#soda is wood confirmed

[shybunnie20]

BFF!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

friends to lovers

★Locations ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie calls on you to help him plan his first date, and you wish that you were the one going on it with him.

Author's Note: This isn't quite as polished as I'd like it to be. But, I'm pushing through my last few weeks of college, so I'm working with the few brain cells I've got left lol. I still love how it turned out and the ending is worth all of the self-loathing, I promise.

No use of Y/N, est. friendship, ages aren’t specified but E & R are approx. in their early twenties & it’s an early 90s AU, Reader has never been asked on a date before. Mild angst with happy ending!

Word count: 8.9k

Warnings: Reader dwells on poor self-worth & feels undesirable, acts of eating and multiple mentions of food, includes swearing.

Nestled in the quaint corner of Campbell Ave and 2nd Street, you’re engrossed in a call with a customer, jotting down an order for two bouquets consisting of pink-white lilies and snapdragons. Your eyes follow the effortless glide of your glitter gel pen across the paper, detailing their contact information.

Similarly to Goldilocks, you’ve found a place of employment where the pace is just right. You can handle whatever tasks Joan, the owner, asks of you. Sweeping the wood floors with a stiff-bristled broom, tending to the plants, and arranging flowers adorned with decorative ribbon and crisp paper are all within your grasp.

This place gets steady business, but the concept of a lunch or dinner rush is nonexistent. However, you do face a unique kind of rush occasionally. Now and then, a frantic lover bursts through the doors, bug-eyed, having realized they’ve forgotten a special anniversary or birthday at the very last minute. 

As you recite the customer’s order and callback number into the phone’s receiver, their confirmational “uh huhs” cut through the buzz of the line. Suddenly, your attention is diverted by the sight of a van pulling into the parking spot out front, slightly askew. A small smile teases the corners of your mouth as you make a conscious effort to refocus on closing the conversation at hand.

The plastic shell of the phone clacks as you hang up, and you watch Eddie hop out of his van, and round the front of it with an unusual pep in his step—more than you’d see his best days.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Eddie’s voice carries across the room, accompanied by a genuine smile that lights up his face. He strides to the register counter you’re currently manning, wearing a vermillion polo shirt embellished with the neatly embroidered String and Strum shop logo on the breast. His hair is pushed back from his face with a black bandana, resembling a biker-like edge, tied firmly to ensure no stray curls disrupt his work as he repairs guitars and sells instruments for commission.

In seconds flat, he’s already scrunching his nose like a bunny, sensing a sneeze on the horizon. Being in a room packed with fresh plants is nothing short of hell, but he’s willing to endure it for the sake of seeing you. While he can handle flowers in small quantities, the confined space never fails to tickle his system like nobody’s business.

Vision blurring with mild irritation, Eddie blinks hard to disperse it. “Hey, how’s today going?”

You shrug, suppressing a giggle at the wiggle of his nose. “As good as it can, I guess. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Eddie sets a grease-stained paper bag on the counter that separates you, along with a cup of soda. “Figured you could use a midday pick-me-up.”

“Must be my lucky day because I overslept and didn’t have time to pack a lunch. Well, that and I found a penny on the sidewalk.”

Eddie crosses his arms and tilts his head. “Don’t give luck all the credit. I have instinctual powers, y’know. My Munson senses were tingling and I knew you were in need.”

“My hero,” You exclaim, clasping your hands and swinging them to the side like a swooning princess. 

Eddie chuckles with you, watching as you wipe your palms on your apron and eagerly dig into the bag, pulling out a foam to-go box. As you promptly open it and take a bite of your lunch, you can’t help but groan and throw your head back in satisfaction. Your eyes meet his thereafter, causing him to twist his mouth to the side and momentarily look away.

“How much do I owe you?” You ask, your words slightly muffled as you continue to chew.

Minnie, Joan’s cat, gracefully leaps onto the counter to greet Eddie. She perches herself beside the cash register, allowing him to scratch under her chin. “Nothin, consider it a favor,” He says with a wet sniffle, the tingling in his nose unrelenting.

The silence that falls is comfortable for you, but he’s seemingly lost in his thoughts as he continues to pet Minnie. Then, he looks at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Speaking of which, I just so happen to know a way that you can return the favor.”

Having taken a sip from your drink and another bite of your food, the inflection of Eddie’s voice causes you to slow your chewing. “And what might that be?”

“Come over later to find out.”

Your shoulders slump, eyes widened with mock defeat. “No! I can’t stand here and wonder all day. I'll die. The suspense will kill me.”

Eddie pouts mockingly, his sweet honey eyes betraying his faux-frown. “Then I'll be sure to have the prettiest floral arrangement for your funeral. Only the best for you.”

Your brows knit together in an authentic pouting. The irony of needing to meet an untimely demise to receive flowers from a guy isn’t lost on you.

He motions toward the untrimmed bundle of carnations on the workbench behind you. “Actually, if you’re not too busy,” Eddie smirks. “Could you string those up for me quick so they’re ready to go for your wake?”

“Ha-ha,” you leer, taking the next bite of your food rather aggressively. “You’re cruel, you know that?”

“I beg to differ since I surprised you with your favorite from Val’s and all,” Eddie retorts, biting the inside of his cheek.

You grumble, “Yeah, and it’s fucking delicious.”

Eddie checks his watch and huffs, “Alright, I’ve gotta get goin’,” he says, rapping his knuckles on the countertop and beginning to walk backward. “See you later tonight,” He points at you before spinning on his heel and exiting the shop.

The bulky keyring on Eddie’s jeans jingles loudly as he steps onto the sidewalk. Abruptly, he stops in his tracks. For a moment he’s frozen, and then he braces himself against the nearby lamppost. It hits him like a brick wall and he sneezes mightily. 

Heads of nearby passersby turn in his direction, startled by the noise. As he straightens his posture, Eddie remains still, trying to find his center of gravity and regain his composure.

“You good?” You call out, your voice just barely reaching him through the propped-open doors. Taking a casual sip of your drink, you watch as Eddie steadies himself. Still clutching the street lamp with one hand, he manages to stick his other arm out and give a thumbs-up.

True to your word, you arrive at Eddie’s place straight after work. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow through the patio door onto the walls of the living room. The apartment is in its usual state of disarray, expectedly so, since it’s home to three guys who aren’t particularly concerned with tidiness.

Toeing off your shoes, you’re unphased by the subtle smell of dust in the air. What strikes you as odd is how quiet it is. Typically, at least one roommate is home, blasting the TV in the living room or music from their respective bedrooms. But the only sound permeating the silence is the erratic thumping and screech of the water pipes behind the paper-thin walls of the bathroom.  

As you snoop around the kitchen, hoping to find a box of saltine crackers or really anything to stop the gurgling in your belly. Having come up empty-handed, you turn your attention to the resilient plant that you challenged Eddie to care for—Keanu Leaves, as he so proudly named it. 

Finished with your fruitless search of the kitchen, you make your way into Eddie’s bedroom to settle comfortably into the chair that only you sit in; it’s your spot. While you get cozy, the beans rattle as they perfectly mold to your figure. You knock on the wall beside you, signaling your arrival to Eddie.

You resume the magazine left sitting open on the page you stopped on. You occupy yourself in the article about predicted spring fashion trends as you wait. After a minute or two, the pipes go quiet from the shower being turned off.

Eddie strolls into the room wearing nothing more than a clean pair of boxers. Droplets of water trickle down his toned and tatted chest. Harshly ruffling his curls with a bath towel, he smirks at you. “If it isn’t Little Miss Zombie, back from the dead.”

“Less than alive and in the flesh,” you reply, your annoyance at being made to wait all day still evident. You hold grudges better than anyone he knows, and Eddie is well aware that he’s not immune to being subject to it.

Your tummy rumbles loudly, the discomfort only emphasizing the sharpness of your tone. “When was the last time you got groceries? I didn’t see any preserved brains I could help myself to.”

“I’m definitely due for a restock,” Eddie says as he drapes his wet towel over the back of his desk chair. Then, he grabs the bottle of mousse from his dresser and dispenses a foamy dollop into his palm. “Funny you should ask, though. That’s sorta why you’re here.”

You flip the page of your magazine, not pulling your eyes from the glossy print. “You told me to come over to go grocery shopping?”

Eddie rubs his palms together to spread the product and then runs his fingers through his curls. “Not quite,” he starts, his tone cryptic. “I’ve been tasked with providing a meal, of sorts.” 

Finally, you look up at him. Watching him scrunch his damp hair with the remainder of the product that’s making his palms go tacky, you wait for him to elaborate.

Eddie’s eyes flit to the other side of the room, rather than meeting your awaiting gaze. “I have a date.”

You stare blankly at the back of his head, as still as a statue while your blinking intensifies. Dumbfounded, you struggle to survive the bombshell he just dropped on you. It’s as if a nuclear explosion has shattered your eardrums, leaving his continued words to sound muffled through the high-pitched ringing.

A million and one questions swirl in your mind, only adding to the disorienting whirlwind of emotions. Since when is he dating? Why all of a sudden? As you try to piece everything together, you note that he hasn’t had any recent romantic interactions, at least none that you’re aware of.

You always thought he’d confide in you if he was seeing someone, but now you’re not so sure; especially since you’re only finding out about this now. Without a doubt, Eddie has never had trouble attracting attention. But he’s always seemed so content with the ways things are. So why now?

Eddie turns to face you, a splash of desperation in his eyes. “I feel like doing this is the best way to know if she likes me back.”

