#don x judy

[capten-of-the-ss-robinwest]

I think about these 2 stoopid mother fuckers like 12 times a day They couldn't have given us A single kiss!?!?!

[somewhat-intelligent]

M A G N E T I C

Lost In Space S3 - Judy moving toward Don

[handsome-edvard]

Hot take for the Robinwest nation

I think the scene in season 1 where she gives him the puppy eyes could have been more interesting if he did stick to his firm NO. He storms off and that’s the end of that.

But what if that was just the set up?

Cut to the Robinsons scrambling to figure out how to make it work with just John’s weight in the shuttle, and Maureen is stressed but determined in her calculations, and Judy is clearly considering going with her dad when-

Enter Don West, clad in a bright orange spacesuit, swaggering into the passenger seat of the shuttle saying, “If anyone asks, I got paid for this.”

“Don?” Maureen gasps.

“A lot,” Don carries on, settling into the co-pilot station. “And if I die up there I better get a statue. My own holiday on Alpha Centauri.”

And Maureen is smiling in disbelief and John is skeptical but at a loss, and Penny and Will are relieved. Don sees all of that but he hasn’t looked at Judy. Not yet.

Thing is he didn’t see her behind him in that room when Maureen and John tried to sell him on the idea, and he told them to send him a postcard.

He’d said no because it is his life on the line too, he likes being alive, and doing the right thing does really suck.

So he doesn’t look at Judy right now as he doesn’t know what he’s going to find behind those big brown eyes that previously beseeched him to help. The ones he couldn’t stop thinking about later.

She had looked so devastated by his refusal, so vulnerable, that he is honestly not sure risking his life is enough to get her to talk to him again.

Probably for the best.

He flipped that tanker for her and he lost the money, then they lost Evan eventually. It was all for nothing. From where he’s standing, doing things for Judy doesn’t help him in any way, and that’s a problem because he can’t seem to stop. It’s entirely irrational.

He locks eyes with her later on, after various trials of his recovery time in test launches. He’s even more sluggish with each trial but it can work. They can do it. Don can’t tell what Judy is thinking and she looks away just as quickly as he does. But one thing he knows for certain is how she looks when she’s pissed and this — is not that.

Now they’re about to leave and Don needs an excuse to be near Judy one last time. Debbie clucks beside him and Don figures if he dies up there with John, he should make sure the lucky chicken is with someone else, maybe bring them a bit of extra luck like she did for him.

“I don’t want your chicken,” Judy says, when she realizes what Don has for her.

He thought she looked almost eager when he called out for her (it was endearing, really), and the way she rolls his eye at him right now is—that’s what it is.

That’s what does it for him.

The reason he’s risking even more than he already has is not because Maureen asked or because John needs someone else in the shuttle.

“And I don’t want to hurtle through space in a tin can,” Don replied, “but here we are.”

She doesn’t seem mad at him, not anymore, and that’s good enough for him. If he goes out doing something for her, it’s good enough for him.

He’s a decent person who has been dealt a bad hand and it’s still so awkward for someone like him to admit he’s a smuggler—he never liked that word—and the thing about Judy is, when she looks at him, it’s like she can see who he actually is underneath everything.

That’s why all her appeals to his better nature always succeed. It’s how the prior caught-off guard No eventually turned into a Yes.

It’s not just his life on the line, it’s her life too, and everyone else’s lives. He wants to reaffirm that he is a better man than everyone thinks, that they are past the money.

“Bye Debbie,” Don says gently.

“Don?” Judy calls after him just as he turns to leave. Her eyes are different, almost shimmering with emotion. Doing that thing from earlier but for a different reason. “Hey, try not to die up there, okay? Make sure you fight.”

There it is. Now he knows for certain they’re back on good terms. Beneath the hefty space suit, a flutter blooms in his chest.

Judy is preparing herself for the possibility that they may never see each other again. Don gives her a smile. He wants her to remember him well.

“Do my best. See you on the other side.” He winks at her and departs, hiding his own bittersweet smile.

. . .

When the shuttle explodes as it hurtles through the atmosphere Judy lets out a scream before she even knows it, and her eyes fill with tears for her Dad and for Don, because Don didn’t want to do this. She tried so hard to convince him and she thought she failed until he came back and strapped into the copilot seat.

And now he’s gone. He’s dead because of her. How can she live with that?

. . .

But then when she hears his sweetly bruised voice through the comm, thick with emotion, her eyes fill with tears again. “Are you crying?”

“No?” Don says.

“Yes you are!” Judy laughs and cries a little too, already thinking about when she’s going to see him again.

“They’re happy tears,” John confirms.

Don is so heroic. He made it. Judy is overjoyed and she can’t wait to hear his voice his person, to see the crinkles near his eyes when his smiles begin to form.

. . .

Don shuffles a few paces behind John Robinson. He knows the family is going to be all over the man, so he figures he’ll just give them some space. Although he’s been thinking about Judy he can’t let that show in front of everyone, and so when he becomes aware of her presence, Don tries his best to maneuver around everyone and maybe go see about Debbie.

But Judy pulls away from John and comes to him. Her eyes are full of admiration and pride and relief. It’s crazy how one person can make him feel like he’s a hero among men.

“Hey Doc,” Don says, watching as her arms extend. He catches her quickly, glad to see someone is happy to see him, and not just anyone — her. “That’s right Judy, I am amazing.”

Judy laughs, her arms tightening around him, basking in his warmth. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she says softly.

“Yeah. Me too.” Don pulls back to see that something is different about Judy’s demeanor — like calling her princess might do some things to her. “You good?”

Judy nods. “Never better.”

[lostinspaceage82]

Lost in Space- Major Don West and Judy Robinson in "Follow the Leader". Original Air Date: April 27, 1966

[shadeysprings]

Watching Lost in Space with my man and Judy and Don are giving me such feels ugh!

[ginerva-mollyweasley]

"you are judy robinson and you can do anything"

JUDY ROBINSON → my top 50 fictional characters [36/50]

[604to647]

Dodge

2.9K / Vigilante AU Javier Peña x fem!reader

Summary: Javier Pena does in New York City what he could not in Columbia.

Warnings: AU set after canon events of Season 3. Maybe a wee bit dark but wasn’t Narcos hella dark sometimes? Mention of violence and weapons. Implied ambiguous powers. Established relationship, brief allusion to smut (1). No nicknames in this one! (So weird for me 😂)

A/N: Vigilante AU is the brainchild of the brilliant @almostfoxglove, who inspires constantly with her beautiful moodboards.  Here’s the one for Vigilante!Javi and it’s the entire reason this fic exists - thank you, Freya my dearest 😘😘

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘

⬇️ Barely edited and mainly just vibes 🫣

Dodged a bullet.  It was just a saying.

Or was it?

For a very long time, Javier thought he was just a very lucky man. 

Though he did not realize it at the time, for the entirety of his career Javier had held his proverbial breath waiting for that luck to run out - but it never did.  When he thinks back to all the Medellin fire fights he’s been caught in, his involvement with Los Pepes (that he’s still not sure he regrets completely), the tense relationship he struck up with Don Berna, and all the times Escobar’s scheming and machinations could have easily rendered him collateral damage, he can’t help but marvel at how many actual and metaphorical bullets he’s dodged.

And if he was to renumerate on it further, he might even count his political tangling with Stechner, his role in Elisa’s escape, and (if he was really honest about it) his almost marriage to Lorraine, as near misses.

While not unscathed and usually worst for the wear, Javier Pena has always landed on his feet.

He had never questioned it before.

But now he decides to test it.

When he miraculously evades any major consequences for his “alleged” partnership with Los Pepes, dodging the treason charges that Judy Moncada had almost gleefully laid at his doorstep before her exile, Javier cannot ignore the brushing feathers of some higher power looking out for him.  By the time his deposition in the matter some how lands him a promotion as the DEA's US attaché to Columbia in charge of the fight against the Cali cartel, Javier is certain of its presence.

He heads the Cali operation with a boldness and confidence that pushes the limits of the diplomatic courtesy extended by his Columbian hosts.  Running missions and chasing leads that leave no slack on the legal reins handed to him by the US government.  He’s brash, brave, and reckless – ferocious in his pursuit of justice, almost daring the wings of Lady Luck who rides into battle with him to fail them both.

The way Agent Pena works is not without frustration or devastation; he wins some, he loses more - but at the end of it all, he remains standing.

Javier is almost afraid to put a name to it.  To call it luck seems almost derivative of this protection that he’s inexplicably been afforded.  Enhanced self preservation?  An uncanny ability to evade major bodily harm or danger to his person and livelihood?  It doesn’t matter - after Cali Javier knows that he is someone’s god’s favourite.

The price of this so-called gift appears to be guilt.  Guilt that he was unable to extend this unmerited favour, that he could not invite others to join him under its umbrella of safety.  That he wielded no additional power to protect those that needed protecting was a source of deep shame and anguish that Javier wrestles with on a daily basis.

While he remained relatively intact, Javier could not say the same for the more deserving fellow officers with whom he had the honour of serving alongside: brave Columbian policemen, incorruptible members of Search Bloc, his friends. Carrillo.

What was the point?  Why him?  Avoiding the direst of consequences for only himself, but unable to prevent the same suffering for others feels like a curse at times.

The months after the downfall of the Cali cartel that Javier spends at Chucho’s ranch is supposed to bring him peace in working the land, being with family.  But he cannot find peace.  Not when there had been so many causalities and lives destroyed back in Columbia, and he had learned from Stechner, of all people, that it had all been for naught.

Agent Pena had played fair and abided by Uncle Sam’s rules, and it hadn’t mattered at all.  Unseen political powers were playing a different global game and with their long reaching arms of corruption, swept all of Javier and the DEA’s strategically placed game pieces off the board before the game had even started.  And the worst part is, they had let him continue and go through the motions of putting the Rodriguez brothers behind bars, letting him think he had actually accomplished something when in reality, he had only played the role of clueless puppet in the ruin of innocent lives.  It made Javier sick, and he left the DEA jaded and cynical.

How could he be at peace when those that made the rules didn’t have to play by them, and through hubris and indifference allowed the destructive cycle of the drug trade to rage on endlessly?

But Javier didn’t have to play by the rules, did he?  He had something on his side that allowed him to push the boundaries of the rigged game - but he couldn’t push if he didn’t play.

So, to Chucho’s disappointment, Javier leaves for New York City to seek out his old boss; not for the first time, bureaucratic politics works in his favour and Messina hands Special Agent Pena a new title: Head of the DEA’s NYC field office. 

Javier will never know what strings Messina pulled to get him back in, but he never had any doubt of her success - confident now that when it really matters, fortune will favour Javier Pena.  He’s back to doing what he needs to: hunting down the remnants of the Cali mafia that had entrenched themselves in New York City and carrying out the government’s stated directive against all drugs - marijuana, heroin, steroids.  It’s not easy work by any means, but somehow, he feels at more at home weeding out stateside trafficking networks and shutting down home grown labs in the five boroughs than he did those months he spent in Laredo.

By day, Agent Pena hunts the scourge of the city with the aid of his team of talented agents, all eager to make a difference and brimming with strong moral fibre.  He can’t quite bring himself to destroy their faith in the system that he now knows actively works against them and their efforts.  He allows them to fight the good fight so that they can go home and sleep at night in a way that Javier almost doesn’t remember anymore.  Wiretaps, stakeouts, informant deals, raids and busts – all done by the book, slow going and above board. 

By night, Javier hunts alone.  Armed with the intel collected via those same formal and official channels of his government day job, he sets out to informally and unofficially deal with cartel and drug trade players under the cover of dark.  Hats off to you, Uncle Sam.

The judgment and retribution Javier dispenses is fearsome and precise.  Choosing targets that he knows will inflict immeasurable damage during the time it will take the DEA to bring them to justice (if ever), he methodically crosses off the names on a too-long list one by one.

They never know he’s coming for them until it’s too late.  They don’t know that this vigilante leverages intel painstakingly gathered and vetted by DEA resources in the only way it will ever be truly effective; that he’s more than acquainted with their whereabouts and routine movements.  Their executioner has memorized all of their weaknesses and vulnerabilities before they even know they’re on his chopping block.  They don’t know that the masked avenger stalks through the night and scales building without fear or hesitation, imbued with a confidence that can only come with doing the right thing, and something else that all but guarantees his success.

The investigative and strategic mind that serves Javier as an officer of the law remains his most trusted weapon when he’s off the clock.  He tirelessly pours over surveillance data, building and city plans – identifying single point entrances and exits, quick escape routes, and areas where there will be no witnesses… or civilian casualties.  Never again will Javier Pena allow the pursuit of a criminal to hurt another innocent.

He finds that he’s partial to knives and blades, avoiding firearms completely for his nighttime pursuits.  From Javier’s experience, guns are too easy traced unless he were to engage with the illegal arms trade, and there are some lines he’s still unwilling to cross.  Guns are the weapons of the loud and arrogant, the sometimes ignorant – knives obey only skill and discretion.

But his preference is to use his hands.  Every time Javier feels the crush of bones or the splitting of flesh beneath his fists, his chest fills with pride and accomplishment.  The splattering of blood and the swollen, mangled bodies of his targets after he’s through with them become like therapeutic art; his hands are his chosen instrument and he paints his canvas for the evening with bloodshed and barbarism, expressing his bottled-up fury at his past failures and the grief he still keeps buried deep for those he’s lost.

Even the squelching of the red sticky liquid that pools out from where his blades land true and the gurgling of blood-filled mouths become welcomed melodies to his ears.  The final desperate gasping for air and the crunch of shattering bones act as the percussion section of a violent orchestra – one that Javier that conducts with the passion of a musician who’s finally found his muse.

He almost likes it when they fight back – giving him permission to discard any restraint he might have been exercising over his savagery in the name of efficiency.  With every blow he lands and every vital organ he guts, Javier feels like he’s fighting for them all: Carrillo, President Gaviria, Helena, Christina, sweet little Olivia’s mother, freaking Puff the cat.  Fighting for them now like he should have fought for them back in Columbia.

His actions do not go wholly unnoticed.  The DEA picks up chatter about a masked vigilante who seems to only target drug lords and narcotics organizations, one who seemingly appears out of nowhere to strike deadly and crippling blows to the cartels before disappearing without a trace.  It sounds like something straight out of a comic book.  A few news outlets run a couple of pieces on him, but the NYPD and federal agencies are all too overwhelmed by this War on Drugs™ that Javier knows they’ll never win, to look a gift horse in the mouth.  For now, the hunter does not become the hunted.  Once again, luck favours Javier Pena.

