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jinxed-newyork · 2 days ago

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SMOKE & FOG

0.2 The Last Drop

pairing: jinx x reader (romantic), reader x Isha (siblings), reader x Sevika (platonic)

synopsis: Your injury has led you to the one person you swore you could never trust again. A traitor who has never brought you any good and only harm decides to patch you up but with any good deed comes a price. The only question is will this lead to your sister or just more terror?

word count: 4.8k

warnings: unreliable narrator (reader), morally gray actions from narrator (reader), villainous activity, murder, oppression, mistreatment, blood & gore, hurt/comfort, drugs & drug use, PTSD, canon violence, suggestive themes, angst, (arcane season 2) spoilers, cursing, fighting, mental illnesses, degrading language towards characters and about characters, indirect Maddie Nolan slander, Caitlyn Kiramman slander

A/N ; most underlined things have a song that go with them that I highly reccommend you listen to , to get the feel/vibe of what's happening ! the same thing applies for the first chapter but I forgot to tell you . also you guys should send me requests for other things you wanna see me write about while you're waiting on a new chapter.

My legs could only carry me so far, my stomach felt like my insides were seconds away from spilling out. The blood dribbling down my arm made a path no matter where I went, it was sickening, like a retelling of my crimes even though I couldn't remember them. I could hear their cries and screams in the back of my head, but not what led up to them. Grown men’s cries of pain and sorrow wasn’t something that I was used to, I was always the one in pain, the one being kicked into the ground and abused until that got their sick fill of my defeat. I couldn’t cough up any blood, the injury wasn’t deep enough to ruin me but it still felt like it was. I was so worried about Isha but I could feel my body starting to slow, I could feel myself losing it ever so slowly, I went to the only place that I could find. The Last Drop.

This used to be a place of solace and safety, one ran by Vander, the symbol of peace in this lowly town, no matter what he would always be able to cheer you up and now it was overrun by Silco’s old men however one of them was my saving grace. “Sevika!” A tortured cry escaped my throat along with her name. She had to be here, I couldn't hold myself up any longer so she said had to be here. “SEVIKA!” My voice cracked, every octave I never thought possible, my body fell from the wall, the only strength I had was to hold my injury from bleeding anymore.

A gold and brown boot fell into my vision but I couldn’t even lift my head up for a simple greeting, instead I fell flat on my face, I felt warm– is this what dying truly is? It’s so lifeless, my life didn’t flash before my eyes, I didn’t regret every decision I’ve ever made or see some bright light, I was wondering who was gonna take care of Isha while I was gone. Who was gonna make sure you ate every night and made sure she got home in one piece, who was gonna keep her away from Smeech while I couldn't, who was going to replace me because I was too weak to stay alive and help.

My eyes opened drearily, the first thing gracing my vision was an unpeeled orange. Oranges are actually my favorite fruit, one of the only good things that people stole from topsiders besides equipment was fresh fruit. Everything in the underground was just a remake of something from topsiders, food that was already on someone else’s plate, clothes that were already on someone else’s back but fresh fruit was the one thing we had and it was delicious. Sure it wasn’t as great as sugary treats or drinks that I was sure all the topsider brats got to have on a daily basis but it meant something.

My hands immediately reached for it, splitting it open down the middle and taking a piece off of the side before letting it into my mouth. This could have been poisoned but I would have died a happy person, because who gives a shit? Within a moment of tasting the sweetness of the fruit, reality hit me like a train– I was bleeding out in the middle of the Last Drop and now I’m.. where the hell am I? This wasn’t the Last Drop, or the back rooms where Vi, Powder and little man used to be, I envied them, every kid in Zaun did. Those little shits got away with murder and Vander always protected them, he was a savior, everyone loved him. All I could do was sigh at the memory of Vander and the others whenever we were younger, Powder reminded me so much of my little Isha, even though she was just a baby, an infant, they were so similar. Not anymore.

Powder was long gone, so was Vi and Mylo and Claggor and Little Man, every single one of them was gone. Even though “powder” was still in Zaun, she wasn’t truly the same. This wasn’t my concern, I needed to figure out where the hell I was. The air felt thin, a weird greenish color and it was near toxic. Inhaling it felt like I was swallowing sandpaper, my throat was closing up and every cough I hacked out was painful, my eyes were barely able to see through the clearing and I was met with the sight of enforcers, through the clearing all I could see were enforcers. A whole group of them, however one I could recognize without even thinking about it. Caitlyn Kiramman.

A gun raised as she explored the foreign territory and her lackeys followed in suit, they were actually terrifying, all of them, gas masks covering their guilty faces, the swoosh of hair just barely escaping their helmets. A shield plate covering their chest from any harm and yet everyone else down here was stuck with no armor, no masks, no weapons but they were raiding a place that looked similar to an arcade– a child’s place. How worse could they get? How worse would they be if they catch me? I caught a glimpse, a small glimmer of blue hair, a braid running from the shadow but it escaped my vision long before I could actually see it. I couldn’t worry about this, whether or not that's who I assumed it was, I needed to get out of there immediately. My stomach was still in knots of pain but I still ran, I couldn’t be in there. The last thing I heard was a singular shot let off but my body went in the opposite direction.

Half an hour later I was stuck with half an orange, two full vials of shimmer and no sister in sight. I was too close to our house to keep the shimmer on me, it wasn’t like my job was a secret to Isha but I didn’t want her to see me like this. I didn’t even know if the shimmer was still in my system, two whole vials of it had gone down the drain or rather injected itself into my skin and I couldn’t even feel it or remember what happened but I knew it was there, I could feel the buzzing under my fingertips. It was a dormant sensation waiting to be reawakened with every step I took but I couldn’t allow it to over take me. “Isha! Isha, I’m home!” I shouldered off my jacket, a hand rubbing over the bandage around my mid area in the cracked mirror. Weak Freak. Blighter. Bitch.

I held my head in my hands, the headache brewing over the cynical thoughts running through my mind, I saw him, the debt collector I killed. I saw him in my mind and behind me in the mirror but whipping around only led to air and the agitation of my headache even more. It was starting to turn more into a migraine, even the lights would irritate me, I couldn’t open my eyes without the lights burning them and my head screamed at me. “Your fault! It’s your fault that I’m dead! You know that right, blighter?” “Shut up!” As the silence finally fell, I remembered my reality, no one was in the house but me, not Isha, or the debt collector or enforcers. Just me. “God fucking damn it, I’m losing my shit.”

I didn’t remember passing out, I didn’t even remember making it to the scratched up couch that we owned and yet that’s what I woke up on and to my surprise my sister was in the very same room as me, crouched on the floor with scuffs on her face and hands. Rushing over, I stooped down to her level, brushing the caked up dirt out of her hair and dust off of her face. She looked like she had taken a tumble beyond comparison but she was smiling and giggling like an idiot. Her hat was covered in small drawings all over it, pink, blue, yellow and purple streaks of colors splayed all over it, what the hell? “What happened to you? Where have you been?” She completely ignored my question, glazed over eyes as she asked about my whereabouts– signing it, I had to see her dusty and fragile hands ask about where I had been and why I was injured, I couldn’t admit to my sister that I was selling again and I definitely couldn’t say that I had probably killed six people. “Smeech, I pissed him off and we both know that doesn’t end well but I’m fine. It’s a small injury, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks.” She frowned, not believing any of my bullshit by a long shot but I tried. I took the hat off of her head, examining it closer, wiping off the small bits of dust that remained.

She shook her head at me, complained that it was purely nothing, it was hilarious how much sass a little girl could have with her hands and facial expressions alone, honestly impressive. I didn’t want to leave her side anymore, I couldn’t after the scare today. I was afraid to even go back and sell, Smeech would want revenge for the debt collectors I may or may not have killed, I still couldn’t recall correctly if that was me. Fuck. I let out a hiss at the memory of me ditching the vials right outside the house, some random mainliner was gonna grab them, that wasn’t the concern to me but if they overdosed on my shimmer then Smeech would know and all hell would rain down like hail as he slowly started fitting the pieces together. An image of Isha being dragged away from me, kicking and screaming, fighting like all hell because she was my sister but still losing, I couldn’t take the sight, my head was hurting, basically killing me, there was no way I could let that happen.

I returned the hat to her head, squishing it down enough to cover her eyes as a joke waiting as she pushed it back up with an unagitated glare. “We don’t have any food for tonight, so I’m gonna go get some, alright? I just need to make a little bit more money and there will be enough for both of us..” I sucked in a breath as I looked at her. “If I can’t make enough for two then you can get whatever you want, alright? I’ll be right back, shouldn’t be wrong.” Her small frame ran towards my leg, launching herself onto me and not letting go even whenever I tried to shake her off like a bug. “Isha! Isha! Come on, you gotta let me go! I gotta go!” I would never yell at her, more groans of annoyance at a normal tone, one of her hands released its grasp to sign to me once again. “Promise me you’ll come back. Promise.” Gods, this little girl, she was gonna be the death of me.

“I’ll do you one better, I swear. I swear to every deity in this realm that I will make it back home to you, Isha. I don’t care what happens as soon as I leave this house, I will make it back to you.” I wiped the small tear from her face and planted a kiss on her forehead (a little hard with that helmet of hers but I wasn’t gonna tell her to remove it) , rubbing her cheeks and she finally released her grip and with that I made my way back out into the city– and I will keep my goddamn promise.

Never in my life did I ever think that I would be going toe to toe with a mainliner for some shimmer that I didn’t even want and yet here I was, getting the shit beat out of me by some random hash-head with a bone to pick because I saw the shimmer the same time that he did. Goddamn it! Why did I even leave the house? The shimmer was a lot further than I remembered and now I was reeling the consequences of my actions, with a kick towards the man’s torso, I felt stronger than I usually do but the feeling was shortly replaced as he flew away from my body and his sudden missing force sent me backwards directly onto the ground. Man, I am just having a shit day today. Dusting myself off, I made it back to my feet, scoffing as I took a look around at the scene before me, I did all this for one vial. What's gonna happen when I find the second one? If I even find it.

“Hey! Are you ok over there?” God fucking damnit. Hiding the shimmer behind my back I turned towards the voice, another group of enforcers however one of them was injured, I had only been outside for an hour and a half maybe two, I lost track of time but still that wasn’t enough time for a group of enforcers to get jumped unless there was something else going on in town that I wasn’t aware of. A ginger haired girl poked her head out from the light in the alleyway towards me, my eyes looked bloodshot because I couldn’t recall the last time I had slept or had water or a full meal. Hiding my face with a glare towards the ground, I tried to sneak glances at them, a weird blue looking guy was holding up a bulkier man, there was no way I was gonna win a fight if he was gonna be my opponent, it didn’t matter how much shimmer I had in my body, he could body slam me no problem– it also didn’t help me that I didn’t really know how to fight, I just swung my hands and eventually they would hit something or someone. “Hey, sweetheart, are you ok?” Why did she have to call my sweetheart? It was so much more..demeaning, degrading me in such a way, like she was taunting me. The lick of her accent only dealing more pain to the wound, Piltover, every single one of them assumed the worst of anyone down here and the fact that she was an enforcer? God I would never live it down if she found me with shimmer, hell she might even kill me on the spot, so my only option? “Fine. That.. crackhead tried to steal my money. He succeeded, I’m pretty much out.” I lifted my face, so that she could see me, injuries from my other fight still visible, her face reacted but not her words however the two behind her seemed impatient, whispering about her needing to hurry up. She rummaged through her jacket pocket and dropped some coins in my hand, plenty for me and Isha, god they were so easy. With a wave she ran back to her little group, a scowl on the man’s face as he looked at me, at that point hiding the shimmer didn’t do me any good and they were leaving and injured as well, were they really gonna stop for me?

That ginger haired enforcer gave me plenty enough for me and Isha, maybe even a little bit more however I still needed to get rid of this shimmer– I needed to at least prove to Smeech that I did sell my products and didn’t just lose it (which is exactly what I did). I owed him nothing, absolutely nothing and yet here I was still trying to pay off my dwindling debt..a debt that was definitely going to have some “added fees” as soon as he figured out that it was me. My eyes glazed over the sky, a blanket of dimming sky had fallen over, then again I could barely see anything due to the glaze of the smoke, it felt like the smoke from earlier however it wasn't as thick so it was just barely breathable. My hand flew over my mouth, a small attempt to filter the trashed air, as soon as I made it through the smoke I could see Piltover in my wake, one day Isha would be up there, she wouldn’t be stuck down here with anyone else, she would be trusted and respected and no one would where she came from because I’d erase any existence of her being in Zaun, for her own safety, for her future.

My thoughts were shattered, not because of the shimmer this time, but because the ground began to shake, the gas in the alleyway being dragged outwards towards god knows what. I thought it was a monster or a vacuum until Piltover was painted pink, blue, purple and green, the colored smoke staining buildings which I could see even from where I was. Children started giggling, running around and celebrating the defaming of Piltover’s “perfect” picture. I couldn’t stop the smile that was shown on my lips– gaze trapped on the smoke until it dissipated. “Jinx! Mommy she’s back, it’s Jinx!” Jinx? Two run ins in one day would be crazy, right? I ran into the enforcers that she murdered earlier today and now I’m watching her plans play out in front of me. I've only seen her a few times in my entire life but she was enrapturing every single time, her mind was near genius, something that no one ever appreciated or acknowledged but I saw it, I noticed it, granted that meant nothing to her since we had never met but still. She’s actually the one who got me into creating my own trinkets. Isha took a liking to it as well, perhaps I should start to tweak them a bit more. Focus. If Jinx was up to no good then I was pretty much screwed– Isha. I left her at home and promised that I would be back, no I didn’t promise, I swore that was more important than any promises I could ever make. I sprinted back home but I’m not sure why I even got my hopes up. She was gone, she didn’t leave anything behind, damnit maybe I should have made her swear that she was gonna stay here, not that I was gonna come back.

My unfortunate first thought was to check wherever Jinx was, thanks to that colorful display she couldn’t have been that far. I didn’t really know where her “hideout” was, I just knew where Silco used to do business since it was pretty hard to hide such a renovated building and it’s been abandoned ever since his death a few months ago.. To be honest Silco gave me more hope than Vander ever did but once he fell down the wrong rabbit-hole and created shimmer, I lost confidence in every new “symbol of peace” that popped up every few months, except Jinx.

Something about her was.. interesting, it was like she never wanted to be a symbol but everyone kept treating her like one, some may say it was just her being humble but I know better. It was being stuck with a responsibility you never asked for and every single person who was supposed to lead you and show you how it works is gone and now you’re forced to figure things out on your own and everyone is depending on you. It’s how I felt when our parents died, the responsibility to take care of Isha was killing me inside. I never even wanted another sibling, I just wanted to be an only child, we were struggling enough as it is and dad was always sneaking out. When he returned he reeked of Piltover, of their lavish perfumes, exotic smells and fancy food, we both knew that what he was doing wasn’t good but he was all that we had so we couldn’t just let him go because of some.. Piltover woman who stole his heart from my mother.

I couldn’t find it in my heart to call him the traitor that he was, not even mom did it, if anything she looked worried for him every time he got back from Piltover, stealing him away with hushed whispers. I could never really hear what they were talking about, I just assumed that they didn’t want to fight in front of me but I was a big girl, I could handle it, I didn’t need them to treat me like a scared child.

