#iron stool stairs

[literathemes]

Hot Tub - Transitional Pool Inspiration for a massive transitional backyard renovation that includes a unique-shaped hot tub

[syoddeye]

cw: butcher!simon, darkfic, dead animals, no butchery depicted, temperature torture, implied limb removal. definitely not for everyone. 490 words.

you find yourself hanging between pig carcasses in cold storage. swaying. chain creaking.

the chill sinks beneath your skin, numbing you in long, creeping waves. your fingers twitch, but grow stiffer by the minute. slowly ceding control to the ice. the threat of unconsciousness stalks the edges of your vision and mind, willing you to close your straining eyes and frosted lashes. find peace in oblivion. but the thought of what happens after keeps you stubborn.

of course, there are consequences for staying awake, too.

fifteen minutes, simon said. lettin' you off easy, he said. an eternity spent sailing the cocytus would be more comforting.

you're on the descent, about to pass orpheus on the stairs, when the door opens. the rush of warm air stings and bites, stirring your reflexes and making you thrash weakly. he chuckles as he takes you off the hooks, casting aside your shackles. he throws you over his shoulder, knocking the air from your lungs in scrapes, and pats your flank.

he lays you out on the table, a wet and sticky puddle smears and squishes beneath your back. he looms, his brutish form blocking out the sterile light above. something thick and heavy falls over you, slightly damp and smelling of iron, but you make no move to shed it. you can't, anyway. it's warm and solid but malleable like worn leather.

simon takes shears to your clothes. cutting them from your body and replacing your cover as he goes. his hand slips to your throat and wrists every few minutes. the thick pads of his fingers wrapped in elastic press down firm, monitoring.

he tuts about the kitchen. the longer you lay there, the more feeling you regain. the clearer your mind becomes. you realize your blanket isn't a blanket at all, but his stained apron. still sopping from a day's work.

he strokes your cheek when he catches you staring, petrified.

"feelin' warmer?"

you barely nod, the muscles and tendons of your neck uncooperative. he cups your chin, dragging it down and up, ignoring your whimper of pain.

"yeah? good. let's 'ave a chat."

simon drags a stool along the linoleum to sit behind your head, forcing you to roll your eyes back as far as they'll go. he pets your temples and forehead, closely examining you.

"tried to run. not smart, pet," he leans close, breath fanning over your face. "makes it the third time. remember what i told ya?"

an object clatters onto the table beside you, heavy enough to rattle a small shockwave through your back. his eyes don't stray from your face, but his head tilts expectantly. swallowing thickly, you crane your neck, nerves screaming in protest.

you see the handle first. then the long, steel body. the teeth. a hand saw longer than your arm, one you've seen him take to the pigs in the freezer.

"it's a shame. liked your legs."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

No Sugar Tonight 5

Character: Brock Rumlow

Summary: A regular customer becomes more than just a familiar face.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The townhouse is big compared to your apartment, though most places are. Brock keeps his hand tight on yours as he brings you up the front steps. He punches a code into the lock, the numbers blocked out by his large figure. You teeter on your feet as he pushes down the lever and shoves the door inward.  

He points you in ahead of him and adjusts the straps of the duffel bag hooked over his shoulder. Those are your things, parsed down to a single bag. He follows you in as your eyes skimp the walls. Despite your muddled fear, you can’t help but stand in awe of the antique panel and brick. 

“You seem like the old-style type,” he plops the bag down on the wooden bench against the wall, “shoes.” 

You look down and nod. You kneel to unlace your work sneakers and put them on the rack. He sits beside the duffel as he works at loosening his boots. 

You tear your attention from the tear drop bulbs of the chandelier light above and look at him. Like really look at him. He’s in all black like always. His hair is a similarly dark hue and a shadow of stubble never leaves his square jaw. His shoulders are broad and straight and even sitting, he looks huge. He looks up and narrows his eyes as he catches your gaze. 

“Sir, er, Brock,” you twist your palms together. 

“Yes, baby,” he sits up, his shoulders squaring. The pet name tweaks in your stomach. 

“Erm...” you peer around. “I... I don’t know.” 

“You don’t like it?” He stands and you take a step back. “We can update it.” 

“Um, no, it’s... pretty but... what... what am I doing here?” 

He snorts. It’s as close to laughter as he’s come. 

“Whatever you want, baby.” He nears and reaches for you. You wince as he cradles the back of your head and draws you close. “It’s our home, we make the rules.” 

He bends and kisses your forehead. You gulp as the heavy scent of his cologne strangles you. His fingers curl into your scalp and he hums. He hesitates for just a moment before he pulls back. 

You suck your lip in under your teeth and turn away. You’re buzzing from his proximity. The way he crowds you is unnerving. Everything about him is. 

You sense him watching you as you tiptoe around the bottom of the staircase and stop to stare at the framed painting of a woman in 19th century garb. She seems familiar as she sits on a stool in flowing ivory and pets a lamb, her stomach swollen with child. 

“Like I said, you can change it,” he grits as he comes closer. “Have a look around. Explore. It’s all yours.” 

You flinch and bat your eyes at the picture. This is real. You peek over at the duffle bag as the horror rolls up your spine. You don’t think you’re ever going back to your old life. This man won’t let you. 

You continue down the hallway next to the stairs if only to get space from him and your looming fear. You turn to look into the den. A long sofa and cushy armchairs, bookcases on either side of the vintage fire stove and a rustic rug across the aged wooden floor. You can’t deny that it’s cozy. 

He lurks like a shadow but allows you enough space to make your own way through the place. The kitchen is wrought in walnut and iron. A gas stove, a black fridge, and a dishwasher to boot. The walk-in pantry is stocked to the ceiling. You back out as he leans in the crook of the counter. 

“There’s more upstairs, baby.” 

You take his subtle directive and retrace your path. The dining room on the other side of the stairs gets only a quick glance before you climb to the next floor. Another hallway with several doors. A bathroom with a clawfoot tub and separate shower booth, a linen closet, and office, and the main bedroom. You stop in the last and stare at the four-postered bed. 

You retreat and pass Brock as he stands against the wall, halfway up the stairs. There’s another door but it doesn’t open. You don’t try to get past the lock. You go back to look down at him. 

“It’s nice, er... Brock.” 

“All for you,” he turns and climbs up patiently. 

“I--” your wring your hands, “really?” You look one way then the other, “thanks, but...” 

“You shouldn't chew your lip. It’s already chapped.” He grabs your hands and pulls them apart, “stop picking at your nails.” 

“Sorry, I--” 

“Don’t be. I’ll take care of ya until you take care of yourself,” he brings your hands up between his, grazing his calloused skin over yours. He turns your palms to his and pushes his fingers between yours. His cheek dimples and he guides your hands to his chest. “You’ll be safe here.” 

You nod and stay silent. His warmth seep through his shirt into your hands. It adds to the sheen of sweat speckling over your body. That fiery heat of fear, the nip of the inevitable. You still can’t wrap your head around it all but you know deep down, you’re not going back to your boxy apartment. 

[lincolndjarin]

Bound in Beskar

From the world of Best Kept Secret...

A down on her luck traveler finds employment with a gruff Mandalorian. He's quiet and reserved, she's resourceful and quick witted, and things are heating up in the forge... one can only imagine what happens in this tale of lust and steel.

Some of you may recall our dear princess!reader in bks reading a book in chapter 20, this is that. Vaguely in the style of those campy romance novels that you read in the bathtub with candles and wine.

warnings : armorer!mando, no use of y/n, reader is not described past the fact that she is manhandled and carried by mando, smut, unapologetic porn with a little plot, i use the phrase 'throbbing member' just once i promise it's ironic please believe me guys, spanking, pussy slapping, dom/sub undertones, sir kink, unprotected sex, creampie, praise, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, humiliation, p in v sex, inappropriate use of blacksmithing abilities, ro makes things up about blacksmithing, bondage, use of restraints, briefly mentioned ass play, inappropriate use of a hammer, size kink, sweet rough sex, power imbalance (mando is readers boss, but both parties are consenting), definitely a few things i missed my apologies, barely beta read i was in a rush sorry!!

word count : 3.8k

a/n : this is so bad but also like i love it LMAO like i promise it's supposed to be kind of bad guys you have to believe me lmaoooo. this was really fun to do omfg this is my magnum opus in the worst way possible

You don’t know his name. 

There wasn’t even an interview. You’d come knocking on his door when you saw the sign in town on the news bulletin board. You’d shown up with everything you owned in the canvas bag on your hip as you knocked on the large brass door. The house didn’t look like a shop, it just looked like a house, a large house, when he finally opened the door you could see why. Just beyond his hulking figure you can see his work space, the majority of the building is devoted to just one room, high ceilings and brick walls surround the enormous forge. 

“I saw your flier for a live-in housekeeper, is the position still available?” You’re so sick of sleeping in alley ways and rooftops, you’d do nearly anything for adequate lodging. 

He had examined you, the cold, unfeeling steel of his visor scanning up and down your body until he nodded. 

“You can clean?” The low, controlled voice drips through the modulator making your blood run hot. 

“Yes, and cook.” You hold your hand out to him, he only nods in response as you tell him your name. 

“You start now.” Is all you get as he motions for you to step inside.

So yeah.

You don’t know his name and he never tells you.

So you just call him sir. 

The room is nicer than any you’ve ever had. A little space at the top of the stairs, a soft worn out mattress and a desk with a crooked stool. You take it with a grin, you can’t remember the last time you slept somewhere warm. 

You set your things down as he instructs you to follow him back downstairs. He shows you around, although there isn’t much to see. The main room is large with an open ceiling for the smoke, an ornate forge takes up the center, the fires crackle from within as he leads you to a small kitchen. 

The first thing you note is how barren it is. One skillet hangs from a hook and as you search through the drawers most of them are empty.

“I will give you extra credits this week for supplies.” He sounds almost embarrassed as he ushers you out of the room towards his own. “Once a week I’ll need you to tidy up here and do the laundry, it is of the utmost importance to me that you knock when you do.”

“Of course.” You nod slowly and he puts his hands on his hips. There’s a moment of silence before he turns and returns to his work without another word.  

You are to cook his meals, buy the groceries, clean the house, and stay out of his way. In exchange he provides housing and a salary of two hundred and fifty credits a week along with any change from the grocery money he gives you. 

You almost want to ask how no one else applied to such a generous job offer but the quiet foreboding presence of your employer makes it obvious enough. It wouldn’t surprise you if people feared him, you’re certainly a bit jumpy around him. He’s just so… big. He takes up so much space, stomping around the shop all day as you take care to stay out of his path, cleaning up the messes he leaves behind. 

You stay extremely vigilant, opportunities like this do not often arise for you so you give him no reasons to question your performance. 

You go to the markets, bundled up in your cloak once a week to keep the kitchen stocked. You wake before him to prepare his breakfast, you tidy up the forge before he opens the shop to make it presentable. You cook, you clean, you repeat. When there is no work to be done he dismisses you, telling you to make yourself busy elsewhere and you always do. Taking walks or retreating to your own quarters. 

You do this for quite some time. 

He doesn’t necessarily soften up towards you but he seemingly grows to tolerate you more. 

You try different things, baking, knitting, painting and anything else you can get your hands on but no hobby ever seems to stick so eventually you take to watching him work. Sitting at the top of the stairs, dangling your legs over the railing as he hammers the smoldering metals. He’s an artist really, the quick precision of his strikes with the hammer, bending steel to his will to craft the custom fitted pieces. It makes you wonder why his own armor looks so worn down when he clearly has a gift. Everything but his helmet is worn down, scratched up dark metals that he often tosses aside when he works late into the night. 

After long days of work when the shop is closed he’ll toss aside his chestplate and pauldrons, opting to remain only in his helmet as he rolls up his sleeves revealing the warm tan skin beneath. You always feel as though you can’t breathe right when he does this. His strong, toned arms, littered with burn scars from years of work. 

You can’t deny his appeal. 

Even without the armor he is huge. The wide expanse of his shoulders that smooth down into a narrow waist. You don’t even need to wonder about what’s going on under the helmet because everything else is just so much. Those hands, that neck, his chest, you’re practically drooling when you watch him work late into the night, sitting at the top of the stairs, clutching a steaming mug of caf as you squeeze your thighs together. You spend most nights with your hand between your legs thinking about your employer.   

It isn’t a bad life, it’s repetitive but it’s happy and safe which is more than you’ve ever had before. The Mandalorian treats you well, sometimes he speaks to you outside of orders, sometimes over dinner he asks you how your day was. You even have enough money to start a savings box. 

Nothing changes and you’re fine with that.

Until one night when he’s working late, working on something smaller and detailed. You had started to tidy up around him, already in your pajamas as you padded around the forge in your nightshirt and shorts. You were sweeping when it happened. 

“Kriff-” You slip on a scrap of fabric, you grab onto the ledge of the forge, trying to catch yourself. Your breath catches in your throat as you knock a hammer off of the stone, nearly falling face first into the molten metal.

You don’t even have time to scream as the wind is knocked out of you and you’re sharply yanked backwards away from the heat. 

“Do you have a death wish?” It’s the most emotion you’ve ever heard from him, anger that threatens to spill out of his helmet. “If you fall face first into that you’d be dead in an instant.” He hisses out, hands now shaking your shoulders. 

