at the plant, he supposes. The soil’s still loose enough so it might’ve helped easing their efforts. But his arms and knees start to ache after one and half feet in. Joyce’s already trembling at this point, pausing to catch her breath every minute or two.

“I’m not sitting down until we get to the damn casket.” Joyce pants out before Wayne opens his mouth. He wisely keeps it shut.

By the time their shovels hit polished wood, it’s fully dark and a absolute miracle that any groundskeeper hasn’t heard them. Yet. Wayne snatches the flashlight and kneels down to sweep the soil off while Joyce collapses to her feet.

“God.” She tilts her head back, seemingly regretting the motion as it brings some dirt falling on her hair. “I’d almost prefer Mr. Turlington’s gym classes to this.”

“If this was his grave, we would’ve made him proud. Hold this.” Wayne hands the flashlight to her.

“I can barely lift my arms!” Joyce protests, but she takes the flashlight, keeping the beam aimed at the head of the casket. Wayne feels his hands around the edges, shuffling more of the tightly pressed earth away.

He stands up, reaching out for the crowbar above. He moves slowly, feeling conscious of the fact that there is a young boy’s body inside. Any more quicker and heavier movement he and Joyce make might just break the casket itself.

“Did ya get the casket sealed?” He asks.

“No, finding the right casket itself was expensive enough.” Joyce winces right after she says it, as if paying for a casket by itself is the most shameful thing in the world. She eyes at the crowbar in his hands. “Why do you ask?”

“From what I heard, unsealed caskets are easier to reopen.” Wayne kneels back down, roughly scooping out a few handfuls of one wall so there’s a small pocket of space. He looks again at Joyce, silently asking are you sure about this?

She gives him an unwavering stare that all but replies with yes, get on with it.

Wayne wedges the crowbar to the side of the lid. He silently prays that this action won’t taint his memory for eternity and then pushes down on the crowbar with all of his might.

It takes about what feels like hours before a crack resounds and the casket opens. Wayne grabs onto the newly freed lid, pushing it up until the top hits the earthy wall.

Joyce makes a choked noise, almost close to a sob. Wayne himself recoils at the sight of Will Byers’ too-pale face, eyes softly shut as if he was just sleeping.

But the smell…

Wayne sniffs the air. Continues for a moment, unsure if his senses are messing with him. With his eyes still on the boy’s face, he asks, “Do you smell anything?”

A strained chuckle comes out of Joyce. “What?”

“Do you smell anything?”

Joyce falls silent before she starts sniffing. Then again with more consideration. “..No. Just the dirt.”

Wayne manages to tear his gaze away from the boy and back to Joyce. “Doesn’t matter how much chemicals you put in a body for preservation, the smell of rot comes back as soon it’s buried.”

Realization dawns on her face. Then she carefully crawls over next to him, ducking under Wayne’s arm as he still holds the lid up. Joyce looks down at the body and slowly reaches a hand out to the face of her son. She gently cups the cheek, bringing a terrified expression upon her before it shifts into a frown of doubt.

“Do- Do bodies always feel like plastic?” She asks slowly. Wayne looks at her with shared confusion and reaches out to touch the boy’s face. However, his hand must have been too slow or too quick because it instead brushes against Joyce’s.

She gives out a too-loud startled squeal, her head bumping hard against Wayne’s chin. He falls back, hearing a small groan from Joyce. In the process, he loses his grip on the lid and barely stops it from slamming shut by kicking his leg out and holding it up halfway. The weight’s gonna bruise it for days.

“Ow, oh, Wayne!” Joyce is suddenly fretting above him, rubbing the back of her head. “I’m so sorry! You didn’t mean to startle me that bad, it’s just the nerves and-”

“I’m alright.” Wayne means it, even if his chin and leg might not. He’s had worse than beginner’s level grave-robbing. “It’s my fault I scared ya.”

Joyce’s shaking her head. “No, really, I’m sorry-”

Wayne grunts as he slowly pushes himself up. “Would ya get the lid off my leg first?”

“Oh, of course!” Joyce scampers back, groaning with effort as she pushes the lid off. Wayne pulls his leg back to him, rubbing the bone carefully. Yep, he can feel a bruise coming.

“Wayne.” Joyce’s voice is very still.

He sits up more upright. “What’s wrong?”

Joyce doesn’t answer. Her back’s toward him, the flashlight still shining inside the casket. Wayne scoots closer, peering down to see-

Will’s head turned on the side, no longer attached to his body.

