#not me though. everyone knows that i and everyone in my family fuckin hate that guy

[ink-asunder]

The fact that my infusion pharmacy is refusing to overnight the medication I need urgently. The fact that specialty medication can be overnighted in an emergency and they're just not gonna do it because they're lazy and cheap is going to kill me.

IT CAN LITERALLY BE OVERNIGHTED. I know because I HAVE overnighted this medication WHEN YOU WERE FORCING ME TO ORDER MY OWN FUCKING MEDICATION FOR 3 FUCKING YEARS. (Which the pharmacy I ordered it from was always in disbelief about because they didn't have any other patients ordering their own meds!!)

Omg omg omg I swear I'm not a luigi mangione copycat. You can find posts of mine from YEARS ago where I said if I was ever in the same room as this pharmacist I'd beat him to death with my bare hands

[writing-fanics]

don’t mess with the devil

Part ii

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

[warning: angst: mentions of death: death?]

Your movements became sluggish. The wound on your side bleeding more and more with each movement, and swing of your angelic weapon. “Can’t even hold a weapon.” Adam mocked, as she glared at him. Already tired and she looked down at her wound. “Who would’ve thought a fucking human, making a deal with the devil.”

“Was it for dick? It was for dick wasn’t it?” Adam laughed, and mocked. You let out a battle cry flying towards him.

You screamed in pain, as the yellow light shot right through your wing. Your wings started going weak, as you struggled to keep up with Adam’s attacks. He laughed and cackled, taking enjoyment in your struggle.

“Where’s your little boyfriend huh?” He mocked, as more and more yellow shots kept hitting your body. Until you could barely keep your body up, “awe, is he not coming to scared to show his fa-”a fist punched, Adam in the face. Causing him to let go of your chin, but you didn’t fall instead.

A pair of familiar arms held you, “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t be here sooner,” said Lucifer, as he nuzzled his head against his partner. Then lifted his head and glared at Adam, eyes fuming with rage.

“Sorry, for being so stubborn.” You mumbled, knowing this was the reason he didn’t want you to fight. Even though, he gave you some of his powers. You were still a human. He nuzzled, his head against yours once more. “It’s okay,” He said, as he landed on the rooftop.

He handed you off to Charlie, his daughter taking your injured body into her arms. She looked down at you worriedly, as you took shallow breaths. Your face battered cuts and bruises covered your face, and your right eye was swollen. Landing on the rooftop, walking towards Adam.

“Huh? Okay? Seriously?” Adam panted, as he stood up slowly. “How many of you freaks do I have to fight?!” He shouted, glaring at them.

Lucifer rolled up his sleeves, as he walked towards Adam. “Oh, I’m the only one that matters.” said Lucifer, as he looked up at Adam angrily.

“See, you messed with my daughter and my partner.” his eyes burning with rage. “and now I’m toning to fuck you!” he shouted, and everyone went silent as they stared at him dumbfounded.

Charlie leaned over, “It’s fuck you up dad?” Charlie whispered, and he looked confused as he raised his eyebrow, “Wait what did I say?” He said, and then Adam flew towards him sending them both into a wall. But Lucifer transformed into a white snake.

You could barely keep your eyes open, as the pain became worse. You didn’t know how much blood you were losing, but knew it was a lot. You were just a mere human, a human who fell in love with the king of hell. Him inevitably giving you some of his power in an act of love.

Your memories of how you ended up in Hell, a blur. You still figuring out a way to at least see your family again. But now that seemed to be in vain. You wondered if this was how it was going to end for you. You wondered, what would happen to you a human dying in hell?

Would you be dead forever no second life? Or would you just enter purgatory?

“So, this is what you’ve been up to since Eden?” said Lucifer, taunting him.

“Gotta say, you really let yourself go buddy.” He said, as he taunted Adam.

Adam laughs, as he grabbed Lucifer by the tail. “You judgin’ me?” He shouted angrily, as he tried to throw him. But he transformed again, this time into a duck. “You’re the most hated being in all of creation.” Adam shouted, angrily looking at him.

“Well, your first wife didn’t seem to hate what I had to offer.” said Lucifer, as he made a V shape with his fingers and dragged it downward from his mouth.

“or the second.” He said looking Adam straight in the face, “Bow-chicka-wow-wow.” He said, as he backed away making a thrusting motion with his hips. Adam lunched at him, and Lucifer transformed into a horse. Kicking him around, “I’ll fuckin’ end you!!” Adam shouted.

Your vision started to blur, as you leaned your head against the wall You didn’t want to die not like this, not without seeing your parents again. Wondering if they’re worried about their missing child, who they haven’t seen in almost a year.

You’ve been stuck in Hell for that long. Lucifer and You, still figuring out a way to get you back. But you always promised that you’d stay in Hell with him, and visit your friends and family once in a while.

Maybe this was to be your fate, dying in Hell. Where would your soul go? You couldn’t imagine the heartbreak your death would bring to both, Charlie and Lucifer. You couldn’t bear the thought of seeing them cry, you’ve grown to love them so much. Seeing Charlie as a child of your own.

Lucifer your partner. The best thing to ever come out of being trapped in Hell. He was so kind and caring, when he found out about your situation. Wanting to help you anyway he could, which led him to falling in love. How his heart swelled whenever you smiled at him, turning his cheeks red.

How seeing you cry made his heartache, knowing you missed your family and friends back on earth. How when that ‘Red Bastard’ at the Hazbin Hotel, took your hand and kissed him while staring mockingly at Lucifer. Boiled his blood.

A smiled grew across your lips, as you grew tired. You were too tired to even notice the beam of light, heading straight towards the hotel. Towards you. Everything went dark.

Y/n?

Y/n?

Y/n!

who’s calling my name?

[charmedreincarnation]

Ya bitch got into the void state

Champagne anon here and your mf girlll got in the mf void state and manifested her dream life. This happened a week ago, and I’ve been chilling but I do wanna share my story to help others. Gotta give Thanks to Maya, and so many other bloggers and even anon. Y’all hoes will forever be in my heart, and I’m forever grateful 🥹 also Maya girl you told me when I succeed to get into detail and I got nothing to do for the next two hours so imaaa just share it all here in detail.

I also wanna especially thank all the black creators on tumblr!! I didn’t know there were so many of us using the law. It always seems the world is so against us, and there’s nothing we can do abt it but nahhhh!! we can all live our best melanated lives regardless. Periodt, as we should it’s about goddamned time after everything we’ve been though 😂

Anyways!!!! after reading this: https://www.tumblr.com/charmedreincarnation/717864613626134528/im-your-bubble-anon-but-i-made-this-burner-to success story yesterday I got hella motivated. I read that shit and I thought I posted it on accident because it was everything I had been through, and had been thinking anyways. That anon ate your tumblr habits btw. If y’all haven’t seen my good sis’s sucess post go check that shut out rn, On god it will help.

At the end that anon (my mf dawg 🙏) included that they manifested for everyone. Now ion know if that shit actually work tbh. I’ve seen people say you can and can’t, but tbh the vibes were too high for me to doubt. I was like ight, okay fuck it, ima leave my dream life. Whether it me, that anon, or the devil himself ion give a fuck.

So that’s whatssss a bitch did!!! I just affirmed all day it was very fulfilling. People who hate on affirming are mad corny. I can’t lie that shit works hella fast even if you don’t believe it. Idk if that anon’s void manifesting helped or what but I didn’t do much and after 3 months of trying I entered the damn void state. I’m mad I thought I had to be on some ghandi shit to do this (no hate to him hes da man) but you rlly don’t y’all. BUT LEMME TALK MY SHIT ALL YOU NEED IS AFFIRMING AND PERSISTENCE.

Anyways I went go bed excited asl!! I wrote my script that was like 10 pages long I can’t lie I did the most… but it’s whateva. I woke up in the void state after waking up at 4 am or sum, and i was like oh shityyyt lemme manifest rq and skrttt out this hoe. So that’s what a mf did 😂😂

Anyways the part y’all’s is waiting for. This is what ya girl manifested

Desired face and body. I was in shock how all the details came to life. Y’all im a solid 100/10 it’s giving natural bbl and Aliyah. I swear to gahhh everywhere I go people be trying to peep. I’m not used to being treated like a fucking celeb everywhere I go, whole time it’s just my fat gyattttt

Being the hottest 16 yr old IT GIRL at my school, and having lucky girl syndrome. People call me a mini jayda wayda, but tbh I’m better than her now. No hoe is ever gonna cheat on meee like they did her…bye. She’s still gorgeous as fuck tho

Perfect school life. Your girl is set to be the Valedictorian when I graduate (my school has 4!) I’m also sophomore year President, captain of the basketball team, apart of some volunteer programs through my school, and so much more. My resume and college application is abt to be so fuckin fire in 2 years. As I should Columbia is a competitive ass school 😤😤 that aside everyone always tryna link, I got 3 guys fighting over me (whole damn love square), so many people tryna be my friends, teachers love me, and I excel in everything I do.

My Family being rich assss fuck. My dad got a Wikipedia now and his net worth is 22 million dollars. He owns a hedge fund company now, we love a man in finance 😍😍 AS HE FUCKING SHOULD. He got a material gurlll daughter. Two in fact now.

Fire ass crib. Bro it’s a 9 million dollar penthouse, perfect for ragers. I woke up here and my room is decorated to my personality, pintrest clothes all in my closet, I got an exotic pitbull and frenchie, and the house is just mad clean and fire, I’m obsessed with it. Rarely ever wanna leave now.

My mom not being strict. That bald headed ass hoe use to be mad annoying. Y’all know how Haitians are. Mad annoying as fuck and strict for no reason. Now I go out everyday and come home at midnight and no one gives a fuck. Everyone minds their own business as they should.

Having an older brother and younger sister. I was an only child, because I was a miracle baby bc my mom was infertile. Now she got 3 of us, so she can stop being only in my buisness. I’m just playin I love my mom regardless she’s just hella clingy. Anyways my brother is mad protective but also be wrestling mad aggressive for no damn reason. He gave me a bruise but it’s whateva Ima get my lick back. I also always wanted to be an older sister, bc I’d love to be a role model! My sister is 10 and adores me soo much it’s so adorable 🥹 lmfaooo, she’s mad spoiled by me and my mom but it is what it is.

Successful lip gloss business and being a successful drop shipper. Now you didn’t think a sista wasn’t gonna give herself a career just because I’m young right 🤨🤨 we’ll ya wrong. Ya girl is making 200k-400k a year. I barely even use my money cause I got an allowance from my parents… but still, financial literacy and wealth is so important to me especially as a black woman.

A pookie bae. Y’all know I wasn’t gonna deal with finding a loyal cute and funny guy in nyc. It’s like finding a needle in a haystack. Anyways I got me a fine ass boo. I just wrote down all the features I wanted in him like for exampleS finically secure so he can spoil me, handsome as fuck, tall, funny asl, kind, little clingy, deep raspy voice, nice hand, good hygiene and style,yanno yanooo !!! Plus some other shit and whewww the void did me so good. Nowww my boo bear is a lil cracker and I’ve never dated a white boy befuh but my am I surprised. I wake up everyday with some long ass appreciation texts and plans already made ! Y’all know I love me a dominant man who knows what he wants. He’s got some nice ass clothes, nice car and crib, made me a passenger princess and spoils me way too much. He doesn’t complain abt my mood swings and simps in the best way possible. Not to mention he’s fine afkkk he’s giving vinnie hacker. He’s also 6’1 and I’m 5’1 so that height difference is soooo hot I can’t lie I feel so so safe with him 🫣 I could go on all day but in short he’s more than perfect

+ so much more but this is what shocked me the most. Anyways I’ve been living like this for the past week and it just feel so natural. I keep forgetting I got into the void but whateva I’m the only who knows anyways. Anyways live yo best life and neva give upppp. I gotta go but I’ll probably eventually make a blog. My names angela so look out for it. I’m just mad lazy soo idk tho !!!

Angela out 🫡✌️

Girl this was so fun to read, I’m just as excited for you lmfao. I love seeing black women win, and thank you for sharing your methods! Enjoy your best life and come back if it resonates with your life bae !!!

[steddieas-shegoes]

hiii not sure if you’re still taking requests but

no upside down au where teen single dad steve approaches eddie after hellfire bc every parenting stuff keeps mentioning how reading to babies is super important for their development but his dyslexia makes reading so hard let alone be expressive w it too and the kids keep mentioning how eddie is amazing on dnd. eddie is skeptical cause how come no ones has heard of king steve’s one year old ? but he accepts when steve offers paying but after seeing steve w his baby and understanding how he changed he refuses the money and cue them slowly falling in love and becoming a family <333

Sorry this took *checks watch* like 9 months to finish! I kinda took some creative turns, but it's done!

read on ao3

rated t | 5,182 words | no cw | tags: mostly fluff, single parent steve, not canon compliant, mutual pining, getting together, love confessions

📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚

Early August 1985

“Steve, it’s not like he’s gonna fuckin’ bite, dude,” Dustin said from the passenger seat.

“Language.”

“She’s not even awake,” Dustin whisper yelled. “I promise he’s cool. The worst he’ll say is no. It’s not like he’s gonna bully you.”

“No one else knows I’m asking him this, right?” Steve was suddenly worried that all the kids knew about Steve’s learning disability and they’d think he was actually stupid and-

“No, it’s just me. But if you don’t hurry up and go in before everyone else gets here, they’ll find out.”

Steve glanced in the backseat, smiling to himself at his sleeping daughter. She’d been out for nearly the entire drive from his house to Dustin’s to the high school, so she’d probably be waking up within the next 20 minutes and she’d be ready to stretch her legs.

She was a squirmy thing from the moment she figured out how to scoot around the floor, and it only got worse when she learned to walk at 11 months. The only time she was still and staying out of trouble was when she was asleep.

“If she starts crying, just sit back there with her. She just likes having company,” Steve reminded him as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Yep. I’ve literally babysat for you before. I can handle her for 5 minutes.”

“Attitude.” Steve shook his head and opened the door, getting out and only closing the door most of the way so it wouldn’t wake her up.

Eddie always showed up 30 minutes early for Hellfire Club to set up according to Dustin. He took this club very seriously, even as a third year senior. He kept it running all summer so that incoming freshmen would have time to get acquainted with his style of DMing or whatever.

Steve respected the dedication, though he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe that dedication were put into his homework, he would’ve graduated in May with Steve.

But Steve couldn’t actually judge. Not with the fact that he was pretty close to not graduating himself. He had a pretty good reason, but still.

The auditorium door closed loudly behind him, making him jump and clench his jaw painfully.

“Door’s broken. You gotta hold it while it closes so it doesn’t slam,” a voice said from the door to the backstage area.

Steve squinted through the semi-darkness and felt his stomach turn. Eddie.

“I guess it’s been a while since I’ve had to open it. Figured they would have fixed it by now,” Steve replied, walking closer to the guy he needed to talk to.

“No shit! Is that King Steve? In the flesh?” Eddie’s dramatics were endearing, even if it was slightly annoying that he pulled out the stupid high school nickname he’d lost well before he graduated.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. This wasn’t gonna go well.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but none of your precious kiddos have made it yet. It’s still early.”

Steve nodded. “One of them’s sitting in my car in the parking lot. Um, Henderson? He’s an incoming freshman.”

“Ah. Dustin’s got a place in Hellfire if you’re worried. I don’t turn anyone away who wants to be here.”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Steve needed to just spit it out. “He said you’re like, great at storytelling or whatever. Like you’re the best DM he’s ever seen and he knows I could use those skills for something.”

“Oh? What could Steve Harrington need DM skills for?”

“My daughter.”

The silence following his confession was louder than the door slamming only a minute ago.

He probably could’ve revealed his motives a little better, work up to the fact that he even had a daughter maybe. Very few people actually knew, and he had to keep it that way until he could leave his parent’s house.

“Your…daughter.”

“Yes. She’s just turned one and the doctors said reading to her is like, super important for learning words and helping her learn how to have an imagination and stuff. And I do read to her!” Steve suddenly felt worried that Eddie would think he was a bad parent. “I try to. But I’m, well, Nancy says it’s dyslexia? So words are kinda hard and it gives me a headache if I try to read for more than a few minutes and I’m so busy focusing on the words I don’t think I’m making it very fun for her-“

“Woah. Steve. Slow down.” Eddie braced his hand on Steve’s shoulder and squeezed. “I didn’t even know you had a daughter. Does anyone know you have a daughter?”

“The kids do, yeah. My parents do because they kinda helped cover it all up and made sure I still graduated so I didn’t embarrass them or whatever.” Steve looked down at the floor, shoving his hands in his pockets. He didn’t really want to go through the whole thing with this guy. “Robin Buckley knows? She’s my best friend. The Byers and Wheelers, Hopper. Some teachers know but were sworn to secrecy.”

“Huh.”

Steve looked up to see Eddie stepping closer to him, soft smile on his face.

“So what do you need me for exactly?”

“Dustin said you’re really good at telling stories and I figured maybe you would be willing to read to her? Not every day, like I can work with your schedule or whatever. Evening would be best for me, but it’s not really a big deal if it has to be other times. She comes to work with me so if it had to be during the day, you could sit in the office or something, I dunno.” Steve shrugged. He hated asking for help. But Dustin insisted Eddie was actually a good guy and would keep his secret. No one who saw her at work assumed Steve Harrington was a single parent at 18. That would just be absurd. “I just don’t want her to miss out.”

Eddie’s hand drifted down his arm, holding his hand for a moment before he stepped back.

“My schedule is kinda random. But I’m sure we can work something out.”