“I- I’m sorry, it was an accident.” Your face gets hot with shame as the veins in his neck pulse. “Please don’t fire me.” You whisper, fear of losing everything you’ve worked for over one simple mistake. 

He sighs.

“I’m not going to fire you, I’m just going to discipline you.”

“Discipli-” You start to question him but he sits down on the anvil, motioning you forward with two fingers before patting his lap. Your eyes go wide at the implication.

“Tell me to stop and you can go back upstairs, it won’t affect your job." He whispers earnestly.

You don’t want him to stop. 

So you go to sit in his lap but he clicks his tongue under his helmet.

“On your stomach.” His voice is lower than before as you swallow loudly, bending yourself over his knee, hiding your face in your hands. Your ass is on display for him under the short sleep shirt you wear. “How many do you think you need to learn your lesson?” 

“How many what, sir?” 

“How many spanks.”

Oh.

You pray to the Maker that you aren’t soaking through your shorts right now. 

“Umm… fifteen?” You aren’t exactly experienced in the subject but you don’t want to pick a number too low.

“Fifteen? Look at you my little over achiever, you must truly be sorry.” He muses with an amusement you’ve never heard from him. His large palm massages the globes of your ass, you’re so painfully turned on at this point you’re honestly a little worried you’re gonna come the second he starts. “And can you tell me why you’re being punished?” 

“B-because I knocked over your hammer?” You stammer out and you feel a sharp sting as he pinches your ass. 

“No, you sweet thing.” He bunches up your top a bit higher as he simultaneously yanks down your shorts pulling a yelp from you, he definitely knows you’re wet now. “It’s because you weren’t being careful, you weren’t focused on what you were doing and you almost got hurt.”

“No, I was focused I promise-”

“But you weren’t. You were sitting up there watching me, getting yourself all worked up and by the time you got down here you were so horny you got distracted and almost got yourself killed. What would I do without my pretty little housekeeper?” You’re speechless for several reasons. He knows why you watch him? He knows how much it turns you on? 

He called you pretty. 

And his. 

“Tell me why you’re being punished?” He repeats as you clear your throat. 

“Because I wasn’t paying attention.” You mumble. 

“I want the exact answer.” 

You’re so embarrassed you could just die but something about the shame makes your blood run hot as you rub your thighs together rather obviously, earning a chuckle from your companion. 

“Because I was so worked up from watching you and I was distracted, and I almost got hurt.” You whisper, hearing a pleased hum from him. 

“That’s my smart girl. Are you ready?” 

“Yes.”

“Yes…?”

“Yes, sir.” You quickly correct yourself before bracing yourself for the first smack. 

One. 

You’re surprised by the softness of the smack. It’s more like a pat against your rear. 

“Still good?” 

“Yes sir.” 

Two. 

You squeak a bit, this one being significantly harsher than the first, before you’re prepared he’s back on you. 

Three, four, five, six. 

You’re making a sound that’s a mix between a moan and a squeal as his bare palms come in contact with your ass in four consecutive sharp spanks. He rubs his hands over the flesh that you’re certain is already welted and swollen. The next spanks come long before you’re ready. 

Seven, eight, nine, ten. 

Tears sting your eyes as he lays into you as if you’re beskar steel that he can bend to his will.

“Look at that.” He remarks with a sense of accomplishment as you let out a soft whimper. You feel his finger gliding along your thighs and up your seam making you shudder before he holds his glistening digits in front of your face. “Are you enjoying yourself, sweet thing?” You nod with a small hum, praying he’ll just touch you already but you aren’t so lucky as you feel a slap against your pussy (Eleven.) that has you whining, loud and high pitched as you clench around nothing. 

Twelve. 

Another slap to your cunt, you can feel your clit twitching as a groan is punched out of you. 

“Gods, are you gonna come like this?” He sounds terribly amused as your body tenses. 

Thirteen. 

He spreads you wide open, giving your clit a little tap that has you lurching forward in his lap. 

“Come on, you can do it.” The condescending tone only makes you want to please him more, you want it so bad as he ghosts a finger across your dripping hole. 

Fourteen, fifteen. 

On the final slap his hand stays pressed against your mound, applying just enough pressure to throw you over that edge. You’ve never come quite like this, nearly wailing as tears now flow freely as your body turns to putty in his lap. He has melted you down and made you something new. 

He lets you work through it for a while, rubbing your back until you come back to your senses. He lifts you from his lap, your legs wobble and shake as he stands you up.

“I gotcha.” He murmured as he picked you up bridal style, carrying you up the stairs before laying you down in bed. “You did so good, such a good girl for me.” He whispered as you closed your eyes, absolutely exhausted. You felt the blankets pulled up over you before you drifted off. 

You swore you felt something press against your forehead. 

When you wake for the first time since you started working for him, breakfast is already made. A plate of bread and meat sits on your desk along with a glass of water. Your ass is raw but other than that you feel more than fine. You aren’t sure what to expect when you go downstairs but it certainly isn’t the silence you're met with. 

It’s as if nothing happened at all. 

He doesn’t even acknowledge you as you frown, attending to your daily tasks. 

He barely even looks at you. 

You go to bed that night frustrated and upset.

So you come up with a plan to get his attention.

You mess up in every way possible. 

You ‘forget’ to make his breakfast. You leave metal scraps on the floor. And you go to bed early, hoping he’ll come upstairs and punish you for your mistakes but he never does. You ignore your duties for a full week before you finally snap at him while he’s locking up. 

“Do I have to throw myself into the forge again to get your attention?” You finally snap at him. 

“Excuse me?” He turns to face you, holding his tongs in hand. 

“I have been a terrible housekeeper for days and you haven’t so much as scolded me!” You throw your hands up in exasperation as he shakes his head. 

“Is that what this is about? My forge is a mess because I haven’t been giving you enough attention?” He tilts his head to the side and you actually feel a bit guilty, when he puts it like that you seem rather petulant. You nod, feeling rather ashamed. He points at the anvil. “Lay down. Now.” You waste no time, rushing over and laying down on your stomach across the large steel surface, his large hands pin you down in place as he takes position behind you, clearly fuming and clearly hard as his hips meet your ass. 

It’s a harrowing juxtaposition, how careful yet rough he is with you as his hand holds you by the back of your neck, pressing you into the cold metal of the anvil. You’re practically giddy with anticipation as you feel a faint heat on your wrists as they’re yanked behind your back. There’s a sizzling sound and you register a metal wrapped around your wrists, arousal and fear course through you as you feel a nearly painful heat that has you trying to look over your shoulder. He pushes back harder on your neck.

“Don’t move.” He grumbles as you go still. When he finally takes a step back you turn to look at what he’s done only to find your wrists shackled behind your back, they aren’t just locked in place. 

He’s welded them together.  

“You want my attention so badly? Then you’re gonna get it.” He yanks down everything below your waist, your tights bunching at your ankles as he pulls your skirt up to your hips. “You’re a terrible housekeeper, maybe I should find another use for you.” He kneels behind you, spreading you wide open with his hands, the cool air from the skylight chills your soaking folds. His fingers poke at you as if he’s examining you. You’re grinning as you wait for him to finally touch you in earnest but instead you feel cold steel pressing into you. You flinch away from the sensation but he holds you in place. 

“Sir- please-” You whine but all that gets you is a slap on the ass as he pushes the object in deeper. You groan, it isn’t all that thick but Maker it’s long, brushing up against spots inside of you you’re certain you’ve never reached before until the base of it bumps against your clit, the heavy weight shifting inside of you as it clicks. 

He put his fucking hammer inside you. 

“Maybe I can use you to hold my tools.” He remarks as he stands. “Would you like that? If I kept you around to hold my things?” He walks over to kneel in front of you now, tapping your face with his fingers. “This is a lesson, you know.” 

“What lesson?” Your voice is more strained than you expected. 

““That if you want something, you need to ask for it.” He whispers through the modulator as you nod.

“Please.” You whimper.

“Please, what?” 

“Please, I want you to touch me.” You sway your hips as best you can like this as he runs his fingers across your cheek.

“Like this?” Bastard.

“I want you to fuck me.” No point beating around the bush. “Sir.” You add on a beat later, hoping to encourage him. 

“That’s all you needed to say.” He stands back up and you groan as he yanks the tool out of you, running his fingers through your wetness as you hear the rustling of fabric and zippers before something thick and soft swipes through your folds. As he sinks himself into you at last one of his hands grips the meat of your hips so hard you’re certain it’ll bruise. The other holds the metal linking your cuffs as he pulls you back onto him, impaling you on his cock at a distressingly slow pace. 

Ask for it. 

“Please sir- I need you- I need you to fill me up.” 

“Such a polite girl.” You can hear his grin as he slams forward. Your hips are flush now as he thrusts his throbbing member into your soaking heat. “Such a- sweet cunt.” He groans as you slump forward, the size of him knocks the wind out of you as he splits you open. His cock stretches you open wider than ever before as he immediately takes on a punishing pace. 

Your body is on fire, your nerves igniting as he pounds into you. The hand on your hip moves lower, circling your clit sending another jolt of fire through your veins as you barrel towards an unavoidable orgasm. 

You cry out as he angles his hips to hit that spot inside of you and all too quickly you tumble over that edge, strangling his cock within you as you spasm wildly. Your eyes flutter shut as you soak him. 

He doesn’t let up for a second. 

“Gonna give you enough attention to keep you content for a few days.” He spits out through grit teeth, already pushing you towards another climax your body isn’t at all ready for. 

“So fucking needy. Maybe I should make some toys for you to play with while I’m working.” He grumbles, you feel his thumb prodding at your other entrance as you gasp. “Could make you something real pretty to put in here.” You nod furiously as he laughs, rocking his hips forward again. It’s a good thing you’re being held up by the anvil because your legs go limp underneath you as you come again. He pinches your clit, nowhere near hard enough to hurt but enough to make you sob as your eyes go wet from the overstimulation of everything that’s happening. “Think you can give me one more?” The dominating condescending tone is gone as he leans down, his helmet knocking against your spine as if he’s kissing you there. 

“I- I don’t know.” You manage to whisper out as he slows his brutal pace, an act of mercy to your puffy, sensitive cunt. 

“Do you wanna try?” His voice is sweet now as he stills inside of you. Keyword there is try. Your skin tingles in a way that is nearly painful as you nod. 

“Yes sir.” You turn your head to the side, resting the hot skin on the cold steel.

“That’s my girl.” He murmurs, starting a new pace, a gentler one as he pushes the blunt head of his cock against your cervix, pulling a drawn out whine from your chest. “That’s it, just a little more, such a good girl, so good for me.” He begins to ramble as his thrusts grow a little erratic and sloppy, his fingers tensing against your hips as he stumbles forward, his entire body flush with yours as he empties himself into you. You can feel the warmth leaking between the two of you as you’re hit with an entirely new sensation that makes you come one last time. Your vision goes entirely white now as tears wash down your face. He steadies you, holding you through it and whispering more praises that don’t entirely register before he carefully pulls out of you. Your eyes remain shut as he carefully takes your wrists, after a moment they’re back at your side as he puts you back together. Pulling up your panties and tights, keeping his cum inside of you in the process as he lays you on your back, eventually sitting you up. “Are you okay?” 

You grin. 

“Yes, sir.” He chuckles, leaning forward just enough to tap his helmet against yours for a moment. You look down at your wrists where the metal bands remain. 

“I made them for you, they aren’t always shackles, they're pretty when they aren’t stuck together.” You bring them up to your face, getting a closer look at the intricate details. There’s a small mythosaur embossed on each one. A symbol, something that binds you to him. 

“I love it.” You smile up at him, looking around the still dirty shop. “I should probably catch up on my work…” You start to stand but he sits you back down. 

“Take the day off, worry about it tomorrow.” He walks past you, you turn to watch him throw more kindling into the forge. 

“What are you gonna do with the rest of your day?” You tilt your head, watching as he takes the hammer that was inside you only moments ago and spins it in his hand. 

“I believe I owe you a couple of toys.” He tosses a handful of steel into the hearth as you sit back a bit and watch him start to work. 

a/n : this was ridiculous but also i did take it very seriously. this genre was what i was unapologetically born to write.

if you liked this and aren't familiar with my work this is a one off from my mandalorian series Best Kept Secret, which you can find here!!

I don't have taglists but follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates on any and all fics!!

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

Just A Little Spice - Dean x Reader

“Just A Little Spice” - Dean x Reader

Rating Teen

Dean x Reader

Tags: Language, Dean Makes Bad Decisions, Dean in Mild Peril, Dean is Infuriating but We Still Love Him

Word Count: 1500

Dean likes to spice things up, but it would be nice if he didn’t have to put his life in danger in the process.

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "I would burn down the world for you." dialogue square.

A/N: Something Short and Kinda Cute. I ended up finding a way to tie this to my other Bingo Square “Ice Play.”

Image created in Canva (photo used/found through Google Image Search)

You’d gotten back to the bunker a day later. Exhausted from the heat, satiated by the relief from the iceman. You’d found Sam organizing and labeling ingredients in his witchcraft cabinet. He was going to try a few new spells from Rowen’s bequeathed library. Realizing he needed some specialty items, he had to head up Nebraska way to meet with an herbalist who sourced supernatural spices.