Your mouth has gone dry, and you try to sound more curious than interrogative, but it doesn’t quite come off that way. “Who is this mystery woman, anyway?” A couple of names come to mind, some of the most beautiful girls in town—none of whom you hold a candle to.

His side of the room falls quiet when he’s hit with your question. Eddie’s eyes drop to the carpet. While it might seem like he’s lost in thought, it’s actually a glaring sign of evasion. You can’t help but feel a little hurt by his reluctance to tell you who it is.

A small smile forms as he leans back against his dresser, as though he can’t keep himself upright during his current daydream. Folding his arms across his pecs and rubbing his jaw, eyes still downcast, Eddie begins to gush about her. “She’s just- god, she’s something else. The way she laughs, it’s like... the sun coming out after a storm.”

“Sounds like quite the catch,” you mutter, trying to keep your tone neutral. You watch closely as blush tints Eddie’s cheeks and his smile threatens to grow. Without saying another word, Eddie walks out and returns to the bathroom.

You’re quick to follow, hopping up from your chair. “Do I know her?”

“Technically, yeah,” Eddie answers. Standing in front of the foggy mirror, he wipes it with the back of his forearm. Then, he starts rummaging through the counter drawer for his pair of shears.

You stand just outside the open door, the lingering humidity from his scorching hot shower kissing your skin as it disperses into the hallway. Leaning back against the wall, you cross your arms like he did moments ago, albeit far more tensely. Technically? It must be one of your ex-friends, then. That would explain why he’s been keeping you in the dark.

It’s your duty to be supportive, but right now, you could hurl. The thick nausea swirling deep in your gut is a storm raging within, overpowering your ability to stay present.

While trimming his bangs over the basin, the shears glint in the hushed light of the wall sconce. Eddie steals a glance in your direction, but his eyes dart back to his reflection too quickly to catch the discomfort etched on your face. “So you’ll help me, right?”

As you watch yourself anxiously wiggling your toes inside your sock, you mumble, “I can't if you won’t tell me who it is.“

“Sure you can, you’re a girl. You know how this stuff works.”

You scoff, your brows shooting up as your head jerks back. You open your mouth to object, but he promptly cuts you off.

“Ah, ah! Slow your roll,” Eddie cautions, pointing the shears in your direction. “I’m not saying you’re all the same, but there’s gotta be some common ground of expectations, right?”

You don’t have the strength to argue, so you reluctantly allow for his generalization. “I guess so.”

“Like yeah, I could just study one of those lady magazines you’re always reading. But then I wouldn’t have a way of knowing what is and isn’t bullshit,” Eddie explains, his tone half-joking. “That’s why I’m going straight to the source, oh, wise one.”

Far too consumed with trying to narrow down who the chick could possibly be, you can’t be bothered to give him a huff of amusement through your nose. “Can I at least have a hint?”

“Nope,” The shears hit the countertop, their metallic resonance echoing against the porcelain. He pivots to face you, hands resting on his hips. “Alright, Sherlock. How about you quit trying to crack the case and help me pick out a tie.”

“A what now?” You squawk, eyes widening in disbelief.

Eddie chuckles softly and rinses the hair trimmings down the drain, then flicks off the bathroom light. “I have to dress for the occasion. This is a big deal for me,” he elaborates as he strides back into his room. “For her and me.”

Once again, you find yourself on his tail, trailing close behind back into his bedroom. You unfold your arms and instead, start to rub the inside of your wrist with your opposite thumb. “Yeah, I get that. Just seems a bit out of character for you.”

Rifling through his closet, Eddie pulls out a hanger with a navy button-up shirt and nonchalantly tosses it onto the end of his bed. “Maybe, but at least she’ll know I’m taking this seriously,” Eddie says while reaching for the high shelf to retrieve a tattered shoebox. Lifting the lid, he presents it to you. “Here’s what we’re working with.”

You step closer, your fingers deftly plucking out the rolled ties one by one, laying them flat beside the slightly wrinkled shirt. Side by side, your shoulders nearly brush. Meticulously comparing the patterns and colors, neither of you seems drawn to any particular one.

“Here, maybe it’s better to do it this way,” Eddie suggests, picking up and beginning to slip into the shirt. His thick fingers falter as he attempts to maneuver each small white button through its corresponding hole. Once halfway dressed—having tastefully paired his plaid boxers with a dress shirt—he smooths out the material from his chest to his belly.

Eddie reaches for the nearest tie and lays it against his shoulder. He faces you expectantly, anticipation evident in his gaze, awaiting your feedback.

Your eyes flit between the tie he’s holding, the array laid out on the bed, and the hopefulness in his round eyes. “These are easily the three ugliest ties I've ever seen. No offense.”

He blows a playful raspberry at your harsh criticism and shakes his head. “None taken, they’re not mine. But Wayne might be a little hurt when I call him next and tell him you said that.”

Shooting him a pointed look, your brows furrow in skepticism. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I just might,” Eddie teases with a smile before turning his attention back to the bed. He tosses the first tie aside and reaches for the mustard paisley one. “What about this one, does it compliment my eyes?” He bats his dark brown lashes.

You clutch your chin in contemplation, carefully assessing the combination of hues. However, the richness of his chocolate irises captures you. You wade in their depths. The hot flash that envelops your body is enough to break the trance he inadvertently put you under. With a disapproving shake of your head, you dismiss this tie as well. “Nope, next.”

Eddie looks at you for a moment longer, even though you’re not doing the same. A faint frown creases his features as he tosses the vetoed tie aside, forming a rejection pile.

You pick up the remaining tie and drape it over his shoulder, admiring the harmonious pairing of the navy in the tie with the shirt, accentuated by its white and black diagonal stripes. While you ponder, Eddie watches your face intently, holding his breath.

You nod, a trace of delighted approval in your expression. “We have a winner.”

“Hell yeah, blue on blue it is,” Eddie exclaims. He wraps the tie around the back of his neck but struggles to recall the proper technique for tying it. Attempting a few different nonsensical loopings, he groans, his determination waning. “Stupid son of a bitch, wouldya just-”

“Don’t hurt yourself. Let me do it," You offer. Not receiving protest, you step closer to him.

Eddie uses one hand to gather his product-enhanced curls into a makeshift ball, allowing you to access the collar of his shirt. He juts out his freshly shaved chin, granting you ample room to work. Standing this closely, you catch the clean scent of shaving cream lingering on his skin.

You begin to effortlessly tie the knot. Without pausing to consider what you’re about to say, the words spill from your lips, “Why’re you asking for my opinion on stuff like this, anyway? You should be doing what you think she’ll like, not me.”

“You always know best,” Eddie’s expression softens to something more vulnerable. “When you’re taking the next step in a relationship, you want everything to be as perfect as it can be, y’know?”

It’s common sense to him. No one understands him like you do, making you the perfect person for navigating this nerve-wracking experience. But for you, it’s perplexing. You’ve never been on a proper, formal date. The idea of one remains an unfulfilled pipe dream. Yet, here you are, agreeing to help Eddie plan his.

Your only frame of reference comes from romance movies and horror stories of dates gone wrong recounted by your girlfriends. Of all the things you could be in the world, you find yourself an unassuming tree. Sturdy and dependable, sure. You serve your purpose. But you don’t captivate onlookers with blooming petals like flowers do. Instead, you take pride in your intricately branched personality, valuing it as your true strength that often goes overlooked.

Even so, it feels as though your traits fail to enchant others regardless; nobody seems willing. You go unnoticed, and you’ve come to terms with that.

Beautiful wildflowers get plucked from the ground and carried away to be cherished. Meanwhile, you simply exist, rooted in no man’s land, devoid of admirers. You may stand tall, but you’re easily overshadowed by what other women have to offer.

Perhaps this is why you like working at the flower shop. It’s somewhat cathartic to witness the delicate petals fall from time to time. It brings you a strange sense of satisfaction to hack away at their stems. The best part, though? While it’s a little twisted, you know that those flowers that dazzle in their pristine state are destined to wilt. They’ll shrivel and brown.

Whilst among your shared group of friends in public, you’ve witnessed Eddie getting nudged by one of the guys to direct his attention to a smoke show walking by. You watched as they bit their knuckles and exaggeratedly gawked. You don’t compare, it’s not even apples to oranges. It’s like… apples to rocks. A delicious, shiny fruit compared to you, mere clunky chunks of earth.

If life were an album, you’re the track that everyone skips within seconds of hearing the intro. Except for those rare moments when someone half-listens by accident and they resonate with you—that’s how you and Eddie became friends. He’d stumbled upon his new favorite song, one worth revisiting. What he sees in you is what everyone else overlooks.

Eddie is the only man on the face of the earth who treats you like you’re worth being around. Only an oddball would prefer to spend time lounging beneath the shade of a crooked tree instead of homing a rose in a crystal vase. That’s one thing you love about your best friend; he doesn’t make you feel like you fade into the background.

All fairytale cliché bullshit included, you want to be sought out in a crowd. You want to light up the room for someone. Much to your dismay, that can happen platonically too, and it has in this case.

If Eddie only knew how much the little moments matter to you—the ones where he makes you feel prioritized and valued. You know you’re not anything close to special or remarkable, but he always made you second guess that thought.

Obviously, you hadn’t meant to fall for him. It was kind of like catching a cold; one day, there was a tickle in the back of your throat that you didn’t usually feel. Unsuspecting, the days went on, and that sensation only worsened. You started to panic a little but ultimately continued to deny your worst thoughts.