Steve’s shoulders fell as his body relaxed. “Yeah? I can pay you. Not much. My parents mostly cut me off.” Steve was scrambling. “I can give you gas money and stuff for having to come to us. And like, food? I can cook.”

Eddie’s eyes were intense, watching his every move, making him nervous.

“How ‘bout a free trial? I’ll do it for a couple weeks and then we can see about payment.”

Steve nodded eagerly. “Yeah, yeah. Cool.” Jesus, he was embarrassing. What happened to his charm? “Would you be able to start soon?”

“Normally, I’d say I can come by after Hellfire, but I have an…appointment right after tonight. I can come by tomorrow?”

Steve smiled. “Tomorrow’s good. I work until five.”

“I can be at your house by seven.”

“Great! I have plenty of books. Right now, she’s really into Old Macdonald, but I think it’s just because it sorta sounds like her name and we get to make silly noises,” Steve smiled to himself, not seeing the way Eddie was smiling too. “I think she’ll probably like whatever you read to her, though.”

“What’s her name?”

“Mackenzie. Robin read it in a book and said it meant fire-born or something? It sounded cool. We call her Mac or Kenzie for short so she hears Macdonald and thinks we’re giving her another nickname,” Steve laughed. “Anyway, I better get back to the car. If she’s awake and Dustin has to deal with her crying for too long, he gets an attitude.”

“Mackenzie. I like it.” Eddie nodded once. “See you tomorrow, Stevie.”

Steve agreed and waved, turning around to leave. By the time he realized Eddie’s nickname for him, Eddie was already backstage.

****

Steve was nervous.

He nearly burnt the chicken he was cooking for dinner just from getting distracted by thoughts of Eddie being in his home.

He didn’t even know why. Maybe it was the fact that he’d always thought Eddie was kinda rough around the edges and was surprised he’d agreed so easily. Maybe it was bringing someone new into the small group he’d had around for a couple years. Maybe it was the way Eddie’s hand on his shoulder seemed to leave a permanent mark despite being one of the softest touches he’d felt from another adult in a while.

Mackenzie was in her high chair already, eating some of the noodles he’d made as a side. She’d been practicing using a fork, so quite a few had fallen on the floor, but Steve still smiled and told her she did a great job any time she managed to get one to her mouth.

The doorbell rang and Steve felt his heart stop.

“Daddy!” Mackenzie squealed when the bell rang. She knew that usually meant Hopper was here. Everyone else just came inside on their own. “Hop!”

“No, baby, not Hop. Not tonight. It’s my friend, Eddie. He’s gonna tell you a fun story, okay?” Steve ran his hands through her hair as he walked by to get the door.

When he opened the door, Eddie was standing there with a handful of books, a box of crayons, and what looked like a hairbow.

“I’m here to entertain the princess!” Eddie exclaimed. “Lead me to her highness!”

Steve couldn’t hide the grin on his face if he wanted to. “She’s currently trying to stab noodles to death. I’m sure you’ll be entertained.”

“Ah, they must have wronged her. I’ll assist,” Eddie made his way past Steve, walking towards the kitchen.

Steve knew he’d been to a couple of the parties he threw to sell, but had no idea he remembered the layout of his house. Maybe he had one of those picture minds.

As Steve entered the kitchen, he noticed that Eddie had set down the pile of books on the counter before he sat down in front of Mackenzie.

There were a few books he recognized: an ABC book that he was pretty sure he’d had when he was a kid but had since lost, a book of fairy tales with Rapunzel on the cover, something by Beatrix Potter, and a couple of coloring books that featured princesses and dragons and horses.

“She isn’t really old enough to color, is she?” Steve asked, interrupting what must have been a very amusing conversation of mostly babbling. “I don’t have any coloring stuff.”

“Coloring with skill? No. She definitely doesn’t have the motor skills to color in the lines or even use the right colors for the right things. But it does help her learn how to hold a crayon. My uncle couldn’t really afford much when I was a baby, so for every Christmas until I was in school he would get me new crayons and coloring books. I don’t really remember how I did, but I do remember having fun.” Eddie turned back to Mackenzie. “And sometimes it’s fun to just make a mess, right?”

Mackenzie clapped her hands together, sending the toddler fork she’d been using to the floor with a noodle attached to it. Steve wordlessly grabbed one of her spoons from the drawer and gave it to her, kissing the top of her head before he knelt down to pick up the fork.

Eddie watched silently, something soft about the way he didn’t interrupt anything even though he could’ve kept talking.

“I made chicken and pasta. It’s probably not my best work, but I made enough for you if you haven’t eaten yet,” Steve offered as he walked to the stove to start plating the food for himself.

“I wouldn’t turn it down. Wayne’s not exactly known for serving five star meals,” Eddie joked. “He believes in the power of fried bologna and cheese sandwiches with a bag of chips.”

Steve grimaced. “Okay, well I made enough for you to bring home some leftovers too.”

“You don’t have to-”

“You’re taking home leftovers.”

Steve turned to see Eddie’s widened eyes and open mouth that slowly formed into a smile.

“I guess I’m taking home some leftovers.” He turned to Mackenzie and tickled her neck. “Your daddy is pushy isn’t he?”

Steve blushed, but continued making up a plate for Eddie.

As they sat and ate, Eddie talked about all of his favorite books for little kids, and how he remembered sneaking into the library after school for years because he knew he didn’t wanna go home. He talked about the first time a teacher wrote a positive letter home, an English teacher who said his fictional essay was the best in the class and he should consider writing as a career. He even talked about his plans for the school year campaigns, but made Steve swear not to mention anything to the kids.

“I’ll know if you tell them,” Eddie winked.

Steve believed him.

When they were done, Steve grabbed Mackenzie from her chair.

“I’m gonna give her a quick bath if you wanna bring all that stuff to her room. Second floor, third door on the right. It’s a little messy right now. Someone decided to pull all her toys from her box yesterday and I haven’t had time to clean it up,” Steve tickled Mackenzie’s side, making her giggle and turn her head into his shoulder.

“You need me to clean this up?” Eddie asked, gesturing to the table.

“Nah, I’ll do it while you read to her.”

Despite his efforts, bath time was never truly quick. Mackenzie loved to splash around and play with her toys, and if he tried to wash her hair too quickly, she would be grumpy for the rest of the night. He definitely didn’t want that for Eddie.

He set a timer for 10 minutes and tried to explain to a very excited Mackenzie that when the timer went off, it would be time to wash her hair and get out.

“You wanna have time to play with Eddie, so we can’t play for too long in the water.”

She didn’t seem to pay any attention to him, already too busy making her rubber duck fight with her mermaid Barbie.

He observed while she played, bringing in the rubber car she liked to pretend to drive on the side of the tub.

When the timer went off, she let him wash her hair without a fuss, and he quickly wrapped her up in a towel to get her into pajamas.

Eddie was waiting in her room when he got there, coloring books spread out on the floor. He smiled up at them from where he sat, legs crossed, hands in his lap.

“Squeaky clean?” He asked, waving at Mackenzie.

“Definitely lacking noodles in places noodles shouldn’t be at least,” Steve said, making his way to her changing table to get her dressed. “She must be pretty excited about you being here. Usually bath time takes at least 30 minutes and I have to bribe her with chocolate milk to get out.”

“She knows we’re gonna have a lot of fun. I think I’m gonna read Goodnight Moon first. That’s one of my favorites.”

“She’ll love that,” he said as he buttoned the snaps of her onesie.

As soon as he set her on the floor next to Eddie, she reached for a coloring book with a mermaid on it.

“Daddy! Muh!”

“Yeah, baby, it’s a mermaid! Just like your doll in the bath.” Steve pointed to the fish next to the mermaid. “And that’s a fish. Fish swim in the ocean.”

He felt Eddie’s eyes on him while he pointed to some other sea creatures and told Mackenzie what they were.

Eventually, he looked over at Eddie, blushing at the soft smile on his face. “What?”

“You’re a really good dad, Steve.”

“Oh. Uh. Thanks,” Steve felt heat flood his body.

It’s not that no one had ever said that to him. Robin had told him plenty of times, Joyce had whispered it to him when no one else was paying attention, even Hopper had given him a handshake and said he was doing a good job once. But hearing it from Eddie, in this situation, when he’d been feeling like such a failure lately, was enough to make him want to cry.

He had to get out of this room.

“I should go clean up and leave you to it.”

“Sure, yeah. We’ll be right here.”

Steve booked it out of the room, rushing down the stairs to try to get busy with cleaning before his brain settled on crying over a compliment.

But the table was cleared. The high chair was wiped down. When he turned to the sink, the dishes were stacked up to dry in the rack. The counters were wiped, the dish towel had been put back on the handle of the oven to dry, and leftovers had been put in a container to finish cooling down.

Steve let the tears fall.

Fuck it, if Eddie was going to be this nice, he could have a little cry.

He walked quietly to the bathroom to put all the bath toys in the basket, but stopped outside Mackenzie’s bedroom when he heard giggling.

He’d closed the door halfway, just so she wouldn’t get too distracted if he walked by the room, but he couldn’t help looking in.

He felt like crying again when he saw Mackenzie sitting on Eddie’s lap, pointing at something in the book.

“Where’s the moon?” Eddie asked.

“Moo!” Mackenzie said, smacking at a place in the book.

“There’s the moon! Good job, little one.” Mackenzie leaned back against Eddie’s chest. “And where’s the…toys?”

She pointed again, but slightly less enthusiastically. Steve could see her energy dropping quickly.

He watched as Eddie told her she did a good job again and then continued reading.

Her eyes drooped more with every page. Eddie’s voice got closer to a whisper with every sentence.

Steve fell just a little bit more with every second that passed.

*****

October 1985

Eddie came every day. Despite the fact that Steve insisted he didn’t need to, that he didn’t want to ruin his schedule, Eddie showed up like clockwork at seven every single evening.

Steve learned to expect him, always made enough dinner for all of them to enjoy before Mackenzie had her bath and then got to read with Steve.

Every night, Eddie would clean up while she took a bath, and every night, he’d let her pick a page to color while he read something to her, switching to a bedtime story when she started crawling into his lap.

Steve would watch them often, laying down on the carpet and smiling as he listened to Eddie use different voices for characters, asking her questions so she was involved, and whispering when she started to drift off.

Other times, he’d try to get something done he’d been putting off, like cleaning the bathroom or folding laundry.

Eddie never accepted payment.

Steve tried bringing it up once school started, certain that this time spent here could’ve been better spent on homework or a part-time job that paid better than what Steve could offer. Eddie just shook his head and insisted that other than Hellfire every Thursday, he would be there for free.

They got to know each other over dinner, and Steve found that he was right to have butterflies every time Eddie smiled at him, every time he would touch his hand as he walked by to say hi to Mackenzie.

“Halloween costume ideas?” Eddie asked with his mouth full. Steve had given up long ago on trying to get him to wait until he was done chewing. It wasn’t that big of a deal. “What did this little miss go as last year?”

“Oh. She was a bumblebee.” Steve smiled at the memory. “Cutest costume I saw all night.”

“I bet.” Eddie took a sip of his water. “And you?”

“Oh, I didn’t dress up.”

“What? Why not?” Eddie sounded genuinely upset.

“Just got away from me, I guess? By the time I thought about it, nothing good was left at the store,” Steve shrugged, unbothered. He’d never been that into Halloween. His focus was making sure Mackenzie had fun.

“And no one offered to help you make something?” Eddie was no longer eating and Mackenzie had turned her attention to him when his tone became serious.

“I didn’t ask.”

“But no one offered.” Eddie stood up and walked over to his backpack. “Okay, we’ve gotta plan. Did you already pick something for her?”

He came back holding a notebook and a pencil, brows set in a straight line. Steve had never seen him look so serious.

“I had a few ideas, but I wanted to let her pick something at the store,” Steve said.

“Lay them on me.”

They discussed costumes for the next 30 minutes, but after only 10, Mackenzie whined to get out of her chair. Eddie wordlessly stood up and picked her up, setting her in his lap and letting her poke and prod at him and his notebook.

Steve watched them both, accepting for the first time that this wasn’t just a crush that was gonna go away.

He’d fallen completely head over heels for Eddie, and he had no clue what to do about it.

*****

November 1985

Steve was the only one who had space to host Thanksgiving.

He became manic a week before, realizing that his work schedule would not allow him to have much time to clean unless he did it at night. The problem was that he would get a migraine if he didn’t sleep.

“So let’s work on it together. I can come right after school. Cancel Hellfire this week,” Eddie offered.

“But you already won’t have it next week because of Thanksgiving. I can’t ask you to-”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. If I’m gonna be eating here, I should probably help clean up at least.”

So they worked on a little at a time.

Eddie wasn’t always helpful, getting distracted by some of the smallest things. But his company was appreciated all the same.

“You could invite Wayne, ya know,” Steve offered while he dusted the shelves in the living room. “Plenty of room and food.”

“Thanks, but he always works Thanksgiving day for the double pay. We usually do something the day after,” Eddie answered while he cleaned up all of Mackenzie’s toys.

“If he decides not to work, just let him know.”

“Will do, Stevie.”

He didn’t just help clean, he helped him do the shopping, too.

“I know it’s way harder with a baby, so if you give me a list, I can handle the shopping,” Eddie said while Steve plated their dinners.

“You don’t-”

“Have to, I know. But I can and will.” Eddie’s hand brushed against Steve’s lower back. “Let me help.”

Steve could barely resist the shiver that took over his entire body.

“Okay. Sure.”

Some of the brands were wrong, and he forgot the apples for the apple pie, but Steve still felt immense relief knowing that he had someone to help.

And without it, Thanksgiving would’ve been a disaster.

It was still a bit of a mess, but that was mostly because the kid’s table turned into a food fight that Max started and Mackenzie, of course, continued, until everyone was involved.

But the picture Jonathan took would get framed and hang up near the fireplace in the living room anyway.

******

December 1985

“I cannot believe you waited until Christmas Eve to wrap gifts. That’s not what parents actually do, is it?” Eddie asked as he fought with the tape dispenser for the fifth time in less than an hour.

“I don’t know if I’m the best judge of what parents do. Mine weren’t around much and probably didn’t even wrap my gifts themselves.” Steve took the tape from him, pulled some loose from the roll, and handed it back. “But I kinda always pictured it like this.”

Robin made him swear he’d talk to Eddie about his feelings before the end of the year. The end of the year was soon, real soon.

What better shot did he have than while Mackenzie was asleep and they were wrapping presents together?

“You pictured last minute wrapping with bribed help in your living room?” Eddie asked, amusement in his tone.

“Not exactly,” Steve huffed out a laugh. “More like spoiling my kid with someone I care about.”

Steve watched Eddie’s hands freeze against the clothes box full of new finger puppets they’d both gotten her. He looked over and felt his stomach swoop as Eddie’s eyes found his.

“Stevie-” Eddie set the box down and turned to face Steve.

“Wait, I just. Before you break my heart, hear me out.” Steve already felt his world shrinking, his heart rabbiting in his chest at the thought of losing Eddie entirely. “I’ve spent a lot of time with you for months. Like, more than almost anyone else. I’ve watched you with Kenzie, and how much she loves you and always asks for ‘Ed’ even when it’s way before when you’re gonna be here. You make me smile and laugh and that’s not always easy to do these days. You helped me when you didn’t have to, when you had absolutely no reason to trust that King Steve was a better person. You’re there for all the other kids even though you’re trying to get through school for real this time. I didn’t really plan a big speech, sorry. This is just rambling, I’m doing what Robin does.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie placed his hand on the side of Steve’s neck. “I get what you’re saying.”

“You do?”

“I think so.” Eddie stepped in closer. “But I think you might just be lonely.”

It stung. It wasn’t inaccurate, but it still hurt to think Eddie thought so little of him.

“I think I know how I feel.”

Eddie’s hand dropped from his neck and he took a step back. “I don’t wanna argue, Stevie. I just think you might need to separate yourself from the situation. I’m just always around, ya know?”

“You’re always around because I want you around!” Steve was just a bit too loud, but he knew Mackenzie was a heavy sleeper. “When you aren’t here, I check the clock to know when you will be. I get excited to leave work now because I’m not coming home to do the same thing I always did before. I get to see you and hear about your day and talk to you about mine and see you with my daughter, who probably loves you as much as I do.”

“You…love me?”

“Yes. I do. And I promise it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I still want you here, reading to Kenzie. But I know how I feel. I know why I feel the way I do. You can’t tell me how to feel.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to.” Eddie sighed. “I’m just kinda surprised. Didn’t expect you to be into guys, let alone me. I’m not exactly good boyfriend material. Or stepparent material, either.”

“Oh, fuck that. You’re more her other parent than her mom ever was. She gave her to me the moment she had her and wished me luck before her entire family moved across the country.” Steve felt tears in his eyes. “I trust you. I want you around. I love you.”

Eddie swallowed, eyes pointed towards the carpet.

A minute passed, two. It was rapidly approaching awkward when finally Eddie spoke.

“But I’m so bad at wrapping presents.”

Steve snorted, but felt relief wash over him. “I can do the wrapping. This Christmas, next Christmas, as many Christmases as you’ll stay.”

“All of them?”

“Sounds good to me.” Steve leaned in slowly, let his hands grasp at the front of Eddie’s shirt to pull him closer. “How many Christmases do kids usually believe in Santa?”

“I dunno. I stopped believing when I caught my dad stealing the two presents under our tree when I was four.” Eddie let his hands fall to Steve’s hips. “But something tells me the little princess will be a believer for a while. Better get used to me ripping holes in the paper and using too much tape.”