Though he is satisfied with his ongoing results, Javier is nowhere near immortal or indestructible.  He bleeds and bruises, his ribs crack and his knuckles split.  He’s constantly dog-tired and concussed, every part of him is scraped and achy, but he heals.  He’s alive. 

Each poorly set bone break and new scar carved onto Javier’s body is worn with pride – collected like trophies that fuel the fire of his resolve and righteousness. 

He doesn’t feel the guilt anymore.

The only time self reproach creeps up on him is when Javi lies to you.  He feels the low stir of something uncomfortable in his chest when he claims to be going on a DEA nighttime raid and your sweet response is to tell him to be careful and wish him back to you soon.  It feels even worse when he slips out of your warm, safe bed while you remain unaware and asleep like an innocent angel, and it surges hot and shameful when he slips back under the covers while it’s still dark and you welcome him, soft and inviting, oblivious to the violence and brutality that now clings to his naked skin.

He should leave you be, let the goodness you radiant remain unsullied by his darkness, but he can’t.  He fell for you hard and fast, head over heels since the day he saw you buying a hotdog from the vendor outside the DEA’s downtown office.  Chain-smoking away the stress induced by the bureaucratic red tape he had waiting for him upstairs, Javi watched in slow motion as a mugger took advantage of your attempts to balance your belongings with your lunch – violently grabbing your purse off your arm.  His fists clenched instinctively and he was about to leap into action when you rendered him unnecessary - karate chopping the perp with your briefcase without a drop of mustard falling from your hotdog.  He’s amazed, amused, tickled – a litany of light and joyous emotions Javi had forgotten were possible.  He comes over to ensure the would-be mugger doesn’t retaliate and asks if you’re okay; he swears the smile you give him is more dangerous than Escobar himself ever was.

You’re the most perfect thing in Javi’s life and the only thing he has just for himself.  You play no role in his quest to snuff out the insidiousness that sinks its teeth deeper and deeper into this city everyday, and unlike the women of his past, you aren’t an atonement for his previous complacency and deep seeded regrets.  You just let him be – and he’s just Javi to you, not Agent Pena or even Javier.  Just Javi with whom you happily wile away hours talking about nothing and everything, who holds you when you cry to sappy movies, who you convince to try every ramen joint on the island of Manhattan, who pulls the most stomach caving, soul shaking orgasms from you.  In return, you give him a new peace – one where his nightmares end with soft and loving arms hugging him awake, where the confessions of his past misdeeds and failures in Columbia aren’t met with pity or judgment but with compassion and tenderness; a peace that seems to know no end - entangling and weaving its delicate and ever-growing tendrils with something that reminds Javi of hope.  You give him a peace he didn’t know was possible for someone like him, and one that he’s not sure he deserves.  Javi loves you.  But he lies to you.

He thinks, no, he knows, that one day it will all come to a head - the people he hunts as DEA, the vigilante justice he dispenses at night, and the life he’s come to treasure in the home he’s built with you.  And when that time inevitably comes, Javi hopes – prays - that whatever grace has deigned to keep him from succumbing to fates suffered by many better men than he, will once again come to his aid and prevent him from losing what’s truly important, what makes his life worth living.

That time might be tonight.

The evening has been wonderfully typical, bellies full, you and Javi are on your way to try a new ice cream place for dessert when you hear two gunshots ring out.  Then more shots in rapid succession as sirens approach.  Javi pushes you down behind some parked cars - finding a safe line a sight from which he assesses the situation to ensure that the two of you are a safe distance away before properly reading the scene. 

With some weariness, Javi realizes he’s played a role in what’s happening in front of him.  Two nights ago, he took out the numbers man and head of security for the remnant of one of Pacho’s old distribution networks.  It seems a local gang has decided to take advantage of the sudden power vacuum and take the territory by force.  But with the NYPD now arrived on scene, the rival gangs unite against their common enemy, and Javi counts four, five, police officers currently being pinned down behind their patrol cars by round after round of gunfire.

He should help.  But he doesn’t have a firearm on him and his DEA badge alone isn’t going to do any good.  He could pretend he’s a citizen, but that would never fly – for all the same reasons he wears a mask during his nightly crusades, Javi knows he would be identified sooner or later, and without some flexibility to do what’s needed, he would likely find himself pinned under a hail of bullets like his brothers in blue.

And you.  How could he leave you?  You must be so scared right now.  He looks over to you and to his shock, not only do you look calm and determined, you’re holding out the black cashmere scarf that you’ve unwound from your neck, offering it to him in your open hands.

Javi looks at down the scarf, then up at you – confused, stunned.

Pushing your scarf towards him, you give your brave boyfriend a wise and reassuring smile, “Take it, Javi.  You need to cover your face, don’t you?”

It takes Javi more time than the situation affords him to comprehend what you’re saying.  How long have you known?  His world is simultaneously eerily still yet wildly spinning, with you at its calm centre.  Wordlessly, Javi takes your scarf and wraps it swiftly around his head until only his eyes remain exposed, securing the ends with a tight knot against the back of his head so his makeshift mask doesn’t slip.

Your eyes now wide and worried, you nonetheless press a confident kiss to Javi’s lips through the luxurious fabric, “I’ll be fine, I promise.  Go and be careful, my love.”

Feeling Javi return your affections and the air of something like ‘thank you’ puff through the soft wool against your lips, you hold steady the look of adoration and devotion in his chocolate brown eyes with one of your own before you see them turn towards the ongoing cacophony of bullets with a steely resolve. 

Holding your breath, you watch your Javi slip into the night.  “Come back to me,” you whisper, unaware that you’ve already been gifted the promise of his safe return. 

[tookthe-405]

On our way

Chapter 1 :

We’ll keep falling on each other

DONATIONS & LINKS 🇵🇸

DAILY CLICK🍉

Loser!ellie x ex-bsf!reader

ROADTRIPPPP

authors note: first chapterrr🤪 ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE SO PLS

And pls tell me if the chapters should be shorter and what kind of perspective I should write from (Ellie pov will come later when I’ll fit), LONG AF

Summary: modern Jackson au!

you and Ellie were best friends through your childhood. Now your just neighbours who act like enemies towards each other, but after an incidence you both decide to run away together.

Joel lives 💯

warnings: anxiety , Panik attack?, alcohol, smoking, feeling of throwing up (only mentioned once) smut in future chapters!!, chaotic and stupid arguing between reader and Ellie, school anxiety, messy af (I mostly write at night when the demons come out🐺)

(ellie is 18 and reader is 17 (soon 18))

Readers pov:

6/25

You couldn’t remember the fall out.

For a matter of fact you couldn’t remember anything that happened that night.

You just knew that the next morning Ellie and you weren’t friends anymore. You guys weren’t anything, just total strangers who knew more about each other than any other.

“Iced Coffee and 4 chocolate donuts should be your order”

Your head snaps up and an older guy holds out a bag of donuts.

“Yes, thank you”

You quickly scurry out of the waiting crowd, out the dinner and into the summer air.

2:25 p.m. If Jody would finally pick you up, the both of you might only be 10 minutes late to the game.

While you're waiting, you take a donut out of the bag and realize as you're eating that you don't have a cold ice coffee in your other hand.

"Fuck”

you really wanted that coffee, and by any normal logic you should just go back.

But the fear of embarrassment won. so you decide to just wait outside without a coffee, feeling the dizziness of the lack of sleep in your brain.

The day before was the last exam and you couldn’t sleep the whole night, because of your anxious thoughts that are so unjustified that it’s actually embarrassing.

you watched the cars drive by, as you wait for Judy to pull over.

Today was the last school day. Ever. This morning was the last morning you would ever be in a high school class room to study.

After waiting for a while you hear the horn of Judy`s car or rather her parents car, since both of you are broke and only one of you has their license.

"i forgot my coffee" you complain as you collapse into the passager seat.

"yeah but you didn`t forgot the donuts and thats the really important thing here" Jody happily takes the box full of donuts, out of your hand

"footbal games always stress me out" you rummage through your bag, looking for gumm or just something that will help your body through this hard time.

"i hope my exams were good" you tell her anxious.

"It was our last fucking day, dont worry about something that is over soon. Those last days don`t really matter no one cares"

"I do"

Judy scoffs, puting the donute to her mouth again, all while looking at the street.

"I know, thats your problem. Really, you need to fix that. Your grades are amazing and whatever college you wanna go to, will say yes."

Now you scoff.

"right then why haven’t they replied yet then?"

"because you were too anxious too send your application, you almost threw up in my room"

Your face contorts at the memory. Judy's poor cat hissed at you the whole time because you couldn't sit still at all.

"yeah sorry he gets like that, but not all cats are this easy to annoy i swear"

Your giggle fills the car and you share the last donute, as judy tries to find a parking spot which is obviossly not that easy anymore.

"goddamit those wild people are so greedy" her hands grab the steerig wheel harder, but theres simply no other free spot anymore.

You grow even more annoyed now.

The thoughts in your head take more space than you usually allow them.

The whole morning was shit, the whole day is shit and your life is fucked if you don’t get into university.

"i think we need to use the other one" judy says

"then we`ll have to run through the whole fucking school, were already late, Malik is playing!"

Out of the corner of her eye, she looks at you, thinking, and finally sighs.

"get out I’ll park the car" You immediantly regret snapping at her.

"you dont have to-"

she interrupts you (no suprise)

"bro get out of my car. It’s my fault we`re too late anyway and we both know im only here for the fries"

For a few seconds you hesitate, but then you grab your bag and the donut, and get out the car. Outside, a warm brise tickles your skin, now that the sun is shining right on your face. You pinch you eyes.

Judy dissapers around the corner and you wave, hoping she saw it, but the worry leaves with her because you start running towards the football field.

The whole row was full, every seat. You try to push your way through the crowd on the front, which didn't make it any easier because everyone was pushing forward against the bar to see better.

And it was so loud, every type of noises from every angle. This is your last game of course everyone will be loud, Jesus you’ll be loud, but the game hasn’t even started.

Arriving in the almost last row, Lyla waves to you and you sprint towards her.

"I don't know how you manage to save us seats, thank you so much," You almost scream, because the large group sitting behind her started singing the fucking national anthem.

lyla quickly hugs you and sits right back down. "I don't know how either, but here you go. Where's Judy?"

Her gaze wanders behind you to look out for her, as if judy is hiding behind you "Looking for another parking spot and getting us some fries"

You feel the light box in your hand and remember the one donut inside it.

“Here we’ve left you a donut”

“How generous” lyla replies smirking

Your attention turns to the football field. No one’s there.

“Everyone is still in the cabins, you're not as late as you think" she adds while slurping her milshake.

Malik is Lylas brother and a good friend of yours. Even Judy likes him, and that's saying something.

After the "incident" you tried so hard to find another group of friends, that one day it actually happened.

Which wasnt easy, before ellie you didnt relly need other friends. You also didnt want other ones. You always thought she felt the same way.

Her company, her words, her feelings and thoughts were all you wanted.

"Holy shit im not late!"

Judy's loud voice pulls you out of your thoughts. She quickly sits down next to you and hands you the large french fries package. You grin at her and pass them on to lyla. The loud noises became quieter and quieter, which made you hear the microphone voice.

"Dear seniors and juniors, After weeks full of learning and exams, one last football game with our beloved team and a guest team of their choice should be enough for you. I don't understand why you wanted to have this when every one of you’ve seen so many other games, but as you want. That’s the last one really though, please."

Judy giggles at the voice of the principal, but with empathy rather than mockery.

"Poor Ms. Servopoulos, juniors and seniors are not easy. The Other Class's prank surpassed everything"

lylas eyes widened at the memory. "Which of the 20 One?" She asks, leaning a bit over my lap to hear judy better.

"The one where they all had their tables outside at the_" Judy's bright voice gets stuck in the air, and she looks past me with squinted eyes in dismay.

You know why and didn't want to turn around.

But you do it anyway.

She wore her typical short baggy shorts and a red oversize t shirt with a fucking beanie , which makes her look like the love child of Adam Sandler and Jesse Pinkman.

You’d be happy to laugh at her if she didn't look so fucking good. But you chuckle a bit in your head at the Beanie, because it’s fucking june.

She looks down at you , just standing there.

Ellie has always been a bit taller than you. You might be sitting right know, but you still know That hasn't changed yet. You don't have to get up to be sure. You would notice if she grew even 1 cm. You don't know if she would still recognize that about you.

The familiar, soft and light brown freckles on her face. As a tween you always wanted to connect them, to find out how it would turn out. Or how she would look. Or react. You wanted to make her laugh so bad it hurt.

"Seth told me to bring this too you"

The Ice Caffee, with your name on it, is suddenly right in front of your face.

"Why should I accept it? It's already warm anyway" The irritated pitch in your voice cannot be ignored

Elie's gaze remains neutral, but there was some caution in her expression. "He forced me when I was paying, just take it and throw it away."

"Why didn't you throw it away?"

"Because im at a point where I listen to that old man for my benefits. Seth hates me already. He didn't even tell me about the senior special last week" she protests

You roll your eyes in annoyance.

"i dont give a shit about you or the now hot coffee"

Your argument became more intense, Judy and lyla exchanged glances but stayed out of it. You want to sort out your shit yourself and they know that.

"just fucking throw it away ellie!"

"No, I'm sitting at the top and have to go down all the fucking stairs and-"

"I don't care Ellie"

The people around slowly became aware of the both of you screaming, and you wonder for a second how strange you both must look right now. How you line up like little kids. But ellie also hurt the child version of you. God she has hurt so fucking many versions of you.

"just be happy that I’m even bringing this too you, i didnt really had to do that"

Her hand holds the plastic cup so hard in front of your face that it looks like it's about to explode.

The fact that she thinks she has a right to be angry with you bothers you even more, as you try to hold back your tears. You try to imagine her as adam sandler, screaming at you in this fucked up voice from grown ups, to make the tears go away.

"right i didn’t ask you to do anything, you decided to be so stupid and come over here"

she chuckles sligtly at your words, really pissed now. "you bitch-"

The last words never came out of her mouth. But the coffee out the cup. On your shirt.

Frightened, you take a loud breath in and stand up. Ellie has already put a safe distance between the both of you and her own mouth is open with surprise and startle.

Behind her stands a paralyzed Joshua, with his hand on his mouth.

"I swear, he ran into me...," she babbles desperately to herslef, waving her hands in the air, the empty cup on the floor now. Looks like the rest of the liquor soaked your shoes.

Yo didn’t let her finish. You mumble to lyla and judy not to follow you and that you would call them later. You grabbed your bag and Then left.

