#plays 'the boys are back in town' full blast

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 1.2k | tags: first date, first kiss, very slight angst | written for the stwg daily prompt kiss in the rain)

Today has to be perfect, Eddie vows as he parks his van in the Harrington's driveway.

Because today Eddie is taking Steve out on their first date.

Frankly, he has no idea how he managed to get a date with the Steve Harrington. Even more, he has no idea how someone as beautiful and kind and sweet and funny as Steve would want to go out with someone like him.

It certainly helps that they saved the world together and share many, many traumas, as well as some horrible scars that tell the story of everything they've been through.

Eddie wants to believe that's not all that binds them, that the months they've spent growing closer over shared custody of Steve's six nuggets, movie nights, and long hours spent smoking and talking on top of the Munsons' new trailer have a lot to do with it, too.

But Eddie also knows that the Eddie of a year ago would have scoffed at the idea of going out with King Steve. Just like that Steve wouldn't have gone out with the town freak.

Which is why Eddie needs today to be a success.

Today has to be perfect.

As he rings the bell, his heart beats wildly in his chest and sweat forms on his palms.

Steve answers the door with a smile that makes Eddie's knees weak. "Hey," he says, and Eddie's mind blanks for a moment. Steve's wearing those jeans, the ones that look like they're painted on, showing off his legs and...other parts. And he has them paired with a striped polo shirt that is not supposed to look as good as it does.

"Hey," Eddie replies, finally finding his voice. "You ready for a day full of adventure?"

Steve grins and nods, stepping out and closing the door behind him. "Lead the way. As long as there are no monsters to fight, I'm game."

Eddie's plan is simple: a picnic in an empty field he found a few weeks ago, but first some good old-fashioned ball throwing to indulge Steve's love of sports. It's no secret that Eddie hates sports, but he's willing to make an exception for Steve. He often feels that Steve is the one indulging the kids, Robin, or even himself, because except for Lucas, none of their friends enjoy sports, either playing or watching.

So Eddie wants to show Steve that his hobbies and interests are important too, and that Eddie can try to be as involved in them as Steve is in his.

They drive to the field with music blasting, a mix tape that Eddie has made especially for this occasion, a perfect blend of his and Steve's taste in music, and he feels a little more at ease as Steve sings along, off-key and carefree. When "Somebody To Love" comes on, Steve playfully nudges him with his elbow and Eddie joins him as they both sing along, grinning broadly.

"Did you bring me here to murder me and get rid of the body, Munson?" Steve jokes at the sight of the empty field and Eddie lets out a theatrical cackle.

"Afraid I'm going to have my way with you, Harrington?"

Heat pools in his stomach at the smile Steve gives him in response.

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

Deciding on a hasty retreat before he does something embarrassing like whimper, Eddie climbs out of the van and goes to the back, pulling out an old baseball and a pair of gloves.

"Thought we could start with this," Eddie says, holding up the ball to Steve, who has followed him to the back of the van.

Steve's eyes light up at the sight. "You remembered."

As if Eddie could ever forget all the secrets and stories Steve had shared with him, while the stars above them were the only witnesses to some of the best moments of Eddie's life.

Steve had told him how he had always loved baseball as a little boy, and how his father had sometimes taken him to games. Looking back, Steve said he probably loved his father's attention and time more than the sport itself, but for whatever reason, it had been his first great love. He collected all the cards and knew everything there was to know about stats and players and rules. All he wanted was to be a player.

When he tried out at school, he didn't make the team. It was only years later that Steve found out why he had trouble hitting the ball with his bat: he had impaired vision, something his parents never bothered with, so he was never examined. At the time, he believed it was because he wasn't good enough, a failure. His dad seemed to think the same thing, because after he didn't make the team, he never took Steve to games again.

Steve hadn't played since, so Eddie figured it was time to help Steve have some good memories of baseball again.

Eddie shrugs, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, figured you'd like it."

They toss the ball back and forth, Steve coaching Eddie on his form, laughing when Eddie fumbles a catch. They're both having fun, and Eddie starts to relax, thinking maybe this date won't be a disaster after all.

But then Eddie misjudges a throw, and the ball smacks him right on the forehead. He stumbles back, more surprised than hurt, but his confidence takes a hit.

"Shit, Eddie, you okay?" Steve rushes over, concern etched on his face.

Eddie laughs it off, though his heart sinks. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just my luck, huh?"

Steve looks relieved but still worried. "Maybe we should take a break."

Eddie nods, feeling like he's already ruined things. He wonders why he thought it was a good idea to throw a ball with an ex-jock when he failed gym class more than once. So much for giving Steve a good baseball memory.

Still, he trudges over to the van to get everything they need for the picnic he has planned. The delighted smile on Steve's face at the sight of the basket and the blanket under Eddie's arm makes him think that maybe all is not lost. But just as he spreads out the blanket and unloads the food he's prepared, he glances up at the sky and sees dark clouds gathering. Still, he clings to the hope that they can finish before the rain comes.

Eddie should have known better. Luck and he have only been acquaintances at the best of times.

Just as they're settling in, the first raindrop falls, then another, and within seconds, it's pouring.

Eddie's heart sinks. This day was supposed to be perfect, and now it's a mess. "I'm so sorry, Steve. This was supposed to be perfect and now —"

Steve cuts him off with a bright laugh, his hair plastered to his forehead, rain running down his face. "Eddie, it's fine. Really."

Eddie looks at him, confused. "But the rain, and the ball, and—"

Steve steps closer, cupping Eddie's face in his hands. "I don't care about any of that. I care about you. You did so much for me today, Eddie." And before Eddie can respond, Steve kisses him.

It's a soft, lingering kiss that makes Eddie forget about the rain, the ball, and everything else. When they pull apart, Steve's smiling. "This is perfect, Eddie."

Eddie laughs, feeling lighter than he has all day. "Yeah, it kinda is."

As they pack up the picnic in the pouring rain, Eddie realizes that maybe perfection isn't about everything going right. Maybe it's about finding the right moments, even in the midst of chaos, with the right person.

[unknownarmageddon]

Christ Alive

a kross oneshot. in which they go to a party cackles

based on the song skeletone by bones uk rental suits au belongs to me and @psycho-chair

The parking lot was mostly empty, save for two, maybe three, cars. It was dark, the only thing visible in the black murk past the washed out lights of the gas station’s overhang was the passing specks of car headlights. 

    Cross leaned on the elbow he held propped on the counter, tried to tune out the mediocre mainstream music playing distantly over the store’s speakers, and watched the only customer inside idle about the shelves. 

The lights buzzed. two of the fridges against the back wall flickered every so often.

      The door chimed as it was opened, and another stranger entered. They wanted 50 dollars’ worth on pump three. And a pack of cigarettes. The door chimed again, then they were gone. 

The lights buzzed. The fridges flickered. Everything was delved in a cool colored haze. 

     The last remaining person in the store bought two drinks. With the dinging of the door as they left, a father and two kids entered. They piled their spoils, a mound of snacks, onto the counter.

      There were several minutes of vacancy. Nobody in the store but him. It felt like an eternity, always did. Cross fiddled with the shelves behind him to waste time. 

Buzzing lights. Uneven churring from the slushy machine in the back. 

        The door chimed. Footsteps, sneakers scuffing on tile. 

Cross turned, and could practically feel the grin boring into him.

Him again. 

    He was leaning forward over the counter with his arms crossed in front of him. His jacket had obtained a few new stains, both red and black. The faint, electric sound of music played from the chunky maroon headphones around his neck. 

Cross felt himself grin for a moment. He couldn’t help it.

“Hey pretty boy.” He looked at Cross with deep dark sockets. 

“Killer.” 

“Fancy seeing you here.” Killer quipped. 

    He pulled himself up to sit on the back edge of the counter, still facing Cross. Cross furrowed his brows. 

“I told you to stop sitting on the counter.”

Killer hardly considered moving. His soul hummed like even it was laughing. “You’re gonna have to make me, sweetheart.” 

Cross knew that wouldn’t have worked. And he didn’t really care, not enough to force him. 

“You miss me?” Killer quipped.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Cross replied. 

Killer laughed. “I’m wounded.” 

     Cross turned back to the shelf, and Killer slid off the counter to stand next to him. 

    “Ya got any plans tonight? Other than the blast you’re clearly havin’ already.” Killer murmured, hands shoved the pockets of his jacket. The fabric of he and Cross’s clothes brushed as they just almost touched, they were that close.

When did Cross ever have plans? He shook his head. 

Killer’s grin got wider. Cross narrowed his eyes at him. What was he planning.

     Killer hopped back over the counter and headed for one of the fridges in the back. Cross leaned over the counter on his elbows to watch him. 

“Y’know, there’s gonna be a party tonight. At ten.” Killer jerked open the door and crouched, now partially obscured by the shelf behind him. His voice came to Cross echoed by the distance.

“Where?”

“Some guy’s place in town, I dunno, all I’ve got is the address. He was really talkin’ a big talk, I wanna see if he’s full of shit or not.” Cross could tell he was grinning. He had that kinda voice. 

“And you want me to go with you.” Cross responded after a pause. 

From the fridge Killer retrieved two energy drinks. He stood and the door was closed with a shove from his foot. 

“Exactly.” 

He hesitated, apparently for dramatic effect knowing him, and waited for an answer.

“…I’m not going.” 

“C’monnn, you gotta get outta this boring ass gas station sometime. Have an actual good time.” Killer pressed.  

“I don’t do parties.”

“How bad could it possibly be?” 

“I doubt I would miss out on much.” Cross responded.

“You’d never know. Unless you go.” Killer persisted.

       Cross didn’t respond after that. He stared at the tile in front of Killer’s feet, turning the notion over in his mind. He knew damn well that if Killer wanted something he’d find a way to get it, so he doubted how much good resisting would do. 

      Killer weaved through the aisles to the middle of the store, then went for the far back. He cracked one of the energy drinks. 

“When are you gonna start paying for those?” Cross called to him. 

“You think about that party, ‘kay, pretty boy? Think about it.” Killer called back instead and pulled the headphones on. He vanished among the shelves. Cross saw the top of the storage room door as it opened, then closed.

      Cross was left alone in the store again. The trickle of costumers came and went, and he worked on autopilot. His mind was occupied by the party and the loiterer in the storage room.

     His first reaction was to not go. And he trusted that reaction. All he knew about it was that it would be loud and crammed with people he likely didn’t want to be around. And that he wouldn’t know anyone but Killer. He didn’t think— no he knew it wouldn’t be worth it. 

     But who knew how well Killer would take that news. And he kind of had a point about getting out of the gas station. 

      Cross worked for three more hours. Occasionally he would watch Killer slink from the back to steal another energy drink or two, or a bag of chips. Cross pretended not to notice. Every time Killer passed the counter he would toss a smug grin at Cross. Meant only for Cross. The kind that loosely hid all the kinds of things he would say out loud if they were alone. Cross pretended not to notice those, too. 

        He would’ve stopped him, confronted him again for never paying for what he took. But Cross didn’t exactly want to be on the receiving end of that knife he flashed the night they met. And when Killer was around he had company, and the extra shitty customers never came back. It was a fair trade. So what if a few cans went missing here and there. 

        When Cross’s shift came to an end he left the counter in favor of the storage room. The smell of smoke flooded his nose the minute he pushed open the door. It wasn’t invasive, but it was noticeable enough whenever you walked in. It’d always smelled like smoke in here, after Killer showed up.

           The culprit sat on the floor in the corner beside the door. He had fully tucked himself into that corner, in the gap between boxes and freezers that lined a few of the walls. He had one leg propped on the other, and the magazine he held obscured his face. Cross could still hear Killer’s music blasting through his headphones even from where he stood. 

“My shift’s over. You gotta leave.” Cross greeted him.

Killer pulled the headphones down and looked up over the edge of the magazine. He hadn’t heard him.

“Shift’s over.” Cross repeated. 

The music cut off; the magazine was shoved under a shelf. “You got it, boss.”

He pulled himself to his feet and left his corner to push past Cross, who tailed him in return. 

     The gas station’s front door chimed for the last time as they exited out onto the pavement in front of it. It was cold, Cross zipped up his jacket. His breath clouded in front of him as he watched insects buzz around the precious glow of the station’s lights. 

     After a moment of standing he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around at the vacant parking lot, awkwardly awaiting for whatever Killer was going to do. He didn’t trust him enough to leave first. 

His eyes landed on him. 

“What time’s it?” Killer asked.

Cross checked his phone. “Nine forty.” 

      Killer hopped off the slight incline of the pavement and moved through the darkness. To Cross he became a raccoon you’d see outside your garage. So blanketed in darkness it doesn’t look much like anything at all. Except, his soul provided a red halo around his silhouette. 

“You comin’?” Killer called over his shoulder and stopped. It was more of a request than a question. 

Hesitation. Cross glanced to his left, then back at Killer. “No?”

“You scared, sweetheart?” Killer replied. He could barely see him, but again Cross could tell he was grinning.

“No.” 

“C’mon, just this once. It’s just a party. One time’s not gonna hurt anything.” He said. More firmly, sharply. 

Killer gestured with his head, nodding, beckoning Cross to come with him.

“You always say that.”

“Am I wrong? Let’s live a little. Nothin’s gonna happen.” He spread out his arms, turning on his heel to look back at Cross. 

Cross scowled doubtfully. He’s known Killer for long enough to at least know going anywhere with him didn’t have any guarantees of anything. 