“Think I can handle it.”

Every time Steve had pictured kissing Eddie before this, he’d thought it would be like any other first kiss, maybe a little awkward since it was his first with a guy.

Instead, it was soft, sweet, slow, perfect. He’d kissed a lot of girls in high school, had kissed them well. Not all of them were great, but even a less than good kiss was still decent.

This was more than any other kiss he’d ever had.

Eddie held him like he would never let go, like this kiss would last forever.

It couldn’t, but that’s how it felt.

When they finally pulled apart, Steve rested his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“You wanna stay tonight? We can both do the Santa gifts with Kenzie before all the kids bother us,” Steve asked.

“I should call Wayne. I told him I’d be home by midnight.”

“He can come over in the morning, too,” Steve said. “If you want.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for Wayne? He can be a little…gruff.”

“I’m not worried,” Steve kissed Eddie’s cheek. “Hopper’s basically my dad. Plus, Mac’s got a way of breaking the tough old men down.”

“Bets?”

Steve pulled away and started wrapping another present before he got too distracted. “I give it ten minutes.”

“Oh, how generous. I’m giving it five.”

They both laughed as Eddie decided he’d be more help putting already wrapped presents in her stocking and under the tree and making sure everything was put away when Steve was done.

And for the first time, Eddie stayed the night, holding Steve against his chest while they slept.

They both cried when Mackenzie opened her presents excitedly. She was too little to do it herself last year, so seeing her tear through the paper and find joy in throwing it around the room was like a dream come true for Steve.

Eddie admitted he felt like he was intruding for some of it, but Steve quickly reminded him that he was the first person she toddled over to with her new set of princess books and said “Ed, read.”

She sat in his lap right then, even though she still had quite a few presents to open, and he read every single book to her, making her giggle with his high-pitched voices for the princesses and silly accent for the prince.

By the time the kids were coming through the front door, Steve was rushing to shush them, pointing at the couch where Eddie was passed out with Mackenzie curled up against his side.

Steve was never happier than in this moment.

Until the next one, and the one after that.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Games Played

As children, we learn to play the Quite Game.

It's rather simple. You scrunch down real small, ball yourself real tight, and find the bestest most hard to reach hiding spot you can! Then? Oh THEN, children, we all get really, REALLY quite. Until mummy or daddy find you. And no matter what, no matter WHO, you Do Not Move, until THEY come and find you.

Not for treats. Not for hugs. Not for threats or scary noises.

No. Matter. What.

To the others, it was a game. But to me? Born just a bit... different? I looked my parents in the eyes, saw the fear that lived there. That hunted them and haunted their dreams. I watched the way they acted. Guarding me. Never letting me wander. Keeping me between them as they slept. Holding me, shielding me. Both whispering their lessons, their love, each moment they could.

And I knew it was no game.

I was an obedient child. Perhaps that is why I lived, where others did not.

Or perhaps? It was my vague, half remembered, knowledge of this world. To be more exact, the chronological series of Otome games, set in this world. Endless streams of political and social clusterfucks, that cast the map into conflict after conflict, all for the selfish romances of a few. Pseudo-historical straight to pseudo-modern magical realism.

Clans of mages. Elves, werewolves, the whole shebang. All trapped in an endless cycle of conflict. Sometimes silent, sometimes open. Always, soaked in blood.

But hey... at least the Protagonist is happy! Right?

We should be furious. We should HATE them.

Our Clan? Did shadow magic. Unfortunately. Because unsurprisingly, Otome troupes ran true, and we? Have a complete Edgy Little Fuckboi as our Clan Heir. Worse still, I RECOGNIZE that Edgy Little Fuckboi! The fucking chuunibyou is a romance target!

I'm sorry, I was under the impression the Clan Heir's job was to KEEP US ALL ALIVE! Not get your DICK WET! But, my bad! My fucking MISTAKE! How COULD I have BEEN so foolish! You go on, then! Just piss RIGHT off, and leave the rest of us to suffer, while you chase SOMEONE ELSE'S GIRLFRIEND!

Fuckwit!

Ha ha.... oh god. We're all gonna die. Aren't we?

We should trust Alphard. No one else understands us.

Everyone? Absolutely fucking EVERYONE? Waves it off. 'Just a phase' and 'he's young, he'll get it out of his system'. As though the problems doesn't run deeper. As though the Clan Head isn't an old man, barely holding us together. As though he isn't planning to hand it all over to a chuunibyou who refuses to sit still and LEARN ANYTHING. Who picks fights he expects US to win for him. Expects US to die for him.

So he can look 'cool'.

Alphard is basicly running this place. But does the Clan Head care? No. Because Alphard is a 'half-breed'. Because ALPHARD has the audacity to be, what? Fire Mage?! Oh dear god! Not ANOTHER GROUP OF HUMANS!? Gasp! Shock! Someone call the fantasy church! Fuckers.

Ooooh but their TEMPER! Everyone knows how UNSTABLE they are!

We should show them 'Unstable'. Make them regret what they've done.

'Bout to see up close and in person MY 'temper' and 'unstable' fuckin BOOT, old man!

No, I don't care if that made sense! Shut up! Fuck you! I get to be upset, okay!? This is nepotism and it's dangerous! And... and NO ONE LISTENS TO ME! It's like they're merrily marching towards a cliff and calling ME paranoid for pointing it out! Telling me to calm down. To stop exaggerating. It's a CLIFF!

The only one who listens? Is Alphard.

Alphard is our friend. Alphard listens to us. We should Trust Alphard.

Storming towards his office, shadows writhing in my wake, I seriously wonder. Would I have gone completely apeshit by now with out him? Left the clan? I don't know how he can bear it. The weight of their stubbornness. Their wilful blindness, which IS going to get people hurt. Killed. Probably already fuckin has.

How many more clansmen do we have to LOSE?

They'd tucked him away in some side wing, like some dirty little family secret. I'd always hated it. Big whoop! He gets two powers instead of one! Jealous ass little shits. It was fear and politics. I KNEW it was! He refused to say so, but I KNEW. And no amount of pained smiles and changing the subject would make me drop it!

It wasn't RIGHT.

God, the more time went on? The angrier I felt about it. The more it burned me. Ate me up inside. It's like my temper just...? Gah! Fuck this and fuck THEM! We don't need them! We should leave! Just the two of us. Go and never com-!

.....wait a second... that's not... right....

My head pounds with the worst sort of migraine. Shadows hissing like angry cats, as they crawled viciously around my head. Chasing whisps of something they can't seem to catch. I stopped between hallways. In one of our Clan's many, MANY shady areas. Leaning more into the darkness... helped. Made my head hurt less.

God, I've got to talk to talk to Alphard about this. It's starting to really worry me. The anger, the snarling flare ups, the dark moods. Not to mention the obsessive thoughts. It wasn't like me. Might be a curse? Maybe. Could be fire magic or related, so he would know. And if not? Well, nothing beats Fire for burning curses away.

....actually, Light, might. But we are A PROUDLY BIASED household here, thank you. So like? Not gonna SAY Shadow magic is BEST magic... BUT it absolutely, totally IS. And Alphard? OBVIOUSLY the greatest Fire Mage alive! No I will not be taking questions, thank you and goodnight.

We should see Alphard, we miss him.

Yeah... yeah I do really miss him, dont I? Where is he?

My head throbs viciously. Ow. It's been getting worse. My control too. My shadows fighting me at every turn. Which? Scares me more. Because YEAH, others? Have been big on the 'beat them into submission' tract of Shadow Mastery. But ME? No, no. I know for a FACT. You can not rule through fear. Not for long.

Bribery and alliances work wonders. Friendships and love. My shadows get FED. They get CUDDLES. I take my shadows for enrichment walkies and give them interesting puzzle boxes to play with. They fuckin LOVE me. Would meat thresher through CITIES if I asked.

So to suddenly Stop Listening?

It means they think I'm... I'm not myself. They are making the executive decision to act on my behalf, to protect me, even if they have to do so FROM me. And... and I don't know what's causing it. Don't know what's wrong or how to fix it. I'm getting scared.

Because something is very wrong.

Everything is fine.

Another wave of vicious hissing, of throbbing pain in my head. This time though... THIS time? I think I felt that. The discordant thoughts. The contradiction. That isn't me. There's something in me head that DEFINITELY isn't me! No there isn't. No WONDER my Shadows are so pissed! Fuck!

I stick to the darker hallways. It helps with concentration, the pain. Whatever is in my head? Is like sticky, burning, spiderwebs. Like trying to grab at thin lines of super heated metal, covered in tar. How... how LONG has it all BEEN there?

You should leave it. You don't know what you're doing. You could get hurt.

Oh fuuuuck YOU. Get out of my HEAD! Where is Alphard?

I stumble down the final hallway to his so called 'office'. It was a guest room once. As a kid, I helped him convert it. Back when the old fuck refused to step down, despite his son and heir, the next clan head, being DEAD. And? AND!? That Heir's fuckin chuunibyou kid being a tiny, insufferable, brat.

We get it! You're hurting! EVERYBODY'S hurting! Your fuckwit parents got HALF THE WARRIORS KILLED! We STILL haven't recovered from that. And Edgy pants goes on and ON about the 'glory of his ancestors' as though? He's not talking about his PARENTS. One generation fucking BACK!

That family ORPHANED me. But do you see ME starting shit? No!

Yet? God forbid the Old Bastard do what's RIGHT for the Clan! No, no! Between a literal infant, a FUCKING ZYGOTE, and a fully grown adult? Better pick the baby! Who CARES that Alphard was the better choice!? Chuunibyou brat is BLOOD! And we CAN'T have the 'half-breed' nephew in charge!

Better connections? More accomplishments? Fully trained and, once again, AN ADULT? All irrelevant. He's too fucking well liked! Too TRUSTED! Too much a THREAT to your precious little legacy and hold on power. So hey, fuck the rest of the Clan! Right? Why would WE need competent leadership!? You can just shove all the work you can no longer DO, on to Alphard.

Force him to rule in all but name. All but honor and title. Spit in his face then tell him to thank you.

Bastard!

He isn't there, in his over crowded office. Piles of paperwork. Empty tea cups, long cold. Mismatched pillows I'd stolen from around the compound, to make it feel less depressing. His classy art pieces mixing with my cheap, shitty ones. The souvenirs I'd brought back, again and again, because I do not forget my friends.

My head hurts so bad. How long has it been building?

Another wave of pain, as my Shadows hissing and growl in outrage, writhing like electric snakes around me. Safe and stronger, here in the unlit office of a friend. They want 'it' out. Hunt and hunt, but can not catch hold. How strong must the caster be? Older then me, probably. Far more experienced. I've been pretty diligent.

They'll stand no chance, though, against Alphard.

He's the best curse breaker I know. Honestly? He's the best at a lot of things. It's been great to learn from him. And he's? Gonna lose his SHIT. He already worries when I go out without him. But to find out somebody slipped a curse on me? Ooooh, shit. I'd almost laugh, if my head didn't feel like it was in a VICE.

Man's gonna feed them their KNEES.

As a PASTE.

.......I wonder, now that I think about it? Looking around the crowded office space? If Alphard has any pain meds? He SHOULD. There's no way in hell, he deals with chronic stupid all day without headaches. He should? Definitely have something for this. Probably. Might not actually FIX it, since it's magic based, but it can't HURT.

Decided, I get up. Slowly. Spread my shadows out. They love doing simple, achievable, tasks. Like 'find the box!' Or 'open this puzzle!', usually for treat rewards. (Cup time, usually. Or bits of my food. But honestly? They LOVE cup time. They like to hide under it and push it around the floor. Each group of them have favorite cups.)

Nothing but paper, cups, snacks, a couple piles of pillows, and a coat I had forgotten. Huh. Maybe his desk? Would make the most sense I suppose. It'd be on hand. Head and neck, one big regret, I stiffly shambled over. Organized chaos. More nonsense and damages caused by chuunibyou and his sycophants, in the name of luuuuuv~. God damn it.

At least no one died... this time.

I tear my eyes away from the top page. The one next to it? Shouting reports. Elves: pissed, werewolves: pissed, everybody: pissed. Guess who's fault? Oh fantastic! So THAT'S why he's not in his office. Probably trying to keep us all from dying. Another report after that. Protagonist-chan.... wow that's unflattering. Word it a little harsher, why don't you?

My eyes absent-mindedly keep scanning, as I look for a med box. Some sort of pill bottle. Something that might hold headache medication. Nothing on top of the desk. Drawer? Should be top right one, right? Since he's right handed? Easiest to reach. Let's see... pens, pens, spellwork paper, brushes, mints, bottle! AaaHAH! I hold it up to what little light there is and squint.

Wow. That's pretty strong. And not just for headaches.

.....should I have a talk with Alphard? Probably. Maybe? Definitely keep an eye on this. Don't wanna be jumping to conclusions, here. Still! Helpful. Down the hatch!

I pop back one of his pills, stealing one of his fancy tea in a can. He may complain, but we both know he won't stop me. Nor does he even mean it when he does. I'm like this sorta needy, demanding, housecat. I wander in, eat his food, tell him to pay attention to me, then wander off. Should have known better then to feed me, that first time~! He got stuck with me ever since.

Briefly a burning wire escape my grip. We should-Stop THAT! I beat it back down. Violently. It's taking a lot more concentration, more pain, then I'd like to admit, to fight it. Damn near wack a mole in my brain. There's no-CEASE! Desist! You are NOT welcome! Get! GET!

The pain meds are definitely helping. A LOT.

In fact...? Huh. Looking around? Without the pain to distract me? Those... aren't my shitty art works. Not the meme-y ones I bought, that I thought he'd like, nor the pieces I made in various art classes. They're just...? Random cheap art.

What the fuck?

Was Alphard ROBBED? Also? Where are HIS pieces? That one with the lady and the clearing? The couple dancing near the lake? That little statue? It's all random snobby fake art. Like someone wanted to give the IMPRESSION that nothing had changed, but had cleared out everything personal...

Alarmed. I looked down at the can I grabbed. It was the kind he offered to guests. Kept for me. Because... because he couldn't STAND it. Too sweet. Tearing the mini fridge back open? Nothing but cheap tea cans and teas he hated remained.

I slammed it closed. Urgently reached for the tea cubbies. Fancy LOOKING teas. The kind Alphard always makes fun of. Quality is in the tea, not the pretty pictures on the box, he says. His tea is GONE. Worse? MY drinks are gone! Why are MY drink-? The coat!

My hand snaps out. The coat flung into it by my shadows. The instant it touchs my palm, I know it is wrong. Too rough and too new. Some modified mimicry that my shadows could tell apart from the original. It's not their fault. They don't have senses like mine. I stare at it, feeling a building sense of panic, before look back up at the room around me.

Is... is ANYTHING where it should be?

Gaze snapping from place to place, shaking as the panic starts to swallow me whole, I realize... No. Not a single thing. It's all staged. Made to LOOK like nothing's wrong. When... when everything IS. Oh god. Where is Alphard? What the FUCK have they DONE to him?!

I drop the coat. The drink. Adrenaline slamming into me like a truck. Slamming the door open, I flood the hallway beyond with writhing, furious night. I AM Shadow and it IS Me. We run. Hunting, hurting, FURIOUS. If they have hurt our friend? If they DARE have-!

A howling whistle splits the night, closer, Closer, BANG. The compound rocks with the force of the explosion. The wards hiss to life like great titans of black sand. Ink dark, they nerely block out all light. Casting eerie spell light over the buildings below, as lights flip on. More whistling. Booms.

We are under attack.

For an instant, I am torn in two. Half of me? Demands I find my friend. They other half? Knows that I must protect the Clan. We stand together or we DIE together. Loyalty wins out. My parents, Alphard, the people I care about, they would never forgive me, if I abandoned my post now.

I turn from my hunt. Race towards the ward stones out front. I'll have to help the others reinforce them. Lend the Clan my strength. As long as they can't get in? We should be-

The wards SHUT OFF.

Even as I run, fast as I can, I watch with horrified eyes... as they slide back away. No. No no NO! They should do that! That CAN'T DO THAT! That's IMPOSSIBLE! Those are SEIGE Wards! Built over generations! Hundreds of mages poured power into them! Went over them with pin prick combs! They don't 'malfunction'!

Oh god. Please, God, NO!

Did someone SHUT THEM DOWN?!

Ahead, the sounds of violence and chaos draw near. Above, I can finally see what's raining down on us. It's war magic. FIRE war magic. Thrown from air ships, who's spotlights bathe the compound in a terrible, all consuming light. All the better, to prevent our Shadows from reaching even a single one of them.

Someone told. They didn't know about that limitation to our powers before. Our front gate! Open! Traitor, traitor, TRAITOR! WHO!?

Across the chaos, the bloodshed and death, familiar color catches my eye. Explosions and spotlights light him from above. The airships blades, kicking up leaves and dust. That familiar, familiar color. From his Father.... the fire mage.

Alphard stands so calmly, one hand still resting on the command stone for the wards. As chaos reigns around him. The pleased little smile on his face, the one he wears, when all his plans come together, ever so nicely. No. Please. No.

His eyes are so cold. So flat.

He feels nothing as they die. Doesn't even glance, at the kinsmen desperately calling his name. Dying at his feet. He... he doesn't look away. Just raises one hand, one finger, and...

"Shhhhhh~ Be. Good." He says, utterly silent in his betrayal.

My world shatters.

I run.