Now here that scared child was again, clutching my shirt away from my skin like it would save me from whatever horrors were inside of this building, I expected dead bodies in the corners, people’s heads on the gate as a warning or a beware, instead it looked like a normal building but with a lot of lights on the outside. I shoved the front door open, it seemed locked but this place was clearly abandoned so it's not like there were any guests hiding inside– besides the ghosts that is.

It was freezing in there and the temperature only felt like it was dropping the further I moved, the slow movement led me to an office room, an uncomfortably dusty chair was hidden away by the even worse looking desk. It was very uncanny, I could play out Silco turning around in his chair in front of me despite the fact that I have never met the man face to face. “Well, don't you clean up nicely?” The rasp from her voice made me jump, my head swinging in every direction to find out where it came from, she sounded like she was behind me, and beside me all at once– turns out she was just beside me.

“Sevika– mara, you could at least announce yourself?” There was a brand new arm that adorned her, gold in color but drawings all over it in those same, now traumatizing colors, and a slot machine to go with it, wasn’t she an addict? “What are you doing down here, blighter?” I hated that term and she knew it, it was definitely just to get under my skin but it worked every single time. “Looking for my sister.” She shouldered a laugh. “I was wondering where your other half was. My personal favorite out of the two, she doesn’t complain as much.” I rolled my eyes, she was mute, she didn’t verbally complain about anything but I guess just shutting up is what gets you favored by Sevika. “We found her aright, Jinx caught her trying to get away from some of that rat’s ol’ debt collectors. That your doing?” I mentally cursed however my body showed my disdain from the way I deflated. “I… I didn’t mean to. Damn it, it wasn’t my fault. A group of enforcers came out of nowhere and jumped the shit out of me and some other sellers. It’s how I got this–” I lifted my loose shirt to show her the wrapped up injury, she grimaced and looked away from it as if she wasn’t interested in it but hadn’t she already seen it before? Why was she acting like this? “Wait, weren’t you the one who bandaged me up? You’ve already seen it, why are you asking me what happened?” Her head turned back to me and her eyebrow raised as she stood up and walked towards me. I’m not a pussy but I know a fight that I can and cannot win and she is someone I can’t fight and win. “No. I haven’t seen you since last year.” “Then.. I went to the Last Drop, looking for you. Who helped me if it wasn’t you? I saw your shoes..” Sevika groaned loudly and took off, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to follow behind her but I did.

It looked like an abandoned air ventilation system, however it was decorated with the same drawings that I saw on Isha’s hat when she came home and the one’s on Sevika’s arm– Jinx? Isha noticed me before I noticed her, running immediately over to me and hugging onto my leg, tears filled my eyes as I looked at her. I didn’t think she was dead but my hopes of her being alive and well weren’t very high at the moment. I clutched onto Isha’s side, tears filling my eyes, I had almost her twice in one day and it was enough to give me a heart attack– it didn’t help that both times I thought I lost her ended with Zaun’s symbol of “peace” and psychopath who was also the most alluring woman I have ever met in my entire life.

God damn it Jinx. She scowled at me, an eyebrow raised at my presence, that seemed to be happening more often than I would have liked it to. “Enforcers, they jumped the shit out of me and almost killed me. I would have never left her alone if it wasn’t for those bastards.” Isha’s inaudible giggle was below me as she signed the word for “shit” and I lightly slapped her hand away, kids are so bad. Jinx’s eyes didn’t seem to waver, forever staring into my soul as if she was gonna rip my throat out with her teeth for even touching Isha– like she wasn’t my sister. “Looks like you didn’t do a very good job.”

Her gaze went towards my stomach and I wanted a hole in the floor to open and swallow me up, her surveying my body was so intimidating and intimate that it began to breach the lines of uncomfortable. “I killed those enforcers ok? I killed them and the stupid debt collectors in that goddamn alleyway. There are six people dead and it’s all my fault so can I get a little grace here?” I almost yelled at her, who was she to tell me that I was a bad sibling? A bad protector? “You left her!” She seemed to stalk closer to me with her every word. “At home! She was never supposed to be on the streets in the first place but if she didn’t leave the house like I told her not to then we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place!” My words were directed towards Isha but my anger was shot directly at Jinx, so much she almost choked on her words. “But you still left me!” “I didn’t mean to! I went to hell and back to get back home to her!” I was so entranced by my own fit of rage that I didn’t even notice her change of words. She wasn’t talking about Isha, she was talking about herself, but I had never left or even met Jinx personally besides this one point. She had just been a whisper in the crowd, a terrifying sight that Silco had created that he guarded as if she was actually his own daughter. It was sickening to hear but it was none of my business. We both just sat there, heaving chests and ignoring the tears that were threatening to slide down our cheeks, the only reason I looked away from her was because Isha tapped my thigh. “We were fighting the enforcers, the one with the blue hair almost shot us!” Us? Us Us?! My eyes flicked up towards Jinx, invading her personal space without a care in the world, pushing her back up against some makeshift desk, she could have stopped me if she wanted to but didn’t.

“You let Isha get close to Caitlyn Kiramman? You almost let her get shot by Caitlyn Kiramman?! She’s a fucking child! Do you have any restraint at all or are you just that evil that you can’t even help yourself but enjoy chaos? And why the fuck did Caitlyn Kiramman almost shoot you?” At my last question I spun towards Isha, I didn’t actually know anything about what was going on, I just knew that she almost shot my sister and that was enough to go off on anyone around. “The kid was protecting Jinx. Jumped on top of her and wouldn’t let go of all hell, Caitlyn and Vi were trying to kill her– your sister didn’t want to let that happen.” Oh. Well now I felt like a fucking idiot, Jinx was going through hell and I just blamed her for everything without even asking, however she could have clarified or at least said something while I was standing in front of her– why hadn’t she moved? I turned my head back to her to apologize but she bombarded me with a hug so fast I almost fell over, those tears from earlier finally over took her, wetting the top of my already ruined shirt. I didn’t know how to respond, I just awkwardly wrapped my arms around her as she snuggled into my neck. “You came back to me.”

taglist: @livinginabasement @llycrow @katethejinxwife @hank-girl @ayedomino0 @jiunxo @vivispace @maksysti @jinxslapdog

#arcane season two #jinx x reader #jinx x y/n #isha arcane #arcane spoilers #arcane jinx #arcane #x reader

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awsugar · 2 days ago

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Idk if you would want to post this but that certain blogger who calls gerard a trans woman is now saying some crazy things on Twitter transvestigating gerard. As a gender confused person I genuinely feel sick. Gerard’s every move is watched and dissected by this person in what feels like a fetishistic way. It’s just so disturbing. (This same person thinks frerard posting is parasocial which is just insane). What’s most shocking is I think the person is an academic, and the way they mobilise certain evidence, completely overlooking anything that disagrees with their view point is just not ethical.

oh trust me i know! girlgerard left tumblr but is still being actually MORE insane on twitter now! and i did some stalking recently just a little light hate scrolling and all of your favorite mcr bloggers are actually still friends with them and enabling this behavior 🥰 it makes me sick to see too, why are we forcing labels on people we literally don't know. gerard said he's ok with he/they. you don't get to headcanon a real life person!!! and like. for what. it boggles the mind how they think that people who disagree are misogynists. is it not literally transphobic to decide someone's gender for them based on presentation and some stage outfits??

if gerard was a trans woman and WANTED us to refer to him in that way he would. you know. say that. their insistence on only using she/her not as like a lighthearted jokey thing but like very serious thing while no one who is close to gerard has like. ever done that. is just so crazy and to base your entire online presence on that.

it's gotten better on tumblr since they left but like it feels so insidious to me! and the way it took over the fandom during swarm tour and everyone acted like it was normal behavior...it's really really crazy. can we just be normal....it wouldn't even be bothersome if they didn't have like a hoard of impressionable people hanging on their every word and spreading it to everyone especially young mcr fans who will then just think it's normal....

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iloveelvisss · 3 days ago

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Lovestruck (an Elvis fic/imagine)

Pairing: yandere!Elvis x Reader

Summary: It’s 1975 and Linda has rejected Elvis’ proposal, leaving him drug dependent. Worried and frustrated, his family and Linda get an in-home nurse to get him back on track with his health. But what happens when Elvis mistakes her kindness for love?

Warnings/Triggers: this is a yandere fic so expect dark themes such as, obsessive, compulsive, manipulative, crazed behavior. Elvis is delusional. References to sex and baby making. Forced marriage, and slight kidnapping? References to the colonel.

Priscilla left. And Elvis believed he was heartbroken, keyword: believed. And he sulked and sulked and sulked for weeks.

But then Linda came around. He was convinced he was in love with her, letting her move in and redecorate his house and make friends with his baby daughter. He even thought about proposing. But she said she wasn't sure if that's what she wanted.

And while she was a good distraction at first, when she rejected his proposal, the drugs became more of a distraction to him. And he made it okay by telling himself that drugs couldn't tell him no.

And that's how it went for the longest time. But people were worried. His family was worried— even baby Lisa knew something was up with her daddy.

So Linda, armed with everyone else's concern, took matters into her own hands. She called so many doctors and rehabilitation centers, and eventually she got a nurse to agree to live in at Graceland to try and get him off all the pills.

•

You walk into the grand house, following the gorgeous woman. She's sweet, has a good character and you can tell from just talking the few words you have.

The house looks different from the pictures that were once in the pages of a tabloid, with Elvis on the couch with a guitar. Back then the house was light, with royal blues and whites, but now it was like a vampire's lair— all red and gold.

"I just want to say thank you. We've tried to get him to go to rehab, but he refuses every time."

You smile sweetly at Linda. This is the first job that could actually mean something for you, and you feel as though you should be the one saying thank you. Before this opportunity, you were prescribing solutions to trust fund teens in California who got ahold of drugs at their high school parties. It was a good job, but you wanted more— you went to school for more. You felt as though your talents could be put to better use, and this was that breakthrough you were looking for since you graduated college.

"No, this is an honor, seriously. And sometimes it's better for people of his caliber to be kept away from prying eyes in times like these. Going to a center would put him at more of a risk for a press leak." You sit down with her as you make it to the living room, and there you find Elvis' father as well. He stands and shakes your hand.

You sit with them and talk about plans and the goals they have for his recovery, and all the while, you're stuck wondering why the man himself isn't here. This is a meeting about his health, after all. But they don't mention it, so you don't either.

And once they're satisfied with everything, Linda shows you to what's going to be your room for the next however many months.

An hour later, you go down to dinner, not expecting Elvis because Linda informed you that he usually took his dinner in his room nowadays. But to everyone's surprise, about halfway into the meal, the stairs creak, and almost immediately his presence engulfs you. Your eyes widen and you instantly stand up, still not quite believing that you're in the same room as your favorite singer.

His eyes scan the room before they zero in on you; it takes your breath away completely. And because of the nerves wracking your body, you give him the most awkward smile ever, mentally scolding yourself for being so stupid. He's human just like you. That's what you repeat to yourself over and over as he slowly stalks over to you from around the table.

Everyone— the few members of the Memphis mafia that decided to stay for dinner, Linda, Vernon, the cook who was plating the food— all stare with bated breath, all of them knowing how Elvis feels about rehab. He doesn't believe he has a problem. "Well what do we have here, hm? Ya sneak through the gate, honey?"

It takes you a minute to shake yourself from your trance, but once you do you shake your head. You're acting like a little girl that's seeing Santa Claus for the first time. "N- no, sir... pardon me, my name is Y/N," you stick your hand out for him to shake, "I'm your new nurse."

Linda winces and you shoot her a confused look. She expected him to blow up, or for his jaw to tick, or for him to say something snide— anything other than the gentle smile that graces his lips. He takes your hand and places a kiss on the back. Vernon clears his throat awkwardly. What is happening, you wonder to yourself. Everyone is acting like they're at a funeral. Except Elvis. He's acting like he got the latest Cadillac model.

Bless Linda's poor heart, and the fact that she can tell you innocently have no clue what the look in her boyfriend's eyes is. If she were anyone else, she'd want to tear your hair out. But she keeps quiet, just grateful that he's taking the news well. "Well I'll be damned, I didn't know I was sick. Honey, am I sick?" His eyes turn to Linda— only for a split second before they're piercing into you again. Is this love at first sight... because it sure seems like it to Elvis. He had to talk to all the other girls for at least a day before he felt something. Linda bats her eyelashes, "it's just in case, E, that's all. Gotta have ya perfect for the stage, yeah?"

He hums, and then finally lets your hand go. He gestures to your chair and then sits at the head of the table that's conveniently beside you. "Welcome then, Y/N."

You smile, this time a lot more gracefully, and then sit like he did. "Well why y'all starin' like dummies? Eat." He instructs everyone at the table, and like little minions, they all obey.

But he talks to you. About everything under the sun. And during such a time, you both come to an agreement on what he needs to do differently in order to maintain his health. A nice and easy regiment that should keep him from facing very terrible withdrawals. He seems to like you, or maybe he's just a really nice guy, but either way, you decide you're going to really enjoy staying here.

Weeks pass much the same. You like being friends with Elvis, and you realize that he's extremely humble and down to earth, not at all like the negative press he gets. You get a solid routine down; once a day, you give him a checkup, and you also lessen his pill intake everyday until he's down to strictly only what he actually needs. And much to the Colonel's dismay— a man you deemed icky the first time you met him— Elvis fires Dr. Nick and takes on a doctor you personally recommend.

•

Elvis knew this time. And despite his earlier feelings, he was mentally thanking Linda for rejecting him. And whether or not you liked it, you were going to be his.

You were his guardian Angel. That had to be it. You were saving his life. Of course he had a problem, and now he knew it. You were sent to him by God and were there to save him. He knew it. He knew that had to be the truth. Why else would you be so willing to better such a man?

Oh, and the way you smiled at him. The way your eyes lingered on him. The way you so very clearly wanted to be his. He wasn't blind, and the way you always looked at him with a twinkle in your eyes, that had to be you pleading for him to take you away— make you his. And once he knew for sure his plan would work, he'd do just that. He'd save you just the same way you saved him. And you'd be together, like you both wanted. Forever.

His hands would linger. When you'd check his blood pressure and breathing, he'd put his hand on your shoulder. And you never told him no, you never pushed him away. And he knew signs when they were given— you were definitely giving him signs.

There was this language between the two of you, a silent pining. He knew it. 'Just a while longer, angel. We'll be together.' It was a mantra inside his head every second of every day.

Four months into your residency as Elvis liked to call it, and fours months of mutual pining, Elvis knew it was time. He put his plan into action. You came home from the pharmacy to see bags in the foyer— your bags. With tears in your eyes, you walked up the stairs, "Elvis? Hello?"

You paused as he walked out of his room, looking the picture of health and happiness. He could see the confusion written all over your face. He was about to explain when you cut him off. "M' fired? Ya want me to leave?"

And then he saw resolution mix in with the emotions filling your face. You dry your tears. "Well thank you for the opportunity. It was great, and I hope I helped you well enough, Mr. Presley." You seemed almost fine with the idea, just a little beaten up about losing a job. But he knew better, you were playing hard to get.

"Mr. Presley? Baby, don't call me that, Mr. Presley is my daddy. Can't ya tell? We're goin' away... you and me." He grabbed your hand, a smile painting his face.