Before you knew it, you were bedridden, bitten by the love bug. You didn’t go down without a fight. You thought that you could be strong and deny it access to your heart, but it had already invaded. So, all you could do was wait it out.

You tried to distance yourself, hoping to recover and act like nothing ever changed inside of you. But Eddie didn’t let you get too far away.

It wasn’t love at first sight, rather, a creeping plague. There was no swooning and giggling, no struggling to keep your hands to yourself. The change was undetectable. You were a frog in boiling water, unaware of the gradually rising temperature until it was far too late.

It wasn’t until your chest started to ache every time you said goodbye at the end of spending time together that you realized you were in too deep. You genuinely debated going to the doctor to get the pang checked out, but luckily you didn’t. Otherwise, you’d have wasted a good chunk of money to find out that you’re a lovesick idiot.

Unfortunately, this is an illness you’ve been stuck with since, and you’ve at least learned how to distract yourself from it. But when you fail to do so, your imagination wanders. Naturally, you’ve wondered if pressing a mere kiss to his cheek would burn everything to the ground.

The forbidden territory beckons, tempting you to envision breaking those unspoken agreed-upon rules that forbid things like hand-holding and cuddling. The two of you uphold mutual respect, adhering to the expectations of friendship. Both of you reserve that level of touch for expressions of romantic affection. Actions such as those have no place in a true friendship.

That’s the most confusing part of this for you. How did you manage to catch such strong feelings for him when you’ve not crossed any lines? Sure, he’s a tactile person; maybe that has something to do with it. Eddie makes physical contact with those he trusts, but it’s not like he’s hanging off of you at any given moment. You receive the same treatment as the others in his inner circle: a hand on the shoulder, a pat on the back, and a brief gripping of the forearm to get your attention.

You’re not supposed to want the touches to be more frequent, much less of a different nature. The line has to be drawn somewhere, and it’s been plainly drawn in the sand. You understand and accept that. But why, of all lines in the world, does it have to be this one that you want to cross so badly?

Most of your days aren’t all that miserable. But there are those days that are more difficult than the rest, though it’s not his fault. Last weekend, the two of you were at a mall, and some chick waved at him flirtily. He returned it immediately, though playfully enough that it was almost mocking. He was fucking around and had no intention of entertaining the idea of approaching her. Regardless, it was humbling for you, to say the least.

In that moment, the world reminded you that there’s a reason you walk at his side at a respectable distance, not tucked under his arm. If anything, it’s for the best. There’s a sense of liberation in admiring him without the burden of articulating your feelings. There’s no pressure to meet a girlfriend quota or live up to a higher standard. What Eddie expects of you now is what you’re capable of, and clearly, all that you’re good for. You’re good for filling the void, but apparently not so much anymore.

You’re not lustrous and aching to jump his bones, and you’re certainly not desperate enough to kiss him on a whim by not allowing yourself to overthink it. But perhaps you are just desperate enough that a man simply paying your emotions, interests, and existence of any mind can shackle you to him. That has to be what’s done you in; Eddie gives a shit about you.

In reality, there’s more to it than that. Eddie is selective about who and what he lets in. He doesn’t care for conformity and lack of individuality. The idea of blending in with the majority of society repulses him. You find the flawed aspects of the Munson doctrine fascinating and raw. He’s not perfect and Eddie doesn’t care what others think of him, to a degree.

Not unlike you, he’s complex. Eddie is anti-establishment but still prefers a bit of structure over chaos in his day-to-day life. He’s independent and cynical as hell, but he’s also appreciative of his support systems and isn’t ashamed to rely on them. He’s not much of a rule breaker nor is he rebellious, but he’ll happily stir up a little trouble in good fun if given the opportunity.

Eddie is a hypocrite in some ways and a walking contradiction in others. You love that he’s unapologetic about being that way. He owns it for the most part, and you admire that.

His presence overstays its welcome in your thoughts. You’ve often yearned for him to call you in the dead of night, admitting that he can’t sleep without the sound of your voice. Many times, you’ve fought the urge to do that. He owes you sleep, countless nights of it. It’s a debt that will never be repaid, an outstanding balance.

Despite the attempts at trying to talk yourself out of it, you still can’t bring yourself to stop loving him. Even as he’s actively pursuing someone else, you’re unable to shake this. You could be paralyzed from head to toe, and you’d still feel the love you have for him in your bones.

Once Eddie is officially with someone, he won’t have much time or energy left for you. The anticipation of being thrown aside for something new and far prettier has shattered your heart before any changes have occurred. Yet, any fragment of his presence surpasses total absence. The greed isn’t worth it, and you know you should be grateful for getting any piece of him at all.

The phrase fizzles on the tip of your tongue like a smoldering ember, threatening to sear through the muscle… I’m happy for you.

You should say it, but you can’t. Because if you did, that would be a blatant lie. It’s not even possessiveness that has you so bitter, it’s envy. You wish you were in her place.

“There,” you adjust the knot with a delicate tug, ensuring its tightness before letting the material slip through your fingers. Unable to meet his appreciative gaze, you offer a sad smile and take a half-step backward.

Your sigh, cleverly concealed as a deep breath, escapes as you settle back into your chair with a plop. “So, um,” you begin, picking at your cuticles absentmindedly. “Where are you taking her? Somewhere fancy?”

“Nah,” Eddie meticulously revamps his curls one final time in the mirror, wanting them to fall just right. Then, with great care, he tames his bangs to lay perfectly in place. “She’s gonna come over here. I thought it’d be more intimate. Besides, I can’t exactly swing a reservation right now. I’ve been tight on cash this week.”

Your fingers come to a halt, the stinging sensation apparent. Looking over at him, your eyes meet his in the reflection. “Ya big dummy, you shouldn’t have bought me lunch when that money could’ve gone toward buying her a nice dinner.”

“Don’t start with that shit,” Eddie warns as he digs through his dresser in search of pants to wear. “I’m happy to do that for you,” He adds, pulling a pair of dark jeans from the bottom drawer.

“It really did make my day, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Having donned his pants, he nears his desk where his black grommet belt lies on the floor. Eddie threads his belt through the loops of his jeans, the buckle jingling before he secures it in place. “I felt better knowing you were taken care of.”

It’s only now occurring to you what he’s implied, and you think how absurd it is for him to host a dinner when he’s culinarily challenged. “Wait, since when do you cook?”

“Oh, I don’t. But you do.”

“Hardly,” you scoff, downplaying your abilities. Placing your magazine back in your lap, you flip the page despite not having read it. Unexpectedly, you feel the urge to quell his enthusiasm, to set him up for failure by trying to poke holes in his plan. “I mean, food is one thing, but atmosphere is another. Aren’t the guys going to be here?”

Eddie moves the clutter on his desk around in a quest to find something. “I kicked them out for the night.”

Like a spear plunged into your chest, you swallow hard. Not only is he having a girl over for dinner, but he’s gone out of his way to guarantee privacy because he’s hoping to get lucky too. More than likely right there, on that very bed, feet away from you. The cramped twin-sized mattress, where they’ll inevitably be body to body.

He turns to you after locating what he was searching for, fastening the slightly fancier watch around his wrist; it only supersedes his casio due to it being analog, as opposed to digital. “I’ve been wanting to try that dish you keep raving about. You can teach me how to make it. Two birds, one stone.”

“It’s not difficult, you could handle the recipe,” You shrug away the opportunity to cook with him because the domesticity of it would more than likely kill you.

“I wanna do it together,” his voice softens, genuinely asking as nicely as he’s capable. “Please.”

“Sure, yeah,” you maintain your downcast gaze and slump back in the chair, wishing for a black hole to open and swallow you up. “What if she doesn’t like it, or what if you don’t?”

“If you like it then it has to be good.”

Eddie’s seemingly endless compliments cause no sense of flattery. Instead, you’re consumed with persisting nausea as you envision a stunning girl seated across from him while they share laughter and partake in unspeakable activities in this very room.

Abruptly, a wave of heat washes over you, causing the soles of your feet and your palms to grow clammy. The scent of newly sprayed Old Spice floods the room and you’re overwhelmed by it, struggling to draw a breath. “I’ll be right back,” You all but choke on your words, swiftly rising to your feet and hastily leaving. Eddie watches curiously as you do.

In the living room, you push the heavy sliding door aside, stepping out onto the balcony to catch your breath. You inhale as deep as physically possible, and the stirring evening breeze cools the hot tears gathered along your lash line. Cars pass by, and you distract yourself by watching a person leisurely walking their dog. You do everything in your power to divert your thoughts away from him and the impending date.

A few minutes later, Eddie emerges from his room and slides open the door to the balcony, poking his head out to check on you. “Y’ready to go?” The shift in your energy is immediately evident to him, though he can’t quite pinpoint what’s amiss. He figures you’ve had a long day and you’re tired from your shift. Maybe you’re a little hangry, too.

With your arms folded on the balcony rail, you continue to look out into the neighborhood. “Go where?” 

“The store, duh. We’ve gotta get ingredients, do we not?” He says to the back of your head.

You nod meekly before turning to face him. “Right. Yeah, I’m ready.”

Eddie flashes a warm smile before sliding the door open wide enough for you to pass through. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand then, hot stuff. We’re losing daylight,” He says, striding toward the front door.

Arguably, you’re not losing daylight fast enough. You wish the sun would fall from the sky. That way, it would always be dark and you could hide in the shadows forever. You follow him inside and slide the closed with a subdued thud.