Slamming my palm against the evacuation alarm, sirens begin to blare. It's over. It's all... all fucking over. How could he? H-How COULD-? Grief wants to choke me, blind me, but I don't have the TIME. I have to get out. Survive. I.. I can cry later. Mourn for the friend I THOUGHT I had, later. I trusted him. FUCK, I TRUSTED him!

I skid around the corner, heading towards the closest exit. Gotta grab my bug out b-!

Shadows in the darkened hallway surge, up and over, like a heavy hand slamming down. I barely drag myself out of the way. Lose my footing as I do. Go crashing to the floor. Scrambling, I turn as my shadows hiss, only to be met with deeper rumbling thunder. Shit. No!

I try to get up. Fling my self up into a run. Only to meet a shadow formed backhand. Smashed, thrown. Finding myself slammed back, onto the floor, wheezing. The air knocked out of me. Lightly, dark shapes takes form. Alphard stepping through blank and barren wall, using the Shadows under his control as a medium.

Not a hair out of place.

Just the two of us.

Alone.

"Why the rush, mischief?" He teased lightly, as though my world was not collapsing, all around us. As though my best friend had not betrayed me, betrayed US, to our doom. Up and down the hall, sirens blared. "You look upset."

I snarled. Grief and betrayal twisting into something ugly in my chest. Hand whipping out, I aimed for his fucking throat.

"Ah~, you're mad. Is this because I didn't consult with you first? Mischief, there was so much to do! You know you hate all those boring political meetings. Alliance work and archival research. Sweetie, there were stake outs! You hate those."

Effortlessly, he leaned out of the way of my attacks, looking amused and unbothered as he continued to speak. I RAGED. Screamed. Taking chunks of the wall behind me, to use as projectiles. Anything. Anything, anything, ANYTHING! Just HURT, damn you! TRAITOR! How COULD YOU!?

In the distance... the haunting, damning, final cries of my kin, as the died.

I Trusted You!

"I know~" he laughed, as though nothing had changed. As though this were a fucking GAME! "It was so easy, too."

His voice became two toned in a way that could only be magic. One that was heard, one that was felt. One that... that I had...! Realization did not crash. It seeped, like the cold and fatal poison it was. His betrayal was not NEW... was it? Not SUDDEN.

I... I had been betrayed long, long ago.

No you weren't. Alphard loves you~

How long had he been in my head? He was my magical instructor. I had hated the Clan's main teachers. Right? DID I? Could I even know? H..How much? For HOW LONG?! I was a CHILD! Had no defenses against the manipulations of my mind! Would you really stoop so LOW?! Was ANYTHING real!? ANY part of out friendship-!?

I choked, on the sob I refused to let him have. He... he didn't have the RIGHT.

"Oh, Mischief." He said, sounding mournful as he strolled easily through the ruins I had created around us. "Don't cry. Shhh, shhhh. It's okay, dear. You're upset. This is upsetting, I understand that. But we will preserver, overcome, and together? We will get through this."

We? There was no 'WE'. N-Not anymore. Not after THIS.

"Oh but that's where you're wrong, Mischief." He breathes out, like the confession of the truely insane, his voice soft. Yet, somehow? Bonechilling in how loud it seemed.

"I get you."

"That's the first thing I demanded, after all! No more idiots. No more dead weight. No insults, fools, or brats I can't break! Ha ha! Just me and my Mischief! Free at last! And all it cost me? Was my chains. Best of all? All the idiot Fire brat wanted for it all? Was his 'competition' out of the way! Ha ha ha! Gods bless, usefull fools!"

He stood before me now. Head thrown back, hand over his eyes in disbelief, as he laughed and laughed. Unhinged with his euphoria. With the machinations, that had lead to his victory. And... and I could not recognize him. This... this monster wearing the face of my best friend. I felt numb. Cold and far away. I... I just... I wanted to go away... please, God. Far, far away.

Stop it. Please, Alphard... Stop it...

P-please...

My shadows curled around me. Battered, torn, but ever loyal. They would not leave me. Not even now. Not even to save themselves. Weakly hissing. Thrashing, trying, in their own small ways, to appear bigger and stronger threats then they were. In... in the vain hope that... that the thing that was hurting us? Might believe them.

Might leave me alone.

I had never felt so unsafe, surrounded by the shadows sworn to my once friend. How many times? How many times? Had I fed and played with these very Magics? Snuck them charcoal? Interesting toys to burn? Creatures of fire and shadow. Massive and rumbling, the very Shadows that once played with my own... now tore them apart.

It burned. Hurt. Who...? WHO was this man? This monster? That wore my best friends face? I couldn't... I can't... please! God, please! Don't make me do this anymore...

My mind, somewhere between delirious and screaming, for some god forsaken reason? Reminded me of the Quite Game. I... I wondered, terrified and full of grief, if the children would know to run. Not to wait, for parents that... that would not be coming. Not this time. Not ever again. All because of this man.

The smoke on the breeze terrified me. Everything terrified me. How? How could I possibly hold so much fear? How could there possibly be MORE? Just as I think I can not feel it anymore deeply. Once again, Alphard teaches me I am wrong. This... this is not how he, is... is supposed to be... how WE are...!

"Oh sweetheart, mischief, darling..." He again attempted to sooth, hand slipping away from his face as he rolled his head down to peer at me. Kneeling with almost boneless fluidity. "None of that. No more tears. Alphy's here, okay? I know change is scary. And you're upset and confused. But Alphy loves you just like always, and nothings gonna happen to you, alright?"

"Remember how you wanted to travel before? See those festivals? Go abroad? We get to do that now! Alphy can take CARE of you, now. Properly. Get you all the things you deserve. It'll be great, Mischief. No more stress or tears. Cuddles for days. You'll love it, I promise."

From beneath his feet, spreading like a terrible rot, black fire spread. It didn't touch me. Couldn't, as it seemed to reach, with greedy hands, down the halls. Consuming the only home I'd ever known in this life. Consuming everyone it touched, if the distant sounds of panic, were any indication. He was killing them all. Friend, foe, what difference was there?

Everything burned.

Numb, I could only sit there, before the stranger I thought I'd known.

"Our love story's been a long time coming, sweetness. My perfect, beautiful, Mischief~♡. Once we're free? We'll never look back. Have the happily ever after we deserve. Let the rest of the burn."

"I'm so glad I found you, Mischief. So glad I made you mine. It's going to be beautiful, darling. I promise. You'll thank me."

"Now come here, to Alphy. We're gonna play a game~♡"

[kayharrisons]

Really fucked it up this time, didn't I my dear? [Bjorn x fem!Reader] [2 of ?] [18+ only!!!!]

How it all began.

A/N: my brain is currently only rotting for this fic atm soooo there might be a lot of chapters for this LMAOOOO onto chapter 2! It's mostly backstory with some smut sprinkled in ehehehe both Bjorn and Reader do QUESTIONABLE THINGSSSSS

Series warnings: unplanned pregnancy, discussions of abortion, eventual childbirth, commitmentphobe Bjorn, possessive Bjorn, talks of morning sickness and other pregnancy symptoms, friends to fwb to something Worse, cheating mentions, some degrading speak, nsfw content such as sex and eventual Alien type scenarios

Part 1

Next Chapter

"We can't keep doing this," you gasp into Bjorn's ear, legs wound tight around his waist as he thrusts deeper and deeper inside of you, his groans a muffled melody against your throat. "It's- oh fuck, right there- wrong and- and unfair to- to-"

What the fuck was your boyfriend's name again?

Bjorn smirks against your skin, salty from sweat, from activity, from-

Well, your best friend plowing your brains out. Again.

It was unhealthy. It was wrong. You couldn't stop.

"I'll stop when you do," he sing songs, nipping against your throat. You swat the back of his head, chiding. He wasn't supposed to leave a visible mark, after all. He growls a curse against your throat, looking up at you through his sweat soaked fringe. "Don't you fuckin' try and tell me what to do, love. We both know that's not how you like it."

You let out a grunt of frustration, because fuck he's right, but it tapers off into a whine as his dick brushes against that sweet spot inside of you.

You fucking hate it when he's right. The smug prick.

But damn, if he doesn't know what he's doing with his dick.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

You don't recall how it started, really.

You and Bjorn had always been close, you've been best friends since you were ten, for fucks sake. His home became your second home, his family your family.

Your lives are so intertwined that you can't even begin fathoming trying to figure out where you end and he begins.

Where you went, Bjorn followed. Where he went, you followed. Attached at the hip.

It was perhaps a little co-dependent, how heavily you both relied on one another. But with the way life in Jackson's Star was... well, was it really so bad that you held him near and dear to your heart?

You didn't realise that you were in love with him until you were seventeen, until you brought your boyfriend around to meet your friends.

Everyone had been polite, respectful, had welcomed him with friendly smiles and looted beer.

Not Bjorn, though.

Your best friend had been dead silent, staring daggers at your boyfriend. He hadn't moved from his seat; legs spread apart and arms crossed across his chest, slouching as he glowered through his fringe at the hand wrapped around your waist as if his stare alone would singe it off.

Neither of you were any good at sharing the other. Amongst your inner circle, yeah, sure, couldn't be helped. But to outsiders...

"I don't like him," Bjorn informs you, sullen, as you exit the small bathroom in Tyler's trailer. It had startled you, your eyes darting down the hall.

"He's been nothing but nice-" you stress, and he scoffs.

"Right, yeah, nice. Like staring at Rain's tits is nice? Suprised Tyler's not throttled him yet, might give him a hand-"

"He has not been staring at-" you huff, only to gasp softly when Bjorn backs you towards the bathroom door, your back hitting it with a gentle thud.

"He's not right for ya," he whispers, hoarse, as if the words are blades in his throat. "And he keeps fuckin' touchin' ya all- like he fuckin' owns ya- driving me fuckin' mental it is-"

"Why?" you ask, pleading, eyes wide and searching. "What's it to you, Bjorn?"

He stares at you, a moment, his chest heaving slightly as he tries to breathe, his eyes desperately searching your face.

"Surely you know?" he asks, voice trembling, as if he's restraining himself. "You hafta fuckin' know, love-"

"Know what?" You ask, unable to keep the frustration out of your voice.

He lets out a soft breath, before lurching towards you, grabbing your face in his hands and-

Oh.

Oh.

Bjorn is kissing you.

It's... honestly not the best kiss you've ever had.

Your teeth clack against each others, and he uses way too much tongue. But... it's Bjorn. Your Bjorn.

So you lean in to meet him, fingers tangling in his t-shirt as you slow the pace to be more gentle, to savour it. He slows, matching your pace, one of his warm hands trailing down your face, along your neck, before settling at your waist. His fingers burn through the cotton material of your t-shirt, his grip gentle, yet firm as he pulls you closer.

You hum softly, lightly brushing your tongue against his lips, which he parts to allow you entry. Softly, you brush your tongue against his, your hands firm against his chest as-

"God, the fuck's taking you guys so long?"

Navarro's voice gets you jumping away from each other. You still against the bathroom door, and Bjorn absentmindedly fiddling with the air conditioning knob on the wall.

"She won't let me in for a piss."

"Well maybe you should learn the password." you snip back, rolling your eyes.

Navarro rolls her eyes at you both. "Lemon meringue pie."

You step aside and let her through to the bathroom.

Bjorn gapes. "There was an actual-?"

"You know that's what I always pick." you smirk, and a beat passes, before he returns it. A beat passes, and Bjorn opens his mouth to say... something, before you clear your throat.

"Look um... I'm gonna just..." you gesture to the living room, looking away long enough to not notice his expression shatter.

"Yeah, yeah, off you fuck."

You scoff and roll your eyes, heading back to the living room.

Bjorn scrubs a hand down his face, exhaling shakily. "Fuckin' hell..." and with that, he follows.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It doesn't happen again. Neither of you talk about it, though sometimes, sometimes, you wonder what it would be like to just lean over and press your lips to his again, or to let your hands wander down, down, and down into those pants of his, to see if he has a reason to be as cocky as he always is.

Boyfriends come and go, more often than not scared away by the glower of your best friend.

Until, that is, you're 19, talking about moving in with your boyfriend at the time.

You're hanging out with Bjorn at his place, both of you having caught a matching day off from the mines.

"You suck at this one," you remark, lips twitching as he misses a shot on his game.

"Ah, fuck off," he tuts, slouched in the armchair, legs spread and knee absentmindedly bouncing as his fingers deftly move over the controller.

Your eyes dart over his hands, the long digits moving nimbly over the controller, before focusing your attention back on your datapad.

You both sit in silence for about ten or so minutes, before Bjorn clears his throat. "Whatcha lookin' at anyway? Told you, those datapads have crap porn-"

"Hilarious," you fake laugh, before looking up and meeting his eyes. When had he moved closer? He's now perched on the arm of the couch, peering down at your datapad with crossed arms. Ugh, sleeveless. When did he start building some damn muscle?

"Rent-?" He speaks the word as he sees it, questioning eyes flickering up to your face. "Bunks not doing it for you no more?"

You take a deep breath and steel yourself.

Columbus, your current boyfriend (Bjorn had bitched about how dumb it was to be named after a state from Earth, to your blissful unawareness and Tyler's ever waning patience), was your most serious one yet. He wasn't intimidated by Bjorn, nor your friend group being so small and tight knit. He got along great with everyone... except Bjorn.

It wasn't for a lack of trying on his end, but Bjorn was an immovable wall with a permanent scowl around Col. You'd given up trying to make sure they got along some months ago now.

"Col and I are thinking of moving in together." you say, softly, watching his face.

Bjorn does something you don't quite expect.

He giggles. Giggles as if the very idea is ludicrous, ridiculous.

"You've been going out five fuckin' minutes," he laughs, snatching the datapad from your grasp as he browses the rental properties. Nobody bought anything on Jackson.

"Eight months," you correct with a tired sigh, rubbing your face. "I love him, Bjorn-"

You've fucked up. You can feel it in the air.

Bjorn's eyes snap to yours, something dangerous glinting in them, something you've seen glimpses of, once or twice, when a boy's hand wandered too far or you begged off to go home with a guy.

Neither you nor Bjorn liked sharing, after all.

"Oh, really?" he asks, casually, jaw ticking as he stands, scrolling through the listings Columbus had sent you. "These are all on the other fuckin' side of the colony-" he hisses, eyes snapping to you once again.

"Only some of them-" you argue, and he laughs, bitterly now, tossing the datapad onto the messy coffee table.

"What, fucker thinks he can swoop in and drag you off away from your family? Your friends?" he sneers, hands on the back of his head, rapidly pacing alongside the coffee table.

"It's not dragging, Bjorn," you frown, standing and reaching out, gently removing his hands from his hair. "Look, I love him, and I want to move in with him-"

He laughs again, a wide, disbelieving grin on his face. "Oh, you honestly believe that, do you?"

"Yes!"

In a beat, he's in your space, eye to eye with you. You swallow at the proximity, trying your best to ignore the prickling sensation crawling up and down your spine.

"Alright," he hums, stormy blue eyes damn near black, his pupils engulfing any colour and leaving darkness in their wake. "You look me in the eye then, princess, and tell me you don't want my cock stuffed inside that pretty little cunt of yours."

Your breathing stops, and you stare helplessly at his smug, smug face.

"You think I don't see you watchin' me?" he asks, cocking his head, brows raised. "Don't see you lookin' at me like you want my cock inside'ya? Do your boyfriends know?" he hums, reaching up and tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. "That you fantasise about your best mate's cock stuffing you full? D'ya tell em? Tell em that you got a taste once and you've not stopped thinkin' about it since? Not stopped thinkin' about going beyond a snog-"

"Sounds like you're projecting." you finally say, voice hoarse, as your cunt pulses with want between your legs. He doesn't need to know how right he is. How you've sometimes lain awake at night in your shitty bunk, how you'd slip your hand down your sleep shorts and try to keep quiet as you wondered, as you fantasised all about your best friend fucking you.

"You can't lie to me," he whispers, smirk fading away to something more... tender. "Never could, love. You're so fuckin' bad at it," he murmurs, stepping closer, his warm breath ghosting over your face, prompting you to shudder.

"Fucking hell, Bjorn. We can't-"

"Says who? Only people that decide that are us," he points out, hands reaching up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing back and forth over your cheekbones.

"I have a boyfriend," you whisper, even as your hands come up to rest on his chest, your lower lip catching between your teeth.

"I won't tell if you don't." he breathes, before leaning in and catching your lips with his. He gently untugs your lower lip from your teeth with his own. "C'mon, love," he coos, a hand ghosting down, over your collarbones, across one of your breasts, before sliding down the front of your pants, his fingers deftly unbuttoning them before he slides them underneath the material. He keeps his eyes glued to yours, even as you keen softly, his fingers stroking your warmth over the cotton of your underwear. "It'll just be our little secret, yeah?"

"You..." you moisten your lips, slowly rocking your hips against his hand. "You promise you won't tell?"

"To the grave, love," he grins, nudging his nose against yours. "If that's whatcha want. Shame, though, I think people oughta know just how fuckin' soaked your best mate gets you. Naughty girl, aintcha?" he coos, brushing his lips against yours, before shoving your panties aside to stroke your flesh.

You let out a guttural moan, head tilting back from the feeling of him, the warmth of his long fingers-

"Oh, fuck, Bjorn-"

"Tha'sright," he groans, backing you towards the couch. "Such a good girl, yeah? Gonna make sure that's the only fuckin' name leaving your lips from now on."

