#it was a piece of shit that broke down a year and a half later lmao

[wickedhawtwexler]

weird commentary time but marie's little blue beetle was theeee dream car to me when i first watched breaking bad

[formulaforza]

hi mack !! may i request a fluffy blurb with ‘gazing at them from afar because they're just so...’ for carlos? thank you !! <33

—when you're ready pairing: carlos sainz x female reader wc: 800ish summ. in which, carlos has never been able to keep his eyes off his best mate's pretty friend.

To the people that know Carlos, there are three constants in life: the sun sets in the west, summer follows spring, and Carlos is pathetically in love with his best friend’s friend. Ask anyone who knows Carlos, except you—his best-friend’s friend. 

You, who, at least tonight, are too preoccupied by the shots on the bartop, the game of darts Lando needs to lose, and the split ends of hair at the ends of your carefully woven braids, to notice Carlos. Carlos, and the way his eyes seem to find you even when he’s not really looking, who waits to laugh at his own jokes until you begrudgingly crack a toothy smile, who notices the little piece of glitter that’s perched on your eyebrow. 

It wasn’t always like this, he used to carry a certain level of subtlety, the ability to deny accusations without burning bright red and spewing half a dozen piss-poor excuses like a flustered boy on the schoolyard. It wasn’t always like this, not when he saw you for the first time, caught your eye and exchanged a smile with who he’d assumed was his teammate’s girlfriend. You were sat on your phone beside a sleeping Lando, who was curled up on the common area sofa. Your legs were long, crossed over each other beyond the hem of your dress. Your eyelashes were longer, watching him hurry past you. His first thought in regards to you was that Lando was a lucky fucking bastard. 

His second thought in regards to you, upon a proper introduction later that day, was that Lando is a fucking idiot for not managing to bed his “friend since primary school, or something.”

And that was the relationship you’d maintained for two years. Him, on his side of the garage, with his girlfriend. You, on the other side of the garage, not Lando’s girlfriend. Two years of short dresses over long legs he couldn’t touch and long eyelashes he couldn’t stare at. For two years it went like that, and then he signed a contract with Ferrari and he broke up with his girlfriend and he and Lando only seemed to get closer. 

And, to be close with Lando was to be close with you, which is when you became so much more than something he wanted to touch, a prize he could never win. 

It was easy to fall for you. Easy like breathing, like blinking, like letting hot water run down your back. It was easy, when you would instigate the shit-talking about Lando’s golf swing, the same way it was easy when you would steal a drink of his beer and let him spin you around a mutual friend’s backyard wedding—you wore your hair down that night. He still remembers the way the wind spent the entire evening blowing it into your face, into his face. It danced on its own, moved separately from everything else about you. He spent half the night wondering if he was drunk enough to grow a pair and tuck it behind your ears, and the other half wondering if you were tipsy enough to let him.  

Tonight, like all the other nights, he watches you. You down a shot after every round of darts, even though the original bet you’d made with Lando was that the loser needed to take a shot. The deal solidified with a firm handshake was tossed out the window by both of you after two shots each. His eyes follow you, your hand—freshly manicured nails and two sparkling rings—bringing the shot glass to your lips—soft and plump and the perfect shade of pink. He watches as your head falls back, hair falling from your shoulders, necklace shining in the barlight, the clear liquor disappearing from the glass. You wince, turn down the chaser, and call Lando a pussy when he downs a matching glass of crystal light. When you set the glass back on the bartop, even across the room, he swears he can hear the thud of the glass. It makes him shudder, snaps him back to reality. 

When you’re back in front of him, laughing at some undoubtedly stupid joke Lando had told you, you’re pointing a finger in his direction. “You—” you laugh harder, voice impaired by the smile that misshapes your lips. Your fingertip pushes into the middle of his chest. “You’re not drunk enough.”

 He laughs, throwing his hands up in surrender. “And what are we gonna do about that?”

“You,” you say, pushing your finger against him harder, and then removing it all together to bury it in your own chest, “and me. Loser—you,” you laugh “—has to take three shots.”

Carlos nods, holds out his hand to shake on it. “Deal.”

“Really?” You smile, like you thought he’d say no to you. “Okay, deal. I’m totally going to kick your ass, though.”

[bloatedandalone04]

One Missed Call

➪the one where bradley hasn’t won a match since you left him, and he finally decides to break his promise to himself.

Warnings: boxer bradley, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, descriptions of injuries, mentions of fighting, swearing, bradley is kind of a dick in this ngl, angst all the way, could have another part if i get inspired (just watched bleed for this and i need an outlet), probably the quickest piece i have ever written, so sorry if it sucks

Word Count: 2k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Six time champ, Bradley Bradshaw, faces his fifth loss since getting back into the ring,”

That single sentence played on repeat in Bradley’s head as he sat on the couch of his living room. 

His best friend rushed around him as she tried her best to patch up the mess his opponent made of his face an hour or so ago. Her hands held multiple blood stained towels and her face was twisted up in concern, but he didn’t pay her any attention as he watched himself get the shit beaten out of him on the TV screen. 

“You shouldn’t be watching that right now,” she muttered as she wiped away a fresh stream of blood rather roughly. He winced, his mind instantly comparing her harshness to the way you used to clean him up much more gently. And now he was thinking about you again, and how fucking disappointed he made you. “You might have a concussion, and the screen will fuck with your eyes.”

He grunted as she stuck a white bandaid on his left temple. “Enough, Nat,” he grunted, gently pushing her hands away from his face. “I’m fine.”

She glared at him as she stood to her full height. “You’re fine? Bradley, you haven’t been fine since Y/n left. You haven’t won a match in months. And you think you’re fine?” 

He narrowed his eyes at her, a scoff leaving his mouth afterwards. “Whatever, mom,”

Nat laughed humorlessly as she tossed the towels onto the coffee table in front of him. “Okay,” she muttered, grabbing her bag and bending down to press a harsh kiss to the bruise that formed on his cheek. “Let me know when you locate the guy who isn’t a grumpy prick. That’s the version of you we all miss. I’ll text you tomorrow, if I feel like it.” They both knew she would, whether she felt like it or not. 

And then she left and Bradley was refraining from throwing the remote directly at the TV screen. His face ached beyond belief, and he knew the trash talking he did in between punches did not help his case as that guy really did a number on him. 

In a way, he felt like he deserved to feel more pain than he did right now. He knew this was nothing compared to the amount of pain he put you through, and he wanted himself to hurt just as bad.

He watched himself take the final punch of the night that had him down on the mat within seconds, and how Hansen Carpenter lifted his hand in victory and grinned as if he won the lottery. 

Congrats, man. You beat Bradley Bradshaw. You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last, so take a fucking chill pill. 

Bradley scoffed again and turned the TV off, tossing the remote aside and leaning back against the couch. As he sat in the quiet house, his mind betrayed him as he began to think about you again. 

How he had managed to fuck up the best thing in his life, he’d never know. 

You really were the only thing he had going for him other than his career and title, and he let you go without a fight. It was his fucking job to fight, yet he couldn’t even do it for you. 

The house felt empty, even though you had only been living with him - officially - for about three months before he broke up with you. Despite being with you for nearly five years, you hadn’t decided to move in together until around half a year ago. 

You practically lived with him, anyway, but it was official for only a few months before he let himself get too caught up in his own head, which later resulted in him taking it out on you. 

Really, he was a coward. He never jumped at the countless opportunities he had with you, and instead put all his focus on boxing. 

Oh, there was a high chance he could win within the first five rounds? Sign him up.

Someone was betting half a million dollars on him? Tell him a time and place. 

You wanted to take the next step and put a downpayment on a house together? Maybe sometime within the next few years or so.

He really didn’t deserve you, and it was a wonder how you put up with him for half a decade. 

Bradley looked down at his phone that was on the couch beside him, and without thinking much of it, he grabbed it and held it between his sore fingers. He didn’t need to scroll far to find your number since he hadn’t changed you from his top contact yet, and he probably never would. 

When you walked out and left him in this exact room all those months ago, Bradley promised himself that he wouldn’t call you or try to win you back. If you couldn’t understand him and his career choice, then you clearly weren’t the right girl for him.

But he knew you were. You are the right girl for him, but he was too hung up on his own ego to actually try to get you back. And now he feared he was too late.

He was already feeling embarrassed, so why not go all the way? 

He clicked on the call button and brought his phone up to his ear, waiting what felt like a lifetime before he was forwarded to your inbox. 

Of course he got your voicemail. He wasn’t expecting you to actually answer him, so he wasn’t super disappointed that he was met with your sweet voice asking him to leave you a message. 

And, God, was your voice sweet. It was probably the sweetest sound he had ever heard in his entire life, and it matched well with your overall personality. You were far too kind for your own good, and had been way too understanding with him throughout your relationship. 

Though he really wanted to, he couldn’t blame you for leaving, especially since he practically forced you out the door. 

Bradley looked ahead at his beaten and bruised face through the screen of the TV, and he felt as pathetic and worn out as he looked. “Y/n,” he mumbled after he heard the obnoxious beep that indicated he should probably start talking before the call hung up itself. What did he have to lose? “I miss you, babygirl.”

He had no right to be calling you right now, nor did he have the right to be saying that he misses you when he’s the reason you’re gone. 

But he was selfish. He always had been when it came to you.

He wanted you to support him and didn’t care much for your concerns about his well being. He wanted you there and in his corner at every single match and wasn’t fazed by the way you cowered away every time he took a punch. He wanted you all to himself, but never gave you the time of day when he really needed to get his act together and progress his relationship with you. 

Bradley was selfish before you, while he was with you, and now after you. 

You were right. He will never change. 

“I fucked up tonight, again,” he muttered as he looked down at the blood stained towels in front of him. His mouth tasted like metal and he could smell the rustic scent of copper every time he inhaled, and he truly could not believe how much of a mess he is. “I really thought I could win this one, but you know how I talk out of my ass whenever I’m in that ring, and I did it tonight.”

He wasn’t sure what he was hoping to get out of this, but the thought of you maybe listening to it was what had him continuing this embarrassing show of emotions. 

“I told this Hansen guy that he fights like my old man, and how he’s dead, and then I got my ass handed to me,” he grunted, rubbing his sore nose and wincing at the sharp pain he felt because of it. “It was going fine before that. I went eight rounds straight with the guy before he fucking floored me, and all it took was me thinking about you.”

He felt like a complete loser for admitting this, but it also felt easier to be open with himself when it came to you. It had always been like that, and he was fucking stupid for thinking he could find someone better than you. 

Truly, there was no one else he wanted other than you, and he’s known that pretty much since the day he met you, so why couldn’t he swallow his pride and fight for you instead of with you was another thing he’d never know.

“One single thought about you and I got too into my own head to realize what was going on around me,” he shamelessly informed you of the hold you still had, and probably will always have, over him. “I think about you all the time, baby. All the fucking time. You should’ve been there tonight. You should’ve been there last time. You should be here right now. But I know why you’re not.”

His face burned from both the impacts of Hansen’s gloves and from the way he was getting caught up in the thought of you. 

Everything reminded him of you. Even this exact couch held far too many memories with you to count. The amount of nights he spent with you on these very cushions had him shifting uncomfortably as he tried to push away those thoughts.

He didn’t even deserve to be talking to you right now, let alone thinking about all the ways he’s gotten you off on this old and worn out piece of furniture. “I know it’s my own fucking fault, I know that, but it still fucking hurts,” he laughed and pressed his arm against his abs that were just as sore as his face. “The amount of fights I’ve been in, the amount of hits I’ve taken, none of them compare to how much it hurt to lose you. How much it still hurts.”

While he wasn’t one to cry at all, Bradley felt his eyes beginning to burn as he replayed the exact moment you left him, as well as the exact words he said to you. 

“I know what I told you, okay? I know what I said. I was wrong, babygirl,” he rasped, curling in on himself as he tried to find the right words to say. “I didn’t mean it. I should have never told you to leave. I should have never yelled at you. I feel so bad, baby, all the time.”

He moved to lay on his side, his cheek pressing against the armrest a bit uncomfortably, but he didn’t care. This was the first time he allowed himself to really get it all out since breaking up with you, and he hated how he couldn’t find the courage to actually say all of this to you in person. Not that you’d let him, anyway. 

“I want you back, Y/n,” he finally admitted to what he’s been too full of himself to say out loud. “I want you so bad. You were my girl, baby. You were so good to me, and I fucked it up. I miss you so much, and I promise you I’ll do better. I’ll be better for you, I swear, just please…come back to me.”

He ended the call after that and tossed his phone onto the table next to the towels he would definitely have to throw out since no amount of cold water and bleach could save them. 

Bradley felt beyond pathetic now, but it was nothing compared to the feeling that took over his body when he woke up the next morning, still on the couch, and with a single notification on his phone. 

One Missed Call from My Girl. 

[kinardsevan]

Fuck-it Friday

Remember what I said about mindsets? I’ve been thinking about this scene in my head for weeks, and finally managed to get it written out last night. We’re still AGES away from this chapter being done, but have a morsel of the next chapter of it’s gonna be alright (piece by piece) (aka aneurysm fic).

“Hi my love,” he whispers to him.

Evan doesn’t respond, but he does tug on Tommy’s arm until he manages to get him to move it, and then grabs his wrist and shifts his hand up until it’s resting on his chest, broad and warm. Tommy smiles down at him, watching briefly.

“That feel better?” He asks. “You want a heating pad?”

“Jus’ you,” Evan whispers back, letting his eyes flutter shut again for a few moments. Tommy leans forward and kisses his forehead, and then pushes the call button for the nurses station.

“That’s a nice sentiment, but a heating pad would be more sterile,” he replies.

When the nurse enters, Tommy apprises her of the situation, and she’s in and out in a few minutes, returning with a heating pad fairly quickly. Evan whines again when Tommy moves his hand away, but settles quickly when the heating pad gets rested on his chest.

They’re still in the same position—Tommy brushing his fingers through Evan’s curls while he rests—when the door opens again. Maddie enters the room with Phillip, and Tommy glances up at them with Evan’s gaze following.

“Hey,” Evan rasps from the bed.

Maddie and Phillip exchange a look, and the frustration on Maddie’s face is palpable. Evan glances back and forth between them and then over at Tommy, who is just as confused.

“What?” Evan asks.

“Tell him,” Maddie states to their father. Tommy straightens up in his seat. There’s something about the tone of Maddie’s voice making his need to protect Evan kick in.

“I talked to your mother this morning-..”

“No,” Tommy states firmly.

“Look-..”

“I said I didn’t want her here,” Evan rasps, his brow furrowing in irritation. He glances over at Tommy and then back at Maddie and Phillip.

“Buck, she’s worried-..”

“He flat-out said you that he didn’t want her here,” Tommy counters, trying to keep his emotions in check. He’s ready to scream, but he knows well enough that this is not the place to be having that argument.

“She’s his mother-..”

“She told me that I’d been corrupted by Tommy,” Evan argues. “That I was sending myself to hell if I decided to stay with him. She’s not welcome here.” He’s leaning up off the bed now, just slightly, but Tommy can already see the pull in the wires running in and out of him.