And there was that confusion again, and if he weren't so crazy, he'd also see that the look he thought was love was actually a little bit of fear. He'd been extra touchy and sweet, but you thought that was just the type of person he was. But now you could tell that he was just rather crazy. What did he mean going away? You were his nurse. "What're you talking about, Elvis?"

"C'mon, darlin' let's not dance around this no more. I see the way ya look at me— we're in love." He grins wolfishly, his grip tightening. He looks down at your lips.

You shake your head slowly, your eyes widening. You take a step back, looking behind you for any sign of anyone else, but it's then that you realize the house is eerily silent except for the two of you. He pulls you back, your face making contact with his chest. His free hand tangles into your hair and tilts your face so you can look at him. "Angel, I know moving away seems scary, but we can be together. We can start that life we both want, hm? I know ya feel the same, ya don't gotta say it right now."

And you can't even say anything or even try and run because he's got you thrown over his shoulder and in his car within minutes. He buckles you in and gets in the drivers seat after instructing Sonny to load your stuff into another car and to meet him at the airport.

He looks at you from the rear view mirror with a crazed smirk, one he thinks is harmless and loving. "How's Vegas sound, angel? We can get married in a chapel and ya can watch my shows every night, and we'll make Lisa Marie a big sister. I can tell yer beggin' for me to make ya a mama," his fingers drum on the steering wheel as he speeds through Memphis to the airport, "Oh yeah, I can see it now. Ya won't leave the bed for months after we get hitched. And I'll make this one last 'cause yer my soulmate. I was a dumb sonofabitch for thinkin' it was Cilla."

And as you stare at him through the mirror, tears fighting to fall from your eyes, you realize that this is one situation you don't think you can get out of. You screwed up.

Heyyy lovies! So I wrote this today because I wanted to read a fic like this but I couldn’t find one, so I just wrote it myself. First time writing darker themes, so bear with me if it’s not that good. Enjoy anyway, or at least I hope. Much love❣️ (I also just wanted an excuse to use that picture because he looks so scrumptious in it).

#70s #elvis fic #elvis presley #elvisaaronpresley #vintage #elvis fans #elvis the pelvis #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #fanfic #50s elvis #70s elvis #60s elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfiction #elvis the king #yandere

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zepskies · 3 days ago

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Wowowow!! 😍 First of all, thanks so much. You really spoiled me with this review and it totally made my day!

I find it really interesting that this fic is the first one you've read from me, since it's such a "niche" pairing. But I love that you loved it (and my writing 🥰)!! Christmas is my favorite holiday too -- in no small part because of the food! lol I had fun incorporating my family's traditions into this one, and of course, feeding Dean. 😆

Diving into the rest of your amazing (and hilarious) comments below!

(you should know as I'm typing this I am daydreaming about the flan, you should just straight up know that LOL)

Giiiirl, get you some flan! My mom makes it so good. I can't wait for the holidays. 😮‍💨

I am happily being led while pushing Dean out of the way to get to it first. Lovingly of course lol.

lolll I'm dead! I can picture Dean's (playful) outrage. 😂

Not going to lie, I'd be giving Sam a little bit of the stink eye myself. What is so wrong with Dean enjoying himself a little? Besides...give me ALL the flan!!! Sam doesn't know what he's missing.

Right? Don't bother the man on Christmas lmao. Sam ate plenty on this round too, he has no room to judge! 😆

This right here is perfection. It made my heart break for Dean as well as Sam for their childhood, what Dean had to sacrifice at times to take care of Sam, how Sam never realized it before...just so perfectly written and so on point.

Aww thank you. It was an HC of mine that stemmed from bits we got of their childhood, and that one ep where someone was like, "You ever been hungry? Like haven't eaten in days, hungry?" And Dean was like, "Yeah..." 😭😭

I feel like from Sam's POV, he would never have known hunger with Dean around, even when things were tight and they were waiting on John.

Moments like this are worth melting for. 😉 (seriously though, I'm pretty sure I have to call someone to get the wetvac to get me up off of the floor)

LOLL honestly same! Oh for Dean to gather me to his chest in a warm snuggle. 🫠🫠

The whole ending scene just makes my heart glad, especially with her offering to go for a walk with Dean, most likely keeping in mind what Sam said (while Sam is keeping what she said in mind - like I said, perfection!) , but I especially loved the ending sequence right here:

Ahhh you caught what I was laying down there! She cares about Dean's health, but she also cares about his happiness. While Sam's now going to be taking what she said into account and try to have a convo with his brother about it in the future.

Ahaha and he so DOES wear shorts when the need arises! 😏

This was just beyond sweet and it was something I very much needed back when I read through it the first time. (I'm sorry I didn't leave feedback until now! I'm trying to be better about that these days) I love the way you write the Winchesters and this one shot cemented you as one of my favorite writers I've come across in this fandom (as well as a few others 😉).

Aww I'm so glad this little fic could give you some much needed escapism. (It's ok, friend. I'm just grateful that you did!) And that's an amazing compliment, thank you!! I'm honored to be counted as one of your favorites! 😭💜

I definitely cannot wait to dive into the Midnight Espresso verse and get more of these two. You did a beautiful job here, lovely!!! Well done!!! 😊💖💖

I would absolutely love it if you delved deeper into the Midnight Espresso verse!! It's a passion series of mine, so it really means that much more to me that you enjoyed it, as well as left such a heartfelt review. 💕

Get Stuffed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader

Summary: Dean enjoys the way you cook Christmas dinner with a Latin flair, even if Sam likes to tease him about his insatiable appetite. You remind Sam about the true reason behind one of Dean’s biggest quirks.

AN: This was requested by my lovely friend @iprobablyshipit91: Sam making the usual digs at Dean about his diet, and how much he eats, and the reader pulling him aside and telling him to back off as he doesn’t realize how much Dean went hungry as a kid to make sure Sam was fed.

Word Count: 1,800 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, innuendo, tinge of angst

**This story can be read as stand-alone, but you can also check out the full masterlist of one-shots below. ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

“Aw, hell yeah,” Dean mutters. He rubs his hands together and surveys the immovable feast that’s about to get shoveled into his mouth.

This Christmas marks roughly your first year living with the brothers Winchester in the bunker, and a few months after your first anniversary with Dean.

He’s made it very clear that he enjoys your cooking, especially of Cuban food. So you’ve gone all out for Christmas: white rice and your grandmother’s recipe for black beans, boiled yuca with plenty of garlic, bread drizzled with more garlic and olive oil, and Dean’s favorite…

“What’s this part of the pig called again?” he asks. And he uses a large fork to spear into the mountain of roasted meat that you’ve already cut and piled onto a platter.

You come in from the kitchen with the bread in hand, placing it on the dinner table. You sidle up behind him, where he's seated.

“The shoulder,” you say, squeezing both of Dean’s. He hums in interest as you press a kiss to the side of his head. “It’s called pernil. Marinated with garlic, mojo, bunch of good stuff.”

He predictably steals a juicy piece of meat, plopping it into his mouth. He grins while he chews and makes a happy sound.

“Ohoho, yeah.”

You share an amused look with Sam, who sits beside his brother. By the time you’ve found your seat on Dean’s other side, he’s already serving you and Sam the same hefty portions he serves himself.

You know for a fact you’re only going to eat about half of your plate. Sam manages to polish his off. Dean does as well…and serves himself twice more before you break out the dessert.

“Please tell me that’s a flan,” Dean says, drumming his fingers on the table.

“How the hell are you still hungry?” Sam asks.

The look on his face says he’s half entertained, half disgusted. Dean is still sucking on the crispy skin on a piece of pork. He licks the juices off his fingers.

“Have I taught you nothing?” he says. “There’s always room for dessert.”

He tosses you a wink, followed closely by a suggestive smirk. You glance at him with a smile as you set down the metal pan.

“It is a flan,” you affirm. “I tried my hand at coconut this time.”

“Ooh, tropical,” Dean says, waggling greasy fingers. He wipes them on a napkin before he reaches for the pie cutter, which is usually reserved for his favorite dessert. Although, flan is rapidly becoming his second go-to. The rich custardy goodness is calling to him like a siren song.

“How can I get you to make this more often?” Dean mutters while carving out a generous slice.

Your lips curve. You rest your chin on your hand and lean towards him, earning his gaze. “If I made it all the time, you wouldn’t savor it, now would you?”

Dean smirks. His gaze lowers to your lips, like he’s contemplating some persuasive maneuvers.

“You’d also be 300 pounds,” Sam remarks, taking a sip of his beer.

You eye Sam with a frown. But Dean just laughs it off and cuts his little brother a slice.

By the end of the meal, all three of you are stuffed. Dean groans and leans back in his seat. A gurgle mounts audibly from his stomach.

“Jesus. Are you erupting?” Sam says.

Dean holds up a finger. “Wait for it.”

You give your boyfriend a bemused look. You know exactly what’s about to happen. As does Sam, who’s grimacing.

A few seconds later, Dean does erupt, with a truly legendary belch.

“Nice,” you say wryly. Dean squeezes your soft, thick thigh and backs his chair away from the table.

“Well, since I roasted the pig and you did the rest, I’d say it’s Sammy’s turn on cleaning duty,” he says.

“Thanks,” Sam says, with a wan smile. Yours is more jovial, even as Dean’s hand toys with a curl of your hair after he stands.

“I’m gonna shower off the meat sweats,” he says.

You giggle, but you nod. “You do that. I’ll help Sam a bit, put away the food at least.”

Your smile becomes more genuine when Dean drops a kiss on your forehead from above.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says. His voice is a quiet, deep rumble washing over you. You know what he’s thanking you for: good food, and a small, but warm Christmas.

You reach up and give his cheek a tender touch, before he withdraws and makes his way to the bedroom he shares with you. It leaves you and Sam to collect what’s on the table and bring it all into the kitchen. While Sam does the dishes, you start to put away the leftovers.

Something has been nagging at you all night, though you’ve tried to stamp it down time and time again. You don’t know if it's your place to say something. Especially if Dean doesn’t seem bothered…but it bothers you. And you’ve never been one to hold your tongue.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” you begin, even as a small bit of trepidation niggles inside you.

Sam looks over at you. He’s quick to catch the serious note in your demeanor.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he replies. You okay? his eyes also ask.

“Why do you get on Dean so much for enjoying his food?” you ask.

Sam blinks. Then he scoffs a little. “There’s enjoying, and then there’s gluttony.”

“He’s not that bad,” you argue.

“He ate half his weight in pig,” Sam says. You can’t exactly deny that, but you cross your arms and turn to him, leaning your hip against the counter.

“So? It’s Christmas. Let him be happy,” you retort.

Sam levels you with pinched brows. “He’s not in his 20s anymore. All that crap he eats is going to catch up to him someday.”

“What, you expect him to down some kale smoothies?” you reply, giving a pointed brow raise and a teasing smile. “Get up at the crack of dawn for a bare-chested run?”

Sam shoots you a dry look.

“My point is, I’m not gonna survive hundreds of monster attacks just to get taken down by cholesterol,” he says.

You sigh a raise a placating hand. “All right. I get what you’re saying. I’m just saying…have you ever thought about why he loves food so much? Why he overindulges sometimes?”

Sam's brow quirks. It’s a question you know you need to tread lightly in order to answer. You uncross your arms to lay a hand on Sam’s wrist. He stops washing dishes and turns off the sink to give you his full attention, sensing your shift.

You look up at him, and you steel yourself.

“He might’ve mentioned once…that you two sometimes had a hard time growing up. With John taking you guys from motel to motel while he was working a job, and every now and then, leaving you guys alone longer than he meant to.”

Dean had been more than a bit drunk when you’d gotten this out of him. Hearing about that aspect of his upbringing had upset you, not just as someone who cared about him, but the caretaker in you smarted.

“Even though you guys didn’t have enough money at times, your brother always made sure you were fed,” you explain. You meet Sam’s gaze, squeezing his arm. “Sometimes he went without.”

Sam’s expression slowly slackens, contemplative and dismayed at what you’re implying. He dries his hands on a kitchen towel and rubs at his mouth, like he’s reeling back the years of evidence in his mind and trying to confirm if you were right.

“You don’t remember?” you gently ask.

Sam shakes his head. “I mean, I knew things were tight. I remember him taking care of me, obviously. But…”

He doesn’t remember his brother going hungry.

It carves a hole of remorse in his chest.

This isn’t the first time he’s had to reexamine Dean’s role in his life, and not the first time he’s felt this flavor of guilt. But he sighs and really doesn’t know what to say.

You seem to realize that, and you squeeze his arm one last time.

“Just keep that in mind,” you implore.

You soon leave him to venture upstairs, but there in the kitchen, Sam makes a resolution before the new year. One that includes having a conversation with his brother.

You find Dean in your bedroom. Now in his most threadbare sweatpants and an old black shirt, he lays over the covers on the bed. His eyes are closed and his arms are folded behind his head, but he hears you when you come in.

You slide into bed next to him and lay your head on his chest. He groans deep and slowly lowers his arms. One of them wraps around your frame.

“Think I overdid it a bit,” he admits, cracking his eyes open. You smile and gently pat his stomach.

“Wanna go for a walk tomorrow?” you ask. “We can go down to the park.”

Dean raises a brow at you. “You hate walking.”

“Not true,” you shake your head, before you rest more comfortably against him. He tucks you in beside him and begins to run his fingers down your arm. It’s a bit distracting.

“Could be nice, with the right view,” you add, though you shiver a little at his touch.

Dean makes a sound of mild interest in the idea. “I guess, if you like stringy trees and frozen lakes.”

It’s winter in Lebanon. Not much to look at.

You smirk and press a kiss to his chest. “I mean, that, and you in some little Richard Simmons shorts.”

Dean gives you a look, and you giggle so hard it shakes your whole body against him.

“Honestly, I think that’ll really do it for me,” you tease. You walk two fingers across his thigh, where a cute pair of ‘80s-style exercise shorts would cut off.

Dean grabs your hand and rolls you over, pinning you underneath him on the bed. His thigh slips between both of yours, causing friction against your jeans. And he smirks down at you.

“Sweetheart, I don’t do shorts.”

AN: 😂 A little callback to S1 at the end there. I hope you guys liked this! Just in time to prepare for my Christmas cooking! ❤️💚

Keep Reading:

Next up in this series is "A Wish to Build a Dream On":

Summary: Dean has been harboring the archangel Michael in his mind for weeks now, putting a strain on your relationship as you struggle to help him. When Dean makes a wish that accidentally brings his father back from the dead, you get to meet the (in)famous John Winchester. But as always with magic, your boyfriend’s wish has unintended consequences.

▶️ Next Story: A Wish to Build a Dream On

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#reader appreciation #lovely mututals #get stuffed feedback #lovely review!! 💖💖

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stylespresleyhearted · 1 day ago

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WON’T ANYBODY HELP US? WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR?

Summary : the beginning of Benny Cross & his favorite nurse.

warnings: language, stereotypical 60’s attitudes, sickness/illness, references to lupus but not explicitly said, references to suicidal thoughts/wanting to give up blink and you miss it

“Your favorite patient is causin’ trouble again.”

Tania smacks her gum against the roof of her mouth as she passes by the occupied lunch table. There’s a loaded sandwich sitting in front of you - only two bites in but it seemed like your lunch would be cut early.