And you cried the whole ride home with your mom next to you. And not because of the coffee.

The smoke comes out of your mouth, you take the ciggarette to you lips again, and breathe in deeply.

If you smoke in your room, you always have to lean almost completely out of the window, now with the shadows of the trees falling in your face.

The light, split by the limbs, danced to the movements of the branches. There was a small and almost sweet breeze in the air.

The sun is still shining, but the golden hour is almost here.

You get goose bums on your arm as a cold breeze comes, and you put out the cigarette on your ashtray.

As you lie down on your bed and just stare at the wall for a while, the dark smell of cigarettes is still in the air. your parents don't care as long as it doesn't get into the rest of the house.

You grab a book from your bedside table and start reading.

"And when you at last find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter- they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped darek inside yous so long"

You close the book with a jerk.

Yes, maybe no sylvia plath for today.

The buzzing of your phone makes your head move to the side.

Judy: Malik won

Judy: Tonights a party at the beach, everyones going

Your eyes stare back into the void of your ceiling.

Ellie has had so much influence over you and your feelings for so long, that has to stop at some point. And with all the anger in you, you think that today it will.

You get up and stand in front of your closet, you rummage around to find something and you do. A t shirt that belonged to ellie.

Your fingers brush over the dark green material. It was a fucking normal t shirt. Except that it wasn't.

"Today it will stops"

You put the t-shirt in your backpack and look for an outfit that was well suited for the beach. In the end, you wear short jeans shorts, where your grandma had sewn in flower patterns years ago, With a light blue shirt it goes nicely with the flowers.

you: can you pick me up?

Judy: I would love too :)

You quickly brush your teeth to get rid of the smell of smoke. Outside, you can already hear Judy's honking. You sprint down the stairs with your backpack and look for your beach shoes.

"Where are you going" Your mother is standing behind you with her arms crossed. In her old cardigan, she looked like she did a few years ago and you almost get a déjà vu.

"A party, Judys picking me up"

"how long are you gonna be there?"

"Mom im going to be 18 in what now 4 days you dont have to ask me that anymore"

she scoffs

"yes i do and guess what? i also want you to text me So i know youll be fine"

Nervously, you look out to see if Judy's car is still there, maybe she thinks you've changed your mind.

"Ok, Mom, I'll probably go to Judy's and be gone till midnight."

Suspiciously, she looks at you from head to toe, but (luckily) gives in.

"okay but please call me if something happens. Be smarter than your brother"

Your body flinches at the mention of him. "Has… he called lately?" you murmur

She looked at the floor and you thought for a moment she was going to cry. "No, but maybe if you call him, he'll answer"

You nod, but you know you won't do it.

He doesn't care about you either.

~

"I'm proud that you're coming along" Judy and you are walking, with beer in your arms, towards the beach where a few people have already gathered.

"I mean, that was a great show, a few people definitely noticed it"

You sigh at the unpleasant memory. "Then that's the way it is, I think a few other things are going to happen tonight, that are far more interesting than a girl with coffee on her T-shirt"

"I hope so" A mischievous smile on her face.

You look around to find lyla and malik, But because of all the people, it doesn’t really work. You were sure that there weren't that many seniors and juniors, but that a few friends of others came along. There was a big fire and even a barbecue.

After wandering around for a while, you find the two siblings. They had already made themselves comfortable on the big blanket and had taken some alcohol with them, but the bottles will probably spread over the whole beach anyway.

"Finally I see you, everything ok with you?" Malik mentions as he stands up, giving you a vigorouslyhug. "Really fucked up what happened"

You digress with a wave of your hand and sit down

"im fine, but you won, tell me abou it!" You try to make your voice as shrill as possible to make it clear that you don't want to talk about it.

“oh yeah we won, I made a touchdown, obviouly"

"almost didn’t catch it tho" throws lyla into the round and you giggle.

"Shut up, we only won our last game Ever, Because of me!”

Pride, but also the quiet pain of the loss of his team, can be noticed on his face andin his voice. The reality that you try so hard to run away from hits you again. high school is over, real life begins now.

“whatever, im getting something to drink and then im gonna tell sam to put on some music” Lyla ties you back into the moment. "I'm going with you , I need a drink of Voda-Coke"

~

Later that night Mr. Brightside was what got you on your feet and into the crowd.

Mesmerizingly, the fire flares higher and leaves just light trail of smoke behind. Malik and Judy are now singing along loudly with the others.

All these people who so clumsily sing the song about a heartbroken man, as if they would die if they don't do it, carry the same fate with them. They will all wake up tomorrow with a headache and worries about the next day. as it is one day closer to real life.

Some have broken families or parents, complicated friends, grief and draining fear of the future.

Knowing that it was like that but everyone was still singing along motivates you to do it too.

"Here more vodka has to work not taste good" Judy pours more vodak into your cup, but misses more than ends up in it.

Now you just laugh, because why did you thought so long about everything, this night was a good decision.

"I need to dance like I physically need to dance"

She grabs Malik's arm as he pours more beer next to her.

“let’s danceee!"

Lyla stands next to you, grinning and sober, and you both watch her.

"he likes her"

Lyla explains

"I know" you reply.

“That’s fucked up”

She looks a bit worried, as she watches the two of them dance and sing, with her arms crossed

"is that bad? or are you the "dont date my fucking brother" type of girl, please dont be by the way its always a bit-"

Your brain is mush, your tongue works on its own and Lyla obviously didn't like that

"no of course not, i don't care about him or who he dates"

The light from the fire reflected on her skin, she looked like a painting drawn at sunset and you wished you had your camera with you. It would be a shot of a very sad girl, with a lot of repressed feelings that she will never explain to a human soul.

But she didn't have to, because you understand.

You once looked at someone like that, from a distance where these looks were not visible to the person, where they were safe.

Comforting her was your first thought, dumb decision because a drunk person comforting a sober one never works out.

"I'm sure judy likes you back"

Alarm bells could be seen in her eyes.

"shut up you don't know that"

you laugh but it sounds unstable.

“No your right I don’t”

It looked like a lot of fun, everyone singing and drinking away their worries, you just wanted to join the dancing crowd when you see her. Again.

Fast an quickly, just ignore her, act like you didn’t see her.

But your eyes lock with hers and your stomach sinks.

In that moment you wish you could just admit that Ellie will always be a part of your mind. Wherever you are, with whomever, she will always appear In your mind and she will haunt you.

The worst thing is that it was also your fault, you allowed this relationship to be far too deep and perplexed even though you knew that it was becoming too emotional.

Ellie's presence on the other side of the fire, fills you with all those deeply buried feelings, as if she dug them up with her own hands. As if you told her where you buried them.

“I really don't understand you two"

with a snap you arrive back on planet earth.

"what?"

"the both of you. starring at each other, like you're about to run through fire to be just a bit closer. Makes me want to puke" lyla repeats.

Disbelief and vulnerability spreads through your chest and all those lights are too bright, the music is too loud and Ellie is too close.

"It's ok to forgive, we don't even know what happened so be honest, how bad was it?"

brushing all those feelings off, or at least trying to, you turn around and disappear into the darkness.

In a kind of trance you push your way through the many people, a few call after you, and you are sure that you have run into someone. You just didn't notice anything about it.

You stop in front of the many cars. You used to drive with your father to the local supermarket or other short distances, but you're not willing to steal a car.

Your head turns to the right then left, looking for something, anything that will take you away from here.

Cars, skateboards and bicycles.

Without thinking about it, you grab an unchained bike and get on it. The adrenaline in your veins works on its own and has far too much influence on your body.

It took some time to get stable on it, because the tears in your eyes made it difficult to see. Nobody seems to have noticed that you ran away and that you are riding a bike that doesn't belong to you.

The road was pitch black dark.

The warm summer wind wipes your tears away, the bright street lights of the city can be seen in the distance.

You step on the pedals and realize that you have arrived on the local road.

Out of breath, you press your fingers on the brake lever.

Desperately trying to get your lungs to return to normal, mind concentrate on the outline of your shadow that was visible on the floor, because of the street lanterns.

You get off the bike in silence, put it down next to you on the sidewalk and sit down.

The pumping of your veins feels like electricity.

You could still hear a few cars in the background.

You brush away strands of hair from your forehead.

“Fuck” you hear yourself whisper.

The tears were just about to come back when you hear a car turning.

She still drives Joel's old truck.

The vehicle stops in front of your feet and you notice that some of the light green paint has rusted off.

That wasn't the case the last time you saw that thing.

Ellie slams the car door loudly behind her, so she looks back to see if everything is still fine.

The feeling of shame just bubbles out of you and drips onto the floor, as she steps in front of you with even louder steps.

your head lifts up just a bit, to look at her. Her nose is a bit crooked and she's breathing just as fast as you were a few seconds ago, it looks a bit like she was running after you.

“What the fuck are you doing”

Ellie Williams will always come from the far corner of the world and remind you that you will never let go of her.

The effects of the alcohol still had an influence on your brain, so you stay calm.

“calming down"

For a few seconds it's eerily quiet, for a moment you thought Ellie had left again, but the squeaking of her sneakers prove the opposite. Her body settles down next to you.

"You look really stupid, sitting here like that."

You scoff mockingly.

"yes, that's exactly why you're sitting next to me bitch"

"don't fucki-"

"Don’t act so innocent, remember what you said today before you spilled my coffee on my shirt”

Her head turns to you, sweet regret and longing in her moss green eyes. She scans the bike next to you.

"i think i stole that" the embaressment goes up your cheeks.

"yeah totally badass, but we have to bring that back later" she chuckles softly.

The bright beam of light from the lantern above you gives her face an bright tint , like the beach sun always did in the evening.

"sorry... about the coffee, joshua ran into me and-"

"Yes, I know you've said that before"

She drops her head. No idea why she's sitting here, but you don't mind. you just wanted to capture her and keep her close to you, like a butterfly.

"your brother called me" Ellie mentions it so casually that it shocks you to the bone.

He can even call her but not you. After she just sat down, you were as close as ever.

"what did he say"

"He wants us to come visit him."

Her pupils were large, but you assumed it was because she just drove a dark route and not because she was high. She's way too lucid to be high.

"why? and why the both of us?"

Ellie shrugs her shoulders cluelessly

"He said that we would like Florida, that he was getting a new apartment next week and that we should visit him. You didn't tell him anything about me?"

"I haven't told him anything Ellie, we haven't been able to get in touch with him for months"

You can clearly see from her expression that it makes as little sense to her as it does to you, which worries you even more. something is wrong.

You can feel how your hands shaking, you tried to tell yourself that your just cold.

"Alex said that he tried to call you and your parents, but the line never got through, fuck he even reached Joel"

You continue to shake and Ellie gently grabs your shoulder like she has often before, when you were lost in your head, when you were so afraid of roller coasters that you almost vomited or when you cried because Alex moved out 3 years ago.

Ellie's own security was always an anchor for you, when things got too confusing she strengthened you and even though you didn't talk to each other for almost a year, she still decided to tell you that your brother was fine.

That he wants you with him.

Sometimes, on the particularly melancholic nights when loneliness and nostalgia take over, you read Sylvia's poems and it just clicks. That all because this girl with her hair that is way too short and her pants that are way too big and her full lips, her unhealthy obsession with the universe and planets, exists on the same time as you.

“There’s gonna be a explanation or a reason whatever but just calm down for now okay?”

her voice is suppressed but still safe. yes the Ellie Anchor effect, fuck that shit

“Okay yes your right what the fuck”

“Yeah I can be right sometimes”

“ I Doubt that”

Her lips pucker upwards and yours follow suit. you are still too close to each other, it all feels too new and yet too nostalgic.

The old patterns gave your heart a little sting, you quickly shook off her hand on your shoulder. You clear your throat, thanking the universe or whoever there is that it's night.

Otherwise Ellie wouldn't have been able to miss your red cheeks. In your mind you beat yourself up because you still feel this way after everything she did.

"Show me your phone"

Your hand goes protectively to your back trouser pocket. "um no?!"

Ellie Scoffs thinking your joking, but when she sees that you’re serious, she laughs.

"just give it? the fuck do you think im gonna do"

"I don't know"

With a little nudge to your foot, she gives you that look again that shows trust and you give in.

"fine"

It's a little painful for you, this morning you had a mental crisis because of her, now you letting her scroll through your contacts.

"yeah, sorry to disappoint you, but this is not your bros number"

But that must be his.

Your parents gave it to you.

Oh.

"show me" you said firmly, having a really fucked up scenario in your head, about why this is the wrong number.

Ellie takes out her phone and shows you your brother's contact. chats, phone calls, everything is there. the one from this week too.

"this doesn't make any sense, I just- I don't get it"

"Your parents gave you the number?"

You nod, "My mom said, a few Months ago he had to change his number, in the beginning we texted a bit but never really called"

your eyes switch from her phone to yours to check the numbers again and again .

"After a few days, he didn't get in touch at all, with no one. We thought he was just done with his old life." you pronounce the words and your stomach turns.

Ellie's eyes stare thoughtfully at the asgap in front of you. You're helplessly trying to build up eye contact to figure out what you're thinking.

"I think they lied to you… He said something like this could happen" She says it so fucking sure.

You couldn't take in any more and you get up with your eyes are watering "What the fuck are you talking about Ellie" Your voice broke with the trust in your parents, even Ellie looks at you sympathetically.

"Alex said on the phone that he has been trying to reach someone from home for a long time, but it doesn't work. He was so desperate that he even called me and joel. Do you think your parents or your mom-"

you raise your hand to tell her not to finish the sentence. "Why… would they do that?"

She gets up and comes closer to you. "He mentioned that your mother said he shouldn’t call her anymore or you anymore, that even you don't him in your life anymore"

It feels like your whole past is falling apart, all the beautiful moments with your family, you even want the bad memories back.

"Hey"

Ellie's soft fingertips gently touch the back of your hand. Roughness was still there, she hasn`t stopped playing guitar.

"lets run away"

a/n: omg, the chapters are gonna be shorter next time and we’re also on the road PLS STICK W IT

(and reblog😍)

anyways if you’ve come this far ur a real survivor thanks 🫶

@yourelliewillms @bready101 @liasxeatt @darkerstarsstuff @elliezato @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @lovelyxbaby @yalaysbee @macaroni676

[somewhat-intelligent]

You’re More Than My Heart, You’re My Blood

Flufftober Day 1 - "I've got you"

@flufftober

(Read on AO3)

WC: 1086

---------

Like every night since they brought her home three weeks ago, it’s his daughter’s soft cries that wake him. Little whimpers and whines that he’s learned will quickly morph into full-blown wails. He has a minute, at best.