Dean hovered near the cabinet, picking up jars, and mumbling pronunciations to himself. Sitting on a nearby stool beside a podium meant to support hefty grimoires for spellbook incantations, you chuckled at Sam’s constant swatting of Dean’s hands with each new inspection. You stared at Dean with your best telepathic “stop playing with your brother’s toys” look.

He frowned, relented, and placed a tincture back on a shelf. “That dude, Elijah?”

“Yep,” Sam huffed.

“What’s so important you gotta get right now?” Dean shrugged.

“Nothing important. I found a couple of spells that can change atmospheric pressure and manipulate temperature shifts. Was thinking those could come in handy in the greenhouse. Planning some experiments with out-of-season fruits and vegetables or plants that usually can’t grow in our area.”

You smiled. Sam had become quite the gardener the past year.

Sam eyed Dean in a way that cued me in on the fact that they had something private to discuss. Dean shot you a gentle “get the fuck out” request with raised brows and a head tilt.

“Alright, I’m gonna get unpacked.” You slapped your thighs and gave Sam a forearm squeeze as you passed. Dean tapped your ass on your way out.

You closed the door but lingered long enough to hear Sam, “I figured you were still planning something for-”

“Keep it movin’, sweetheart!” Dean bellowed.

You sighed and smiled to yourself. Dean had a surprise in mind for your anniversary.

~

You’d gone along with Dean’s ask for you to head out solo and grab beers and other supplies later that afternoon. Sam was well on his way to Nebraska by then. And, even if you didn’t play dumb well, you could give Dean time to do whatever it was he was doing for you.

Neither one of you was terribly romantic, but Dean could on occasion whip up the softest, cuddliest little moments.

So, two hours later, as Dean had nonchalantly yet specifically detailed for you to return, you stood outside the bunker door and readied for an anniversary celebration for the books.

Instead, after a hefty pull and the rattle and creak of the iron cell-like door, a plume of smoke released and assaulted your senses. Your eyes watered and you began to cough.

Beer and supplies dropped outside the threshold, you covered your mouth and nose with the collar of your T-shirt and darted inside. You crab walked down the stairs, below the cloud of smoke that hovered at the ceiling. Emergency flood lights flickered over the war room, washing it in an eerie red glow.

The bunker door slammed shut when your boots hit the ground floor, but that never happened. Some sort of automatic electrical protocol engaged for a lockdown scenario?

“Dean!” You tried your best shout to carry through the cavernous levels. He wasn’t in the library and the source of the smoke wasn’t anywhere near your current location. You dashed to the kitchen to what you assumed held the source.

You rounded the kitchen entrance. The contents of a heavy stock pot flicked with flames and churned out thick puffs of smoke on the stovetop. Your heart stopped, finding Dean splayed on the floor by the oven. Your eyes widened. Your coughing worsened at the acidic, burning taste filling your nose and mouth.

“Dean!” you called out again between wheezes. In the hazy film of smoke you spotted his head roll at your voice. You surveyed the area in seconds. You dropped to your knees and crawled over to him. You nestled by his side, grabbed his face by the jaw and jiggled. “Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Are you alright?”

His lids flitted open. Upon a deep inhale, his coughing fit began.

You’d freak out and try to figure out what irritant or poison was in the smoke later. For the moment he was alive.

After shielding him from further smoke inhalation, you dragged him by his ankles out of the kitchen unceremoniously up and over a step. The back of his head cracked onto the granite with one of your sharp tugs. He cursed into a terry kitchen towel you’d wrapped around his mouth and nose. About 20 yards into the shit show of a rescue he had enough awareness to flip onto his stomach and urge you that he could manage.

You hopped up, lungs on fire, and ran back into the kitchen despite his yelling and a failed attempt to hook his hand around one of your shins. You grabbed the fire extinguisher in the kitchen corner, pointed the nozzle at the pot, and, from a safe distance, sprayed the flame retardant all over the stove.

The fire was finally out and with it the smoke production.

A familiar smell wafted through the heat now that the flames had dissipated. Roasted Pork? Barbecue?

Arms dropped to your side. They were heavy and searing from the exertion. Tears poured from your eyes. Through blurry blinks as the scene cleared, you spotted a tiny glass jar a few feet from where you’d found Dean.

The extinguisher clattered to the floor. You picked up the jar, examined it with a sigh, accompanied by many more coughs, and trudged your way back to Dean.

He was sat on the floor, back against one of the hall walls. He clutched the towel that had been wrapped around his face. He looked up at you with tear-streaked cheeks beneath the flashing red floodlights. “Thank Christ,” he wheezed out.

“You alright?” you asked and fell to your knees beside him. One hand steadied yourself on his thigh.

He nodded.

You waited a few agonizing minutes with him, gaze steady on each other. The air cleared as each second ticked by, enough for you to both begin to breathe with some regularity. The coughs subsided. His hand clutched yours and squeezed.

You pulled your phone out and dialed Sam.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sam.” You swallowed, throat dry. “Got a question for you,” you rasped.

“Yeah, sure. You okay?”

“Just peachy.”

You watched Dean’s face begin to redden for another reason.

“Curious, what’s this firecracker pepper do from your stash?”

Sam’s silence on the other end didn't bode well. “Why?”

“I’m guessing it’s not an herb you’d use for culinary experiments.”

After three more beats. “He didn’t?”

“Yep, he did.”

“Holy shit! That stuff is highly combustible! It’s meant to oxygenate a fire and sustain it for a prolonged period.”

“Gathered that. Anything we should worry about with substantial smoke inhalation?”

“Nothing more than the usual. I can be back in a few hours.”

“No, no, we’re good. He’ll clean up his own mess.”

Dean frowned.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. You enjoy your time away from us.”

Sam sighed. “For fuck’s sake. Never a dull moment.”

“Not with your brother it isn’t. Talk soon.”

You ended the call and stared at Dean. Hard. “Dean?” you prodded.

“We were out of pepper!” His shoulders lifted and met his ears.

“I was out getting supplies!”

“If I’d asked you to get pepper you’d have known I was cooking!”

“I already knew you were cooking for our anniversary, Mr. Not Subtle!”

“I wanted to surprise you,” he murmured. “We missed celebrating the way I’d planned because of the hunt. I was making those spicy pulled pork sandwiches you love with all the extra chiles. I tossed some of the pepper in and this fucking flash bomb happened. I jumped back and lost my footing. Hit my head and that was all she wrote.”

You leaned in to feel the knot on the back of his head. “You probably have a concussion.”

He shrugged. “Nothing new there. I’ll be fine.”

You fumed, nostrils flared. “How can you be so, so-” you tossed your hands in his direction, “-this!”

He dared to toss you a cheeky grin.

“Dean, it’s not funny! You could have burned the bunker down and who knows what could’ve happened to-”

He grabbed your face with both hands. Quietly, he stated, “I would burn down the world for you.”

“Don’t do that.” You whispered. “You aren’t gonna get out of me being mad at you.”

He smiled. “Good. That means we can finally have angry make-up sex.”

You pursed your lips together and swallowed down a laugh.

His expression turned serious. “I made a mistake. It happens. I’ll clean up the mess in the kitchen.”

The thunder in your chest faded away. “You can be so careless sometimes.”

He nodded.

“You just act first, think later.”

He nodded.

“Well, you're right that you’re cleaning up all that mess and whatever the hell you did to the bunker.” You pointed down the hall to the kitchen and up at the lights.

He nodded. “Absolutely, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine! You can kiss me now!”

He repeated. “Absolutely, sweetheart.”

[simstorian-blog]

Residential Floorplan Suggestions

New York City: TWO

(CC List + Links)

World Map: San Myshuno

Area: Spice Market – Waterside Warble

Lot Size:  30 x 30

Capacity:

A Dive Bar

An Internet Café

A Pizzeria

A Tattoo Parlor

Bonus: 6 residential rental units floorplans completed – not assigned

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Needed

Expansion Packs

Cats & Dogs

City Living

Discover University

For Rent

Get Together

Get To Work

Growing Together

High School Years

Horse Ranch

Snowy Escape

Game Packs

Dine Out

Dream Home Decorator

Jungle Adventure

Outdoor Retreat

Parenthood

Spa Day

Star Wars: Journey to Batuu

Strangerville

Vampires

Stuff Packs

Crystal Creations

Home chef Hustle

Laundry Day

Moschino

Kits

Castle Estate

Courtyard Oasis

Cozy Bistro

Desert Luxe

Recommended Gameplay Mods

(Please read through what each mod has to offer before deciding if it fits your gameplay style or not.)

Carl’s Dine Out Reloaded

City Vibes Lot Traits

Functional Tattoo Parlor

Functional Venue Lot Traits

Lock/Unlock Doors for Any Lot

Spawn Refresh

Use Residential Rentals shared areas as Community Lots & Create Multi-Purpose Community Lots

Build Mode

CharlyPancakes

Chalk Pt.2 (Tiles)

Felixandre

Chateau Pt. 1 (Stone Foundation)

Chateau Pt. 2 (Doors, Metal Pieces, Tiles, Walls)

Colonial Pt. 3 (Fence 2, Plaster Foundation 2, Railing 2)

Florence Pt. 1 (Fresco Mural)

Grove Pt. 4 (Plaster Column, Plaster Floor)

London Interior (Dining Chair, Stool, Walls)

Paris (Cartouche Large, Corbel, Swag)

Schwerin (Terracotta Female)

SOHO Pt. 2

SOHO Pt. 3

SOHO Pt. 4

Harrie

Brownstone Pt. 2 (Traditional Door Frame – Med, Traditional Door – Med, Traditional Window 2 - Med)

Coastal Pt. 2 (Column)

Klean Pt. 3 (Concrete Floor, Painted Walls)

Kwatei Pt. 1 (3x1 BiFold, Double Arch, Single Interior Door)

Mutske

Stairs Add-on

Lijoue

Louer Collection (Iron Fence, Railing, Stone Stairs)

Peacemaker

Bistro Expanded (Awning 1x1)

Graffiti Mural 01

Pierisim

Winter Garden Pt. 2 (Double Door High, High Window w Bottom x2)

Sooky88

Checkered Marble Floor

English Country Wall Set (Subway Tiles, Subway Tiles w Wallpaper)

Scandinavian Wall Set (Plain w Tiles)

Syboubou

Neighborly 1 (Ceiling Outdoor Light, Mailbox)

Neighborly 2 (Interphone)

Buy Mode

AroundTheSims4

Laundromat (Seating x3 – Metal Base)

Tattoo Parlor (First Aid Kits, Gloves, Ink, Ink Display, Light, Saddle Stool, Tattoo Gun)

Cepzid

Functional Tattoo Chair

Felixandre

Berlin Pt. 1 (Curtain – Tall)

SOHO Pt. 1

Harlix

Baysic (Coffee Table, container, End Table, Kitchen Cabinet, Kitchen Counter, Kitchen Island, Kitchen Sink, Kitchen Trolley, Kitchen Accent Counter 1-3, Sofa)

Jardane (Leather Pouffe)

Kichen (Cabinet, Cups, Glasses, Plant, Shelf)

Kichen 2.0 Pt. 2 (Glasses 2 & 4)

Harrie

Shop The Look 1 (Armchair, Coffee Table)

Shop The Look 2 (Ceramic Side Table)

Shop The Look 3 (Circular Cushion)

Spoons Pt. 2 (2 Tile Glass Pedastal- Short & Tall, Counters, Espresso Bar, Island, Pastry Platter, Pizza Board, Shelving)

Kiwisims4

Blockhouse Dining (Booth Seating)

KKB

The Chilling Home (Module Bar Stool)

LittlleDica

Greasy Foods (Napkins, Salt Shaker, Stalls Door, Stalls Wall, Vents, Wet Floor Sign)

Modern Kitchen Stuff (Soft Breeze)

Rise & Grind (Décor Mural 2, Décor Syrup Bottle, Décor Wall Painting Menu, Dining Tables – All, Wastebun Counter)

Max20

Happily Ever After (Sign of Attention)

NANDO

Fashion Store (Ceiling Lamp)

Pierisim

Coldbrew Coffee Shop Pt. 3 (Menu, Paper Cup, Tea Box, Tips Jar)

MCM Pt. 1 (Simstudio Display)

MCM Pt. 4 (Kitchen Island)

Ravasheen

Shake and Shimmy Dance Floor

Shop Chef (Drink Dispenser)

Severinka

Industrial Light II

Simkoos

Clutter Dump Pt. 2  (Boba Notepad, Boba Stacked Cups V1, Cafeteria Straw Dispenser)

SimspirationBuilds

Toffee Pt. 1 (Art)

Syboubou

Catherine Sushi Restaurant (Wall Shelf 1 & 3)

Contemporary Haven (Armchair, Artworks, End Table, Sofa 3P Left)

Macaron (Counter Display)

TaurusDesign

Lilith Chilling Area Pt. 1 (Bartender Kit, All Drinks, SulSul Sign)

Tuds

Cave (Panel Light 2 x 4)

IND 01

IND 03

Turn Couch

Wondymoon

Fraxinus AIO Computer (DL on Patreon)

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

Tray Files: DOWNLOAD

[applejuicebegood]

All My Love - Platonic!Gaz x Teammate!Reader

Fem!Reader

Summary: Stressing over the cooking for that evening and bad memories, Y/N finds Gaz who talks them through what their feeling. A/N: Wrote this for the very sweet @midnights-song and @kaoyamamegami for their very kind words on my last fic. This one is a sorta fallow up, please enjoy! Masterlist

Cw: Descriptions of absent + alcoholic mother, mentions of PTSD-related flashbacks, elder-child syndrome Word Count: 1960

The smell of cedar smoak and garlic clung to your hands and hair. A dull ache snaked its way up the back of your knees and into your thighs. Wringing your hands with a damp tea-towel you looked over your kitchen, the results of your labour tucked away in the humming oven and boiling on the stove top. Flour and spices swirled together across every vacant surface, oil-stained pots and bowls crowded your skink, and potato skins and egg shells were crowded in a pile across from the filled compost bin you were meaning to take outside to feed to your chickens. You puffed out a long breath, resting your wrists on your hips. You had finally finished all of the cooking for tonight's supper for your teammates. 