Wednesdays were usually your favorite day of the week but today had been nothing short of chaos every step of the way. The system had gone down multiple times and the added minutes were causing everyone to get grumpier than usual. It was only fifteen minutes ago that someone had walked to the check in desk and deemed you incompetent of doing your job. Sawyer had stepped in and allowed you reprieve for a quick lunch shortly after but now that was cut short as well.

Of course you didn’t have to go. But you weren’t sure what Tania meant by ‘causing trouble’ and it caused anxiety to swirl in the pit of your stomach.

Instead of throwing the sandwich back into the cooler you decided on bringing it along with you. It was too delicious to leave behind and by the time you got home you knew food would be the last thing on your mind. Your bed was already calling your name.

“Floor 3, Room 11A,” Sawyer supplied helpfully when you passed the help desk, figuring he would be in the same room as usual. The one furthest from the main area.

Grateful, you give her a smile and mouth a thank you.

Two flights of stairs and an endless hallway later you find yourself at his room door. Doctor Martin sits beside him on a stool, elevated taller than the other man although there’s actually a four inch difference. Now that you’re aware they aren’t killing one another it’s easy to take a step back and rest against the doorway; to take him in as is.

Benny was externally the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. Golden hair always shining in the sun, fluffed enough to show he had run a brush through it but messy with strings of hair flat out to show he didn’t care too much what he looked like. Oil splattered his jeans and undershirt and over the corner chair you were able to see his jacket strewn over the back. His eyes caught in the sunlight streaming in through the one window in the room, blue eyes catching green and golden specks at certain angles.

Martin must have requested him to take his jacket off. That alone would have warranted a blow out but it seemed Benny had consented to take his colors off for once.

“Doc.” Dragged back from your thoughts by Benny turning his attention towards you, catching you when you were inspecting his jacket.

You smile big, happy to see him if anything.

“She isn’t a doctor here,” Martin says. From here you can see he’s pulling the stitches across Benny’s skin and bone with none of the tenderness required to avoid scarring. “She’s a nurse.”

It’s said like an insult but you decide against rising to the bait. Martin’s usually much kinder, he must be upset he was the one left caring for Benny.

“I can take it from here, Doctor Martin,” you offered, taking a few steps closer in hopes that he would hand over the needle. “I overheard something about a crash on the highway. I’m sure they’re going to require your assistance soon.”

“He was in last week for ripping the stitches on his left knuckles.” Martin throws both gloves into the medical compartment beside him. “He’s in today for - oh yeah, the same damn thing.”

“What’s your point?” It’s Benny who speaks up, the hand in your hold curling in anger and not pain.

Deciding that his knuckles are scarred enough as is - and the beginning of repairing his stitches had obviously been done with no care to healing skin - in an attempt to soothe you run a hand down his bicep.

Goosebumps rise in the wake of your touch.

“My point is, Mr. Cross, you’re taking us away from people who actually want to get better.” His ending question was left unsaid, lingering in the air between them all: Why bother getting help at all?

“Our job is to help the injured.” Protectiveness rears its head but it is a smarter move to play it smart, after all you’ll pay for any remarks or siding against him during rounds tomorrow. No doubt be assigned the patients with excessive vomiting or stomach problems to clean after. “No matter who it is, Doctor Martin.” Your smile is meant to ease the tension and you’ll be unaware if it worked until later.

His exit as he storms out the room doesn’t leave high hopes.

A few months into working here, after a handful of runs in with Benny when he’d gotten mouthy or passed off to different doctors for being temperamental you had asked why there always seemed to be conflict involving him and the personnel. Don’t like the way they grab me, he had replied and after having seen the way Martin had worked his stitches and the looks he got from every person in the waiting room you found it reason enough.

“You’re left handed,” you notice and his attention is brought from the window back to the hand you hold.

He shrugs, as if it never occurred to him what hand he used.

“My right is busted so I used my left.”

“So you’re ambidextrous?” He cocks an eyebrow and you smile despite yourself, explaining, “You can use both your right and left hands with the same amount of skill.”

“I know what ambidextrous means.” You would feel bad for assuming he didn’t if he cared but he doesn’t. It’s one of the reasons why he was always passed off to you - his aloofness and lack of care never offended you. Why would it? People are the way they are despite the way one feels. And in reality, his way of being was the reason you liked him. How must it feel to be so free? “Just don’t know why it matters so much what hand I use.”

It’s an honest point and you laugh, loud.

“It doesn’t. It’s an interesting fact to learn about someone though,” you shrug, noncommittal, but the smile begins to cause an ache in your cheeks. “Now I can say I know four things about you, Benny Cross.”

“Really?” He smirks. There’s a shift in the air as he goes from carelessly lax to confident in a second; never more sure of himself than when he was riding his bike or attempting to pull a girl apparently.

“Oh yeah, adding it to the list I keep plastered on my room wall. I’m a real special girl, you see, getting you to open up like this.”

“I’ll deny it. Say you injected me with some shit and it caused an allergic reaction.”

You laugh again, feeling lighter than you had all day after everything that had gone wrong. This was another thing people never got to know about Benny: the guy was funny. He was able to give it back as good as he could take it. Only thing was, when someone pushed he made sure to push harder.

Having redone the stitches Martin had made a mess of and happy with the outcome of his hand now, you gingerly clean the excess blood remaining before turning to shove everything into the disposable department. All the while Benny follows your every move.

This was why Sawyer didn’t like to care for him; she said she didn’t like his stare.

You couldn’t find it in you to mind it, he wasn’t anything like the guys on the street who would cat call and whistle when you went by. His eyes caused a warming sensation in any part of you they caught.

Having washed your hands, you return to his bed with the sandwich outstretched. He looks from the food and back to you but makes no move to take it, which you expected. “If you don’t take it it’s gonna go in the trash,” you admit, exaggerating your pout for a sadness effect. “Which would suck because it’s the best damn sandwich I’ve ever made.” But my lunch is over and I didn’t get to enjoy it because they told me you were here, left unsaid.

“Never known hospital food to be any good.” He accepts the sandwich from your hold but makes no move to eat it. He slides by, closer to you than when you had been stitching him up, and picks up his jacket. “Thanks, Doc.”

There’s a want in your belly, brewing, growing, anything to keep the conversation going but he’s getting ready to leave and you weren’t lying when you told Martin there was a crash on the highway. There was nothing left to say and that was the bad thing about being in Benny’s vicinity: he always left people wanting more. More of his freedom. Of his wildness. Left people scrambling for any scraps he gave.

Sometimes the weight on your shoulders feels so heavy your knees buckle and it’s only when he strolls in with an injury or another that you feel weightless. Young. Alive.

“I’d tell you to rub aloe on those knuckles but I know you won’t listen,” you mention it anyway in case he finds himself home with nothing to do or at a store and it strikes his mind.

“Don’t need none of that hippie oil shit.”

He fixes the collar on his jacket with his left while his right holds the sandwich that is now out of its container - stained, oily hands and all he moves to take a bite.

The bread pales in comparison to the lively pink of his mouth.

“Until next time, Benny,” you toss over your shoulder, taking your exit.

He has a last glimpse of the line of your jaw and the hair flip over your shoulder, the plump arch of your backside and the straight posture of your shoulders. “Bye, Doc.”

Saturdays are spent at the market on Merigold in downtown Chicago.

You aren’t always able to get the days off but when allowed, you spend your day walking the collection of set up shops with your sister and your two favorite people in the entire world: niece and nephew.

At only eight years old, Maddy already contained more motivation than half the adults you encountered on a day to day basis. She had declared her intentions to become a scientist and find life on another planet (because the world is too big it's not just us!) and as such took her schooling absolutely serious. She required no pestering to get out of bed or do her homework and most days she acted more adult than any actual adult you knew.

‘Annoying’ was her new favorite word and it’s used in response to any inconveniences she encounters in her young life. It had quickly become your sister's least favorite word and Maddy had earned herself a time out when she deemed her dad annoying for snoring.

Poor, sweet Jack was nothing like his loud-mouth, dreamer sister and more times than not he made your heart hurt. At only six years old he had already encountered the world’s cruelty. Earlier this summer your sister, Melissa, had to drive a few towns over and pull him from summer camp because he was getting bullied. He was a heavier kid than most his age and a big eater to top it.

To make him feel better you had dedicated that weekend to him completely: a sleepover spent building forts, reading his favorite comic books, and baking sweets.

“I told Daddy five bucks wasn’t a lot!” Maddy holds her money with a sullen pout and foot stomp to follow. She stands in front of an outdoor, singular bookshelf that contains coloring books, bedtime stories — and she must be looking at Space Cadet which is priced at 6.50.

Melissa shrugs, “You know the rule, Maddy. Five dollars is your allowance. How about instead you get this one?” Your sister picks up another book, this one from the lowest shelf, and priced a dollar lower right in Maddy’s price range.

Beside you Jack holds your hand with his right and picks his nose with his left.

“Mommy I have that one already!”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to step in and offer to complete the difference in price but you don’t want your sister to feel undermined so instead you focus on Jack and how he’s managed to get his entire, chubby pointer finger into his nostril.

“Excuse me, sir!” You dramatize to hear his giggles, a smile erupting even as he turns wide eyed. “And where are you thinkin’ of putting those boogies, huh?”

With a mischievous look that lets you know exactly what is coming he wipes his finger on the side of your jeans, attempting to run away after. He shrieks as you grab hold of him, wrapping both arms around his back and bringing him backwards.

“Oh, that’s it!” You playfully growl, blowing raspberries into his neck and eliciting more of his loud, wonderful giggles. Happy in this moment you allow yourself a few laughs as well, hugging him tighter as he struggles to get away.

Distinctly, engines rumbling break the busy bustle of the street, the people of the town stopping their shopping to stare and wait for what - or who - everyone is aware is coming. It’s a sound that could be heard at all hours of the day, whether it be caused by a guy or two or the whole gang of them. Leather jackets, denim jeans, cigarettes, and all.

As the thunderous roar of the engine increased in volume, the Vandals emerged from the end of the street - drunk and half-naked with the exception of only a few. It was a good thing you had a hold on Jack because you felt him tug to get free. No doubt to run to the bikers if his amazed

“Wow,” was anything to go by.

You make sure to clutch him tighter, more people crowding the sidewalks now to make room for the bikers taking the entirety of the street. It was only a year ago that there were only seven of them driving past the stores, and slowly, every weekend since there’d be new members joining them.

With a good grip on Jack’s shirt to make sure he can’t escape and no one can jostle him, you look up again, locking eyes with Benny. He’s already staring. Taking in all of you, with a beanie thrown over your head and worn down boots you squeezed into it because the new ones still hurt.

He’s effortlessly cool riding by. One hand on the handle and another on his lap; some may think he was trying to show off but the truth was he didn’t care too. He was riding right in front of you now. His blue eyes were shadowed in the gray of the weather, becoming lighter instead of brighter. The ring he wore glinted against the metal of his bike and he’d either gotten into a scuffle or had chosen to not do his hair today. There were pieces sticking in different directions and as he drove past you could see the back of his hair was flat.

He smiles at you, slowly, pink lips parting to reveal glistening, white teeth and a glint sparking in his eyes.

“Come on,” Melissa ushers Maddy away from the books, “no time to waste.”

“How annoying,” Maddy grumbles.

You bite your lip to hide your answering grin.

Tania calls on Sunday morning, begging you to cover her overnight shift because she’s come down with the flu.

It was 7 a.m. and there was no coffee or breakfast in your system but she genuinely sounded horrible over the line so you agreed.

“You’re pushing your body too hard,” your Ma said from her position by the stove, “it’s gonna flare up again. You just wait and see.”

“Ma,” you snap and hate yourself immediately after.

It isn’t her fault your body decides to fail you time and time again; most times after you spend weeks thinking you’ve somehow magically been cured. The doctors had already explained it didn’t appear to be a genetic disease and it certainly didn’t derive from your parents because when Melissa had been tested she was declared physically healthy.

There’s resentment clogging your chest and throat, yearning to yell about how it isn’t fair but it isn’t her fault either.

It isn’t anyone’s fault that you’re sick and they’re healthy.

Turns out your Ma is right. You should have seen it coming.

Three days letter no food can be kept down and there’s an ache running from your ankle to mid-thigh that has you crying when you try to leave your bed.

“I hav’ta go work,” you try to explain to your parents through the tears and fatigue and the pain as they ease you back into bed.

“Just rest now, honey,” your Ma is trying to soothe, combing stray hairs away from your face. There’s a funny look on her face.

Her chin is pulled tight and there is a wobble to her lip.

You aren’t sure if the pain is causing hallucinations.

“It isn’t fair,” you sob, allowing yourself to lose the battle of trying to stand so your father can relinquish his hold. “It isn’t fair, Dad. Jus’ wanna be able to … be.”

There isn’t another way you’re sure how to explain it. The ability to live was a privilege to all but taken for granted by so many. If sickness and ailment wasn’t something you dealt with you’re sure you would be as ignorant and ungrateful as any other healthy person.

“I know, sweetie. I know.”

One of them places the pill in your hand. When you swallow, your mother helps hold your head up to pour water in your mouth.

Useless. That’s what you are.

You are in bed for a week. Adjusting to the medication always proves to be a rollercoaster of events. Tired the first few days and sick to your stomach the next few.

The worst part comes after the pain stops. When the pills aren’t needed and you’re left with the shakes and the chills and a never ending migraine. No better than any druggie laid out on the streets.

“Dr. Howard would have given you a few more days off,” Sawyer says after the fifth time your hands cramp up while you’re typing.

It takes everything to not tell her where to shove it. Regardless of everything, she’s your friend and she cares. Having everyone hovering makes you aggy.

“I’m fine,” you insist.

She shrugs; sighs worriedly; walks away.

The past ten days were spent in bed. Well, seven of them were spent in bed and the last three had been spent holding onto your parents as they led you up and down the hall in an attempt to readjust to moving around. The restroom hadn’t been much of an issue as you were unable to consume much of any food or liquid. Everything was retained in your body and what wasn’t you had puked out.

Doctor Martin approaches, calling your name. “I need you to fill the questionnaire for a patient. He can’t spell and his reading isn’t great.”

Your hands are in fists on your lap. You look down, try to open them, shake, and close it again. The green monster knocks on your chest again, builds, bangs against your ribcage and twists your guts, anything in an attempt to free itself.

You focus on your breathing.

Doctor Martin calls your name again to pull your attention. “Is that going to be a problem?” He looks to your lap but your hands are in fists, hidden from sight.

It’s gonna hurt like hell but you refuse to let anyone else pity you.

“No,” you decide and take the clipboard from him.

Rationally you know it isn’t right or fair to hate anyone for being healthy. Sickness or suffering isn’t something you would wish upon anyone; not even your worst enemy.

I’d like to see Martin get a cramp though, you think bitterly. Nothing lasting or damaging. A leg cramp that has him sobbing and unable to stand for a couple of seconds. That’s it.

There had only been seven questions and four of them required simple answers but it didn’t seem to matter if one word was needed or forty. The paper looked like it had been scribbled on by a second grader with no motor skills and in your state the comparison wasn’t far off.

“If you’re incapable of legible penmanship I’m not sure what you’re doing here,” Martin had spewed in your face, anger in his eyes when he tossed the paper and demanded Sawyer redo the questionnaire. “Go home.” He dismissed you.

Asshole.

Home was the second to last place you wanted to be. Your mother was worried, hovering around you any minute of the day and while your father tried to be better he followed you into every room you entered and his footsteps could be made out five feet away from you, always hovering.