You collapse onto the couch, Bjorn hovering above you, propped on one elbow, the other hand still leisurely stroking between your folds. He leans his forehead against yours, exhaling shakily. "D'ya know how long I've thought about this?" he asks, nose nudging against yours, before trailing down your jaw, your neck, until he finds a spot in the junction of your neck and shoulder. "Every time I see those stupid fuckin' blokes of yours touchin' ya, thinkin' they'd treat you half as good as I would," he circles your clit, prompting a cry from you, which he groans at. "Ah, fuck, love, could make a bloke fuckin' cream his shorts when you're soundin' like that."

You giggle softly, softly rocking your pelvis up and down, groaning at the extra stimulation. "You often cum without a girl touching you?"

"Hm, nah, you're special, princess," he grins, nipping at your throat as his fingers rub firmer, tjghter circles. "My best girl, aren'tcha, darlin'? Being so good for me, fuckin' soppin' wet for me and I've barely touched ya. Do your other boyfriends getcha like this, huh?"

"Bjorn," you groan, shaking your head. "I don't wanna..."

"Well, tough, I do," he growls, fingers twitching against your clit. "What's it like with them, then? They get you this fuckin' wet this fast? No, I don't think so. My girl's not a filthy little slut, is she?"

Mutely, you shake your head, crying out at the faster pace his fingers take up against your clit, your hips bucking without any rhyme or reason, your cunt damn near fucking aching with how hard it's throbbing. "No," you whimper, shaking your head. "I'm... 'm not a f-filthy slut."

"Good girl," he groans against your throat, looking up at you, his mouth softly parted, his brow furrowed, his eyes black. "You just needed your best mate, didn'cha? Needed me to come along and give you what those poor other fucks couldn't, right?"

You whine, tangling your fingers in his hair. "M-mhm-" you nod, feverishly. "Needed- fuck, Bjorn, I need your- inside-"

He grins, a tug of the lips at the left corner, and he acquiesces, just not in the way you'd expected. He pushes a finger between your folds, pumping it in and out of your molten core, as you cry out and thrust your pelvis desperately.

"Naughty girl," he whispers, eyes full of nothing but delight at your desperation. He pulls his finger out, before pushing it in with a second one, scissoring his fingers inside of you and gridnding the heel of his palm down against your clit. "What would your stupid fuckin' boyfriend say if he could see you now, huh?" he coos, burying his face in your neck. "If he walked in and saw you underneath me, fuckin' my fingers like a bitch in heat, huh?"

Your cunt clenches around his fingers, your breathing picking up as that delicious ache begins to spark, as your bones begin to ignite and your blood turns molten.

"Bjorn, Bjorn, baby, I'm so fucking close-" you shriek, head pushing back into the couch pillows, eyes squeezed shut tight. "Harder, oh my god, fuck me harder-"

He does so, fingers moving in and out of your cunt with downright pornographic squelches. Your panties and jeans are soaked from your wetness, but you can't bring yourself to feel embarrassed, not with how good he's fucking you with his fingers.

Bjorn kisses up your neck, breathing heavily against your ear. "I think," he murmurs, idly sucking a hickey onto the skin below your ear. Visible, for all to see, staking his claim upon you. "You look fuckin' beautiful with my fingers inside of you. With your best friend's fingers fuckin' your pussy the way it's been beggin' for. Yeah, I bet you look fuckin' gorgeous when you cum 'round em too-"

You cum hard around his fingers with a shriek of his name, your fingers clawing at the back of his neck and your breath nothing more than desperate pants.

Bjorn shudders, pulling his fingers from your cunt, his dark eyes locked on yours as he sucks them into his mouth. You damn near cum again from that sight alone.

"Was fuckin' right, weren't I?"

[its-time-to-write]

i think we could do it if we tried

So I misread a prompt, and didn’t realize until halfway through the fic. This was the result and it ended up being weirdly personal? If you hate it or think it’s unrealistic, I know, it’s just wishful thinking, ok?😭

i think we could do it if we tried

You’re sure Jamie’s expression will be burned into your mind forever. After all, you’re the one who put it there. 

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” you say, tears streaming down your face, “I’m the one who’s breaking up with you.”

Jamie just laughs wetly. “Not your fault, though, is it?”

That just makes you cry harder. 

You and Jamie had been friends for a long time, and he’d been in love with you forever. You didn’t return the feeling until you turned eighteen. It was on your birthday, actually. He had insisted on wearing a birthday hat all day, despite that fact that he was at training and you were at home, so you didn’t see each other until the end of the day. Something about seeing the sparkly cone on his head did something to your heart, and there it was; you loved him. 

You suppose the love was always there, lying dormant, but now it had arisen. It took you a week to muster up the courage to tell him, but you did and now it felt like the world made sense. 

Now, a month later, you’re breaking up with him. 

Jamie had been playing football for a while now, and he was really, really good. You were beginning your studies as an undergrad and had your life mapped out until grad school. He was moving away soon and you were leaving tomorrow, but that wasn’t the reason you were breaking up. 

It’s because your parents didn’t approve. 

“I can’t make them understand,” you tell Jamie, willing yourself not to cry. “And… I know I’m eighteen, but they’re paying for university. They said they’d pay all the way through grad school, and I can’t afford it on my own.”

Jamie nods and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“God, it’s fuckin’ shitty, ain’t it?” he says. “Me ‘n you, finally figuring it out too late.”

You can only nod and sniff. Your parents told you that Jamie was a good friend, but nothing more. 

“You’re only projecting feelings onto him because you know he likes you,” your mum had said. “And besides, he plays football. Can’t support a family on that, can you?”

Any protests you made fell on deaf ears. Your parents never explicitly said they’d pull their financial support, but it was hinted. It hung in the air, poisoning the atmosphere in the house. Your mother’s displeasure saturated the building, affecting everyone inside. 

So here you are, standing in the dim light of Jamie’s mum’s porch, breaking up with him at 10pm. 

He knew it was coming, too. 

“Y’know I’d never want you to put your life on hold for me, yeah?” he’d said two days earlier. 

You just nodded.

“I’ve been thinking about quitting football,” he continued, “Get a real job, stay closer.”

You had protested vehemently. He loved football, and he was good, like really good, and how could you ask him to give it up?

So yeah, it wasn’t a total blindside. 

Still hurt, though. 

You stood there, a long time, without speaking. You were memorizing each other’s faces and the way it felt being together for the last time. 

There’s a light on in Georgie’s room, and you wonder if she’ll still love you despite the fact you broke her baby’s heart. 

Jamie finally breaks the silence. “You should go,” he says, “before your parents figure out you’re gone.”

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you just reach out and squeeze his hand. He pulls you in for a hug, the tightest one you’ve ever received, and you never want to let go. But you do. 

You fight the urge to say I’ll wait for you. I’ll find you when I’m done with school. We’ll make it work. But you don’t want to give him false hope. You don’t want to hurt him more than you already have. 

So instead, you whisper “I love you, Jamie Tartt,” and force yourself to walk away. 

— 

That was six years ago. You pushed yourself through school, got out with your BA in three and a half years, and scraped through your MA in two. There were times it felt a little like hell, but you persevered. 

You’re pretty sure the worst moment was during your third year, when your roommate, a football aficionado, started talking about Man City’s hotshot new player.  

“Oh my god, he’s like, so fucking sexy. The things he does on the pitch… he’s like, revolutionized the game.”

“Hm,” you say noncommittally, lost in a textbook. 

“Yeah, heard he’s a bit of a prick though. Grew up in Manchester, and he’s about our age. D’you reckon you knew him?”

“What?” you say, finally lifting your eyes from the page. “I didn’t grow up in Manchester, just lived there when I was a teenager.”

Your roommate shrugs. “Did you know a ‘Jamie Tartt?’ Dating Keeley Jones?”

And there it was. The worst moment of your whole university career. 

You turn back to your book in order to hide your face. “Doesn’t sound familiar,” you say, and your roommate doesn’t push it. She’s too busy telling you how Jamie and Keeley are the hottest, most perfect couple she’s ever seen. 

You’re past that now. It still feels like a stabbing pain every time you hear his name or see his face on a screen, but for the most part, you’ve shut down that part of your brain. 

You might have shut it down a little too successfully. 

In the last six years, you’ve been in exactly two relationships. Both short-lived, both leaving you with a sense of apathy. 

But, your parents approved of both of them. Didn’t matter that they were shallow, self-absorbed dickheads; “He’s cute and has a good job!” your mum had said, oblivious to the fact that she was replaying the exact same pitch to you from before. 

You had felt a rush of relief when the news hit that Jamie and Keeley had broken up. You hated hearing about all his escapades, and how much he hurt her. It made your heart ache, knowing he was burying himself in his prickish attitude the same way you were burying yourself in yours. 

Well, maybe that’s too harsh. You aren’t a prick per se, you’re just… cold. Emotionless. You felt very little this days, because every time you felt the tiniest bit of anything, everything threatened to overwhelm you. 

After school, you just… kept moving. No sense in going home, you loved your family but they made you feel like you were drowning. And you couldn’t make yourself go back to Manchester. 

Georgie called you from time to time, checking up on you. Turns out she didn’t hate you. She was actually rather worried. She never, ever mentioned Jamie. 

“You can’t just stop living life, love,” she had said one time. “That’s all it is: love and loss. You just keep moving forward.”

You took her advice literally, securing a good job that allowed you to work remotely. You moved to the east side of London, West Ham, but were never at your flat longer than a week. After all, you were hot and had a good job. Why not travel? You had no strings keeping you anywhere. 

Now you’re back in West Ham for two weeks, getting ready to go to Barcelona. A friend has a timeshare that she can’t make it to, so you volunteered to go. After all, it’s better to be apathetic in Barcelona than it is in West Ham, right?

Whatever the case, you’re here for much longer than you’d like to be, but you’re going to make the best of it. You have a friend from uni who lives near you, so you’re going out tonight. She wants to go to some upscale restaurant a couple minutes from your flat with a few other girls, and you decide that you’d rather not be alone tonight.

You don’t mention that it’s your birthday. You stopped celebrating them at nineteen.

Your hair and makeup are done, you’ve put together an appropriate fancy-dinner outfit, and you’d say you’re looking classy. You grab your bag and head out the door.

It’s only a ten-minute walk, and there are all kinds of people out. You wonder why, then remember it’s Saturday. That explains it. 

There’s an especially rowdy bunch of guys up ahead, seemingly corralled by a middle-aged man with a mustache. As you draw closer, you hear his accent. American, specifically mid-Western. You breeze by them, catching snatches of their conversations and a mix of accents.

Your ear tunes into someone saying, “…not what really happened,” with an accent that reminds you so much of Jamie’s, you find yourself rooted to your spot in the sidewalk, turning around to confirm that it is not, in fact, him.

You make eye contact with the middle-aged mustached man, who smiles at you and shrugs. “Footballers. What a rowdy bunch,” he says, “Wonder where their coach’s at?”

You surmise by his jocular tone that he’s their coach.

You give him a small smile and he comes over to you. Your feet still won’t move, because you haven’t confirmed that the voice was not Jamie. Or maybe because this man is a gaffer, and you want him to say something, anything about possibly knowing Jamie Tartt.

“I’m Ted,” he says, sticking out his hand.

You shake it and give him your name. At this point, his team have noticed that their coach is talking to someone new, and they descend like a flock of curious children.

There’s a chorus of hellos and one hola, but it’s all a little lost because all you can hear is one soft, “hey.”

“Hi,” you breathe. 

One look into Jamie Tartt’s blue eyes and you’re a goner, even after six years.

Ted looks from you to Jamie. “Oh, do y’all know each other? Jamie, why didn’t you say something?”

“Dunno,” Jamie says, keeping his eyes on you.

Ted, great man that he is, assesses the situation with alarming perception.

“Alright boys, why don’t we let Jamie catch up with his lady-friend, and we’ll just text him where we end up, sound good?” 

It does not sound good to them, because they can tell something interesting is about to happen, but Ted and another bearded American herd them away and down the street, leaving you and Jamie alone on the sidewalk.

“How you been?” he asks, looking awkward as you feel.

“I’ve been…” what word is there to describe how you’ve been? You settle for a shrug.

He nods and huffs out a single chuckle. “Yeah, that about sums it up, don’t it?”

“What about you?” you ask, reaching out to lightly tap his arm. “Heard you were some hotshot footballer.”

Jamie imitates your shrug. “Heard you were some hotshot something or the other.”

You crack a small smile at that. “Georgie tell you?”

“Yeah,” Jamie says, “Felt the need to keep me updated. Don’t fuckin’ know why though.”

That hurts a little bit. This is a mistake, you think. You begin to realize, perhaps for the first time, that your pining after him was pointless. And one-sided.

That is, until Jamie says so softly you almost miss it, “Happy birthday, by the way.”

There it is. 

You open your mouth to say, I love you, but what comes out instead is, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Jamie asks in surprise.

“I’m just… sorry. For everything. For walking away. I don’t know, I feel like I should have fought it or something… I think about you all the time. I wish that I would’ve done something different, I guess. I know I can’t change it, but…” you shrug helplessly. 

Jamie just looks at you, head tilted. 

You huff out an awkward laugh. “Anyway. I should probably go. Meeting a bunch of girls for drinks and dinner.”

“You hate that shit,” Jamie says, and it comes out the exact same way he would have said it six years ago. Like he’s comfortable with you, like he knows every single tick in your brain.

“I do,” you agree ruefully. “Just couldn’t get out of it, I guess. Didn’t have a good excuse.”

“Go out with me,” Jamie suggests, impulsively. But then, he was never one for forethought. 

Your mouth opens to decline, then shuts.

“You’re done with school, yeah?” Jamie continues, “Mum said you haven’t been home in ages. Said she knows more about you than your parents. What if… what if we gave it another go? We’re fuckin’ adults, ain’t we? Let’s just fucking try.”

He’s looking at you, so full of anxious hope that it makes you want to cry. You can feel a few tears fighting their way forward.

“Jamie,” you say, “Jamie I don’t know. I mean- I hurt you. I knew what I was doing would hurt you and I did it anyway. I could hurt you again.”

Jamie replies, “Weren’t your fault though, was it?” and you’re taken back so vividly to that front porch.

You look at him, really look at him for the first time in six years. He’s older, you realize, and you think that he must think something similar about you. He’s calmer, almost- gentler? Still the same Jamie though, with the blonde highlights and the slit in his eyebrow. Outrageous sense of fashion, one that is no longer dulled by the ominous presence of his father. He’s more sure of himself, you think, and you realize you’re more sure too.

There isn’t anything hanging over your head threatening to take your livelihood away.

It’s poetic, really. You, him, in the dim streetlight. Deciding to begin again exactly six years after it ended.

“Jamie,” you say again, because you love the way his name feels on your lips, “I didn’t ever stop loving you. I don’t ever want to stop loving you.”

He’s taken a step closer, and there’s mere centimeters between you. 

“Y’know I’d never want you to put your life on hold for me, right?” you whisper, “Been thinking about stopping traveling. Maybe settle down closer, focus on my job more.”

Jamie smiles. “Go out with me,” he says. “Skip your dinner. You’d have a shit time, anyway.”

You smile back and reach out for his hand. It still fits perfectly in yours. Maybe even better.

“I would love to.”

[memelleity]

abigail sentence starters

i’m sorry about what’s gonna happen to you.

our game ends here.

how many bodies we talking?

i thought i heard someone out here.

let’s just leave. get the fuck out of dodge.

i love you so much. and i’m so proud of you.

vampire on my ass! vampire!

a deal’s a deal.

i can smell your blood.

i like your tattoos. do they have a meaning, or…

you got bullied in school? probably by dad, too. so when you got bigger than everyone else, you turned the tables.

i’ve always hated this room. lot of painful memories.

you’ve made a mistake.

are you lying to me?

so, you got a boyfriend or… something like that?

what’s happening?

___’s not here.

promise me you’re not gonna let anybody hurt me?

you’re the one good thing i did in life. and i just needed you to hear that.

what can i say? i like playing with my food.

you in recovery or something? how many days you got?

my dad, well… he thought he wanted a child, but then he just lost interest.

please, please let me out.

you literally got nothing right.

can we not do this, please?

you’re not as smart as you think you are.

i saw the way you were looking at me earlier.

all right, let’s go kill us a fuckin’ vampire.

i’m scared.

you don’t get your hands dirty and tell yourself that makes what you do not as bad. good luck when the illusion wears off.

fucking bullshit. it’s not about the money. the money’s an excuse.

you backstabbing son of a…

i couldn’t sleep. i heard something.

here’s the thing about being a vampire. it takes a long fucking time to learn how to do all the cool shit.

something doesn’t add up.

listen, you sit here and bleed… or you trust me.

i didn’t mean to scare you.

you want to have some fun? all right. let’s have some fun.

you’re just in time for dinner.

there’s a secret door in the library. the bookshelf on the right wall.

why do you have a dick on your face?

this whole thing is a trap.

you’re so bloody and so gross.

getting shot hurts!

how much do you trust ___?

shut the fuck up!

oh, you’re a fucking priest now?

i came when you needed me. i’m here now.

i don’t scare easy. so when i do, i pay attention.

i feel like i got bit by a fucking vampire!

tell me one true thing about me.

what color are my eyes?

i can’t breathe.

i just, um… i can’t do it.

if this is about revenge, why didn’t you just kill us?

you fucking set me up.

the hard part is already over.

with that money… i can start over, you know?

that wasn’t a lie.

i like you. you’re scary, though.

god, everybody’s got to be a fucking victim now.

if you fucking say, ‘i told you so’…

you could be the richest headless man in america.

i don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, but you don’t sound very calm right now.

you’re mine. you’re mine.

wow. you got a lot going on up there, but your brain’s not quite putting it together, huh?

do you have any kids?

nothing different about you. nothing special. just something to help me pass the time.