“Baby,” he warns. “Wires.”

“Buck, she’s worried-..”

“She doesn’t get to be worried!” Evan growls at the older man. “She wasn’t here when shit went to hell at work for three months. She didn’t give a fuck when I broke my wrist last year and had to have surgery then. She showed up in town at least half a dozen times to visit Maddie, Chim, and Jee-Yun, and didn’t call or text me once. But because it’s something she feels bad about, I should make room for her? Why? Why is everything about her?” 

“Evan-..” 

“Hey.” The doors to the room are open, and Dr. Tomlin is standing inside of them, looking around the room, all but glaring at Phillip as he takes in the scene. “Brand-new, fresh out of heart surgery. Stress is not fucking good.”

Evan nods, anger still present on his face. “I want you to leave,” he states toward his father.

“Buck-..”

“He asked you to leave,” Tommy counters. He glances over at Dr. Tomlin, and then back at Phillip. “Unless you’d prefer for us to call security.”

Phillip looks around at each of them, and Dr. Tomlin’s hand is already on his phone, ready to make the call, even though his gaze is locked on Evan’s heart monitor, watching for signs of distress. A few seconds later, Phillip huffs and steps out of the room in the space between Dr. Tomlin and the door.

“I’m so sorry, you guys,” Maddie states before following after them.

Evan glances between Tommy and Dr. Tomlin. “Don’t let him back in here.”

“He won’t be,” Dr. Tomlin confirms.

[freckledjoes]

Munson mornings

Friday - March 21st, 1986

It was one of those rare days where Wayne had worked an afternoon shift, meaning that he had had plenty of sleep before he sat down at the kitchen table in their trailer. He knew it would take Eddie about an hour or more before he'd wake up from his slumber, probably grasping at some honey combs before he'd rush out the door, mumbling something along the lines of "Missed first period, what's new." with his mouth still full. Wayne would then look at the crumbs on the doormat and consider that a task for another day.

However, today was a different day for both Munsons, it seemed, as Wayne heard Eddie trashing about in his room, loudly complaining about being unable to find something, much earlier than he was used of him. At one point he let out a happy yell, meaning that he'd probably found what he was looking for, and then possibly stubbed his toe in excitement, judging by all of the swearing that immediately followed after. His door opened, the bathroom door following and not much later Wayne could hear the shower.

Seeing as his nephew would probably have considerable time to get to school, he figured he could make them some eggs on toast, a little treat right before the weekend. It wasn't until Eddie stepped out of the shower that he realized that Wayne was home.

"You're home? Why aren't you asleep?"

"Afternoon shift."

"Oh. Eggs?"

"If you wanna."

"Sure. Can you—"

"Already done it."

Wayne had prepared Eddie's plate just how he liked it, with the eggs cut perfectly to fit on the toast, and the other bits on the side so he could eat those as a "snack". Eddie got dressed first, left the towel around his neck for his dripping curls and added a tiny bit of eyeliner to his eyes. As Eddie sat down, Wayne could immediately tell he was excited about something by the way his features contrasted his usual morning expression drastically. That meant four options.

One: He had a date (unlikely)

Two: Some kind of good drug deal coming up (possible, but Eddie usually didn't really talk about that stuff around his uncle)

Three: He had a gig (it wasn't Tuesday)

Four: Anything related to his D&D campaign (bingo)

"Those little shits have no idea what's coming," Eddie said with a slight evil grin right before taking a bite of his toast, groaning at the taste of it.

"Campaign night?"

"Uh-huh. I've got the dungeon all set up. There are so many traps, but there are two things that could help them out if they know where to look. Dustin will probably try but I bet Mike's gonna rush them into their deaths without blinking. Him and probably Gareth. See, there's this, let's call him "demon guy" for your sake, and he's gonna be waiting right here," Eddie grabbed some dry crackers that he wasn't planning to eat and used them to lay out a part of the dungeon map he'd been working on the past few weeks. Wayne followed his movements, watched how Eddie broke tiny pieces off the crackers to emphasize that one bit had a rounded corner, and stacked some honey combs to show the position of "demon guy" while also popping a few of them into his mouth as he explained further.

Eddie went on and on, eggs on toast almost forgotten until Wayne wordlessly nudged his plate so he'd remember and would take a bite out of it in between. Wayne watched him fondly, cherishing the light he recognized in Eddie's eyes, a light that seemed a rare occurence nowadays. He hoped that graduating would work out this year, so Ed could stop beating himself up about it. Maybe he could get himself a job as a mechanic, he seemed to like working on his van. Or perhaps something backstage, with lights or music, so that he could be involved in that industry even if he hadn't made it big himself just yet. Wayne knew he was meant for big things. He had the drive for it, just needed the confidence.

"Wayne? Are you listening? This part is crucial."

"What did I tell ya about chewing with your mouth open, boy?" Wayne sighed half-heartedly as crumbs landed everywhere on the table. Eddie gave him an apologetic smile (full of food) and tapped impatiently on a piece of honey comb that now represented a summoning circle.

"So this is where..."

Wayne didn't mean to, he really didn't, but he lost track the second Eddie started talking. Maybe being distracted was a Munson trait, who knew. He smiled fondly and took in all his gestures, enjoying the quiet morning with his nephew who was the opposite of quiet. It was nice, having him around. It always had been, even throughout puberty where he hadn't always been easy. He would always be his boy, a young man ahead of his old man in many ways.

As Eddie finished his breakfast and went back into his room to grab his stuff for the campaign that evening, Wayne decided he should ask Eddie about the campaign the next day. He couldn't wait to see hear how his clever nephew made those kids twist and turn. Eddie was a great storyteller, and his own story was only just beginning.

—

This was a vague idea that popped up in my brain, which I shared with @stevesxyellowxsweater, basically thanks to Joseph mentioning a dinner scene (I think it was dinner? I'm forgetful - anyway I turned it into breakfast) between Eddie and Wayne would've been nice.

It's a little painful, in retrospect, but that's the duffelbags' fault not mine :)) Anyway hope you like? I rarely post writings sooo yeah.

[ebongawk]

"Baby, baby, baby," Eddie practically shouted as he kicked his way into the apartment. Chrissy jumped from her curled up position on the couch, the book in her hands nearly launched across the room.

"Oh, my God," she laughed breathlessly, laying a hand over her heart. "Eddie, Jesus."

"Sorry," he said, not sounding particularly apologetic at all. "But you will never guess what I found at the store!"

He was holding up a paper grocery sack like it was a trophy, having dropped three other sacks when he barged in, and Chrissy's eyes darted between it and him incredulously.

"Groceries."

"Har, har." The grin still stretched over his cheeks made his sarcastic laughter almost genuine. "No. Well. Yes, but." With a flourish, he tore the paper bag away, revealing another plastic bag beneath. Chrissy blinked at it.

"Chicken nuggets?"

"Dinosaur chicken nuggets!" he shouted, evidently very pleased with his discovery. "The most epically childish thing in existence! One hit of these is guaranteed nostalgia!"

Pursing her lips around a grin, Chrissy shrugged. "I've never had them before."

Eddie looked at her for a long moment. The expression he wore when he wanted to wrap her up in a blanket and coddle her, which slipped into his eyes every time she admitted something sordid about her own childhood.

Instead, he just grinned, his eyes twinkling.

"Oh, sweetheart. You're in for a treat."

...

Two hours later, the oven was just finished baking their costumed chicken.

Eddie and Chrissy were also just finished baking.

She was sitting on the couch again, relaxed and riding the buzz of their shared joint as Eddie set a plate piled high with nuggets on the coffee table. Adorned on either side by ranch dressing, buffalo sauce, and barbecue sauce, he traipsed across the living room to load Predator into the VCR and plop down beside her.

"Dig in, sweetness," Eddie said, easy smile and red-rimmed eyes half-focused as he fast-forwarded through the movie previews. Chrissy leaned forward, plucking the nugget off the top as Eddie grabbed a couple and dipped them into various sauces.

Chrissy stared at the little nugget in her hand.

It was clearly a stegosaurus. The ridges on its back like fish scales and the curve of its spine made it easy to identify. It was ridiculous, how some tiny fried piece of chicken could take on the form of another animal, wasn't it? Even if that animal had been extinct for millions and millions of years. And the stegosaurus would never know that humans created a little snack to emulate its visage. They would never know that humans existed at all.

"Chrissy?" Eddie asked, his mouth half-full of her little stegosaurus's friends. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Her eyes suddenly blurred, and Chrissy let out a hitched breath.

"Oh. Shit. Sweetness." She could feel Eddie's hands on her shoulders, trying to turn her body toward him as she held that tiny little chicken nugget in her palm. Staring at his grainy little body even if she couldn't see him. "Baby, are you okay? Are you having trouble with this kind of food right now? I could make–– Well. Uh. I don't know if I can make anything, but––"

"He's just––" She broke off with another sob, thrusting her hands toward where she assumed Eddie's face was to show him the stegosaurus. "He's just so cute, Eddie! Look at him!"

She couldn't see Eddie through her tears, but she felt his hands squeeze her shoulders once, then twice, as she ran her fingertip over the tiny breadcrumb ridges of the stegosaurus's spine.

"Chrissy––"

"He doesn't even know that he's edible!" she cried. "He's just trying to live his little dinosaur life and be adorable!"

Eddie laughed, bodily pulling her into his arms until she was tucked up against his chest.

"Oh, baby girl," he cooed, rocking her back and forth. "He is pretty cute, isn't he?"

"Yes," she pouted. "He's just–– He's just a baby, Eddie! I can't eat him!"

"He's an herbivore, y'know? He was gonna get eaten in the Jurassic period too. You're just playing your part in the circle of life."

"I'm not a t-rex!" Chrissy retorted, unable to keep from crying harder. "And h-he doesn't deserve that! He's too cute!"

Eddie's laughter rumbled against her, bubbling up from his chest and tucked into her hair. Affronted, Chrissy looked up at him.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"No, princess, no," he said quickly, his nose scrunched up in humor. "No, it's just–– Baby, he's just a nugget. He's not even a real stegosaurus."

"I don't care," she huffed around her own laugh, looking down at the little nugget in her hand. The tears had begun to dry on her cheeks, and she nuzzled into Eddie's chest as she continued holding the stegosaurus close.

"You're literally too adorable for words, Cunningham." She felt the tell-tale sign of lips pressed against her crown as Eddie slowly stroked his fingers up and down her spine. After a moment, he let out a long sigh. "Should I put our reptilian friends away and order a pizza instead?"

"Yes," Chrissy replied, still pouting a little. "We can't eat them, Eddie, they're just babies."

A finger came up beneath her chin, gently tilting her head back until she had to look up at him. Those chocolate eyes she loved so much danced with mirth, lips twisted like he wanted desperately to conceal his smile. Which he was doing a poor job of.

"We'll see how you feel about it when you're sober," he acquiesced. "For now, how does pepperoni and hamburger sound?"

Chrissy grinned, leaning up to kiss him in lieu of an answer.

[seongminiz]

mine / yours

first installment of Oh Distant You

minors dni ; dilf!minhee x fem reader ; 1540 words

warnings read The dilf!minhee post first or this wont make a lot of sense , fem reader , not specified age gap but around ~10 years , manipulation , cheating (not on reader) , minhee is a piece of shit omg , more angst than smut , idk if this counts as dubcon but reader is so emotionally vulnerable/unstable n he takes advantage of it so it might , manipulative minhee , unprotected sex , dacryphilia , chocking but not rlly , daddy kink , not proof read , the ending was half assed

permanent taglist @elifseasonz

note its 3am i need to go to sleep just manipulative dilf minhee i fawking love u (yes this is unfortunately named after a wilbur song , i now hate him but the title was too good to change it god bless)

manipulative mf [sighs dreamily]

previously to the events of that post , when you first started hooking up with him it wasn't an exclusive thing, it just kind of happened, at some point you even stopped seeing each other and kind of went your own separate ways. minhee went back to his life as a 'good' husband and you tried seeing other people, finally finding someone else you were interested in romantically.

minhee would've never admitted it, but he was so jealous - to him, you were already his, and the idea of you messing around with men that aren't him and could never be on his level pissed him off.

you could do better. and that better is, of course, him.

long story short, the person you were seeing eventually broke your heart, leaving you distraught and with no idea of what to do. somehow, that brings you back to minhee, showing up at his doorstep on a rainy night looking for a comfort you know he could never give you.

minhee, on the other hand, knew you would be coming back sooner or later, which is why it doesn't take long before you're being pushed into a spare bedroom, your lips never leaving his as you try to ignore the painful clenching of your heart. maybe, if you repress it enough, the heartbreak will go away. maybe.

after all, you're jumping from one miserable situation to another. from someone who led you on, convinced you to finally give a chance to love, only to drop you after a few weeks because he 'wasn't ready for a relationship yet', 'didn't think you would actually get this far' and 'stopped seeing you romantically after a few dates'; to someone who didn't even bother to lead you on, give you the illusion of any romantic feelings, because he knew there was no need to bother, you would come back to him anyways.

the whole time minhee is fucking you he has one hand over your mouth to keep you quiet because you don't want his wife - who's peacefully sleeping in the room right next to this one - to hear you, do you?

he keeps saying how much better off you would be with him instead of some random guy your age who doesn't even know how to treat you right - as if a married man keeping you as his side piece and getting a power trip out of how dependent you are on him is any better, but he's already fucked you too dumb to realize that, and hes basically drilling all of that into your mind (just like hes mercilessly drilling his cock into your cunt) to make sure you'll keep coming back to him and him only.

he doesn't care when you start crying more - whether it's for pleasure or for the emotional state you're in , you don't know it either. minhee notices when he feels the tears running down on the hand he's still keeping over your mouth. your moans have died down by now, reduced to a bunch of pathetic quiet whimpers every time the tip of minhee's cock roughly hits your cervix.

still, he flips you around, if you want to sob your heart out on his cock you might as well give him a show of it. and he's not disappointed by the sight: your makeup smudged and faded out because of all the crying, the way you look at him like he's the only person that matters in the whole world and spread your legs silently begging him to put his cock back in.

you bring one of your hands to your mouth to bite your nail in a subconscious show of uneasiness - be it because of the sudden absence of minhee's body from yours or yet another show of your emotional state - and if it wasn't for the sexual nature of your situation minhee would almost find this and your big, pleading eyes endearing. albeit reluctantly, in that moment minhee has to admit to himself he has somewhat grown fond of you, of your little quirks and habits that he barely sees in the midst of sneaking around with you.

but deep down, minhee also knows he loves all of this for a way more fucked up reason: your vulnerability makes him feel powerful.

being on top of you like this, having you at his complete mercy makes him realize he's completely in control, he has you in the palm of his hand and he has no intention of letting you go.

he wants to see more of this, more of you crying for him, being so dependent on him you're reduced to nothing but a nonverbal mess by the time he's done with you.