Space. Air. A damn break. That’s what you needed.

Walking around the streets at night probably wasn’t the brightest idea you had but you were too anxious and wired to sit still and any restaurant or store you entered ran the risk of running into someone you knew.

Tonight you’d take your chances with strangers lurking in the dark.

You’ve walked the same block four times, in an attempt to be somewhat safe, the one that has the most street lights when you hear it. Grumbling. Roaring. Headlights brighter than any lamp currently illuminating the street and working to blind you as you try to make out the figure riding.

It would either be your friend or it wouldn’t be.

The headlights beam brighter somehow, blinding you enough that you look away and try to squint the spots away from your eyes. When you open them again the rider is down the block and your vision is still distorted. You don’t bother to try to make out any features from this distance and focus on trying to lessen the disappointment swirling around inside.

You had wanted it to be him. You aren’t sure how but you know seeing him would improve the ending of your day. It might be his pretty, blue eyes and the crinkles that appeared when he smiled. Or maybe the smell of 3-in-1 men soap, engine oil, and something distinctly sandalwood and citrus that was uniquely him would be useful in relaxing you.

Overall, you think it’s his way of being that you need tonight. Someone who was so selfishly themself because they needed nothing from anyone around them. No thought to go into what to say or do next because there was nothing to happen besides what was going to happen.

Disappointment is still swirling when you hear it return. A thrumpty exhaust groan from deep within the machine from being pushed too hard, too quick, that you’re sure is currently reverberating the ground beneath you.

And then like an apparition (more like a wish come true) — Benny. You decide that you may be sick and days may be shit, with a huge emphasis on the last thirteen days, but God does not hate you after all.

The light from his bike creates shadows across his face, highlighting the golden beard and mustache but hiding the pink of his mouth. His eyes you’re unable to make out, unsure if they were happy or sad, mad or tired.

With his headlights hitting you directly however, he’s able to make out every feature of yours.

“Benny.” It’s just his name that escapes you, no greeting accompanying it, but you don’t bother to hide the relief in your tone and you’re sure your smile is blinding him like his lights are blinding you. If he wasn’t how he was and you weren’t already feeling raw with rejection and failure you would have hugged him.

“What’cha doin’ out so late?” He uses his leg against the sidewalk to lean his bike inward. Thigh muscles ripple underneath the tight denim of his jeans, illuminated greatly by the shadows cast by the headlights.

You shrug, unwilling to be honest. “I needed …” You’re not sure what you were going to answer so you stop and he allows you time to think. You had said you needed air but you take a deep breath and all the worries and stress of before continue on. You thought you needed space but you began to feel lonely and the last thing you want is for him to go away. There’s no correct answer it seems so you can do nothing but laugh, tilting your head towards the sky. You wish you were brave enough to scream at the stars or howl at the moon. “I’mma be honest, Benny - I’m not sure what I need. I’m just,” you exhale, “a mess tonight.” More than just tonight but you don’t want to scare him off either.

You know that if he asks what’s wrong you’re going to start crying. There’s an ache in your throat that is blocking any air entry and the sting in your eye isn’t from his lights and the shaking in your hand hasn’t gotten any better and if you tell him the truth he’s going to pity you like everyone else and now there’s a traitorous tea—

“Wanna go to a meetin’?”

You look up, wanting to be sure that you heard him correctly. There’s no joking lilt in his tone, only sincerity and the same hint of boredom always wavering in the background. Like if it would make zero difference to him what you decided. You remind yourself he’s not the type of guy to offer something for niceties.

He’s in the same position. Using his leg to lean closer to the pavement, one hand holding onto the left handle and his bike rumbling beneath him. He’s got his head cocked to the side, generously allowing you to feel wanted, like if it’s something he wants you to consider and not only reject.

But there’s another aspect to consider in all this: the only source of transportation currently is his bike.

Be careful, you can hear Ma say, you aren’t in any position to be careless, honey.

She’s right, your Dad would agree. It’s the hand you’ve been given.

Careful.

All your life you’ve attempted to be as careful as you could be. You watched where you were walking because a fall could result in a knee that aches for days, not only a scrape. You rubbed the healing oils the neighbors down the street swore by, you took salt baths to help with inflammation, you took medication that was meant to help but it made your head pound and your hands shake and your stomach stick and every couple of weeks or month your body still rebelled, nerves inflamed and bones hurt and it was your worst enemy.

“Sure.”

If you fall from his bike, if he takes every red light and stop sign and a car rams into you — getting up won’t be as easy for you as it will for him. But you’re accepting his invitation nonetheless, taking his offered hand to help you swing a leg over. He grabs hold of both arms, instructing you to keep them around him. It’s exactly how you’ve read in a novel or watched in a Marlon Brando film.

The tremors consume your body and vibrate around him; you wipe the claminess of your palms on his T and hope he doesn’t mind.

“You’re shakin’.” He notices, revving the engine but staying still, as if waiting for you to change your mind.

“Benny?”

“Hmm.”

You rest your chin on his shoulder to pull his attention and it works; he turns his head to the side so he’s able to look in your eyes. The scruff around his jaw is long enough to rub against your lower chin. It tickles but you don’t move away, being able to look into the eye closest to you. He smells of cigarettes and motor oil, of fresh air from the farmland a few miles out and of gas.

He smells of open possibilities and freedom.

“Can we go fast?”

He turns forward, laughing as he kickstarts the bike into motion.

“That I can do. Hang on, Doc.” And he takes off.

True to his word, he never slows down, not once. The wind comes hard and fast and you’re not sure how any of the old ladies who ride with their men manage to keep their updo’s perfectly done. Hearing the roaring of the engine in the silent night, the rumble of the machinery while straddling the bike, the wind blowing across your face — it was close to therapeutic. There were no confinements of a car, the cage that had become your life falling away with every new upheaval on the speedometer, every one of your senses was assaulted and brought to life.

You finally understood Benny and the gang and why they fought to maintain their way of life. Freedom isn’t something you would be willing to give up either.

Much too sign he’s slowing down, approaching the bar. The place is in full swing. Everyone seems to have arrived before the pair of you. There’s several motorcycles parked out front and in the center, up front, you recognize the red bike belonging to their leader. Benny parks right beside it. You wonder if it’s a rank thing where the boys park their bike.

The wind stops; no more vibrations arising from between your legs. Benny kicks a leg out and turns his head slightly to catch sight of your movements, waiting for a reaction or to see if you’ll hop off.

If you’re being honest there’s no desire to stop.

“That was …” fun wouldn’t do the experience justice. “Exhilarating.” Freeing. “I felt like a bird.”

Benny hums, either in agreement or acknowledgment but he arches an eyebrow at you over his shoulder and his response causes you to laugh. Loud and inhibited, and once you begin it seems impossible to stop. The stress of the day fading away with the memories of the wind in your hair, hands wrapped tight around him, and every single burst of laughter that escapes you at his acceptance of your random sentence.

It felt good to be understood. It felt even better to feel invincible for once.

You use Benny’s shoulder for balance to get off his bike, releasing the last bits of laughter that escape and leaving only a wide smile that threatens to split your face in half as you stare into his eyes.

You aren’t sure how but you had known even earlier he’d bring an ease to the weight that had been resting on your shoulders and suddenly, you’re eternally grateful for him. For who he is and confounded that someone who had only come into your life because he kept getting injured could level your emotions so well without trying or knowing.

Any gratitude would only cause him confusion or discomfort so instead you choose to continue smiling.

He cocks an eyebrow, swinging his long leg around to stand up off his bike.

“I’ve got a good feeling about tonight, Benny,” a hand is thrown over his forearm and intertwined as he leads you to the bar.

Again, he only hums.

Turns out Benny’s a gentleman. Not that you were expecting him to not be, but if you’re honest you weren’t sure what to expect walking in.

How many times had you seen Vandals strut through the front doors of this bar, catcalling and roughhousing heard to the public before the door shut behind them. Once or twice you may have wondered why the visiting ladies exited pink and red in the face and adjusting their clothes.

But it isn’t like that for you. Benny holds the door open and stays a steady presence at your back. His friends holler and cheer, there’s some comments made under their breath and in his ear when they step up to congratulate him on what they assume is a new victory conquest. Eyes look you up and down and grin at him in approval but he has no response for them.

With his hand at the small of your back he leads you to an open table, going as far to pull the chair for you. From his position against the wall, you spot Johnny Davis — the leader. When you were in high school you used to babysit his daughters.

He dips his head in greeting.

The chatter in the room is so loud you can’t make out the song that’s playing.

“Benny?” He sits next to you, casual with both elbows on the table and manspreading so wide his knee bumps against yours. Benny leans forward to hear you better, close enough that you're able to notice for the first time he has freckles. One of the guys bumps into your chair, laughing, and you scoot closer. “I’m gonna need a drink.”

#benny cross #the bikeriders #austin butler fanfic #benny cross x reader #benny cross fanfic #bikeriders fanfic #austin butler x reader #austin butler #had this sitting on my docs for months now #decided why not #lemme know ur thoughts!

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hipsternumbertwo · 1 day ago

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Favorite Angela Moments 45/∞: Mamma Mia But Different (A Donna Line)

Patrick making Angela go out in a gold sparkly fabric (?) and a hat to hide her costume in the intro

A Donna Line is an homage to A Chorus Line

Having Josh and Austin in the band makes that FIVE StarKid members in this show.

Mamma Mia as opening number

Shoutout to Jon, Kimia (the producer?) , and Emily (the director) being on stage almost the entire time

Jon's dance choreographer (?) character just saying dance moves for the cast to do and then joining in in the end (too little Jon in this IMO)

Vic as Carol - a mechanic?realtor?actress? idk she was crazy

Mary Lou as Evelyn - the sexy one that will do anything to be on the show

Madison as Linda - she has volume control issues

Gabe as Ophelia - the poisoner

Angela as Helen. Mirren. - a relatively unknown actress. A Dame and BAFTA winner (but no one cares)

Mariah as Meryl Streep - she needs a job

They are all auditioning for the role of Donna

Meryl and Helen have history

Evelyn (ML) sings When I Kissed the Teacher (crawled on the table, kissed Angela on the cheek, and accidentally touch Vic's boobs lol)

Carol (VIC) have some weird stories but have no passport to go to Greece so she's out of the running and sings Take A Chance On Me while beating the guard up, running through the audience, and DOING A FREAKING FLIP

Ophelia (GABE) tried to poison Meryl but ends up being poisoned instead then sings SOS before passing

Linda (MADISON) was the abandoned secret child of ABBA members singing the most shocking, chaotic, and hilarious version of Chiquitita I've ever heard, complete with ribbon dancing

The Meryl-Helen rivalry backstory finally revealed: they were competitive tap dancers earlier in their carreers, with a very dangerous move that if done wrong will end someone's dancing career. Helen thought Meryl sabotaged her and challenged Meryl to a tap dance competition

They got a real tap dancer as Meryl's double (Mariah can't tap dance?) Angela did her own (I don't know tap but it looks decent when she wasn't deliberately doing a bad job PLUS her mic pack got loose so she was trying to hold it while dancing) while ML sings Dancing Queen and injured herself doing the move

Helen (ANGELA) gives up and told Meryl (MARIAH) she has the role while singing the duet Winner Takes It All (harmony for dayssssss) with Ang switching between singing great during the harmonies then having an accent when doing her solo

Now we get to "present time" as Meryl becomes Donna and sings Thank You For The Music while doing dance moves seen in the movie. Also serves as the finale number with the whole cast.

They said they will perform this again in the new year maybe because the writer of this MMBD Alden was sick during this night and he was supposed to play Ophelia

#this is a VHSCC weekend queue #angela giarratana #mariah rose faith casillas #jon matteson #vic michaelis #kimia behpoornia #mamma mia but different #smosh #dropout #team starkid #starkid #emily skeggs #mary lou kolbenschlag #gabe gibbs #madison lanesey #josh fleury #austin farmer #anggifs #miscanggifs

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possessiveandobsessive · 2 days ago

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A Cat for Her Crow

Pairing: Lucanis x fem!Rook

Synopsis: Lucanis Dellamorte has a soft spot for two things: cats and a certain red-headed elven mage that goes by Rook

We've reached the end! This is the final part of this story! I hope you all enjoy!

Part 7: The Rook, Her Crow, and His Demon

When Lucanis's gaze next met hers again, his eyes were Spite's. She grinned at him, "Hi Spite. Lucanis said you wanted to talk to me too?" Spite curled Lucanis's mouth into a twisted, devilish grin that belonged to Spite alone.

"Rook is ours now? Rook will stay with us? That's what she said. Yes? That's what Lucanis said." Spite sounded relieved, but within that relief, there was a fearful questioning. He wanted to believe her. Lucanis needed Rook, and Spite liked Rook too. She was his favorite. She didn't treat him like a dog, or like he was evil. Rook treated Spite as another individual and Spite had never experienced that with another human. He couldn't love Rook the same way Lucanis did, but he loved her the way a Spite demon could. He'd kill anyone who hurt her. So yes, he realized that he, a demon tethered to a human soul, was afraid of losing this woman too.

Rook smiled warmly at his eager questions. Right now, he reminded her more of a puppy than a Spite Demon. She was no fool though. Rook heard the hint of fear, of anxiety in his tone. Spite was afraid of losing her too. The thought made her sad, but she understood it. She had been afraid too, so afraid she almost didn't say what she felt. Rook needed Spite to understand she wasn't going anywhere, and that her loyalty lay with them.

"Yes Spite. My place is at both your sides. I'm not going anywhere." She shot him another grin and winked, "I'm not scared of the big, bad Spite Demon." Rook then became serious again, "I couldn't hurt Lucanis. Not if my life depended on it. Betraying him, losing him, is the worst fate I can imagine." Spite's already glowing purple eyes lit up even more in response. Lucanis's/Spite's expression morphed into a much gentler one. When he smiled, it was warm. This wasn't the smile of a calculating demon, this smile conveyed love.

"Rook saved us. Saved him. He needs you. Needs your strength. Spite likes Rook too. Rook is powerful and her soul burns brightly. Kills well. And smells good. Rook sees Spite, not just a demon. Not just Lucanis. Spite will protect Rook always. Nothing will harm her. Rook is Lucanis's heart."

It was the most she had ever heard Spite speak at one time, and it floored her. Spite was so much more than a demon now. He and Lucanis were connected by more than just the standard possession/blood magic that was common for mages turned abominations. The two of them shared a soul now. Their souls that existed independently before, now were twisted and wrapped around each other so tightly, it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. Spite was influenced by Lucanis's humanity, and Lucanis by Spite's overwhelming and raw emotion. Neither of them could truly control the other. Together they experienced life and its challenges. Together they protected one another and the things they loved. They existed as one being now, something new. Rook couldn't deny that fact, just as much as she couldn't deny that she loved Lucanis. They were all in this together, in a way no one else could, or needed to understand.

Rook put her hand on one of Lucanis/Spite's cheek and Spite made a low sound from his throat in response and leaned into her touch. He looked completely at ease.

"Feels nice." Spite said closing his eyes. "Thank you Rook."

A moment later when those eyes re-opened, they were Lucanis's beautiful brown ones again. So much emotion swirled behind them, and Rook swore if she looked closely enough, she could see tiny flecks of purple flashing within them.