Don keeps his eyes shut tight, listening. Waiting.

Maybe, just maybe, for the first time, she’ll go back to sleep instead. She’s gotta sleep through the night at some point, right? But seconds later he’s rubbing his face and blinking into the low dark as Lina’s cries do the expected: become a little louder. A little more insistent.

Barely a month old, and she’s already a force of nature. Just like her mother.

Don exhales a laugh, picturing Judy’s expression when she wants him to do something: her full, pouty lips; her big, pleading eyes...

Yeah...

He never stands a chance against that look.

Another cry hits his ears, and Don tilts his head toward the corner where Lina’s crib sits, her light-up mobile casting a dance of stars across the ceiling, the walls. Beside him Judy stirs, a soft, disoriented sound of her own joining their infant’s disgruntled ones as she peels her face up from the pillow.

“What time is it?” Her voice cracks in her half-awake state, and Don gently pushes her arm down when she begins to lift the blanket, readying to get up.

“Hey, no,” he whispers. “You sleep. I’ll take this one.”

Judy gives in immediately.

After weeks of these middle-of-the-night wake-ups, her usual determination has been replaced by exhaustion, and she collapses back into the pillows with a grateful sigh of “thank you...”

Don hums his acknowledgment, dusting a kiss and a soft I love you to her temple before tucking the covers tighter around her shoulders and sliding out from under them himself as Lina’s wails swell.

He hurries the few steps it takes to reach her crib, and in the light from the false constellation dangling overhead, he can see that she’s kicked off her blanket, her little hands and bootied feet flailing as she produces sounds far louder than lungs so small have any right too.

Judy often jokes that she gets her loud mouth from him, and in these moments of shocking volume, he can never decide if he wants to take that as a compliment or not…

As impressed as he is, though, he really wants to let Judy get some more rest.

“Alright, kiddo.” He leans into the crib, carefully positioning one hand under his daughter’s back and sliding the other behind her head to support her neck the way Judy taught him. “You’re okay. Daddy’s got you,” he murmurs as he picks her up, still so small, weighing almost nothing. He’s held wrenches that were heavier.

Lina’s cries sputter out for a moment as she nuzzles her face into his shirt like she’s searching for something. They return with full force when she doesn’t find it.

Don cradles her up to his shoulder and strokes her back, swaying in a gentle, calming rhythm.

“What’s the problem, hm?”

He performs a hesitant smell-check that tells him she doesn’t need a change yet, so...It must be feeding time?

“I hope you got Mom’s brains,” he mutters into a kiss on her chubby, cry-reddened cheek. “You gotta learn to talk stat. Dad’s pretty good at deduction, but words will be a lot easier.”

A breathy chuckle drifts from the cocoon of blankets on the bed and Don looks over, just able to make out Judy’s face in the light of the simulated stars orbiting across her.

Don shakes his head, giving her a small smile. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I will,” comes her contented reply as she sinks deeper into the bedding, soft eyes still on him. “I love you,” she calls, quiet against the noise of their child.

If Lina was calm, he’d crawl back beneath the covers with her and hold them both—their own little colony of three.

But she isn’t calm. She’s cranky, and needs feeding, and he just volunteered for the job.

“I love you too.”

Gently bouncing Lina in his arms as her shrill screams continue, Don grabs a blanket from the crib and slings it over his free shoulder. He makes a quick stop at their bedside to give Judy a kiss, then heads out to the kitchen.

Not wanting to disturb his unhappy infant even more, he flips the lights to their lowest setting before retrieving one of the bottles Judy left in the fridge. As it heats in the microwave, he keeps up his soothing routine of gentle bounces and soft whispers into her softer hair.

Once the bottle is warmed, he settles on the couch, and Lina’s cries subside to short, sporadic whimpers. Don smiles as she makes tiny fists in the fabric of his t-shirt, and starts to rub her little nose into his chest again.

“Sorry, kid,” he chuckles. “Nothin’ there but pure muscle.”

He kisses the top of her head, careful of the spot that Judy told him would still be soft for the first few months before coaxing her back to replace his shirt with the bottle. Lina latches onto it like she hasn’t had a single morsel to eat in her entire short life, and she falls silent, save a few quiet sniffles and coos.

As Don watches her eat her fill, she watches him in return; her big, brown eyes, so much like Judy’s, so much like his, staring up at him.

It’s strange to recognize parts of himself in someone else.

Raised in that cold, Catholic orphanage, he hadn’t known his parents. Didn’t know if he had siblings. Had never met anyone he was related to. His whole life, it was just Don West; alone in a world that never seemed to want him.

Then he met the Robinsons. He met Judy. And he finally learned what family was. What it felt like to love, and, more importantly, what it felt like to be loved in return. To have people who cared, and who showed up when you needed them. He’d never had that growing up. But Lina?

Lina will have it all.

Her little hands come up against his on the bottle, and even as her impossibly small fingers close around his much bigger one, he knows that he’s the one wrapped around hers.

“Don’t worry, Lina,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You won’t be alone. I’ve got you. Us Robinson-Wests? We stick together.”

[handsome-edvard]

Well, I did finally look into my WIP folders and the Don Judy fic I started in freaking 2022 was sitting there waiting for me like 👁️👄👁️ ma’am why would you leave me here for so long.