___ was here when you weren’t.

i just want to get to the bottom of this, you know?

i’ve had a few centuries of experience.

we got a real fucking situation here. so i don’t give a shit what you think. either you’re helping us, or you’re dead weight.

i feel sick.

i’d really prefer not to have to fucking shoot you.

this is so fucking disgusting.

you changed your name, you left town, and you never saw your family again… but it wasn’t for their safety, was it?

keep an eye on the door.

you grew up with a bunch of brothers and sisters, huh?

you’re gonna be a real pain in my ass, aren’t you?

looking for some light reading?

i’m not gonna touch you.

can you take the blindfold off? it’s really tight.

this isn’t the time for sarcasm, okay?

let’s watch each other’s backs.

that’s an urban legend. calm down.

i fucking hate ballet.

you shot me! you shot me!

i brought you here to offer you a deal.

just had to do your little magic trick, didn’t you?

you think i could do that?

maybe it’s worth a try.

you’re my friend.

wow. you might be the least perceptive person i’ve ever met.

i’m sorry. did i hit a fucking nerve?

no. i’m not betting our lives on your fucking hunch.

we’ve got to get out of here. there’s got to be another way.

i’ve gone by many names over the countless years.

you can have anything you fucking want.

bite me.

what the fuck?

[heller-castiel]

🥳🥳It’s my birthday!🥳🥳

celebrate by reading some of my old fics

Bobby Day - Sam and Dean don’t have a mom to celebrate on Mother’s Day - they just have a Bobby.

This’ll Be The Day That I Die - “They had this song, before they got married, that they loved. Cheek to Cheek, you know? And they’d look so damn sad when it’d play on the record, even though he asked her to marry her to that fuckin’ song. Had to tell Sammy to stop playing that record cause they hated to be reminded of their marriage so much.” Dean swallowed. “Hell, the song feels more like a funeral march than anything else after a childhood of that. Promise me? Promise me we won’t be like that? Together and hating each other for it?”

Castiel took in a mouthful of smoke and lied. “I promise.”

Or: The American Pie (by Don McLean) fic

Holy Palmers’ Bloody Kiss - It’s nice, getting to take care of his family, getting to heal his family. Dean’s always been looking out for everyone else, was raised for it, bred for it even, and he’s made his peace with that. Held his baby brother in his arms and he knew what he was made for, going to sleep in beige hotel rooms stained in dark browns and reds with a baby in one hand and a revolver in the other.

He’s never gotten to offer healing, saving, before. It’s the first time since he was a kid that looking out for family didn’t mean guns and death and revenge.

Goodnight, Moon - Cas shifts in his arms, turning to face Dean, and just as Cas wants to hold him, Dean is ready to be held in return. Their left arms reach across their chests where they are pressed together, and they do not clasp hands but rest the backs of them against each other, and Dean’s right arm falls to rest on Cas’s hip just as Cas’s right falls to Dean’s hip, and together they let their foreheads rest on each other’s.

Or, Cas has insomnia sometimes. Dean brings him back to bed.

You Can Start to Make it Better (Beautiful Beautiful Boy) - Dean goes to bed with Cas on the night Jack's finally ready to reform heaven and give up his Godly powers; but before he does, he pulls Dean into heaven to bring someone back, one last time.

Or: Dean Winchester works through his mommy issues with some heavenly therapy.

if you ran away, just come home - Dean wandered, after. The night that Chuck died, subsumed into Amara, he had silently climbed into his car in the dead of night, walking past Jack's room, past Sam's room.

In his room, Sam laid in his bed with Eileen, and felt the air displace itself around where Dean slipped past in the hallway, instincts attuning him to movement just as they made Dean move soundlessly, without a thought to it. but Dean didn’t think of that. Dean only thought of moving, getting out, going -

Going to something the bunker couldn’t be, anymore. Something he couldn’t ever go to.

But he had to go.

[jazeswhbhaven]

The Encounter of Two Flames | React | Final!

I'm ngl I forgot I didn't do the last day lmaooo but let's do this nowwww.

Even though it's pretty much everyone has seen it already and there's no point in marking it as a spoiler I'm going to go ahead and dive in on this. Now if this is the first post you're seeing of my previous reacts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

If you don't need any of dat, then let's get on with itttt *btw I was wrong and there were only 9 days for the story instead of 10*

But quick recap is that we were left off with Luci showing up to aid Satan after he helped Sitri get over his depressive self-harm moment that nearly burned the entire town down.

Because yah Satan did the thing and ripped his heart out so Sitri could drink his blood from the source like how they first met and junk.

So Luci gave Satan over to Paimon and now Rin is standing up too, the cutie.

Wait...who are you talking to??? <_<

FORASSSSSS???@?@?@?@>

He was spying on them the entire time, it's like I almost forgot Foras could do that lmao I just didn't think this would be remotely relevant...and this is the first time Foras got to meet Lucifer and he was very nice about it.

Wait, Bimet and Eligos now too????? AHHHH>>W>W>????

So Eligos and Bimet were there watching because they share borders and found this important. Eli does admit they should have helped but he's glad it worked out.

ngl Eli the shit was happening for quite a while ya'll sure waited quite a long ass time....

ANYWAYS

Apparently Beel was there well in fly form anyway too. Like did everybody pretty much just show up in Gehenna and just stood around waiting for what Satan would do, I'm kinda being salty about that but when you think about it Satan would of being like "nah"

Mammon ofc was like "Sitri belongs to me so I had to check" and I'm crying because even back then....oh Mammon the man that you are...

Rei is adorable he grabbed onto Luci's sleeve and was trying to say something and I'm like THE BABYYYYYY

He's like a stern older brother lmao

But yeah apparently Jjok can't speak with he is Rei so that answers some speculations. That literally means we won't be hearing that little ridiculous cute squeak toy voice come out of this hot man lol he's literally just silent.

Jjok is so mad lmao he's wondering why he can't speak in his high rank form. So even though we know he can't speak even he doesn't know why he can't.

Luci ofc is like "then don't transform" doing his blunt answer thing and Jjok is like "awh man but I look so coooooolllll" which is on point for his character.

Awh well Jjok has gotta love his fond family more for sure than just someone he admires. I think it's cute of him.

Luci just says to himself that Satan will always have people watching him no matter how small he is. (not everyone still dunking on him for his size goodness)

So we're back in Gehenna after this little scene and Sitri was on probation and all that stuff but Paimon and Leraye are encouraging him to rest up

What's this?

Nah Sitri who you fuckin'?

Tell the class...we won't jump you....cause ya know Solomon ain't there nor is MC so...

who you fuckinnnnnnnnnn

Oh a text? That's who you fuckin' probs I'm callin' it... lmao

So Satan is telling Sitri he's being too mean because the person everyone is wondering who is texting Sitri rn is none other than-

Yup Amy

And Sitri explains that he just wanted to know how he was feeling and that there was other stuff in the text message after that but he said "I ain't readin' all dat" and blocked him lmao

The energy from this devil is real.

Ppyong wonders though why it is that Sitri hates Amy so much when he's normally nice to everyone.

So, how I'm going to interpret this...

I think that Sitri sees himself in Amy, like the brute and feral part of himself that was uneducated and doing just whatever. That raw power and sense of being able to do whatever the fuck he wanted carelessly. He relates to Amy in so many ways it bothers him and he doesn't like being reminded of it, it's like looking at a constant mirror over and over of the behaviors you never want to see that you have of yourself deep down.

But at the same time he can't really blame Amy for that, but unfortunately that's his gripe and his grudge and he won't let go of it no matter what.

And also, it seems that Satan knows truly what it is but because his mischievous and entertained by their banter he doesn't want them to make up like ever.

ugh why won't bae answer my texts like????? LMAO i'm just messin' around.

But at the same time this shit is cute of him. Like he's honestly waiting on a response or like a huge paragraph of Sitri cussin' him out or something

he has a crush on Sitri so bad it's c r a z y.

But anyways he actually cares about him? That's super sweet. I told ya'll in the beginning it seemed like Sitri is way more harsh about their banter than Amy is. On his side it's more like boyish pranks whereas Sitri keeps doing shit to literally inconvenience or damn near kill him lmao

And then it says at the end of this event that the day of Sitri and Amy chilling out on their stuff has yet to come but Gehenna was at peace and their devils are strong and had their own bonds with one another.

And there we have it lovelies. The Satan and Sitri event which kinda felt more like a Sitri event again. I'm slightly disappointed as we didn't really get that much Satan lore and tons more about Sitri instead. I'm actually really starving on some Satan lore because already have so much of the other Kings and barely anything with him...

I'm wondering what the deal is about that. Do the devs just not like Satan as much so therefore put priority into his backstory and other things like his c a r d s on the back burner?

Justice for my OC's man like frfr he out here gettin' crumbs.

But anyways the reason I'd like more insight on him too is that I'm getting into Tokyo Revengers and since this is literally Satan and Belphie's territory in terms of their design and personality type, I'm really just like Y E S ? ? ? MORE??? WHEN ON THE BOIS DAMN.

At any rate I guess we'll all just have wait or just keep griping that we never get anything on Satan and maybe the devs will peep that and listennnn

But thank you all as always for sitting in and reading my stuffs <3 ya'll are cool. Stay simpin' for your faves. -your lovely adminnnnn

[courtingchaos]

Commands

Gator Tillman x Fem Reader

Shared Inflicted Pain

Prompt: ‘Gator - I'm thinking of your versions of Gator for this. This ones a bit idk stupid? but I wonder how he'd react to being shoved him down onto snow and getting ridden like hell. Like, I want him to feel good but I also want him to be uncomfortable as hell do you know what I mean? risky, public sex, girl on top but also risking frostbite for the pussy. I need him to suffer for that nut’

A/N: To start with, this is not stupid. This helped me spawn some more plot for later chapters actually so thank you for that. This takes place earlier in the series, just a little one off, but again I’m building the stage as I’m standing on it. Bear with me 😅 ALSO, please please please give me some grace for my terrible German. I’m using dog commands here, running off of a list of them so if I’m wrong or off just let me know.

Warnings: Sex, fighting

18+ NSFW No Minors

He follows whenever you give him that look.

Across the bays or from the front porch it doesn’t matter who’s around, he’s got a gut reaction to it. When you look at him your interest is piqued, no low lidded eyes unfocused to blur the people around you. Theres parts of you that are still something of an enigma to him even after months of this game and he’s not sure when he got so focused on you. It’s not like he’d been dedicated to the cause for Roy, more that he’d been just trying to reach the next raft in his life but in the flat plains of the Midwest he’d found you. Someone interesting and new that made him feel like a stripped wire.

Another trip to the garage with Roy, a silent drive until the truck makes its way up the drive and he squints out of the windshield to the scuffle up ahead. “Looks like your girl is causing an uproar.”

In the mouth of one of the bays a group is pulling at you and a younger man to keep you two apart. Hands pull hard at your coveralls and his hoodie but you win out before him and Gator watches you snatch the front of his sweatshirt. “She isn’t my girl.”

Roy holds up his hand in surrender. “Just a turn of phrase, no harm.” It’s the quiet chuckle that irks Gator the most but he’s tuning out his Uncle while he climbs out of the cab, both eyes stuck on you and what he’s recognized as one of your brothers.

“I told him to fuckin’ leave it!” Your fists curl up tighter and pull your brother in closer. “That’s my shit, not yours, Mark!”

“It’s in the garage!”

“That don’t mean shit!”

He wouldn’t say it felt like slow motion, more that everything else went fuzzy for a second while he watched you rear back. A moment thinking you might headbutt Mark is quickly replaced by honest delight when one fist pulls back with you just to find its home quickly in your brother’s eye. A heavy smack that makes everyone go quiet, blind hands still grasping at him but now to try and keep him on two feet. You’re having none of it though and follow him down to the cement floor with a hand still wound up in his clothes. Held still under you for better aim, Mark barely has enough reaction to get one arm over his face before you rain down punches into whatever part of him you can reach.

“Well I hate to break up this family function.” Roy interrupts but it barely phases your barrage. He watches for a few moments longer before he yells “Hey!”

Everyone snaps to attention except Ty who delves down to pull you off your brother. The scuffle quiets while you try to stalk off into the garage but not before Roy snaps his fingers once at you and points. “You. I need to speak to you and your father.”

Gator tries to decipher something from Roy’s tone but he can’t find the cause for this request. You stare his Uncle down until Ty smacks your arm and nods over to the office, his face screwed up tight. He seems to be the only one here that tries to keep you out of trouble, and the only one you seem to listen to, so you only stall for a second before you make for your father with Roy hot on your heels.

An hour of aimless talk with your eldest younger brother Chris has Gator numb from the monotony. He doesn’t want to talk cars or guns or business with your brothers, he only came along on the off chance he could steal you away for an indeterminate amount of time. A quiet corner, a wordless march to the house and wistfully he thinks about you taking him up to your room finally. He’s seen the mudroom and the long stairs that lead up. He’s even seen the kitchen at this point, a memorable circle around the worn island where you’d stayed just out of reach until you didn’t. Fingers catching your clothing to pull you across the worktop and onto the floor it’s the first time he’d heard you laugh with glee.

“Well where are you goin’?” He asks gruffly while you claw your way across the wood floor. Your laughter echos in the large kitchen and comes from a deep place in your chest while he keeps a hold on your leg. His grip is firm behind your knee and he uses it for leverage to move up your body, his grip switching to your face to squeeze your smile. “Make me chase you and now you’re tryin’ to crawl away.”

You swat at his cheek and manage to get a good hit in, enough to make him pause with a surprised scoff.

“That’s not nice.” The dark tint to his voice doesn’t match the grin on his lips. He watches your eyes widen before you swing your hand again and he pins it over your head before you can make contact. He doesn’t miss the glitter of excitement in your eyes or the quiet moan you try to hold in. “Do I need to show you how to play nice?”

“You don’t want me nice.”

His stomach twists with the knowledge that you’re right and you know it. A feral grin with too many teeth bared make him uneasy in a completely different way.

“Gator!” The snapping fingers next to his head startle him out of his reverie. Chris gives him a confused kind of sneer before he continues talking about his truck and Gator continues his lean back into the wall of the garage. He keeps eyes on the office door with the intent to follow you when you show but 20 minutes turns to 40 and he’s left wondering alone.

The door crashes open as soon as he unlocks his phone though, your boot propping the bottom of the door open for Roy and your Father to walk out.

“In the house?” Roy asks skeptically of your Father, who nods before pointing them both in the direction of the farmhouse.

“It’s where I keep all the important things.”

Gator can hear your eye roll from across the workshop and as soon as their voices fade out into the cold weather he feels you looking at him.

Interest piqued.

Wordlessly he stands to wander outside, waiting to hear the crunch of your footsteps behind him. Keys jingle to announce your appearance before you swipe him with your elbow and nod your head over towards a collection of smaller brick buildings. “Take a walk?”

Something feels off about you today. The normal self determined focus he’s come to expect is gone. You sigh deeply when you start walking but you don’t lead him to the buildings off to the side of the garage, instead walking beside him. Hands shoved into your jacket pockets and face turned down the ground watching your steps.

“You good?” He asks quietly. That part that is wistful and buried deep inside him knows you aren’t, knows your moods now like he’d studied them for a test.

“Nothing you can fix.” You mumble and shoot him a side glance.

“Well I wasn’t asking to fix anything.” Deflecting to save his own hide in the instance this becomes something it shouldn’t.

Your scoff echos in the doorless doorway of the brick building you’ve both walked to. He takes a quick scan of the inside and catches metal bars along the wall in even squares.

“Y’all have dogs?” He raises an eyebrow at you when you walk past him to go in. “I’ve never heard any out here.”

“My mother used to breed Belgian’s.” Your finger thumps dully across the empty kennel doors as you walk down the line of them slowly. He knows your mother is gone but you’ve never brought her up to him. In the before times, that misty timespan where neither of your existed in each others orbits.

He hasn’t told you about his previous life in the desert either. It’s not even a need to know thing, it’s just not something important anymore, but in that other life he’d worked with a few of those dogs. “What kind?”

You turn sharp on your heel when you reach the end of the line, a small smile soft around the edges. “Groenendael’s and Malinois.”

He knows the second one’s mostly. Bundles of dangerous energy when untrained, vicious and precise when held under a strong hand. “Trying to keep people out?”

“Something like that.” That smile turns conspiratorial before it slides right off your face. While you give him your widest range of emotions, typically saved for dark corners, he’s never seen this maudlin shadow cast across your eyes before. “My father used to have guard dogs but after my mother passed he got rid of them.”

“‘Rid of them?’”

You nod and head off around the corner, Gator following close but measured. “Did he kill them?” That would be what your Father would do, at least what Gator would expect of him. Your huff of laughter surprises him though.

“No, too much money. He sold them.” You wave your hand to dismiss the memory. “I miss them, they were good dogs.”

Wistful. He thinks to himself.

It’s quiet in this room, what he assumes was once an office of sorts. A lone rusted filing cabinet and a torn at chair sit in the corner of the otherwise bare room. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes jump around and remember the pocked drywall and the water stained ceiling. He lets you wander out the other doorway that leads to a fenced in patch of land currently covered in untouched snow before he breaks the comfortable silence with an uncomfortable question.

“What’d Roy want?”

A loud sigh that fogs out in front of you. “Oh the usual.”

“Then why’d he need you?” He doesn’t like that Roy has taken a shine to you. More a glare with his distaste so evident but his attention is split to you now too and it makes Gator’s hackles rise.