Upon seeing that it was once again Lucanis she was holding, she put her other hand on the other side of his face and pulled him in to kiss her. Finally. They both sighed and prepared to deepen the kiss when an indignant "mew!" came from Lucanis's single bed behind the pair. They separated and Lucanis turned to look at the irritated looking kitten sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked judgemental and very unimpressed with what she saw. The black tuft of hair mewed again and stretched before sitting back down and staring at them. Her tiny tail flicked in annoyance at being forgotten.

Lucanis chuckled in disbelief. "She is an odd kitten that's for sure. Look at how irritated she looks." His smile said he wasn't bothered in the slightest.

"You're going to have to hold on little one, I have to clean up the mess you made of poor Rook's skin first. Then we can get more acquainted, and I'll find you some food."

Rook laughed at how seriously he spoke to her, like she was another person. He really was special. She had gotten lucky at last. "Luck turns kid, you just have to be patient and keep going until it does." More of Varric's wisdom came into her mind. He was never wrong it seemed.

Soon her hands, wrists, and the spot on her neck were cleaned and bandaged. It had been so long since someone had tended to her so reverently. Rook felt like she was home. She hadn't had one of those since she was a child living with her clan and her grandmother. It made her chest ache in the best and worst ways, but she knew her grandmother would approve of her new haven. "Mar vhenan juver ma vhenas, ma' esha'lin" Your heart will take you home, my child.

Lucanis finally turned back to the kitten with his hands on his hips and then bent down to pick her up. At this point, Rook was not shocked to see that the kitten didn't put up even a little bit of a fight, but instead settled into Lucanis's hold right away. She was purring in seconds. What did surprise Rook, was Lucanis bringing the kitten towards her and grinning.

Rook took an involuntary step back, that kitten was fast and not afraid to use its weapons on her. Lucanis laughed lightly and assured Rook, "I'm not going to let her get you mi corazón, but she's going to have to understand that you are always going to be at my side. She needs to learn to be nice to the one holding my heart." The last part was spoken while giving the tiny black fluff ball a sidelong glance.

Lucanis took the last step to close the distance between them. Now the kitten was a foot away from her, still pressed into Lucanis's chest. A single violet eye opened and narrowed at her, but before the kitten could do anything hateful, Lucanis began speaking to her lowly in his native tongue. While he did this, he slowly moved Rook's hand to rest on her the soft black fur. Keeping his own on top of hers, Lucanis and Rook petted the kitten in unison. Rook tried not to look wary, but she was pretty sure she was failing based on Lucanis's encouraging look. Soon enough though, that suspicious little eye closed again and the tension seeped out of her little body. The kitten began to purr contentedly, seemingly having accepted Rook's touch. Rook looked at her and then to Lucanis in wonder.

"That was amazing!" She whisper yelled, "She hated me so much and then you got her to let me pet her! She's purring Lucanis!" Rook beamed triumphantly and continued to gently stroke the baby in Lucanis's arms lovingly.

Lucanis smiled warmly. "I just had to explain to her who you were and that you brought her to me. She knows now that you're my equal, my partner. The Little Talon will not hurt you again."

"Little Talon?" Rook asked, eyebrows going up.

Lucanis's smile became a grin, and he then said, "Well her name is Talon, she is just also little right now. How could she be anything but Talon with how you showed up here? She's already taken on someone who's planning to kill gods." He chuckled before adding, "She's got the fiery spirit of one destined to be a Talon, and she belongs to a Crow. So she is a Talon. Our Talon." Lucanis looked incredibly proud of himself for the name, so much so Rook had to force herself to swallow the laugh that built up in her throat. He deserved this moment.

Rook smiled gently at the kitten one last time before pulling Lucanis into another kiss, this one chaste, but carrying a promise. They stood together for a moment; forehead to forehead, eyes closed, with a kitten pressed between their chests. Rook and Lucanis both knew what was still to come. They both knew that the danger was high, and that, for the moment, this bliss was temporary. The fight to come would mean death for many, and they'd have to fight hard to protect the people they loved. So they cherished their moment of peace. All 3 of them.

Later that night when Rook returned to her room, she was startled to see it now contained a bed big enough for two adults (and a kitten). She just smiled. Lucanis was going to throw a fit when she told him he couldn't stay in the pantry anymore, but after tonight, she didn't think he'd really mind sharing her space.

* * *

Lucanis had never felt so well rested in his life. The past few nights he had slept completely through the night. A full 7-8 hours per night! No Spite takeovers, no sleep walking, just sleeping next to his love and with his new baby curled up top on his chest. It was astounding and so relieving to be able to sleep. When he was preparing to head out with Rook and Davrin that particular morning, he decided to ask Spite about it.

"Spite" Lucanis called. In the mirror he was staring into as he strapped on his blades, he watched his own eyes go purple.

"Yes?"

It was still incredibly disconcerting to see his own mouth move in the mirror without being the one to speak the word. "How come you haven't been trying to get up and go somewhere the past few nights? Do not get me wrong, I'm grateful and I need the sleep. But you used to always try to get out and run around while I slept, even after we came to our new agreement. You were so eager to get out, explore, and no doubt cause panic, why is now different?"

Spite stared back at him in the reflection for a moment before surprising Lucanis with his response, "Can't wake The Talon. Or Rook. But We can't move to get up without waking The Baby Talon. Baby Talon needs rest." He paused, "And Spite likes being with Rook. She is comfortable. Don't want to go anywhere without her, and Rook sleeps. So Spite stays here. Makes us feel... home."

Lucanis stared at the mirror in blank shock. Spite wasn't getting up to cause mischief because... he didn't want to wake the kitten on Lucanis's chest? And because Rook felt like home? Actually, he couldn't fault him there. Lucanis wouldn't want to disturb his kitten either, and Rook WAS their home.

Shaking his head ruefully, Lucanis just said, "Thank you Spite. You're exactly right."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Epilogue: Mar Vhenan Juver Ma Vhenas

It was finally over. All stories have an ending, and this one was no different. The blighted Gods were dead. The impossible had been achieved through the combined strength, effort, and lives of the many people who had taken up Rook's cause. The Crows, The Veil Jumpers, The Mourn Watch, The Lords of Fortune, The Grey Wardens, and the Veilguard had all stood together in the face of a power that without all of them, they couldn't have hoped to match. Together though, they brought down a god, his army, and his Archdemon, saving the world as they knew it. And Rook, together with the Inquisitor and Mythal had gotten through to the Dread Wolf. Convincing him to put it right, the three women got Solas to tie himself to the Veil. He would keep the Veil between worlds, what he once viewed as one of his greatest regrets, in place and protecting the people of Thedas for the rest of time. Fen'Harel acted for the better of the new world and her people, not for the one lost to the ages and struggles of thousands of years passed. The Dread Wolf came through in the end, as the Inquisitor and Varric both knew he could.

As for Rook, she was just grateful the dark times were over. She'd lost so much. Varric, Harding, and so many she once knew died fighting for this cause. "Whatever it takes", they'd all agreed. For some, it truly took everything. The losses were agonizing at first, especially in the days immediately following the final battle. Rook had to send many letters notifying Harding's family and loved ones as well as Varric's friends that they had made the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of Thedas. There were tear stains on the pages, evidence of how much the words pained Rook to write down. It made it all too real. But it was real. Rook knew now better than ever, that holding onto regret and hiding from the truth only trapped a person in grief and pain. She had too much to live for to do that to herself.

Lucanis and Spite had been there when the battle finally ended and Solas finally made ammends. She was immediately pulled into a crushing hug when the dust settled and the quiet calm fell over the scene of death and destruction.

Lucanis had said her name over and over again as he held her, his voice full of relief and reverence. "We did it Rook." he said, finally pulling away enough to look her in the eyes. "You did it mi amor. You saved the world." Lucanis had never been so grateful in his life. He thanked every god, spirit, demon, and power above he could think of. They had made it. She had made it. He could feel Spite's relief and pride in his chest. Our Rook killed a god. Saved the day. Saved everyone. Spite thought to Lucanis before pausing and adding in a grumble, Wish she'd killed the Dread Wolf though....

Lucanis understood Spite's resentment of Solas. The Wolf had betrayed, trapped, and hurt Rook. At the same time, didn't everyone deserve a chance at redemption? Rook had given them one, after all. An assassin and a demon.

Rook pulled him from his reverie when she spoke, "It's... it's over. It's over, and we're alive. We're both alive, and Elgar'nan is dead." Her voice was full of wonder as she said these words slowly, as if she was trying them out.

Lucanis pressed his forehead to hers and put his hand on the back of Rook's neck, holding her gently but firmly in place. "We made it Rook. Or should I say, God Killer." Rook let out a surprised laugh at his statement.

"I guess you're right, we're both God Killers now."

* * *

When they arrived back to the Lighthouse, Rook was exhausted. It ran so deep, she felt it in her bones and blood. Now was not the time for just rest though. The remaining members of her team and herself had just survived the impossible. Everyone was prepared to celebrate, but each in their own ways. There was too much grief in the air for a party, for drunk songs and memories. So they broke off to bask in the fact they were all alive in the well-deserved quiet peace of their Lighthouse.

Rook and Lucanis headed for Rook's room to change out of their bloody armor and get clean. Once this was done, they both laid on her bed together. Talon was asleep on their discarded clothing in the corner, (she was too good for the bed Lucanis had gotten her apparently as it lay unused on the nightstand beside the bed.)

Lucanis was laying on his back with one arm behind his head and the other wrapped around Rook, who had her head on Lucanis's shoulder with an arm slung across his chest. At first they just laid there in silence. The easy way in which they held each other felt like a miracle by itself. After several minutes had gone by, Rook propped herself up on the arm not currently across Lucanis's chest.

"I love you Lucanis. You know that right?" Rook spoke quietly, looking him directly in his eyes. "Now that this is all over, I'm not sure what's next. What I know for certain, is that where you go, I go. I will follow you to the ends of the earth and fade Lucanis. That's my promise."

Lucanis swore he had never loved anyone as much as he loved the woman in his arms. "We can decide together what happens next. The Crows have named me First Talon, but if that isn't the future you want, then we can choose another path. I won't go into a future that you don't want mi vida. You and Little Talon, you're my family."

Rook smiled at him and leaned down, silencing him with a passionate kiss. She pulled away for a moment, just long enough to say the words she had wanted to say for weeks. "We have all the time in the world, love. So let's take tonight for ourselves." She looked up at his face through her lashes, "Show me how much you love me. Make me yours, and tell me with more than words that this is forever."

Pupils completely blown out and eyes holding nothing but love and want, Lucanis groaned and brought her head back down to capture her mouth. He flipped them so that he was now on top of her, before leaning down to whisper in her ear, "It's a good thing we have the rest of our lives, because showing you just how much I love you is going to take awhile."

When she looked at him as he pulled away from her ear, she could see his eyes were an enchanting mix of warm brown and striking purple. "You're mine Rook. Now and forever" "Ours forever".

It was a promise kept, until their hearts stopped beating. Until the sun exploded and the world became dust. They belonged to each other, and there was no power in existence that could change that.

The End

I hope everyone enjoyed this little story! I definitely enjoyed writing it! Thank you to anyone who read the whole thing!

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Part 3 here

Part 4 here

Part 5 here

Part 6 here

#dragon age the veilguard #lucanis dellamorte #veilguard spoilers #datv spoilers #spite dragon age #lucanis x rook #dragon age the veilguard spoilers

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pipwasreal · 12 hours ago

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@gameo-archive another one for the collection!

About Charles using mirrors as windows, the 'thing that is worse than a demon', and love for Jenn Lyon.

Transcript under the read more...

George: Hi Pip, it's George and Jayden here from the Dead Boy Detectives. It's lovely to hear from you, thank you so much for being a part of our little cameo week, or half week, we've absolutely loved it, getting to relive all things Dead Boy Detectives. Now, let's get into your request. You've said: "Jayden, when did Charles figure out mirrors could be used as windows?"

Jayden: Ooh well I always imagined that Edwin, obviously, Edwin has all these books of magic spells and I reckon from time to time Charles probably would have a little scroll through them himself, and I reckon that that was something he saw in one of those books and a spell that he really wanted to master as he obviously did want to go and check in on his mum. Um so yeah that is how I think he came to knowing how to do that. "George, what is the 'thing that is worse than a demon' Edwin was traded to in Hell?"

George: Great question. I probably could've had a more clear-cut answer when I filmed the scene a year and a half ago, but I imagine it was something, maybe like some evil of a non-physical form and I imagine it might have been some form of torture, so you know, like you see in, I can't remember which realm of Hell it is, but when the boys are running through the hotel, through Hell, and everyone's stuck, they're frozen... something of that ilk. It would have been a form of torture, like maybe in a room, kind of powered by a non-physical entity and I think that would have been a big struggle. Um you've said: "Please tell Jenn Lyon she is iconic. Esther is the best antagonist, so funny and scary." Listen, I tell Jenn, I speak to her a lot and I'm often telling her how much she is loved. So I will pass this on gladly, because it's true.

Jayden: And we agree.

George: We agree.

Jayden: Very, very much so. In episode 8, I was chained up to a kitchen cabinet, and in most cases that would've been awful, but the fact that it was Jenn Lyon aka Esther's cabinet, it made it a little bit easier. Listen, we love you Jenn, if you do ever watch this, but we also love you, Pip.

George: We love you, Pip.

Jayden: Thank you so much for sending in this request, you are such an angel, thank you for showing love and supporting our show. Sending you lots and lots of love.

George: Bye!

#Dead Boy Detectives #George Rexstrew #Jayden Revri #gameo #gameoden #video #Jenn Lyon

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jeonsblackgf-writes · 1 day ago

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Hellfire’s Sweetheart | Eddie Munson

summary: the hellfire crew doesnt believe eddie has a girlfriend, he’s more than happy to prove them wrong.

warnings: none

word count: 2,758

pairing: Eddie Munson x black!reader

———————————————————————

Eddie Munson was used to being underestimated. It was practically his life’s anthem. He’d stroll into Hawkins High with his ripped jeans, devil-may-care attitude, and unapologetic love for all things metal, drawing sneers and whispers from teachers and students alike. But there was one thing—no, one person—that would forever remain his greatest triumph: you.

You, the radiant valedictorian of Hawkins High. You, with your perfectly coiled hair and easy, confident smile that left everyone either intimidated or in awe. You, who exuded grace and brilliance in ways that seemed untouchable. And yet, despite all odds, you were his.

And nobody knew.

It wasn’t that Eddie wanted to keep you a secret—not really. But it was easier this way. People would laugh. People would assume it was some elaborate joke. People—most notably his Hellfire Club crew—would never, ever let him hear the end of it.

So, for months, Eddie kept you tucked away in the sacred corners of his world, sharing clandestine dates at the diner, playing mixtapes for you in the van, and sneaking kisses in the woods where no one could see. It was bliss. It was magic. And it drove him insane to hear his friends tease him about his “imaginary girlfriend” every time he so much as mentioned you.

“I’m telling you,” Eddie groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation during a Hellfire Club meeting, “she’s real.”

“Sure she is,” Dustin snorted, stacking his dice in a neat pyramid. “And I’m dating Princess Leia.”

The room erupted in laughter.

Eddie glared at the group, his ringed fingers drumming against the dungeon master’s screen. “You little heathens wouldn’t know real love if it hit you upside the head.”