So here’s chapter one UNEDITED and ROUGH but finally freeeee (idk if I’ll finish this fic tbh).

~~~

Love Came With All That It Brings

The sky looks different where they’ve stopped for a break, a soft iridescent blue, fading into a gradient of lavender and pink which makes the alien moons more prominent where they seem to hang. To Don, they look as though they’ll tear through the atmosphere at any moment and fall on their heads. It wouldn’t be the craziest thing to happen today, a thought which birthes a sardonic smile on his face.

The sound of footsteps approaching tear his attention away from the unsettlingly beautiful sky. Judy sidles up to him but she does not meet his gaze.

“How’s he holding up?” Don asks, a part of him still reeling from Evan’s accident earlier.

If Judy is also shaken, her face betrays nothing. “He’s stable,” she answers. “I didn’t want to scare him but I don’t think he’ll walk again.” She draws a shaky breath and it rattles past her lips. “I really thought I could save him.”

“You did,” Don says. “He wouldn’t be alive right now if it wasn’t for you. Hey—” Finally, Judy’s eyes are his, and Don can see that this whole thing is a lot for her. Sure, she kept her cool with someone’s life on the line, like a real doctor, but the pressure must have been immense. Evan is her third patient, ever. “You did great, Dr. Robinson.”

The title seems to have the intended effect and Don sees a small, grateful smile settle on her lips. Victor Dhar may not see her as a doctor yet, but after today, Don would rather be with Judy in the event of a medical emergency. He can even get past her ‘anger issues’, though to her credit, she placed his nose cleanly back into place. A precise fix for a precise break.

“We should get him back,” Judy says. “I can treat him further and his brother will want to know what happened.”

Don agrees and inclines his head for Judy to follow him back to the Chariot. Evan is asleep for most of the ride back, yet Judy hardly leaves his side, diligently checking his vitals every so often. When bumps on the road jostle the patient awake, Don hears Judy speak softly to Evan, comforting him by distracting him from the pain and the heaviness of his fate.

It seems five degrees warmer out once they reach camp. Don helps transport Evan to a supply tent that officially becomes their new medic bay. He clears out a few pieces of heavy equipment to give Judy more space to work. Aiko is there to help setup the medical supplies and once there isn’t much left for him to do, Don figures it’s best if he keeps out of the way. Yet he finds himself lingering hesitantly at the entrance of the tent. It feels like he should stay but that is foolish, as he can’t actually help with any of this stuff.

“Don?” Judy calls, breaking his idleness. “We need to tell Evan’s brother and I need to find my mom.”

The look she gives him is clear enough. It’s partly why he hasn’t left the tent yet. Smith is out there still and Don isn’t quite confident Judy should be dealing with the dangerous fraudster with everything that’s happened to Evan. Another part of him wants to deal with Smith himself.

“I’ll handle it,” Don says. “Comm me if anything.”

Judy acknowledges him with a nod and Don departs. He finds Evan’s brother after practically going in circles all around camp, but of Maureen and Smith, there is no sign. By the time hunger prompts him to give up, it’s dark out. Most people have retreated to tents, vehicles, or the odd Jupiter. Don forages for rations and heads back to the medic bay. Something tells him the doctor hasn’t left her patient. He finds Judy almost exactly where he left her.

“Didn’t find your mom and there’s no sign of Smith either,” Don declares to make himself known. “I think your folks might be on a little excursion of their own. We’re down a Chariot.”

“Alright. Evan’s doing okay,” Judy replies, her eyes glued on the vitals. “I told his brother I’ll need to keep him here a few more days, until he fully stabilizes.”

“Did you tell him about the…?”

Judy turns to look at Don. She nods somewhat sadly. “I told Evan too. He said he can still surf with prosthetics.”

Don huffs somewhat mirthlessly. “Well think fast,” he says, and tosses Judy the food ration. “Have that before you end up being your own patient.”

“Thanks.” Judy walks past Don, sitting on the crates just outside the tent. The way her head turns slightly toward him is an open invitation, so he takes the spot beside her with an exaggerated groan. “You know, you saved Evan too today. Thank you for doing that.”

Don tears into the food ration and takes a bite of the sandwich which is mostly synthetic food. The moment Judy refers to is not lost on him. In fact, this whole day and the one before have been rollercoasters. It did not take him long to accept he has more in common with the Robinson than perhaps either one of them could see.

“I know I said some things about your smuggling,” Judy goes on after a minute, and Don partly wishes she hadn’t continued with that. “I still disapprove of it and of your… deal, but… I also think you’re a good man.”

He can’t help the laugh that surfaces. It’s not forced but he can’t explain it either. There is nothing funny here but it still flows, before ending abruptly. “You don’t know anything abou me, Judy.”

“Maybe,” she answers. “But I know no one else would have moved that tanker if you hadn’t. I also know you’re a big cry baby.”

Don turns to meet her eye. She is smiling, he can see it, and a part him thinks that even though she disapproves of what he stands for, they can still be friends. So he smiles too. She knows a lot more about him than most people in this large camp of survivors, which is just as well, seeing as it wouldn’t do for so many people to be able to get him to throw away a perfectly reasonable business deal, lose fuel, yet save a life.

Somehow, only Judy can do that and he’s not quite sure what to make of this realization he most certainly does not wish to have.

“That mean we’re friends again?” Don says.

“I guess we can skip to that part.”

Her teasing smiles forces him to break eye contact and happily finish his food. His chest feels warm and it’s nice. He tells himself it’s because he hasn’t actually got any friends, though John Robinson may be a contender.

“Well, if you want the real Don West saga,” he nearly bellows, “I suppose I could spare a few hours to indulge you. It all begins with the nuns at my primary school…”

When he looks, Judy is smiling, and that makes Don proud of himself.

Chapter 2 and 3

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Seven

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Seven!! Sorry it's taken a while, I've been busy with life and went away with some friends, but it's finally here! It's a long one too, so hoping it makes up for the wait. Also, I write music but fuckkk is it hard trying to actually rap, so this is just a forewarning to everyone seeing as there's a scene in this part that involves exactly that! Hope you enjoy it anyway:) Thank you for all the love on this series!

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy

Masterlist

“What’s your favourite chocolate?” I wondered around the Twizzler I’d gone ahead and stolen from the bag he’d gotten at the 7-Eleven. We’d been driving for a little while now, just under a half hour if I had to guess, and between us we had already succumbed to three short-lived encounters with brain freeze, all down to the Slurpee we continued to keep sharing. 

“Like brand?” Marshall questioned me, face wrinkling in confusion as he made another left hand turn, fingers loosening around the steering wheel when it righted itself.

“No,” I shook my head in answer, chewing on the red stick before I held out its end to Em when he tipped his chin in an asking gesture, “I don't know. Like, type?”

He had to think about it for a second, jaw working against the chewy sweet whilst his eyes continued to trail the length of road ahead. “Fuck, I don’ know. Like a Hershey’s maybe?”

I pulled a face at the reply, “Boring. Figured you might say M&M’s or something. Bring a little irony to the table, you know?”

Marshall’s head tilted sideways to level me with a snide look before he stole the next Twizzler right from out of my hand, “Hilarious.” He deadpanned as he took a big bite, “Come on then, Judge Judy. Tell me yours.”

Even whilst wrinkling my nose at his reference to the Tv Judge, I was quick with my retort, “Easy. Can’t go wrong with a Flake or a KitKat.”

“Heard of that first one.” Marshall mentioned, face dropping its previous snark as he pondered on my answer, “Ain’t ever tried it though.”

My eyes widened as I simultaneously turned to face him, ignoring the way my knee knocked against the centre console in my haste. “Oh, you’ve got to! It’s honest to God like Heaven melting in your mouth.”

With an unconvinced brow, Marshall just blew out a breath and shook his head at me. “But a KitKat?” He added after a second passed, “I don’t know. I mean, a chunky I could prolly get behind.”

My upper lip curled, “A chunky, really? What are you, twelve?”

Marshall returned the quip with a stupid look and then stole the rest of the Twizzler pack as a form of retaliation.

I rolled my eyes and it wasn’t long before he waved the topic away, claiming it was stupid anyway because Oreos were supposedly where it was at. An opinion which was strong enough steered us onto a whole new debate: biscuits vs cookies. 

I was still fighting for my life by the time Em eventually pulled the car off to the side, rolling up onto a curb outside a strip of buildings that appeared to get a whole lot of use. “All I’m saying is that a cookie is a kind of biscuit, right? So what the fuck sense does it make to claim that they’re all cookies?”

We’d since come to a slow stop, so confused I pivoted in my seat to look around us with a slight frown, catching sight of a bar on the very corner, a stretch of offices sat on the opposing side, and a huge block building that had long been dubbed ‘Saint Andrew’s’.

“This some sort of convent?” I wondered out loud whilst Marshall simply switched off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. When I glanced over at him again I found him already wearing an amused smirk, one which seemed to brighten at my words, though he just shook his head at my question. It was then that he chose to jump out. “Marsh?”

I was left with the low sound of his chuckle just as the door clicked shut behind him, leaving me in sudden silence whilst I watched the man round the front of the car. Blinking, I could only move to follow him, undoing my belt and finishing the last of the Slurpee before my door was opening all on its own. I raised a brow at Em’s gentlemanly act when I climbed out to join him on the pavement, but kept quiet about it as he shut the door behind me and locked up.

“Thanks.” I breathed out before peering around us once more, taking in the noisy street and the rowdy crowd that was gathered inside the bar a couple car lengths away. “Will you tell me where we are now though?”

“And spoil all the fun?” Marshall smirked, eyes glistening now as he backed away from the curb to start up the set of stairs leading into the big block building that had caught my eye a minute earlier. 

My face flattened, “You’re the only one having fun here.”

The grin he flashed me was cheeky and only lasted that of a split second before he was gesturing me to follow him up, tucking his hands away in his pockets when we finally reached the top step and came to a stop in front of a pair of heavy wooden doors that gave off such a retro feel. 

Staying quiet, Marshall was quick to push through them, as though he’d done it a thousand times before, slipping inside and holding the bottom plank open with just a foot so that I could join him. I wrapped my arms around myself slightly as the door stilted shut behind us, the sound echoing out. 

As I walked a little further inside, my gaze caught on the building’s lofty interior, a total contrast from both its outer disguise and what I’d first expected. It was a large lobby of sorts; four long tables were stationed in the very centre, a short stretch away from a snazzy looking bar detailed with ebony wood and warm lighting in the back, and adjacent to a set of stairs which led upwards.

I glanced back over at Em, who appeared to be watching me rather than taking in the room. I felt myself flush lightly under his gaze but quick to cover it up as I took another glance around, noting a different set of double doors sat on the other side of the room and a couple of sofas dotted around by the surrounding walls. I swallowed lightly before turning back to him, “Bit early to be drinking, no?”

It was a joke, a silly one seeing as he’d been sober for years, but one which seemed to loosen the atmosphere around us further as his mouth quirked upwards slightly and he moved to walk once more, nodding his head at me to follow. 

Follow I did, eyes catching on all sorts of details the building had to offer as he led me across the room and through the mentioned pair of doors, turning away from what appeared to be the ‘main event’ (a rather large hall decked out with a stage and a plethora of seating rows) so that he could instead jog down a hall full of metal stairs. 

The heavy door at the very bottom opened with a long squeak and although there had been people dotting the building here and there as we’d walked through, I took quick note of the small group which resided down here. There were only about six of them, from what I could first tell, the majority messing about with wires and other equipment by a platform stage whilst another two stood behind what looked to be a bar. 

My attention was ultimately caught though by the two men bickering back and forth by the side of the stage, just in front of a DJ booth.

“Fuck you, man. I’ma do what I like!” The first one spat, nose wrinkled as he swiped a microphone right from out of the other man’s hand. He was a few inches shorter than the latter but didn’t seem to mind, nor care, about that fact as he practically tiptoed to better get in the guy’s face. 

“Awh Jesus man, Soup! Why you always clownin’ around?” The second blew out, tossing the rest of the mic’s lead his way as he swatted at the air, “I mean, come on. You always tryna switch shit up when shit don’ need to be switched up!”

Soup? If that really was his name, didn’t seem to much care about his mate’s lack of excitement for whatever plans he had brewing as he fumbled with the jack lead and jumped back at him to defend himself. “I ain’t clownin’, dawg! Just trust me here on this one, this is gone bring a whole load’a new people in, D! I just know they gone be linin’ up out the door to get their hands on this stuff.”

“We ain’t sellin’ fuckin’ club merch, Soup. How many times I gotta say it?” ‘D’ retorted and shook his head as he turned his back on the other man to grab the rest of the equipment they’d obviously been unboxing.

“Yo, when have I ever been wrong ‘bout shit like this?” Soup followed up, unrelenting as he dragged the mic along with him, creating enough of a trip hazard that I worried when a young guy in a yellow cap swerved on past him. But it appeared that everyone here was far too used to the duo’s antics because the man in the cap skipped over the lead with an ease that looked utterly effortless, making it to the bar in one piece whilst the other two continued on none the wiser.

“How ‘bout every damn time?” D huffed with a look thrown over his shoulder, before he then sighed, “We stick to what we know, man. Stop houndin’ me with all this other crap.”

It was just as Soup opened his mouth to argue his case yet again that Marshall laughed from beside me, making me jump ever so as the noise rang out across the room. Heads spun in our direction then, most eyes widening at the sight of the infamous newcomer but mine were caught on the matching set of grins that Em was immediately met with when kicked off the wall he’d been leaning against, content with having watched the argument play out.

“Mickey, my man!” D hollered, dropping what he held back into the box to meet Marshall halfway. 

“Thought I told you to stop callin’ me that.” But even with the snippy retort, Em was smiling as the two of them clapped hands, sharing a short embrace before Soup wormed his way between them. 

D shook his head as he took a large step back, although the man was still grinning, eyes captured on the two friends, “Shit, man. It’s good to see you.”

Marshall just smiled before he turned to the shorter man and clapped him on the back, “How you doin’, Soup?” He let his hood fall back as he stood before the small group around us, seeming to become more alive in their presence, “Still mouthin’ off, I see.”

My own lips quirked up at that, watching the three of them from the sidelines. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that they had history, all of them sharing an easy comradery that I hadn’t much seen yet with Em since I’d first arrived, and already I was hooked on watching it all play out.

“I ain’t mouthin’ off, man. This idea’s the real deal!” Soup countered and he was smiling so wide that I could see the silver tooth that was embedded where his front left should have been over from where I stood. “Genius even! Could see it settin’ us up ‘til The Jam finally passes.”

I had no idea what the fuck ‘The Jam’ was but I had a calculating thought as to what the underground level of Saint Andrew’s supposedly was now. It was a little surreal once I’d latched onto the idea, in truth, never having figured I’d be standing in The Shelter of all places. The building was notorious on its own, having hosted a plethora of artists up in the main hall, people like Nirvana, R.E.M., The Beastie Boys, Iggy Pop, Blur, and Bob Dylan. And so I kicked myself for not having realised it sooner, the venue truly was one of the best in the city! Then again, I’d only ever really heard it iconically dubbed as The Shelter.

Marshall appeared to look back over at me then as he shook his head at Soup’s justification, grin softening ever so. I smiled back at him, gaze flickering over the expanse of his face, taking in what I could.

“Yo, come on over.” He said, voice travelling over to me without him even having to yell. The two men seemed to recognise my presence then as they turned to get a good glance at just who Em seemed to be speaking to. So, accompanied by only a little trepidation, I walked over to meet them, D eyes calculating whilst Soup’s lips pursed in an act of surprise, his eyes raking over me.

“Woo, Slim. And they claim you gotta type!” Soup all but whistled at my approach, earning a raised brow from me and a hearty backhand from his promoter friend. 

Marshall just rolled his eyes, seemingly used to it, arm stretching out to welcome me into the odd triangle they’d created, an action I allowed even as his hand came to rest on the small of my back. “Ignore Soup, he ain’t never been near a lady.” 

Blowing out an unexpected chuckle, I pressed my lips together before they eventually settled into akin to a smirk, eyes flitting over the two men. “Most would beg to differ with those pretty eyes.” I quipped, ignoring the man’s previous remark but filing it away for later.

Soup blinked at the obvious complement, seemingly dazed for a split second before he bounced back with a kilowatt grin. He looked between Marshall and D smugly, batting his eyelashes. “Y’all see?” He said, before he turned to me, “I been tellin’ ‘em, baby. But do they listen? No.”

D rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics, apparently done with him as he shoved Soup hard enough for the man to stumble slightly to the side, ignoring the scowl he got in turn whilst Marshall just snorted, the hand on my back unmoving. “You really gone dropped yourself in it now.” D chuckled to him, peering over at me with a sweet smile that warmed his face whilst Soup tried to right himself, “What, Mickey didn’t warn you?”

“Mickey?” I wondered, eyes flitting between the two. I grinned when Em groaned lowly, tossing his head back a tad.

D laughed at my ask, the sound bright in the shrouded shadows of which lower levels of the building offered, “As a kid he had these giant fuckin’ ears, his momma called him it the first time she picked him up from school and well, it sorta stuck.”

“Actually?” I looked back over at Marshall with an almost adoring face, peering past the brim of his cap to get a better look at his ears, “Oh my god, I can actually see it now!”

I joined D in his snickering after, muffling my amusement slightly when Em’s eyes narrowed a tad in a playful way, his hand dropping from my lower back to pinch my furthest hip. I raised my own in a silent surrender, but his settled there. 

“Yeah, yeah. Eat it up.” The man scoffed whilst he shook his head at us, pointing an accusing finger over at D, who’d since settled a hand on his stomach to keep from bowling over, “You know I’ma have to get you back for that one.”

D merely waved the warning away, just as Soup slid on over to pipe up once more, “Ayo, you gone introduce us to yo girl then, Slim, or you just waitin’ on me to work my magic?” He asked around a smug smile, shucking the collar of his heavy jacket before he flashed me a flirty look, “Homegirl’s got a real pretty voice, too. Where you from, baby?”

Never had I ever had someone be so blatant, I was honestly unsure if he was just messing around in hopes to annoy Em or if he was actually trying his luck with me. A little wide eyed, I looked back at Marshall stumped. The man’s face had flattened a tad at Soup’s remarks but his smirk was still ever present.

“Lay off it, man.” D sighed before Marshall could say anything at all, cheek dimpling as he shook his head once more at the shorter man. 

“I’m just sayin’!” Soup proclaimed before he spun back around to face Em, “A girl that fine is gone get snatched up real quick, man.”

“Keep talkin’ and you might not keep your tongue.” Marshall responded calmly enough, though it shocked me enough to have me keeping quiet as the man stared back at Soup unblinkingly, lifting an eyebrow at him whilst his hand continued to reside at my hip.

“Oo and the claws have come out!” D cut in with a whoop, obviously humoured by it all, but his response was enough to have Marshall rolling his eyes and for another small smirk to toy at the corner of his lips.

Soup grinned as well, hands held up in a placating gesture, “You know I mean no harm, Slim.”

“Yeah, you ain’t never mean it.” Marshall shot back around a low chuckle, clucking his tongue when Soup immediately tried to argue his case, rapidly mentioning a house fire, some sort of robbery that had gone wrong and then an accidental shooting far too quickly for me to really ask anymore about it, because Em chose then to speak over him, ultimately cutting him off. “You done?”

With a huff, Soup let up. “I was just sayin’.”

D snorted, “When the hell are you not just sayin’, my man."

Marshall shook his head at the duo and wet his lower lip before he finally moved to introduce us, although it was also in that moment that his hand finally slipped away. The lack of it had me blinking. 

“Boys, this is Elia. El, this here is Soup and Drew.” Drew shot me a smile alongside a slight tilt of his chin, whilst Soup just wiggled his brow. Marshall continued on with a swift jab to the latter’s abdomen, ignoring the slight squark given, “Known these guys since middle school.”

I tried to add up the age in my head, forever baffled by the difference in education here to that back home. Em must have realised it too, because his next smile was wry and knowing.

“‘Bout ten, if I had to guess.” He mentioned just to settle the matter for me, before he looked back at D and Soup to explain, “Girl’s from London, they do shit different over there.”

I rolled my eyes, though my smile gave away to the fact that he’d amused me with his explanation. Drew nodded in understanding whilst Soup– well, he was Soup, “Oh shit! I thought all them talked real classy.”

My brow rose all on its own, “This your way of saying I’m not classy?”

His eyes grew huge as he realised his mistake, stuttering to correct himself and stumbling ever so to be sure of it, “Nah, no! What? I jus’– I meant it like–” He spluttered before he finally landed on, “I said you had a real pretty voice!”

Snorting, I let myself smile which appeared to ease the man’s evident worry over having offended me and had the remaining two snickering between themselves. He shot the pair of them a scathing look and elbowed Drew, who in return just laughed that little bit harder.

“Shut it.”

I almost felt bad. Peering back over at Soup, I eventually spoke, “You’re all good. I was just teasing.”

“Teasin’.” Soup seemed to linger on the word, twirling it over his tongue and around his mouth as he muttered the word over again, lower lip turning itself out in thought. “Dope.”

Marshall shook his head with a huff before his eyes eventually landed on me once more, I widened my own in jest, but the wordless moment was cut short by D. “Aye, you ain’t the same Elia that sung Sinnerman are you?”

My head jolted back ever so slightly in surprise. Sinnerman had been an early days cover, one from when I’d been busking in pubs way back when and of the few that had been filmed on a shaky camcorder and uploaded to the internet by some random patron. I hadn’t thought of the video in well over a decade, but remembered it had managed to gather a large enough viewing at some point that it had dragged more people into the pub to see me.

Fishmouthing slightly, I nodded just the once. “Yeah. God, yeah. Wow, you saw that?”

Marshall’s brow had since furrowed, watching the conversation play out between us just as Drew’s face brightened considerably. “Hell yeah I saw that! That shit was cold, girl. Remembered hearin’ your voice and thinkin’ 'she’s gone make it someday.” He told me, making me flush a tad at the praise, “‘n I was right.” He continued on, nudging his chin over in my direction with a thoughtful smile, “Knew I recognised you from somewhere. Saw one of your shows when I was last in LA, couple years back now though.”

I actually giggled at that, fingers jumping up to cover my mouth whilst I shook my head slightly, “That’s insane.”

“Hold up,” Soup interrupted, a bemused look marring his face, “So you famous too? You ‘member how I just said you was fine, yeah?”

“Soup, man.” Marshall warned around a put upon sigh.

“I’m jus–”

“Just sayin’. Yeah, we know.” Drew finished for him, smirking as he rolled his brown eyes.

Chuckling, I went a little easy on the former, “I’ll make sure to remember.”

Soup perked up at that, tossing the other two a prideful look, whilst Em’s gaze turned Heavenwards. 

It was then that Drew turned to pick up the equipment he’d since dropped, the three of us following him as he spoke, “So what you doin’ down in these parts anyway? Figured you’d be workin’ or some shit ‘cause last we saw you was way back in December.” He threw a couple of cables Soup’s way, huffing out a soft chuckle when the man fumbled to catch them, earning himself a glare he didn’t respond to. “Made a fuckton of sales then though. Got me thinkin’ maybe you should show your face ‘round here more often. We all know those magazines don’t want it no more.”

Marshall flipped him off but came to a stand beside him, reaching inside the box to help out. “Still as unfunny as ever, D.” He replied, handing me a couple of packs to hold onto whilst he grabbed a few more, “Was showin’ Ms. London over there the neighbourhood, so I thought I’d stop in to see how you two knuckleheads were doin’ without me.”

“Hey we survived this long!” Soup exclaimed to him around a laugh, struggling with a mic stand he’d since dragged up onto the stage.

“Don’t I know it.” Drew murmured in a funny sort of self-suffering way that made me grin, “You take her to Cow’s head?”

The question had Marshall rolling his eyes as the man sorted through the packs he’d gathered, me aiding with the process whilst I listened. “Shithole’s gone be there longer than I ever will be, figured I’d have time.”

D blew out a chuckle, “Ain’t that the truth.”

“Red.” I mentioned, handing back the pack Marshall had attempted to give me, fingers brushing over the back of his as he dipped his chin in a show of acknowledgement. “What’s the Cow’s head anyway?”

“Old ice-cream stand on Mack. Used to use it during drivebys or to just deal. You remember Jimmy? He still works that corner.” Drew explained, aiming that last bit over at Em, which ended up making the man chuckle around a small tutting sound. D continued on though, for my supposed benefit, “But mostly it was just a place people got caught hookin’ up behind.”

Feeling bold, I was quick to quip, “And I paint you as that type of girl, do I, D?”

Widening my stare up at the man when his head darted backwards with a shuttered expression, Marshall could only snicker beside me. “Awh, come on, be nice.” He said, though his smile was jeering, “I tell you, Drew’s a real feminist.”

Sharing a smile with him, I was quick to look back at the man in question, who in turn merely tossed another pack at Em, who narrowly avoided it hitting him upside the head. “Asshole.” Drew sniped, “A guy dates one vegan chick and a brother never lets him live it down.”

“It weren’t ‘cause she didn’t like meat, man!” Soup added his two cents in, smile smug as he propped himself up on the mic stand, “It was ‘cause she didn’t - like - meat!”

Marshall’s loud laugh had me looking up, instantly invested in watching the way his eyes closed with the action and how his cheeks then appled. He caught me watching him when he lowered his head and rolled his eyes fondly at his friend, figuring I’d only been staring because I hadn’t caught onto Soup’s joke, “Next person she dated was this vampy chick who worked at Chilly's.”

My mouth formed into an ‘o’ shape before I was tittering away too, much to Drew’s obvious displeasure, the man waved the three of us away with a lazy hand before he carried on hooking up a couple mics.

It continued on that way for a short while, me listening to the trios odd stories and funny tales from their youth whilst Drew and Soup grew comfortable enough to ask me a little more about myself. Though both of them were wholly invested in the story of how Marshall and I met, Soup latching onto it before I could think about where the explanation might lead.

“Come on then, woman.” The man was quick to start, jerking his head at me in a sudden rush of enthusiasm as he jumped past the DJ booth, “Let’s see what you’re made of.”

My forehead pinched in confusion as I pushed myself up from where I’d been crouching down by an amp. It was an older model and the fuse at the back really needed to be resoldered, but it would work for a while longer. I looked over at the man and his newfound excitement, brows furrowing further, “What?”

Soup just waved me over though to where he was now centred midstage. “You heard me, get yo ass up here!”

I could only look to Em then and when he didn’t offer me anything other than an amused shrug, cheek twitching, I turned to Drew.

The tall man simply raised his hands before he shrugged too, smiling ever so sweetly. “Need to mic check anyway,” He mentioned, jutting his chin over to where Soup continued to stand, “I propose a battle.”

“Hell yeah, man!” Soup hollered loudly, already moving to grab a set of mics from the front panel, sending an audible squeak through the room that had most of its occupants wincing. 

“Not happening.” I quickly shot down, shaking my head as I moved away from the amp– and therefore the stage. 

“Why, you scared?” Soup prodded mockingly, earning a low ‘ooh’ from both Marshall and Drew. 

“Terrified.” Came my deadened retort, before I chewed at the inside of my cheek, gaze flitting back and forth between Soup and the duo perched by the side of the deck. “There’s no way I’m doing it.” I added, furthering my previous answer.

“Don’t have to be long. A minute max.” Drew assured me, already moving to work the amp that the mics were connected to. My eyes widened at the move, flicking back to Em in one final plea.

“Don’t look at me.” The older man laughed, his blue eyes shining. “I already done did my time here.”

Way to rub it in, I thought to myself before looking towards the stage with a pinched expression. 

One final glance between the three men and I knew I couldn’t say no, not without a fight at the very least, so I let go of the heavy breath I was holding and took a big step up onto the stage’s panelling, holding out a hand to Soup for the remaining microphone. “Don’t say I never did nothing.” I heard myself say, earning a round of chuckles just as D finished setting up and Soup started to stretch theatrically. “I hate you all.”

“El-i-a.” Marshall started up and immediately my head snapped over to find him stood by the front of the stage, hands circling his mouth. “El-i-a!” He chanted again right as a steady beat came through the overhead speakers. I felt my stomach flip and was quick to shoot the man a scathing glare, not that Em minded it, continuing to grin up at me. Smug as could be.

It was that, I supposed, which had me forcing back the bile that was now building, enough to try and shake the nerves away too. I could do it, I breathed in deeply, it was just a little fun. Nothing unlike what Danny and I used to do as kids, making breakfast whilst mum was dead asleep in the next room or off getting high someplace else.

“You ready, Limey?” Soup snarked, but it only proved to further stoke that fire that had started. 

“You first.” 

Soup dipped his head before he started bouncing it to the rhythm, torso soon following it. I tensed as I waited for his first line, sole focus on the man stood across from me and wondering how the fuck people did this in front of such a huge crowd. All I could do was pray that I didn’t embarrass myself too much.

“See, this here is a little white girl, 

Who’s momma told her she could have the whole wide-world,

But just ‘cause she got Slim wrapped ‘round her fin-ger,

Don’t mean that my boy’s ever gonna ring her,

He’s a wraith, yeah, which means he never ling-ers,

Have her sleepin’ in his bed ‘fore he finds another singer.

And that’s not on me clownin’ girl, I’ve seen it,

He’ll wrap and tap, and then he’ll jus’ go ‘n leave it,

You cute and all but you ain’t nothin’ spec-ial,

We all know white girls ain’t on a brother’s lev-el,

So while you thinkin’ you out here makin’ it big,

Jus’ remember who’s runnin’ this motherfuckin’ gig.”

Pursing my lips to keep from grinning too broadly– an act to keep up the facade that this was a very real battle and that his words had actually stung me– I then booed the performance whilst the rest of the room applauded, a few laughs and cheers echoing out around us. “Alright, I see. That’s how it’s gonna be.”

Soup shrugged cooly, though his smile was wide and teasing. “I went easy on you, girl.”

I hummed disbelievingly, then looked over my shoulder at Drew, who nodded in understanding, moving to continue the beat. I sucked in a small breath and attempted to feel the rhythm, the way it pulsed beneath my feet and how it seemed to jump between my ribs. 

It was a split second decision I made to glance over at Marshall in the next moment which came and although he stood surly, arms crossed over his chest whilst he waited for me to start, his eyes were watching, anticipating. Between us we’d yet to work on any real music and so I figured this could be my shot to show him what I was really made of.

I inhaled.

“Man, you know for a rapper I think you’re missing one restriction,

The same type they tell kids is in the terms ‘n conditions, 

When they try and ride the big boy rides at the theme park, 

Only to find out that they went and fucking missed the mark.

I mean, I guess you’re kinda cute for a– short guy,

But kings are made, baby, so I won’t spin you a lie,

‘Bout how it’s okay to only miss a couple inches,

‘Cause it's one thing height wise, but your dick looks like the Grinches.

And I know I should probably stop before I hurt your ego,

But with a name like Soup that ships since sailed, amigo,

Like I can’t help but wonder who’d your mother hate more?

You, or that motherfucking grocery store.”

A loud chorus of applause went up as soon as the beat dropped, leaving me looking back at Soup’s slack jaw in the stooped light. It was only when Drew whooped right by my ear that I realised he’d jumped past the booth to drag both Soup and I into his hold, shaking our shoulders hard enough to rattle the pair of us. 

I let the mic slip slightly in my hold, arm dropping to my side as I casted a slow glance out at the audience, finding that a few more people had slipped into the room since we’d started the stupid battle. My chest tightened a little at the realisation but it was easy to let go of the anxiety when Drew was all but bouncing beside me.

“Damn, girl! That was cold, honestly thought Soup would have you there.” D grinned, looking down at me whilst Soup managed to release himself from the taller man’s hold. “You did anything like this before?” He asked and I had to shake my head.

“Hang on. You just butchered and served me up on a plate, ‘n now you gone deny not ever battlin’ before?” Soup spluttered, eyes wide as dinner plates, enough though to match his growing grin, “Woman, you don’t expect me to really believe you.”

Laughing, I tried to rally, but it was then that another body joined the masses, sliding in beside me. It was their appearance that had Drew’s arm loosening its hold on me. 

“She ain’t lyin’. I’ve heard her spit a little before, I won’t deny it, but that was some next level shit.” Marshall commented, absorbing all of my attention. “You went in hard.” He laughed incredulously, eyes roaming over me as though he was taking me in again in a whole other way. I felt my cheeks heat but couldn't decide whether or not it was down to the sudden attention we’d garnered or just him. 

“Hard?” Drew cut in, “Girl killed him!”

Soup shoved him as payback but it wasn’t enough to really trip the man. “I said I went easy!”

D hummed sarcastically, dragging it out long enough to earn himself another hearty shove before he then chuckled, “Face it, Soup. You got yo short ass handed to you.”

“Sorry, man.” Marshall stepped in before it could escalate and it was then he draped his arm over my shoulders, drawing me in enough to have me leaning against his side. “D ain’t wrong. Best hope no one breathes a word, otherwise you gone be fighting for your life in the next battle.”

I rolled my eyes at the sudden dramatics, and again when Soup’s expression troubled slightly, I shook my head. “I’m gonna say it again, I hate all of you.”

The words earned me a few laughs and the feel of Em’s chin coming to rest atop my head.

–