    Killer slunk back toward Cross and grabbed him firmly by the zipper of his jacket, pulling him down so their faces were level. His face was warmed by Killer’s breath. Killer looked him over, then dead on. 

Killer huffed a laugh. “You’re scared.”

     Cross paused for a long time. A car alarm started from somewhere distant in the dark. Then it was quiet again. 

“We’ll take the truck.” He decided eventually, flatly.

      Killer’s eyes widened. He released Cross and ran for said truck, which was parked back in front of the gas station. It was small, old, and white; one of those trucks that didn’t have back seats, and the front was one long singular bench with seatbelts that just went across the lap. 

      Killer was grinning, exclaiming to himself, in his triumph. He had gotten Cross to cave, andthey were taking the truck. 

      Killer rapped on the truck’s side with his palm as he stepped along it toward the door. He tried the door prematurely, eagerly. It was still locked. Then there was a click as Cross pressed a button on the interior of the driver side door and the rest of the doors unlocked. Killer jerked his open to slide into the passenger side; Cross got in after him, with less enthusiasm. 

The key met ignition and the vehicle grumbled to life like an aged animal. 

     Its beige leather seats were long worn, its paint was chipped in spots, it was overdo for a wash, and its windows were dusty and still functioned on a crank, but it served its purpose. 

     They left the parking lot. Cross heard Killer fighting with the window beside him, but he eventually got it open. Cold air streamed into the cab. Killer leaned against the door with his shoulder out the window. His feet were kicked up onto the dash. 

    In front of the windshield, dangling from the rear view mirror, hung a silver pendant on a chain and a long-expired air freshener. 

With each imperfection in the pavement they hit the cab bumped. 

“What’s the address?” Cross asked.

     A slip of paper was dug out of Killer’s pocket and examined. He put his legs down. 

“Left, up here.” He pointed, the turn signal clicked in time.

“Go for a bit,” He said now. “Here,” 

“Right, past here and down that road,”

     They drove for a while, mostly in silence save for Killer’s directions and occasional quips or broken humming.   Sometimes the headlights of a passing car or a lone streetlight would illuminate the cab; otherwise it was dark. 

Killer pointed at the windshield again. 

They were here. 

      What Cross saw was the front of an apartment building, one a few notches nicer than his own. That building immediately set the tone for the whole party in stone in Cross’s mind. It was fucking intimidating. He shouldn’t be here. 

   He glanced over at Killer, who was already slipping out of the truck. Cross inhaled and followed. 

———

       Upbeat music he’s heard everywhere a million times blasted through the apartment. Talking, laughing, shouting, all joined it. Lights everywhere, sounds everywhere. So many people were crammed in this single space.

     Cross was made hyper-aware of the presence of the other guests. The way they were dressed, the way they held themselves. They belonged here, he didn’t.

      He became Killer’s shadow. He kept his arms tight to his side, his eyes trained on his feet and Killer’s stride. He followed directly behind him as his companion sauntered through the apartment.

       They collected a few stares. What a sight they must be, two stupid boys wading through somewhere they shouldn’t be, one with stains on his clothes and one in a plain black jacket he’s had since high school. One with oil flowing from his eye sockets, one with an old rusted pickup. 

          Cross liked to imagine the things they whispered to themselves as the skeletons passed. Exclamations of surprise, of judgement. Eyes glued. 

     But, in reality, no one said anything. No one heckled them. He even doubted that many people were paying attention to them. Even still he was all too aware. 

      Finally, he and Killer breached the thick of the waves. Killer was saying something to another guest as he handed Cross a plastic cup of red liquid, which he accepted without much thought. 

“Whad’ya think?” Killer asked Cross and leaned against the table. He gestured with his free hand at everything around them like he was showing it all off. He held his own beverage in the other hand, Cross clutched his with both. 

    Cross didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to think. It was loud. There were way too many people. He’d decide eventually, he thought. 

     Killer lifted his cup to his mouth, then paused and lowered it. He deadpanned at it. 

“This tastes like shit.” 

Cross half-laughed, Killer grinned. 

      They stayed at that table for the duration of three, maybe four, songs. Killer did most of the talking. Cross only listened, offering the occasional hum in agreement or comment. Killer would point out people in the crowd he found notable for whatever reason to him. Made jokes, teased, rambled about menial things. He complained about the music, but he still tapped his finger against his cup in time. 

       Cross kept searching Killer, trying to figure him out. He wondered if he noticed how out of place they were. Or if he cared. But then he thought about it more, and he doubted he did.

     The song changed; Cross didn’t recognize this one. It was slower, but not melancholy. Carried by a steady rhythm and smooth electric guitar. Like the pounding of rain on concrete at night. 

Killer glanced up. “Fuckin’ finally, something good.”

     He set his cup down and pulled away from the table. “Alright I’m tired of standin’.” 

He stood with his back turned a moment, surveying the crowd, thumbs jammed in his shorts pockets, before he swiveled to offer his hand to Cross. “C’mon, you gonna do me the honor?” 

    Cross retracted, set his cup down and put his hands in the pockets of his jacket like he was hiding them. 

“I don’t dance.”

Maybe he would, in any other circumstance. When there weren’t so many people.

“Fuck babe, what do you do?” Killer replied. The corner of his mouth ticked up. 

    He pulled back toward Cross to nudge him with his elbow like he was trying to push him forward. 

“Dude,” Cross laughed. 

“We’re at a party, you gotta dance at least once.” He argued. “It’ll just be me, don’t worry about them.”

Cross conceded. “Just for this song, alright?”

    Cross quickly learned that Killer didn’t know how to dance either. They devolved into a mess of movements, a tangle of limbs. Killer held a hand to Cross’s hip, Cross held one to Killer’s shoulder. Occasionally their hands would intertwine. 

      They exchanged steps off-rhythm. Killer was quick, Cross took strides to catch him. 

      Cross continued to be aware of the other dancers, even here. He couldn’t shake them from his mind. He wasn’t nearly as coordinated, and he had a habit of staying too stiff and rigid. But Killer had enough confidence for both of them.

       All Cross saw was the carpet, his eyes glued to their feet. Making his best effort not to trip. Or get stepped on. He risked a glance up at Killer’s face. He was grinning with the most actual enthusiasm Cross had seen from him tonight, and it became infectious. 

“You keepin’ up, pretty boy?” Killer asked, catching Cross and keeping him from looking back down. 

“You’re horrible at this.” Cross replied.

“And you dance like you’ve taken ballet since kindergarten.” Killer scowled, but his eyes were still grinning. 

     In the last remaining minute of the song they slowed, swayed, leaning into each other. They let the wave of other dancers surge around them. Killer hooked an arm around Cross’s neck, Cross laid his over his shoulders. Cross watched him, awaiting his next move silently. 

Killer took Cross’s left hand and pressed a slow kiss to his knuckles.

Cross decided this party wasn’t that bad, at least.

          Killer’s song ended. They untangled. Cross followed Killer as he slunk over to the apartment’s kitchen, where refreshments were strewn over the counters. The nearby balcony’s door was propped open, and Cross lingered there in the opening. Cool outside air hit his back. 

       Now Killer was chatting up another guy at the table. Like he always did when they went out anywhere. As if out of habit. Cross disregarded them; all he heard was Killer say “is that a challenge?”.  He would’ve dwelled on it more, been more bothered, but he put his attention on everyone else. He scanned the crowd like he expected to be jumped. 

   Beside him Killer returned and he felt him press up against him. He knew he was grinning. His hand wandered Cross’s arm, then his back. He smelled like smoke. What was he after. 

Cross’s face grew warm. His shoulders tensed. But he averted his eyes, kept his focus on the crowd. 

     His gaze landed on one woman in particular, not far from the table. She was surrounded by her own group of people, but for some reason she was staring directly at him, both of them. With this look in her eye.

      Her lips, which were covered in a red smothering of lipstick, ticked down in a grimace. 

What a sight they must be. 

      A wildfire of anger burst up through Cross. His bones grew hot, like he was being burned by it. She made him so fucking mad. He couldn’t process why.

      She hadn’t even said anything. Not yet. But he knew she would. It was a matter of time, with the way she was  looking at them. 

     Cross searched her, trying to gauge her. He knew these kinds of people all too well. 

   He returned her look in a blank stare. In it, he silently poured out every bit of desire he had to wipe that look off on the wall behind her. He doubted he’d actually do something, though. It wasn’t worth whatever hell would come of it. 

Still, it leaked into his voice.

“Someone’s staring.” He said, quietly, and Killer retracted slightly.

      He followed Cross’s gaze. His grin fell. The soul in front of his chest flickered, becoming an unstable ever-shifting shape far from a circle. To Cross it resembled a star nearing on a supernova. 

      He wasn’t being nearly as discrete as Cross; he glared back at her with just as much anger. If not more. Like a dog with teeth bared. 

 His voice dripped venom. “I’ll deal with ‘er.”

     Cross’s companion pulled away from the table and over to the woman. Each step carried a buried intention, buried fury, with it.

Cross felt like someone’s gonna die. 

     Cross blinked and Killer was already in front of her. She said something to him, and he heard Killer shout back at her. He blinked again and Killer’s fist was flying. The woman’s head skewed to the side unnaturally, awkwardly. Then she fell to a heap on the carpet; A painted lady sprawled across the floor like a body bag. 

       She struggled to her elbows, coughed blood onto the carpet. The tease of a grimace became a full-fledged snarl. Her pretty prim lipstick was smeared. 

Cross didn’t hear anything. Hardly even saw anything but Killer and the woman. Only the pounding of blood in his ears and flashing lights in the corner of his vision. 

A needle of sudden anxiety, anticipation, stabbed Cross. Nothing good was gonna come from this.

If they hadn’t been before, everyone was certainly staring now. 

     The few nearest were on Killer like a pack of wolves to a carcass.

Someone was gonna die. 

       The surge consumed Killer. Shouting roared over the music. Cross barely saw him as he clawed, fought, screamed. Grinned. The suddenness of it all startled Cross out of his anger. 

     Two attackers were thrown back, blood streaming from their noses. Two more took their place. 

       At some point Killer’s jacket slipped,  leaving shoulders exposed. And one of his sleeves was torn now. Bits of bleach-white bone were visible like Cross was peaking through a break in the blinds. 

         For a moment, he just stood and watched. Watched Killer fight like an animal. Admired the fluidity of his movements. Stared into the flames. 

God,

He couldn’t help it. 

Maybe this is what he came to this dumb party for. 

       Killer got tackled by two guys much larger than him and Cross, simultaneously, was thrown into the mess by someone behind him he didn’t see. It was like he was in a hornet’s nest. It was confusing, loud, violent. He didn’t know what to do, how to do it.

        Somehow, he gathered himself and he and Killer managed to push back the swarm. Everything broke like oil and water, if only for a moment. 

        Killer now stood on Cross’s right, clutching his wrist tight in his hand. On the other, his left, was a smear of red lipstick. He held it curled in a fist. 

Cross’s magic pounded in his ears.

    There was a single heartbeat of still, then they were on them again, just as quick. They tore at them, stampeded over them. Except now Cross was in the middle of it. And at that moment he wanted to be anywhere else. But he didn’t really, either. This was where Killer was. 

It became war.

     Like with dancing, Cross wasn’t as confident a fighter as Killer. And he doubted his skills. But he wasn’t harmless, he hoped. 

      He tried to stay close to Killer, to not lose him to it all. That became his only goal. To not lose Killer, and to survive. 

      Cross grabbed another guy by the shirt and pulled him off of Killer, then had to spin to push someone different back with a strike from the elbow. It was overwhelming, smothering. Everyone on every side at all times. 

        Occasionally he got glances of Killer as he would stumble backward, only to run back in, laughing. He never stayed in range of who he fought, always jumping in and back out. Circling, a wolf nipping at the ankles of an elk. But he hit hard, knew what he was doing. 

          Warm blood ran into Cross’s eye, obscuring his vision. He must’ve busted an eyebrow. 

         Even before that, his vision became blurred. All he saw were movements. He focused everything on not drowning. Where was Killer? He had lost sight of him at some point. But the thought was ripped from his mind as he sustained a kick to the back and staggered. He gritted his teeth and returned the hit, pushed someone he didn’t see long enough to identify away. He rammed someone else with his shoulder. 

      Then he took another, harder, blow. This time to the side of the head. He felt like his whole skull was jarred and he staggered again, almost falling this time. 

Someone grabbed his wrist. 

It was Killer.

     He ripped Cross from it all, fingers dug into his arm. Then they were running. He knew they were being followed. Killer shouted something. At some point they were in a stairwell, descending. Pounding in his skull was all he heard. 

Suddenly, cold night air.

They were outside. There was Cross’s truck.

       They ran to it and pulled the door’s open so hard he was surprised they weren’t thrown off their hinges. They were slammed closed just as hard.

       Cross stuck the keys in the ignition and turned as fast as he could manage. 

       Six remaining pursuers flooded from the apartment. They tried to follow, yelled curses and profanities. 

“Go, go, go!” Killer shouted.

“I’m trying!”

     They pulled out and ended back on the road. 

      Finally, things started to slow back down. But Cross still felt like he wasn’t there. He felt like he was still at that party, busting his knuckles on strangers out for his blood. He didn’t even feel relief yet, that they were in the safety of Cross’s truck now. He didn’t feel much of anything.