'so pretty,' minhee whispers as he pushes his cock back into you, one hand gently wiping your tears - the soft touch of his smooth delicate skin a stark contrast with the way he immediately starts fucking into you at a merciless pace again.

when in your fucked out state you manage to form one coherent thought, trying to be as quiet as you can, you start begging minhee to leave his wife because he'd be so much better off with you, you can give him what she never could…

minhee has to suppress a smirk. of course he would never leave his wife, his marriage might be falling apart but he has certain appearances to keep up, a reputation to maintain. what would people say if they divorced out of nowhere, just for him to be seen with a girl at the very least ten years younger than him?

still, if that's what will keep you coming back to him, making an empty promise is no harm - at least to him. he nods, brows knitting together as you clench down on his cock impossibly tighter, bringing him closer to his high, closer to coming inside of you like he always does. but something feels different this time, as minhee pushes your legs to your chest and listens to your moans getting louder by the second, knowing there's no way his wife hasn't found out by now.

‘daddy i'm about to-’ the words die in your mouth, half interrupted by a higher pitched moan and half by the realization of the words that just escaped you.

minhee slows his place down and you take that as your cue to start apologizing profusely. more tears well up in your eyes, you try to tell him it was an accident, you didn't mean to actually call him that, all while minhee pulls his cock out of your still clenching hole until only his tip is left inside of you.

if you weren't so focused on apologizing, maybe you would've noticed the way his cock twitches with every weak disconnected sentence you try to formulate. but you don't, utterly surprised and trying to suppress a scream as minhee slams his whole length back into you, bottoming out as one of his hands wraps around the base of your neck without applying any pressure.

‘say it again,’ minhee commands, thumb absentmindedly stroking your collarbone in a way that could be almost read as boredom if it wasn't for his dick being completely buried inside of your cunt in this exact moment.

you bite your lip, trying to find the strength to oblige, but it's like your brain has been emptied out and your voice has suddenly disappeared.

your pleading eyes, though, are nothing to minhee, fingers softly pressing around your neck ‘come on, don't make me repeat myself,’ it almost sounds like a threat, punctuated by a harsh thrust that finally rips a moan out of you, along with the word he so badly wanted to hear from you.

minhee has to hold back a moan of his own when you do, suppressing any further sounds by busying his mouth with your neck and chest, leaving marks all over it - ‘just a reminder of who you really belong to,’ he'll tell you later. to you, it's an even crueler reminder: you're his, but he'll never be yours.

you can only pretend he is, as you beg minhee to let you cum and for him to come inside of you, your body twitching in waves of pleasure as his orgasm follows yours quickly after, the feeling of his warm cum shooting deep inside you leaving you willing to go for another round.

you know you can't, though. just like every other time, you'll sneak out of the guest room and through the exaggeratingly big house, silently shutting the front door behind you as the feeling of guilt starts to make its insidious way inside of you.

you'll go home, take a shower, and promise to yourself you'll never see him again, you'll never answer his calls or texts or show up to his doorstep.

never.

you're a hypocrite, but a part of you feels better knowing you're not the only person who's acting like one.

you'd be almost at peace with it, if everything around you wasn't a constant reminder of that same, devastatingly simple fact that has been roaming around your head since that night.

you'll forever be his, but minhee will never be yours.

[rat-typewriter]

hi! i hole you’re doing good! when you get the chance can you do high school aged baseball player bill de brought x fem reader who plays softball headcannons? thank you!

Notes: Girlie im so sorry this has been in my inbox for like a year,,, but better late than never right???? also im not american so i have no clue what a softball is so this is based off of ten minutes on wikipedia

BaseballPlayer!Bill Denbrough with a SoftballPlayer!S/O

alrighty,,, so first off your school only has one pitch - so Bill first sees you while getting ready for practice and your team is finishing up training

Honestly he spots you straight away - not necessarily because you're any better than the rest of the girls, but because of how you cheer your teammates on any time they make a good hit

He finds it so endearing, seeing someone so openly kind and genuinely excited for their friends

Not to mention he thinks you're probably the prettiest girl hes ever seen but whatever

But he's s u p e r awkward so wouldn't actually work up the courage to talk to you for a couple of months

BUT THEN

it's late afternoon in May; he's waiting with his team for practice and your team is finishing up again

you manage to hit the ball into the chainlink fence and it jams into one of the gaps

now,,, your team has a strict "whoever touched the ball last has to go find it" policy (which has left you digging through bushes of brambles on many occasions) so there you were, half on tip-toe and half straight up CLIMBING the fence to try and reach the stupid ball

you could hear your friends laughing across the pitch and (although you loved them to pieces) you definitely shot them a few death glares

One time you turn and stick your toungue out at them, playfully shouting for them to fuck off

and when you turn back, you nearly jump out of your skin

lo and behold on the other side of the fence is the CUTEST boy you've ever seen, reaching up and pushing the ball back through

and when he looks at you with those blue eyes

asafsghadssdhj

let's just say you don't catch the ball when he knocks it out

you stare at him and you can feel blood rushing to your face

internally you're screaming at yourself to stop gawking at him like a weirdo and SAY SOMETHING

if the fence wasn't between the two of you, the space between you would have been too small to be socially acceptable

honestly you're both so awkward you probably would have just stood there forever, but sooner or later his team would notice him with a girl

"Shit, Bill's got game!"

the entire group of boys suddenly broke out into laughs, jeers and whistles

needless to say Bill was mortified

mind you,,, your friends were no better

every time you saw him after that, they would all start giggling and nudging you like maniacs

don't get me wrong, you love your friends to pieces,,,, but you could have killed them all

you occasionally bumped into Bill a few times after that: around school, sometimes in town - but your first proper conversation was while sitting on the grass outside school

Your team was practicing, but you were in trouble with the coach for flunking a maths exam - so she was making you sit out to study for this session

you stared at you maths textbook - lets be real, not really thinking about anything - when he came over

"M-maths, huh?" he asked, craning his neck to read your notebook

"Yeah," you smiled. "Gotta say though, it's just not adding up."

why in the world did you say that

seriously

worst joke ever (not me slandering a joke i literally just wrote down smh)

But it was the first time you had managed to make him properly laugh

he grinned and your soul more-or-less left your body

you chatted for a while after that, him helping with a few questions

but mostly just messing around and laughing

it was only when your coach shouted to you that practice had ended twenty-five minutes ago that you suddenly snapped back to reality

"Oh shit," you gasped, stumbling to your feet; shoving the book into your bag. "I gotta get home"

He stood with you, helping to pick up your pens and papers

"Sorry!" he smiled sheepishly (oh god that smile) "I didn't mean to make you late."

"It's not your fault." you grinned

Suddenly you realised, didn't he have practice now? the baseball team always came on after softball ended

you asked him where his team were and his face suddenly reddened and he admitted that there was no baseball practice that day

"Oh I get it," you teased. "You came all the way out here just for me?"

he didn't reply, instead laughing and looking away

oh.

OH.

"wait, seriously?"

he swallowed and grinnef again. "m-maybe."

"Well," You paused. "We should do this again some time."

And that is how you got your first date with Bill denbrough

((You went cycling))

[collapsedglasshouses]

An Angel For Noah || Noah Sebastian x OC [Part 8]

DIVIDER ART WORK BY @cafekitsune

PAIRING: Noah Sebastian x Jules [she/her]

MASTERPOST

SUMMARY: It was everything but easy to get used to this situation for both Noah and Jules.

WARNINGS: ANGST, ANGST, ANGST, swearing, mentions of death, ...

A/N: If you read my post about crying over my writings while my friends are partying... I was referring to this :) do what you want with that information.

TAGLIST: @trvshdxddy @blackveilomens @crimson-calligraphyx @measuredingold @cncohshit @signs-of-ill-portent @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @ada-clarence @wild-child-7747

If you wanna be added to the taglist of this story, please DM me or let me know in the comments!

Keep in mind, this takes place in an alternative universe. Even though I write about real people, the way I write them has nothing to do with how they are in real life.

Not even two hours later, Noah and Jules found themselves awkwardly walking next to each other in a more secluded area of the park they were at. The few people they met seemed oblivious to their presence, providing the two with some privacy for their more than strange encounter.

So, while they walked aimlessly and no one dared to say anything, Jules' mind was racing. She chewed her lip, fearing that she would be torn from the world at any moment. Even though she had never really been told not to show herself to Noah, she felt like she had broken all the rules at once. While she only wanted to calm Noah’s nerves, her actions had led to something far beyond her control and it deeply terrified her.

Awkward tension hung in the air. Noah had absolutely no idea what to say to her and Jules was equally at a loss for words.

“This… is so fucking strange.”, Noah finally admitted, breaking the silence between the two. Jules immediately nodded; her gaze fixed on her trembling hands.

They fell into another strange silence, before Noah broke it again with an awkward question. “So… How old are you?”

Jules couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “What a weird question to ask a dead person.” Noah awkwardly gifted her a half-smile. “I was twenty-two years old before I died.”

Noah nodded a bit while processing her words. He swallowed hard before asking something again, desperately trying to break the awkwardness. “Is it insensitive to ask how you died?”

Jules felt how her heart sunk a little. The thought of her death weighing heavy on her shoulders. She thought deeply about her next words before mumbling. “I got run over by a car.”

With that Noah abruptly stopped walking, turning to face Jules. “Oh shit.” He mumbled. The pieces clicked into place as he remembered the tears running down her face when she had saved him from a similar fate.

For a long moment Noah just stared at her, a heavy silence falling between them, as Noah realized the trauma she had endured. He took a cautious step towards her while she couldn’t quite read what was going on in his head. She saw how he chewed the inside of his cheek before carefully grabbing her hand. “I’m deeply sorry I made you go through this again.” His eyes locked onto hers.

As she gazed into his eyes, she felt a sudden and unexpected rush of emotion. The world around the to seemed to fade into the background, while Jules started to wonder if it was the sun hitting her skin or Noah making her feel that warmth. All she could see was the symmetry of his face, the way his coffee-colored eyes sparkled with guilt and something she couldn’t quite understand, and the gentle curve of his lips. Even though she was looking at Noah at a daily basis, it felt like she had never truly looked at him before and now… In that exact moment… she couldn’t help but marvel at his sheer beauty and even more: The beauty of his heart. She couldn’t believe his words. Noah was apologizing for almost dying because it caused her to relive her trauma.

"Don't say that, Noah. I'm here to do my job," she breathed out, still captured by the soft look in his eyes.

Noah noticed how his heart ached a little when she called this whole thing "her job," but he needed to get his thoughts straight. It was her job. She wasn't here because she wanted it so badly; she was here because she was probably assigned to be here.

Noah let his gaze wander over her again. He had seen beautiful people over the years, but something about her intrigued him. When he was being honest with himself, she wasn't exactly the type of woman he would have gone after, but he just couldn't stop admiring her.

“I just want you to know that I will be more careful from now on.” He stated and squeezed her hand that he was still holding for a short second before letting go of her. He slowly started walking again, while Jules tried to process the scene for a second longer.

Jules walked quietly behind him as they continued their stroll through the park.

She took a deep breath and noticed how it felt like the two of them were in a strange, almost dream-like place. The sun was slowly setting down and its warm, gentle light casted a beautiful glow over everything. The park became even more quiet with little to no people walking around and the sounds of leaves rustling in the wind making Jules feel a bit at ease.

Noah than broke the silence with a reflective tone. “You know… It’s kind of weird,” He began, his voice soft. “What?” Jules asked, intrigued by his words.

“I don’t know you and I wasn’t supposed to… I know I shouldn’t feel this way but being with you… It’s like I’ve known you forever… I feel so safe.” He continued. Jules was touched by his words.

“Maybe that’s how you’re supposed to feel when you’re with your guardian angel.” She answered him, trying to provide some kind of comfort.

“What are you trying to imply?” Noah asked curious. “Wouldn’t it be kinda weird if you felt uncomfortable around your guardian angel?” Jules answered.

“Are you saying I’m not in charge of my own feelings?” Noah teased her, causing Jules to cover her face with her hair as she noticed the warmth of her cheeks.

“Not at all. All I’m saying is that your mind might trick you.” She answered him, causing him to come to a stand once again. Noah, still trying to make sense of the situation, playfully poked Jules on the shoulder, as if to confirm that she was really there with him.

Jules, surprised by the touch, let out a genuine chuckle. "What the fuck?" she said, mirroring his playfulness. Noah laughed in response. "What? You can't tell me my mind is playing tricks on me and not expect me to try and touch you. After all, I was just told I have a guardian angel and said guardian angel is now strolling through a park with me like it’s the most normal thing in the world."

They started walking again. Their playful exchange was a brief but welcome break from the overwhelming strangeness of their situation. However, Jules decided not to reveal her current state of mind to Noah. She simply smiled, her gaze shifting over the trees around them.

“Noah?” She finally sighed out; her voice even more quiet than it had been before.

He looked at her from the side, his eyes filled with curiosity, eager to hear what she had to say.

“I need you to promise me something.” Jules requested with a more serious tone. “What is it?” – “You can’t tell anyone about what’s happening here.”

There was a long pause as Noah contemplated the weight of her words. Keeping this bizarre experience a secret would be a significant challenge, but he understood the implications of sharing it with others. Finally, he nodded and said, "I promise. The boys would probably think I'm losing my mind and send me to a psychiatric ward anyways, so yeah... I promise."

Jules chuckled softly, her laughter mixed with a hint of sadness, as the gravity of their situation weighed on her.

“I like your laugh.” Noah than stated, causing Jules to blush a little. Every word he said to her felt like a rush of adrenaline. She knew it was wrong to let her emotions occupy her mind that much, but she felt the need to be a little selfish. Noah made her feel alive, and she knew it would be over soon.

The end of their spent time was nearing when they reached the edge of the small park. Hesitantly they stood in front of each other, both not knowing what to say again. The tension started to form again when they realized, it was probably the last time they ever looked each other in the eyes.

When their eyes locked, both of them felt that rush again and without even thinking they fell into each other’s arms. For Jules it almost felt like her heart was going to explode, the mix of the comfort and sadness washing over her. She felt how she teared up.

Noah, on the other hand, wasn’t feeling any different. He held Jules so close to him, fearing she would vanish into thin air at any moment. He let his emotions get a hold of him and almost cried out. “Please don’t leave me, Jules.”

Jules almost felt how her heart broke a little. She wanted nothing but to stay in Noah's arms but she knew she needed to leave. She tried to say something but her words just didn't want to come out. Instead her lips trembled as her hands grabbed the fabric of his hoodie harder. She didn't have the strength to leave. Not now that she had him this close. It felt like she was addicted to his touch.

"I beg you. Please stay." - "You know, I can't."

Right then she felt Noah shift in their embrace, his head placed in the crook of her neck. The spot became damp. He also was crying quietly.

"The day isn't over. You promised me a day, Jules." He mumbled into her hair as she stroked his back. She couldn't talk, fearing she would break down.

"Please, Jules." Noah continued. "I'm sounding like a fucking idiot. I don't even know what has gotten into me but please. Come to our concert tonight. Just watch it. I need you to be there."

"I need to go, Noah." The girl cried out and tried to get out of their hug even though she didn't want to.

"Promise me." Noah pleaded but suddenly felt a cold rushing through him as he realized he was slowly beginning to hug himself.

And with that...

Jules was gone.