His car keys drag and jingle while he swipes them off of the counter. Once he reaches the entryway, Eddie drops the keys on the floor beside him as he kneels to put on his sneakers. A few seconds later, you’ve joined him to do the same. Eddie glances at you as he feels the evening breeze that slipped in finally reaching this side of the room. “It’s a little chilly out, wanna borrow a hoodie or something?”

Quickly tying your shoes to avoid prolonged eye contact, you get to your feet, hugging yourself as you do. “No, I’ll be fine.”

Eddie snorts and stands, his shoes now tied as well. “I’m getting you one,” He insists and heads to his room, gesturing for you to follow.

“I said I’ll be fine without one,” You opt not to follow, instead calling out to him to compensate for the distance and his half-open door.

“Shut up, I’m getting you one and you’re gonna wear it ‘cause I said so,” his tone drips with feigned amusement at your stubbornness. “Come in here.”

As you step into the room, Eddie offers you the hoodie, watching as you just stare at it. “Sweetheart, put it on. You’re gonna freeze to death if you don’t. Then, I’ll have no choice but to cancel my super hot date because I’ll be too busy defrosting my ice sculpture of a best friend with a blow drier. You want me to blow you all night? I know you-”

“Okay, okay! I’ll put the damn thing on,” you say, begrudgingly taking it from him. “Happy?”

“Try elated,” Eddie smiles from ear to ear and winks at you, content that you’re allowing him to do what he deems best for you, knowing you’re too stubborn to do so for yourself. He’s got your back, always. Even if it means enduring a bit of attitude in the process. Eddie likes that about you, he always has. With a final glance, he leaves the room, flicking off the light switch.

Left standing in the dark bedroom, you blindly navigate the article of clothing to locate the opening. However, as soon as you go to put it on, it occurs to you that this hoodie is not fresh out of the wash.

The distant floral scent left behind by dryer sheets mingles with his natural aroma, enveloping you as you pull the sweatshirt over your head. He grabbed whatever was at hand, inadvertently submerging you back into the very sensory experience you fled from. The spicy notes from his cologne turn you into a human lava lamp, effectively melting you on the inside.

The mingling of Old Spice, tobacco smoke, his unique essence, and a hint of spring meadow flood your mind. You consider the idea of keeping the hoodie. You could tell him that you forgot to return it, and he’ll forget about it. Eddie can afford to lose one hoodie, he’d survive.

“Let’s go!” He barks, impatience peaking as nerves gnaw at him with each passing minute bringing him closer to the dinner.

Exiting his bedroom, you find Eddie stationed at the front door, propping it open with his foot. Once within his view, you extend your arms and twist your expression to emphasize your annoyed compliance.

“One last thing,” Eddie withdraws his foot, causing the door to slam shut, its latch clanging twice against the wood from the force. He reaches out and pulls the hood up, adjusting it to cover most of your head. “There.”

You stick your tongue out at him, your grin eliciting one from him in return. “Alright, let’s-” He begins, but instead of turning, he fakes you out and grabs both drawstrings. Eddie tugs them, causing the hood to cinch tightly around your face.

“You’re an ass,” You whine.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie turns around to leave this time and holds the front door open for you. “You’re stuck with me.”

With a narrowed glare, you fix the hood and your hair on your way out of the apartment. Eddie is close behind, closing the door and locking it. You take the opportunity to collect yourself and adopt a supportive, cheerful demeanor.

These are gonna be the longest two hours of your life.

You can’t fucking believe it. You’re preparing a meal for another woman, and doing so willingly. You tried to guide him through the prep process, but he grew frustrated. Now, he’s on dish duty, conquering the mountain of dirty dishes piled up on the counter. 

She may be getting a delicious and intimate dinner, but at least you get moments like these. But soon enough, she’ll have them too. If everything goes to plan, the memories of these moments will be all you have left of Eddie. As you lose yourself in the sound of his voice, the ramblings about a sale he made at work eventually circle back to the topic of his evening.

As he excitedly goes on, his voice carries a boyish enthusiasm. Unseen by you, Eddie bounces on the balls of his feet while standing at the sink. Ten minutes seem to fly by unnoticed as you both focus on your tasks.

After taking the food out of the oven, his demeanor flips like a switch. “Oh, it’s time for me to leave apparently,” you acknowledge, barely having the chance to take off the oven mitt all the way before he’s practically pushing you out of the apartment. “Be sure to heat it up at 375 degrees,” You suggest as you struggle to put on your shoes fast enough.

“Sure thing,” Eddie confirms, “I’ll let you know how it goes!”

“Looking forward to it,” You lie. Eddie waves you off before closing the front door. Left standing alone in the eerily quiet hallway, you feel foolish.

Finally arriving home, you crawl onto your bed. The weight of reality crashes down upon you, and you physically collapse under the weight of your emotions. The pain in your chest burns up the back of your throat as you sob. This was a harsh wake-up call, but it’s what you needed to finally confront yourself.

It’s better this way. Not having to reject you outright or politely turn you down, Eddie doesn’t have to hurt simply because you are. This is best because Eddie doesn’t have to feel guilty or pity you. Just as you’ve loved him in silence, you can grieve the loss of him in it too.

Ten minutes pass and just as you’re starting to drift asleep from exhaustion, your telephone rings. The ringing in the kitchen pulls you from your room. You drag your feet on the way there, clearing your throat and taking a deep breath before answering the phone.

“Hey, uh,” Eddie sounds panicked, “Can you come back over? I forgot the most important fucking thing and-”

You cut him off, “Relax, I’ll be there in twelve,” Abruptly ending the call without another word, you rub your sore eyes, blow your stuffy nose, and splash your face with warm water. The last thing he needs is for his night to be ruined because he notices how hard you’ve been crying. If your feelings get in the way of him having a good time with the girl he’s head over heels for, then you don’t deserve his friendship.

Entering the building and letting yourself back into his apartment, you’re caught off guard by how different the space looks. He worked his butt off to tidy the living room and make certain that everything is presentable. Besides being notably neater, you also notice the faint smell of air freshener.

The apartment is blanketed in darkness, illuminated only by the flickering flames of candles and the light from the table lamp in the living room. Hushed music emanates from the record player in his room. It’s a genre you wouldn’t have expected him to own, because of how slow and romantic it sounds. You wonder whether he bought it specifically for this occasion.

Upon hearing the front door creak open, Eddie halts his pacing in the living room. “Thank god, you’re here.”

You teeter on the heels of your feet, feeling out of place in the carefully arranged setting that isn’t meant for you. “I really shouldn’t be. It’s quarter to seven, she’ll show up any minute now.”

Eddie makes his way over to you, rounding the dinner table and draping his arm along the back of the dining chair farthest from where you stand. “No, no. Don’t worry about that, she’s already here.”

Your eyes flit towards the bathroom, expecting to see a sliver of light escaping from beneath the door, yet the hallway is pitch black. There’s no dolled-up gal standing in his room either. You look back at him with a furrowed brow, confusion etched on your face. “Where, exactly?”

He can’t think of a time he’s ever had to remind himself how to breathe correctly. Eddie holds his hand out to you, his anxiety mounting. With hesitation, you extend your hand and place it in his. He wraps his trembling fingers around yours.

Rarely have you been in this position, and in those instances, it was never an act with deeper meaning. It’s only ever happened in urgent moments, like darting across a bustling street to avoid being separated—a mere safety measure.

Eddie’s attention fixates on your hands, willing them to respond to his touch. Then he notices your puffy, reddened eyes. “What’s the matter?” He asks, instinctively squeezing your joined hands.

“It’s stupid,” You pull away from him, retracting your hand to wipe away the smeared mascara beneath your eyes.

Rather than forcibly turning you to face him, Eddie gracefully moves around to stand in front of you once more. “I bet it’s not,” he says softly, his compassionate expression tinged with concern. He reaches for both of your hands this time, praying you can’t feel his pounding pulse through the contact.

Eddie delicately lifts your hands and peppers velvety kisses across the tops of your knuckles. The warmth of your skin against his lips sends a shiver shooting through his core, goosebumps rising across his body.

You emit a wet giggle from the shock, uncertainty, and embarrassment bubbling within you. “What the hell are you doing?”

He chuckles a little too, his eyes sparkling as they reflect the dancing flames behind you. “What’s it look like? This is all for you,” Eddie presses one more featherlight kiss to your hands before lowering them, but he doesn’t let go, keeping them securely in his own. “It’s our first date.”

You’re the prettiest little package of unusual. From the moment he first heard your song, he couldn’t shake you. Eddie couldn’t get your tune out of his system, but it’s not like he wanted to. Never before had anyone shown him such unconditional care; no one had ever gone out of their way to get to know him like you did. You’re the safest thing he’s ever known, but you’re also the scariest, in the best ways possible.

The thought of confessing how you make him complete, unlike anything he’s ever experienced, is nothing short of terrifying. Yet, the fear of not seizing the opportunity to love you outweighs the fear of rejection. There’s no turning back now.

Your eyes wander to the table, taking in the details: the thoughtfully arranged mismatched plates and silverware, the glasses filled with expensive wine. At the end of the kitchen island sits a teddy bear beside a bouquet. In addition to the flower petals, there are red, white, and pink balloons scattered across the floor.

You turn away before he can see your face contort, biting your lip harshly to suppress the sob rising in your throat. It’s all useless, though. A broken cry escapes your lips.

Eddie’s stomach lurches and pressure builds behind his own eyes. The change he just caused is palpable, the damage has been done. He releases both of your hands and plants his on the sides of his head, stepping away. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m such a fucking idiot. I read this all wrong, I thought-”

“You’re not and you didn’t,” you choke out. “They’re happy tears now.”