    The first thing Cross fully registered was Killer slamming his arm on the side of the door four times. “Holy shit!” 

He put his hand to his head. “Holy shit.” 

    He was making an expression Cross couldn’t read, or place. Was it excitement? Surprise? Detest? Fear? Maybe just adrenaline. He was grinning. But he always was. His eyes were wide. Like he had just gotten off a rollercoaster. 

Cross glanced at him again after checking the road. “You’re bleeding.”

He was, from the nose. 

“So’re you.” 

     Cross put a finger to his eyebrow and felt warm liquid. The wound stung, he just now noticed. He wouldn’t notice the rest of his pain until much later, when the adrenaline was out of his system. 

“Dude that was fucking insane.” Killer breathed. He almost laughed as he said it. 

“It was worth it, though.” He added. “God, getting to wipe that look off her face,” 

“Mm,” Cross hummed absently. Was it worth it? Part of him agreed silently. 

“Showed her. Fucking showed her.” Killer continued, mostly to himself.

      “You’re alright?” Cross asked, eyes pinned to the road. He still felt jittery. He hated having to sit here this long. 

“Oh, what, me? Yeah I’m fine, I’m fine. Nothin’ I can’t handle.” Killer replied. He wiped at his nose, then cleaned the remaining lipstick from his hand on his jacket. 

He was so… unaffected. Like this was an everyday occurrence for him. Maybe it was. 

      Cross rubbed the blood from his brow again. It hadn’t stopped bleeding yet. He wondered how bad it was. But he didn’t check the rearview mirror for his reflection. 

He felt Killer’s eyes on him.

“It’s a look, y’know.” Killer quipped. 

Cross laughed quietly. “What, having dried blood on my face?”

      They drove in silence for a while. Cross’s soul was still pounding. At some point he collected himself enough to remember to put on his seatbelt. He listened to the occasional clicking of the turn signal and Killer’s mindless tapping. It grounded him, pulled him away from the party. 

“I didn’t know you could fight like that.” Killer said eventually. “Didn’t think you had it in ya.” 

“I was just trying not to get killed.” Cross responded dryly, like it was a fact. He hadn’t thought it was that impressive. 

Killer laughed. Even though it was the truth.

“Wasn’t too bad, either. I could teach ya a thing or two, though. If you wanted.” 

Killer offered with a grin.

Cross considered it just for a moment. “I think I’m fine.”

“Your loss. You think about it, ‘kay?” Killer replied. “I’d love t’see what you could do if you knew what you were doin’” 

Cross just hoped he wouldn’t find himself in a situation where he needed to know what he was doing.

      Killer leaned forward to start messing with the truck’s radio. He flicked through stations and static. 

“I didn’t expect that many people to come after us.” Cross said. 

“Yeah, god, it was like everyone at that party was pissed.”

“What’d she say? I saw her say something to you.” Cross asked.

“What d’you think? Some stupid shit about us. I dunno, I don’t remember.” Killer said, scowling at the radio. Cross knew he remembered, but he didn’t press. 

Killer eventually found a station he was satisfied with and leaned back. Now a loud, quick, shouty rock song Cross hadn’t heard quietly filled the background of the cab. 

Killer stretched out his arms. “Well, I’d consider tonight a success.” 

Cross stared at him.

Killer laughed. “Eyes on the road, sweetheart,”

———

        After what felt like an eternity they ended up at Cross’s apartment. Cross fumbled with keys to unlock the door and they stumbled inside. Everything was dark, lit only by the lights of the street and a standing lamp near the door Cross bothered to flick on as they entered. 

        The first thing Cross did was go for the fridge in the conjoined kitchen. It was mostly empty, but he found a cold canned drink and tossed it to Killer. He pressed it to limbs, to his face, soothing the bruises he had acquired. 

         He had a faint, dark ring around one of his eye sockets in the start of a black eye. Cross took his wrist and slowly, firmly, guided his hand to the socket. 

“You caused a lot of trouble.” Cross murmured, sighing, as he held his hand there. 

“You saw the way she was looking at us.” Killer replied sharply.

Cross retracted his hand, stood there to look at him. “Still,” 

“She was basically just askin’ for it, anyway. No one else was gonna do it.” Killer argued.

“I think I’m gonna have a headache for a week. Thanks to you.” Cross said, though he was just barely smiling.

“You’re welcome.” Killer grinned.

“Mm.”

          After, the can was handed back to Cross. It was just barely warmer, just barely flecked with blood. He pressed it to his own bruises, and to his eyebrow. The start of a headache stabbed at him. 

            Cross watched Killer as he fixed his jacket from where it had fallen off his shoulders. Just as closely as when he had watched him fight.

He felt both of them linger there, unsure. Awkward. Mutually asking “what now?”

“Well, it’s been a hell of a night, but I better be gettin’ outta here. I’m a busy man, y’know.” Killer said finally, flicking up his hood over his head. 

“Already?” Cross asked. 

Of course.

“Don’t worry, you’re not gettin’ rid of me that easy. I’ll be back.” Killer said, brushed up against Cross as he headed for the door, grinning up at him. He caught Cross’s hand and held it in his for just a moment. 

      ‘I’ll be back’ could’ve meant a myriad of things. Cross could see him tomorrow. Maybe in a few hours, even. Or he could see him next in however many days.

      Cross’s mouth teased a smile and he shook his head. He followed him to the doorway, where Killer lingered, holding the door open with one hand. 

It sounded like it was raining outside. 

     For some reason, in that moment Cross remembered what Killer had said at the gas station, before they left. 

His eyes widened, then narrowed at him. “You’re such a liar. You said nothing would happen.” 

“Your favorite liar.” Killer grinned.

    He leaned farther through the doorway toward him and pressed a kiss to Cross’s teeth, as if it was some kind of weird apology. It tasted like smoke. And blood. Cross let it happen, didn’t want it to end as quick as it did. 

“We should do this again sometime.” 

Then it was over, Killer was gone, and all Cross saw was the door as it clicked closed.

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

changeling steve whose fae abilities activate early bc of the upside down, which surprises him bc he had no idea he wasn't human

usually changelings are a little weird, but don't become like Full Fae until they come of age, somewhere around 20, but sometimes if their life is in danger or they're otherwise under a great deal of stress, they can Blossom early

steve's never been a little weird. in fact, he's always been good at being Very Normal, always exactly what everyone expects him to be, exactly what everyone wants him to be. when he's young, his parents want a quiet boy they can show off at dinner parties, so steve dutifully bends his personality into shape, polite and good enough at the piano to play something for the grownups and let them coo over him (never too good or too polite, because his parents want him to be a little boy who'll grow into a Man's Man, and that means not liking music too much and climbing trees without getting dirty and pulling on girls pigtails)

when he gets to high school, his parents want him to join sports teams, so he bends his personality again and doesn't think about how easy it is for him to gain the muscle mass and dexterity required, because he must just have some kind of natural talent for it. the team has its own expectations of him: they want a King, someone who's good with girls and likes to kick down at the unpopular masses, so he does that too, picks up on everyone's insecurities the easiest out of all his followers, always seems to know exactly how to twist his words to make his victims feel the worst

then he meets nancy, and it's the first time he's not sure exactly what someone wants from him. sometimes he wonders if she even knows what she wants him to be. he still does his best though, because that's what he does, bending and twisting into the perfect boyfriend, sweet, attentive, a little roguish just to keep the edge on. and for a while it works, even after barb and the demogorgon and the nailbat in his trunk that doesn't fit any of the people he's supposed to be and sometimes makes him itch so much he feels like his skins going to crawl off

but then it's the next halloween, and nancy calls him bullshit and he knows she's right. doesn't know how to not be bullshit though, no ones ever wanted that from him. he could try though, for her, he thinks, if that's what she wants, so he shows up at her house a few days later with a bouquet, only to find dustin henderson demanding he take out his bat again

and later, in the junkyard, while the kids are in the bus yelling and steve's been knocked on his back by a demodog, bat out of reach as he frantically pushes at the heavy weight of the monster on top of him, he curses how weak and useless his stupid human hands are. if he was more like the demodogs, with their gnarled claws and copious amounts of teeth, he'd have no problem winning this fight. and as he thinks it, as he deliriously and desperately wishes he had some kind of natural defense against creatures like this, something changes inside him. it feels like someone's injected pop rocks into his bloodstream, and they seem to collect in his hands, where they're still uselessly scratching at the demodogs tough hide

except, they're not uselessly scratching anymore. now they're carving into the thing like butter, because his nails have gone from blunt and fragile to something long and hard like steel, and the tendons in his hands have shifted and strengthened to be much more effective at cutting through meat. he has claws now. actual, literal claws, a lot like the ones the demodogs have, although his are sort of glowing and shimmering from within like he's full of fireflies. it would explain the buzzing in his veins. but he can't think about that now, has to get this thing off of him, has to protect the kids, has to live another day

and at the same time, across town in a little trailer, the only two witches in hawkins have just gotten hit with a blast of released magical energy that's so strong it sends them physically reeling. eddie actually falls on his ass. wayne helps him up while the kid asks what the hell that was, and honestly wayne isn't absolutely sure himself. doesn't feel human, even if the mortal panic it's laced with feels very human indeed, and it takes him a while to place that fizzy feeling as fae magic. a Blossoming.

so he explains to eddie about changelings, cuffs him good-naturedly around the head when the kid immediately relates it to his nerd game (he does this every time wayne teaches him something new about magic), and explains a little more about fae in general. he's told eddie about them before, but fae tend to keep to themselves, so there's been no real need to explain more than basic etiquette and safety measures eddie should take if he ever came across a fairy in the wild

now though, he explains, he thinks eddie should reach out. that Blossom was early, panicked, which means there's some kid out there about eddie's age who's going through magical puberty into an entirely new species directly after some kind of terrible ptsd-inducing event. so he tells eddie to keep an eye out for them at school, because magical folk gotta stick together, and eddie agrees, because they do, and frankly yeah that sounds like a terrible thing to go through alone and confused

so imagine his dismay when king steve shows up to school the week after, clearly beat to shit and looking confused as hell when the things he reaches for end up in his hand without him actually grabbing them

reaching out might be a little harder than eddie expected. but, cursing himself a little for being too good a person to leave even king steve in the dark like that, he does it anyway.

[lukeywritesstuff]

this request might be a little confusing to type out but hear me out😭🤣 could u write something ab the reader having a kid and the devils having a event where the players get to train with the kids! the readers kid is one of the kids at the event and luke falls for the reader somehow through that! idk i have this vision in my head but idk how to type it out😭

Little League

Luke Hughes x mom!reader

Note: don’t worry! I totally understand what you’re saying. I read this and kinda had a social media/irl storyline come to my mind so I hope that’s alright! Also I kinda made them slightly know each other, but like acquaintances and they have like mutual friends kinda sorta.

Warnings: a shit ton of fluff. Literally it’s all fluff. Like I don’t even think this has cursing in it. And if so maybe once.

My name is Y/N, and when I was 15 I had a son. He is absolutely everything to me. I was young, and dumb, but if I was given the option to go back and never hook up with some senior at my school, I wouldn’t take the offer. I love my little man too much.

When he was 2 he fell in love with hockey, so at 3 I let him start learning how to skate and grasp the basics of playing hockey, even though for his age it was just floor. Now at 5 he’s playing fully on ice and his team was even invited to practice with the New Jersey Devils, as his team, and we, are based in Newark.

Once we got to Prudential Centre the boys were sent to the main locker room, their names were on tape right under their buddy for the day. I was looking around and right under ‘Luke Hughes’ in full capital letters read ‘Ethan Y/L/N’. I walked my son over to the stall where his name was (obviously avoiding the logo) and I helped him change into his pads, uniform and skates.

After all the kids were settled and ready, coach Ruff started explaining to the kids and the parents how this practice session basically works.

It’s a 4 week training camp, and it’s every Wednesday that the devils are in town. (So 4 Wednesdays, but sometimes there’s a week between the practices without one cuz they’re away) after everything was explained, the Devils were brought into the locker room to meet with their buddies for the program.

The second Ethan saw Luke the smile on his face grew by about 100%. He watched him on Michigan last season as my sister goes there and is friends with some of the older players on the team, and they’ve met before, so he’s excited to see his old friend.

“LUKEY! You’re my buddy! I’m so happy! I missed you! Are we gonna shoot pucks and score on everyone!?” My 5 year old said acting like I just fed him 3 coffees with a side of 10 pounds of sugar.

“Oh yeah we are! We’re gonna be the best group on the ice! With the best cheerleader! Right Y/N?” He said and I smiled at them giving a thumbs up.

After the rest of the kids got to know their buddy a little more the teams were ushered onto the ice, and parents were to stay along the sidelines and not interfere unless there was an emergency.

The team had several smaller nets put up along the boards to practice shooting, cones near centre ice to practice skating, and pucks EVERYWHERE. The kids were all having a blast, and so were the professionals.

By the end of the 2 hours all the kids looked ready to nap, and honestly so did most of the players. Everyone went into the locker room and the players helped the kids with their skates before they talked to the parents.

“So, how was Ethan out there?” I asked the curly headed man smiling at me.

“He’s great. Future NHL superstar I think. The next Gretzky! Forget about bedard!” He said.

“I’m glad my kids THAT GOOD.” I smiled.

“Yeah he is. How are you though? I haven’t seen you since you and Ethan visited Sarah?!” He said bringing up my sister.