Your experience with cooking has been relegated to that of your small family. The distant memories of your aunts and grandmothers crowded in the same kitchen where you stood now, knives and peelers making quick work of the harvested meat and potatoes your farm had cultivated. It was the only thing you recalled as you struggled to discern the cramped handwriting of the recipes left behind by your family. Their jovial laughing and quick gaelic speak now distant memories carved into the cabinets and countertops. Smeared on the vintage china and cast iron skillets hung on the oak walls. If you stayed still and concentrated enough you could remember the feeling of your grandmother's rough palm on your supple cheek and her lips on your forehead. The smell of milk and wheat wafting through your senses. 

You were much younger then. Your fingers easily slipping onto the knife's blade and your wrists burned from boiling pasta water. You needed to use your baby sister's step stool to stand over the cutting board properly. Your mother was too busy passed out on the couch with a bottle of whiskey slipping from her limp grasp to worry about feeding her children. You were the eldest, therefore it became your job to try and emulate the effortless dance you watched your female relatives perform every holiday season or family reunion. 

Now you were quicker, easily controlling the tools in your scarred, tattooed hands. Your time in the military proved helpful in quickening your reaction speed, allowing you to cut through the squash and potatoes faster than before. You had begun the cooking process that morning, refusing the offered help from your teammates. Insisting that guests shouldn’t be expected to cook and that you could handle it. And you could, although it resulted in the ache in your thighs spreading into your lower back, causing a hushed groan to escape from your throat as you tugged at the roots of your hair. 

You quickly turned at the harsh thumping of boots on the creaking wooden stairs. Drawn out of your spiralling stupor. 

‘Holy.. smells fucking amazing in here lass..’ ‘Language! Johny!’ You say through clenched teeth, motioning to the living room couch where your baby sister was supposed to be sitting next to your captain. The volume of the football game on the TV turned down. Johnny winced in apology, hushing his booming voice to a whisper. ‘Sorry.. Sorry, here you go sit.. I’ll clean’ 

Johnny says after looking you over and taking the towel from your hands. Your team had gotten good at noticing when exhaustion or strain worked its way into each other's bodies. Your hunched shoulders and wide eyes giving away your building stress. ‘Oh Johnny no.. you don’t have too-’ ‘Yea.. yea, Go sit lassie.. After mak’in all this food I’m surprised you're still standing’ Johnny says ushering you to the living room before patting your shoulder and turning to find a starting point in the stack of dishes. 

You sigh. The instinct of obeying your higher ranking sergeant hadn’t seemed to wear off yet. Walking to the couch you expected to have your little sister squeal and jump into your arms. Only to find her little body curled against your captain’s side. Her hands bunched up under her chin, the delicate skin of her eyelids shut. Price’s head rested on the back of the couch with his arms stretched out over the cushions, his mouth slightly agape. You quietly leaned down to brush your sister's forehead, as if in response she snuggled her cheek against Price’s side at your touch, not wanting to be woken up just yet. Price twitched in his sleep, pulling Emi closer against him. You kissed the side of her head, pulling the knitted blanket up over her shoulders and across your captain's lap. The warm prick of relief spread across your skin at the realization that your baby sister had grown comfortable enough to fall asleep in the circle of your captain's embrace. Hoping that she had found someone other than you to admire and emulate.  

You made your way to the back porch, pulling on a leather overcoat to protect your warmth from the bite of the winter air. As you swung the glass door open, the brush of cold against your warm cheeks soothed you, your breath clouding up in front of you. You looked out onto the backyard of your farm, a few metres of blanketed gardening space trailing out to the fenced off cliff side. The clothesline pole used in the warmer months stood to the right, the cable attached to the house swinging in the swirling wind. The fence built to keep your cows and sheep and your sisters from roaming too close to the cliff edge poked out from the dull white snow. Past the drop of land, you could see the storm-grey waves churning and thrashing against each other like fighting children. Stretching further into the distance. You slowed your breathing and shut your eyes, trying to test if you could hear the water slap against the cliff side. When you were little, you would climb through the wire fencing and peer over the cliff's edge, never realizing how if you took only a few more steps death would embrace you like the waves embraced the fistfulls of grass and pebbles you would toss over the edge. Sometimes you wished you could return to that state of not even being afraid of falling from a cliff face. 

‘Hey.. Y/N?’ ‘Oh! Kyle.. shit you scared me!’ 

The jolt of surprise at Gaz’s voice ran up your spine and over your chest. In your daze, you didn’t realize Gaz settled on the porch's couch, a book from the living room shelf open in his lap. The deck held a few mismatched outdoor chairs and a couch, crowded with old throw pillows and spear blankets. Small metal lanterns hung overhead, painted and decorated by your sisters when they were both in primary school. The dwindling candle light gently swayed over Gaz’s smooth brown skin, a warm break from the multitude of grey stretching out before you. 

‘Heh sorry, here.. Sit. You look like you need a break’ Your boots scuffed against the deck floor as you settled yourself by Kyle. You tucked your legs up underneath you with a groan. The pain settling in your legs. You were still fixated on the blurred horizon line stretching beyond the haze of clouds that were beginning to roll in from the town harbour. Gaz’s presence beside you blurring like the apparent ending of the surrounding oceans. ‘Hey.. you alright?’ Gaz asked with the snap of his book shutting. ‘Yeah.. yeah of course.. Just, just thinking about.. Ya know, I mean… I-I just want things to be good for you guys’ You say, looking up at him. Folding your arms over your chest. ‘What.. What do you mean? Y/N.. things have been perfect, I honestly don’t know what else you could do to make this trip more enjoyable’ ‘I know.. I mean- I think, I don’t know Gaz.. I just worry that.. that this isn’t.. Ugh! I don’t even know what i’m saying’ You chuckle, gripping your head as you run a hand through your hair. Glancing at Gaz you notice him scratching the jagged scar on his forearm. 

It was during a mission in your last deployment that an enemy soldier split his skin open with a combat knife. Your stitches were frantic and clumsy, being that you were in the back of a moving helicopter for the evac and you had to watch the consciousness drain out of your friend's face. You noticed how as the cut started to heal Gaz would scratch at the scar absently, something that annoyed you being that it would remind you that the split wouldn't be so gnarled had you been able to keep your shaking hands steady.  ‘You really have no clue how to stop worrying..’

His tone was sad, grey like the ocean waters.

‘Worrying ‘bout you lot is my job.. It’s not something I can just.. Turn off’ You were frustrated, picking at the loose threads of the embroidered pattern lacing around your skirt. ‘I get that. I had that during my first break home, not being able to remember how to.. Ya know.. Be normal. To be a person and not a soldier. God, it would drive Ma mad, how I could only get up at five in the morning and.. Ya know.. The flashbacks’ You watched him as he talked, his rich brown eyes cast down at his hands. ‘There really isn’t a proper way to “be normal”, not after what you've been through, what you’ve seen. But that's not something you have to figure out on your own.. I mean hell, most of us would be dead if you weren't on this team Y/N’ ‘Ha.. I know’ ‘Exactly, what I mean is.. You've got people around you who would do anything for you. And we are probably the only ones who know what it’s like to be stuck in trying to remember who you were before deployment. It’s something we’ve all experienced, so don’t you believe for a second you should go through it by yourself.’ Gaz leaned forward, placing his hand on your knee. You instinctively took his fingers into your own, his hands cold. You forced yourself to meet his eyes, gently nodding your head. Your smile tight, trying to hold back the growing dampness in the corners of your eyes. You squeezed his hand, running your thumb over his knuckle. He squeezed your fingers back, a silent language you shared when words were too daunting to put together. You always found it shocking how this kind of comfort felt like it was being directed at someone else. Like it was a puzzle piece ripped in half, it could still fit in the piece but it appeared foreign. You weren't used to it, and how easily it appeared to flow from Gaz. In his words and in his viable willingness to help you. The unusual sensation of being understood made it hard to express your gratitude for it, Gaz knew this. Which is why you both sat there, in a shared understanding only the both of you as colleagues and friends could have. ‘You smell great by the way’

His blunt comment caused a ripple of laughter to fall from your lips, a tear drifting down the bridge of your nose. ‘You dick..’ You scoffed, leaning your head onto his shoulder, tucking your arm under his. 

‘Do aingeal den sórt sin’

You mumble, directing your attention back to the grey horizon line. ‘What does that mean..?’ Gaz asks, following your gaze outwards. You respond with a simple sigh. The stress and aching dissipated for the moment, something you didn’t want to risk losing with your supposed inability to properly thank Gaz for his tenderness and care.

A/N: ‘Do aingeal den sórt sin’ translates to 'your such an angel' in Irish Gaelic

[jessicanjpa]

frazzled

Just your typical morning parenting five undead teenagers. An excerpt from this 1983 one-shot. Esme POV.

"Emmett Cullen, what is the meaning of this?"

My mad scientist leapt up from his stool, sending a red-hot soldering iron and half a dozen circuit boards rattling to the concrete floor of our basement. "Uh oh," he grunted, taking one look at my expression.

I flicked the letter open and read it aloud. "Dear Dr. and Mrs. Cullen, we are writing to inform you that your son Emmett has not met the requirements for graduation on June 20 with a bachelor's degree in mechanical engineering. He will be receiving a failing grade in four classes this semester, three of which are required for graduation as described above. Please review the transcript enclosed. Your student may enroll in all of these classes for the upcoming fall semester of the 1987–88 school year without reapplying for admission. Enrollment for the fall semester..." I shoved the letter into his hands. "Care to explain?"

"Hmm." He studied the letter with scholarly interest. "I may have forgotten to turn in most of my assignments and take the exams this semester."

"Emmett! You were doing so well—you got straight As last semester! What on earth happened?"

"Nothing happened!" he said. He was trying not to grin—the nerve of him! "I just don't want to graduate."

"What? Why?"

He shrugged and stooped to pick up the circuit boards. "What's the point? It's not like I'm going to get a job."

"You could if you really wanted to, you know that. We have at least another year before we move on."

"Esme," he said, finally bursting into the enormous grin I loved so much. "Can you really see me sitting in an office eight hours a day?"

"Not really," I admitted. The image really did border on the impossible. "But there are other jobs you might enjoy. And even if you don't use your degree that way, you deserve to graduate a hundred times over! You've come so far academically, and we're so proud of you."

"Yeah, but still, what's the point of the piece of paper? It's not like Carlisle ever got a legit medical degree, you know?"

"That's not the point—"

"I swear to God, Rosalie, if you don't unlock this door...!" Edward shouted two floors above us.

"Anyway," Emmett said cheerfully, swinging back around onto his stool, "it's one less graduation you have to sit through. Those things have to be getting—"

"ESME!" Rosalie shrieked.

"—old by now. You're welcome!"

I huffed my disapproval and headed up the stairs. Edward and Rosalie had been at it all morning. Edward was parked in front of the bathroom door, rapping repeatedly on the bruised wood.

"Now what?" I sighed.

"I'm going to be late for my eleven o'clock," Edward snapped, trying the doorknob again. "I need my keys, Rosalie, for the last time!"

"And your keys are... in the bathroom?" I said, perplexed.

"I may have left them in the pocket of yesterday's jeans," he admitted. "But it wouldn't be a problem if some people didn't take three-hour bubble baths..."

"Or if some people would clean up their own laundry," shouted the voice on the other side of the door. "Honestly, how lazy can you be?"

"All you have to do is slide them under the damn door!"

"I'm not getting out of this bath for your stupid philosophy class! It's an elective anyway! Esme, would you please dismember him for a while?!"

"What possible reason could there be for sitting in cold water for three hours?!"

"Because you haven't left yet?!"

Edward spluttered, rattling the doorknob again. "Of all the pig-headed, immature—"

"You want your keys?!" Rosalie shouted. "Here!" There was a splashing sound and then we heard the bathroom window creak open and slam shut.

"Are you kidding me?!" Edward fumed. "It's been raining for six days straight!" He threw me an accusing look and stormed down the stairs.

"Esme?" Alice's voice drifted in the window from outside.