“You know he isn’t very ‘adept’ with technology.” Your air quotes make him chuckle. “He wanted me to explain something in front of my Father so I wouldn’t lie.” You drop your voice to mimic Roy’s deep gravel before shrugging. “He doesn’t think the world of me yet, don’t you worry your pretty little head over it.”

“My pretty little head?” He takes a few steps towards you to crunch fresh snow under his boots. Your eyes dart across his face and down his body before you start smirking.

“Well, maybe not little.” You close the gap with outstretched hands pulling on his parka. Instincts kick in and he goes for your heavy zipper when you snap at him.

“Fuß!”

A sharp hiss from you that makes his head tick to make sure he heard you right. The look on his face must read for confusion because you giggle lightly and pull him closer.

“That means heel.” Your breath mists between the two of you when you whisper it against his cheek.

“Yeah I know what that means.” Commands he learned in the army from security buddies with their own dogs. He wants to laugh at the comparison here but it’s only in his own head.

“You speak German?”

“Ein bisschen.”

There’s that interest again, that light behind your eyes when he does something you find fascinating. He hates being under inspection but your detailed gaze feels different. He likes when you pay attention to him.

“Do you know…fassen?” Fingers creep up his cheek like the slow spread of his grin and he turns his head quick, snaps his teeth at your wandering fingers to make you jump.

“Aus, Gator!” You grab his face and hold his jaw shut. “Behave.” He’s forced back a step when you kick your foot between his and let your other hand wander to his belt. The nylon slides easily through the buckle, your practiced hand pushing it aside for his button fly.

“Aus.” Said again only this time quieter. He watches you from down his nose and breaths heavy at you in playful defiance. Makes no move to go down even with your hand almost in his pants. You tug downward on his jaw, “Knien.”

He doesn’t know that one but he can sus out the context pretty well. When you leave his waistband alone to ruck up his pullover the cold sting of winter air cuts through his undershirt and helps shut out the rest of the world. He doesn’t move to kneel until you lean in though, lips ghosting over his with a hushed plea.

“Humor me, Gator?”

His knees hit cold ground, wet seeping through the fabric to anchor him. Your grasp softens to tilt his chin up and that piece of himself he’s kept shoved down like a defeated Titian gets purchase for the first time in years. You’re a foil to his rage and chaos with every stroke of your fingertips over stubbled skin. A smile just for him when he follows your direction and the fault inside grows wider until he barely trusts himself to keep his secrets unspoken.

“Bleib.” You take a step back and hold out your hand to placate him. He watches you pull your own zipper down and tug at your own clothes, a nervous energy circling in his chest. That’s his job on a good day and you stand there in the cold with a wisp of a smile. The metal clink of your belt makes his blood rush south while his mouth waters with the need to bite down. When you bend to untie your boots he thinks about rushing you. Pinning you into the snow and making your peals of laughter echo in this stripped out building but he waits, fingers twisting at the pockets on his pants.

Watching you step out of your shoes is worrying but you don’t flinch when you step into snow, eyes boring holes into him. He’s afraid, he’ll admit it to himself out here, that if he catches your gaze he’ll start telling you all manner of stupid things so he keeps his focus on your hands pushing your jeans over your hips and down your thighs until you let them pool on top of your boots.

Just a single step puts you close enough for him to grab, his hand hooking around your thigh the same as your fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck. A firm grip to pull him back and make him finally look at you, your eyes dark and focused.

“Guter Junge.”

His back hits the ground and he grunts when your weight lands on top of him. Hands fall through the new snow beside his head and you hover over him, small clouds of breath evaporating from your open mouth. The heat rolls off you and leaches into him while the cold burns his back where his layers have pushed up. You only get one good roll of your hips before he’s wedging his hand between you to pull your underwear to the side and get ahold of himself to push you down. Almost like a sigh of relief when you sink your hips down flush against him, he’s lost in you now. That calm that settles after your meetings is waiting in the wings and making things quiet for him to focus.

His mouth finds your neck when he pulls you in close, teeth finding the fading mark at the juncture of your shoulder to darken it again. A choked off moan in his ear sets a fire in his belly and he wraps your hair around his fist to hold your head still so he can angle you better.

“Gator-“

He cuts you off with harsh thrust when he gets his feet planted, teeth still dug into your skin when he sets his pace. A long groan from deep in your chest vibrates against his mouth and your hands scrabble for purchase. Cold along his face and in his hair to hold on while he fucks you in the snow. Ice and water get under his collar but you’re warm along the front of him. Breath hot against his ear while you whimper his name, thighs around his hips keeping him insulated from the air.

You mutter curses under your breath while he thinks about you calling him good. Good boy in fact and his cock throbs deep in your heat. If he opened his mouth and let go of you he could ask you to say it again. Say it in German or English or whatever fucking language you wanted. He could whine under you and ask for praise while he rocketed too quickly towards coming.

He feels the drag of your tongue under his ear and his eyes roll, your simplest gestures his favorite things. With his nose buried in your hair he catches a new scent buried under the heat and metal, something soft and floral that drives his curiosity. When he seems to hit just right he can feel you tense above him and he lets go of his own leash to chase his own end.

“You gonna come?” Hushed in his ear it startles him until your hand slides around his neck and gain enough leverage to pull away from his mouth. “Come on Gator.”

The pressure on his throat makes him lightheaded and his pace stutters. The fist in your hair relaxes and he toes the line of oblivion.

“Be good and come for me?” Whispered against his cheek while he tries to nod but your lips graze the corner of his mouth, breath pushed past his lips and he sees black when his eyes slam shut. A groan claws out of his throat that you still hold tight and he grips your thighs to keep you in place while his toes curl painfully in his boots. The cold barely registers in his ringing head, not when you dot the side of his mouth with light kisses that he’s not even sure are real.

You humble him. In the wake of whatever you two have wrought against each other there’s a silence that settles in him. It quiets the rage that simmers just under his skin and the yelling in his head. Unintelligible anger that stems from a spring inside him is stopped whenever you’ve laid hands on him and he feels a creeping uneasiness at the way he craves it. He’d only come along today in the hopes he’d find you. He’d done it in the hopes that you’d let him mark up your neck again and that you’d wrap your fist in his hair and pull until it stung.

“It’s really cold.” He says it into the side of your head still pressed to his shoulder. “You need to put some clothes on.” He doesn’t want to cut the afterglow but he can feel you starting to shiver and he can tell patches of his skin are going numb.

“Afraid your balls are gonna freeze?” Comes mumbled from you before you sit up again and he laughs, still buried inside you.

“Somethin’ like that.” He winces for a number of reasons when you separate, least of which because of the cold. You dust off melting snow and bits of brown grass from your knees before you jump back into your jeans and jam your wet feet into your boots. “Do you need help?”

“Help?”

“Getting back to the house.” It’s the only way he can ask to stay. He won’t ask if you’ll let him help you because he knows you’ll scoff and shove him before disappearing inside. Instead he’ll ask if you want him to walk with you. He stands and gets his pants rebuttoned and tries to tame his hair back down.

“I think I know the way.”

“Fine.” He walks away to hide his bruised ego in the zipping of his own jacket and the readjusting of his belt. It isn’t until he’s back out front that he realizes you haven’t followed him and he can feel the break in this coveted calm of his. Half way to marching back to the truck to wait for Roy in anger when you pop up and tug at his elbow.

“Do you want like a coffee or something?” You ask quietly, your teeth chattering on the last word and he pushes your hands out of the way to finish snapping your coat closed.

“Do you have anything decent?” He can feel you staring again but he’s steadfast in his feigned ignorance while you study him. The pause in the conversation hangs for a moment too long before you sneak your fingers into the crook of his elbow and tug again when you start walking.

“I keep the good stuff in the house.”

[fuck-customers]

🎂(8/21/23) This will be a bit long but now that I don't work at the bakery anymore I felt like sharing the list of things that customer's did that genuinely irked me amongst other feelings:

Things customers do or say at work that make me want to commit a war crime (+ my thoughts I can't say outloud):

"I want to get one of everything. 🤪" (Fun fact, 1 of everything is about $100)

"I'm shouldn't even be in here right now." (Then why are you???)

"I'm breaking my diet for this." (I don't care.)

I shouldn't be eating this I'm diabetic." (I have family that's diabetic. Please actually take care of yourself. 😐)

Does __ count for the B5G1F?" (No, it's actually only the vanilla cake squares. /s)

"Can I have one of that and one of that?" (The name. Is on the display case. SAY THE GOD DAMN NAME.)

"Are yall still open?" (You were able to open the door weren't you? You were able to step inside…weren't you??)

"Wow I got here just in time huh?"

(Yeah. You did. Now hurry the fuck up.)

after paying for the things they've already wanted "Can I actually get _ too?" (I can't really tell you no but holy shit why did you just now think of this?)

after paying for their things they proceed to look at all the merchandise and find something else "I'm gonna get this too." (Of course you are. 😐)

points at the devil's food cake, which is clearly labeled "Is this a brownie?" (Does it look??? Like a brownie??? If you move to your left about 4 feet you'll see actual brownies.)

"Can I get a devils food cake square?" "With which icing?" "…what do you mean?" "We have 3 different icing flavors for the devils food cake. Which icing?" "Oh. Chocolate. :)" (Fuckin- you can clearly see that we have 3 different icing flavors on display why is this so hard.)

"I don't get how you can work in here." (I need a paycheck and I get a good discount.

Also after a while you get bored of all the sugar.)

"I wouldn't be able to work in here. I'd eat everything. Haha" (Haha, yeah, I bet you would. 🙄)

literally anyone who comes in reeking of weed (…can you don't though? Idec that you smoke but why are you coming in when it's so strong???)

"Can I get a pint/quart of this flavor of ice cream?" (…why. I hate making pints and quarts its stupid and if the ice-cream is super frozen it's an actual pain in the ass.)

any family of 5+ that comes in all wanting ice cream (Please go away.)

"Can I get the pieces that have a lot of icing?" (Not really, cause the baker spread it pretty thin.)

*grown adult gets pouty when they realize that the cake squares I gave them had a

thinner layer of icing than the display* (Much like when you were a kid, pouting doesn't help. Do you want the cake or not?)

someone asks how good a certain item is I generally say it's pretty/really good. "Oh, its just pretty good?" (Yeah, cause I'm not a huge fan of that item. But you might like it cause, you know, different taste.)

Literally anyone who doesn't know the pick up name for a cake, or any details about the cake.

Wanting a fondant cake with a 24 hour notice and getting upset when we can't do it (fondant takes a least 2 days to dry)

People who forget which store they placed their order at. (We only have 2 locations????)

People who don't understand that we close early on Sundays.

People who leave the store reeking of weed. Like, the smell stays for like 5 minutes.

People who come in for a specific flavor that

we've never made. And get upset that we dont/wont/can't make it.

Everyone who doesn't understand that pumpkin spice and carrot cake are seasonal flavors that replace each other during the year. (And no. We can't just make you a carrot cake cake during pumpkin spice season because we physically don't have the ingredients.)

Everyone who doesn't understand the big 5 get 1 free deal.

People who try to open the door an hour before we open or an hour before we close and look visibly upset when they see me not move to let them in like we arent???? Open???

People who don't even try to open the door at our smaller store and think we're closed when we are open. (And people are often inside.)

People who try to hold a conversation for way too long

People who don't take an extra 2 minutes to look for what they want before asking me

where it is only for it to be a foot to their left.

People who dawdle at closing time.

People who leave their phone/cask/card in their car and have to run out to get it. They normally don't notice until their rung up.

People who try to break a $100 bill within the first hour of being open then get surprised when we don't have enough change to do that.

One of the worst interactions I had was in the bakery. This lady asked me if the strawberry cheesecake was good. I said "if you like strawberry it is." I guess that offended her somehow and she made it her mission to see my try a piece so I can tell her if it's good.

The problem with her plan is I'm allergic to strawberries. She was not having any of my "lies" and found anyone and everyone one and told them I am a horrible worker because I refused to "accommodate her request." She eventually ran into the only douche canoe manager we had at the time and got him to start insisting I try a bite to make her happy. I ended up just walking out on the rest of the shift and he tried to write me up. HR forced him to drop it when I threatened to sue.

-Rodney

[paceypeternathanslawyer]

The buzz that John B and Sarah give me is insane!!! The way that the show all but confirms that they had feelings for each other before the show began. Like these two have been longingly staring at each other in a crowd for years!! And yet they couldn't act upon for their feelings because of the social status differences. She's a girl from a rich and respected family in town and he is a boy who lives on the wrong side of the tracks. Someone who is looked down upon because he's poor/practically homeless and also viewed as a troublemaker. There's also the whole layer of the "pogues vs kooks" which is the terms for the rich people in town vs the poor people... Or in the words of John B "the people who have everything vs the people who have nothing". And this isn't just a minor pretentious looking down of each other. The pogues and the kooks hate each other and constantly get in verbal and physical fights and this hatred is deeply rooted. Like I was surprised to hear older people and parents calling each other pogues or kooks. These are terms that are deeply ingrained in this town's history and culture. It's all very Romeo and Juliet-esque. John B and Sarah had an uphill battle when getting together with each other. Everyone was against them. Her boyfriend Topper was unsurprisingly intimidated by John B's presence. I'm sure he sensed their deep connection and attraction. Plus Topper is about as prejudice as kooks come so he was against John B from the jump for largely that reason. Her father has a vendetta against John B's family that becomes apparent as the show goes on but early on Sarah's father views John B as a thief because he borrowed scuba gear that he did return but Topper reported him and made it sound like he was a horrible thief. Even John B's friends are against their relationship at first. One of my favorite lines though is early when John B is trying to cover up his feelings for Sarah and he says "Do I look like the type to fall for Sarah Cameron?" and Pope says "Do you want us to answer that?" It's so clear to everyone that they have a thing for each other. Like there's a flashback scene where John B is next to his friends and they are talking and John B and Sarah are just staring at each other from across the way. So that line from Pope is further proof that John B and Sarah have held a torch for each for quite some time and everyone fuckin knows it lmao

S1 Jarah is very Romeo and Juliet-esque without the suicide aspect. S2 gets into the realm of Bonnie and Clyde. S3 is very Naley (From One Tree Hill) but like S2/angsty Naley. S4 Jarah is very much like late S4 Naley. They're in their sweet, domesticated, pregnant phase and I fuckin love it 💗🧡💗🧡

[berrypass-de-murdler]

89. The Post-Production Process

So like I have said my only outside-of-family human interaction comes from my Discord server, so I would very much love if anyone else was willing to join :3 It's a safe space for any (SAFE) discussion and any fandoms/art projects and stuff... only for people I know though bc I hate public servers.

so if you'd be willing to join lmk, I need frens ;w; <3

Mx. Tangerine is FINALLY FINALLY HERE (you think they'd be here a bit sooner for how often they show up), they are Champagne's American cousin and also, for no apparent reason, a mechanic! I LOVVEEE how they turned out ToT

That leaves only one more character left for book 1 that doesn't have a design... and if you can name them you get idfk rip

DON'T READ THE EPISODES UNTIL YOU'VE FINISHED THE FIRST BOOK!!

MIDNIGHT: Welp. The movie is done. LOGICO: OH, THANK GOODNESS. [flops] I am so done with this. MIDNIGHT: I was being lame. The movie isn’t done. The shooting is. You have so much more work to do. LOGICO: LIKE WHAT?!? I DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING IN THE MOVIE!! MIDNIGHT: We have to edit, score, sound mix, colour correct, and you need to solve the murder of the assistant editor. LOGICO: Seriously

The assistant editor was human. Obviously they were doomed to die. Maybe by the hands of Lavender?? Or Pearl, or Dusty, the actual film people. Or that other idiot.

ABALONE: A-LIST ABALONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!!!

You know, the clam woman. 

Anywho. Dusty is stomping around at the post-production lab.

DUSTY: DAMN IT TO HECK! I WANTED TO BE IN THIS FUCKIN’ MOVIE! I DID! ME!!

And Lord Lavender is… ironically… driving a golf cart around, making little vroom-vroom noises.

LOGICO: [ahem] Well. LAVENDER: [violent scream] WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE??? LOGICO: Now who’s a rough-and-tumble guard tower militant? LAVENDER: AAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUU! 

He tries to run Logico over, and doesn’t manage. Logi dives and rolls. He waddles to some bench and looks at the stars and… 

LOGICO: What is… happening? What… what is my life? Why are things like this? I just nearly got steamrolled by a llama in a golf cart, I… [hhhhhh]

His hands shake, and he picks up the phone again. Despite his efforts, there is no answer, and a tear falls from his single eye as the recording plays.

“I’m sorry. I’m currently away from the phone right now. If this is Deductive Logico, then the marot says that a film strip was in the water tower.”

Logi takes a deep breath and tries to recover from his sudden breakdown. Turns out Logi wasn’t the only person flattened by Lavender’s new toy.

LAVENDER: You can’t jail a lord! It’s against the law! LOGICO: I’m too lazy to check your kill count but truly, everyone does this, just… be quiet and get over it. 

Logico watches him be dragged away, very unsatisfied. His stomach clenches and his eye warbles. Something is wrong.

ABALONE: I WAS GOING TO REVENGE MY FATHER!!! LOGICO: ‘Avenge’. ‘AVENGE’ your father. [facepalm]

She’s probably not the only thing bothering him, right?

The end!

I lov you!