“Everything’s great here actually! He’s loving kindergarten now and I got a raise which is why I put him into this. As a little treat for him.” I smiled.

“You’re such a good mom to him. You know, since we’re both in Jersey, I think we should finally exchange numbers, and maybe we can go out for lunch one day Eth’s in school and you’re off and I don’t have practice!” He said smiling.

“You know what, sure Hughes. Pass me your phone and we can text tonight about said lunch date.” I said before taking his phone.

Ynstagram

Had a great time with the @njdevils and @lhughes_06. Eth will never forget this. Thank you so much 🫶🫶

╔═══════════════════╗

The second week was 2 weeks later as the devils had their first road trip of the season. The kids were extra excited because the wait was longer than they expected it to be.

The second Ethan saw Luke he ran to the man and attached himself to him, it didn’t seem weird because quite a few of the kids did the same to their buddies.

Today on the ice they were doing more team oriented practices instead of just one on one. So Luke, Jack, Dawson, and Nico were working together with Ethan and 3 other kids. It wasn't too eventful, just 2 on 2 scrimmage and small drills that 5 year olds can handle.

But this time after helping Ethan change and it was time for Luke and I to talk about his progress, he asks me out for the next evening, I said yes because Ethan was already gonna be at my parents so I'll be home alone anyways, why not spent that evening with Luke!

[caradecema]

Again// Twisters

Part 2

Summary: A love-hate relationship between a cold, could careless, Scott and happy, carefree Marian. The two of them are on different sides when it comes to chasing Tornadoes.

What could happen between the two of them when Tyler Owens is playing Cupid.

{Scott x OC fem}

Part 1, Part2, Part3, Part4, Part5

-=-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-

A few days had gone by since they had run into the Storm Par. Marian had been clicking away in her tablet as they came to the outer parts of a town a soft smile on her lips when she saw the change in weather. "A tornado is coming-" she was cut short when the white trucks that belonged to Javi and his team passed them making Tyler cuss them off. "Always want to show off how their pretty little trucks run." 

Marian was quick to look for Scott the older man already looking at her from the back seat of Javi's truck. As always Marian blew him a kiss before turning back to her tablet. "Keep going straight and take a left on the next exit" Tyler nodded as he gave Kate a smile as he took off.

When they turned they all came to a stop as they began to see where the tornado would form. Marian clicked away on her tablet before putting it down and taking a look around. "Right there" She spoke to Boone the younger boy nodded as he left to tell Tyler who was too busy flirting with Kate. Marian turned seeing Javi already looking at her as she began to make her way to him.

"Where were you guys this past few days?" She asked. "North from here," Javi told her before excusing himself. Marian looked up to see Scott looking at the sky. "Do you ever talk?" She asked as she took a sip of her sprite. Scott looked down at her as if studying her before taking out his clipboard writing something and heading back to the truck giving orders to whoever was on the other end of the call. 

"Well fuck you man, pinchi pendejo" Marian spoke as she left but not before getting an idea a smirk formed on her lips as she grabbed a hand full of mud throwing at him.

Scott let out a surprise yelp as he turned to see his white shirt covered in mud as Marian ran away from him. "That bitch" He murmur before grinning when he saw her trip right before she made it to Owen's truck. 

That grin left as fast as it came when Owens picked her up his annoying laugh sounded as he did. Looking up he saw Javi appear again giving him a look before handing him a towel "Don't get my truck dirty" Javi told him before heading to the truck and starting it. Looking up Scott saw Marian looking at him her tongue out before she flipped him off.

The chasing had been something... the tornado had not fully formed before it disappeared leaving them dry in adrenaline. "Well that was disappointing" Boone spoke making the others nod as they began to make their way into town. When they arrived they were quick to get a motel to spend the night.

After a quick shower and changing into some shorts, an oversized T, and some boots she made her way outside. "Little one" Tyler shouted making her smile as she joined him, her hands wrapping around his side as he did the same. "Any others coming soon?" Tyler asked as he sat next to her in the back of the truck. "Nope, they left us high and dry," Marian told him as she placed her tablet down resting her head on his shoulder.

"That's a bummer, how about tomorrow?" Marian grinned "If we have luck we should get an EF2 or 3 around 6" Tyler nodded. "I'll be back want something from the store?" Marian asked "Nah I'm good," Tyler told her making her chuckle when she saw him staring at Kate. 

Marian made her way to the store looking for some lays and a sprite. As she browsed through the store jamming to the music blasting through her AirPods she came to a stop when she collided with someone.

"I am so sorry, I wasn't paying-" Looking up she saw Scott looking at her with a raised eyebrow as he held her phone which he had caught before it fell. "Can I get my phone back?' She asked making Scott look at her, his eyes scanning what she wore. 

"No," He told her as he placed it in his shirt pocket. "What?" Marian asked looking at him dumbfounded. "I need an apology first for my shirt," He told her making her sigh as she remembered her earlier stunt. Scott couldn't help but make a mental note of how when she was mad her eye would twitch and she would bite her bottom lip.

"You full-on deserve that one... You think you all mighty to even speak with me?" Marian asked her hand resting on her hip with an eyebrow raised. "I don't have to talk to low hillbilly like you" Marian's eyes widen before punching Scott on the stomach making him grunt. "God fucking damn it, you fucking hill-" Before he said anything a slap followed "Fuck you Scott" Marian sneered taking his cap as she left forgetting her phone.

The following morning Marian woke up with the knocks of Lily the girl telling her to hurry because they were leaving. "Did you not put an alarm?" Lily asked as she helped her pack her clothes. That's when she remembered she hadn't taken her phone back from that insufferable cunt. "It's dead, sorry" She apologized making Lily wave her off as they threw her stuff into the van before Marian joined Tyler in the truck.

"It seems the tornado is forming now," Tyler told her as Boone got the cameras rolling for their upcoming adventure. "Well it is southwest from here we should be there in 10 minutes" Marian smiled as Boone began to speak to the camera before shoving it in her face making her smile as she said hi to Tyler's fans. 

As they got close the familiar white trucks of Javi and his team appeared this time Marian did not bother to look up her eyes remained on her tablet as she shouted at Tyler where to go.

Scott's eyes stayed on her and his hat and she felt them but refused to look at him after his earlier comment. "Turn right, here" Marian shouted making Tyler laugh as he did making all four of them hold tightly into their seatbelts. Looking up Marian saw the weather began to change the once clear sky was now black and moody. "I would put your seatbelt on if I were you" Tyler spoke to the British guy who gulped as he placed the second one on just as Marian went wide eye.

"Tyler let's get the fuck out of here" She shouted when she saw the numbers on her tablet going wild. "What?" Tyler looked at her in disbelief. "This isn't an EF2 its fucking 4" Tyler went wide eye at her words as he looked outside. "Boony call the others and let them know to turn around" Marian shouted as she reached for her phone just to remember Scott had it. Not bother to ask Marian reach for Tyler's phone and unlock it before dialing Javi's number.

"Fuck, you better still have your old one" Marian prayed as it began to ring. Not a second later the familiar voice of Javi sounded. "Javi it's Mar, turn around it's an EF4 not a 2" She shouted when she saw the tornado begin to form. "Are you sure?" Javi asked as their truck came to a stop a few yards away from their own.

"Kate, you see it don't you?" Mar shouted at the phone as Tyler began to head back in their direction. "Turn, this isn't good" The voice of Kate sounded before Scott began to speak but by then the call had ended. "For what I can see no towns are near the path the Tornado will take" Mar looked relieved at this.

When they all made it back to the hotel no one truly spoke. "It seems luck is not on our side" Lily spoke as she walked down from the van making the others nod. "Perhaps tomorrow," Tyler told her as he took leave when he saw Kate and Javi. Mar smiled before heading off to the same room she had stayed the previous night.

By nightfall, she had been called by the others to join them for dinner. As she made her way down to the dinner she came face to face with Scott. The taller boy looked at her as he came out of his room. "I need my phone" Mar spoke her tone flat making Scott give her a look as he made his way to his room just to come out with a bottle of Sprite and her phone.

Marian gave him a look as she took the bottle of Sprite. "Did you poison it?" She asked as she gave the bottle a weird look. "I'll take it back then" Scotts spoke as he reached for the bottle making Mar laugh as she hid it behind her. "I'm kidding," She told him before opening it as she placed her phone in her pocket.

"Good call out there," Scott told her making her smile at him a look of disbelief on her face "Is Scott praising me? The world must be ending" She joked as she took a sip of her sprite. "Don't push it" Scott told her crossing his arms, making her look at his man boobs causing her to bite down on her lips so that she wouldn't smirk.

"Oh Scotty you do have a heart" she added as she passed him. "I still want an apology and my hat back," He told her grabbing her arm and stopping her from leaving making her grunt. "You know full well you deserve it and the hat looks way better on me than you," She told him crossing her own arms this time. Scott's eyes linger a few seconds too long on her hard nipples before looking elsewhere. "Then a new shirt," He told her smirking when he saw her face. But he wouldn't deny it the hat looked better on her than him.

"A new shirt? You can easily clean it and boom brand new" She told him stepping close to him. "Then you should clean it, shortcake" For some reason the nickname made her feel horny even though she knew he was mocking her. "I'm pretty sure you already did, Scotty" She purr his nickname a smirk forming on her lips when she saw him clenching his jaw. "Isn't your boyfriend going to get jealous when he sees you wearing my hat?" Mar gave him a look.

"He's not my boyfriend, I just happened to know that dumbass since we were in diapers," Mar told him. Scott didn't know why but he felt relief at the news of Tyler and her not being a thing. 

"See you around, Scotty... Thanks for the gum and Sprite" She shouted making Scott look at her confused as he reached for his back pocket noticing he was missing his gum.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-

[apocalypseornaw]

A Memory or Me (Pt 2/3)

Sam Winchester x Reader

You overhear a conversation between Sam and Dean that hurts

You loved so many things about Sam. His heart, the way he cared so deeply. His brain, the fact that he could retain information about lore he'd read years before. His smile, the way it warmed you just seeing it. You loved the way he held you, his larger frame making you feel tiny. You loved the way he kissed you, the way that no matter how long the two of you had been together he always checked on your comfort level every time he slid into you, touched you, pushed you over that edge time and again.

You hadn't told him you loved him yet. For one you didn't want to push him. You were his first relationship after Jess, yeah he'd had a couple hookups but you were the first to stick around. 

Maybe you'd hoped he would say it first, but he never did. The longer you were together the more you wondered if he would ever say it. 

Bobby's house was the closest thing to home any of you had ever had, perks of your life. You were in the kitchen, making tea and checking on the cookies Bobby had talked you into making while you were in town.

Dean was outside changing the oil in the impala and in your car as well. Sam was with him so you had music playing and a couple lore books on the table. Things had been going good with you and Sam, even hunting practically full time with the boys was going well enough.

____________

You'd just sat down at the table when you heard Bobby call your name. You walked into the living room where he was sitting at his desk “You rang?” 

He shook his head but you could see the smile playing at his lips “Go take those knuckleheads some water if you will. It's eighty today and they grabbed a beer each before going out” You nodded then headed back to the kitchen. The timer for the cookies had just chirped so you pulled them out and sat them on top of the stove to cool before grabbing two bottles of water out of the fridge.

_____________

You knew your way around the junkyard well enough. Dean would hopefully have the cars under the shelter in the back that was also used as a painting booth for times like when the impala was totaled around John's death. 

You could hear music blasting and laughed when Dean's voice mingled with the radio on “You shook me all night long”

“Winchesters!” You hollered as you got closer and Sam was the first one to pop his head out, a smirk on his face “So I'm back down to just being one of the Winchester?” You shrugged “Well I mean I did wake up alone this morning. Could make a girl feel some type of way”

He raised an eyebrow when you walked beside him into the paint booth and held a bottle of water out to Dean “Like it or not Bobby didn't want you two dehydrating out here and when he says to drink water over alcohol you know it's bad” Dean took the water with a wink “Any other person I'd say but I mean at least the water delivery girl is cute” 

You rolled your eyes and felt Sam's arms slip around your waist “Easy Dean. She's taken” you laughed and passed a bottle of water into Sam's hand “You two are adorable really but I gotta finish helping Bobby with some chores inside while I'm here” Sam leaned down and gripped your chin with one of his hands to turn your head and give him access to your lips. 

The kiss was gentle and you smiled against his lips “Well talk about adorably nauseating” Dean teased so you pulled away from Sam to glare at him “Bite me Dean” “Ain't that Sammy's job?” He replied with a grin. You felt your face warm but shook your head “With that I'm going inside”

________________

A while later Bobby sent you out to retrieve the boys because he needed them to make a run into town. You were walking up to the open side door of the paint booth when you heard Dean say “So you and Y/N are coming up on a year and I don't know if I missed it but have you told her you love her man?”

You froze on the spot. You shouldn't be hearing this, it was a violation of not only Sam's privacy but the privacy between brothers as well. Yet you remained rooted on the spot “I haven't” Sam's voice came and you felt your stomach drop. Would you hear him say he loved you or admit he didn't?