It feels like Wayne’s soul is exhumed out of his body all at once. His first thought is, oh lord I just decapitated a dead kid in front of his mother. But somehow through his panic, he notices that despite the damage, there’s not a spot of blood anywhere.

Joyce reaches her hand in again and picks up something. Holds it up close to the flashlight for a closer look.

It’s a wad of cotton.

Wayne checks the head and neck of the body. Thick wads of cotton sticks out of both ends.

“I knew this wasn’t Will.” Joyce whispers, her tone devoid of anything save a hint of triumph somewhere. “None of his moles match and there wasn’t even a birthmark.”

Wayne stays silent, staring down at the body that is not Will Byers. Who that half of the town came and mourned for just hours ago. All of this for a fake body.

“Wayne?”

Joyce’s looking at him, concerned. It feels terribly juxtaposed. A grieving mother sitting atop of her son’s fake body wanting to know if he’s alright.

“Did they tell ya who found the body?”

Joyce thinks for a moment before replying, “Not anyone specific. I think Hopper said it was somebody from the state.”

Wayne swallows but his throat’s too dry. He lifts his gaze up towards the sky at last. The stars are coming out. “Chief told me that the state’s taking over Eddie’s case.”

They both become quiet for a long time. Until they both catch a faint whistling tune of the groundskeeper. Then it’s a mad careful scramble out of there.

—

Brenner studies the new dummy on the table, taking a glance at the reference photographs laid out on the desk besides McNeil, who stands on the opposite side and poorly hiding his fidgeting.

There’s nothing wrong with McNeil’s works. It’s a masterpiece, much like the previous. Anyone who never touched a human body or kept on his payroll wouldn’t notice the difference.

But Brenner always sees flaws in perfection. That’s the duty in being a scientist. Running through the tests over and over until the subjects are one hundred plus ten percent faultless.

It always leaves a bitter taste on his tongue when he skips over a mistake, even for the sake of studying. He’s being more considerate these days after the disastrous cases with Henry and Eleven.

“Is this accurate to the boy’s measurements?” He asks. McNeil stops fidgeting and straightens up with an air of confidence that should be permanent.

“Yes, sir.”

Brenner eyes the small flock of bats and devilish marionette inked on the right arm. “Is this the only tattoos he has?”

“No, sir.”

“Then where are they?”

McNeil clears his throat, almost looking away from Brenner. “It’s difficult to perfect the other designs when there’s bare references of what they exactly look like. Tattoos are heavily variable, sir.”

Brenner sighs quietly in disappointment. He’ll save this discussion of incompetence much later, preferably once Eleven returns. “Then find the exact designs and make sure they match.” He looks down at the blank intimation of Eddie Munson’s face, thinking for a moment. “And give it the impression that it’s been deceased for longer than Will Byers-”

The door suddenly opens and Agent Sterling walks in with an annoyed expression. “We have an intruder.”

Brenner frowns. “I beg your pardon?”

She gestures for him to follow and he’s lead to the screening room of their security footage. One of them shows the police chief Jim Hopper cautiously walking through the basement level, undoubtedly heading to the room with Eleven’s gate.

Brenner can’t help but chuckle. That man truly wants to know more about what they are doing.

“Should we eliminate him?” Agent Sterling asks.

He shakes his head, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “No. Just tranquilize him and send him back home. Place our listening device somewhere in his residence as well.”

“Yes, sir.”

—

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[winterwump]

Hi may i request gun smut? Maybe the scenario can be like, both of us are Yakuzas and we are in Japan, we hate each other sm however we end up on the same bed 🫦 love your writing <3

Tension - Gun x F!Reader

Author’s Notes: Thanks so much for requesting this Anon. I played it kind of fast and loose with smut. It’s definitely still smutty tho so don’t worry lol. This is a long one too so have fun with that. Sorry it took forever and a goddamned day to get this out, I swear that life hates me lol😝

Content Tags: Teasing, Fingering, and Enemies into Lovers (if you squint)

Word Count: 1.7k

It was the night before the month-long Yakuza summit, and you were beyond miserable. But you didn't start off like that by any means. You were excited about the summit, you got more money, the food was free and endless, and you weren’t expected to talk to anyone aside from the foot soldiers. It's not that you were underpaid, malnourished, or a complete introvert. You just like that the summit made everything easier for everyone regardless of rank, and you happened to be ranked rather high. And even with your ranking, your job had been simplified to ‘Stand still and look menacing. Wait for a fight’. And that was fine by you.