His frantic expression mellows out, his arms drop to his sides, and the tension in his body gradually dissipates. “Happy tears?”

You respond with a soft hum and nod, a grin forming as you admire the table setting and gifts once more before looking back at Eddie.

“Oh,” he chirps, wearing a cheek-splitting smile as he brings his palms to your face. He wipes away your fallen tears with his thumbs. Eddie studies your expression intently. “I didn’t mean to make you cry sad ones.”

“It’s not your fault,” You close your eyes, relishing the sensation of his fingers calmingly swiping along the apples of your cheeks.

“It is and I’m sorry,” Eddie inches closer, his toes now touching yours. “I wanted it to be a surprise ‘cause I thought spontaneity would make it more memorable.”

You look at him questioningly. “It’s not exactly spontaneous when you had me cook my own dinner.”

“Fair enough. You’ve got me there,” Eddie thought it was a foolproof plan. If you made the food, there was no chance that you’d hate it. “I went about this all wrong, huh? I should scrap the whole thing and start from scratch,” He becomes distracted, his train of thought shifting to how he’s going to clean this up and figure out a different approach.

“Don’t do that. Just ask me,” you grasp his forearm to regain his attention. “Ask me out and maybe I'll say yes.”

“Maybe?” Eddie scoffs airily, unsure if you’re teasing or genuinely undecided. He clears his throat and theatrically composes himself, gesturing with a downward motion of his hand in front of his face. “Okay, uh, would you like to have dinner with me?”

“No.”

Eddie’s mouth falls open.

“I’m fucking with you,” You smile devilishly and wrap your arms around his middle.

Finally, he can hug you the way he’s always wanted. Eddie brings you in close and tight, his arms encircling your head. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” He murmurs into your hair, inhaling deeply to indulge in every aspect of you he can.

“A little,” You laugh. You remain in each other’s embrace for a moment longer before easing apart, though still connected by your pairs of lassoed arms.

Eddie’s laughter melds with yours, the relief in his tone evident. “Now that the cat's outta the bag, I can finally tell you that I absolutely love when you’re a crybaby.”

You pull a comical expression, raising your eyebrows and widening your eyes. “What, why?” You take in the scattering of freckles across his T-zone while he responds.

“Honest to god, it’s mesmerizing to watch you experience things so intensely. It’s fucking beautiful,” With nothing but adoration in his eyes, Eddie strokes your hair, relishing the way it feels against his skin. “Can I call you my crybaby?”

“No, you cannot!” You swat at his chest and attempt to push him away, but he laughs smugly and brings you back in close. Your hands find purchase on his biceps, surrendering to him entirely. Locked in each other’s gaze, time seems to crawl.

Eddie’s hands, having made their way down to caress your hips, settle on the small of your back. “How about just baby?” he nudges the tip of his nose against yours, his voice taking on an almost sultry tone. “You like the way that sounds?”

All you can do is nod dumbly, watching his eyes fall to your lips.

Eddie mumbles, “Me too,” His hands flex where they lay, tugging you slightly so that your bodies are flush and you have no choice but to lean against him. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?” Eddie licks his lips, his eyes finding yours again, the chocolate pools of his irises swirling.

You nod, slide your hands up his shoulders, and wrap them around his neck. The air was stolen from your lungs, rendering your voice a ghost. Eddie leans in and his lips hover over yours, your eyes fluttering closed in time with his. Then, you feel the gentle pressure of his lips against your own.

For a few moments, you’re out of sync, a mere beat behind due to nerves. But after taking a brief breath, you find each other without trouble. When you slot your lip between his, it’s as though there’s a sunrise in his veins; a new dawn spreads through his body. You tug a fistful of curls at the nape of his neck, your lips clicking wetly with one another, chests heaving in unison.

When the two of you finally have to part to breathe, Eddie whispers, “Holy shit.”

“You can say that again,” You exhale, releasing the grip you have on his hair and soothingly scratching the area with your nails.

“I mean I could,” Eddie borderline purrs, tightening his arms around your waist. “But I’d much rather keep kissing you.”

“Hard to argue with that,” you smile against his lips and give him a quick peck, which he happily returns. Then, your mind begins to wander. “You got me flowers?”

He can’t discern if there’s a trace of disdain or disbelief in your tone. Eddie knows that you consider flowers cliché and overrated; after all, you deal with them all day. But just because you see them that way doesn’t mean he does.

Eddie pulls away slightly to get a good look at you, “Yeah, of course I got flowers for my flower. How could I not?”

Truthfully, he’s bummed about not being able to find a bouquet as exceptional as you. You’re unlike anything from this world, resembling something from his cherished sci-fi novels. You’re resilient, showing up any old rose or daisy. You unfurled your petals solely for Eddie and allowed him to see you bloom. Nothing on earth compares to you. So, a regular bouquet would have to do.

You comment with a slightly teasing tone, “I had no idea you’re a hopeless romantic.”

“Too much?” Eddie bites his lower lip, afraid that you’re offended.

“No, not too much,” you remove your one hand from his hair and rest it on his chest, drawing mindless shapes while you avoid eye contact. “Far more than I deserve though,” You’re slightly taken aback when Eddie cups your face without hesitation, forcing you to look at him. Despite his assertiveness, his touch is tender.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie’s eyes carry an intensity you’ve never seen, brimming with affection and sincerity. “You deserve everything good that this world has to offer. I can’t give you that, but I can give you all of me. That much I can promise.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

tags:@nj01@tlclick73

[cranberryjuice-posts]

- out of my league -

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Hecate! Reader

Based on - out of my league

An - im having the worst fucking migraines ever

You silently closed your window. “Ready?” You smiled over at clarisse who quietly nodded. Both of you wearing warm clothing as it was getting cold out.

“Got the money?” She asked adjusting the spear that was on her back. “Yup!” Confirming the previous question by holding up your wallet. “Common Let’s get going before we’re caught” you chuckled grabbing clarisses arm leading her into the woods.

You and clarisse had been friends for a few years. Both arriving at camp and being claimed around the same time you both grew close. In most scenarios ares kids didn’t really hang out with minor kids Espically the Hecate group, but that never stopped you both.

Clarisse liked you. She knew she did, she always had. You were the complete opposite of her, kind calm considerate.. that’s what made you both the perfect pair.

For the past few weeks clarisse had been trying to ask you out on a date. From trying to get you to go on a walk with her after the bonfire to picking strawberries with her. every time the idea came though up she was never able to actually ask the question.

What she didn’t expect was for you to ask her on a mid night run to a gas station a mile down the road. Clarisse quickly agreed and now found herself here

Reaching the edge of the camp you chuckled some. “Ready” you smiled, Walking out the camp border.

Taking a deep sigh clarisse stepped through the border and followed you down the road.

——

The walk there was entertaining. Clarisse getting threatened by the smallest of noises think they were a monster thus making you laugh.

Deciding to play 21 questions, the daughter of ares took a minute to think of her final question for you. “All right uh.. Why do you like the night so much” she shrugged her shoulders

“Really that’s your question” You laughed, however taking note of clarisses serious face you rolled your eyes. “I guess the reason why I like the night so much is because nyx and Hecate used the darkness as a way to help viel women and witches who were running away so they wouldn’t be caught.. it’s comforting in a way especially after I ran away” you smiled while shrugging your shoulders. Before clarisse could respond You changed the topic at hand

“Oh! There it is” you happily smiled grabbing clarisses Hand without realizing it leading her inside he glowing seven eleven.

Almost immediately you made your way down to the slushy machine. “Here try it” You handed the coke flavored drink over. The daughter of ares looked suspicious but took a sip of the drink. “Only shit”

“I know!”

Being at camp since you were barley 10 it made you learn to appreciate the smaller things in life. Walking towards the back of the store You took an elaborate pair of shades off the rack“How do these sunglasses Look on me”

“Like an idiot”

“Rude”

“You wanted me to be honest”

Rolling your eyes dramatically you set the glasses onto clarisse smiling as they made her look equally as dumb. “There now we’re both idiots” both of your faces were close, if either of you leaned forward your would be kissing. Gently patting her cheeks you walked away down yet another isle trying to ignore your burning cheeks.

——

Now walking up to the counter with an assortment of candies, chips, two slushies, multiple sodas and three hotdogs you payed the fee and walked out with clarisse following in suit.

Looking over you saw the normally strong guard girl smiling as she ate her hotdog. “Oh is clarisse smiling?” You teased.

“Shut up” she chuckled gently bumping her hip into yours. “Only if you tell me what’s got you in a good mood”

After some back and forth clarisse eventually agreed. “When I was younger My mom like you know she was in the army, when we were moving around the country and going to school to school my mom would stop at gas-stations and get me some comfort foods one being a Hot Dog” she sarcastically admitted. You hummed happily looking down at your long finished snack. “When we’re older and leave camp the first thing I wanna do is meet your mom”

It was like the world stopped for clarisse.. you.. you wanted to meet her mom. “Why that’s stupid”

“Not Everything is stupid clarisse, and not everything has to have some elaborate reason.” Giving her a playful dirty look you chuckled as she gently shoved you.

—

Growing closer to the boarder of camp halfblood, your slushys long discarded and half the bag of food eaten you decided to run ahead some. However one you entered the general forest area near camp you stepped in the wrong spot at the wrong moment.

Almost immediately you were tackled to the ground with a monster one you couldn’t identity in the dark towering over you, the gross slobber is dripping down your face you tried to push it off with no avail.