“Why not?” Dean pushed and you could practically see his stance, arms crossed over his chest and green eyes boring into his younger brother. You heard Sam exhale and his stance hit your mind too, probably leaned against a wall staring at anything but Dean. “I don't know it's just, she's so different than Jess”

“And that's a bad thing?” Dean asked and you felt a sense of gratitude for him defending you even to Sam. “I'm not saying it's a bad thing but I had this idea of love, my future. With Jess it was getting married after college, a house and kids. Y/N is a hunter through and through, she's comfortable covered in blood and fighting anything that crawls its way out of hell. Jess was soft and gentle and easy going. Y/N is a hurricane, she'll knock you off your feet without even trying”

You felt tears burn your eyes, your mother's voice from years ago hitting your ears. Telling you that you held too much weight in your thighs and stomach, that you were too loud, too weird. That no one would ever love you. The woman had been dead for over a decade and still tormented you. “So you're saying you haven't told Y/N you love her because she's not a little housewife material?” Dean asked and from the edge in his voice you knew you were reading the situation right. Sam didn't love you because you weren't Jess. 

“I don't know” Sam admitted and you turned to walk away but remembered Bobby needed them.

_____________

You took a deep breath and wiped your eyes before schooling your face. You could lie to cops daily,you could make them believe you hadn't heard anything.

You made sure your footsteps were loud and started humming your favorite song under your breath before opening the door. Both men turned to look at you and sure enough, Dean stood next to baby with his arms crossed looking every inch the disappointed dad while Sam was leaning against the wall looking like the teenager who'd been expelled.

You raised your eyebrows “You two good?” Dean nodded slowly then turned his eyes to you “Yeah sweetheart we're good. You need something?” You nodded “Bobby needs a supply run” “We'll be there in a minute” you smiled slightly “Ok”

You tried not to let Sam's words get to you. After all God rest the dead, Jess was gone. You were alive. If he couldn't appreciate what was in front of him that wasn't your shortcoming was it?

Still you found yourself not being quite yourself. You wouldn't sing along with the radio, if you got bloody on a hunt you'd always go straight to the shower and not even let Dean check your injuries first. You tried to be less of a hurricane but knew that was just who you were. You'd always be too much.

@lacilou @fullbelieverheart @prettydeaneyes

[undreaming-fanfiction]

My lovely @henderdads Cass, I unfortunately didn't manage to write a full length fanfiction that you 100% deserve for your birthday, buuuut...I saw that your fav Disney movie is Mulan. What if I gave you a very adjusted Mulan Steddie AU idea with a partial apocalypse, joining the army in place of someone you love, and an incredibly annoying voice in your ear who tells you what to say and do...

Eddie Munson is very much anti-war, thank you. He hates the army, hates the cops, tolerates Chief Hopper because he's cool, but overall authority? Nah, not for him. Eddie would never, ever join something violent and wear camo.

The world doesn't care about his preferences. When interdimensional rifts start popping up left and right and the whole planet is currently battling creatures pouring out of what is called the Upside Down dimension, every family has to send a man to join the war.

Eddie should not be joining anything. After a horrific car crash that nearly cost him his life, half of his torso is nothing but scars, his body is weak from spending months in the hospital, plus his aim is atrocious. But the government said someone needs to go, and his beloved uncle Wayne, the 50-ish man who looks like a nihilist but is secretly all the goodness in the world personified, is gearing up to go and serve his country. That just won't do.

He steals the letter ordering someone from the Munson family to join the Hawkins battlefield and prays that no one will have a chance to check his records. They probably won't, most of the documents for his town got burned to a crisp when a rift opened under the office. And because he knows absolutely nothing about the special Upside Down units he's about to join, he's doing what he knows the best - practicing by roleplaying. He's simulating small talk with "the boys". He's trying cheeky comebacks. And he's incredibly, cringe-inducingly bad at it.

Fortunately for him, or maybe not, he has a guardian angel, except the angel is a 13 year old kid he used to DM for. His name is Dustin and he's ruthless. When he stumbles upon Eddie's "Oh yeah, I used to play the ball in high school. Which ball? Uh...all the ball!", he announces Eddie is useless and gives him a small comm he's developed with his nerdy friends. "Don't worry," he says, "I will guide you through everything."

And Eddie believes it might be a good thing, that it might counterbalance his uncontrollable mouth, at least until the moment that he sees his sergeant, Steve Harrington. The guy is friendly, capable, tough as nails and incredibly, mind-numbingly pretty.

"Say good to meet you, sir!" the voice in his ear whispers.

Eddie opens his mouth to say exactly that. "Wow, aren't you a sight to behold, big boy!" is what ends up leaving it.

Dustin finds out the hard way that the barely functioning gay disaster Eddie Munson is impossible to guide through anything. He picks the lock to the showers after midnight to avoid showing his scars - or if he wanted to be honest, showering very heterosexually next to Steve fucking Harrington, the man who pulled him out of harm's way when Eddie messed up, and then nonchalantly produced a spiked bat and beat the creature preparing to snack on Eddie to a pulp.

"Why did you freeze when Steve was discussing tomorrow's mission?" Dustin hisses at him.

"You're not here, you twerp, you'd freeze too if you saw all that chest hair!"

Many things end up happening during the war of the worlds (cliché, but it works in Eddie's head). Eddie somehow ends up saving Steve's life by backing into a cassette player, turning it on and blasting "Master of Puppets" all over the battlefield, luring the creatures away from Steve's position. He tries to explain that it was an accident, but no one believes him.

Eddie notices that the creatures are invading in certain patterns. When people ask him how come he noticed something no one else did, he just shrugs and says: "it's what I would have done if I was running this as a campaign." He ignores Dustin's excited rambling about how cool the campaign would be and that Eddie definitely has to survive now.

Steve starts respecting him, even enjoying his company. How the hell did that happen. And there's definitely some tension between them, not the angry kind, and Eddie is taking cold showers now. For health reasons, obviously.

And finally, Eddie finds out that even if his aim sucks, he's pretty great with a flamethrower. They become unbeatable as a close range fighter duo with Steve.

Eventually, Eddie's insight combined with some secret government experimentation (they experimented on a kid? If it didn't work out so well, Eddie would have punched them and then set them on fire) end the war. The portals are closed, the remaining creatures gradually eliminated. Steve and Eddie are decorated as heroes and sent home. It's all very quick, very "let's not talk about this whole rift thing possibly being a government fault, nope!", Steve finally finds out about Eddie not being fit to serve and spirals into an absolute meltdown about endangering someone who was never supposed to fight in the first place. Eddie finds himself sitting on a bus home with a medal and a broken heart.

It's only a few days later, after Wayne's crushing hugs, scolding, well hidden tears and Dustin's constant visits, that someone knocks on his and Wayne's trailer door. It's Eddie's former sergeant Steve Harrington, wearing a soft yellow sweater and the cutest shy smile Eddie's ever seen. "Hi. Uh...I know it's difficult to make up for putting you through all that and not verifying your records. But..." he says and shushes Eddie when he tries to accept all the blame and get into a spiral of his own, "...I think a dinner would be a good start to that apology. How does that sound?"

Eddie grins at him and reaches for his hand. "I'd say you've got yourself a date, big boy."

[tangerinesgirl]

Kinktober 2024 - October 31st

Free For All - Costumes

David Collins x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+, explicit

Word count: 2k

Warnings: smut, forced oral (m recieving), gagging, masochism, asphyxiation, kind of public sex?, rough sex, vaginal sex, cream pie, dirty talk, humiliation/degradation, consentual hunter/prey dynamic, squirting, blood, Dark!David, serial killer/murder and alcohol mentions, tiny bit of knife play, touch of mirror/reflection sex

Notes: Happy Halloween everyone! Here's an extra long fic to celebrate! This is an idea I've been playing around with for a while, and finally found a good time to finish it. Thank you for sticking around and for all the lovely comments, and please enjoy some Ghostface!David 👀

Kinktober List || Masterlist || AO3

You asked David to come to the Halloween party about a week ago. It was short notice so you didn't expect him to make an effort. You were just happy having someone to go with.

Working late at the diner meant having to meet him there later on. Luckily your friends house was in walking distance. Unfortunately you were unprepared costume-wise, reusing last years Ouija dress, with some fishnets and boots. You liked how the dress hugged your figure, even if it was a bit too short.

You pull on it absentmindedly entering the house party. Cry Little Sister from The Lost Boys blasting on the speaker system as you walk in, grateful your friend has good taste in music.

Quickly scanning the room, you look for David, but to no avail. You decide to walk to the kitchen area to make yourself known, and grab a drink in the meantime. The only thing left seems to be half drunk bottles of Jäger, but it's better than nothing, so you fill up a red cup with a shot or two.

"So, what's your favourite scary movie?", a voice comes from behind you, inflecting the word 'your' like he's been asking every single person around the room their film preferences.

You recognise that American drawl anywhere. It's David. You smile and turn around.

"Well, the obvious would be Scr-"

You stop your sentence dead in its tracks when you realise what David is wearing. It's a full Ghostface set up. Glittery cloak and everything. He has went all out. David tilts his masked head towards you, inquisitively, waiting for an answer. The grip on your cup accidently makes it snap in half, liquid seeping out of the cracked sides onto the floor, but you're too gobsmacked to care.

You try and stutter out a sentence, until David stops you.

"I wanted to make an effort, and I know Scream is your favourite. I watched it for the first time when I noticed your posters and shirts."

You're flattered, noticing David actually paid attention to your taste in media, but you're still too stunned to speak, imagination in overdrive. David takes the drink away, putting it down on the table. His gloved hands linger on yours, slowly trailing up your arm. Butterflies start forming in your stomach at his touch as he starts trailing his hands down your back.

"I like the dress", his voice is muffled by the mask, but you're still able to pick up on the lust in his tone, hearing every breath he takes.

His hand hovers around the hem of your dress, before squeezing your ass. You and David have always been a bit flirty with each other since he arrived in town, but neither of you actually acted on your desires. You had a feeling this would change tonight.

"But... I think it would look better on your friends bedroom floor". You can somehow hear him smirk as he slowly inflects the sentence, making sure each syllable makes you shiver.

You raise an eyebrow.

"Okay, but... you're keeping yours on", you place your palm on his chest, tugging the cloak gently towards you.

David hesitates slightly, "I may not be gentle".

He liked the costume too, it felt a bit like what he needed in his life; anonymity. Being able to get away with murder. It was an added bonus that you found the costume hot. Part of him thinks he could take it too far. Of course he couldn't tell you, or anyone, what he does for a living.

"Good. Safe word?", you suggest.

David thinks for a bit, trying to come up with a suitably on brand word.

"Popcorn".

You nod, it's a good word. Memorable.

"Or tap out by patting me twice, if you can't speak", he adds, thinking of every possible scenario. You appreciate that.

"I'll give you a thirty second head start", he finishes.

You're excited, a few nerves mixed in for good measure, as the adrenaline starts to kick in as you quickly exit the room, dodging people as you go.

You can't quite think straight, unsure whether to stay in the house or leave. Part of you wants to get caught so staying in the house seemed like the best option... but it was relatively small, making things a bit too easy to find you. In the heat of the moment, you decide to chance outside.

The backyard is bigger than you thought, a greenhouse and a shed blocking the way into the neighbours property.

The shed has seen better days, you didn't really fancy going inside. The greenhouse was missing a few panels but still relatively maintained and cleaned. You notice a few drawers underneath one of the wooden shelves, about waist height. It seemed perfect. Nestling yourself into the corner, you tuck the drawers in front of you.

Your legs start to cramp, it feels like a long time you've been hiding here. Maybe your spot was a bit too difficult. Suddenly you hear a crash in the shed opposite. You instinctively put your hand around your mouth to muffle any noises you might be making.

There's a pause, before you hear an object scraping across the glass of the greenhouse, coming to a stop towards the door. There's three sharp knocks against it.

"Y/N? I know you're in there."

The door opens and shuts. You cautiously decide to sneak a peak through the gap of the two shelves, when you notice him wielding a knife. He wouldn't actually use that on you... right?

You jump out of your skin when David stabs the wooden shelf above your head, the plants on top of it shaking with the impact.

"I changed my mind about your dress... I want to see it ruined and dripping red, as you scream whilst taking my cock."

David has the role down to a T, it's certainly doing things to you. Was it too far with the knife? Maybe, but you trust David and the safe word.

You hear him remove the knife as his footsteps inch towards you. He's so close you can see his boots and cape out the corner of your eye. You're done for. He hesitates a moment, looking around the room...

Until...

...He backs away towards the door.

You're confused. Did he not see you? Why did he leave? After a few moments, you slowly, quietly, try to catch your breath.

When suddenly, a glass panel smashes right next to your head.

You yelp in surprise, as you kick the drawers down to escape. Pins and needles start in your legs as the circulation slowly comes back to them. But you're too slow. David grabs your arms and drags you out of the hole, shards of glass trapped in the metal frame dig into your skin on the way out. You wince, and kick your feet as you try to escape his grip. But it's no good.

David yanks you up onto your feet and pins you against the greenhouse. He quickly draws his knife and holds it against your throat, cold metal tickling your skin. You notice what looks like blood on the blade as he does so. You furrow your eyebrows, he hasn't used it on you? Where did the blood come from? Maybe it was fake.

Your whole body aches and trembles with exhaustion, as you watch David whip his cloak to one side frantically unbuckling his jeans.

The sight of his cock with the costume and mask makes you melt. Your leg instinctively trails up the side of his, desperately wanting him inside you.

David laughs darkly watching you, before lunging towards you, digging the knife closer to your throat.

"You know, I could end your life like that, but look at you", his other hand grabs your pussy, pulling your underwear to one side as he strokes your clit.