It was until you were informed by the Big Boss himself that there was a change in plans and that you were to closely accompany his son to the provided room and board…and stay with him for the duration of the summit. Now that wouldn’t be a huge problem in itself if the Boss’ son wasn’t well…himself. It’s not that you disliked Gun. Okay, that was a lie, you really couldn’t stand him in all honesty. He was a standoff-ish, money-hungry, sadistic pervert as far as you were concerned, and you spared no expense in telling about himself. But orders are orders, and you were pretty sure that Gun was also miserable with his placement as well.

It felt like you were on autopilot all day on the way to the summit location. The travel for the two of you went smoothly enough, but that was only because you two had an unspoken mutual agreement to not talk the entire way there. Which was mostly adhered to, except for when Gun got a call from Goo - his “friend who isn’t his friend but they do friend things” :

“Heyyy how’s the summit?!” - Rang Goo’s voice as soon as Gun picked up.

“I told you it’s not happening until tomorrow. Do you have a listening problem?” - Gun pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Oh yeaaa…whatever!! So is Y/N really your chaperone for the summit?!” - You tried not to roll your eyes at Goo’s attempt at whispering your name despite being on speaker.

“I’m hanging up now.” - Gun’s voice was heavy with exasperation.

“No wait!! Is she? cuz that’s fucking hilar-” and Gun ended the call with a huff.

And that was that. It was nightfall by the time you two actually made it to the room, and you were beyond ready to sleep. As per your job, you went in first to inspect the room and you weren’t surprised by the luxurious state of it, but you were surprised (if not struck with a wave of annoyance) by the single king-sized bed smack dab in the middle of the room. Your mouth hung open in a comical display of disbelief, but that was cut short by Gun all but pushing you out of the doorway to get in. Ugh…

“Close the door. And don’t give me any shit about the room tonight.” - Came Gun’s voice as he made his way to the dresser, setting his bag down. Of course, it was a designer brand…

“You think I like this setup either?!” - You ask with some bite to your voice as you slammed the door closed. Your annoyance was starting to rear its head.

With his belongings settled, Gun made himself busy with a new cigarette. You could’ve sworn it was his 10th one today…

“Ughh will you put that out? You can smoke in the morning. You need to be well-rested for the summit!” - You say, sauntering towards him with your hand held out. Your motion was something akin to what a teacher does when a student is chewing gum in class. The look he gave you in response said it all…

Yeaaaa that didn’t work out, and one verbal altercation later, the room reeks of ‘high-quality’ cigarettes. You decided to yield and let him smoke himself to sleep because you knew that you’d go to jail if he caught an attitude with you again. You knew that feeling went both ways at least.

Both of you were stalling. You both busied yourself with baths (separately) and once that was over, Gun busied himself with a nighttime skin routine that you didn’t know he had. And you busied yourself with checking all of your weaponry. Both doing everything but getting in that bed. But fuck, both of you were tired.

To your surprise, Gun caved first and got in the bed. Well, it wouldn’t be caving if he did it without acknowledging the awkwardness in the air? Either way, you’re no bitch, you’re not gonna let him just have the bed to himself. So in your spite-fueled pep talk, you plop yourself down on the opposite side of the bed.

“You stay on your side, and I stay on mine. Got it?!” - You said with a venom-laced huff. God, the bed felt like heaven.

Gun let out a pained groan - “Jesus, you got it. Would you ease up though? I’m not going to touch you.”

“You wouldn’t dare, you know better than that.” - Your tone was playful, but still had a spiteful edge.

“I should be saying that to you don’t you think? You can touch me. Wouldn’t want to lose your job, now wouldn’t yo-“

His words were cut off by the swift motion of you pinning him down onto the bed's plush surface. It was not the first time you had him pinned, but doing it sparsely dressed was a first. You wouldn’t let that detail sink, because even though the room was dark, you could tell he had a shit-eating grin.

“I hit a nerve. Cute. Now get off me before we do something we’ll regret” - The grin was still there.

“Something we’ll regret? You wanted something to happen didn’t you?!” - You half-whispered. 

“Something like that…”

You had Gun’s lower half trapped between your legs, and your ass rested against his pelvis. Of course, something was bound to happen. So you decided to let it happen. What could go wrong? You leaned down face to face with Gun, grinding yourself down on him:

“Let’s rack up some regrets then” 

That was all Gun needed to hear because before you could really register what was happening, it was you who was pinned to the mattress. You couldn’t help but let out a gasp when you felt his tongue travel up the side of your neck. Just his breathing alone was getting you wet and tingly. The heat was already beginning to be too much.

“Already wet for me?” - Such an obvious question, but it was one meant to get you even more flustered. 