[vintagebunnies]

flowers in december

part i

singledad!eddie munson x teacher!fem!reader

fluff, angst, eventual smut, mutual pining, strangers to lovers, slow burn, mdni (3.4k)

It’s Blythe’s first day of preschool, she has a difficult morning which effects eddie. But then he meets you.

no warnings for this part! just a whole bunch of fluff and very slight angst! (reader is referred to as ms. honey just for the sake of this fic <3)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

the first day.

The soft pitter patter of small sock clad feet echoed throughout the trailer. Eddie was frantically chasing his giggling toddler around, trying to get her to sit still so he could fix her curly, unruly hair.

“C’mon Bly, if you let me do your hair I’ll let you have a cookie before we leave!” Eddie was stressed, trying to gather up his five-year-old for her first day of preschool. Blythe stopped in her tracks at hearing the word cookie. Turning around, she went straight for Eddie’s leg, barreling into him, making him stumble backwards.

“That got your attention, huh?” Even though he felt a bit frazzled, he couldn’t help but smile at his daughter looking up at him with chubby cheeks and her big doe eyes. She inherited a lot of his features, fortunately.

“Cookie! Can I have cookie?” Blythe had Eddie’s pant leg in a white knuckled grip, her chubby little hands grasping onto him tightly. “After, you’ll get a cookie when you let me do your hair.” Eddie bent down to pick her up, cradling her on his right hip, holding the brush and hair ties in the opposite hand.

Moving from the kitchen to the living room, Eddie seated himself on the old sunken in sofa, placing Blythe right in front of him.

Blythe was immediately distracted by the box tv in front of her, currently playing a rerun of ThunderCats.

Eddie was able to quickly put Blythe’s hair into two neat little braids before she became restless. “Okay Bly, you can get your cookie now.”

This caught Blythe’s attention immediately, she turned around to face Eddie, giving him a big toothy smile. Her smile made Eddie smile, giving her a kiss on the crown of her head. Blythe took the opportunity to be an absolute menace, and pull on Eddie’s hair that was halfway draped over her. “Cookie!”

“Hey—ow—you gotta let go of my hair if you wanna cookie,” Eddie breathlessly laughed out, lightly grasping her hands and pulling her off. “Let’s go get you your cookie, you little gremlin.”

Blythe raced Eddie into the kitchen, waiting with her hands on her hips and giving him an impatient foot tap. For a little toddler, she had a lot of fire in her, always keeping Eddie on the tips of his toes.

Eddie broke off a half of the chocolate chip cookie, handing her the smaller half. Blythe was not having it, she furrowed her brows looking up at Eddie with a pout. “Where’s the rest of my cookie?”

“Bly, that’s too much sugar for this early in the morning. You’ll get the other half later,” Eddie imitated her little scowl. “No daddy, I want it now! I want the cookie now!” She stomped her foot, still holding the piece of the cookie in her hand.

Eddie got on his knees to be eye level with her, putting both of his hands on either side of her head. “You’ll get it later, okay? Pinky promise?” Eddie brought his pinky out in front of her, Blythe still donning a pout, brought her smaller pinky into his.

She shoved the cookie into her mouth, getting crumbs all over her rosy cheeks and chocolate on her face, stomping into the living room and climbing back onto the couch.

Eddie stood up from his kneeling position, knees popping from the tension. He glanced down at his watch, eyes almost bulging out of his head from the time. “Shit—Bly, we gotta go honey.” He ran into the living space, quickly shutting the tv off.

“No! I’m not going.” Blythe yelled, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning. Eddie was quickly gathering up all of her stuff, opting to just put her shoes on in the car. He threw her little sparkly backpack over his shoulder.

“Blythe, please. We need to leave,” In reality, they needed to leave ten minutes ago, but time wasn’t a thing with a child anymore.

Eddie absolutely adored Blythe with all of his heart, she was one of the only people he genuinely loved. She was the light of his life. But sometimes, being a single parent is hard, especially since now the trailer was going to be dead silent for the rest of the day. No soft mumbles from Blythe playing with her toys. Just silence.

Eddie knew Blythe wasn’t going to budge on her own, so he just scooped her up off the couch and making a beeline for the heavy steel front door.

Blythe was crying and kicking, trying to get out of Eddie’s grasp. Tears streaming down her face, she yanked on Eddie’s hair, making his jaw clench from the sharp shooting pain.

Eddie didn’t want anyone in the trailer park to wake up from all of the commotion, seeing Blythe crying and in distress would create another rumor about Eddie around the small Hawkins community. Even though she was obviously well taken care of, the people in the town still despised Eddie and would do anything in their power to try to frame him for something that was false.

Blythe let go of Eddie’s hair, now clenching her tiny fists and trying to fight off her father.

Eddie was able to get her into her car seat, safe and secure. Her little body was shaking with small sobs, face red from the oncoming tears. Blythe truly didn’t understand what was going on, all she knew was that she was going to be away from her dad for too long, not wanting to even be a foot away from him.

Eddie quickly got into the car, the sun slowly rising over the clouds, casting a warm glow over the small town.

Eddie was nervous. Anxiously tapping his hands against the steering wheel all the way there, hearing Blythe’s little sniffles the entire time. She calmed down a bit, but she still looked upset. Her lips pulled into a frown, and with her little eyebrows furrowed.

Eddie’s nerves gradually got worse the closer he got to the school, worried about Blythe being made fun of or not making friends. All he wanted was to give her a decent childhood, something he didn’t have. He tried his hardest on giving her anything her tiny heart desired.

Pulling into the school's parking lot, Eddie got a glimpse of the time. Almost eight minutes late. This was definitely not a good starting impression.

“Fuck!” Eddie whispered to himself but not too quietly, as Blythe repeated a quiet ‘fuck’ to herself in between sniffles. “No, no! That words bad, don’t say that Bly,” Eddie looked at her through the rear view mirror.

Luckily, he was able to find a parking spot right in front of the school’s doors, which were still swarmed by teachers.

Eddie hastily jumped out of the car, aiming straight for the back door. He still had to put Blythe’s shoes on her feet, thankfully they were velcro but it was a bit of a heftier task when she kept kicking her feet.

“Look Bly, they light up!” He tried to distract her, finding anything to put her in a better mood.

“I don’t care.” Blythe’s stare was burning holes right through Eddie’s skull.

Thankfully, Eddie was able to get Blythe out of the car a lot easier than it was to get her in, putting her bag right over his shoulder again, holding her much smaller hand in his bigger one.

Blythe was practically attached to Eddie’s leg the entire walk to the front of the school, keeping his hand in her unyielding grip.

Eddie was getting a lot of sharp stares from the teachers chatting at the front doors, not giving him a welcoming greeting like they did for everything else. Eddie didn’t want to seem cold, so he gave them a tight lipped smile.

Eddie made his way over to the front desk, not quite familiar with the layout of the school.

“I’m, uh, looking for, Ms. Honey’s class?” Eddie kept sneaking small glances down at the crumpled notebook paper with the teacher's name written in scraggly handwriting.

The secretary gave Eddie the directions to the classroom, which luckily, wasn’t so far from the front of the school.

The hallways were crowded with sobbing parents and children, the sound of little giggles resonated through the school, and the sound of shoes squeaking on the multicolored linoleum floors.

Eddie was frantically looking around for the proper room number, navigating his way through the crowd.

He was able to find his way, with Blythe’s hand still in tow. Eddie handed Bly her backpack, putting it over her shoulders and kneeling. “I’ll be back later, ‘kay?” Eddie rested his hands over her shoulders, thumbs drawing idle circles over her biceps.

“Why aren’t you stayin’?” Blythe asked with a sad pitiful look on her face.

Before Eddie could answer, he was interrupted.

“Oh my gosh! Look at how shiny your shoes are!” Eddie and Blythe both looked at the same time, but Eddie was sure it was only his heart that was swarmed with butterflies.

You came out of the classroom, bright like a ray of sunshine. A gold dainty necklace adorning your neck, with a small heart pendant resting against the dip in between your collarbones, a white short sleeve blouse that was decorated in little daisies, and a knee length cream colored skirt swaying with your movement.

“What’s your name, little missy?” You were slightly hunched over, hands resting on your knees, looking down at Blythe.

Blythe suddenly became shy, hiding her hands behind her back and tilting her head to the side, resting on her shoulder.

“Blythe.” She mumbled it so quietly it was almost inaudible, but you were listening so intently you heard her just fine.

“Blythe, what a pretty name for a pretty girl!” Your voice was so sweet and soft, a perfect voice for a teacher.

Your compliment got a smile and a blush over Bly’s chubby little face. Her dimples now apparent.

Eddie couldn’t stop staring at you, he thought you were the most beautiful thing. Next to Blythe, of course.

“Thank you.” Blythe whispered.

“And you must be Mr. Munson, right?” You turned your attention to Eddie now, giving him a warm smile.

“Y-yeah, just Eddie’s fine though,” He wanted to slap himself in the face for sounding so awkward, but he couldn’t help himself when you were treating him and his daughter with so much respect and kindness.

“Well, it’s an honor to meet you!” You held your hand out for Eddie to shake, Eddie pulling himself out of the spell you had him under and shaking your hand back.

“Yeah, um, it’s great to meet you too!” He tried to make himself sound a little less inept.

You turned your attention back to Blythe. “Why don’t you say bye to dad and find a seat?” You were still talking to her with such a hushed voice, not wanting to startle her.

Eddie looked down at Blythe, waiting for her to turn around and give him a lung crushing hug. But when all she did was turn to look at him slightly with a frown, and walk into the classroom, Eddie could feel his heart crack right in half. The smile he had on his face quickly fading, now his face filling with hurt.

He knew she didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, she’d be as right as rain when he’d come by to pick her up later.

You immediately noticed Eddie’s mood drop, putting your hand on his shoulder and catching his attention. “I’ll keep an eye on her today,” You gave him a meaningful smile.

“Thank you, really. She wasn’t too thrilled this morning,” Eddie gave an awkward chuckle, ”disappointed that I didn’t give her an entire cookie.”

You giggled.

Eddie smiled at the sound, your giggle sounded like a beautiful spring morning. Colorful and full of life.

You just explained to Eddie what you were planning with the students today. The way you talked sounded like you reread a script multiple times before today, retelling him everything smoothly.

Eddie and you bid farewell to each other, then Eddie waved to Blythe through the doorway.

Blythe was too caught up in socializing with the other kids to notice.

Even though Eddie was visibly stressed from the morning with Bly, he was content with seeing how well she was doing with the other students so far.

Eddie was able to make his way through the lessening crowd, finding his way back to the parking lot unscathed.

When he got in his car, he felt a lot better than he did this morning. Perhaps it was from you. You were able to lift him up with just a small smile and a laugh.

The silence in the trailer felt never ending, it turned Eddie’s once adequate mood sour.

Blythe’s toys were scattered around the trailer. Eddie had a sudden rush of sadness wash over him from not seeing her shoes sitting by the front door.

But he has to keep on reminding himself that Blythe is getting older, she’s going to be gone more often now.

When Eddie was younger, he’d probably just snuff the idea of having a child. Laughing at it with a ‘yeah right’, but here he was, grieving something that wasn’t actually gone.

The familiar loneliness feeling came back full force though, making Eddie plop down onto the old couch with a sigh.

Eddie was delighted with having a day off today. Not that his job was tough anyways, he worked at the local library. It never got crowded, but sometimes the elderly that came by would ask questions about everything. But like always, Eddie stayed patient with them.

Patience is something he learned over the five years with Blythe.

Jesus Christ, five fucking years.

He still couldn’t believe how quickly the years sped by, how quick he was left to take care of a child on his own.

The only good thing he got out of that was Blythe. God, he absolutely loves Blythe. She is his sun, moon, and stars. His sun on a rainy day. He knows that he’s the same to her.

Eddie was absolutely grateful for you too, though. Even though he just met you, he knew immediately that you’d be someone Blythe would look up to.

He smiled at the thought of you. You were practically glowing when he saw you, an absolute angel.

Your voice was like a sprinkle of fairy dust, and your name matched your aura. Ms. Honey.

Eddie didn’t do much the few hours Blythe was away, mainly just pacing around the trailer, sitting on the sofa staring at the peeling paint on the walls, and gathering all of Blythe’s toys that were dispersed around the living room.

Since Blythe was only in preschool, she wasn’t gone for too long. Maybe around four hours at most, but those four hours to Eddie felt like four grueling years. He didn’t know what he would do without her.

That’s what led Eddie to where he is now, getting ready to leave to pick Bly up from school. Except twenty minutes earlier than he needed to.

Eddie was elated to pick up Blythe, anticipating this moment since the second she was born. Knowing that there was still a full ten minutes before the school opened the heavy front double doors, Eddie was constantly checking to make sure Blythe’s car seat was secured in the backseat. Being a single parent surely isn’t simple.

Now acquiring the habits of a parent, Eddie made sure that everything was perfect. No one ever told him how difficult it would be to raise a child, and definitely not on his own.

The sound of doors opening brought Eddie out of his thoughts, directing his attention to the now open school. He quickly staggered out of his car, strolling over to the few teachers standing at the front.

It seems that Eddie wasn’t the only worried parent with the same idea of leaving early, as a few parents were already trudging over to the school.

Eddie quickly went over to the secretary desk, telling the lady his name and who he was picking up. The school's secretary was a nice old lady. A few gray hairs sprinkled throughout her hair, and glasses perched over her nose.

As Eddie started to walk down the hallway, he was fidgeting around with the chunky silver rings that embellished his hands.

Sure, he was nervous and excited about how Blythe’s first day went, but he was also nervous to see you. He wasn’t worried about you looking down upon Eddie, but he was more anxious over the fact that he just met you and already couldn’t keep you off of his mind.

Heavy combat boots squeaking over the linoleum, Eddie almost jumped out of his skin when he ran right into you. You were peeking out of the classroom to see if anyone had arrived, giving both you and Eddie a good scare.

You let out a slight yelp while Eddie let out a small gasp, then both chuckling about the encounter.

“It’s great to see you again, Mr. Munson!” You smiled.

“Same to you, and please, you can just call me Eddie.” Eddie announced.

“Of course, Eddie.” You tested his name out, it felt right to say. Left a sweet taste in your mouth. You noticed a small blush form over Eddie’s face, smiling slightly at that.

“I’ll let Blythe know that you’re here,” You said before turning around and calling Blythe’s name. Eddie just nodded and cleared his throat while you did so, trying to rub away the blush that found its way over his cheeks.

You turned back to Eddie. “She’s just getting her stuff together,” you voiced. “She had a really good day today, very pleasant to have in class.” You grinned, looking up at Eddie from the doorway, holding piles of binders in your hands.

Eddie was now able to notice the small gold rings that decorated a few of your fingers. It was simple, but adorable.

Eddie was abruptly thrown out of the trance you had him in, Blythe came barreling out of the classroom with her hair all frizzy, and her backpack thrown over her shoulders haphazardly.

“Daddy!” Blythe ran right into Eddie’s leg, giving him a big squeeze.