The next thing you heard was clarisse screaming as she stabbed the monster. “Don’t fucking touch her!” She yelled. You were trying to collect your breath as the wind was knocked out of you. Standing up some you balanced on clarisse, watching the monster disgenerate you looked up worried.

“Shit Are You ok” she quickly questioned grabbing your face, taking off her jacket she started to clean the slobber and blood off of your face. “I’m fine, hey look see I’m not bleeding it was probably just a hound sniffing around.. I’ll be ok” you grabbed the nervous girls wrist while trying to help her calm down.

Clarisse Just nodded in response. “Let’s get back to camp” she sighed, grabbing the two plastic bags off the ground she held your hand, refusing to let it go until you were inside the border.

——

Once at the Hermes cabin clarisse helped you silently open the window. Climbing inside you groaned, after the attack you had pulled a muscle in your back.

“It still hurts” she asked worried. Nodding you gave her a forgetful frown. Watching as she started to walk away you decided to tease her some. “Where are you going?”

“Bed. It’s 3am”

“So you’re really leaving without a goodbye kiss?”

“And Why would i do That” she stopped, turning around with a currious look “Because you like me” you quickly responded with a charming smile.

“I- I do not I don’t know where—“

“Yes you do. And it’s ok because I like you to”

Her shocked expression made you laugh once again, muttered a small spell you pulled the girl back over to the window. Leaning down out you kissed her softly. Clarisses arms were tied down to her side with your spell, but you found it amusing how she still tried her best to kiss you back.

Pulling away you undid the spell and finger waved at clarisse while closing the window. “Wait! YN you can’t do—!”

“Goodnight clarisse” You sarcastically teased blowing her a kiss before completely shutting the window

“Yn!!” She finally yelled.. clarisse rubbed her eyes, what the hell was she going to do with you.

Clarisse - So We’re dating

Y/n - yes

Clarisse - ok.. im ok with that

Y/n - *raising an eyebrow* everything ok clarisse

Clarisse - *standing with a hand over her mouth and looking down critically* yup

——

[vampiretendencies]

a visceral feeling, that i can never leave behind

summary; jj crossed his heart, hoped to die that he wouldn’t get in another dust up; now he’s suffering.

authors notes; getting back into the groove of writing full length fics, still doing blurbs. but if you have a request either way, requests are open.

pairing; jj maybank x pogue!fem!reader (reader is almost always a pogue, unless i specify other wise)

warnings; angst to fluff, maybe suggestive if you take it that way

It was unusual to not hear from JJ.

Whether it be sullen facetime calls, hundreds of affectionate text messages, or not being able to pry your hands off of one another in person.

It was just unusual.

Which is why you are silently cursing yourself, sat parked outside the Chateau. The Twinkie was gone, but that in more ways than one didn’t mean JJ wasn’t in his bedroom.

Maybe John B took it out on an errand.

Maybe John B, Pope, and Kie went out on the marsh.

The possibilities were endless— but JJ never was the type to miss out on a Pogue expedition. Nor was he the type to not tell you about it; hell he’d update you if he was doing a task, as simple as smoking a blunt.

Glancing down at the blue and grey text chain, a photo of JJ kissing the bone of your jaw ever so slightly adorned the top, a helpless dimple poking through— but, you couldn’t understand why most of it was blue. Why were they so many texts from only you?

J <3

JB did a lil fire tonight

Got mosquito bites in places I shouldn't have mosquito bites

Need you to help me scratch them :(

I'm being serious

Goodnight baby, wish I was sleeping with you

Those were the last few texts you'd received from JJ, after you'd worked a late shift at the wreck and he'd known you fell asleep. JJ also knew today was your late shift, typically he'd be at the front door of your home; parents ready to boot him out from how much he continuously rambled on about you. You even tried calling Kie, Pope, and John B numerous times with no response.

Yeah, something was definitely fucking wrong.

With a slam of your car door the leaves from the tree above crunch beneath your feet, adjusting your cropped tee so it didn't fall too low. Rays of the sun beaming thoroughly on the skin of your legs and the exposure of your back, making your way towards the screen door of the Chateau. Screen pulled back and worn out, the wood chipped and chewed but this wouldn't be the Chateau if it wasn't. Past the porch you step foot inside, pushing aside beer cans with your shoe clad foot; empty cereal boxes, stale three-day old pizza, open sodas. Anything that you could imagine that was on the hard wood floor, it was.

But what you couldn't find was answers.

"JJ!"

You called, knowing full well there wouldn't be a response as he isn't visibly here. But it's JJ, he could be fucking around.

"Baby!"

You tried the pet name in hopes that it would work, but as you enter his room and see an unmade bed with miscellaneous clothes thrown on it your thoughts grew thin. You huffed limp body falling back onto the solid twin matress.

Instantly flying upward upon hearing familiar voices and footsteps, one familiar voice in particular.

Questions seeming to be answered all at once.

Seeming.

"Did you see that headlock John B had him in?"

"Easy access! Took one hit and I swear I heard his jaw crack!"

It was, in fact JJ.

Doing that thing that he does after the Pogues think they've accomplished something big, yet they always fail to see the bigger picture.

Heat of the moment or adrenaline, you assumed.

"His face was so fucked up!"

"He's had it coming for a long time."

You confirmed it was John B's voice with Kies toward the end. Now the issue was, who the hell did they have to get into a fight with this time?

Though you may not know, you'd make certain to find out.

Creeping around the corner, you make your presence known at the entrance of the living room where they all stood. Appearing as if they's seen a ghost.

Not only did they not have the decency to include you or fill you in, but JJ's fist is coated in blood. Disheveled and mulled, like they'd been ran over by the same bus various times. Kie's curls fanned outwardly, John B with a busted lip, Pope with a black eye, and JJ with a welp against his cheek bone; a gushing cut seeping through.

Your voice grows horse, mouth running dry; fathomed by your supposed friends in front of you.

What were you? A sick joke?

"Look ... we can explain, JJ told us not to tell you and we-"

Kie offered, guilt eating away at her portraying a bad habit.

"Just don't."

"Shouldn't someone like ... be mediator this time, she might actually kill him."

Pope chimes in and it makes your stomach churn because he was partially true.

You brush past them, aiming for your car and of course JJ's steps behind you. Echoing your every move, fingertips knotting around your wrist in an effort for you to turn around and face him. Unexpectedly, your back met with the warm glass window of your car. His fists at the hood, arms hovering near the sides of your head. Tresses combed backward from his digits, out of fear that this situation right here would happen.

There were certain confrontations JJ appreciated and certain one's he didn't.

He had no problem with pummeling someone unrecognizable for the sake of his friends, which spells out the entirety of this.

The confrontations he hated though was this one, the one where he can't even look you in the eye. He invariably lost his tongue in a fight with you, his past making him think that every fight could result in you abandoning him and never coming back. For the long run.

"You should go get that looked at," you spat, biting back so harshly. Peering at a slash that would take weeks to scab over.

"Just stay okay? This doesn't have to be a fight."

His speech is low and he's looking everywhere but at you until you shoved him- hands connecting with his chest in an effort to get his attention and for him to stop caging you in.

Exasperated that he couldn't just tell you, that he couldn't just talk to you about it.

Animosity that he would dare get his precious face damaged in such as way.

Irate and bitter that his somehow get himself in this overwhelming imperilment.

A menace before you.

"It does JJ! We're lying to each other now? This is what we do?!"

It was a show, a show that people would stream on television for their on laughter and enjoyment.

But this was the sheerness of a susceptible couple, glass nearly empty.

Time bellowing out.

"I had to baby!"

Not to be dramatic but JJ's heart had been stitched together once, when you entered his life.

And that's why he tried his utmost to prevent any interference in this relationship.

Because now he swears, he can physically feel a stitch rip open with every remark you make.

"We tell each other everything JJ!"

"And I didn't tell you 'cause, I knew this is how you'd react!"

He stands still with a clenched jaw; tight enough for teeth to grind, hand gesturing at your current 'pissed off' stance—notrils flaring and mouth agape.

And he thinks this actual smoke fuming out of your ears.

Silence fell over the two of you, stood so desperately apart in the misty front yard of the Chateau.

"It was Rafe," He rasped through monotone. "We had to take this round while we could-"

"So fucking stupid, you know he's coming back for ya'll!" You still speak sharply, infuriated past envy. "M'the one treated like shit, just for you to get one up on Rafe Cameron ... of all people JJ!"

"I know, baby! I know-"

He reached for your arms, in ordinace to hold them close, but he failed whilst you inched to the car door.

What's upsetting is, after the fight and pirior to it- JJ craved to breathe in your oxygen and get lost inside your lungs.

"I dont care if it's a decision I won't like, it's still something I deserve to know," and now your voice is just growing weary. "You do such dumb shit and m'expected not to say anything."

All JJ could do was ache.

Ache with regret.

And ache with longing at the feeling of you not wanting to be near him.

He hadn't even gotten a kiss today, for Christ's sake.

"You said you wanted all of me JJ, I gave you that. Why aren't you doing the same..."

Your figure folds, stepping low into the car, JJ running forward bloody fist pounding on the glass window. Praying to God, that you'd give in just this once and hear him out.

"I am! I fuck up one time and you're there to make sure I don't hear the end of it!'

He's finding his voice, a minute two late as his takes note of gear switching and the vehicle moving backward to leave.

"Get out! Don't go ... please don't baby!"

“Baby!”