The drive back was made up of a dull buzzing tension, most of which emanated from me, seeing as I was still riding out the waves of anxiety I’d experienced throughout the battle and then after. I’d gotten a few nods of approval once I’d stepped off the stage under Em’s arm, Soup still echoing his previous sentiment of having gone easy on the new girl, and then a couple people's praises when Marshall had finally decided to head on out, claiming that we had places to be. 

So he’d said his goodbyes to his longtime friends, with both Soup and Drew managing to worm their way into my followers list on Twitter and having put their numbers in my phone. They’d claimed it was so I always knew that I had a place to come visit if I ever found myself back in Detroit and so I echoed the notion, saying that they could have tickets to any show they liked and a tour of London if they ever made the trip. Something which had seemed to please Marshall, seeing as his smile stuck all the way back up to the car. 

“I still can’t believe I did that.” I breathed once we were a little way away, The Shelter less than a dot behind us in the rearview mirror. 

Marshall blew out a small chuckle, “Why not?”

Shrugging, I found that I didn’t really have an obvious answer to his question. “I don’t know, just not my thing, you know? Like I never pictured myself doing anything like that.”

He made a short hum in retort, “I get that. Still, it was a sight to see.” He snickered after, mouth lifting into what I’d label a sarky smile, “Doubt Soup will live it down for a while.”

I winced before eventually laughing too, thinking back on the entire experience. “They’re good guys, real nice. It’s been a while since I really had fun like that.”

Marshall’s head turned to look over at me, eyes lingering on mine. “Me too.”

The smile that took over my face truly was unavoidable and so I looked towards the passenger window in hopes to shield him from it. “You do that often then?” I asked once a half a dozen shop fronts had passed us by, “Drag people down there in hopes they’ll destroy what’s left of Soup’s reputation.” I added teasingly when all he’d done was gift me a look of vague confusion. 

The skin between his brows slackened in understanding before he then shook his head, “Nah, reckon you’re the first.”

I blinked slowly at that revelation. “But you said–”

Marshall glanced over at me but was quick to hone his focus back on the road. “Know what I said. Also mentioned that it never worked out, remember?”

I did, remember that is. And immediately thought back to the earlier conversation we’d shared on the car ride over to his old home and how the people he’d let in never seemed to get why all this mattered so much. “Was that what Soup was on about then? When he claimed people thought you had a type.”

Em had to think back on that one and was quiet for a second or two before he worked his jaw. I wondered if he was reminded of the fact that once again he’d failed to mention that I wasn't in fact his girl. I didn’t ask about it.

“Nah, I guess that’s down to them havin’ met a couple of the women I’ve dated.” Marshall evaded slightly, confusing me enough to prod.

“What do you mean?”

He was silent for a long moment, but I allowed him it, figuring that whether he answered or not would be down to him. I wasn’t the type to force shit out of a person. 

“After Kim,” He started slowly, already assuming that I knew most of it, which wasn’t incorrect, if you listened to the guy’s music then you probably knew more than needed. “Lot of the girls I was seeing were fling type shit. Superficial, you know? A couple models, other famous people wantin’ to hop on the wagon. Tried to date a few women who weren’t immersed in that lifestyle after rehab and my divorce, but it didn’t work out the way I’d hoped.”

I chewed on my inner cheek, pondering over the string of women who had been welcomed into Marshall’s life. Still stuck on the thought that Soup reckoned I was different to them just from looking at me. ‘Cause see, I knew I was probably overthinking this but I wasn’t horrible looking, had to be at least a little attractive to sell albums with my face on, but I was far from being that of a model. That much I knew. In truth, I didn’t even know why I was so hung up on the thought, me and Em were just friends, that was all.

“Still, I figured that maybe Kim just fucked all that up for me. Hard to trust, to let people in. ‘Sposed it was easier just havin’ people leave before they could fuck me up any further.” Marshall explained, none the wiser to my thoughts as he drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel, “Drew and Soup, they’ve been ‘round for a long while, before Dre, ‘fore I ever even thought too hard about rappin’. They saw me through it all. I guess when you came over they kind of figured that shit had to be different, I ain’t never brought no one ‘round here to them, let alone a girl they’d never met.”

I ran my tongue over my lower lip as I listened, it wasn’t a complete answer to my question— why Soup had figured Marshall had a type and me being far from it— but it was him opening up and I wasn’t about to spit in his face and get all prickly over it.

“Should I feel a sense of privilege then?” I found myself poking fun at him instead, an effort to get away from the handful of ideas that had started to plague my mind. “‘Cause I feel like I should.”

Em laughed, the gesture light, easy. It felt like the visit to Saint Andrew’s had done us both some good. “Fuckin’ right. Shelter alone is somethin’ I don’t visit all that often. D and Soup are just an added nuisance, I guess.”

“Shut up.” I chuckled in return, shaking my head at his words, knowing just how much bullshit they held after having witnessed the relationship the three of them shared. “You love ‘em.”

With a grunt, Marshall then shrugged around a quiet smirk. “Come on, today’s been all about me, I’m sick of it. Don’t tell me you ain’t got no mad stories about a couple crappy exes.”

It was an invite as well as a dip into a pool of unasked questions, a topic where Em didn’t seem too keen on overstepping. But he was right, he’d given me a lot today and that meant something.

“I don’t know what to say really.” I answered him with a subtle shrug, “Never really had an ex.”

Marshall almost came to a full stop with the way his foot stuttered over the brake. The action would have earned us a lot of loud beeps, maybe even a small collision if we hadn’t been the only ones driving down this particular side road.

“Shit, Marshall! What the fuck?” I exclaimed in one fluid breath, releasing my hold on the car door I’d gone and grabbed onto in my haste to stop my body from propelling forward into the dash. I fixed him with a wide eyed stare, “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Why’d I do that? Why’d you say that?” He countered, as if he was making any sense at all. 

“Say what!” I asked him, voice shrill and still a decibel too high after the sudden scare, but Marshall appeared mostly unphased by it, having started driving again despite everything. 

He scoffed, “That someone as pretty as you don’t have no exes.” 

I paused, noting that the way my heart stuttered was very similar to the way the car had, suddenly and then all at once. But although I was surprised by the compliment, I forced myself to relax a tad, ignoring how my pulse jumped rapidly in my throat– down to the scare or his words I wouldn’t ever know. 

“I don’t.” I told him point blank, hoping that the heat I felt in my face was just that and not me blushing. “I mean, I've had little flings and the odd date, but nothing like— I don’t know, nothing too real or long lasting.” Describing that fact was more than a little embarrassing, I wouldn’t lie, it always made me feel less than in a strange way. 

“There ain’t no way.” Marshall continued on, unknowingly driving that particular wedge in further I supposed. “There’s gotta be somebody.”

I sighed. “No. But if you want a story, the last person I was seeing was this singer, we worked together on my last album, flirted, fucked and then went on a couple dates. He stayed with me in London for a while but ended up sleeping with one of my close friends on my sofa, so, you know.”

I let go of the rest of breath I’d been holding onto then, shoulders slumping a little with it, before I suddenly remembered the next part to that particular tale. 

“Oh! And he also decided to dedicate the whole B side of his next album to it. Can you believe that? The B side, Marshall. I mean fair enough, write about an experience and what fucking not, but the B side? That’s just kicking a person whilst they’re already down, no?” I added, shaking my head in hopes to get rid of the memory, but no such luck. “He was the one who did that film too, um— I can’t for the life of me remember the name of it, but when they won that Academy award last year he mentioned me as the ‘one who got away’ and then thanked me for being the reason he was able to channel so much of his ability into the character.”

I actually had to laugh at the reminder, having been utterly fuming when the whole thing had gone down. But I guessed that enough time had passed since then that I only questioned the very decision I’d made to have let that arsehole and his tiny dick anywhere near me whenever his name was mentioned. 

“Shit’s messed up.” Em blew out, eyes alert and flitting back and forth between me and the road.

Snorting in reply to that, I couldn’t help but shoot him a wry grin. “No shit. But yeah, I don’t know. I’ve never really let anyone get too close, I ‘spose. Just easier to keep people at arm's length than give them the chance to hurt me.”

“Damn,” Marshall said, “talk about daddy issues.”

Surprised by his words, a laugh bubbled up out of me, “Like you’re one to talk.”

Em’s lips pursed in an attempt to dim his amusement to that, turning the wheel with a single motion and letting it drag back over his palm when we turned onto the next street. “Still. It’s hard to believe.”

I gave a soft chuckle in reply, letting my head loll against the headrest so that I could bat my lashes in his direction, “Why, ‘cause I’m so pretty?” I teased him, recalling his earlier statement.

Marshall’s head shake was slight but visible, as was the tiny curve his mouth made.

I reached out to poke his shoulder, smirking now. “Come on, say it again.”

He swatted my hand away before I could continue on with my fun, “Anyone ever tell you you’re also annoyin’ as fuck?”

“Yes.” I replied easily enough, “No one’s ever called me pretty though.”

“Liar.”

I laughed, the bright sound filling up the car. “Yeah, but at least I’m pretty too.” He went to open his mouth after I said that but I beat him to the jump, “Can’t take it back now you’ve already said it!”

Tutting, Marshall had to shake his head again, eyes flitting over to my wide smile, trailing the length of it. “Such a shithead.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“What are you, two?”

“Maybe.” I shot back, pointing over at him. “What’s that make you then, if I’m two and you think I’m pretty?”

Marshall caught my finger with his free hand in retaliation and clung to it as he resettled his arm back in his lap, “Fuckin’ weirdo.”

“Least I’m not a creep.”

“Asshole.” 

“Dickhead.”

“Bitch.” He quipped, eyes gleaming as they darted over to meet mine.

I shook my head in hopes to hide my growing grin, but it was then that I instantly perked up, gaze catching on the large allotment sat up ahead. “Oh, let’s go there!”

“What, to Trader Joe's?” Marshall voiced his confusion at the sudden switch in topic, though his expression was much softer than I had expected in the face of my excitement when I peered back around to look over at him.

“Yeah, can we?” I pushed, an idea now blossoming. “I wanna get some ingredients, bake something nice before Rosie gets home.”

Lifting a single brow, Marshall’s eyes flickered rapidly between my own for a split second. He was quiet before he eventually flipped his indicator to switch lanes, “You gone bake me a cake just ‘cause I called you pretty?”

A full blown grin broke out on my face at that and it was too hard to hide this one from Marshall, seeing as I’d been looking right at him. “No, ‘cause you’re gonna help me.”

[caarpenters]

POISON

amber freeman x reader based on this request.

summary: the only one that can have you is amber.

rating: mature so minors DNI. beneath the cut there is unhealthy relationship dynamics, possessive behavior, and jealousy-fueled murder.

word count: 1,188 words

© caarpenters 2023

Wes Hicks vexed Amber Freeman more than she cared to admit. Not because of his borderline concerning level of paranoia. Not because of his deep-seated motherly issues. Not because of his horridly box-dyed blonde hair. Not even because of his deep attachment to her friend, Tara Carpenter. No, her vexation toward Wes could be traced back to one thing and one thing only: you, Y/N L/N. As of late, Wes had grown close to you, too close. He trailed after you like a dog with a bone, happily taking any scrap of attention you threw his way. For a time, his antics had been annoying, nothing more. Eventually, though, you began to inadvertently entertain those antics, to entertain him under the belief that he treated you the same way he did the rest of your friend group. You seemingly did not notice that the only friend he walked to and from class was you. You did not notice how whenever he stole a hug, he lingered just a moment too long, soaking in your warmth and taking in your all too sweet smell through his nostrils. Amber noticed, though. She noticed it all, and it sparked an anger within her that she had not known herself capable of. 

Because you were hers. You had always been hers. Her friend, her steadying force, her person. You were the first person she had met when her family moved to Woodsboro all those years ago. She had been out playing in her yard, messing around with her collection of Chucky dolls, when you had ridden up on your rickety old bike and offered her the brightest smile she had ever seen, a smile that had rivaled the sun in intensity. You had asked to play with her Tiffany doll, the bride of Chucky, and that alone had been enough for her to know in her bones that you two were well-suited. Most children your age had frowned upon the dolls, deeming them creepy, but not you. You adored them, treating them with as much care as Barbie dolls or action figures were treated. 

From that day, you and Amber had been thick as thieves, being one half of the other, which was why she could not tolerate Wes trying to weasel his way between the two of you. How would she handle him? Well, a more sane person would have likely come off with a lie, would have spread gossip meant to sully his name and ruin your perception of him.  You were so good, though, so forgiving, so mere gossip would not be enough. Perhaps that was why when Richie Kirsch proposed a dark, blood-bathed plan to recreate the 1990s Woodsboro killings, she agreed without hesitation or regret. If pushed for her motive, she would without a doubt chalk it up to her love of the Stab franchise. She knew it is not that simple, though, for when Richie proposed his list of victims, she wasted no time in adding Wes to the list. C'mon, Richie. It'll add shock value. He's the son of a legacy character, after all, she had pointed out, even though Judy Hicks could hardly be considered as such. She had, in Amber's opinion, contributed little, the same way that her son had. Richie had thought her important, though, for he had agreed and added him to the list of victims.

That was why now, Amber waited outside of the Hicks residence, donning the typical Ghostface costume. The black material of the robe felt hot against her skin, itchy, but the knife felt right in her hand, its hold so comfortable that it felt as though it was made for her. From the shadows of the porch, she waited, anticipation strumming wildly through her veins. Richie was on the phone now, no doubt, luring Judy back to the house. She could put up a fight, could try her best to preserve her son’s life force, but her efforts would be for naught; her son had sealed his own fate when he had tried to take you, to steal you from Amber. Did he really think that she would sit idly by and let it happen? No, it was not in her nature to do so. To take such a profound loss sitting down was weak, and she was not weak, not when it came to you.

When Judy pulled into the driveway and ran up to the front door, her face a storm of fear, Amber jumped out, emerging from the shadows like a harbinger of death. And oh, what a perfect harbinger she was, for she mercilessly stabbed Judy, delivering upon her one devastating slash after the other. It was a wonder that she had ever become the sheriff of Woodsboro, because she went down easy, so easy. 

Her son went down even easier.

After slaying Judy, Amber left her lying there in a river of her own blood to be found. That was exactly what Wes did, for as if sensing something was amiss, he pulled open the front door of the house and was met by a most horrid sight: the lifeless, cut-up body of the woman who had given him life, who had cared for him when no one else had. Unbidden, a grief-stricken cry tore its way out of his throat as he threw the door closed, trying to prevent the killer from getting in. Little did he know that Amber was already in the house, watching him, waiting. He leant against the doorframe, wheezing from a mixture of pain and fear. “Oh, God. Oh, God,” became a litany, the only words he seemed capable of . . . until Amber came out, her knife poised, aiming for his neck. In an act of pure desperation, his hands flew out, catching hold of the knife before it could make contact with his neck. “Fuck you,” he gasped as they struggled, fighting for control of the knife. He was distressed, willing to do whatever it took to survive, but she – she was incensed, rage incarnate. Months of pent-up vexation and jealousy came out, giving her the strength to win, to gain back control. This saw the knife plunging into his neck, immediately stealing away his breath and drawing out his scarlet blood. “No, fuck you,” she snapped, her tones cold as ice. The voice, it was her own, not that of Ghostface. “Now, die like the pussy you are.”

And he did . . . It was oh so satisfying to Amber.

Wes’ death seemed to hit you hard, to cause great pain to overcome you, which was why Amber stayed loyally by your side, doing everything she could to ensure that you were okay, that her actions did not break you. Little did she know that you took notice whenever she snuck away, believing herself to be discreet. You knew what she had done, but could not bring yourself to care all that much. Wes held no true place in your heart, after all, not the way that she did. And, perhaps, deep down, you knew that his murder, unlike the others, had been personal . . .

i HC amber as a child's play stan. idk why, it just makes sense, so here's a bonus fact: one year, for halloween, y/n and amber wear matching chucky and tiffany costumes. you can decide who wears which.

ALSO i know richie killed wes, but i changed it for the sake of this one-shot.

sign-off template.

[arachnophobic-larantula]

ten characters ❧ ten fandoms ❧ ten tags

tagged by @thegreatdivide, @dani-the-goblin and @luvwich. Thank you so much 😊

Judy Alvarez - Cyperpunk 2077

2. Ellie Williams - The Last of Us

3. Vi - Arcane

4. Max Caulfield - Life is Strange

5. Don Karnage - Tale Spin

6. Dana Scully - The X-Files

7. Leliana - Dragon Age: Origins

8. Oberyn Martell - Game of Thrones

9. Mr. Davis (Henry Fonda) - 12 Angry Men