"Horny from me throwing you around like a fucking ragdoll."

He takes his hand out of your underwear and lifts up his mask slightly, wanting to taste you. David smacks his lips as he licks his fingers clean of your wetness. You can feel more arousal flood towards your cunt watching him. You're internally screaming for him to fuck you but don't dare say anything with the knife centimeters away from your neck. Even swallowing would be dangerous.

David secures his mask, before pushing down on your shoulders, guiding you to kneel down on the floor. Mud and glass dig into your knees as you look up at him, your tongue starting to swirl around his cock. Before you start to take him fully into your mouth, taking whatever doesn't fit into your hand and thrusting.

David watches you, heavy breathing coming from his mask. He grabs hold of the greenhouse for stability, swearing under his breath. He fucks into your mouth, grabbing hold of your hair, testing your gag reflex as he forces you further down. You pull back and splutter, gasping for breath.

Effortlessly, David pulls you up. He rips a hole in your fishnets and removes your underwear with his knife, slicing the sides off your hips. He grabs and throws the material on the floor before turning you around to face away from him. The cold of the glass presses into your cheek, as his palm pushes against the back of your head.

He wastes no time before sheething his cock inside of you, your saliva and arousal making his entrance easy. You can feel his cloak wrap around your back as he starts thrusting inside you. The greenhouse shakes with the force David is using, as you try to grip hold of it for stability. Your palms steaming up the glass.

He notices you struggling and aggressively takes your hands behind your back, securing them in a grip around your wrists. He resumes filling you up, your pussy throbbing with every harsh thrust.

His hand on your head snakes down around your throat, squeezing the sides and forcing you to look in the glass. You catch the reflection of him in the mask, choking you whilst spearing inside your cunt, which is enough to send you over the edge.

Swearing and moaning loudly, your walls clamp down around him as your orgasm hits you. Hard. Arousal soaking his cloak as your body tenses around him, toes curling inside of your boots. As you catch your breath, trying to moan through his grip on your throat, you steam up the windows. You hear yourself squirt onto the crisp autumnal leaves underneath you.

David smiles to himself, making a mental note of how you soaked his cock while dressed up as a serial killer. Maybe it would be fun admitting to you his true intentions, and seeing you writhe and squirt then. Not bothering you how many people he killed, all that cared was him inside of you.

His pace starts to falter as he chases his own release. The sound of your two bodies slapping against your wetness immediately makes you aroused again. He can feel you gasping for breath underneath his grip as he fucks you senseless. The lack of oxygen making you clench around him. His cock dragging out your release as he takes one last thrust inside you, filling you up with ropes of his cum.

His grip eases off your neck and instead wraps around your chest, forcing himself closer inside you. You feel his seed dripping out of your cunt painfully slowly, down your thighs, soaking your tights and boots. You can feel the mask resting on your head, David huffing and panting out his release. His chest rapidly rising and falling on your back.

You lazily move your head towards his, blissed out, before finding the effort to lick his mask. Starting at the mouth, then up towards his eyes. You feel every bump of the shape as your saliva coats the white plastic.

"Fuck...", David moans watching you.

He's proud of himself for bringing out the feral freak inside of you, deciding he isn't done with you yet. He was going to have a lot of fun with you.

[kairiscorner]

PLSS DO ONE WHERE READER INTRODUCES MIGUEL TO KPOP LIKEEE this man definitely has loona on his workout playlist 💯💯💯🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

HELLO !! ok disclaimer: i'm not really that well-versed in kpop, so i had to ask help from my friends and kinda combined theirs and my opinions together, so sorry if it's jumbled and ooc, i tried :')))

introducing him to kpop – miguel o'hara x reader headcanons and blurbs

"what am i listening to?" he asked you as he looked at you with a perplexed expression as he listened to the beginning of the song russian roulette by red velvet. he didn't take the headphones off, but he didn't fully comprehend what exactly he was listening to. "it's k-pop." "ok, and why does it sound like a cotton candy fever dream?" he asked you as you chuckled aloud, knowing what the lyrics really meant. "it... it's part of the appeal." you said as miguel sighed and sat back as he listened to the song. you swore he swayed his head a little as he listened to the song; and you might've, sort've caught him on camera doing it.

miguel only agreed to listen to kpop because you wouldn't stop bugging him about it, like you and lyla keep streaming newjeans songs (FUCK YEAHHHH) and they just become an earworm for him 😭😭😭

he probably unironically likes supershy and it's his deepest, darkest secret.

why do i see him playing 'attention' while working out what, he blasts that while he's at the gym, ignoring everyone else and........ maybe hoping to get your attention (haha kairi's a shitty comedian)

the song's lyrics and melody are the only things filling his ears right now, the calls and greetings of the spider people in the gym are being tuned out by the song as miguel lifts a couple of weights. peter b walks over with mayday on his chest, the redhead babbling and trying to call for her 'tio miguel' as her father keeps rambling to him about his dad bod and proposing an idea to make a playpen for the spider babies when the spider parents aren't around; but miguel can't even hear either of them--he's too engrossed in the song and hoping that he'd not only go away, but that somebody's attention would be captured from his exercising. hopefully.

when 'paint the town' comes on his playlist while working out HE GETS IN THE ZONE; NOBODY CAN RIP HIM AWAY FROM HIS WEIGHTS

the only reason he likes boy with luv is because of how cute you are when you sing along to it :>

imagine him listening to life goes on while looking back at memories of him and gabriella (•‿•)

he can't stop the tears from falling; he knows it's a kpop song sung by really flashy guys who many people all over the world adore, that it usually wouldn't be something to bring him to tears, but... the message is conflicting with his emotions.

as he watches his daughter come back to life through the videos and photos they had together, though the stinging feeling that she's gone–that he can never hold her nor speak to her again, and can only see her in his dreams–won't leave him alone. the song's lyrics, after he understood the translation of it, made him feel a little achy, but it also helped him feel a little relieved, in a way?

"life goes on..." he read the title aloud as he tasted the salty tears rolling down to his lips as he blinked them back, seeing the distorted image of his daughter as he watched the video of the two of them at a soccer field after her big win. even without her, miguel still lived; life... went on.

though he couldn't understand why he lived when his daughter should've been given a full life ahead of her, he lived. and because he lived, his life will go on, with or without her–but he refuses to live another day without thinking of her his beloved daughter, and... apologizing for being the reason her life didn't continue, her life couldn't go on because his did.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @fictarian @yuridopted0 @arachnoia @meeom @ophanimgold @melovetitties @popeheywardssecretgf

[unflded]

    • ° .   *   ࿐  blasting  SEX  ON  FIRE  by  KINGS  OF  LEON  through  their  airpods  is   𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐍   𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐘  .  oh  ,  you  don’t  know  them ? they’re  the  twenty6   year  old  MUSICIAN  who  just  went  viral  for the headline :  TROUBLED  SONGSTER  CAUGHT  SULKING  BEHIND  THE  SCENES  WITH  ON-AND-OFF  EX  AT  THEIR  GO  -  TO  DINNER  SPOT  —  WHEN  WILL  THEY  LEARN  HE  CAN’T  BE  TRUSTED  ?   .  yup  ,  the  one  that  drives  a  FERRARI  348  TS  .  i  hear  they’re  pretty  VISIONARY  ,  but  others  have  claimed  that  they’re  quite  MOROSE  .  that  makes  sense  ,  considering  they’re  often  labeled  as  the  black  hole   .

* 𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 .

full name: stefan healey. nickname(s): stef, steffy, stefano. age: twenty6. gender: cis man. sexuality: tbd. zodiac: gemini. occupation: musician— guitarist + singer/songwriter. career claim: role model <3

* 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 .

he   grew   up   in   rural   appalachia,   a   west   virginia   town   with   a   single   school   for   the   entire   small   sleepy   grove   of   300.   father   a   logger,   mother   a   tailor,   the   youngest   of   4   in   a   family   torn   apart   by   tumultuous   unpredictability.   their   town   didn’t   get   internet   until   stefan   was   about   9,   before   which   he   would   read   every   book   available   in   the   town’s   run   -   down   library.   once   they   got   their   first   touch   of   the   outside   world,   the   boy,   born   into   poverty   yet   knowing   there   is   more   available,   became   obsessed   with   the   potential   he   knew   he   possessed   that   would   guide   him   out   of   the   mountain   range   and   into   the   light. stefan   became   obsessed   with   music,   teaching   himself   to   play   guitar   and   getting   his   hands   on   any   old   records   he   could   in   order   to   practice.   his   dad’s   old   guitar,   gone   untouched   for   years   as   he   now   preferred   to   wind   down   by   drinking   himself   blind,   became   stefan’s   best   friend—   and   the   internet,   to   which   he’d   post   videos   of   himself   playing   any   and   everything,   became   his   biggest   fan.   he   shunned   the   real   world,   obsessing   over   posting   daily,   knowing   mastery   of   the   thing   he   loves   most   would   be   his   best   ticket   out   of   a   life   where   he’d   be   relegated   to   chopping   trees   or   mining   for   the   rest   of   his   life. he’s   discovered   online   and   sent   an   email   by   a   talent   scout   for   a   boarding   school   in   new   york   for   the   arts   and   he   doesn’t   think   twice   before   stealing   his   brother’s   bike   to   make   the   miles-long   trek   out   to   the   nearest   bus   station,   guitar   case   on   his   back   and   stolen   cash   in   his   pocket.   his   audition   changes   his   life,   and   by   the   age   of   14,   it’s   the   last   his   west   virginia   town   sees   of   him.    new   york   is   not   kind,   but   stefan   is   relentless   in   his   pursuit   of   greatness,   and   spends   sleepless   nights   obsessing   over   becoming   the   best.   of   his   class,   of   his   grade,   of   his   craft   altogether.   he   gets   signed   to   a   to   go   touring   as   a   guitarist   for   major   pop   stars   by   the   age   of   17,   and   by   his   19th   birthday,   he   has   taken   to   singing   to   release   his   first   album   as   a   solo   artist.   his   success   takes   off   overnight,   offering   with   it   an   escape   for   the   backwoods   boy   to   leave   behind   the   life   that   nearly   trapped   him   in   mediocrity.

* 𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.

 stefan,   brooding,   sulking,   yet   sharp   -   eyed   and   singular   in   his   focus,   has   an   incurable   case   of   being   insatiable   at   heart,   that   taints   everything   he   does.   through   everything,   a   shadow   is   cast   as   he   wonders   to   himself   if   he   can   do   more,   if   he   can   get   more   out   of   it,   if   he   can   push   further.   alive   once   and   believing   this   is   his   only   lifetime   to   do   so,   he   ruins   more   than   he   starts   through   his   fear   of   missing   out.   though   he   carries   himself   with   a   cat   -   like   air   of   non   -   chalance,   there’s   a   visible   shadow   he   casts   wherever   he   touches,   someone   who   can’t   ever   get   enough   of   the   life   he   lives   and   makes   it   very   clear   that   he   would   sooner   let   things   implode   than   tie   himself   to   something   half   -   tried.   blunt,   cantankerous,   yet   never   willing   to   commit   to   a   full   fight,   stefan   picks   at   holes   in   armor   and   logic   until   he’s   unraveled   the   whole   thing.   he’s   self   -   aware   and   painfully   straightforward   about   what   awaits   anyone   who   seeks   entering   his   circle,   perhaps   somewhat   refreshingly   negative   in   a   world   of   insincerity   that   surrounds   the   glitz   and   glam.

* 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

former bandmates: on-and-off exes: people he records guitar for: muses for his music: close friends: 1-3 inner circle: friends from music school in NYC:

[ifyouretooshysblog]

I rewatched Magic Mike earlier and it led to this…I’m feral.

18+ NSFW! Steddie x Reader thot below

Imagine this… modern Eddie and Steve are Magic Mike style male strippers at a club in Indianapolis. They do the provocative dances on stage and sometimes even dress in costumes. They also do private dances for the right price. Sometimes they do solo work of course, but more often than not they end up performing together.

You had just gone through a really tough break up, so your friends decided to drag you out of bed to have a night out on the town. After bar-hopping for a couple hours you guys ended up at a strip club. It is a pretty diverse club; there are male and female performers of all different sizes and many sexualities seem to be explored. You are pretty tipsy at this point and are having a blast just talking to your friends and looking at the bright lights and half naked bodies in the room.

All of a sudden you could hear the faint sound of police sirens and the lights in the club turn red and blue. At first you are confused and are about to make a run for it thinking that the cops were actually there, when all of a sudden you see a couple of men chasing each other. They make their way up to the main stage where you get a better view. The man being chased has a full head of long, curly, dark hair. He is wearing a leather jacket and a black t-shirt. You blush as you look down and realize that he’s only wearing black boxers on his lower half. His pale legs are littered with a few tattoos, but unfortunately you aren’t close enough to tell what they are. Your eyes look over to the man chasing him and he is equally as hot, but in a different way. He is in a dark blue (and obviously fake) police officer uniform. His brown hair looks soft and like he had just spent the last hour in the back room styling it. The final touches to his costume were a pair of sunglasses and a stick-on handlebar mustache.