“Hey, sweetie,” Eddie took Blythe into his arms, hugging her close to his chest. Blythe buried her face in his neck, wrapping her chubby arms around his neck. “How was your day?”

“So good, I did finger paint!” Blythe moved away from her spot on Eddie’s neck, showcasing her multicolored stained fingers. She had a huge smile from ear to ear, her eyes were almost closed.

You stood in the doorway watching it all unfold, beaming at the sight.

Eddie definitely looked scary to most, but moments like these made it seem all just a cover up. From the moment you saw Eddie, you knew he wasn’t how the town liked to make him out to be. Of course you’ve heard rumors about the notorious Eddie Munson, local ‘cult leader’.

“I’m glad to hear you had a good day baby.” Eddie left a kiss on Blythe’s forehead. Blythe brought her hands out and took hold of Eddie’s cheeks, leaving a baby kiss on his cheek in return.

Your heart nearly stopped. You wanted to start sobbing, their interactions were filled with pure love and adoration for one another.

“Well miss Blythe, I’ll see you again tomorrow.” You spoke up, smiling at the two.

“Bye Ms. Honey!” Blythe turned around in Eddie’s hold, giving you an exuberant wave. “Now I can get my cookie, right daddy?”

Blythe turned back around to Eddie, her partially toothless smile making him laugh. “I guess you can now.”

“See you both tomorrow,” You voiced, still grinning at the two.

Eddie smiled at you, his big bronze eyes practically had a sparkle in them, gleaming everytime he looked your way. You felt your face flush from his gaze, turning around to gather up the rest of the students.

Blythe was chatting away as Eddie held her close, sharing every detail about her day and what she did. Occasionally mentioning how excited she was for the cookie.

Eddie was relieved that Blythe had a good day and was enthusiastic about going to school now. But he was even more relieved about you.

You were accepting and didn’t grimace at him whenever he walked into the small school.

You were lovely, and he was overjoyed to be able to see more of you.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[bristlefrostsbbg]

All my SMG4 Aus and what are they because i feel like i have too many to count :[(Part 1)

Igbs!AU = I gotta be safe AU, A fic on my wattpad that you can read so im not gonna explain.

ANP = A new pet AU, same as Igbs.

TSATP = The siren and the prince, same as the others

SPFTM = Stellar pieces from the moon, Same on my wattpad

TLD = The living doll, Same

DD = Dreaded Delays, its a AU where 4 took too long to decide to save 3 in the pit, as 3 fell into the pit and became infected with the tentacles; and 4 saved 3 but he still got infected, and 4 held him in a prison in the basement to find the cure, and 3 accidentally escaped, attacking the crew, but 4 managed to help 3, and 3 calmed down.

Blunt!AU = Knifes are too blunt to hurt anymore. Basically PV has the crew captured, and wotfi 2024 but my own way, aka PV wants to kill 3 for the sake of it, but 4 begs for PV not to do it, and PV(somehow) agreed. PV said, if 4 would be his puppet, and 4 said to let 3 and the others go. PV happily agrees, letting them go back to the showgrounds, aka pushing them in a portal without consent. the others already planning to help 4, but they needed someone to continue 4’s channel for a bit, and everyone thought 3 was the reasonable answer. 3 doesn’t take this option well, but he had to do it. Quarter a year later, the crew get their plan up. But suddenly, 3 gets a message from PV to meet him at puzzle park. Alone. Smg3 explains his plan to find 4, and if he wasnt back in half a day, come save his ass. PV himself greets 3, leading 3 straight to the engine room, where he comes face to face with 4, and he didnt look fucked up and tortured, he was in expensive looking makeup and blah blah fuck this part , and was brainwashed, attacking 3. Cornered, 4 came up to him, 3 whispering “I love you, dude” to his lover, before a knife was stabbed into his head, knocking 3 out, and it somehow didnt hit any vital parts, like the original 4 was trying to save 3, but just dodged the vital parts, but also blinding 3. at this point, its been half a day, i forgor to mention idk im losing track sorry 4- the crew break in just in time, 4 breaking free from PV’s control when he was attacked, rushing 3 to the hospital for treatment. And helping 4 get his sanity back. Half a month later, 3 finally wakes up(not fully just so they know hes still alive), and sappy shit blah blah i hate my job, and a day later, 4 goes into the now destroyed puzzle park, looking for anything for some reasons im still inventing, and finds destroyed PV’s head all fucked up. Smg4 was gonna leave it, but he realised that if he had PV at his mercy, he could get his revenge. 4 brought PV back, taping his limb holes idk bro to prevent PV from escaping. After PV woke up, and got BRUTALLY FUCKING smashed by 4 multiple tjmes, he realised PV was converted into a inmobile TV head now, for his body was beyond repair and was separated from his body which was burnt in Puzzle park. 4 threatened PV that if 3 was in any way damaged permanently, he would kill PV immediately. 3, although he survived the attack, still suffered damage, his two eyeballs’s films were shattered and damaged, causing him to be literally almost blind, but his left eye could see out barely, and the doctors gave him a special idk fucking shit i made it up, and he could see at least something better. He slowly recovered, being well enough for 4 to meet 3, and 4 apologised for everything, crying and sobbing, before 4 suddenly kissed 3, confessing he had heard everything. Smg4 also told the whole situation about PV, and 3 gradually accepted it, as long as he could beat up PV again. Then 3 was better, going back to the showgrounds, getting used to his blind ass. He kinda already got a prescription for glasses, but he simply ignored it and used the glasses whenever he generally couldnt see, and 3 faced PV, and insert beating up. Then, 3 SOMEHOW broke a vital wire in PV’s head, causing PV to lose his grip on the TV, cause he is still human at heart, and boom die :3 Then insert happy ending idk bro im tired

I’ll probably write Part 2 soon man

[slaymybreathaway]

Love You, Bye (Charlie Conway x reader)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 968

Masterlist

I got a call from Charlie at around 11p.m.

"Hello, y/l/n house, y/n speaking," I said into the phone.

"Hi Y/n, It's Charlie... I know it's late but meet me at the park gates in 20 minutes. Bring your roller blades," My best friend spoke.

I've had a crush on Charlie for a couple of years now and half the team says that we would look good toghether.

"What? Charlie why on earth would I do that?" I asked.

"Beacause I'm your best friend and you trust me and there will be pizza involved," he blabbered on about how amazing he is and why I should do it.

"Alright Spazway you can shut up now. I'll be there" I giggled

"Alright love you, bye," Charlie said which made me burst out laughing.

"Shit no, not like that I'm just hardwired from calling my Mom, ok?" he nervously.

He was there trying to explain what me meant but he gave up and just said "Just meet me there in 20, alright?" and hung up the phone.

I got my rollerblades from my closet. My parents room is upstairs and mine is downstairs so it's not common that they would check on me during the night. I put a pillow under my duvet just incase.

I threw on my white Duck's jersey and a pair of jeans. I put my skates and helmet and tied the laces of my converse to each other and hung them around my neck.

I climbed out my bedroom window clumsily and skated in the direction on the park.

♡

10 minutes later and I arrived at the park. Sure enough, Charlie was standing at the main gate with a box labelled Tom's pizzaria.

Charlie turned around and saw me. I stopped infront of him.

"How we gonna get in, Charlie?" I asked with a laugh.

"Simple" he said and pointed to the rusted to a rusted padlock on the park gates.

I picked a rock up from the ground and chucked it at the padlock. It immediately broke into pieces and the gate creaked open.

"That was bad-ass but the padlock was open," Charlie laughed.

"Oh shut up," I said and held the gate open for him.

He handed me the pizza box so that he could put on his skates. He took it back off me and went zooming into the park.

"WAIT UP SPAZWAY, WHERE ARE WE GOING?" I shouted and then raced to catch up with him. Streetlights zoomed past my vision.

When I finally caught up he was staning infront of the skate park. There was ramps and a bowl and other skate park stuff. During the day it's packed with Tony-Hawk-wannabes but in the dead of night it was nice. Romantic, even.

"Let's go," Charlie said and grabbed my arm. He pulled me over to the biggest ramp in the place and started climbing up the steps at the back of it.

"Ok, ok I'm coming," I said and followed him up.

Charlie sat cross legged with the pizza box open. It smelled delicious.

"Charlie... Are you going to tell me why I'm eating pizza at the top of the skate park in the middle of the night," I picked up a slice.

"I'll answer all your questions soon," He promised and smiled at me.

"Aw please... Just one now?" I pleaded.

Charlie took one look at me and then sighed in defeat.

"Ok just one," He said and took another slice of pizza.

"What did you truly mean on that phone call?" I asked.

"Hmmm what phone call exactly beacause we call alot and-"

"Conway" I stared up at him.

"Imeantthatiloveyou,"he mumbled.

"If you're going to answer my question then you might as well say the answer loud enough for human ears to hear it," I joked.

He made direct eye contact with me and said "I... I meant that I love you

Y/n."

I looked at him in disbelief. Did he just say the words that I have been dreaming of him saying for four years?

He exhaled deeply and stood up. He kicked the now empty pizza box off the side if the ramp. He threw his shoes down too so I did the same.

"Just forget it. Just forget that I said anything," he sighed and skated off the edge of the ramp.

Charlie skated down the ramp at insanely high speeds and onto the ramp opposite it. He turned around and skated to the ground.

"WAIT CHARLIE," I called from the ramp.

"WHAT?" he called back.

"I LOVE YOU TOO YOU IDIOT. I HAVE LOVED YOU SINCE WE WERE LIKE 10," I laughed.

"REALLY?" he shouted. "I guess you better come down here and get me then,"

I was dangerously afraid of heights. Charlie knew this. I can get up just fine but getting down is the hard part. I looked at the ramp and thought "why the fuck not,"

I skated over the edge with my heart in my mouth and I did the exact same thing that he did. But instead of stopping gracefully, I pulled a Luis and skated straight into Charlie.

He tried to catch me but instead we both fell over. Charlie landed on top of me and we were both laughing so hard. When we realised what way position were in both of our cheeks burned red.

Charlie cleared his throat, "May I," he asked.

I smirked "You may."

He leaned down and kissed me. I kissed back immediately. My arms wrapped around his neck and after a while we broke apart for air.

"So are you my..." Charlie's entire face was like a stop sign and mine was probably the same.

"Girlfriend? Definately

[hollymartinswrites]

Say Hi by HollyMartins

[ao3]

Summary:

In the mall food court, Lee Russell bumps into someone from his very recent past.

TW: Lee Russell comments on teen's weight because of course he would.

Notes:

So I’m on a Walton Goggins kick because of Fallout and I binged Vice Principals, not expecting for the amoral, selfish, dishonest, evil, sometimes arsonist that is Lee Russell to worm his way into my heart.

I don’t condone any of his actions but man, do I enjoy watching him do them. And I can’t believe there isn’t more fic about this show. Maybe the Ghoulggins renaissance will help.

Anyway, the Spring Break episode broke me when Janelle called him Uncle Lee and he gave her a kiss and said it was so good to see her. Was he lying? Probably. Do I like to believe he had a genuine soft spot for her because of Neal? Yes. Did I expect Lee Russell to be the catalyst out of my writing slump of nearly two years? No way in hell.

And now with new edits.

"Uncle Lee!"

Lee freezes, his good hand clenching around the styrofoam cup of diet soda. Thank God he had left his table of coworkers early and is now mercifully alone.

A hand touches his arm and he flinches but forces a smile as Janelle steps in front of him.

"I thought it was you," she says breathlessly, smiling.

"It's me, sweetheart," he replies, the term of endearment rolling off his tongue like it used to. He stops himself from hugging her, however. "Look at you. Looks like you finally did lose some weight."

Janelle rolls her eyes before observing, "I haven't seen you in forever."

Lee swallows. Maybe she doesn't know. Maybe she thinks he and her dad are still the best of friends and they regularly meet to bullshit and laugh and get on each other's fucking nerves.

"I've been busy," he lies. "What with the physical therapy, and now this promotion. Being a regional manager is just as hard as being a principal. I don't know who are bigger pieces of shit, high school students, customers, or corporate."

Janelle glances down at his gloved hand and he frowns.

"But do you like your job?" she asks instead.

"Course I do. I finally have a nice discount on shit I actually want to buy. You know how much I hated going to Staples."

Janelle smiles tightly and goes quiet, both very much aware that Lee has never stepped foot inside a Staples in his life. He hopes a friend of hers will pop up and whisk her away to Spencer's or Claire's or wherever the fuck teenage girls hang out in at a mall. But as the silence stretches towards awkwardness, he has no choice but to clear his throat.

"So, how's school?"

Fuck.

Janelle shrugs.

"It's okay," she admits. "The teachers aren't bad and I made some new friends. Wish Dad was still there, though."

Something in Lee's chest twists and he looks down at the sticky, outdated, and frankly ugly as shit tiles of the food court.

"Wish you were there, too."

Lee's head snaps up so fast he knows he'll have to make another visit to his acupuncturist soon. That twisty feeling in his chest tightens as he sees the wistful look on Janelle's face. He tries to offer a smile again but it feels uncomfortable on his face. Fuck. He used to be good at bullshit.

"You wouldn't want that," he insists. "Wouldn't want the other students being judgy pricks because you have an in with the principals, right?"

Janelle shrugs again. Lee has never been one for comforting but he feels a need to put his arm around her. He very nearly does until he remembers he's still holding a half-empty cup of tepid soda. And he's not about to bring his fucked up arm near her. Later, he'll wonder if this was one of those profound moments in a teenager's life where they could really use some guidance or understanding or even just some fucking acknowledgement. He has no idea because all he can bring himself to do is offer her his discount anytime she comes into his store. At this, she actually laughs.

"No offense, Uncle Lee," she says, wrinkling her nose, "but your store isn't really my style."

"Oh, and this is?" he asks, motioning at her outfit with the soda. She laughs again. Lee relaxes. This is easy. This is familiar. "What'd you do, go dumpster diving at Goodwill?"

Janelle just shakes her head and rolls her eyes again, a smirk on her face. At least she gets his sense of humor. Suddenly, a voice calls her name and Lee turns to see three teenage girls heading their way. Thank God.

"I gotta go," she says. "We gotta catch a movie."

"Alright," he says and steps out of her way, allowing her to walk past him.

"See ya," she says over her shoulder. "I'll tell Dad you said hi."

"Yeah," Lee sighs as she rushes towards her friends. "Yeah, you tell him."

[absentwriterdoll]

"April 1st"

The doll opened its eyes. Its witch's heart beat in her throat. Its witch reached a hand out to caress its hair. The doll leaned into the witch's hand.

Finally. Finally finally finally, she finally did it. After years and years and years, she finally fixed Dione.

D:"Mi-"

Alarm spells rouse the witch from her rest.

Her heart, still soaked with the echoes of the false relief and joy that had flooded her just moments ago.

She sits up.

A deep breath.

And chills run her through.

She shivers.

And her heart -

Her everything -

Aches.

Her house is quiet.

Years ago, she would have woken up to the most horrible doll working its strange pranks.

Always harmless.

Salt instead of sugar in her tea.

A clattering as a tower of cooking utensils collapsed.

Giggling as it bounced its way down the stairs.