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[kreativewritin444]

back to me/ r.c

authors note:  hiii my lovelies, how have y’all been??  :)) i have been super busy and honestly my mindspace for awhile was just not there lol, so i took my break. slowly have i realized on here y’all have gone through a following of my transition as a person and a writer. for i write from experience and truth even though everythings fiction...

 anywhore my new thing is star wars atm totally in awe with everything so this may or may not caught some ideas up in it....

 summary// you were dating rafe, the boy chosen to fall

warnings// abuse, mention of murder, rafe lol also this is toxic

 you were walking down the side of the road, the sadness filled within your heart. everything was lost, rafe was out of control. after dating for a year you’d think you know a person.

 till you found out the truth.

it first started with the drug abuse. watching his character slowly change into someone you barely knew; especially the fights between his family. yet when sarah and john b went missing at sea, things changed with everyone. 

 he was accused of murder, and you so blindly trusted him. thinking not rafe... not possible. he would do a lot but murder?

you were hung up with rafe through it all, sometimes he did feel sad. most of the time he acted like she didn’t exist or that he cared, until she and john b came back. 

 that’s when everything slowly began to change for the worse. he said he was stepping up, going to be a bigger man. some rant about his family status being more serious. sarah gets back and things slowly start to be revealed. 

after one night, you escaped out the room leaving behind a passed out rafe. sarah met you face to face, before she pulls you in her room. her desperate plea to her case; you finally opening up about your side of things.

 now supposedly rafe shot sarah, is in on stealing the gold and even has gone off the fucking walls. this led you into a three day depression room sinkhole.

 until now where you are walking down the streets, tears streaming down your cheeks. this was a walk to clear your mind, after all you have been hiding from. stupid idea. the sun set so now it was street lights leading your way.

 a car passes by and you ignore it, wiping your tears. not paying attention your foot slips, body slipping forward. the feeling of your ankle twist makes your hiss, as your hands and knees were scraped up.

 “fuckin’ great.” you mumble to yourself, tired of this day. a heavy sigh escapes your lips as you push yourself up, noticing the blood along your knee. your back pocket starts vibrating.

 pulling out your phone, trying to avoid the harsh feeling along your palm. rafe cameron’s caller id appears across the screen. hesitating as you bite your lip, you wanted to hit the red button. you wanted to decline it.

 “hello?” your voice wasn’t exactly happy but it wasn’t just with him. your knee was bleeding while only your left hand really held scrapes. your ankle was sore but you knew not broken. as you didn’t hear a response, you focus in hearing rafe’s tense breathing over the phone.

 “where are you? what’s wrong?” his questions make you roll your eyes. “i am no where, and nothing i-i am fine.” you hate the way he knows you, even after all this shit. it hurt because you were still in love with someone who has headed down a path extremely dangerous.

 he scoffs, “tell me where you are, i’ll come get you.” you shake your head even though he couldn’t see that. “no! i mean no rafe, not right now. i need, i need-”

his voice cuts me off, sounding desperate almost. “don’t do that shit to me y/n, don’t tell me you need space.” 

your lips tremble, “rafe i don’t know what to do.” the confession was raw, pure, innocent. 

 you truly were defeated by your feelings and the fact of things. he went quiet for a moment before he lowers his voice. “let us talk, please?” he pauses for a moment.

“ let me come get you, i know you y/n. something has happened.” you almost wanted to laugh. “nothing has happened beside everything else that’s so obvious.” your voice cracks softly towards the end, making you want to curse yourself.

 “y/n, tell me where you are.”

 “i-” a defeated sigh escapes you, glancing around you notice a street sign. “i am on lotus street, i-i was walking and i tripped and fell.”

 you swore you heard him mumble something, “okay. i’m on the way. call me if anything happens.”

 you hang up, hobbling to sit along side the road. choosing some bricks to sit on. you didn’t even have a bag, but you see a nice big leaf on a tree nearby. getting up once more, heading over to it. you pull off a few leaves, the branch sways as you walk away.

 sitting back down, you sniffle softly as you wipe the blood trailing down your leg. biting your lip as you wipe around your knee as well.

 less than ten minutes, the familiar truck lights are seen coming down. you sit up straighter, lifting your hand up to block some of the light. he pulls up beside you before parking it on the side of the rode.

 he gets out rushing around the vehicle. you stand up quickly, nose contorting in pain, forgetting about your ankle in the moment. he steps closer but your hand flies up instinctively. he stops in his tracks, eyes meeting yours with a wild look.

 “y/n.”

 you shake your head at him, “you’ve lied to me rafe!” everything has been building up and now seeing him.

 “who told you that? sarah?” he tilts his head and you stare at him in pure awe. his reaction was just pure dumb and it angers you. “wh-what? it’s not about that rafe. you lied! you did things... you are changing.”

 your eyes trail on how his shirt was damp and he had a bruise near his jaw. “those fuckin’ pogues are turning you against me! bet they’re telling you all sorts of lies, huh?”

 “i don’t know who you are anymore rafe!” you wince as you step back.” th-the things you’ve done... the things you plan to do.” you sob out, and he takes in your appearance. how your fall was, how you were in pain. emotionally and physically.

 “just get in the truck y/n. we can talk about this somewhere else.” he tries to persuade you, but your head shakes for a moment. without a beat your hand clutches your chest, as if it would give some relief. to the weight that felt like it was crushing you inside out. as you were sure your heart was breaking.

 he wasn’t the person you knew anymore.

”oh my god, rafe. you almost killed your fuckin’ sister, you were accused of murdering pet-” he rushes forward pointing at you. his one hand wraps around your biceps, jerking you slightly.

 “don’t you ever say that shit again.” his finger now digging in your cheek, makes you scared. shoving his chest, watching him stumble back surprised for a moment.

 your chest heaves up and down, moving away from the bricks you were once sitting on. staring him fully on as tears blur your vision.

 “you could come back!” your voice cracks as you plea with him. “you can come back, come back with me.” please choose this, please choose to do things different.

 he shakes his head, “you know i can’t do that.” 

 your heart sinks, lips trembling. “why is that, rafe?” please don’t say it. you plead with yourself even though your stomach felt sick.

 “we got the gold, i can’t- i gotta’ go with my dad!” he shakes and you stare at him in horror. the final realization hitting, everything made your mind swirl.

 “rafe...” you look at him and tears stream down your face. you hated this. you hated him. you hated yourself. for not being able to help but want his embrace to comfort you in this.

 “you can do right, we can do right. we can figure this all out okay?” you try to ease on him, but his eyes glare into yours.

 “we could figure this all out, rafe. you can come back to me, before all this shit. be the old us? right?” he looks away from you, making your heart drop. “right rafe? you love me right? we can do right, give the gold back. get away from here!”

 now his attention is back to you. “did sarah or the pogues put you up to this?” he almost laughs and you shake your head desperately. “no! rafe i love you!”

you step closer to him, slowly due to your ankle. “rafe, this is insane. it’s gone too far with barry before a-and this now?”

 he shakes his head, “do you trust me y/n?” you wanted desperately to say yes. to forget everything, run away from the problems but you hesitated.

 his eyes go cold, “let me take you back home?” he makes it a question but it was more of a demand. you felt defeated, stranded in a forest with no compass.

 “wait.” you freeze hesitant of it all. coming more to your senses.

 he stops at the sound of your voice, turning to face you. “people who get in your way...” you trail off almost hesitant to say it. “they don’t end up well.”

 his head cocks to the side, “what do you mean by that y/n? you think i would hurt you?”

 “you didn’t say you loved me back.” the truth made you step back from him.  “i’m going to call someone else to get me, rafe.”

 “i love you, y/n. don’t you see? the goal involves you, i’ll always protect you!” he steps closer and you shake your head. your throat hurt from keeping the tears at bay, but as he gets the look of realization. the tears slide down your cheek.

“i don’t think i can trust you anymore rafe. you are going down a path that i-i don’t think i can follow.” your hand trembles as he glowers at you. “y/n... don’t turn away from me too.”

 your hands shakes as it comes up to your face for a moment, covering your mouth of the sob that escapes. the emotion in both your eyes was readable, from anyones point of view.

 “i love you rafe... please.” the desperate plea from your lips. you looking stupid begging for an unchangeable man, too well change.

 your phone lights up with sarahs name popping up, catching rafe’s attention. “liar!” he moves in a haste, snatching the phone. “no wait r-”

 he tosses it off into the grass somewhere, before snatching you up. he shoves you against the truck, the truck was off. the street light was farther down and it was dark. you two were in the dark.

 his hands wrap around your throat, your hands clawing at his hands. “r-afe.” you manage to choke out, as you start seeing spots. eyes rolling back he drops you backing up.

 you start coughing heavily, as the air starts to fill your lungs again. “oh my god.” it barely registers as you grip your throat desperately, as if it could ease the pain. “y/n,y/n... i am so sorry.”

 as you look back up at him, the view of the fading light barely shows his face. yet you made out the look on his. he didn’t look exactly sorry. he just didn’t look like the rafe you knew at all.

 “yo-you just...” it hurt to speak, but what you didn’t notice was when you fell. you hit your head, leaving your forehead dripping blood down your right cheeks. your hands touch the spot, making you wince as your eyes try to focus.

 the sight of your fingertips covered in blood makes your stomach churn. feeling lightheaded and unable to catch your breathe. 

 you desperately call out, “rafe...” he stares down at the wound in need of attention. one he caused in rage. “i’m scared.”

 spots fill your vision and everything starts to fade. the last thing you felt was rafe scooping you up.

[its-time-to-write]

Hello! I absolutely love your work. You’re a fantastic writer. Is it possible for you to do something based a bit off of the song London Boy by Taylor Swift? If not I understand. I just feel there’s some cool way to tie it with Jamie Tartt. Sorry if it’s a bit of a generic request

ALRIGHTY gotta preface this, I actually hate this song 😂 Lyrics aren’t bad, but the like accent thing she does makes me die a little bit. BUT. I saw what you were going for (I think)! So here it is, I suffered through listening to this song bc you asked for a fic and I am nothing if not eager to please.

This is also a response to two other requests. So if that was you, ✌️😗 y’all were on the same page, congratulations. This is also my first song-based fic, although all of my works are (very, very loosely) based on songs. That’s why they have such insane titles😅 ANYWAY that’s enough talking from me. Enjoy!

i fancy you

i love my hometown as much as Motown, i love So-Cal

Richmond in London is very different from your hometown in Southern California. It’s colder, for one. And older. Things in California don’t have the same extended history as they do in England. You’re here visiting family for a couple months, although your cousins are trying to convince you to stay longer. 

“What do you really have waiting for you in California?” Holland asks.

“Uh, the beach. Sun. Great Mexican food.” you respond.

Holland isn’t buying it. “When else are you going to be able to live here? We can help you get a job and all that, not a huge problem.”

Holland is very convincing. You decide to stay for a year, single year, and see what happens.

Holland is four years older than you, and has always been the cousin you’re closest to. You’ve had a long-standing bond since being the two eldest sisters in your family. Holland takes you to clubs and introduces you to her friends, including a Miss Keeley Jones who thinks you are “abso-fuckin-lutely adorable.” 

“You have to bring her to a Richmond match, babes,” Keeley says. “Lots of fit footballers.” She winks.

You ask Keeley of she’s dating a footballer.

“Oh god no,” she shudders. “A coach.”

You don’t really see the difference.

saw the dimples first and then i heard the accent

It was a good match, even you can tell. The Richmond team played seamlessly, passing the ball back and forth without letting the other team even touch it. Their conductor of sorts, the one mediating the passes, was crazy. He never seemed to get tired, anticipating his teammates’ moves and those of the opposing team. It seemed like he was always five steps ahead of everyone. Holland notices you watching him and pokes Keeley.

“You like Jamie?” Keeley laughs. “Makes sense. Anyone with eyes likes him. He’s right fit, too. Good in bed, shit with feelings. Well, used to be. Still fucking cocky.”

That’s interesting. “You’ve been with him?” you ask.

Keeley gives you a 50/50 hand motion. “Sort of. Don’t really count it, do I? Was with him at his fucking worst. That’s why Roy fucking hates him.”

“He’s much better now,” Holland chimes in. “Something happened last season and he stopped being such a dick.”

“Holland!” you reproach, laughing. “That’s not nice!”

She and Keeley shrug. “It’s true though, innit?”

You don’t know if it is, because when you first see Jamie up close in the club later that night, he seems perfectly fine. You see a flash of a smile, a dimple, then he says something (you don’t know what) but his accent is… something else. It’s not like Holland’s, or any of your family, but you know enough to pinpoint it to Manchester. 

“The accent got you, didn’t it?” says a voice near your ear and you yelp as Holland slides her arm around your shoulder.

“Gets the best of us,” says Keeley, grabbing your hand. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”

She drags you over despite your protests.

he likes my American smile, like a child when our eyes meet, ‘darling i fancy you’

Regular dinner dates are scary, but dinner dates with a Premier League footballer are downright terrifying. 

You made Holland help you figure out what to wear, and when she showed up at your aunt’s house she had Keeley in tow.

“Heard you’re in need of a bit of a makeover,” she grins. “Lucky for you, that’s my specialty.”

Keeley and Holland have brought some of Holland’s dresses and you’re in a dark green one that “does fucking wonders for your hair, babe.”

Keeley did your makeup while Holland curled your hair and just like that, you’re ready to go.

You groan, “God, I fucking hate first dates,” while shaking out your arms. 

“It’ll be fine,” Holland promises, and she’s right.

It’s more than fine. It’s fucking fantastic.

“I like your smile,” Jamie says. ��Fuckin’ American, it is.”

You laugh. “What does that even mean?”

Jamie shrugs. “It’s bigger. Brits are more reserved. Like Roy. You met Roy yet? Biggest fucking twat I ever saw,” but he says it with such affection that you’re sure he means something else.

His eyes are electric, blue and dazzling. They betray his every thought and feeling and right now you feel like if you hold his gaze any longer you’re going to say something completely stupid. 

Turns out your not the one to say something stupid; he is.

You’re walking back to his car, holding hands and swinging them in between you when he stops and says, “Darling, I fancy you.”

You grin and he returns it. He asks, “Was that British enough for you? Feel like you got the whole experience?”

“Definitely,” you say. “Was I American enough for you?”

“Dunno,” he replies, “Got to test one more thing.”

His lips are very soft on yours.

met all of his best mates, so i guess all the rumors are true

“This is Isaac, Colin, Dani, and Sam.”

Jamie is introducing you to some of his team. You’ve been dating for a month now, and your first picture together just popped up in the papers the night before.

The boys of AFC Richmond were pretty sure Jamie was seeing someone, but they didn’t know who it was. Jamie had set up this dinner thing a while ago, it just so happened that the tabloids got to you first. 

It’s not even that great a picture honestly, but you’d been around Nelson Road enough that the boys were able to recognize you. 

It’s a little unnerving to meet them, what with Isaac’s intense stare and Dani’s wide, wide smile. You’re grateful Colin and Sam are acting normal.

“We have an American coach,” Colin says in an attempt to break the ice. It does, because you’re all laughing at the absurdity of his attempt. 

“We have heard very much about you,” Dani says and you wonder if he ever stops smiling. It feels so weird and so normal to be at Jamie’s house with a pile of food and FIFA queued up on the TV, ready to go. You figure that if you’re meeting his friends, Jamie must be at least a little serious. He finds your hand and squeezes it under the table as Isaac cracks his first smile of the night. It’s weird dating a footballer, but you think you can get used to it.

babes, don’t threaten me with a good time

Jamie’s house is the largest you’ve ever been in, and it used to be strange that it was only just the two of you, clattering around that big home. 

It’s a cool night after a warm day so you both decided to lay in his backyard under the stars. 

It feels so much like something you’d do as a teenager, and you tell Jamie as much.

“Used to sneak on me mum’s roof,” he tells you. “Didn’t even do dumb shit, I’d just go to look.”

You lay there in silence for a few moments until you feel something tickle your side.

“Jamie!” you shriek.

“I didn’t do nothing!” he protests. “Must’ve been a bug.”

You don’t believe him, but you don’t push it until you feel another tickle.

“Babe!”

“Babe, it weren’t me, I swear,” he says and you really don’t believe him, especially when he tickles you again less than a minute later.

You laugh. “Fuck you, Jamie Tartt.”

He smirks. “Babe, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“Hm, maybe I want a good time.”

Jamie’s grin widens and he sits up. “You know where the bedroom is, love.”

you know i love a London boy

“I don’t fucking get it,” Jamie says. You shrug. 

“I literally don’t either,” you say. Your dad leans over to Jamie. “So basically…” he begins.

He’s halfway through his explanation when Jamie pokes you. “Babe,” he says, “can we switch seats so I can hear your dad better?” You chuckle then wiggle your way into Jamie’s seat while he gets into yours.

“Why the fuck is it called ‘football’ if it’s with their hands?” Jamie asks.

Your dad shrugs. “Not a clue, son, not a clue.”

The game progresses and one of the teams scores a touchdown.

“Hold the fuck up,” Jamie says. “Why did their score change that much?”

“I know this one!” you exclaim. “Different types of goals get different points. And there’s something called a lateral which has to do with moving backward I think?”

You dad just shakes his head with a grin and doesn’t attempt to clarify. 

Your dad spends the second half explaining everything to a very focused Jamie, and he asks questions the entire car ride home. It’s funny have Jamie here in America, staying at your parents house and seeing where you grew up. 

When you’re finally back home and in bed, you pull him as close as you can and whisper, “I love you very, very much. You know that, right?”

You can feel Jamie smile against your hair. “I love you too, very fucking much.”