As they ran onto the stage, the “cop” eventually catches up to the “crook” and tackles him to the ground, taking his leather jacket off of him in the process. The cop climbs on top of the others back, using some flimsy handcuffs to restrain him. He pulls the man up by his hair gently so that he is on his knees in front of the audience. The cop scolds him for being such a bad boy and then rips his shirt off. The crowd goes wild for it and so do you. The man being scolded only scoffs and reaches up to rip the other man’s fake mustache off of his face. It was such a hilarious act that you couldn’t help but laugh harder than you have in a long time. Music starts playing and they begin dancing. The dance between them is sensual, aggressive, and honestly enchanting. You know that they have taken on the role of enemies for the performance, but you can also tell that that’s all it is to them: a performance. Even from the point when they first came on stage they treated each other with so much hidden respect and care and it continued on through their whole time on stage.

After they were done with their set you stood up and cheered as loud as you could. One of your friends offered to go give them the money as they were coming off of the stage and you gave her plenty to give to them for their part in your sexual awakening. She returned with a smirk on her face, which you should’ve known better to brush off. About ten minutes later one of the security members comes up to you to escort you into one of the rooms for a private dance. You look at your friend in shock and she tells you to have fun. And have fun you did.

You sat on the couch in the room for a couple minutes by yourself. You didn’t know for sure if either of the two men you had been drooling over earlier were going to be the ones giving you the private dance, but you hoped so. The noise of the music in the club becoming slightly more audible turned your attention to the door. Both of the men from earlier were now in the room with you. Suddenly you felt shy. Both of them only had tight boxers on that left very little to the imagination.

They decided to give you some space at first by standing in the middle of the room. You took the opportunity to admire both of their bodies as they stood in silence for a moment. Finally, the one with chest hair that narrowed all the way down to his naval spoke up.

“Hey pretty girl, we heard you were a big fan of our show out there.”

You blushed and looked into his eyes. “Of course…You guys are just so…” You tried to find the words to describe them.

“Sexy? Hot? Mesmerizing?” The other man asked bashfully taking a step towards you.

“All of the above.” You agreed.

They shared a look and a smirk that told you that the next fifteen minutes was going to feel like five hours.

“Well as much as me and Kas here would love to keep hearing your sexy voice, we are on a time restraint. Now usually touching isn’t allowed on your end, but I don’t think we have enough self control to stop a pretty little thing like you from touching us.”

The man he referred to as Kas went over to a speaker and hit play causing some soft, sultry music to play from it before they both came close to you.

“One more question and my lips are sealed.” You spoke looking up at the two men. They both raised their eyebrows waiting for your burning question.

“Is your name really Kas?” You asked the dark-haired one.

He let out a deep chuckle before leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours. You stared deep into his eyes waiting for his answer with anticipation.

“I’m afraid not sweetheart, it’s just my stripper name. Don’t worry though. If you’re good for us maybe you’ll find out what my name really is.”

All that you could do was nod. A silent agreement that you’d do anything to be good for them. That was their cue to begin. At first you let them just run their hands against your skin. Both of them were so close that you could feel their breath on your body and you couldn’t help but clench your legs. The way they were touching you was just so erotic. The cop didn’t seem to like that though, because soon after he pulled your legs apart and slowly started grinding his hips into yours. Kas was by your side on the couch, lightly rubbing your shoulders and watching intently. You could feel them both start to harden against you and at that point you couldn’t help but break the no touching rule. One arm wrapped around the man on top of you, pulling him closer and needing to feel him on top of you. The other hand lightly grabbed onto the hair of the man that was now softly kissing your neck. The rest of the time consisted of all three of you exploring each others bodies instead of dancing. Nothing went past grinding, light touches, and soft moans. It made you even needier when you were pulled out of your trance by a whisper in your ear.

“Time’s up sweetheart.”

As the timer went off on the clock in the room, both men removed themselves from the couch. You looked up at them with doe-eyes as they got ready to leave.

“Don’t look at me like that honey, I’m trying to get rid of this!” The man with silky hair said, pointing down at his very big and very visible erection.

You laughed softly before getting up from the couch.

“Thank you guys. I really needed this tonight.”

“It’s our pleasure, really. Oh before we go, here’s this.” Kas said before handing you a napkin, most likely from the bar in the club.

They both hastily gave you kisses on the cheek before exiting the room as quickly as they came. You were disappointed to see them go, but it didn’t last long as you looked down and read the napkin.

If you ever need anyone to get in trouble with

XXX-XXX-XXXX Eddie

If you ever need someone to come bail you out

XXX-XXX-XXXX Steve

You shoved the napkin in your pocket and chuckled to yourself. These boys were going to be a lot of trouble, but maybe they’re exactly what you need.

Okay…I’m going to bed now 😂 Hope you enjoyed!

[yohohonabottle]

When the big fish is away, the smaller meaner ones come out to play.

🖋️ When pirates were rampant in the Whispers' early days, the sirens fed on the sunken ships, the remains of drowned and the seawolves themselves. This continued while the gang fought against the Dead Tide and Water Wights, resulting in more bodies. Merfolk became like their carnivorous scavenger cousins due to waters getting increasingly polluted and plants/fish are full of trash. With the wars over and no more bodies, the smaller, meaner fish turned to hunting.

🎧 Song recommendation: -> Elogia cinerosa // slowed + reverb

Rain pelts down on the streets and piers of Rustport, thunder rumbling and booming. Peaceful quiet and light misty fog. ..And then a clear mesmerizing voice slithers in.

A homeless man from the slums goes missing.

Then some thugs.

Then a child.

The voice slowly gets joined by more and more. Until it grows to a hypnotic choir, flowing through the streets. Fishermen and women disappear.

Like rats from the story of the Piper, the people trickle down to the docks, lower district piers and out the gates, to the shores. Wrapped up in the gentle melody, lulled into deep slumber. None see the danger they walk into or the jaws waiting behind the angelic song. It doesn't matter who you are-- From the Whispers or the Wights, young or old, rich, poor, with a family or without, orphan or not, man or woman. The same fate comes regardless. A watery grave.

The Golden Guest was shut under tight lock-down as soon the innkeeper caught onto what's happening. No guest could get out, those unlucky to not make it inside getting swept into the lullaby.

The Carmine Whispers' leader didn't need to be told that something is wrong. The muffled, faintly buzzing music from outside the manor's window is enough, all too familiar. The haunting calls of those sea-banshees, plague her nightmares still to this day, next to watching her sister fall into the waters to her death. Nara...she was always so fascinated by those devils. Almost died to their songs when they were children living on the streets.

"I want to see them, Sonja! Please big sister! Their songs are so cool!"- Sonja shuts down the memory. 

No. Rustport is under siege, the sirens must be stopped. Before more people die.

Meanwhile on the other side, nestled in the tropical forest out of town--Brineville suffers. As if those blasted Water Wights robbing them isn't enough. Now this!

Would it have been different if Tritonus was still alive? Would the god of the waves been able to help? --Sinbad has no time to dwell on such questions, busy dashing back and forth to warn or shepherd his people to safety. Two families have already went back home and locked themselves up. Lucy was scared but put on a brave face, Blanca wasn't difficult to convince- Both widows heeding his warnings on the condition he promises to stay safe. Tasha was a different story, digging her heels in the dirt like a stubborn mule and refusing to go down without a fight. Even less leave him to fend off those banshees alone.

In the end, the son had no other choice but to grab her under the arms, hauling his thrashing angry foster mam to her house. He's always found her spitfire spirit both awe-inspiring, and irritating. Her defiant unwillingness to relent reckless. I really don't wanna do this. 

But Tash's safety comes first, like all the others'. If a bit of roughhousing means she lives-- Then be it.

—"Lock up, and don't come out. No matter what, stay inside until the singing stops." -The scruff man gives his mother a stern look after pushing her inside. No arguments, no negotiations.

Tasha glares back in angered determination as she gets to her feet, waving a fist at him. Scared for her kid.

—"Kiddo, I'm not letting you fight those sea-devils alone! I'll kick them to the hell they crawled out from, you hear? No way I'm gonna sit here and watch my boy die!" The cannon shots from the Century Forge sound in the distance, the workshop's engineer firing at the 'dames' to drive them away. Disrupt their hypnotic singing.

Unable to look the widow in the eye anymore, with a sigh Sinbad slams the door of the house and locks it up from the outside swiftly.

"Sinbad! Hey! Let me out!" Ignores the frantic banging on the other side, the woman's voice going from rough with anger to shaky. "Sinbad!" I'm sorry, mama. I can't let you stay outside. For your own sake. The banging persists, as Death's choir sings the soothing lullaby.

A sonorous, serene voice drifts, his worries... slowly melting away, tenderly swept by a wave. The orphan forces his legs to keep walking forward, towards the forge. The town. Tell Hugin, Sonja, brainstorm a plan to stop this. The melody settles into his mind, flows into his subconscious, seeps into his very bones.

It's getting harder to stay on-track and ignore the waves' call. Stay away from the water..

Where was I going...? The adrenaline is gone, only peaceful calm. No need to hurry or fuss over tomorrow. It'll be alright. The village is okay, no more raids. Why keep chasing after money? They're not needed anymore so much. No need to be a one-man army anymore.

Peace. Finally.

Why not stop for a little, listen to the beautiful music? Go for a swim? The waters are so clear tonight.. It's been so long since I last raced with my old man....

Yes, a swim would be nice.

The grainy, wet, sand softly crunches under his boots and tidal waves wash over the leather.

A tranquil smile plays on the Seaside savant's rugged features, sauntering closer to the cold water--Unperturbed by the hum of thunder overhead. The downpour soaking his hair and tattered clothes, or the boom of cannon-fire so very distant. Curiously follows the tug instead, wading deeper into the sea until it's to his waist, to his chest.. to his neck.

Come to me

Taking a deep breath, Sinbad dives into the depths.

[normal-thoughts-official]

Window to the Soul

Wyll's story, growth, and mental health issues as seen from his own eyes. Literally.

Written for @thekindredcollective's Wyllstravaganza prompt 13: Redemption.

WARNING: This story deals with Wyll's issues of depersonalization, particularly with his tendency to refer to himself as "the Blade" instead of a person. Paired with his line about how he wanted MC to know him as the Blade and not Wyll Ravengard, I interpret this tendency as one of the many ways in which Wyll dehumanizes himself (like how no one can ever be collateral damage instead of himself, how he cares so deeply about everyone except himself, etc), by seeing himself as a hero figure and an object rather than a person. So, there is one excerpt in which Wyll refers to himself as "the blade" and uses the word "it" to refer to himself. To be clear, my intent here is to show how bad his mental state is at that point, because Wyll deserves better, NOT to dehumanize him myself. But I'm leaving a warning if it's a trigger for anyone, especially Black people who might be triggered by seeing a Black character refer to himself that way. This particular excerpt will be marked by a "~" instead of the normal "*"s of the rest, in case anyone wants to skip it.

The boy with stars in his eyes ran across the shore, successful as always in his eternal mission to find wonder in the world. “Papa, papa!” he said, “I saw a mermaid!”.

In every corner, a new discovery lit them further up. Mermaids. Shells. The sea, the breeze. Each greeted with a new exclamation and a wider smile, as he met his very first love: the world, and his city.

*

The son with scars over his eyes clawed at his own throat, trying to speak past the sounds of his own choking. He had tried everything. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t write, couldn’t show him. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t stop crying.

Couldn’t do anything other than nod and obey when he heard the most fateful word of his life.

“Go.”

*

The Blade of Frontiers, with fire in his eyes, slashed his way across the Sword Coast, getting rid of devils, wrongdoers, and the unjust. He delighted in seeing towns get a little livelier and a little better when he left than they had been before he arrived, and savored the relief he felt at seeing that he was still worthy of some people’s trust.

The world was still full of wonders, even if most of them weren’t for him.

*

The Blade, dull in the eyes, felt himself at odds with the sharpness of his blade. He still didn’t regret it, but - so much has been lost. He no longer had a city. A family. Friends. Dance partners. Sometimes, it felt like everything that made him human had been stolen away.

But if he wasn’t human, what was he? He refused to be a fiend.

The answer was glaringly obvious. Right there in his name - for he no longer had the right to call himself by the name his father gave him, so Blade of Frontiers would have to do.

If he couldn’t be himself again, a weapon he’d become.

~

The blade, with a tracker for an eye, never stayed. Its care, like its blasts, was best delivered from a distance. Anything that caught its eye could catch hers, and it’d never be forgiven if it hurt those it was meant to protect, just because it wanted to feel a comforting touch again.

It blasted, and cleaved, and slashed, and bled.

And then it left.

~

The farce with a tadpole in his eye couldn’t help but stay in the Grove. He was helping, he reasoned. They needed help.

Besides, soon it wouldn’t matter anyway. The tadpole was a death sentence, and a quick one, too. He didn’t risk staying, not really. So he could, maybe, have a place to come back to for the last days of his life. Children to play with, to teach. One last group of people to ensure the safety of, while he hunted down his new mark and prepared to die.

He just had to make sure he’d be far away from the Grove before he officially became an “it” again.

*

The warlock with kindness in his eyes sheathed his blade. He would not hurt those he was meant to protect. If that meant he would be the one hurt instead, so be it.

He always liked the idea of being a shield better than a blade, anyway.

*

The monster with the Hells in his eye stayed at the edge of the party, observing the piece of the sea that touched their little camp.

It was still just as wonderful as the first time, even if a lot more lonely.

*

“I won’t pester you for details, but believe me, I will be there by your side, whatever comes.”

“I’m glad you saw me for who I am. And - and I think I can see you for who you really are, too. A hero.”