"Coming," I called back, exasperated, and headed downstairs after Edward.

The screen door swung open and Alice appeared, followed closely by Jasper.

"It's not a big deal," he was telling her.

"They're in the garden," Alice informed Edward politely. "Two rows back in the zucchini."

"Thanks. At least I have one decent sister in this house."

"My pleasure, dear brother."

The screen door slammed behind him.

"Carlisle needs you," Alice announced, looking squarely up at me with that elfin authority she carried sometimes. "He's about to pull over on the side of the road and he's upset."

I glanced up at the clock. "His shift isn't due to end for another three hours. What's happened?"

"I don't know," Alice said. "I just know that he's upset and that you should go. He'll be stopped on the shoulder in a few minutes. Route 73, mile marker 59."

"He doesn't necessarily want company," Jasper put in. From the hint of exasperation in his tone, it sounded like he had been protesting Alice's interference all the way home.

"I thought you weren't going to hunt," I said to him, frowning. His eyes were still too orange—the result of his accident back in March—for being seen in public, and Rosalie was counting on him. It wasn't every day she presented at the college's astrophysics symposium.

"I figured it'd be better not to kill her classmates," Jasper said. "I'll wear sunglasses."

"Indoors, at night?" I asked.

"As I was saying," Alice said, glaring up at him, "You'll need to go now if you want to meet him in time. Traffic's bad."

"Not in his direction," Jasper said firmly.

I was already out the door. Any excuse to get out of this house!

[poisonedbywine]

Illusion

Leon S. Kennedy x female reader

Warnings: Bullying, Violence, swearing, strong words

Notes: I had this in my head for a while... Today is so cold and I love writing in the cold, even with my fingers frozen.

English is not my native language, Translator may have made a spelling error.

I had a best friend.

His name was Leon, he was in his first year of elementary school.

-"Can you swing me?" Leon pulled me to the swing.

-"I push you!" I gave a big smile with my eyes almost closed and I started to push the swing, seeing it fly in the sky.

-"I'M FLYING!" Leon shouted, which made me laugh and shake as hard as I could.

And when I least expected it, Leon fell off the swing.

There I was, sitting in the uncomfortable chair in the hospital waiting room.

Everyone looking at me.

-"What's a kid supposed to be doing here?" A girl whispered.

The nurse told me that Leon's uncles they asked me to go home, as it was already dark.

I smiled and agreed, handing them a small drawing as an apology for the broken arm.

I shouldn't have stood by and watched

I was supposed to help my friend.

The next day, Leon was sitting on the stool.

I wasn't excited to play today

Mom fought with me, because I had broken Leon's arm.

I just stayed quiet, receiving the scolding

-"Bad girl! No one told you to do that to your only best friend, at least he accepts you the way you are."- Mom's words echoed in my head.

Leon hugged me.

Like a bear, squeezing me really tight.

I want to know why he's hugging me

But even so, I hugged him back and smiled.

-" Do not worry, everything is fine."-

-"I was the one swinging the swing, Lee."- I take a sigh

Leon said everything was fine, and that he would let me sign his cast with my markers.

I smiled and said goodbye to him, heading to my classroom.

A little ball of paper was thrown at me

I opened it, and on it was a drawing of a whale with my name on top.

I heard my classmates laughing behind me

I wanted to cry.

So I lay down on my little table and I laid my head on my arms, which were on top of the wood, hiding my eyes.

And I cried

My eyes wet everything, especially my pillows and my teddy bears at night.

The bell had rung

Snack time!!

I ran down the stairs and sat on the stool where Leon and I were.

I waited for him, like every day

There he was, with his Iron Man lunch box and his arm and cast full of drawings that his classmates had made, running to me.

I smiled, moving to the side so he could sit down.

-"I brought the pen." - I said quietly

-"I saved your place here"- Leon pointed to a small blank patch on the plaster.

I made a colorful drawing of me and him holding hands.

-" What did they do today?"-

I didn't want Leon to know they were mean to me again today, even though he always found out the truth.

That's why I said nothing unusual happened

-"You are cool, my star. Don't let them say otherwise."- Leon he put his arm over my shoulder and pulled me into a hug.

-" I'm already seven years old, I already know how to take care of myself very well."-

Leon laughed, but soon the bell rang and I had to say goodbye.

I got home and ran up the stairs to my room

I covered my ears with my hands and curled up on the bed

I hated when mom and dad fought

Mom always came out crying and with a black eye

He took his anger out on everything, including me

But they're the only people who love me

I don't blame them for anything.

I love them very much, because they have not abandoned me.

The next day, I didn't want to go to school.

It was physical education and I hated it

But, unfortunately, daddy made me go

Daddy was bad sometimes

Sometimes.

Including the times he made me go to school

When I arrived, Leon wasn't there

One of his friends told me that he missed his wake-up time, and ended up missing

I would be alone today

When the bell rang, I would jump over the wall and run to my bed

I entered the sports court and sat down on the floor

I was the last to be chosen.

I was on a good team!

I liked football, so I managed to score a goal, I was so happy with myself.

But when I went to get the ball, one of the boys on my team pushed me to the ground

-"GET OUT OF MY WAY"- The boy screamed and kicked my stomach on purpose, he walked away and joined the other boys.

I screamed in pain and lay on the floor, some girls on my team laughed.

"STOP LAUGHING!"

I had the strength to get up from the floor and scream as loud as I could

Everyone looked at me

"So the whale can talk?" One of the bad boys spoke

"Shut up! SHUT UP!!"

"Let's teach this girl a lesson."

Both teams came running towards me with their fists closed, and I covered my face with my hands.

Punches, kicks, slaps, were received against my body on the floor, curled up on the green grass of the football field.

"Stronger"

"Let's throw harder punches!"

"Whale, obese."

"Weak."

"You are a backstop."

"I hope you die."

I no longer had the strength to fight all this

When I woke up I was in my bed

My body hurt, my face was hurting, and my lips were swollen and bleeding.

I only remembered the boys hitting me and the teacher separating everyone

I also remember my mother's face when she saw me

Dad was disappointed in me

I wanted to see Leon

He would know what to say to me at these times

Despite being hurt, I limped downstairs and asked to go to Leon's house.

Mom left, which made me feel a little better inside

I fought the pain and walked to Leon's house

I rang the doorbell and waited

A tall figure appeared

-"How can I help?" - I looked up and saw the unexpected

What happened in the two weeks I was home?

Leon's parents were there

I asked where Leon was

He looks at me with a serious face, saying that I shouldn't bother.

I sighed and lowered my head, heading back home while kicking the poor rocks along the way.

2 months passed and I never spoke to Leon again

He knew everything that happened to me that terrible day

He apologized and hugged me

That was the last time he hugged me since then.

Tomorrow is my birthday and mom made me invite everyone in my class.

I did as she ordered.

And I invited Leon

Today was the big day, I was excited!

Since mom and dad were fighting, mom is the only one who will stay at the party, I believe.

I helped with the decoration and I decorated my cake myself, it was so beautiful.

And now I'm alone waiting for someone to ring the doorbell

Mom came out and said she was going to invite Dad to my party

Nobody showed up

Much less Leon

Tears came down from my eyes exactly when it was 10 o'clock at night.

My cake was whole

Then the doorbell rings

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY STAR."

I wiped the tears and quickly hugged Leon

I explained to him what happened

And he explained to me what had happened to him

Leon would move

His parents have decided to take care of him, but he will go to another country

Today was your last day

I begged and asked him not to leave

But he didn't do it

Leon hugged me and said goodbye, saying his last words

"Will we ever meet again, Lee?"

"Yes... one day."

"When?"

"When I turn 18, then we can do a lot of things together."

"Okay, can we meet at the same playground as usual?"

"In the same playground as always."

"I love you, Lee."

"I love you too, my little star."

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

Life has never been this difficult since Leon left

Separation from parents, changes, rejection... What a beautiful life

I had few friends, just 2, but college separated us

Life was never wonderful

That promise I made with Leon when I was 8 years old is complete today and I honestly don't want to go to the park.

He promised me and I promised, promises shouldn't be broken, right?

I ran to the park

All the memories were running through my mind

Maybe he doesn't even remember me

All the moments together were the best memories I had

So I arrived at the park

I was late, but I was there

I sat on the bench and waited

Three hours have passed since then

The moon was coming little by little, the sun was waving goodbye behind the mountains

I found myself alone in the park now, waiting for someone who would never come

Leon never kept his promise, that was clear... But I'll still stay here

I know he's somewhere, somewhere far away.

That's one of the worst feelings

I gave up waiting for Leon

"All these years... I waited for you..."

"Are you just my imagination playing tricks?"

"I was so alone, Leon... Why did you leave?"

"It was all a big, painful illusion."

I turned my back and went home.

They were soulmates that could have worked

Leon remembered his promise

He caught the first flight into town

He arrived early, but it was for a good reason, he wanted to see you so much

But it was too soon

Leon waited until 3 o'clock in the afternoon, there was no longer any reason for him to stay there

You had forgotten him, and it hurt.

Leon collected his things and went to the taxi, there was an hour until the next flight back to his city.

He left a letter in the bank, leaving some of his last hope

Fate didn't understand

It was a windy day and in a few seconds, the letter flew away.

You came running to the park

But Leon was already getting into the taxi

Meanwhile, you were waiting for him. Without hope and with a disturbed life

The two went their separate ways

But what if it had happened? What if you had arrived seconds earlier at the park?

And if...

But the past is the past.

They are connected to invisible wires.

No matter how stretched and tangled this thread is, it will never break.

Even if it takes centuries and lives, you will meet again

Can finally join together as one

And like all the stories we heard as a child

Be happy forever.

[invisibleraven]

24, sleepy kiss for Rulie?

"Mami?"

Julie cracked open her eyes, seeing Luna peering up at her waving her little fingers at her. "Hi moonbeam, what's up?"

"Are we making breakfast for daddy today?"

Julie looked at the clock seeing it was at least after seven AM, so that was a blessing-usually Luna woke them up closer to five. But she had promised Luna they would make Reggie breakfast for Father's Day, so up she got.

Glancing over she saw that he was still sleeping, which was good, because she knew he had been up late working, coming to bed long after Julie herself was asleep. They tried not to do that too often, but he had a new client who was very demanding and would greatly increase his business connections, so he wanted to stay in her good books.

Julie took Luna's hand, leading her down to the kitchen. "So, what do you want to make for breakfast mija?"

"Waffles!" Luna yelled, earning a shush from her mother. "With chocolate chips and berries!"

"We can do that," Julie chuckled. "Waffles are daddy's favourite."

"Yippee!"

They gathered the ingredients, and Julie placed Luna on the counter so she could help pour everything in the bowl, with the waffle iron sitting on the other side of the kitchen slowly heating up.

Thankfully by now Luna was an old hand at helping cook and bake and didn't make as much mess as she used to-Julie still had nightmares about the first time she attempted to help make pancakes with Reggie. Sure there was still some flour to wipe up and an odd piece of egg shell to fish out of the bowl, but she'd take that before ever having to clean batter off the ceiling fan again.

"You ready to pour the batter Luna Boo?" Julie asked.

Luna nodded, and they moved her stool over to the other counter so she could pour a scoop of batter into the waffle iron-the one that was shaped like the Death Star, because Julie married a Star Wars nerd, and she had come to accept it. Sure she wasn't as big a fan of the franchise, but it wasn't about her today. Plus it wasn't like he didn't put up with her love of old Disney channel movies and boy bands.

While they waited for the waffles to cook, Julie made coffee and gave Luna some fruit to wash so they could have some fruit salad as well. She did the cutting-she didn't trust Luna with knives quite yet.

Finally the breakfast was ready, so Julie got a tray ready with enough food for all of them, and Luna grabbed the card she had made for Reggie at daycare, bolting up the stairs ahead of her mother.

Only when Julie got to her bedroom, she found Luna gently giving Reggie kisses to wake him up and whispering at him that she had helped make breakfast for him because he was the best dad in the world. Julie swore she was melting as Reggie swiped at his eyes-feigning it was due to sleep, and not him tearing up.

"Love you too moonbeam," he said, voice groggy. "I'm only a great dad because I have such an awesome kid."

Luna grinned at that-the same smile that her father bore, and Julie wished she had a camera to capture this moment, but instead came in, coughing subtly.

"Hey darlin'," Reggie said, sitting up and shifting Luna over so she was in the middle of the bed. "Have fun playing sous chef?"

"Luna did it all really," Julie teased, sitting in her spot and offering them both a plate of food. Thankful that their sheets were easy to clean when she saw Luna whip out the syrup.

The food was delicious, Reggie cooed over the card and crafts Luna gave him and gave her a big sticky kiss in thanks.

"Do you wanna open my present?" Julie asked.

"You didn't have to get me anything," Reggie insisted, but made grabby hands at the envelope she swung back and forth in front of him. But then he opened it and looked at it-then at her. "Really?"

"Really," she nodded, eyes filling with tears just as his were.

"Why are you crying?" Luna asked, looking between her parents with concern. "Was the present sad?"

"No moonbeam, it's the best present," Reggie assured her. "And it's for you too."

"Me?"

"Yes mija," Julie replied. "Mami got you a baby sister or brother."