Toilet paper on top of the showerhead.

All of her clothes inside-out.

Her inks swapped around - this one was actually minorly harmful. She still remembers how guilty it looked - but she caught it grinning slyly later on.

... It wasn't really that harmful, in retrospect.

It even influenced her dreams at times. How, she never learned, but -

Nightmares where her doll would always save the day.

A dream where the doll was the witch and she was the doll -  her doll was quite clingy for days afterward. Guilt? Love? Both? She was never quite sure.

Always these. Harmless, harmless little pranks. She often questioned how the doll ended up the way it did. The thing was supposed to reduce her stress, not the other way around.

...

The only day it never played a joke was April 1st.

Her first year with the doll, with its insistence on playing pranks, she went the entire day waiting for the moment it would strike.

And it never did.

Prank after prank played on her by every other entity she knew -

But not a single one by her doll.

And, by the end of the day, she snapped, the tension was too much, she knew it was going to happen, so just play the gods-damned prank alrEADY YOU LITTLE SHIT.

And.

It hugged her.

And half of her wanted to shove it away, finally unmake that dastardly unwelcome -

And it hugged tighter.

And.

And...

She broke.

And all at once she couldn't stop crying.

And it didn't stop hugging it, and she clutched it, grasped at it, held onto it, as if letting go would see her fall to her death -

And it didn't let go.

And it didn't let her go.

And…

It got hit by a car one day.

It didn't get back up.

Ebon porcelain, scattered across the sidewalk.

One of its eyes tossed far from its head.

And she gathered the pieces, every single one, every broken fragment, every bit of dust, every grain of powder.

And she put it back together as best she could and

It didn't get back up.

But she was certain she fixed it right, she could see the maintenance magic she wove working its way through the fragments, it was going to get up, it was supposed to get back up and play more pranks and-

It didn't.

Every day, she added mana to the pyre.

Her magic, as always, wove its way through it.

Every night of every day after day after day after every single day, she gave as much as she could to it, so please please please please PLEASE get back up-

And it didn't.

And, in time, she started to dream.

She started to dream the most horrible dreams.

Dreams where she fixed it, and she woke up.

Dreams where she fixed it and it fell apart in her hands, and she woke up.

Dreams where she forgot the piece of porcelain on the hit-and-run car -

Dreams where passersby took a fragment in their hands, on their shoe -

Dreams where it was the wind that stole a bit of powder -

Dreams where she fixed it only to function for a moment before shattering worse than before -

Dreams where she died before she ever fixed it -

Dreams where she fixed it.

Where she spent a day with it.

Where it told her it was sorry.

Where she asked why -

And it was scattered on the road.

Its eye staring at her.

Surrounded by its ebon porcelain.

Almost as if it was crying tears of ichor.

And -

Alarm spells rouse the witch from her rest.

Her heart, still soaked with the all too real echoes of hopeless helplessness that had flooded her just moments ago.

She sits up.

A deep breath.

And chills run her through.

She shivers.

And her heart -

Her everything -

Aches.

D:"Good morning, Miss!"

Everything slows as adrenaline floods her.

As she sees another nightmare form before her eyes-

And an explosion of pain as the most horrible doll ever torpedoes right into her solar plexus.

And she seizes it.

And -

It's moving. 

And it's laughing and giggling and alive and she's going to wake up and this is just another nightmare it's going to die in her hands and -

And it frees itself and hugs her and -

It shakes -

No.

It sobs into her.

As if-

As if that doll could cry tears.

She - 

She never built that into it, of course it isn't crying tears -

That's -

That's just her own tears on it.

She's -

She's going to wake up any second -

D:"Not this time, Miss!"

And it squeezes her.

As tightly as it ever could.

And it doesn't let go.

And it doesn't let her go.

And it still isn't letting her go.

And it's still here.

And it's still, really here.

And she's awake.

And she's not dreaming.

And...

It's April 1st.

=====

Cast:

D - Dione! A comfort doll that the witch (Uila) made for herself! Truly a horrible doll - but exactly what she needed at times. Uila doesn't remember it, but Dione doesn't play pranks when she's really stressed out, April 1st or not. Dione isn't too horrible after all!

[damn-stark]

GOOD LAWDDD. after the last jjk episode i thought that at this point more heartache couldn’t faze me…and well if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions choosing to read this right after😀

As much as it would be nice to immediately get into just Jean and Cherry marrying, I LOVE SEEING HOW SHES NAVIGATING LIFE AT THIS POINT. starting a new chapter with her cousin, it’s good to see our girls having each others backs after so much loss. i imagine that when cherry touched back down in paradis mikasa greeted her with the biggest hug. them both healing with one another and helping each other at the same time.

also imagining mikasa probably calling jean some outta pocket names after cherry spilled what happened between them😭😭 how any cousin would react, “like yeah he’s going thru stuff too, i get that, BUT IS HE STUPID?”

as far as how this tackles the trauma and ptsd god it really hurts to see just how much worse things progressed after the war for cherry. the difference in her anger really stuck out to me especially, after reading and truly engrossing in the story, i couldn’t ever associate anger with cherry as a character. of course cherry can get angry, but it’s more so in situations of her being protective of those she loves. so to see her even go to the extent of yelling at Jean?? that said it all😕

Levi being nothing but supportive of her healing too??? DONT PLAY WITH ME I STARTED CRYING SO HARD😭

and you put that so perfectly in the writing. as hard as the war was, as horrendous as it was, it kind of was easier to “live” alongside the traumas and ptsd. with all the stuff they had to deal with it’s not like they had real time to really sit there and think and feel it through. it was easy to keep moving and not face the music. but now that it’s over…all of them have to go through a different kind of warfare, one that no training could possibly prepare anyone for.

i keep thinking about cherry’s promise to eren. how he wanted her to look after mika, but ALSO to live her life. her promise to him was a promise not only to her cousin but also to herself. also can’t say just how proud i am of her for going through this shit and handling it like a champ.

she knows that she needs to be better for herself. better to be able to live a life worthy of the sacrifices from all over her friends and family that have passed to give that opportunity to her. the only way to truly enjoy this peace that they literally bled and some have died for, she’s gotta rough it out. and she’s doing the work and also stood her ground to make sure she gave herself that chance to, and all POWER TO HER FOR IT.

but while she knows she needs to get better for her, she knows she needs to be better for Jean. her awareness of that proves and is a testament to just how much she loves him. she can’t stand being half of a friend and lover for him. she knows he also deserves better. and in order to be able to give him a love and relationship he deserves she knows she’s gotta put in the work to get better for it. and i truly hope that in the year gap of them being apart he’s come to realize that he’s one of the big motivations of her separating. rather than holding resentment for it.

also NOT THE BROTHER AND MOM REVEAL, my heart nearly dropped outta my ass😭😭 i’m terrified but also excited to see cherry finally meeting her older brothers? not sure if i trust marie😟…BUT i’m just wondering how the sibling dynamic will be, or if there will even be one? and how will they make up for lost time?

every word and piece of dialogue all contributed to the emotional impact of this chapter. you truly are doing the damn thing with the ending of the series, its all rolling out beautifully, and i hope you know that! you’ve done an amazing job as always author, see you next thursday💟

That JJK EPISODE BROKE ME!! But that’s why I cope with writing for Sugar sooo!

BUT having them break up was the best thing so she didn’t grow more angry and then later on resent him and become who her own father, Kenny, didn’t want her to become, an aimless person with no true life and who just spends their time angry.

She left to not get reminded of her trauma, and work to just heal with Mikasa…

And her mom and brother! I was excited for that part…AND THANK YOU!! YOUR WORDS REALLY MEAN SO MUCH TO ME!! They really motivate me to keep writing❤️❤️

[cellarfulofnose]

don't think twice, it's all right

@smallsnzplz prompt #3. Sooner or later, one of us must know...

"No, hey, listen, I can beat that, hang on."

John didn't realize he'd tuned out until Bob lightly shook his shoulder. He tried to focus, but they were in a thick haze. Smoke and drink and possibly a pill or two; John couldn't remember which kind or how many. Once they had sunk to the kitchen floor, communing with the tile, someone brought up sex, and whether they were getting any. There was a brief gripe over their current dry spell, but they quickly began trading war stories. Back in America, there was this girl...Back in Hamburg, there were these two birds... It didn't make John's head any less fuzzy, being randy as a bull as well as stoned, but he kept upping the ante. For each of Bob's escapades, he had one to top it. Some, even, were true.

But now the ball was in Bob's court again. "John. You listening?"

John kneaded at his eyes with a rumbling hum. "I'm still here, Bobby," he said somewhat reticently.

"Oh, there was this one chick, man." Without looking, John could hear the grin in Bob's voice. "This girl...hey, she woulda loved you, too."

John turned with a smile--perhaps this was worth a look. "Well, she's only human."

"Yeah, she's real keen on us 'Caesar of Rome' types," Bob explained, tracing a line down the bridge of his nose.

John scoffed. "Long noses?" He almost hesitated to ask. God knew he'd heard enough of that from Ringo over the years: these girls are going to kill me, John, this one actually wanted to sit on my--

"Yeah, but I mean, aquiline, you know?" Bob gestured again, as if to convey the shape of an eagle's beak, and chuckled. "I ought to thank you, really, you broke me in easy."

"Thank me?"

"Yeah, she wanted me to..." Bob giggled, but he gathered himself up long enough to get out, "She got off on makin' me sneeze."

"Hmm." John answered without really hearing. But in a matter of seconds, the words sank in, and a lightning stab of excitement snapped him back to the present moment. He shook his head, half sobered up, blinking as if to clear his vision. "She what?"

Still fighting a fit of giggles, Bob nodded. "She's got a whole thing for it. Gets her goin'. I thought it was about the funniest thing, because she brought up all that shit you showed me--with the tissue?" He twisted his hand beside his nose. "Remember? And the cotton swab."

John swallowed. Fucking small world, this. "Rings a bell."

"Yeah, well, she got me to sneeze that way. And she was good at it, too, I mean, she wouldn't let up, just unbelievable. But I'd already had some practice with you, so it wasn't so bad," Bob finished, laughing lightly, happily oblivious to the weight of what he'd just said.

John, despite himself, was finding it difficult to speak. If Paul were here...Now his thoughts were getting away from him. "But it didn't put you off?" he asked, before they could wander off for good.

"Put me off?" Bob sounded bewildered. "What do you mean, put me off? I loved it. And it got her so hot, John..." His voice changed, got lower and slower, as he leaned in, one hand on John's arm. Dead serious. "I'd sneeze and she'd just get this look, like she was gonna go all to pieces, you wouldn't even believe it..."

"A good fuck, then?" John kept talking, joking to quiet his head, but it was no use. His runaway thoughts, without his permission, had led him to his most reprehensible idea yet. He pushed it away. It wasn't worth spending time on, nor the trouble that was sure to come with it.

"Jesus." Bob collapsed his face into his hands and rocked to the side, letting his weight rest on John for a moment. "Best lay I've ever had. She was wild. I made her come just from touchin' her, just barely nothin'. And by the time I really fucked her--" he whistled, "she woulda done anything, man. I never saw a chick get like that before."

Speak for yourself, John didn't say. What came out instead, bypassing his brain by way of his cock, was: "Anything."

"Felt good, too. Shit." Bob lifted his head from his hands. He continued as if he hadn't heard John, his face split in a dopey grin, eyes half shut, miles deep in a daydream. "You ever sneeze right as you're just about to get off? Whew. Feels like dying and being born."

"Can't say I've had the pleasure," John lied. "So you'd..." Something pulled at his clothes, and he started, but it was only Bob, playing absent-mindedly with the lapels of John's jacket, running his long fingernails over the corduroy furrows. John responded almost automatically with a gentle hand on Bob's wrist, joining him in play. "You'd do it again, then?"

Bob shook his head. "God. Would I. Given half the chance. Just...somethin' different about it, I don't know." He chuckled. "Don't exactly see the chicks linin' up to--"

"I know someone who would." It was out before John could tell himself not to, and straight away his mouth went dry. There was no way he could tell Bob. Yet the thrill that leapt in his chest to hear himself even hint at the truth was too much. He couldn't back out. It was too late.

"Oh, you do, huh?" Bob was Cheshire-cat grinning. "Did you keep her number?"

"Hardly needed to, did I? When I could just ask Paul." Shit. That was a step too far, wasn't it? John prayed Bob wouldn't make the leap. Surely there was another way that could be construed. Maybe he'd think he meant--

"Ask...ask Paul?" At first, Bob couldn't make sense of it. "What, like...Oh, don't tell me."

John's heart dropped heavily into his stomach, but Bob said, "Not Paul's girl, too? The redhead? Jesus Christ, man, she must be about the luckiest chick on the planet. Can you imagine that? All she's gotta do is pet a cat and he's sneezing for a good...a good hour, something like that. Oh, I bet you he gets her so worked up. Shit, I'd love to see that."

John bit his lip to avoid breaking out in bewildered, relieved laughter. Bob was often right on the mark, but when he missed it...boy, did he. "It's not Jane. I meant..." John stalled. The words wouldn't come. He'd really painted himself into a corner, hadn't he? He didn't see any other way out.

Bob was still messing with his jacket, scratching and tracing thoughtlessly. John swallowed. "Only I, I wouldn't mind, you know."

For a crushing moment, Bob was quiet. Then he scoffed. "You don't mean that."

"I swear."

"You just--you've got this notion that I'm gonna put you on to a good thing." As he spoke, Bob jabbed an accusing finger into John's chest, but without any bite behind it. "That's all this is. You've got...misplaced notions. Huh, John?" He was smiling, not looking scornful. Amused, maybe; flattered, even.

"Well." John wet his lips. "It's a bit more complicated than that."

"Yeah, well. Why don't you simplify it for me?"

John made his face placid. He felt keenly aware of where their hands were still touching. "You know Paul and I are. Involved."

"In love?"

"I said, 'involved'."

"Oh." Bob smirked. "Yeah, I figured."

"Right." It was deeply unfair how caught John felt, more so than at the prospect of outing Paul's unusual interest. Somehow, though, he soldiered on. "But our Paul, he's...well, he's a bit mad for you, really." Earlier, he'd been holding Bob's wrist, lightly saying hello as Bob explored his jacket. Now, though, he pressed his palm flat over Bob's, cupping him to his chest, right over his heart. Even through Bob's hand, John could feel how it raced.

If Bob wanted to say something just then, it couldn't escape his lips, tightly pursed to squash a smile. John gave Bob's hand a squeeze, stroked it with his thumb, and continued. "You should hear the way he goes on about you. Makes me wonder."

Bob sighed, quick and tight like a breathless laugh. "Don't worry, Johnny, I'm not about to run off with him." He sounded cavalier, but he was looking down, doing nothing to hide his smile, unconsciously palming John's chest.

"Oh, I'm a jealous man, but I'm not unreasonable. I see what he sees in you." John began to push, just barely, guiding Bob's hand down at a glacier's pace. "I've half a mind to give him what he wants--long as I'm there to see it, of course."