He trails behind the moving car, as if running would make a difference.

But you wouldn't be there this time.

The last altercation he got into, you were on the other end to clean his bruises and linger kisses onto his cuts; yet, there was also an agreeance that he wouldn't be caught up in another scrutinizing fight.

You validated yourself in thinking you had the right to your reaction.

And JJ validated himself in thinking he was right in not telling you, your words engraving in his brain like clockwork; agatizing that he saw reason.

Nearly a chore for him to listen— heardheaded beyond belief.

Ravaging in the come down.

Always finding the beat, now they can't find the rush.

All filaments of emotion turned to dust.

“You can stop shitting your pants now, she’s already seen us.”

John B’s banter is not one that makes JJ’s tongue stop clicking, nor does it make his leg stop bouncing up and down out of horrid anxiousness.

He’s forced John b to take him to your home, only to be dismissed in your family saying you weren’t around.

You were, you just couldn’t stand to see JJ.

Fed up with his antics and his constant need to put himself in a position of hazardous instability.

Allowing him to resort to plan ‘work invasion’— the one place he knew you couldn’t escape him.

Despite how he typically acts, JJ has precise memory when it comes to you. He still has the little crumpled piece of paper you gave him in first grade— folded neatly inside his wallet, being besotted with you for that long.

‘I like your hiar — signed Y/N’

He picked fun at the way you spelled hair, though he took pride in his hair since then. And no matter how much he misplaced things, he endlessly found his was back to that note.

Resembling you, evermore.

With that being said, remembering your work schedule was something of ease to him.

You did glance at them stepping foot into the eating establishment, sat at a table on the far side— also know as your serving section.

Ultimately, you didn’t want to argue any longer with JJ; you didn’t want to argue to begin with. You bargained with him to learn— to learn that he can’t always have his way.

Especially when he’s teasing you so, showing up during your shift, and wearing that stupid fucking navy blue button up shirt besides the fact that it was, unbuttoned. Chest on display, muscular and built.

You felt the dagger of his eyes on your back whilst you served the table that was ahead of them, still feet away. Unable to concentrate on the order, eaves dropping on their conversation.

“Ma’am, are you listening?”

“Sorry … sorry what was that?”

Your saccharine voice apologizing to the woman and her small child, JJ chews the inside of his mouth. He despised going longer than a millisecond without hearing that sweet, sweet sound, laced with the inticement of veneration.

Accidentally fumbling the pen and note pad in your hand, rubbing your sweating palms onto your greasy black half-apron.

“Just two milkshakes.”

The woman was quick to repeat, voice more stern at you for not getting it right the first time.

But JJ was going to win you over, wether that be clogging every toilet in the stalls to announce to everyone that there was a plumping problem— isolating only you and him.

Though, he had something else in mind. Maybe not we’ll thought out to most, but it was the quickest and most efficient way he new of to win you back over on his side.

You slide your feet against the tiled floor, anticipating serving the group of Pogues. Instead you plaster on as fake as smile, and interrupt their witty banter by clearing your throat.

“What can I get ya’ll today? Our special today is a main dish of lying with backstabbing on the side.”

You were being bitter and you knew it, purposefully standing on the side of the table that JJ wasn’t on. But still the dining chair screeched on the floor, in an effort to move closer.

“Look we actually love you a lot more than JJ, if we’re being honest,” Pope conquered, and Kie and John B shook their heads in eagerness, willing to mask the tension in the air. “He convinced us to leave you out of it and we didn’t want to get in the middle of anything.”

“You don’t have to justify anything JJ did Pope, he chose to break our promise and that’s on him.”

You sneered, eyes rolling harshly at the blonde that’s twirling his thumbs— peering up at you with a deathly smirk on his features.

“That was a one time thing, Rafe deserved it baby, you know he did.”

“Baby, you know he did.”

John B mocked JJ, warning a kick from JJ’s combat boot beneath the table with a scoff.

“Did you guys hear something … like this irritating buzzing sound of some bastard talking?”

That earned a hissing sound from John B, the actual remnants of what JJ felt from that comment.

“Are y’all ordering or what? I have other tables to serve.”

You conquer, JJ’s at the edge of seat, tapping his foot. His sense being filled with that of burgers, shrimp and grits, anything he could utter but he didn’t have an appetite.

No, not when the only thing he had a hankering for was currently in front of him.

Back straightened and stood tall, typically a stance he’d drool over but he can’t get past the weeping sensation— dire need to never be at odds.

To simply just be.

For you to be his, and him be yours.

All over again.

“I was hoping you were on the menu.”

Courage emphasizing his words, eyeing you up and down— nearly eyefucking. Seeing now as his opportunity to go in for the kill.

“Okay, you know what-“

You’re spinning on your heels, in a notion to walk away— refusing service.

Until.

“JJ! Get down, my parents are never gonna’ let us back in here!”

But, he didn’t give a fuck.

A sickly pit in your stomach causes you to turn around, to be met with a JJ stood bright eyed— a disfigured expression and sunken shoulders hanging low.

Standing atop the table, head closer to the ceiling than it ever was before. Loud and proud, whilst his hands clapped, cupping together for a infamous effect.

Your face burns with prim red scrutiny, horror covering your face— just powerful moments ago.

Insides scrambling to nothing, a stupid toothy grin plastered across his features.

Wreckless, per usual, consequences of no variation to him.

He’s irrevocably standing on top of a restaurant table with only lovingly sullen eyes.

“This woman right here,” He gestures his arms toward you, all bodies turning toward you— wanting to cower in shame but oddly enough you were enticed and lead by infatuation.

Pope and John B, just let JJ do his thing— either way he was going to do what he pleased.

Crowds of familiar faces, family, a friends— some with mouths wide open in awe, some making snarky remarks, and some wishing like hell that it was them.

“She’s gonna’ have my babies,” He started a small chuckle escaping his lungs. Announcing to the entirety of the restaurant, giving them entertainment; despite the promise he broke to not get himself hurt again.

This though. This was promising, and convincing and everything in between.

Salvaged with being allergic to the waiting.

Waiting for you to come around.

You’re in the room, you earn his gaze.

You open your mouth, he’s hypnotized.

Starstruck.

“And m’gonna have those lips on mine for however long she lets me … forever I hope.”

He beamed, Kie’s father’s disgruntled face entering the room, waving at JJ to get down.

A sinister grin still on his features.

“And ya’ll will pass by us in disgust, that you can’t be us. That you can’t have our love.”

You’d hoped someone was behind you because you were about to collapse.

“This enough of an apology for you, pretty girl?”

He echoes, bits of his accent flowing through the sentence.

You managed to fight the smile on your features.

Let’s just say JJ proclaiming his love infront of nearly thirty people didn’t come close to his usual public displays of affection.

“Get your ass down!” Kie’s father, Mike, stammered, and JJ willingly jumped down from the table, being that he wasn’t finished.

And he knows by the smile lines next to your mouth— that this argument is officially past tense.

And he knows that tonight he’s going to relish in all the delicacies that you have to offer him.

“I mean it was alright,” you joke, picking fun to pass your inkling of embarrassment.

Knowing that it topped any apology you’ve received.

JJ glides over to you, hands wholeheartedly cupping your face, thumbs nestling you chin. Like the two of you were on a stage and this was a live performance.

You hold his heart in your hands internally, JJ is merely thankful to be alive during this lifetime with you.

Appreciating your existence and the relationship the two of you founded, together.

He places a wet, sloppy kiss to your lips, pecking them repeatedly. Delving them together, molding with perfection and engulfing yours with his.

Exhilarated to have the opportunity to graze mouths with yours.

“Don’t ever make me chase you again.”

But, he knows he’d do it all over.

Standing hand in hand, with lovelorn souls.

Knowing that he’d redo it without hesitation.

[bratdotcom]

It won't be your birthday forever

( PLATONIC!Stan Pines x reader || celebrating your birthday with your boss )

You were stuck in your own little world as you stacked merchandise onto shelves, trying not to pay attention to the feeling of dust collecting onto your fingers.

"Hey, uh, kid." You hear a familiar gruff voice from behind. Which makes you turn around to its source. It was your boss and landlord, Stan Pines.

You've been crashing in the man's attic for a couple of months now, waiting for your apartment lease to be approved in a town where everyone seemed to do things at their own pace. The people of Gravity Falls seemed to like taking it slow. It was more bearable when surrounded by the smell of wood glue and tacky taxidermy animals.

"Yeah?" You ask, intrigued to see the older man's hands hidden behind his back. Which could mean two things. Either he had a job for you, or he remembered that he owed you a soda from the vending machine when it broke last week.

"It's your birthday today, right?" He asks, hoping you'd confirm it. The cataracts in his eyes messed with his vision. He hoped he didn't misread what you wrote on your employee information sheet. It wasn't hard to remember someone's birthday when you only had three employees total.

You smile slightly. "Yeah, it is." You reply, wiping the dust off of your palms onto a rag you placed on a nearby shelf. Stan smiles along as well. The wrinkles on his face tug upwards. "Then it's a good thing I didn't read it wrong."

Stan chuckles to himself before clearing his throat. "I uh, made this for ya." He finally pulls out what he was hiding behind his back.

A small cupcake that seemed even smaller in his much larger hand. Decorating it was white icing with a shakily drawn smiley face on top. A thin, unlit birthday candle sticking out of the side like a hat of sorts.