"Where is it?' Luna asked, looking around like she expected the baby to pop out.

"In my tummy," Julie replied, laying Luna's hand over her stomach. "It won't be here until after Christmas, because it still needs to grow, but next year you'll be a big sister."

"That's so cool!" Luna exclaimed.

"It really is," Reggie agreed, pulling his girls in for more kisses. "Best present ever."

[shurisbathwater]

𝖳𝖮𝖴𝖢𝖧 𝖬𝖤.✫

*𝖻𝗈𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗆𝖾

𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾.*

𝖳𝗈𝗑𝗂𝖼!𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗂 𝗑 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖿𝖾𝗆! 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝗐 𝖺 𝗋 𝗇 𝗂 𝗇 𝗀 𝗌 ::

Cussing

𝗑 𝗍 𝗋 𝖺 𝗌 ::

Y/n is such a bad b plzzz I cant

𝗍 𝖺 𝗀 𝗌 ::

@shuriszn @letitias-fav @shurismainbxtch @dreamwallkers

𝖳𝖤𝖤𝖭𝖠𝖦𝖤 𝖥𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖱 ☆ 𝖣𝖱𝖠𝖪𝖤

𝖲𝖧𝖴𝖱𝖨 𝖶𝖠𝖲 𝖨𝖭 was in Wakanda's hottest nightclub--packed on a Friday night. Every single girl had eyes for her, though it had been about four months since you left, you lived rent free in her mind.

She sat on the lounge chairs in the special V.I.P section, each girl on one side of her, giggling and drinking.

She had touched and teased and even slept with other girls, but none of them could do it like you. She didn't feel anything without you.

They were probably here for free drinks anyway. She beckoned a server over and grabbed three shots, only to down them all in a mist of three seconds to get you out of her mind.

"Shit." She mumbled, the bitter taste hitting her tongue.

But how ironic, a red-haired girl walked into the club, though she was upstairs, she saw her through the huge crowd and in her black shades. Perfect for a distraction.

She wore a black tight fitted dress, her red hair wavy to perfection. Her hips swayed seductively as she walked.

Shuri licked her lips and pushed past the hoes trying to get her attention.

She made her way to the stairs and pushed past the huge crowd in the club. The strobe lights made it harder to see the mysterious girl- but she didn't care.

"Move." Shuri mumbled as she pushed through the crowd full of people trying to enjoy their night.

She saw her sitting on the bar stools, her gucci shoulder bag sitting on the side. "I'll have anything you have, I don't care." Her sweet voice spoke in a way that made you want her more.

"On me." Shuri said as she sat on the stool next to her, only to find out it was just the girl she wanted to see.

You.

"Shuri."

"Y/n..You look so.." she said as she licked her lips, staring you down.

"Youre staring."

"I'm aware." She smirked as she looked at you through her shades.

"I...you..."

"Dont finish that sentence. I'm not interested."

You took sips of your drink until you finished, and got up to go to the dance floor.

She was shocked that your aura and..whole demeanour had changed. You were more confident in a way, and that just made her want you more. . She wanted you. She wanted you now and she was going to get you no matter what.

After all, the princess always gets what she wants, right?

Shuri followed like the lost puppy she is.

The strobe lights shined on you and you alone as you swayed your hips to the music, the bass getting louder.

Out of body,

Thats just how I feel when I'm around you shawty.

Shuri sneakily comes up behind you and places her arms around your waist as you moved. Your body language became stiff. She began to whisper in your ear.

"I've been searching and searching, but nobody can do it like you ma."

"I want you. And I'm gonna have you. Riri Williams? Who the hell is that?" She breathed onto your skin, leaning down to kiss behind your ear where your tattoo is.

You say the word, im on the way

--This shit feels like teenage fever

"You had many chances Shuri, and you blew it."

There was barely any distance between the two of you, it was close enough to kiss, but of course you weren't going to do that.

"Every kiss." You leaned in closer, Shuris breaths getting heavier.

"Every touch." You wrap her arms around her shoulder, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

"--doesn't mean anything to me now. So I suggest you stop trying because its not going anywhere." You whisper as you look into her eyes once again.

"Goodbye, shuri."

You walk off of the dance floor to meet Riri. She watched you helplessly as Riri sat on the bar stool, looking at was supposed to be hers with love. You put Riri's hands in yours and leaned down to kiss her. "What was..that encounter about?" She asks as you break the kiss.

"Just had to remind Shuri who's shes talking to."

And thats when she realised you had really moved on. That wasn't part of the plan.

"I'm not fucking finished." she grumbled as she got off of the dance floor, your words still lingering in her mind.

"Every kiss"

"Every touch."

"--doesn't mean anything now."

A/N : i made this lil bonus for yall bc why not. Also double uploaddddd!! I also rlly wanted to finish this i was on a hiatus. Did I eat?

[paisholotus]

Ch. 5

Narrative

Sonya, their mother, set the table with the food, plates, and sliverware. Nalae got home from her date—her very first date, by the way. She told her mama and pops that she invited him and his uncle over to dinner. Sonya and her husband, Malik, were disappointed because they were unable to see her leave on her date.

Sonya & Malik

Tisha and Anthony are in charge when they can't be here, and they were told that she laid down the law before she left. Tisha can be very violent and threatening, especially when it comes to Nae and Mar, but she is mainly protective of Nae, who has never been on a date or had a boyfriend.

 

Sonya and Malik became aware of Mar hanging around the boy Nae went on a date with. Mar told them about Marcus, or Lucious, if you will, and that they were friends. And about him missing school and his grades dropping, he promised them he wouldn't miss any more school and would get his grades back up.

 

He told them that Marcus was a good person; he simply did bad things to survive. His mother knew all too well about doing bad things in order for her family to survive.

 

His parents recognized that Marcus hustled to make ends meet, but that didn't mean he wanted the boy around their daughter. When Malik and Sonya moved into this house and into this neighborhood, they stopped hustling, killing, robbing, and so on.

 

Are they proud of it? Of course not, but a parent will go to any length to make sure their kids are straight. But their pops promised to be on his best behavior tonight and not get disrespectful in any way.

 

Sonya was the type of person who had the biggest heart. She was caring and understanding. She would invite you to dinner, bring you fresh baked goods, etc.

 

You'd think she's just a nice, friendly mother, and you'd be right. But she does those things all the time just to read people. Outsiders, to be exact. That was her job; it was how they got money and safety connections. It's how Malik got to be a doctor; it's how Sonya got to be a lawyer. Did they cheat their way up there? Possibly. But don't get it twisted; they worked their ass off to be where they are now. Sonya is an amazing lawyer and has legal connections. Malik is an extraordinary doctor; whenever things get bad, he has to do things you pray about later.

 

Sonya got to know the people around her. By reading you and knowing every detail about you, even the secrets your own mama doesn't know about, But, once again, that was her job. She was the brains, and her husband was the one who had to go 'handle' things because her husband wouldn't allow her to. Not that her husband wasn't intelligent; in fact, he was extremely perceptive. He was never the yelling or getting in your face type of mad. He was calm and collected; he was very much a watch-and-listen type of person.

 

Their mother chopped up mint leaves and mixed them into the lemonades. She made a peach raspberry lemonade and a regular lemonade. She put them in the fridge to chill. She walked out of the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs and yelled to see if the kids were ready.

 

Tisha had also told her mom she had a boy coming over to dinner too. She said the boy she invited was also friends with the boy Nae went on a date with.

 

Nae sat on the high stool in her bathroom while Tisha was flat-ironing her hair. She cut her ends, which were shorter than usual. She had her hair straight with a swoop and whispy curls on the ends. She got up, thanked her sister, and even asked if she wanted her to do hers.

Nae's and Tisha's hair

Tisha had long, curly hair like Nae's when they were little kids. When Tisha first got into high school, she cut it into a pixie cut. She sometimes let it get longer into a bob but would cut it again.

Nae finished Tisha's hair, and she thanked Nae, leaving the bathroom and going out of her room to finish getting dressed. Nae walked to her full-length mirror and checked herself out. She added two gold necklaces, plus her name plate necklace. She doesn't know what to do with her shoes, so she puts on her white-forced ones.

Nae's and Tisha's outfit

 

In Tisha's room, she looked at herself and thought she looked good. Tisha wasn't a dressy type of person. She was more tomboy-like. Tisha was comfortable with her sexuality; she was confident with a touch of arrogance and cockiness. She was bold and blunt; she didn't care if what she said hurt your feelings. Because, probably nine times out of ten, you probably had to hear it: She could absolutely be an asshole when she wanted to be.

 

Tisha put on a gold necklace and rings on her fingers and put on her brown Air Force ones to match her outfit. Her mom and pops would tell her she was showing too much skin, but they would honestly be arguing with a brick wall. Because Tisha was going to do what she wanted. She had the records to prove it. The many times Tisha has been in and out of jail, she would have made any other mother give up. But it wasn't because Tisha liked fighting; she was the type of sister to fight Nalae's battles because she constantly stayed bullied. And Tisha wasn't going for that shit.

 

So her parents won't be mad at it. They were taught to look after each other, and their mom told them that violence wasn't always the answer. But that concept came in and out of the window when it came to disrespect.

 

She walked out of her room and went into her cousin's room, saw both of them in there, and told them to come downstairs. They figured Nae was already downstairs. They walked into the dining room and helped with whatever else their mama needed help with.

 

Their mom cooked smothered fried chicken, collard greens, mashed potatoes, and a peach cobbler. Oh, and honey-butter corn bread. We can't forget that.

 

There was no cooking better than their mom's. Their pops can throw down too, especially on the grill; ribs were his specialty.

 

Tisha and Nae told them to behave themselves. They rolled their eyes and nodded. A knock on the door stopped what they were doing, and Nae anxiously checked herself while their mom went to get the door.

 

She opened the door to see two of the boys holding flowers and the other holding wine. She introduced herself and welcomed them in. The light-skinned boy said his name was Marcus and gave her the flowers from his uncle, saying he couldn't make it. She took no offense to it and told Marcus to say thank you for the flowers. And the dark-skinned boy said his name was Caine and handed her the bottle of wine.

 

She gave them a big smile and told them to follow her into the dining room. When they walked into the room, the smell of the food hit their noses. Marcus and Caine shook their hands and were told to sit down at the table.

 

Marcus looked at Nalae and smiled at her. She looked so beautiful; he swears that every time he sees her, he notices something new about her. He thought she looked beautiful with her hair flat-ironed. And he couldn't help himself to stare at her figure in the dress; to him, she had the perfect amount of body. Slim waist, but she had a small amount of chub in the stomach, but he doesn't mind that. She had wide hips and thick thighs. But Marcus didn't just want to fuck her; he had actual feelings for her. And it seems they were getting stronger every day.

Marcus and Caine's outfit

Nalae looked at Marcus and thought he looked so fine and handsome. His smile gave her butterflies. Her feelings for this boy continued to grow day by day. He was smart, funny, and ambitious, and he made his own music. He told her that was something he was really passionate about. Just everything about him drew her in.

 

She wondered why his uncle didn't come with him; maybe he wasn't feeling well. But it was sweet of him to get her mom some flowers. That made her smile. She looked back at Marcus and smiled at me, causing him to smile softly back at her.

 

Caine looked at Tisha and thought she looked sexy as hell. Tisha was tall, slim-waisted, and had a big ass. Caine was 6'9, so he could still look down on her. Tisha was all dat; they've been talking for a couple of weeks, and they have almost everything in common.

 

He noticed Tisha that day when she and Anthony dragged Lamar away, mad that he was hanging around them. So the next time he saw Mar, he asked him to let him holla at his big sister, and Marc gave him her number. She didn't want to give him the time of day at first, but he kept bugging her, and she caved in. She told him if he wasted her time, she was going to cut him.

 

But since that day, they have been talking every day. Hanging out every other day, he just hasn't met a girl like her before, and to say she was already his and didn't know it was an understatement.

 

Tisha smirked at Caine and saw how fine he looked. They had been talking for some time, and if she was being honest, she genuinely liked him. And that's saying sum, because no nigga or bitch could give her feelings.

 

Tisha wasn't the relationship type. But to her, Caine was different. He was smart, funny, and nonchalant; he was overall cool and collected. And her favorite thing about him was that he matched her sex appeal; that man was freaky. They matched each other's personalities well. But what she enjoyed was that they had real ass conversations about their future, and she liked that.

 

-Time Skip-

 

They were an hour into dinner when Marcus and Caine introduced themselves to the family. Marcus told their mom that both of his parents were dead and that he now lives with his uncle. He told them he was the only child and that he hustles.

 

Caine told them that his father was killed by police brutality. He has two younger sisters and one older brother. He also said that he hustles on the side with Marcus to help support his mother. He graduated high school early, and he and Marcus grew up together.

 

Sonya tells them both that she does not judge or think lowly of them for what they do, but that she understands they do it to survive.

 

But she also told them that when people hustle, it's to better themselves, so once you've made enough money for yourself and your family, you and your family should leave your environment so you can live a better life.

 

 

Because, even if there are people who enjoy street life, the majority of them do it to better themselves for their future. So don't waste your time trying to be someone you're not.