10. Éowyn - The Lord of the Rings

Thank you for tagging me <3

[aliypop]

If You're Looking For Trouble : Part 1

Word Count: 1,406

Writers Note: This is a limited series requested by @sissylittlefeather

Warning: Language

Pairing: POC OC x Elvis

Plot: It's 1960 and the battle of the mobs is not a crossfire you want to mess with, with Elvis as the Don of the Memphis Mafia finds himself head-deep in insanity over Cecelia Shanel Valmos Don of the Valmos Cartel

Chapters: 1, 2 (coming soon)

Taglist

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

@richardslady121

@thegettingbyp2

@presleyenterprise

@dkayfixates

@rjmartin11

@thetaoofzoe

@your-nanas-house

@zayurir

@60svintage

@sillybookmarks

@leapresley

@everythingelvispresley

@dreamondina94

@elvismylove04

@pocketfulofpresley

Memphis Tennessee 1960

"You seen the boss lately?" Judy asked as Red shrugged. They were covering for Elvis on an assignment at his Cadilac dealership, Little Tupelo. It was his pride and joy out of all of his covers, "He's still in his meeting." Sonny mentioned as they sighed. It wasn't like Elvis to be late. Besides, he promised Sam Philips he'd be here by 3:30 pm, and it was already 3:28, "Meeting with who?" Judy asked, 

"He didn't say..." 

Beale Street was booming with flashing lights and music, the glitz and glam of sin, a small taste of Vegas, if one could say, but it wasn't enough that Elvis was sitting across from the daughter of one of the most prestigious cartels. "Cecelia..." her entourage of women surrounded her as she glared at him, hazel eyes piercing his soul, "I'm sorry, who's Cecelia... " She turned to look at Rosa and Carlotta as they looked around, 

"Ms. Valmos, you can't buy this dance hall..."

"That's better... Tell me, why can't I..." She leaned in as she laughed, "Cause it was 'sposed to be mine!" rage in his eyes as she grinned, 

"What're you gonna do about it, Presley..." 

"I'm gonna fix you, that's what?" He said behind gritted teeth as she laughed, 

"Fix me...I should have my tailors fix that horrid suit. Who's dressin you, you're underboss Tom." She teased as he banged his fist on the table,

 "Damnit Cecelia! You should know better than to compete with me..." 

"You should know better than to make me a rival..." Looking at her watch as she looked back at him,

 "Why, you little!" a switchblade flew past him, almost grazing his ear. Cecelia was fearless, but Elvis would seek his revenge soon enough. 

"Are you done having a fit, Mr. Presley?"

"I'll show you a fit,"

"Like the one Mr. Philips will have if you don't make it to your little boy toy car lot?"

"How'd you..."

"Please, nothing goes by me except bullets, Mr. Presley..." She smirked as he walked behind her. 

 "Cheryl and Midge will see you out." She looked at him, her dress pressed against her body as her heels clicked on the floor. Elvis wasn't scared, though. He knew what he had to do. He had to make the first move. Elvis had to show her that the Memphis Mafia wasn't scared of a group of women parading intimidation tactics.  

"So, any luck..." Jerry asked as Elvis glared, sitting in his limo as he was silent. He hadn't lost, but when it came to her, he always did. She was always ahead of him, and he needed to know how. "She bought the God damn dance hall!" He growled as Jerry shook his head,

 "Me, Charlie, and Joe will pay our respects to the Paradise Lounge tonight..."

"What's the plan..."

"Watch it go up in flames, I guess." Jerry shrugged, laughing, the game was afoot, and Elvis would win.

Nashville Tennessee 1960

"Are we ready..." Cecelia asked, sitting at her desk as Midge inhaled a sharp breath. Something was usually wrong when she did that. "About tonight, boss..." Midge looked up at her as she turned the radio on, 

"This just in. The beloved cabaret Dance Hall Paradise Lounge found on fire." Cecelia growled, her teeth grinding against each other in anger as she screamed, "FUCKING PRESLEY!" She slammed her hand against the wall as she looked up at Midge,

 "Load my car up..."

"Cece..."

"Fucking load it!" She was in a state of rage, revenge, even. She wanted to get even. And she wanted to do it now, "Are you okay, mi vida?" Carlotta asked as Cecelia laughed, "I'm fine... It's just The Memphis Mob beat me at my own game. I won't have to lie about how the place caught fire." She shrugged as she fixed her dress and makeup,

 "So what are you gonna do..."Rosa asked,

Memphis Tennessee 1960

 A smokey, gas-like smell was lingering down the streets of Memphis as The Memphis Electric Company truck was a blaze along with its building. She knew Elvis loved this place, for it was his first shot. Working secretly with the mob, but he had to learn when you get too close to the sun, you get burned, "That ought to teach him..." Cecelia smirked as she left. But there was one thing that Cecelia didn't know was that news traveled fast in Memphis, and it traveled to Graceland Mansion first, from the maids to the cooks to the boys. 

"E..."

"I know Jerry, I know..." Elvis didn't even look up from his book and his sandwich. He didn't seem phased about it, but he also didn't seem to be at ease either,

 "So..."

"I'll send her a gift..." Jerry laughed. Elvis always had a way with gifts. Sometimes, it was rings to pretty women. and the heads of someone close to his enemies. He couldn't wait to hear about what exactly it was.

"M-Mr Officer... No, no, too cheesy..." Cecelia sighed, fixing her makeup in her compact to look distressed, "Officer!" She practiced again as she took a deep breath. She saw an officer walk towards her as she mustered fake tears, "Officer, come quick! I don't know what happened! But I do hope no one is hurt..." Cecelia said as he looked at her, "It's good people like you who keep this city safe."

"Doing my job, Ms." He nodded as she walked off, 

The next day, Cecelia was at her new Dance Hall as painters and movers came in to gussy it up, 

"Package, Ms. Valmos..." Cheryl said,

"Let me see it, please?" She asked as she saw the box. It was a bit long and light. It wasn't a body. She listened in, and it wasn't a bomb. Tied on top was a pink bow and a rose. As she sat down, she pulled it apart and opened it, Revealing a white Mink fur Coat and a note that read,

I know what you did

EP

"Well..."

"Mr. Mississippi thinks he so tough, huh, with his blue eyes and that smile...We'll see how big he barks." Her laugh was as sinister as her smile, but she meant every word. Elvis knew this would eat her up alive. Besides, she and Gifts didn't get along, not since she and Anthony Rodgers had a mishap rumored that he'd been dumped in the river missing his heart.

"Do you think she got the gift?" Joe asked Elvis, who had finished eating his sandwich, "We'll see..." He said, waiting for her to call. Something about her always intrigued him. Maybe it was because they were born a day apart, Or her body in her dresses and how she carried herself, being she was the only cartel that was run entirely by women, or perhaps it was how she wasn't scared of him but could make him tremble in his loafers, 

"So, how's things going with that girl?"

"Which girl? You know there's several." He laughed, slicking his hair again as Jerry rolled his eyes, 

"One day, you'll settle down."

"Eh, maybe..." He shrugged, "Say you guys up for a movie?" Elvis asked. When they arrived at the theater, there were bullet holes and a coat by the door, 

"I see that's not her taste..."He laughed as Judy and Lamar looked at him in confusion. Jerry only sighed as he knew this would drive him mad, 

"Let me guess..."

"Mhmm..."

"Got it."  

Later that night, Cecelia drove to Memphis in a shiny pink Cadillac with custom seats and a note attached. She knew who sent it. Cecelia knew how to get rid of it. She didn't want his gifts. Cecelia was over those days when people bought her affection with gifts. Cecelia knew now that the world was harsh and the only way to love was to watch it burn. 

When Elvis walked onto the lot, he noticed the car burnt up with "No Thanks..." Written on the hood, "Damn it, Jerry, she's driving me insane!" Elvis growled, walking into his office as Jerry followed,

 "E, what's this about..."

"Jerry, I-I have to get her somehow." Elvis sighed,

"Maybe don't set her shit on fire..." Elvis glared at him, 

"I'll get her a ring..." He smirked, "She can't refuse jewelry."

"Whys that." He took a deep breath as Elvis opened his mouth,

"Don't you know anything, diamonds are a girl's best friend."

[snailsandpuppy-dogtails]

Too Many Beds

A Robinwest ficklit clean, on ao3

In the darkness, she walked down the hall. Too many options, none feeling quite right.

She passed the door, the bed, of the people who raised her. When she was little, before John kept making excuses to be away, before Penny and Will, she used to curl up between them, mom's slim arm and dad's heavy one linking across her to the body of the other, creating a securing X, hugs, love radiating around her in their bed. Though she was an adult, she was grown, this trip had forced them all to grow, but it also grew them closer together, and so where before she had been dying to break free, to experience things for herself...and get away... now that it was over, she had to admit there was something to be said for being together. Some times, like tonight, you just need the comfort of another body next to yours. To know you're not alone, to have the ebbing rhythm of another guide your own. Feel the love radiating.

She walked on, peeking in on Penny, crystal blue and indigo tinting the room, tinting the mess of copper flames on her pillow. Copper hair that used to fill her mouth and tickle her nose, teddybear-like Penny snoring softly in her arms, Judy feeling every bit the protector role of an older sister on those nights a bad dream would send Penny slipping into her bed.

But tonight Penny was peaceful.

She closed the door, walking further down the hall, quiet voices floating thin through the house. There were three doors, three beds, left. Judy stopped just outside the next, loose fist halting mid-knock. On the other side Will talked endlessly with Robot. Restless conversation, endless solutions, breaking against the wood, fractured bits reminding her of when Will would wake her up with starving curiosity, and she'd gently lull him back to sleep with satiating possibilities.

This bed was too busy, too full already.

She comes to the open door she'd first left, the full bed empty, dark and icy in it's solitude. Tonight she needed the company of another, her body needing the calming cues drawn out from one pressed to hers...and quietly she pads away from it, to one last open door.

There's not a sound and the walls are bathed in darkness, Space seeping in. If it weren't for the ribbon of moonlight casting jet strands silver, she wouldn't know if the bed was vacant or not.

It's not.

Hand on the white frame, she watches Don from outside, unmoving. Should she? Would she be welcome? This was a terrible idea-

But then, who understood better? Who had reached out to her and reached in to her and who could she always, implicitly, depend on that wasn't family? That she could depend on immediately? That was there for her... immediately.

But this was different. There was no danger, no threat. There was only the threat of a sleepless night until her body remembered what it was to slow, and deepen, and drift. She wouldn't wake him for that. And so she drifts, body turning back down the hall.

"Doc?"

His room was too far down for it to have been an accident, Judy intentionally seeking him out, but changing her mind.

She stops, head turning back, but hearing more than seeing him move.

"Jude" He's quiet. Don West, quiet. His words like a curled finger brushing down her arm.

Her eyes close and her breath stills, biting her lip, all of it reversing as she turns to him.

"Don. I couldn't sleep."

"Commere." She makes out his figure, Don on his side, head propped in hand, the other lifting the covers, welcoming her.

"The ice?" "No," Judy shakes her head, sliding in beside him, Don rolling onto his back, "just...can't sleep." His arm, his hand, is warm and snug around her, pulling her close, securing her, and her head, without thinking, finds a place on his chest.

If she were thinking about it, she'd think about how natural, how easy this is, being with Don. But she isn't really thinking about anything because her breath, like her pulse, has started to match his, slowing, deepening, and his fingers are strumming a soothing lullaby, and his chest is rumbling shallow to her ear as he talks about his day and she feels safe, protected in his hold, and there's love radiating warm around them. And all she thinks is; so many beds to choose from, but this one felt just right.

[tygerbug]

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 - James Gunn and company stick the landing with a brilliant conclusion to Marvel's only coherent stand-alone trilogy of films. It genuinely feels strange that these are Marvel movies, since from the start they've largely felt like their own thing. Sure, to get caught up on this one you'll have to watch two Avengers movies, a Thor movie and a holiday special, and maybe even the silly animated "What If?" But otherwise, this series is mostly untouched by what's happened to The Avengers, and feels like it could have been a standalone series, like the FOX X-Men films, and the Sony Spider-Man films.

The cameo roles in this series are clearly done as a favor to James Gunn rather than to Marvel. Linda Cardellini has a voice role here, despite already having a role in Marvel films elsewhere, as do Judy Greer and Tara Strong (replacing the absent Miley Cyrus). And it's not hard to imagine some earlier Marvel film having some other role for the sort of actors Gunn casts in small roles, like Nathan Fillion, Ving Rhames, Michelle Yeoh, Peter Serafinowicz, Maria Bakalova, Djimon Hounsou, John C. Reilly, Glenn Close, Benicio Del Toro, Lee Pace, Alexis Denisof, Kevin Bacon, Seth Green, Sylvester Stallone, Don Johnson, and so on. He has a tendency to cast older star actors like Kurt Russell who could have populated a hypothetical 90s MCU, or even David Hasselhoff who actually did.

The Guardians films, outside of their Avengers crossovers, feel like a universe unto themselves. The tone is darker, and more violent, with a focus on comedy. At exactly one point in the film, Chris Pratt's Peter Quill, AKA Starlord, says fuck. At other points in the film, actors say "screw" when they clearly mean "fuck." Lloyd Kaufman turns up in these things. Most of the film is about torturing a raccoon, and it's full of strange creatures and body horror that sometimes seems antithetical to selling Happy Meal toys. The villain, Chukwudi Iwuji, as The High Evolutionary, is nastier than MCU villains tend to be, and there's no attempt to humanize him. Which is, to be clear, great. We like a real villain.

The visual style of the film is also distinctive. No muddy greys and browns here. There's bright colors and high contrast, and lots of interesting design. It is certainly in the running for the best-looking Marvel movie, and avoids the samey visual look of some other Marvel productions.

The cast, as ever, is stacked with actors who could have carried a film like this on their own. It's easy to take this cast for granted, but these are all stars, and the movie knows it. Zoe Saldana, who has almost casually starred in a large percentage of the most succesful movies ever made. Bradley Cooper, as the voice of Rocket, a CGI character who might be the real star here. Pom Klementieff and Dave Bautista, delightful as Mantis and Drax. Karen Gillan as Nebula, bringing a steely terminator's edge to a role far away from what she did in Doctor Who. Vin Diesel as Groot, even. Elizabeth Debicki returning as Ayesha.

Oh, and Chris Pratt as Peter Quill AKA Starlord. When we meet him here, he's been drinking away his sorrows over the loss of Gamora. Pratt is a controversial figure these days, due to his apparent right-wing beliefs, and at first there seems to be something wrong with Peter int his film. His trademark charm is entirely absent, at first, and he's not as funny a character in this as he's been previously. But that charm comes back, as Pratt tries to remind Gamora and the audience why we liked Peter Quill in the first place. He's not as big an asshole as he's been at times, and is almost likeable as he finds a certain peace in himself by the film's end.

Will Poulter turns up as Adam Warlock, a cosmic Marvel hero introduced as a secondary villain here, and manages to do something amusing with the character. As with the Nova Corps in the first film, this is a pretty significant Marvel character that James Gunn is using, apparently for his own purposes rather than due to any connection to the MCU. As with the Howard the Duck cameos, it feels like Gunn is doing his own thing. At one point Starlord appeared in the MCU Avengers animated shows without the personality that Chris Pratt gave him, and it felt very strange. Starlord is a very different character here than he was as a Space Cop in the comics, as are Yondu, Mantis, Groot, and so on.

Indeed these movies have very little to do with the Guardians of the Galaxy comics as they initially launched. The films are instead based, loosely, on the Guardians team that launched in the comics in 2008. That team included Adam Warlock and Phylla-Vell, a version of Captain Marvel who technically appears here as a child. But James Gunn has successfully put his own spin on these characters. Rocket Raccoon would probably have been the most recognizable character for old-timers, along with Adam Warlock, but he was never really a headliner until now. Nor was Groot, who was once an old Jack Kirby monster in the comics, and might as well be a different character now entirely.

Mantis, powerful as a C-tier Avenger in the comics, is a less powerful but more memorable character in these. She and Dave Bautista's Drax are socially awkward in different ways, and always doing something funny or interesting. This film also finds the dignity in these characters and sees a certain tragedy in the way they underestimate one another, suggesting that even though they're a memorable onscreen team, they need to move apart in order to grow as people. These films really care about these characters in a way which isn't cliched, telegraphed or predictable.

There's a sense of history here, that the journey these characters have gone on has meant something, over the course of three films, at least four other Marvel appearances and a holiday special. A photo of Stan Lee turns up, as does the actual Michael Rooker. It does have one thing in common with the Avengers films - an assurance that this is still the Guardians of the Galaxy even with a different lineup of characters, and that some of these characters will return.

It won't be the same, though, will it? It's hard to imagine another blockbuster film letting actors like Pom Klementieff be as memorably eccentric as they are here. This trilogy genuinely feels different and special. It had its own cast of characters, some of whom we saw very little of. (Sylvester Stallone makes only brief appearances, but a long history is implied every time.) It left me wanting more, but I'm glad that we got three solid movies with this cast, and that James Gunn - who was briefly fired due to some trolls on Twitter - got to return and do it right.