Deciding that you wouldn’t let him get the best of you, for now at least, you responded with a kiss. A fervent and passionate kiss. One that you hoped would shut Gun up, but you were wrong:

“I’ll take that as a yes” - He said in between kisses.

Despite Gun’s few words, they were getting you wetter and wetter. You didn’t respond verbally - but Gun knew how much he was affecting you, and he felt it too. The grinding of bodies would soon not be enough for either of you so you weren't too surprised when Gun hoisted both your legs up in a hurried manner, taking your panties off along with that motion.

The room was so dark that parts of Gun’s face were obscured, but you wanted him to look at you, so badly. It was killing you not knowing what his expression was, so when he leaned down to whisper in your ear:

“I’m about to get you off.” - You knew what that meant. How could you not?

A grin was plastered on your face as he brought his hand between your legs, you hoped that the teasing wouldn't go for too long, you were too wound up. But you couldn’t help but feel that his teasing was not without reason, but all you could do is trust that he knew how much you wanted to let go of the tension that was coiled so tightly inside of you

After properly getting his fingers lubricated from your generous flow of liquids, Gun slides two fingers inside of you. The intrusion was a welcome one and thus didn’t cause any pain, it instead left you with waves of pleasure as he began massaging your inner walls at a languid pace. You could feel your breath quickening and your heart beginning to race. You wanted Gun. For the first time, you felt like you could actually tolerate - no, like him. But that could just be your pussy talking. You wouldn’t know…

His fingers began moving at a faster pace inside of you the feeling left you spasming inside and out. With every one of his movements, the pressure kept building, and Gun was taking far too much pleasure in your unravelling. You bit your lower lip and let your head hang down as you focused on the feeling. You started moaning a little and, unable to control yourself, you let out a soft whimper. He was definitely playing with you right now - he was always playing with you and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.

You began moaning louder and louder. Your body began to shake as your hips rocked and a rush of wetness began to soak the sheets below you, as well as Gun’s hand and forearm. You never knew you could squirt, but here you are. He was manipulating your pleasure and, for once, you didn’t mind at all.

“Ah!” - You felt your body explode and, within a few seconds, you were coming hard. As your orgasm took over, you let out a rather loud sobbing breath. Your body was still shaking and you found yourself not caring if Gun, or anyone for that matter, heard cry out in ecstasy. But when your orgasm finally lulled and your head stopped swimming, you heard yourself whine at the newfound emptiness you were feeling.

Gun had taken his fingers out, and you were crushed. But seemed as if he was elated if not extremely amused by the show you put on for him. In an attempt to soothe your growing concern, Gun simply encapsulated you in his arms. You never thought you would be in this position, but damn did it feel nice.

“We got the rest of the month to keep racking up regrets, Y/N” - He whispered - “Next time it won’t be my fingers”.

Hope y’all enjoyed this one. BYE!!!

[harleyification]

I've been in a Batfamily mood again, and now I wanna remake my Moon Knight x Batman crossover AU cause it has been rotting my brain since November and THIS was the only thing I have ever made for it, asjdksajdkla

(Based off of this post)

Some details, to let my Brainrot Out:

Listen, I know we all love adding our favorite characters into the Batfamily because that group ABSOLUTELY needs more trouble and unhinged behavior, but like. This isn't just adding another kid into the family. This is adding Marc, Steven, AND Jake.

Why does every crossover character have to be the youngest addition?? Why Not the OLDEST addition?? Revoke that Eldest Child License from Dick, imagine THIS: Marc would be around three years older than Dick, and while he would be Bruce's second ward, he would throw that shit around like the law. "Well, I'm older, so I get to pick the first character for Mario Party, and screw YOU, *I'M* choosing Peach!" type behavior

Dick: "Well, Bruce adopted me first so I was here before you, I get to play Peach!!"

Bruce is having a hard time figuring out how to go about this

Marc/Steve/Jake all adore Dick and would die for him. Killing is off of the table, unfortunately.

Everyone is supportive of Steven and Jake, treating Marc’s alters with respect! I love the idea of Bruce or Alfred giving them a journal so that they can keep up with which alter did what that day, and Dick giving them different colored bracelets so that they can tell which alter is fronting at the moment. The three of them actually having parental and sibling support, can I get a HELL YEAH!!

Marc/Steven/Jake being adopted by billionaire Bruce Wayne after running away from home and not having any upfront memories of how he got to Gotham, but knowing that he doesn’t want to go back to his abusive mom and his negligent dad. Emergency Custody is a hell of a drug!