 

 

Through the meal, Marcus and Nae exchanged glances and flirted with each other a little. But it was harmless; they were in front of her parents. Sonya asked Marcus about his date with Nalae, and he said he took her to have dinner with him and his uncle.

 

Sonya teased him, saying, "Oh, you were making sure your uncle approved of her, huh? Had to make sure she was up to par." She said, playfully crossing her arms. with the rest of the table agreeing. Marcus chuckled and shook his head, saying, "Something like that." Eating some peach cobbler and complimenting Sonya on how good it tastes

 

"So did he approve of her?" She asks him. Marcus looked up from his plate and looked around the table as they stared at him, waiting for an answer. Marcus looked at Nae, gave a sincere smile, and said, "Yeah, he did. He said he liked her. And to bring her over again." Nalae gave a shy smile and told Marcus to tell his uncle, Thank you for having her over.

 

Marcus picked up his glass, staring at Nae, and said, "You look so beautiful; thank you for inviting me." Nae's face got hot, and she told him he was welcome to come over any time. Sonya looked at the two and smiled, thinking they were cute. She looked at her husband, who stared at Marcus and Caine with a stotic expression; he ain't said but a few words the entire dinner.

 

But that was his way of figuring them out.

 

Caine had also said that Tisha looked beautiful and that he liked her outfit. Tisha wasn't too fond of the word beautiful; she didn't mind it, but she knew that wasn't the word Caine wanted to use. So she said, "I know that ain't what you wanted to say. You can say it. I look fine, don't I?" She questioned him, and the table busted into laughter. Except for her daddy, who glared at the girl.

 

When dinner was over, Marcus and Caine volunteered to help with the dishes, but Sonya said it was ok that Ant and Mar were going to do them. Sonya gave Marcus and Caine leftovers to take home to their families and extra cobbler. Marcus got a call saying that he had to leave, but he enjoyed his time. He walked over to Nae, who looked at him shyly and gave him a hug.

 

He smelled so damn good, he lifted her lightly off the ground, causing her to giggle. He placed her down and kissed her cheek, telling her he'd call her later. Caine went to hug Tisha and tried to kiss her cheek, but she smushed his face away, scrunching up her face, calling him ugly.

 

"Yeah, ok, I'll call you later." He said, smiling, walking to the door. Sonya walked behind them and thanked them for coming. She held out her arms, giving them a small smile. Marcus gave her a small hug, taking in her warmth. It's been a long time since he's felt motherly love, and if he was being honest, he liked the feeling. She let go of him, cupped his cheeks, and told him to be safe. She hugged Caine and did the same action, also telling him to be safe.

 

She opened the door, and Caine was the first one to walk out. Marcus felt a tug on his jacket and looked to see that it was Nalae. She went to hug him again and kiss him on the cheek. They stared into each other's eyes and slowly leaned in and kissed. It only lasted a minute before he mumbled that he had to go and that he'd call her later. He gave her mom another smile and walked down the steps to his car, where Caine was waiting.

 

Nae stood at the door, waved bye to them one last time, and watched them pull off.

[cerebralinvasion]

cold, soft, warm.

trigger warning: graphic self harm

summary: reader is having a tough night and stumbles across dazai, the two lament, and enjoy a bittersweet night together

pairing: dazai x reader 

words: 1k

you shivered pressing the cold blade against your arm. you paused, not quite ready to dig in. but after sucking in a deep breath you did what you always did. cut. the sharp bite caused your body to spasm once more. no matter how many times you did this it seemed you never got used to the feeling. the soft flesh parted easily. it was like a hot knife to butter. and the red spilled out. warm and thick. pouring over the sides of your arms and onto the bed below. meeting the other parts of the sheet that had long since been stained a muddy red. tears slipped down your face and your mouth formed a shaky grin. the hollowing feeling that had been gnawing at you twisted. and was replaced by a sick enjoyment. the implicit urge to feel pain, to suffer. because that in itself is better than nothing.

it hurt. less on the outside than on the inside. but that’s okay. the tears felt comfortable on your cheeks. when was the last time you’d cried? it had to be weeks, or months. but maybe it was yesterday? you couldn’t recall. though to you it seemed you hadn’t felt a thing in years. but that didn’t matter. because you feel now. it hurt, and it hurt beautifully. the smell of iron lingered in the air.

the blood was dried now. the liquid had formed itself into ugly black blotches across your arm. stiff and uncomfortable. you scratched at them. watching as the flakes fell below you. you kept peeling off the blood until you opened the wounds again. and more blood spilled out. once again dripping across your arm and to below you. it wasn’t a surprise, but you always had a hard time telling when the wound had sat for long enough. to predict when you could clean off your arm and allow the scars to settle. it had clearly not been long enough.

sighing you pushed yourself up from where you rested on the bed and grabbed a roll of gauze. you layered the bandage around your arm three times before you decided that was good enough. you shoved your phone and keys in your pocket before awkwardly shuffling out the door.

the night air was crisp when you left your apartment. the one generously provided by the armed detective agency that you probably weren’t grateful enough for. the metal clang was deafening as your steps pounded down the stairs. it had to be past three in the morning. what were you doing? you should go back to your room. you shouldn’t do anything stupid. you should just go to sleep and hope you wake up feeling better in the morning.

but you knew that wouldn’t happen. it never did. if it did, then every day wouldn’t be worse than the last. if it did you probably wouldn’t slit your wrist in an attempt to have some semblance of normalcy. but you did. and things didn’t get better. so you continued your way down the steps.

you don’t know where you’re off to. you didn’t know where you were headed until you arrived. a bar. of course. you figured that you shouldn’t even be surprised at this point. unhealthy coping mechanisms are all you seem to know.

approaching the familiar counter you slump down on one of the stools. it’s empty. as expected for this time of night. the usual bartender was methodically wiping at the smudges of a glass. he didn’t ask what you wanted. he knew it might be a while of hanging around before you even ordered anything. he always was patient with you. it was nice.

“wow, not even gonna say hi?” 

you whipped your head around in the direction of the noise. you were sure it was empty just a second ago. but then again, you weren’t really paying that close attention. it was very possible you had just missed the presence.

“oh… hey dazai.” 

you tried your best to force a smile onto your face. it was awkward and didn’t fit. a poor attempt at covering the underlying sadness. obviously it didn’t work. dazai slid into the seat next to you.

“you're looking lively.” his voice dripped with sarcasm.

“your bandages. they're fresh.” you spoke bluntly. pointing to the clean bandages peeking out from behind his clothing.

“so are yours.” the fake smile slipped off his face. he stared you dead in the eyes as he spoke. because you wearing clean bandages could only mean one thing. and you knew what that meant. and he knew. and you knew he knew.

you grinned. a hollow smile. a cold and empty, misshapen expression. a look more associated with the shadow that you were than any functioning human.

“guess we’re matching then.” 

dazai’s cold expression stayed for only a moment longer before that too gave way to a broad, boyish grin. his smile seemed so much more real than yours. but you knew it wasn’t. maybe it was the fact that you were particularly drained tonight. or maybe he’s just more practiced at the skill of faking normality than you. but under the yellow light of the bar, he almost looked human. almost. at the very least, he looked more human than you.

“well how about that? two empty shells. matching empty shells.”

“sounds like a good enough reason to toast to me.” you grinned at the bartender and like that he was pouring out the same drinks you and dazai got each time you came here. the regular, so to speak.

your heart was still cold by the end of the night. abandoned and empty. but leaning into him, you found dazai’s hair was soft. comforting in fact. you picked up the glass taking a drawn out sip of alcohol. allowing the liquor to warm your insides. you weren’t happy. he wasn't happy. and both of you would probably never be. but maybe that was okay. because when you pressed this close to dazai. maybe that was good enough for you. 

[deedah]

Protocol Chapter 6

⚠️!WARNING!⚠️— This Fanfic is very lengthy and lazy at times! Do not read if you dislike lengthy Fanfics! (Also a lot of fluff so BE WARNED!) 

Please read Chapters 1-5 before this one to understand what is happening

Have a great ride!

Chapter 6

[L]= True]

    L grabbed a cup from the sink as they wrapped a damp-ish washcloth around the wine glass and dried the water off of the cup before tossing it up in the air and watching it spin before catching it and sitting it down on another towel upside down. She looked up to her right to see her brother pick up the cup and use a step-ladder to put it in the cupboards. On L’s other side, to see Max washing the dishes.

    “Soo.. why did you bring 3, most likely have rabies, animals into the house?” L asked Max as the 12 year old human kept on washing dishes.

    “Because they're cute..?” Max replied as she looked up and smiled with her eyes closed. “You know JC Jenson is trying to make all dogs immortal, why not all cats and birds?” She asked as she waved her hands around dramatically.

    A tiny bit of soap landed on L’s visor. Her visor started to glitch as she gave Max the ‘are you serious..?’ look she could give someone.

    “L,” L’s brother said as they turned around to face him on her other side. “You're not waterproof.” He wiped the water off of L’s screen with a towel. Soon she resetted a part of her glitching code, rolled her white eyes, and went back to drying the dishes that Max had now stopped washing. 

    “And you,” he pointed to Max, “need to stop waving your hands in the air with soap on them.” 

    “Sorry D, and L” Max said as she put another cup on the counter for L to dry. D was really only a babysitter to Max, at least, that was the reason that Max’s parents gave C and L when they got him. Though he was an older model than L and C, he treated them like his little sisters, so they called him their older brother. Though, he would rather be called Max’s ‘bodyguard’ (he thinks it sounds more menacing).

    “You're fine, Max.” D started, “but hurry and get these dishes done. Your parents told us to finish them before they got home”

    Max looked up with a stubborn look, “but they won’t be home for another..” she looked at the clock to read the time, “2 hours. We have time, chill” she grabbed the last cup in the sink, washed it, and flipped it in the air as it landed on the towel as it waited for L to dry it. 

    L noticed after she picked up the last cup to dry it, that C was nowhere to be found. (Or the animals).

    “Hey Max,” L said as she looked up the stairs, “Have you seen C?”

    Max’s white eyes looked confused, she turned to D who just shrugged and started to climb the step stool. “She might be with the animals up in my room, or on her charger. No clue, but as long as she’s not scheming something like putting glue on the bottoms of my shoes so I trip when I get ready for school!” Max yelled as she splashed the water in the sink when she slammed her hands down and she stared at L. She was mad for a second before she started to laugh and wipe her hands off with a towel.

    “Haheahehah..” Max laughed as she rolled her sweatshirt down, “seriously, don’t do that again..” 

    L rolled their eyes playfully as Max lightly punched their arm. 

    “Oh, Max,” D said, “I ironed your dress for tonight. It’s in your parents room.” D wiped off the extra water off the counter with a towel. He then grabbed all the towels and walked out of the kitchen and headed to the washing room.

    “I’ll go put on my dress,” Max said as she headed towards her parents room, but before going in, she turned towards L, “why not go check on C. She’s been in my room for a while now. Thanks!” She disappeared behind a door frame.

    Now L was alone. Now, she sometimes likes to be alone, but other times she would like some company even if the company didn’t want her.

    L walked up the stairs as they held onto the railing. Her suit stretched as she lifted her leg one after another. Once she finally got upstairs, she walked towards their room and lifted her fist to knock on the door. But, her sensors picked up a voice that wasn’t C’s. 

    “You’ll see me in the near future,” the voice said, “and you’ll see N and Uzi in the further future.” L decided that she was just going to barge into the room so they couldn’t prepare to hide from her.

    L opened the door to see what was going on, but it seemed normal. C was holding the cat in her lap as it slept, and the dog and bird were chasing each other. “Oh..” L said as C turned her head round to face her with a confused look. 

    “Yes L?” C asked. The cat looked up at L, but it had its eyes squinted. L looked at the two other animals. Their eyes were also squinted. Though L could see that the cat's eyes were a green-ish, the dog’s were..gold..? And the bird’s was… purple!?

    What is wrong with these animals, geez.. L thought as she started to speak. “Just came to check on you,” L said as she closed the door. L stood there with a discombobulated look on her face as she thought about what just happened.

    She snapped out of her trace when she heard the front door open quickly then slammed shut. Before she went down the stairs, she heard the voice again from the room. 

    “Shoot! More humans!” But this time the voice was different, it was female, just didn’t sound like the first one.

    “What do we do!” A male voice called out.

    “Uh!” The first female voice yelled, “C! Throw us out the window!!”

    “Bite me!” The second female voice yelled at the first voice. “I’ll fly out the window! I’m a fricken bird!”

    “Won’t that kill you!?” L recognize that voice, that belonged to C. Either C had amazing vocal ranges, or the animals could talk.. And both choices had very small chances. 

    “We’ll be fine! Toss us!” The first voice called out as she yelled out one last time before simultaneously being thrown out the window.

    “Come on N!” The second female voice said as she must have flown out the window as well.

    “Man you're heavy, Doggo..!” C strained as she must have been trying to pick up the dog. She heaved a sigh of relief when the dog started to yell. 

    Don’t question it L.. shes probably playing..? L thought as she walked down the stairs. She walked into the kitchen where Max’s parents, Max, herself, and D were. They walked beside D who was beside Max as they began to listen to what Miss. River and Mr. River had to say.