“I mean, c’mon, Eddie,” Mike chimed in, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve been talking about her for months. If she’s so great, why haven’t we met her?”

“Yeah,” Lucas added with a smirk. “We’d love to meet this mystery girl of yours. Unless, of course…” He paused, his grin widening. “You’re just embarrassed because she’s imaginary.”

“She’s not imaginary!” Eddie bellowed, his voice bouncing off the drama room walls. He shoved a hand through his curls and muttered under his breath, “You guys are impossible.”

“You’re impossible,” Gareth teased, earning a high-five from Dustin.

Eddie bit back a retort. He’d had this conversation more times than he could count, and it always ended the same way—with him retreating in frustration while his friends continued their playful torment. But this time? This time, he had a plan.

The following Friday, Eddie’s nerves were shot. His leg bounced uncontrollably under the table as the Hellfire Club set up for their latest campaign. The guys noticed, of course.

“Dude, you good?” Dustin asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I’m fine,” Eddie snapped, a little too quickly. “Just… focused.”

“On what? World domination?” Gareth quipped.

Eddie ignored him, glancing at the clock on the wall. You were supposed to arrive any minute now. He’d told you to meet him outside the drama room, and the thought of your arrival had his heart doing somersaults.

The door creaked open, and every head in the room turned.

You stepped inside, radiant as ever, wearing your favorite oversized sweater, a pair of perfectly cuffed oversized jeans, and a fresh paid of timbs you just paid for with your check. Your hair framed your face like a halo, and the faintest trace of gloss sparkled on your lips.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Dustin broke it.

“Who… is that?”

Eddie grinned, leaning back in his chair like the cat that caught the canary. “Gentlemen,” he said, gesturing toward you with a dramatic flourish, “meet my girlfriend.”

Your smile was warm as you waved. “Hi. I’m Y/N.”

The room erupted into chaos.

“No freaking way!” Mike shouted, his jaw practically hitting the floor.

Lucas blinked at you like you were some kind of mirage. “Wait—you’re Eddie’s girlfriend?!”

“Eddie Munson’s girlfriend?” Dustin repeated, his voice climbing several octaves. He turned to Eddie, his expression a mixture of disbelief and awe. “How did you pull this off?!”

“Hey, now,” Eddie said, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re Eddie freaking Munson!” Gareth exclaimed. “And she’s… she’s…”

“Way out of your league,” Dustin finished bluntly.

You laughed, the sound warm and genuine, and crossed the room to sit beside Eddie. He draped an arm around your shoulders, his grin as smug as ever.

“Believe it or not,” you said, shooting Eddie a playful look, “I happen to like this weirdo.”

“I told you guys,” Eddie said, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh of relief. “But noooo, you didn’t believe me.”

The drama room had never felt this tense. Normally, the Hellfire Club descended into immediate chaos, their boisterous voices and dice-rolling creating an atmosphere that felt alive. But tonight, it was different.

All eyes were on you, Eddie’s girlfriend, who was now seated comfortably beside him, a serene smile on your face as you took in the boys’ shocked expressions.

Eddie had an arm draped around your shoulders, his usual bravado turned up to eleven. His smirk screamed “I told you so,” but you could see the faint blush creeping up his neck. He was proud—no, ecstatic—to have you there, and it warmed your heart.

“So…” Dustin finally broke the silence, leaning forward across the table. “How—how did this happen?”

You tilted your head with a soft laugh. “How did what happen?”

“This!” Dustin gestured wildly between you and Eddie. “You’re… you! And he’s… him! No offense, Eddie.”

“Offense absolutely taken,” Eddie grumbled, narrowing his eyes at Dustin.

“I think what Dustin means,” Mike interjected carefully, “is that you’re, like… really smart and pretty and, you know… you. And Eddie’s… Eddie.”

Lucas nodded fervently. “Exactly. You’re Hawkins High royalty. He’s… well…” He trailed off, glancing at Eddie’s Iron Maiden shirt and fingerless gloves. “You get the idea.”

You exchanged a glance with Eddie, who raised an eyebrow as if daring you to answer.

“Well,” you began, leaning forward with an amused smile, “if you must know, Eddie won me over with his charm, wit, and complete lack of shame.”

“Damn right I did,” Eddie quipped, squeezing your shoulder.

“It’s true,” you continued. “He asked me out three times before I said yes. The first time was in the middle of history class—he slid me a note with a doodle of himself playing guitar and the words ‘Go out with me?’ written in giant letters.”

Mike blinked. “And you said no?”

“I thought it was a joke!” you admitted, laughing. “But then he kept trying. The second time, he serenaded me in the hallway with an original song.”

“It was a ballad,” Eddie clarified, his tone mock-serious. “A masterpiece, really.”

“And the third time,” you finished, “he showed up outside my house with a mixtape and a bouquet of daisies he picked from someone’s yard.”

“Old Mrs. Cunningham’s yard, to be specific,” Eddie added.

“By then, I figured he was either crazy or serious—or both.” You glanced at Eddie, your eyes softening. “Turns out, he’s a little bit of both. And I like that about him.”

The boys stared at you, utterly speechless.

“She’s way too good for you,” Gareth finally muttered, breaking the silence.

Eddie smirked. “Yeah, well, she’s mine anyway.”

As the session began, you settled in beside Eddie, watching him transform into the Dungeon Master with an enthusiasm that was both endearing and infectious. He narrated with dramatic flair, his hands gesturing wildly as he painted vivid scenes of danger and intrigue.

You leaned in, whispering, “He’s really into this, huh?”

“Always,” Dustin whispered back, his eyes glued to Eddie. “It’s like his second language.”

Eddie caught the exchange and narrowed his eyes. “Hey, no side commentary from the peanut gallery. This is serious business.”

You laughed, resting your chin on your hand as you watched him. “Sorry, Dungeon Master. Please, carry on.”

He shot you a mock-glare before continuing, guiding the boys through a harrowing encounter with a group of marauding orcs. As the dice rolled and the boys strategized, their initial awe at your presence slowly gave way to curiosity.

“So,” Lucas asked during a lull in the action, “how do you put up with him?”

“Put up with him?” You raised an eyebrow.

“You know, the dramatics, the weirdness, the constant ‘I’m a misunderstood genius’ vibe.”

Eddie gasped, clutching his chest. “Lucas Sinclair, you wound me!”

“Don’t listen to him,” you said, smiling. “I think it’s sweet. Eddie’s passionate, and he’s not afraid to be himself. That’s rare.”

Eddie shot the group a smug grin. “Hear that? She thinks I’m rare. Like a collector’s item.”

“More like a one-of-a-kind weirdo,” Dustin muttered, earning a laugh from the group.

At one point during the game, Eddie reached under the table and took your hand, his fingers lacing with yours. It was a small gesture, but it sent warmth flooding through you.

“You okay?” he whispered, leaning close.

“More than okay,” you whispered back. “This is fun.”

“Good,” he said, his eyes soft. “Because I’m pretty sure you’ve just earned legendary status in their eyes.”

You glanced at the boys, who were busy arguing about the best way to approach the next encounter. “They’re sweet,” you said. “A little intense, but sweet.”

“They grow on you,” Eddie said with a grin.

“I can see that.”

By the end of the session, the boys were visibly more comfortable around you, their initial awe replaced with a sense of camaraderie. They peppered you with questions about your classes, your favorite bands, and how on earth Eddie convinced you to date him.

As the group packed up, Dustin pulled Eddie aside.

“Dude,” he said, his voice low. “She’s amazing.”

“I know,” Eddie said, grinning.

“No, like, amazing,” Dustin repeated. “You’d better not screw this up.”

Eddie chuckled, clapping Dustin on the shoulder. “Relax, Henderson. I’ve got this.”

Across the room, you were chatting with Lucas and Mike, who were eagerly showing you their character sheets. Eddie watched the scene unfold, his heart swelling with pride. You fit in perfectly, like you’d always been part of the group.

As you caught Eddie’s gaze, you smiled and mouthed, “I love you.”

Eddie’s grin widened. He mouthed back, “I love you more.”

And in that moment, surrounded by his friends and the girl who had completely stolen his heart, Eddie Munson felt like the luckiest man alive.

The Hellfire Club session transitioned into a scene of pure chaos as the boys dove into a heated debate about their next move in the campaign. Eddie had unleashed a particularly devious trap—a dungeon filled with shifting walls and riddles—and while the group bickered about how to proceed, you found yourself completely enthralled by the dynamic.

“Okay, but if we trigger the trap,” Dustin argued, pointing emphatically at his map, “we’re dead! It’s a bad idea!”

“And if we don’t?” Mike shot back. “Then we’re just standing here waiting for something to kill us anyway!”

Lucas groaned, throwing his hands up. “Why do you always pick the most dangerous options, Mike?”

“It’s not dangerous; it’s bold! There’s a difference.”

As they continued to argue, you leaned toward Eddie, your voice low. “Do they always get this… intense?”

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, sweetheart, this is nothing. You should see them when someone loses all their hit points. Last week, Dustin almost cried because a gelatinous cube ate his enchanted dagger.”

Dustin’s head whipped around, clearly having heard. “It wasn’t just a dagger! It was my soulblade! And Gareth laughed at me!”

“Because it was funny!” Gareth shot back, smirking.

Eddie laughed, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. “See? Total chaos.”

You smiled, loving every second of it. Their passion reminded you of why you adored Eddie in the first place. He wasn’t afraid to throw himself into the things he loved, and it was clear his friends were the same.

“Alright, alright,” Eddie finally called, raising his hands to silence the room. “Enough squabbling, my dear nerds. Your time is ticking. Decide your fate or perish in the dungeon!”

Dustin sighed dramatically, leaning toward you. “You see what we have to deal with? He’s a tyrant.”

“And yet you keep coming back,” you teased.

“Because we’re dedicated to the craft,” Dustin replied with mock seriousness.

“Because you’re gluttons for punishment,” Eddie corrected, smirking.

As the game carried on, the boys became more comfortable interacting with you, even inviting you to roll dice for certain decisions. When Eddie handed you a 20-sided die and asked you to roll for an attack, Dustin immediately objected.

“Wait, wait, wait!” he exclaimed, holding up his hands. “She’s not a member of Hellfire! She can’t just roll!”

“Excuse me?” Eddie said, feigning offense. “She’s my guest. She has honorary dice privileges.”

Lucas chimed in, grinning. “Only if she rolls well. If she messes this up, it’s on you, Eddie.”

You took the die from Eddie, holding it delicately between your fingers. “No pressure, huh?”

Eddie leaned in, his voice soft and teasing. “Don’t worry, babe. I have full faith in you.”

With everyone watching, you rolled the die, and it tumbled across the table in dramatic fashion before landing on a perfect 20.

The room exploded.

“No freaking way!” Dustin shouted, practically falling out of his chair.

“She’s got beginner’s luck!” Mike declared, throwing his hands in the air.

Eddie grinned, looking at you like you’d just won the lottery. “That’s my girl!”

You laughed, feeling a little embarrassed but proud nonetheless. Eddie wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as the boys continued to marvel at your roll.

“Looks like I’ve got a natural,” he teased, his eyes sparkling.

“Maybe I should join the club,” you said with a sly smile.

Dustin immediately panicked. “Wait, wait, wait—no offense, but we can’t just let anyone join! There’s a whole initiation process and—”

Eddie cut him off with a laugh. “Relax, Henderson. She’s not taking your spot. Yet.”

By the end of the night, the campaign wrapped up with the group narrowly escaping the dungeon thanks to your lucky roll. As the boys packed up their books and dice, they couldn’t stop talking about you.

“Okay, so, I’ll admit,” Gareth said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “She’s cool. Way cooler than you, Munson.”

“Obviously,” Eddie replied, grinning as he helped you gather your things.

Dustin, still looking slightly awestruck, turned to you. “You’re, like… actually amazing. I don’t know how Eddie tricked you into dating him, but, uh… good job, I guess?”

You smiled. “Thanks, Dustin. But for the record, Eddie didn’t trick me. He’s a good guy.”

“Yeah, but, like…” Dustin looked between you and Eddie, gesturing vaguely. “He’s Eddie.”

“And I’m me,” you said, slipping your arm through Eddie’s. “We’re a good match, don’t you think?”

The boys exchanged skeptical looks, but none of them argued.

As you and Eddie headed out, walking hand-in-hand toward his van, he stopped suddenly and turned to face you.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft, “I think you broke their brains tonight.”

You laughed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Maybe a little. But they’re great. I see why you love them.”

“They’re my weird little family,” he admitted.

“And now I’m part of it,” you said with a smile.

“Yeah,” Eddie murmured, his eyes locking with yours. “You are.”

He pulled you into a hug, holding you close as the cool night air swirled around you. For all his theatrics, Eddie had a quiet side—a side that adored you in ways he couldn’t always put into words.

“I love you, you know,” he said softly, his voice muffled against your hair.

“I know,” you replied, smiling against his chest. “I love you too, Eddie Munson. Even if you are a little crazy.”

“Crazy about you,” he quipped, pulling back to wink at you.

You rolled your eyes, laughing as he opened the van door for you. As you climbed in, you couldn’t help but think about how far Eddie had come—from the school’s misunderstood freak to the boy who had your heart and a group of friends who adored him.

As he slid into the driver’s seat and cranked up the stereo, Metallica blasting through the speakers, you leaned back and smiled. Life with Eddie was unpredictable, chaotic, and wildly unconventional.

#black reader #interracial #black!reader #x black reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #hellfire club

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whenalltheeyesopen · 2 days ago

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At this point @jellyskink has shown Ford losing no fewer than three separate pet shows, so I made a followup to the fic where Irene drives him home while he's having an abandonment-related mental breakdown.

Enjoy! (AO3 cross-post)

Irene paced three steps along the hall runner. She tapped the little ivy leaf that marked the midpoint, turned, walked back.

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever done," she said out loud to the empty hallway.

Then she picked up her phone and made a call.

---

Dr. Ibis almost didn't answer. Dr. Irene Oleander was a nice enough woman, but a call from her so soon before one of his regular appointments with that patient was a guaranteed migraine. It was fine when she was just requesting his most recent x-rays, but sometimes she called to tell him that she had found flesh-eating worms in the man's gums and to please be careful in case Bill Cipher had been denying his favorite pet medicine access.

Whatever this was, it would be just as unpleasant tomorrow. It was probably important, possibly time sensitive. Sometimes, the migraine needs must be endured.

"Hello, Irene," he said.

"Yusuf. How are you doing?"

"Fairly well." He gave the file on his computer screen a quick once-over. "Busy with work. I assume you're calling for business?"

There was nothing but the white noise of a poor connection.

"...Hello?"

"I'm here," Oleander confirmed. She sounded uncomfortable. "This is going to sound extremely strange, but I wanted to ask you a favor."

Ibis raised an eyebrow, even though she couldn't see. He tried to make sure the humor was obvious in his inflection: "I hope we aren't on such bad terms that a favor is outlandish to ask."

"No, no, it's just- it's an outlandish favor."

Ibis hummed. "Irene," he said, "does it by any chance have anything to do with a certain mutual patient?"

To his chagrine, she did not respond immediately.

He sighed loudly. "Just tell me what it is."

"Is there a custom trophy shop near you?"

"A what?"

"A trophy shop, or a place that does etchings or something."

"Uh-" he had never had cause to investigate, but he was pretty sure the print shop did tchotchkes. "I think so?"