“You may look like a devil, but you’re one of the most noble men I’ve ever met.”

And Wyll, with tears in his eyes, for once felt right.

[7dcvils]

(   taylor zakhar perez  .  cis-male  .  he/him  )       —       blasting blueby  billie eilish  down  main  street  we’ve  spotted  dante kenzevic guerrero  sporting  their  family crest ring.  the  thirty-one  year  old  shape-shifter  who’s  been  in  town  for  a year  often  can  be  seen  keeping to themselves, trying to figure out what’s next in their life, running away from old ghosts,  or  working  as  unemployed .  people  say  they  display  charming  and  cold traits,  but  we  rather  trust  their  vibes:  someone who used to be someone, a son who’s fathers backlogged dreams were too much, cigarette smoke over an open window.  also,  we’ve  heard  they  love  being able to be their true self and form !   aren’t  they  fascinating ?   

full name:  dante kenzevic guerrero nickname(s): none name meaning: steadfast, enduring age:  thirty-one date of birth:  august 1st place of birth: mexico city, mexico but also grew up in zagreb, croatia ( thanks divorce ) current location: portum gender: cis-male pronouns: he/him sexuality: gay occupation: unemployed spoken languages: spanish, croatian, english voiceclaim: taylor zakhar perez

tw: neglectful parents, self destruction, death of a sibling

his mother used to say that they were cursed with birthing girls. of course, girls were fine, but it wasn’t a rightful heir, in his mother and grandmothers and all the other mothers before that. so, when dante is born on a hot summer night sylvie swears that the curse has been lifted. 

dante is adored, spoiled, raised in the finest of homes, his parties are lavish and he would never know what it was like to go to bed hungry or unloved.

when he gets of age, he turns into a black panther. beautiful, vain, and destructive. 

his relationship with his father is pure business, if he wanted love he would get it from his mother. all of that changes the day that his little brother is born. if there was anyone that taught him how to love it would be his brother. 

dante hadn’t been born heartless. his mother said that the gods had blessed her with two boys. 

they would grow up together causing trouble. dante would get fifteen good years with his brother, but only fifteen. the day that his brother shifts into a black panther like dante, they go out. 

only dante makes it back alive. no one ever gets the story straight of how his brother died, and his mother never really forgives dante. the story would die with him. no one would ever know how dante tried to protect him. 

the event makes him cruel, and it makes him spiral into self destructive down fall. 

it didn’t seem fair that he only got fourteen years with him, and he has his other half siblings but he didn’t live with them full time. things change, and eventually dante would move in with his father and follow in his footsteps of that craving for power and to never feel weak like that again. 

‘you are very beautiful, but there’s something inside of you that is rotten,’ his aunt tells him this at one of his mother’s galas, the details are foggy, but he remembers the way that his aunt played with his hair, tucking it behind his ear the way that his mother used to. 

life continues, dante makes a spectacle of himself, and fucks up more times that he can count, but his thought process goes: i’m rich enough to make it all go away. 

‘you are very beautiful but there’s something inside of you that is rotten,’ is what he hears for the next half a century. 

dante hosts his own parties and galas, he thinks that maybe it’s all that he’s good for. the worst part is, he thinks that it’s actually true. 

and then, dante vanishes and finds portum. leaving the life that he grew up in, no longer wanting to be under his fathers thumb or disappointment in his mother’s eyes. he doesn’t know who he is, but he’s wanting to find out now no longer under any watchful eye.

headcanons:

he comes from a family of felines, though not all of them are the same feline species, he often wonders why it is that him and his brother turned one in the same. he thinks that it's a curse. it doesn't seem fair to have someone as pure hearted as his brother only for it to be taken away. he hates his form now because all he can see is what his brother will never be.

family was very wealthy and while dante grew up in nepotism he did have some achievements before coming to portum. he lives a very comfortable life but a very lonely one. its giving the great gatsby of him holding parties but there's no one on the other end, though he wishes.

lonely little trash boy tbh someone needs to scrunch his neck !!!

[nellie-elizabeth]

Writing Patterns

Rules: Share the opening of your last ten published works or as many as you are able to see if there are any patterns!

I was tagged by @ajna-eye-cogitations, thank you!!

[A note that when I picked the last 10 published, I skipped over all my short one-shot collection fics that I've been posting for years now, since those are cases where each chapter is its own individual story. So I just stuck to stuff outside of that!]

where the real road lies

Grief doesn’t feel like anything. Or— well, it feels like a lot of things, but nothing you can pin down. Maybe it’s one of those human experiences that can only be talked about in metaphor. Like, it feels as if my heart’s being ripped out of my chest, or it feels as if someone’s scooped me out, left me hollow, plunged my very soul into darkness. It feels as if, as if, as if.

(can't) get back again

It’s not a decision either of them is actually making. That’s what Michael tells himself when it happens for the first time, that he didn’t decide and Alex didn’t decide and in fact fighting the inevitability of it would only be adding more pain into a world already saturated with suffering.

small town halloween night

Maria gets home before Rosa, on Halloween night. They’d both picked up shifts for their parents, Maria at the bar and Rosa at the diner. It’s not the worst shift Maria’s ever worked, but she can’t help but feel a little melancholy on her drive home. A whole night of watching people her age, people she went to school with, cluster together with their friends, doing cheap shots... A year ago, that had been her. A year ago, dressed up with her skin out, doing shots in her friends’ kitchen, laughing at the movies and getting rice in her hair.

tell me that we belong together

September 2011 Michael always gets a little nostalgic about Roswell right before leaving it behind for a while. School’s starting in just a couple days, and that means saying a temporary goodbye to mornings like this one, lounging in their favorite booth at the Crashdown, the sounds of Arturo making their breakfasts carrying through from the kitchen, jukebox playing some song Michael only recognizes because he’s heard it playing in this very diner countless times over the years. They have their local haunts in Albuquerque by now, but he’ll always be a hometown boy at heart, and for better or worse, this is his hometown.

a work of fine art

Quentin Coldwater has fuzzy arms. It’s one of the first things Eliot notices about him as his volunteer life model settles down on the couch, crossing said arms across his chest in a nervous, nearly defensive move. It’s like he’s trying to fold his body into an origami box so all the outside parts will be on the inside, safe from Eliot’s eyes. But looking at the man in front of him is rather the point, so Eliot looks his fill, careful to catalogue every detail, despite how he can practically feel the waves of energy coming off of Quentin’s body, the frozen full-body cringe as he attempts to deflect the attention. Eliot indulges in it, keeping his face carefully neutral instead of giving in to the smile building up inside of him at the rather lovely display. Squirmy, awkward, cute naked boy, and Eliot gets to stare at him for a full uninterrupted evening. It must be his birthday.

tales from a bookshop

The bookshop has always been something of a sacred space for Crowley. Scratch that— not sacred, certainly not sacred, who the hell said sacred, honestly. And no more is it Hell’s cosmic opposite, profane, it’s only that— well, blast it, it’s only that A.Z. Fell & Co. booksellers has always been an important place for Crowley. Significant. Precious, maybe, though even the taste of such a word makes him want to scream profanities at someone who doesn’t deserve it, just to get the tickle out the back of his throat.

Shelter

The first thing Quentin did most mornings was locate the most excitable, energy-filled dog he could find in the kennels, and take the little terror out for a brisk, damp jog. Damp, because the Seattle air always seemed to be damp no matter the temperature. Brisk, because Quentin was not a jogger and a solid twenty minutes was usually as much as the lucky canine in question was likely to get out of him. He did this because he was usually the first person to arrive at work and he didn’t feel like making awkward chit chat with the night shift people, and also because it seemed a kindness: by the time his bosses Margo and Fen had shown up after their leisurely morning coffee routine, the most excitable of their furry residents had already had some of their energy burned away by Quentin’s efforts.

under the desert sky

Beyond basic necessities, the items Alex brings with him on their trek to the Grand Canyon are a fully stocked iPod, car charger, and a stitch-bound notebook slipped into the front pocket of his backpack. Michael brings his restored Nikon FM 35mm and six rolls of film.

the lengths that i would go to

Summer 2010 It’s early, so early that the sun isn’t up, the air around him still and quiet. Alex is awake, and for a second he doesn’t quite know why. His body is conditioned to wake early each morning, but this is something different. There’s a strange awareness, where paranoia meets familiarity. Alex knows, as consciousness filters into his brain, that there’s someone else in the room with him. He also knows, without having to open his eyes, that there is no threat, because it’s Michael. The bed shifts, and Alex blinks into the dim light, looking down to see Michael crawling up the bed towards him.

it might change my memory

June 2022 It’s Bonnie, of all people, who calms everybody down. Not Isobel with her power to mentally soothe, or Dallas with his preacher training and inviting sensibility. Not Liz with her practical, scientific mindset, or Michael, the one person in this room who theoretically has all the pieces of the puzzle and actually has a chance of knowing what the fuck is going on. It’s Bonnie who cuts through the excited, confused, unintelligible babble and says, quite loudly for such a small woman: “Okay! Seems like we have a situation! Everyone should sit down. I’ll make tea.”

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

Wow, okay, this was really interesting to see! It looks like a very common approach for me is "short, catchy sentence" followed by longer paragraph expounding on it. Like -- "Grief doesn’t feel like anything." or "The bookshop has always been something of a sacred space for Crowley." or "Quentin Coldwater has fuzzy arms." This is true across all the fandoms I write in!

It's crazy that only one of these ten examples has any dialogue in it at all, because I tend to think my dialogue skills are really sharp! I should start more stories off with it lol.

Tagging whoever writes and wants to participate! @portraitofemmy, @prettyboysdontlookatexplosions, @awildwickedslip, @spiders-hth-is-an-outlier, @r-dtoblack

[enchantedchocolatebars]

The Story of Triton later renamed Leon. He lived in the small town Coral Reef, with his husband Kenneth and adorable daughter Kara.

Leon is considered beautiful/handsome in-universe, has a very cheerful personality (due to him and Mindy inheriting their mother's generous and loving traits). He's strong, smart, and just like Mindy he doesn't approve Neptune's method ''a person with a grand physical appearance is worthy."

Unfortunately he had to put with Neptune's jerkiness growing up. When he was 10, he loved to sketch jellyfish and enjoyed seeing the fishes play sports, only for Neptune to make a jerk move because "mortals are fun to mess with."

One time when he was 12 he witnessed, Neptune had discovered someone has pulled the golden tennis racket. (causing Triton to show another unpleasant look, Because Neptune said "mortal games aren't worthy of our time)." When Neptune sees it was a clown fish (who just happened to take pictures with his family, and happened to see the golden tennis racket at the park). He insults and belittles the clown fish, refuses to believe he is worthy even after being shown photographic evidence of him pulling the tennis racket out, going as far as trying to make up excuses as why he is not fully qualified, blasts another fish into ash for standing up for the clown fish, rubs his (apparent) victory in the clown fish face, and even after conceding, he refuses to take no for an answer and forces that the clown fish to join him in Atlantis by making him a god. Of course, Amy arrived the last minute allowing the clown fish to make his decision since he won. When he says "no" she lets him and his family leave peacefully.

Neptune was angered at Amy for meddling, but she points out he was doomed to lose to the clown fish from the start. Since the whole reason he created the Golden Tennis Racket was so he could find someone playing tennis for him. If Neptune was able to play tennis perfectly, he wouldn't have created the Golden Tennis Racket in the first place. Hearing Amy's roast made Triton and other fishes chuckled.

As time went on Triton continued his studies and feels nervous when he's around boys. When he was in high school, he told his mom that he's gay, Amy, shows she still loves Triton no matter what. When it was Triton's high school graduation, he revealed that he's following his own path and is giving the throne to his younger sister Mindy. Neptune got really angry he ordered everyone to leave so he can speak with Triton alone.

He demanded an explanation on what the nonsense he heard his son just said. Triton explained that he wants to follow his own path, and that becoming the next king, has always been Neptune's dream, not his. And that he's also gay.

Neptune got super angry, he threatened to disown him and told him he would be a failure in life unless he "fixed himself." Neptune turned to see if Amy agreed with him, but much to his shock Amy has already known about Triton's love life.

This lead to an arguement between Neptune and Amy. During their arguement Neptune angrily declared that he never had a son, he won't ever have raised someone this weak to be his son!!!

This caused Amy to slap Neptune really hard, saying she wants a divorce but Mindy, can stay with you as long we get to see her in the weekends or holidays. Still bitter, Neptune agreed just as long Mindy doesn't mention her or Triton. The next day, their was a carriage full of luggage and Amy giving her crown to the squire. Triton asked Mindy if she was sure she doesn't want to come with them. Mindy reassured her she'll visit and contact them when she can, and has to make sure Neptune doesn't spend his days executing people over the littlest things. The 3 of them hug and waved bye.

Triton (who was somewhere in his 20s, back then) changed his name to Leon (becuase when he was Triton it reminded him of the stress and pressure). He met a handsome merman (Kenneth) from his work, they start of as mutuals, to good friends, to boyfriends, and finally becoming a lovely couple. They got married, and adopted a beautiful mermaid girl (Kara).

what do u think? (F.Y.I, Leon and Mindy have a healthier family relationship in their mums (Amy and Aqua) side of the family).

I like it! :)

I enjoyed reading about Triton's (now Leon's) detailed background and it's great that his moms and Mindy are so supportive of him. 💕