    “Max, get your suitcases together and pack everything you can fit in there, honey” Miss. River said with a sad look on her face. 

    “Mom! Just tell me what’s happening! Why do I have to pack my suitcases!?” Max yelled at her parents.

    L leaned over and looked at D with hollow eyes. He shook his head and looked at the Rivers.

    “Sweet pie, we will explain. Let’s just get your stuff together.” Mr. River said as he held his shadowed hand out. 

    Max swatted at his hand and started to demand, “No! Tell me what's going on! Where are we going!?” 

    Miss. and Mr. River looked at eachother with deep and sad eyes before Miss. River started to talk.

    “It’s more like.. where you're going..” she said as she kept explaining. “We are sending you to an exoplanet. The company has made many escape pods for people because they have detected a dangerous AI on earth, a zombie drone to put it, but they just don’t know where.

    “They made one for us, but.. we have decided to stay and send you instead.. you may take your drones with you, one of our friends' family will look after you until you're 16 and can work for the company. They will give you a house and supply you with food and clothes.”

    Mr. River turned towards D, “You will still be her babysi-“ 

    “Bodyguard. She needs me now more than ever..” D stated. Mr. River nodded his head.

    Max leaned into her parents as they wrapped their shadowed arms around each other in a tight embrace. 

    L saw C standing in front of the stairs with a bewildered look on her face and tears in her eyes. D lowered his head in respect and L.. L’s vision started to glitch. 

    Everything kept glitching as the glitch turned purple then a teal color. 

    L was in darkness for a second before booting her vision up again.

    L was now in a pod with D, C, and Max. Max was looking out of a window, crying and waving to her parents as they stood behind glass and a control table. A guy through the radio started to count down from 10. Once he said 1, the pod took off upwards and sent L, C, D, and Max to their brand new home..

    Gold-5..

    L gasped and jumped as she awoke violently from her sleep. As she kept breathing fast, she looked around to see where they were. Once she noticed they were in Uzi’s room, she started to calm down.

    “Wow” a voice said from above, “it was that bad? Glad I didn’t go in then,” 

    L got onto her knees as she looked up to see V sitting on the bed with N laying on her shoulder. L also noticed that V most likely put pillows under L, C, and Wren while they were in her and C’s memories. 

    L shuddered, I didn’t want to remember that pod moment.. she thought as V held out a can of oil. L jumped as she noticed that V wanted her to take the cup. 

    L took the cup even though she didn’t need to drink oil unlike V, N Uzi, and Wren. V gave L a slightly sympathetic look before patting the bed.

    L noticed that V wanted them to sit beside her, so L stood up, switched out her hand for claws, yanked the hacking device off of her head, and sat beside V.

    They took a sip of oil as they looked at V. “He fell on my shoulder when I sat on the bed, no comments..” V stated, “You gonna be ok drinking that?” V asked L, “I heard that you don’t need oil, but you looked like you might want to try it.” V smiled as she took another sip out of the red can. She leaned back as she chugged the rest of the oil. N’s head and body fell into V’s lap. The contact must have scared V a little because she jumped as she lifted her other arm above N.

    “Aw..” L said as N just layed there unconscious as he must have still been in the memories, and V started to rub his hair as she took off his hat and set it beside her, “He’s kinda cute when he’s asleep. I see why Uzi likes him.” L said as she took another sip of the hot oil. V was right, L did need something warm to soften her anxiety right then.

   L looked over at V who was covering her visor. L pulled down an arm thinking she was overheating. Oh! L thought as she saw blush lines on V’s visor.

    “This um..” L started as V looked at them with the blush fading, “might be a little personal, and if it is you're allowed to punch me. But.. Do you like him?”

    And with that, V blushed harder as she turned away, punched L in the arm, and turned her head down to look at him. 

    She shook her head slowly, “I can’t..” she mumbled.

    “Sorry?” L asked.

    “I.. can’t..” V looked at L with tears in her eyes.

                              [Next Chapter Comes Out When It’s Ready] = True]

(Just a few more chapters @biscuits-and-such and @roxy4life.. then, y’all come..)

Chapter 1

chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

[letshearitforthespacedads]

Twin Flame - Pt 6 Golden Slumbers

Being Steve Harrington’s twin had its perks. Okay, there were a lot of perks to being a Harrington. One downfall though was somehow getting involved with a group of Pre-Teens with a knack of finding trouble, a girl from the Hawkins Lab with superpowers, and whatever the hell just came out of Jonathan Byers’ wallpaper?! God, you were just trying to get through your Senior year. Who would have expected the biggest surprise of the year would be falling for Eddie Freaking Munson.

CW: Playing it fast and loose with the timeline baby, Twin!Harrington, gratuitous use of the devil’s lettuce, me pretending I know anything about drums, even though Steve dresses like a sailor reader has the mouth of one, not Beta read, SPICE there’s spice here, Minors please advert your eyes and hit the road–this one isn’t for you, tried to write reader as GN! as possible.

Gif not mine. Credit goes to the creator ;)

Tap, tap, double tap, oomph, crack, tap, tap. The sound from your drum kit echoed the walls of your bedroom. You paused, twirling your drum stick between two fingers. Your mouth was open as you breathed heavily, catching your breath in between the small break in the song you were playing along to. Your headphones fitting snug over your ear, the cord barely able to keep its connection to your record player from across the room.

Break over.

You slammed both sticks down onto your snare, hitting along to the beat. Head rocking along to the beat, you continued your assault on the secondhand kit. You banged along to the crescendo on the hi-hat. You hadn’t noticed Steve entering your room, hair tousled from sleep and pajama bottoms caught under his heels as he was wiping the remnants of sleep away from his eyes. You also didn’t notice the pillow he had carried from his bedroom, that was until he flung it full force into your face.

You fell back from your small stool, flat onto your back. A crash cymbal knocked over by your foot ironically narrating your fall.

“IT. IS. 8. AM. YOU. PHYSCHO.” Steve yelled.

You stood up slowly from behind the kit, unharmed but pissed. You locked eyes with your twin, “Run.” You warned before rushing over the kit and pursuing your already retreating brother down the hall. “I’m going to KILL you.” You yelled after him. Both of you hurrying as quick as your legs would take you down the stairs straight into the kitchen. Steve might have had longer legs, but you had unadulterated anger pumping through your veins.

The two of you met again at the kitchen counter, both of you poised on either side ready to duck left or right in either flee or chase.

“I was banging on the wall, for like an hour—you made me do this.” Steve said, his eyes never leaving yours as you both circled the counter.

“That doesn’t mean you have the right to assault me, Sime ball.” You growled, taking a lemon from one of the many fruit bowls on the counter and chucking it hard at his head.

He easily dodged it, “Assault? Get real. It was a love tap.”

“I’ll show you a love tap asshat,” You spat lunging to the left. He lunged right and the chase was on.

“TWINS,” A yell stopped you both just as you had managed to snag a piece of his sleep shirt, yanking him back towards you. Your hand was raised mid punch heading towards his stomach, his own arms raised to defend.

Your mother was standing in the living room dressed in a neon yellow leotard accented with hot pink sweat bands and sky-blue tennis shoes. She was staring daggers into both of you as you had interrupted her morning Pilates. “I am in the middle of something, if you’re going to play, take it outside. I need to concentrate.”

“Mom,” You began to loosen your grip on Steve who took the opportunity to lunge out of your reach and across the living room.

She cut you off immediately with a finger resuming stepping along to the instructor on the TV. “Outside.”

You rolled your eyes before looking back towards Steve. With eyes narrowed you dragged a finger across your neck and then pointed at him mouthing the words ‘You’re dead.’ You quickly turned your heel and stomped back upstairs to your bedroom. Slamming the door shut, sure to lock it behind you. You stood your cymbals back up and walked back to your record player. Picking up the needle and placing it back to the outermost part of the record you secured your headphones back over your ears and sat back down on your now right-side up stool.

One, two, one, two, three.

You began tapping on your snare. Iron Maidens ‘Run to the Kills’ basting through your headphones as you played along. Eddie was right. This record was hot. Red hot. You couldn’t wait to tell him you could keep up with Clive Burr, hell you were positive that in a few months you could be better than him.

You honestly couldn’t wait to see Eddie again. Couldn’t wait to talk to him. Couldn’t wait to kiss him. Not like the two of you had done much other than kiss the last time you had seen him. Had it really only been a few hours since he had dropped you off way past curfew? Not like your parents had noticed.

He had taken you for burgers and games at the arcade. Followed by a show at some dive outside of town that didn’t ID and had ended with the two of you in the back of his van kissing and smoking and giggling for hours. Not even the horrors of what lied under Hawkins Lab could damper the power of teenage hormones.

You had reluctantly peeled yourself from underneath him in the early hours of the morning, knowing you couldn’t fight the sunrise for much longer. Your lips were swollen and felt chapped, and God were your panties soaked. You had secretly wanted him to take your fooling around to the next level, but Eddie ever the gentleman had kept everything over the jeans. You could feel the way he was straining against his own denim, but he never asked for more than your lips and neck. As you exited the back of his van he pulled you in for one last kiss, cupping your face in a way so tender your heart skipped a beat. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” He said, his hands squeezing your hips.

You smiled and leaned in for one more kiss. “I can’t wait.”

You had barely slept before the sun was up and your mind was racing with thoughts of Eddie Munson.  You thought drumming would help and it did until Steve’s interruption. You had finished the song, and the record started playing another, but you suddenly didn’t feel like drumming anymore. Your eyes drifted to your phone, and you wondered when he would be up and call. Throwing yourself back on your bed, you kicked your feet up in frustration. In that moment you decided, crushes are for the birds.

[just-a-geeky-therapist]

Don't Mess with Tataru

As the sun neared the horizon, the two returned to the building, smells of roasting meats permeated even the top floor as J’asper’s mouth began to water. Thancred, noting the miqo’te’s ears suddenly standing at attention, chuckled. “Tataru, as scrupulous as she is in money keeping, is equally skilled at filling our bellies,” the white-haired rogue said, wasting no time descending the stairs towards the common room.

J’asper’s hesitation lessened as time progressed, finding it easier to walk alongside Thancred rather than behind him. Having been around Thancred off and on for several summers now, the miqo’te wasn’t surprised when Thancred snuck up behind Tataru and plugged a piece of what looked to be carrot, earning a woeful squeal from the lalafell who turned on her heels, admonishing not only Thancred, but J’asper as well. “If you two cannot behave, you’ll be waiting outside until dinner!” she scolded, cheeks growing slightly red.

“Aww, lighten up, ‘twas only a carrot!” Thancred pushed back. He took his jest a step further when he patted her on the head. It didn’t take a one with much social prowess to see the deepening furrow of her eyebrows or the stark contrast from the earlier frustration which now turned to rage, causing J’asper to quickly step away from the situation entirely. He knew he’d be safer watching from a distance. 

Remarkably, Tataru appeared to regain her composure. “Thancred…” she hummed.

“Yes?” Thancred inquired with notes of suspicion on his voice. 

“Let me tell you a secret,” she said smoothly, ushering for him to lean down to speak in his ear. To J’asper’s utter disbelief, the white-haired rogue did just such, leaning down, defenses lowered. Without hesitation, Tataru reached out and grabbed Thancred’s ear, holding with an iron-grip only being realized by the yelp that sounded from Thancred’s throat. “I’ve warned you before,” she started, stepping off of her step stool and beginning to drag the rogue out of the room. “J’asper, be a doll and watch the stove,” she said, breaking stride only long enough to look back at the baffled miqo’te. “I’ll be right back.” With that she hastily made her way towards the ascending staircase, slowed only by the lumbering rogue who awkwardly attempted to keep stride while more than bent over, letting little yelps and grunts out as she maintained her hold. “If I see you again before dinner, it’ll be Minfilia taking the trash out!” she scolded, out of sight, but still audible. 

J’asper couldn’t help but laugh as he stirred some kind of stew, making sure it didn’t burn. Once he heard the door shut again, he braved a glance towards Tataru as she came back to the kitchen. “Thanks luv,” she said, sounding quite delighted. 

“I… never expected Thancred to fall for something like that…” J’asper said as he stepped away from the stove. 

“Me neither, but ‘twas effective regardless,” she hummed. “Now… though you may be a guest, if you’ve any funny business, I’ll not hesitate to drag you out similarly - and I need not worry about your ears,” she said, making obvious she was eyeing the miqo’te’s tail. J’asper couldn’t help his tail involuntarily wrapping around his waist as though to keep it out of reach.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, feeling like a scorned child in the kitchen - even though he’d done nothing wrong. Suddenly feeling out of place, he ventured back to the common area, selecting a seat where he attempted to settle in, feeling restless without Thancred to help break the tension, but otherwise happy to be off his feet for a while. It didn’t take long before he heard the door open again, realizing Thancred was sneaking back inside. 

“Thancred!” came Tataru’s shrill voice. “I may not be able to see you, but I can hear and smell you! Keep out of my kitchen!” she scolded preemptively, J’asper doubling over as he fell into laughter. And with that, Thancred’s ruse was up and he stepped from the shadows, ear still red from the earlier assault and cheeks equally colored from the manhandling he’d received in front of J’asper.