"Right. Um." Oleander made a strange noise. "Um, so, after your last appointment, you asked me to try and get Dr. Pines to start flossing regularly since he hadn't been listening to you. And I did talk to him, and last I saw him he said he had been."

"Well that's peachy," Ibis said drily. "He eats nothing but organ meat and candy with as far as I can tell a side helping of stainless steel deadbolts. But at least he's flossing."

"Believe me, I'm fighting that same battle," Oleander said. There was real anger in her voice. She was much more invested than Ibis in the lost cause that was patient health.

Static again.

"Alright," she said. "Can you, um. This is going to sound stupid. Can you make him a trophy for it."

Ibis almost couldn't believe his ears. "For flossing?"

"I know it's ridiculous."

"Ridiculous doesn't begin to cover it."

"I'll pay you back for the cost, and - I don't know, I'll buy you dinner or something. Or owe you a favor."

Ibis glanced over at his computer again. He did some mental timesheet math.

"Yusuf?"

"I'm thinking."

"Please. I know it's dumb, but he's had a really bad... Uh, series of encounters."

"Yes, I saw them on TV."

Oleander's voice went quiet while she swore away from the receiver. "You were watching."

"I thought it might be fun to see how Calimari did."

"That's... Very sweet of you."

"I found Cipher's entries infinitely more entertaining."

"You-" Oleander cut her own furious response off, apparently remembering that she wanted Ibis to owe her a favor. "Will you help me cheer him up or not?"

"Well," Ibis said, "you do have a way with insurance companies."

"You want me to do your insurance coding for you???"

About eight hours of it, in fact. "If you want me to cheer up your sad little man."

"Yusuf, I swear-"

"Deal or no deal?"

She went silent again. She was definitely fuming at him.

"...Deal."

"Fantastic."

"Thank you."

"I hope you have a marvelous day, Irene."

"You too."

"I'll send you the relevant documents."

"Lovely."

He logged out if his computer. He stretched his shoulders, stiff from too much desk jockying, and headed out the door.

Maybe flossing trophies would enter his normal hygiene support system after this.

#Dr. Irene Oleander #Jellyskink #domesticated ford au #domesticated ford #Fanfiction #Dr. Yusuf Ibis

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st4rfckerz · 2 days ago

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you and sarah reminisce on some old memories

Sarah’s room felt like a time capsule, its soft baby blue walls still dotted with the glow-in-the-dark stars she stuck up years ago. The same faintly floral scent of her favorite candles lingered in the air, and her bed— its mismatched blankets piled high, it felt just as warm and familiar as ever. You laid together side by side, staring up at the ceiling as if the answers to life’s biggest questions might appear there.

Sarah rolled onto her side, propping her head up with her hand as she looked at you with that familiar spark in her eyes. “Do you remember how we used to have sleepovers almost every weekend?” she said, her voice soft and tinged with nostalgia. “It didn’t even matter what was going on, we’d beg our parents to let us stay over, and we’d just spend the whole night talking about the most random stuff.” She let out a small laugh, her gaze drifting toward the ceiling. “Half the time, we didn’t even sleep. We’d just stay up giggling until one of us got in trouble for being too loud.”

You smiled, the memories flooding back like they’d happened yesterday. “And how we always ended up sharing the same bed?” you continued, a grin spreading across your face.

Sarah nods. “Mhm, we definitely got cozy back then.” A mischievous glint appears in her eye as she recalls one specific memory, one you hoped she’d never bring up again. Your heart immediately started racing, and you felt your cheeks flush a deep red. “Oh my God, Sarah.” you started, already flustered.

“What?” she asked innocently, though her smirk said otherwise. “I’m just saying, someone got all shy after-”

“You kissed me first!” you blurted out, your voice louder than you intended. Sarah rolls her eyes playfully at your wide-eyed expression. “Oh come on, don't look so shocked! Girls kiss each other all the time.” She sits up, crossing her legs and leaning towards your body conspiratorially. You groaned in mortification and pulled a pillow over your face, hoping to disappear into the fabric and never come out.

Gently, her hands tugged at the pillow, moving it from your face entirely. She smiled, leaning closer until her lips brushed yours in a soft, deliberate kiss. “See? It’s not so bad.” she whispered before kissing you again.

Sarah smiles against your lips as the kiss deepens. Her hands slide up your sides, fingers grazing the soft skin beneath your tank top. She presses closer, pinning you to the mattress as your tongues tangle together. Her hips grind slowly against yours, the friction sending tingles through her body. Sarah breaks the kiss, panting softly as she gazes down at your flushed face. “We can keep going if you want.” You nod eagerly.

She gently takes your hand and guides it beneath the waistband of her shorts, letting you feel how wet she’s gotten. “You feel that?” Sarah purrs, subtly grinding her hips against your hand.

“Wait,” Sarah stands up abruptly, her eyes sparkling like a lightbulb had just gone off in her head. Before you could ask what she was doing, she slipped off her shorts and panties, tossing them aside with zero hesitation. “Take these off,” your heart raced, unsure of what exactly she had in mind. Sarah’s eyes hungrily roam over your body as you remove your own shorts. “You’re gonna love this, just follow me.”

Sarah grins wickedly as she spreads your legs wider, exposing your glistening pussy. “Look at you, so needy already," she coos, circling your clit with a feather-light touch, relishing the way you squirm and gasp beneath her ministrations.

Sarah positions herself over your lower half, your slick folds pressing together. She begins to move her hips, sliding her aching pussy against yours in a slow, sensual grind. “Oh fuck…” she moans, relishing the delicious friction.

“That's it, just like that,” she exhales shakily. “Wanna make you cum so bad," Sarah growls as she starts grinding harder, faster. “Been such a good friend all these years, you deserve it.” Her hands roam your body, tweaking your nipples and kneading your tits as you rock together. Sarah leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth and desperate need.

Your hips buck wildly, chasing your impending release. “So close- don't stop," you pant, voice ragged with pleasure. Her fingers dig into your hips, holding you tight as she keeps the frenzied rhythm of her pelvis.

“Cum with me, I wanna feel it.” she commands. Sarah throws her head back with a guttural moan, hips jerking erratically as her orgasm crashes over her. As you both come down from your highs, she collapses onto you, your sweaty bodies tangled together.

“See? I knew you’d like it.” Sarah murmurs, pressing soft kisses along your jawline. After a moment, Sarah lifts her head to gaze at you with another mischievous glint in her eye.

“So...you think this means we're gonna start having sleepovers again?”

#nai writes ୨୧ #sarah cameron #sarah cameron x reader #sarah cameron x female reader #sarah cameron x you #madelyn cline #obx #outer banks #st4rfckerz

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zealouswitchwerewolf · 3 days ago

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Head canon that all the bats are actually pretty decent cooks but only under very specific circumstances.

Bruce: if Alfred is anywhere near, he'll burn water. He can however cook for 15+ people, if he tries for any less he ends up overusing salt/sugar/spices and the food ends up inedible. Whenever Alfred has the day off, he secretly cooks for his kids while pretending he's just reheating Alfred's dishes. Curiously, they all usually find excuses to show up at the manor when Alfred isn't there, even Jason.

Dick: will not cook for himself even if he has to eat raw pasta. However, if one of his siblings is coming over or they ask for a snack he can make mostly healthy food with the most random ingredients that no one else would have put together. It's usually pretty good.

Jason: can't cook with people in his kitchen. He needs space. The exception is Alfred. Tim has taken to hiding in random places in the kitchen to see how long he can stay without Jason kicking him out. His best spot is top of the fridge, almost beaten by the time he hid inside a floating cabinet and it ended up caving to his weight and dropping him on top of the sauce Jason was making (luckily not yet on the stove).

Tim: only cooks when the recipe has precise measurements of each ingredient (mg/ml instead of cups/tbsp). Proceeds to completely ignore his recipe and ends up with a completely different thing, usually opposite of what he was making, still tastes like he had used the recipe for the final thing.

Cass: cooks based on vibes only so most of the time she's the only one who can eat her concoction, mostly using ingredients that require her to dance and contort around the kitchen at the beat of whatever music she's listening to or just whatever. That being said, her food improves drastically if someone's in the kitchen with her, out of her way but watching, cause then she bases her measurements and ingredients in body language and her proportions end up being incredibly accurate.

Steph: can make anything that requires batter and make it be the best thing you've ever tasted. So waffles, crepes, pancakes, some cookies, cake, etc. Anything other than that will end up on fire. Funnily enough, she can also make incredible fillings that have an uncanny resemblance to some of her previous ashen attempts.

Duke: can cook in the dark without making a mess. He's also a pretty decent cook in general but he somehow leaves piles of dirty pans/dishes whenever he's seen cooking, no matter how simple his dish is.

Damian: can only cook with the recipe or someone (Dick specifically but sometimes Alfred) guiding him. His favorite food is the one traditional from the league, specifically the recipes Talia gave him when he went to Gotham. He wants them to be exactly as his mother intended so he won't deviate from the recipe in the slightest. It's special to him. Just as it's special to cook with Richard and getting to learn his favorite foods from before Bruce took him in. He might or might not either write the recipe after each time he cooks with Richard and ask clarifying questions like "what do you mean measure with your heart? How many tablespoons is that? No, I didn't see, you covered my eyes and told me to 'trust the process'"

Bonus: Alfred has the skill of spoiling the food of people he deeply dislikes while making the rest of it completely perfect for everyone else. Even if it's all cooking in the same pot. He's gotten so good at it he doesn't even do it consciously anymore and forgets he's doing it. It still gets the point across though. Interestingly enough, each of the bats partners have gotten shitty food from Alfred at least once (either shovel talk style or because they did something mean to their respective bat or wtv), they can't even say anything cause all the bats will just look at them like they're being crazy because Alfred could never while Alfred smirks at them from the opposite side of the room.

#batman #bruce wayne #tim drake #batfam #Jason Todd #alfred pennyworth #damian wayne #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #dick grayson #cooking as a language #rambles

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theoisdaydreaming · 19 hours ago

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So tomorrow drops arcane's last three episodes and since I'm delusional here's my idea of how the story will end (highly unlikely however, so imagine more an AU were everyone is happy and no one died + timebomb bc I want and I can)

The writers don't hate us AU :D

A familiar tune echoed among the last drop's walls, the bar, now slightly run-down from the years but filled with life like never before, hosted it's new owners inside the warm lit room, where a blue haired girl gently rocked her hips, leaning against the well used jukebox.

Jinx closed her eyes and smiled at the nostalgic sound; it was her mom's favorite song.

Despite being too young to remember a lot about her, jinx's childhood had been filled with stories about her, as to not completely forget her, thanks to Vander and Vi. The music played slow, it was nostalgic and it remembered her of a happy place; where three revolutionaries once drank in the bar, three, much younger ones stood now.

"haven't heard that one in a while" an amused voice chimed from behind the bar counter.

"thought it was fitting" jinxed smiled, as she stepped back and started to gently away her body.

"it is" Vi responded with a happy sigh as she hold up another glass cup to clean.

It was exiting, to behold a sight like this; the last drop almost back in its original state, free from neon party lights, it's well-loved wood chairs and tables back where they were supposed to be, some of silco's decorations still hanging in the walls at her sister's request, but most of its coziness from back when Vander owned the place back.

She also took sometime to admire the newly acquired photos placed above the counter, Jinx, ekko and her, the day they opened the last drop's doors again, some disheveled members of the revolution grinning to the camara with food on the table and several stages of drunk, some sporting the now familiar jinxer look, more photos of jinx, now with Isha, another one wich she took with her, jinx, Isha and a crouched down Vander to be seen in the frame, but most importantly, the flag that hanged to the side, unmoving due the lack of wind but still standing proud, to be seen by everyone that entered the bar. The nation of Zaun's flag. The independent nation of Zaun. The thought made her smile.

The entrance door then, suddenly bursted open, a dark skinned man carrying some heavy looking boxes, wich obscured most of his view.

"hey, you back with the supplies little man?" Violet looked up to see ekko struggling with the door.

"need help with that?" Jinx asked not bothering to stop her slow dance, only turning to her boyfriend's direction still swaying her arms, throwing a cheeky smile to ekko while now throwing her arms up as the chorus starts. Her motion emphasizing her swollen belly in her already small frame.

"you're not carrying anything remotely heavier than a gun while pregnant, Jinx" ekko said, rightly scandalized.

"okey, okey, I was just offering!" the girl answered, holding her hands up in surrender.

"don't act innocent, I saw you serving customers drinks the other day" Vi jokingly glared at her while approaching ekko to take some of the boxes in her hands. "you're not supposed to be working!"

"I know" jinx whined dramatically "but the place is bursting with people ever since we opened up, I have to help some way!" She pouted.

She was right, ever since the big battle ended the last drop became a safe place for all of Zaun's fighters, even months after they won, the place was flooded with comrades; people that fought along side them,that were lead by jinx and moved by her cause. Either way, business was growing rapidly, most people wanting to revel in their new found independence; they had to restock half the place when the celebration ended, they even had to leave mid party to run for more supplies i.e. alcohol and other beverages.

With only the three of them running the place and the occasional help of Isha, who mostly served tables, and Vander being way too big to properly fit, less move freely inside the bar, they could use all the help they had.

"just take it easy" Vi rolled her eyes at her sister.

Vi and ekko set down the boxes down while jinx came closer to the bar.

"I'm not serving you anything" Violet quickly said.

"I know that, silly" Jinx sat down.

Ekko then sat besides her while Vi took place behind the counter, whipping something and serving it Infront of ekko, who was being looked at with jealousy by his knocked up partner.

"don't worry brought you juice" he looked bemused at her.

"bummer" the blue haired girl responded but still accepted the glass that Vi offered, the same one she always used, that was probably a hundred years old and it looked like it too but never changed it, from back when she was younger and Vander still served her, to when the place switched to being silco's and he discreetly threatened the new bartender into keeping it, to now.

"cheer up, baby, just a couple more months to go"

"I know,,, as much as anxious and moody I've been, I so excited" she looked down and smiled at her drink. "They're going to arrive to a new nation and a dysfunctional yet loving family"

"they will grow in the city we are building, jinx, the city we fought for" ekko caressed his lover's hand reassuringly. "We will make sure this place turns into the best a baby could ever be born in"

Jinx could only give ekko's hand a firm squeeze, admittedly, having a baby in the middle of re building a whole nation after several long lasting battles, that even though they were found to be victorious, lead to an incredible amount of damage control to be done, was not easy. In the midst of everything, however, was ekko, her anchor of hope, he who saved Isha, and indirectly her, from going off the deep end, shattering the fabric of time, just for her; her boy savior.

"a toast, then!" Vi bounced up, the only other two people at the other side of the counter looking startled at her, but quickly recovering and piking up their respective glasses of beer and juice alike.

The pink haired woman taking a whole bottle instead of serving herself and dirtying another cup lifted her drink.

"to us, for keeping the dreams of the ones before us, to them, for inspiring us" she lifted her bottle higher and looked at the eyes of her sister, Jinx.

"And to the nation Zaun's first independent baby, and the ones that will come after"

The older woman swinged at the bottle, the two lovers following suit. Three people, the ones that started it and the ones that finished it, laughing and drinking, celebrating the life that is to come, the future shining brightly in the shape of an itty bitty baby.

"our love, our love, our love, our love" the voices sang as the music faded out.

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