I have no idea how stuff goes down until Jason gets taken in, so consider this instead: Jake and Jason arguing about the morality of killing. Steven and Jason reading together. Marc and Jason doing competitive training. Think about it. Let the thoughts infest you.

Marc and Jake: "I'm not doing free babysitting!"

Steven: "I will, though!"

Steven and Alfred bonding while cooking and Steve is infodumping about his current research project, doN'T TOUCH ME

Cass joins the family early too, because I say so. And Cass wouldn't need the bracelets to see who is fronting in that moment, she would KNOW, and she will either: pester Marc, love on Steven, or pester Jake.

Cass would adore Steven.

We don't talk about the big explosive Elephant in the Room just yet, nope, so instead consider this: Tim coming in and realizing that Moon Knight really is just Like That. Marc would say, "Another one?? Really??" Steve would say "This one is smart and adds onto my research and just spoke to me for 8 hours straight about arthropods, I have found my new real brother", Jake would say "He's a little stalking freak, I like him already"

Jake and Damian is a brotherly match made in hell. Watch the fuck out.

Just. Just Listen to me...just listen...why wouldn’t a morally grey vigilante by the name of Moon Knight NOT fit the bat motif???

Also, Marc/Steve/Jake would get the Moon Knight powers either as a meta-human with a connection to the Egyptian god, Avatars being able to be chosen at birth, or getting them super early through weird means! I think it'd be neat!

Thank you for listening, I hope I gave you Moon Son brainrot

[ouatsnark]

Hi. This isn’t an ask or anything, just me ranting since this is the only place for it tbh. I literally can’t find any OUAT blogs that have similar opinions 😢

Anyway on to the rant

I absolutely HATE that they didn’t do more with Henry’s character! Henry is my favourite character in the show for many reasons, the main one being that he is the backbone of the entire show in my eyes. Without him, Emma never would’ve gone to Storybrooke, and there wouldn’t even be a show at that point.

Henry was a child at the beginning of the series (10 or 11, I don’t remember) so it gave them a lot of room to basically do whatever they wanted with him. I personally would’ve loved to see him go dark, but maybe that’s just me. It would’ve been cool to mix it up seeing as many of the villains in OUAT had a redemption arc of some sort, so seeing someone go from good to bad, instead of good to bad to good again, would’ve been interesting. Again, maybe that’s just me lol.

My point is, Henry being so young at the beginning they basically had a blank canvas and could’ve painted anything on it. Instead he turned out to be a lot like David (one of my least favourites in the show) which kind of pissed me off ngl.

And in my opinion, it would’ve made a lot of sense for Henry to turn bad. Let’s face it, he was never exactly treated fairly to say the least, especially as a child. I know a lot of people like to try and sugarcoat this or just plain act like it didn’t happen, but Regina was awful to him. And so was Emma. I want to sit here and list out all the shit they did to him, but that would be way too long and would take forever, so go back and watch the show if you don’t remember. Let’s just say it includes years of gaslighting, manipulation, and being so ignorant to the point where he had to poison himself because no one would listen to him, and that’s not even the half of it.

Henry always came across as someone who would be pretty morally grey to me, even if he was technically on the good side. Remember his little run-in with Cruella in the Underworld? I haven’t watched the show in a while so correct me if anything is incorrect, but didn’t he literally agree to work with her for something? (I can’t remember what LMAO) Even though she’s a villain. Regardless of the reason for working with her, I doubt you’d see Snow/Mary Margaret or David/Charming working with her, or even Regina at that stage in the series.

Even if they didn’t make him evil, they could’ve done literally anything with his character besides making him a near copy of Charming. They could’ve at least given him his own storyline (I know he technically had his own in S7, but I don’t count that because it was shit lmao, it wasn’t even the same actor 😭). Those two episodes where Henry had to go into the Heroes and Villains book to save his family were the best episodes in the series for me and it would’ve been amazing to see more of it.

Anyway so sorry for the long ass rant 😭😭 Really hope you can post this to see other people’s thoughts, but no pressure since I know you’re not as insane about Henry’s character as I am lmao 💀

So what do you guys think? Leave your thoughts in the comments (or reblogs)!

I lost all interest in Henry once they retconned him and ignored Regina's abuse just so they could have her join team hero.

Personally, I have never had a need to see heroes go dark. There seems to be this huge obsession with that as of late and I honestly don't get it. Like people wanted to see Dark Swan go all the way and I am like "no, no it makes her special that she was able to resist. So no." But alas that is my opinion on that. We had enough villains. I didn't need to see Emma's son become one.