"John, man, your heart's goin'..." Bob's hand had only just cleared John's ribs when he pulled back. But instead of separating, Bob sidled up to John and pressed the side of his head against John's chest, with his ear over his heart.

John's skin warmed all over, but he felt as though he might shiver. He clutched Bob's head and took a deep breath. "That's an open invitation." He could hear his heart thudding, now, too. He could only imagine what Bob must have heard.

As if on cue, Bob angled his head to listen better. "Wow. You're not kiddin', are you? You really want..." He trailed off.

"Yeah. Yes." John nodded, helpless not to even though Bob couldn't see. "But...there's a catch--"

"Hey." Bob beckoned lazily with one hand. "Hey, John. C'mere a minute."

John looked down as Bob gathered a fistful of his shirt and pulled slowly, dragging him down to eye level. His eyes were the color of a robin's egg.

Bob pulled once more, and the breath kicked out of John's chest. He shut his eyes just as their lips joined in a smoky kiss.

---

"Dylan wants me to watch you two fuck."

John had spent the previous night at Bob's place. They didn't get up to anything, too tired even to neck for more than a few minutes before they dragged themselves onto the carpet to sleep. He'd slipped out in the morning to meet Paul, leaving Bob still curled up against an ottoman. He and Paul had passed a normal day together, getting stoned, fiddling with writing, not committing anything to tape. All the while, John was ruminating over how to break the good news to Paul (and it was good news, he kept reminding himself, nothing less than one of Paul's fantasies come to life).

Yet for some reason, he just couldn't say it. At first he reasoned that he'd better get Paul in a good mood before dropping a bombshell of this caliber, but as the day went by, he realized he was stalling. Nervous. For what? It didn't make sense. Paul should be the nervous one--or, really, if anyone was to be nervous it should be Dylan, but of course he'd been cool as glass when John surrendered the details of his idea. Finally, John decided just to open with the most shocking part. Door-in-the-face. Get it out of the way.

Paul stared. He blinked so many times John was worried he'd have to repeat himself, but then he asked, "When?"

John had to take a moment to recover from that one. At least Bob had the decency to give the appearance of humility, coyly insisting that there must be some mistake, he couldn't possibly want him. No such urge existed in Paul. And he might have pretended to hand-wring over fidelity, tearfully swear he wanted John and only John forever, but that was a pipe dream, too. Oh, John could have pitched a fit, and on another day he might've done, but today, he felt the need to get to the point. He told Paul about the girl, her exotic tastes. How eager Bob was to re-create the experience, but for want of a willing participant.

"He wants to do it with you," John finished.

Paul became very quiet. After a long pause, he said in a clipped tone that John hadn't answered his question. John was a little taken aback. He floated the potential date he and Bob had talked about, but that seemed to have been the wrong thing to say. Paul snapped that John had betrayed his trust (again, he kept saying, again), that he had no right to be telling Dylan his most intimate secrets. He got quieter and quieter until John was sure he was ready to cry.

"I told him it was my kink," John blurted, after trying to interrupt several times. "Not yours."

Paul looked exhausted, and utterly lost. "What?"

"Look. No secrets. All right?" John spread his hands out, trying not to sound like he was crying wolf. "I'm not keeping anything from you."

He told Paul everything.

"With Paul, he's...he's very neat, see. Hates mess."

"Well, then he's gonna hate this, man. That'd be tantamount to torture, havin' somebody sneeze all over you."

"Aye, there's the fucking rub, innit? I love seeing him like that. When he's squirming like mad, but he grits his teeth and he does it just 'cause I asked him to. And you know he loves it. Pushin' his limits for me, showing me how good he can be. Can't get enough of it. He's dead easy, is Paul."

"Jesus Christ, what a...what a cheap date, huh? God, you two are somethin'."

John left out the cheap date part, but once he'd finished the rest of the story, Paul's eyes had gone big and round. John shrugged: Well?

Paul scratched his face. "So I've got to pretend to be..."

"Disgusted," John finished for Paul when he took too long searching for the right word.

Paul raised his eyebrows, somewhat defiantly. "Like any normal person would be."

If that was a line, John thought it best not to bite. He kept his tone and expression even. "Think you can do that?"

Paul shifted, crossed and uncrossed his legs. "Yeah. 'Course," he said with his thumbnail in his mouth. He'd gone from icy to twitchy, as if it had just broken through that this was actually going to happen and his nerves were already settling in. John wasn't worried. It was a performance, and if Paul was built to do anything it was perform.

Still... "You sure?"

"Yeah." Paul frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"

John shook his head, his face tactless; I don't know, you tell me. "Well, it's one thing to try and play it cool when you're ten feet apart in his flat. With your clothes on."

"I was fine," Paul quickly said.

"And when he's on the ground with your cock in his mouth?" John fired back. "You'll be fine, will you? When he sneezes so hard he drives his head down and chokes on you? And then again when your cock tickles the roof of his mouth, you'll be fine then?"

For a brief moment, Paul looked ready to burst into flames. Nostrils flared, eyes shining. But he slammed his lips shut, wrinkled his nose and frowned, even pulled his head back a bit. "That's bloody disgusting," he spat, the same cant in his eyebrows and quirk on his lips that he got whenever he was asked to read lines for a camera.

John took a deep breath. "We'll work on it."

---

Bob arrived at Cavendish straight from a show. John had to admit, he'd looked better.

It was dark outside when he rang the doorbell, looking like the wind had blown him onto the doorstep, swimming in an angular woolen suit, the bags under his eyes heavy and stark. He said nothing, but gave a weak smile when John opened the door.

"Sorry, we've no room at the inn," John said brusquely, and that got Bob smiling enough for John to throw an arm round him and herd him inside.

When they entered the front room, Paul stubbed out his cigarette--he'd practically burned through a carton waiting for Bob to arrive. "All right, Bob?" he called brightly.

"Hey, Paul," Bob rasped. His voice was gravelly, more so than usual. It stung John's throat to hear, but only because he knew the feeling so well, the soreness of having screamed yourself hoarse onstage. At least when John did it, he only had to match half of Paul's volume. Bob's voice must have been double-wrecked, then, from being the only fucker singing at any given time.

Paul heard it too; John could see it on his face, which didn't bode well for the rest of the evening. But Paul deliberately avoided eye contact with John and coolly asked, "How was the show?"

"Terrible, oh, it was terrible." Bob dropped like a bag of rocks onto the sofa next to Paul, tiredly rubbing his face with one hand.

John sat in the armchair, kitty-corner to Paul and Bob. "They give you trouble?"

"They wouldn't stop booing me, man. I couldn't hear the band."

"Philistines," John sneered, just as Paul said, "Oh, all Brits are rubes, you know, we wouldn't know a real act if it bit us." In response to that, John clacked his teeth together, snapping his jaws like a crocodile. Paul ignored him.

"Ah, it's all bullshit anyway, that audience stuff," Bob said dismissively. "But next time I'm gonna boo back."

John flipped the V and hissed, and that made both of them laugh. But when they caught their breath, a silence fell that was just a bit too strained for John's liking. Everyone seemed to be waiting. Bob rubbed his eyes.

God. It always had to be him, didn't it? "Paul."

Paul straightened, and John said, "Get the man a drink."

Paul was on his feet in an instant. He seemed to realize a moment later how eager he'd been, the puppylike enthusiasm in his obedience, because he turned and gave them a stiff bow before he left the room: See, it's all a joke.

"It's so hard to find good staff in London," John lamented once Paul had disappeared.

"No, I like him, he's good," Bob chuckled. "You keep him."

"You think so?"

At that moment, Paul came back in, laden with glasses of whiskey and wine. "Oh, I think so," Bob grinned, and with a funny twinge in his stomach, John realized his unique position in this little dance. Whatever Bob and Paul thought of each other after tonight reflected back on him. He was the ringmaster, the matchmaker.

John reached for wine, but decided on whiskey instead. Paul sat. They drank.

Bob did most of the talking. Not all of his shows, as it turned out, were disasters. Only the other night, he'd played for an audience who cheered and were silent at all the right times (though, he claimed, they were mostly French and didn't understand what he was singing, which was almost worse). Paul shared a few anecdotes about some of their wilder crowds. He didn't so much as stammer as he refilled everyone's glass and kept easy attention on Dylan. John found himself listening intently to stories he'd heard a hundred times, never mind been there for, and he began to suspect Bob was right. About keeping Paul around, that is.

At some point, John saw Bob's hand resting in Paul's upper thigh with no memory of seeing him put it there. His pulse spiked, adrenaline cutting through the foggy balm of the drinks. It was no absent-minded fidget, but a gentle, deliberate hold.

As if he felt John staring, Paul turned to meet his gaze. He studied John's eyes for a moment, then hooked his ankle behind John's, nestling their shins together.

John's head spun. There'd been something coiling in his chest earlier, some strange possessive urge that rankled to see Bob and Paul touching each other. That was gone now. He wanted them to get on exceptionally, blisteringly well with each other, and he didn't want to miss a moment of it.

Bob laughed while sipping wine and spluttered out a few drops of red. He was laughing too hard to recover, so Paul reached over and thumbed the spilled wine off Bob's chin. He popped his thumb in his mouth to clean it; waste not, want not. God only knew what possessed him to give a little hum of satisfaction after that, as indulgent as if the wine were honey.

It didn't go unnoticed. "Thanks," said Bob. "It's good, isn't it?"

Paul nodded, looking slightly guilty, little Jack Horner caught with his thumb in the pie. "It's good."

John thought he might sweat through his jacket if they sat here any longer. Then Bob said, "Hey, I've never been here before. Where's the bedroom?"

"Just--down..."

John sprang to his feet before Paul could finish giving directions. "This way," he panted, and the other two followed.

He swore he'd only counted one breath before they were piling into Paul's room. The jostled each other in the doorway, someone muttered "Sorry" as they nudged through the bottleneck, and then at once Bob was kissing John, as chapped and smoky as he'd been the first time. John tried to let himself melt into it, just for a second.

Bob tilted his mouth away to murmur "Oh, fuck," all soft and sweet, and John realized Paul had pressed into Bob from the back to kiss his neck. The sight and sound pushed every thought out of John's mind, and they continued like that for a while, John at Bob's lips and Paul at his pulse, until Paul stepped back with a rustle of fabric.

John opened his eyes. Paul had stripped to his shorts and was working on getting his socks off. He was so beautiful, dark-haired and open-mouthed, his chest splashed with pink from the wine and the kiss.

Bob started to palm John through his jeans, clumsy but sure. John gasped. "Wait, it--" he took half a step back, separating them. "It's you and him now." With a hand on Bob's shoulder, he turned him to face Paul. It was what they had agreed. He was just here to watch.

And to direct. "Sit down," John said softly, and Paul perched on the edge of the bed.

Geneva. That was the word that would end the whole session, no questions asked, if spoken. John tried to keep it at the front of his mind, but it was getting harder to hold on to rational thought. Bob, too, seemed to lose some of his faculties at the sight of Paul. For all John knew, he could've been star-struck, unwilling to believe this was the same man he'd met just under a year ago. "Go on," he said with a hand at Bob's back.

Bob shambled forward, and by the way Paul bit his lip and flushed, John could guess Bob sported a sheepish grin. John smiled, safely unseen. He dragged a chair from the dresser to the middle of the room and sat.

Paul sighed heavily through his nose when Bob planted his hands on the bed and leaned down to kiss him. John stirred--not jealousy, not envy, but a fierce desire to move in as close to them as he could, to watch every fleeting touch transpire between them. He almost sighed with relief when Bob lowered to his knees, giving John an unobstructed view of Paul's face. Paul looked rumpled, already out of breath, his lips ruby from a good thorough kiss. His eyes darted down, but Bob was already standing again for some reason, as if he'd changed his mind.

John watched as Bob strode to the head of the bed. He was at a total loss until Bob reached over to the nightstand and ripped a tissue from the box.

"Can you get me started, John?" Bob asked, offering the sheet with a bashful smile. "I'm a little out of practice."

John blanched. Somehow amidst the wining and dining, he'd forgotten the hinge, the crux of this whole event. Judging by Paul's deer-in-the-headlights look, he had too, for a moment.

...He'd let his guard down. Perfect. John held out his hand, grinning ear to ear. "My pleasure."

As John twisted one corner into a wicked point, Bob bent down and began another story. "You know, I had to sneeze tonight, on stage. I dunno if it's the lights, or what, but..." he laughed. "I couldn't get my harmonica off. It was terrible. They were jeerin' me so bad. Someone, some--kgh--!" Bob twitched, sputtering out a cough, as John teased the paper into his nostril and gave a lazy swirl.

"You were saying?" John prompted, circling as slowly as he thought he could get away with, the other hand cradling Bob's chin. He stole a glance at Paul, who was running his fingertips over his lips. John raised his eyebrows once, suggestively, and looked back down.

Bob coughed. His expression was pinched, his lashes starting to darken with tears. "Someone's--Jesus--I hear someone going, 'Thahhh's...huh-! ohh...hh-...hhh--!" Bob's mouth fell open, trying to drink little sips of air, and John would've been forgiven for thinking he was on the edge of pleasure. He looked so blissed-out, yet so wanting; it was very Zen, John thought, to be so visibly caught at the crossroads of desire and suffering. He'd have to share that one with...ah, no, he couldn't tell George that.

Just then, Bob sighed thickly, having slipped the clutches of a sneeze. He sniffled a few times, as if to get his bearings, before he spoke. "They're goin', 'That's the best sound that's come outta you tonight!'" He laughed lightly, which made him sniffle again, and shot John a glare. "Hey, come on, quit teasin' me, John. I can't stomach it."

Without a word, John twisted his wrist and swirled, letting Bob feel the tissue's point properly this time.

Bob cried out and started coughing again. "Mother--fucker--that t-tickles," he managed.

John's eyes flicked up at a sudden movement--Paul was taking his hand out of his waistband. His cheeks were bright red. When he realized he was being observed, he shut his mouth and his face smoothed over a little.

John would've stared at him for an hour or two longer, but Bob gave a particularly vocal gasp. "Why don't you sneeze, then?" John asked, spurred on by an instinct he couldn't name.

Bob nodded, causing him to cringe and start gasping again. "I am...ahhh- hhh'm gonna--! ...htCch'uh!" The first sneeze had no kick to it; it was auxiliary, just to break the levee. Immediately, his lungs filled again, and he shivered out two proper sneezes. "hhhzzsch'ue! --hhih'SsChh!"

Despite himself, John jumped the tiniest bit--just from the sudden shock of spray hitting his hand, of course. He snuck a look across the room. Paul appeared--to his credit--almost bored. He blinked and rolled his eyes heavenward, his lips twisted as his tongue worked the inside of his cheek. One hand tapped incessantly on his knee. John knew the act well. He wasn't feigning disinterest; he was annoyed with himself, and only a few nudges away from biting down on something. Something about that, to John, didn't scream just fine.

"Bless you," John said with an affectionate tap under Bob's chin.

Bob swallowed and groaned, blinking away gauzy tears. "Ugh. Thank you."

John's gaze lingered a moment longer before he raised his voice to address Paul. "What, were you brought up in a barn, McCartney?"

Paul froze, petrified and utterly clueless, so John nodded down at Bob. A grudging understanding washed over Paul. "Bless--" His voice failed. He tried again. "Bless you, Bobby."

"Oh." Bob glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Thanks."

"There, now, that's better. I shouldn't have to remind you. We have a guest, after all." John didn't smile. He didn't need to. Paul's jaw was already tensing, like he was chewing on saying something. "Got to keep up appearances," John added, "haven't we?"

Paul's head tilted slightly, and his eyes might've narrowed, John couldn't swear from here. "Yes," he said flatly. "We have."

This time, John did smile. "Go on," he said to Bob, raising his chin toward Paul. "Till he gets it down."

"Happy to." Bob accepted the tissue from John and mopped at his nose with the non-twisted end. "I think I got it from here. Just had to...give me a little push." He grinned back at John as he sank to the floor before Paul's feet. Paul was breathing faster than usual, and blinking often, but otherwise he was impressively pacific. The only clue as to his true feelings was the rose-petal flush that dappled his chest. To John's eye, he wasn't even visibly hard. He'd tucked his thighs together just so, a skill learned out of necessity, prominent in the public eye as they were. But between those shapely legs, John knew, hid a throbber for the history books, and they'd only just begun.

Without much ceremony, Bob stuck the tissue's point up his nose. As if to prove to John that he could keep his cool, Paul worked a hand into Bob's curls, easing his head just slightly closer. He didn't look at John.

Bob made a sound of surprise. "Shit. Sorry," he added with a faint laugh. "I just. Snff. I never saw a better pair of legs on a chhick...yyyshh'ew!"

The sneeze seemed to catch them all by surprise. John blurted, "Bloody hell," and despite tensing conspicuously, Paul managed to offer a curt, "Bless you."

"God." Bob blew his nose lightly, but for some reason, he didn't elect to tear a fresh tissue. "Came up on me quicker than I thought. I guess I am pretty good at this. Hey, John?" he chuckled, twisting a new corner into a point.

John fought a smile. "Y'know how you get to Carnegie Hall, don't you?"

Paul's lips pressed thin. His shoulders gave a small jolt--he was swallowing a laugh. Victory burned John's cheeks.

"Man, ain't that the truth. Never thought I'd get the hang of this," said Bob, and stuck the tissue in his nose again. Right away, his breath came slow and heavy. "C'mon--let me..." he panted, easing Paul's knees apart with his free hand.

Paul's mouth dropped open, and he quickly pressed his palm over it, looking in need of a full-body shiver when Bob's hand slid up his thigh. There was no way to hide how shamefully hard he was now.

John swallowed--twice--and thought, fuck it. He rose from his chair and sat next to Paul on the bed, unfastening his belt as he went. All the acknowledgement he got was a brief moment of eye contact and a helpless little head-shake from Paul: Jesus fucking Christ, John.

Bob was too busy tempting a sneeze, and admiring Paul's legs, to notice. (His eyes were only half open, anyway.) "Did...did...did you get these--hhh'in-insured?" he asked haltingly, a faint smile playing at his lips.

"Aye, pretty fucking penny, too," John muttered. He didn't care if anyone but Paul heard him. Biting his lip to avoid gasping obscenely, he unzipped and wet the head of his cock with the dew pearling at the tip.

The memory of last time still fresh in his mind, Bob seemed to be over-cautiously slow at what he was doing, to the point that it didn't seem to be working. "Fuckin'--shit," he spat between ragged gasps. He tilted his head as if that would get him any closer, as if he could reach the tissue further in.

John's thumb slicked over the end of his cock again, and he nearly bit his tongue. "Faster," he hissed.

Bob quickened his pace and winced, hard. He didn't even have time to swear before he sucked in a stuttering breath and sneezed down at Paul's lap. Paul covered his mouth as Bob croaked something inaudible, gasped, and sneezed again, painting the tops of Paul's thighs.

"Holy Mary." John was so focused on stroking slowly and not fucking into his fist, he didn't notice Paul had stayed silent.

Paul's hand fell from his mouth. His eyes met John's by mistake and went from half-lidded to wide open. He sighed, as if out of breath, and choked out "Blessyou."

"Can't fucking count?" said John, a bit harsher than he needed to.

Paul glared. "Bless you," he added through gritted teeth.

Bob's breath caught once more, and they both flinched, but he let out a long, defeated exhale and sniffled miserably. "This thing's kaput, man," he said, casting aside the tissue with disdain. He leaned over to snatch another one, giving John just enough time to share a look with Paul. Paul looked strung out, his hair somehow out of place. When his eyes came into focus, his brow creased and he shook his head once, barely noticeable. Mouthed, 'M fine.

John rather hoped he would say that. "Bobby."

"Huh," Bob replied after a moment, his voice deadened by congestion. He slid back into place between Paul's knees and turned blearily to John.

"Need to blow your nose?"

"Yeah," Bob sighed, a hint of a laugh in it. "Good guess." He tented the tissue over his nose and began to breathe in.

"Stop--wait," John said.

Bob frowned curiously over the edge of the sheet.

John cleared his throat. His words tumbled out with a slight waver. "That's crap. Don't use that. Too rough, you'll rub the skin all raw. Got something softer for you. Haven't we, Paul? For our guest."

Paul looked at him fit to kill.

"Take your pretty knickers off," said John.

Something went through Paul's face, a twinge of nondescript emotion, a slight tremble in his jaw. But he only hesitated a moment before lifting his hips to slide his shorts down and off his ankle. Wet? They were soaked to partial sheerness in the front, bless him. Best of all, he needed no direction to hand them over to Bob, who buried his nose in them right away.

"Thank you," he lowed, muffled. "Oh, Jesus, these are soft."

"My best pair, so." Paul must have felt the sudden and wonderful need to act. He'd managed to pull an expression of mild discomfort--John thought it looked more like confusion than disgust, but Christ, what a show. "You know. Be care--" His monologue cut off when Bob blew his nose mightily into the cloth. Paul colored deeply and finished, "Careful with 'em."

Bob nodded but gave no other indication that he'd heard. He exhaled again with even more force, then stopped--inhaled--and convulsed with a wretched sneeze. Paul looked as if he might pass out. He dragged both hands down his face and huffed a sigh.

"Mother a' God," Bob groaned, before giving a final sinus-clearing blow. "Somethin' in the air in here, shit." He was smiling dazedly when he emerged, and God, if John thought he looked awful before...

"Wish I could take credit," John breathed. When he saw Paul roll his eyes, something occurred to him--Paul hadn't said 'bless you'. That wouldn't do at all.

"Oh, no, you're--you've done more than enough, John," Bob laughed. "Hang on, I gotta get..." He dropped the shorts and went for another tissue.

John leaned close to Paul. "Put them back on."

Paul huffed in disbelief, revulsion--and something else--on his face. "You're touched."

John tutted. "Mustn't forget our manners. And not in front of company."

At that moment, company returned to the floor between Paul's legs. With a firm edge, John said, "Put them back on."

Like a good host, Paul did. He couldn't stop himself from shuddering a bit (it must have been cold, John realized, never mind Paul's own hang-ups, and he cringed in sympathy).

Bob must have noticed. "Hey, it's all right, I took good care of them," he grinned. "I know what I'm doin'." He twisted a corner and resumed his work.

"No, I don't think you bloody well do," Paul said stiffly, and John would've smacked him if his dominant hand weren't so busy.

"Gonna take that lying down, Bob?" John asked, and to his great delight, Bob took the cue and stood.

"Some mouth on him." Then, "hhohgod," as he seemed to hit the right spot. Bob planted a hand on Paul's shoulder and one knee straight between his legs. A faint sound punched out of Paul at the contact, the light pressure on his severely neglected cock.

John's breath caught in his throat. "Too fucking--right," he growled, giving in to the temptation to stroke faster, never mind the filthy sound. "Only one thing for it."

"It hhhuh--hhurt...h-! hurtsSchHt!" Bob ducked into the curve of Paul's neck and shoulder to let out a ticklish sneeze and a short groan. Paul's spine arched, but he bit back his cry into a sound that could've passed for loathing.

"...Hurts me more than it hurts you, man. Jesus Christ." Bob sniffled. "It's getting to me."

"G'bless you, fuck," Paul wept--a plausible slip, as Bob had just pushed his knee against him at exactly the right angle. John didn't have the heart to scold him anyway. Couldn't be expected to mind his manners and his language all at once.

"Paul, baby, you're so good," Bob hummed, and Paul and John sighed together (close harmony, John thought). "You 'n' this, it...it feels so good, John..."

"Bobby," Paul breathed, curving into Bob's knee, and John's eyes snapped shut. He had to slow down.

Bob was quiet, a few soft breaths in and out. Then, high and fragile with want, "I gotta sneeze."

John's heart raced. He opened his eyes and snapped at Paul, "Don't want that, do you?"

Paul, unable to stop his hips twitching against Bob's leg, could only shake his head.

"Babe--" Bob coughed, "Baby, I can't s-stop it..."

John growled--or he meant to, but what came out was a whine. "Beg him not to, you dirty fuck."

"Please," Paul breathed. There were tears in his eyes.

"Please, what?"

A noise like a sob tumbled from Paul's lips. He clung to Bob's arm as if it were the only thing anchoring him to earth. "Please don't sneeze on me, Bobby, Jesus fucking--"

Bob shook his head, adamant that he couldn't avert the inevitable, but even so, John could hear him make little choked sounds, like he was trying to wrest control back. Desperate. Futile.

"Oh." John actually surprised himself with how quickly his climax came upon him. He was already about to crest the point of no return. "Holy Christ," he said softly, almost whispered, and Bob lost the fight.

"hhiH'kTCH'Shhuh!" Harsh as a bad cough, right in Paul's shoulder. All the more forceful for trying to hold it back.

"Bloody hell--bless ya--"

John bit his hand and came bone-shaking hard, just as Bob rattled off another vicious sneeze.

"Bless you." A voiceless sigh, all Paul could muster up.

Bob shuddered. "Sonofabitch," he said wetly, and sniffled to clear his voice. "That was big. That good for you, Johnny?" He still sounded three days into a cold, no different than before.

John sighed, half-laughed, shaking his head as he wiped his hand on his slacks. "Fuck off."

"Look at him, man. Snff." Bob dragged his knee lightly over Paul's crotch, provoking a strangled cry of pain and making him rut uselessly. "Hey, you're not using these, are you?"

Paul was beyond speech, fighting just to keep his eyes open and his body relatively still against Bob's lazy, rolling touch. But, with shaking hands, he reached for his waistband, and in a joint three-way effort, they got his shorts off again for Bob to use as a handkerchief.

John felt the blood start to fill him back in just looking at Paul. He was red all over, panting open-mouthed, a permanent furrow in his brow from the effort of trying not to give in. His cock was a mess, shiny with slick and darkened with blood.

"Come here," John prayed, and Paul whimpered softly as they pressed together for a kiss. The sound of Bob blowing his nose was just background static, white noise. John didn't notice it had stopped until Paul's head suddenly tipped back, his lips parting in a frantic moan.

John glanced down to see Bob's head in Paul's lap. His curls bobbed slowly as he sucked him off. "There's a good lad, Bob," John said in disbelief. "Fucking hell."

Paul moaned again, his eyes fluttering back. He was dangerously, cruelly close. John held tight to him and kissed him--not his lips, he wasn't going to close his mouth again until he came. John kissed his neck, his cheek, all he could reach. "That's it, love," he murmured, "we've got you. Nothing we wouldn't do for you. You get so gorgeous like this, God...so nice and good for us. Paul...Paul--"

Paul's body went rigid and he came at last, with a series of moans so high and desperate, so vulgar that John blushed. Below them, Bob raised his head, coughing and sniffling. His chin dripped as if he'd only caught about half, but he looked well pleased, even slightly proud.

"Well, you little devil," John said to Bob as Paul wilted onto his shoulder, "you satisfied?"

Bob sighed. "As good as. God." He tugged once at his trousers, shifting the fabric around his arousal, but he didn't seem hungry for it. Nothing like Paul. In fact, he had almost the contented glow of sex--though that could've been the wine. He wiped his mouth. "Just somethin' about a good sneeze, man. Quasi-...erotic. Orgasmic."

Paul made a soft noise of dismissal into John's sleeve, and John had to agree. "Nothing quite tops the real thing, though, does it?"

"No, sir," Bob chuckled.

Paul coughed very quietly, making John turn. "Y'okay, love?"

Paul pulled away to nod. He was rosy-faced, blinking away tears, biting down on a small smile. John had only just gotten used to it--the fact Paul got this way sometimes. Only after the most grueling sessions, when he was denied too long. The relief would be more than his body could handle, and he'd dissolve into tears. Of joy, he'd assured John time and again. Now, as before, the euphoria was plain to see, but he looked wrecked, fucked-out. He was shaking.

"Here." John patted the bed, and Paul lay down, wiping his eyes and snuffling softly.

With Paul taken care of, John gave Bob a deadly look and dragged him onto the bed by his collar. They kissed like they'd never quit, only now there was a little vengeance in it on John's part. Torture my bassist like that, will you. Bastard. He tossed him off quick and rough, taking no care to avoid soiling Bob's suit; hoping, actually, to leave a stain.

Bob didn't stop talking the entire time.

"I just can't get over, mmh, that--like that--oh. How much it turns you on...t' see him this way. And he's gettin' all red...pretty and--ohh. Mm...pretty 'n' pink. Babe. John. Just can't help it. I like it when you tell him, tell him what to do. And--ahhh--and me. Wanna do it for you too. Baby. That's...aah, Joh- John--!"

John smothered him with a kiss, worked him through his orgasm, stained both their suits. It was gentle, light, insubstantial. Waves swept over Bob softer and softer, until he was trembling above John, panting for breath, looking half asleep. He leaned down--John expected another kiss, but he only nuzzled their cheeks together, as if he hadn't the energy for more. With audible effort, Bob hauled himself into a prone position beside Paul. John heard a little peck and a pleased coo as Bob weakly kissed the crown of Paul's head.

It wasn't until he awoke minutes later that he realized he'd even lay down. Paul and Bob were still breathing heavily, and occasionally they'd snag as if to snore, but they didn't wake. Taking care not to move the mattress too much, John slunk off the bed and into the kitchen. His mouth was dry as a bone.

As he filled a glass with water, he felt an odd stir in his chest. Silly to even think about, really. It was the sight of Paul, wasn't it, getting all frustrated? That's what got John off. Bob, well...was Bob, and there was no diluting the attractiveness of that. But the rest of it--the sneezing bit, the whole garish display, that was for Paul's benefit, not John's. Lucky or not, he didn't rouse to that kind of thing. He didn't have the same kind of automatic reaction, anyway. His only consolation was the look of pure animal lust on Paul's face every time Bob--

Oh, shit. A fluttering rush filled John's stomach at the mere memory, the echo in his ear. His breath came short. His cheeks grew uncomfortably hot.

John took a deep, clearing breath and finished his glass of water. He could revisit that sometime (far, far in the future, preferably), when he'd had enough sleep. On weary legs, he made his way back to Paul's bed.