"It's vanilla buttercream and birthday cake." Stan says, somewhat sheepishly. He's glad that you and him were the ones closing up shop tonight. "I uh, know how it is to be alone on your birthday." He admits quietly. "I don't want you to feel the same way 'cause you're new here. Gravity Falls is my home- I made it my home. Pretty soon, it's gonna be yours, too.”

You smile more hearing his words. You've never thought of Stan to be the caring type, but hearing his words and the mental image of him mixing bowls of cupcake batter and icing with an apron on was endearing.

To his shock, you hug him as thanks.

Stan almost drops the cupcake in his hand. But he doesn't pull away.

"You're welcome, kid." He says in a much more softer tone than before, patting your back with his free hand. You didn't even need to say thank you.

He pulls away from the hug with a more prominent smile. "Let's go light this puppy out back, yeah? I made a couple more so you don't got to share with an old man like me.”

[fashionteahouse]

can I get one where She had a very conservative family and she doesn’t get out and when she’s out visiting her cousin Jared she meets embry so when she finally loses her virginity to embry she can’t help but want more by just looking at him like quickies are a must with him in Emily’s bathroom ✅ the woods✅ Jacob’s garage shop✅ anywhere and everywhere no one is surprised when she comes out pregnant 4months after meeting him please make this super long

you sure can 😊💜 hope you enjoy :)

hot wind blows - embry x reader

Summer vacation is fresh. You barely cared to make any type of summer plans. Excuses of you not going would’ve been because the influence was bad. So, you stopped asking. Jared thought otherwise and talked good persuasion. One phone call and you’re on the road to go visit your cousin.

You were excited to see what La Push would offer after so many years. Jared was definitely going to show you a good time, you always had fun when you were around him.

Jared was happy to see you, his tight bear hug spoke enough. Giggles were already bubbling in your system. It was nice to finally let your hair down. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and walks you to the beach and you two catch up. You two go into town about anything and everything under the sun.

After the conversation transformed into a debate of whose favorite movie is better than the other, you two decide to walk to a convenience store. Jared insisted on a movie night to shut down such claims to your argument. You look around the freshly stocked shop and land at the soda section of the store fridge.

“Excuse me.” you heard an unfamiliar voice speak from behind you. You move out of the way and the guy grabs a drink, knowing exactly what he wants. The guy is about to walk away until he takes a double look at you.

“You’re Jared’s cousin right?” Embry says.

You nod in confirmation.

“Come on Y/N. How long does it take to pick out a drink.” Jared asks you. You roll your eyes and grab a drink. Embry chuckling under his breath at the entire interaction.

“So what are you guys getting into?” Embry asks as you all exit the store.

“Movie night.” Jared says and you look over at Embry.

“Do you want to join?” You ask, Embry has your attention and you didn’t want him to go. You didn’t know the next time you were going to see him.

“If you seriously think he’s going to agree with your movie choice then you’re so wrong.” Jared speaks.

Sprawled in Jared’s living room, you watch the characters dance about on television and speaking their dialogue. You couldn’t care less about what was happening. You were glad you got to sit with Embry.

As Embry is leaving, your spirits aren’t the best. He says farewell to Jared and says farewell to you. You get up and give him a hug, feeling how warm he is. You’re obsessed with how he seems to swallow you in his embrace.

“You guys are coming to Emily’s for breakfast tomorrow right?” Embry asks as he’s leaving out of the door.

“Yeah. Who’s turning down that?” Jared speaks out. You silently thank him, that only meant that you could see Embry again.

Morning arrives and you haven’t felt excited like this in a long time. Good conversations flowed easily when you got to get to know everyone. Emily’s cooking was amazing. You were very impressed how good she was able to make the most out of simple dishes.

As Embry is washing the dishes, you move to help him dry and put them away. Grabbing a dish towel, you ask questions to get to know him better.

“So, what do you do for fun around here?” You ask.

“Well… cliff diving is what I definitely like to do.” He answers as he hands you a dish.

“Cool. We should go sometime.” you tell him.

“You would go cliff diving?” he asks surprised.

“Yeah. Why not?” you ask as you put a dry dish where it belongs.

“I just hope you’re not going to be scared..” he says and chuckles, “I like to jump pretty high up.”

You shrug and wait for another dish to be done being washed, “I mean.. I like roller coasters.”

Embry bursts out laughing, his visible white teeth showing with joy, “Not the same thing.”

He actually did take you cliff diving. Jared couldn’t come along because of work but he was really bummed he couldn’t join.

A light jacket covered your bikini suit. You peer down at the moving water. Embry wasn’t lying when he told you about the height. You take the jacket off and prepare for the heightened jump. You felt a warm hand snake into yours and you look down.

“You can hold my hand if you want.” Embry says with a relaxed smile, easing any fears that you had.

“Okay let’s count down….3…2….1!” You say and Embry has you in the air, falling into the cool water. You swim to the surface and laugh. You turn to find Embry staring at you with a joyful face. You two go again and again until you two decide ice cream sounds like a good idea.

“Two bowls please.” he orders and he sits you at a bench. You didn’t notice that you were still holding his hand until he goes to retrieve the two bowls of ice cream.

“Thank you for taking me. I see why you love it so much.” you tell him sincerely.

“No problem. With me, you’re always going to have fun.” he says which makes you chuckle.

“We should just start hanging out then. I came for fun.” you tell him. He nods at this and looks at his ice cream for a bit until he looks up at you.

“Want to try mine?” he offers and you nod. He raises his spoon but you halt him.

“Wait..let’s do this.” You say as you raise your spoon with the ice cream flavor you picked and link his arm. You both are able to taste at the same time.

You met Jared’s girlfriend finally after hearing so much. She was easily likable and very nice. She was a perfect match for your cousin Jared. He invites you to come to dinner with them two, you invite Embry. You didn’t want to be a third wheel.

The dinner went smooth, mostly because Embry was there to keep you interested in a conversation.

Kim asks you if Jared can spend time with her at her house. You have no problem with this. Embry walks you back to his house. You take in his graphic novel collection that he had in his room. You glide your fingers over the spine of the books. How could this guy be more attractive?

Sitting shoulder to shoulder, he flips through a book you’ve heard about. He goes into the necessary details and offers to let you read it. He had to hear your personal take on it. You kiss him thanks, knowing how much he values his belongings. He’s pleased with this.

He invites you back over the next day, anxious to see if you started reading yet. Of course you did. After a few playful debates, he wants to kiss you again. He did exactly that. It’s filled with devotion which makes you pull back a bit.

“You don’t have a girlfriend right?” you ask to make sure.

“No but I’m trying to make you mine.” he says and resumes.

Hand in hand, you two run back to his house after splats of rain fall down. Panting, you two look at the drop of water on each other, cheesing at the experience.

The rain patters hitting his window set the ambiance for the romantic session you two decided to share. Eating each other’s mouths out with hands exploring each other’s bodies.

He helps you pull your soaked top off and you lie your back down on his mattress. You press his hands to your chest, he takes in a sharp breath. The touch warms your whole body. Your hands dance in his dark hair as he feels and sucks on your chest. You whisper his name like a prayer while flushed.

“You haven’t done this before?” he asks you with his hands hooked on the side of your underwear. You shake your head.

He breaths you in until you’re shuddering from the sensation. You felt like you were being brought back to life as you hold onto his head, while he grips on your hips. Talented fingers paint your insides, relaxing you until you’re in a hazy state of mind. As painful as it was for him to gradually work into you, you didn’t regret anything.

“It will get better as you do it more.” he tells you as he takes you back to Jared’s. You were worried that the pain would always come first but you trusted him.

More time was spent with him. Everything he did was attractive to you, including blinking.

Emily was having dinner at her place, Embry had no problem taking you. You were vocal of how much you loved her food. You couldn’t help your sock covered foot being on his leg under the table. As the others make their way to the sitting room and outside in the backyard, you ask him to take you to the bathroom. He sits on the edge of the bathtub while you hug him close to you. He promised to make it quick but time was lost as you two grind to meet each other. You both wanted the feeling to never go away. Struggling to keep your voices in a steady hushed tone, it didn’t stop you two from whispering the gratitude of each other.

You two were inseparable. You both shared mostly of the same interests. Sitting at an ice cream parlor, you feed him ice cream and he suggests a walk in the woods. Summers were the best, trees stood strong and tall. The colors of nature were vibrant in every way.

In a walk in the woods, you look at the unique plants and let the hot wind blow. You give him a look. Out of breathe from lips being connected, you shiver, “Can we?” He agrees in an instant, guiding his fingers to your second heart. After making sure that you’re ready, he lies down on his back. He guided your hips to meet his. It feels better this time, him piercing into your body being the only uncomfortable part. After finding a rhythm, you feel really connected to him. You move your hands from being flat on his chest to interlocking your hands in his.

You were able to meet his other friends. His friend, Jacob shared the interests with him in cars. You were impressed by the owner of a garage being his friend. Introducing you to him was entailed of nothing but boasting about you. You were pleased with this and everything else. He showed you where he works. Amazed that he has his own office due to his talents of being great at numbers. He helps fix cars if needed be as well.

With the door closed, he props you up on his desk with your legs around him. The grip on his hair doesn’t hurt him, it’s actually motivation for him to keep lapping up the same spot. One hand is on your mouth, trying not to spill out any moans or groans. On edge, he sheaths his extra body part inside of you. Sighs escape your mouth as he works his hips. Your vision becoming distorted and you loved it. His fingers desperately free your chest from the fabric of your choice. His eyes never leave yours as you take him all in with your hips wanting him to return his warmth every time he would retract before pushing himself in.

You didn’t want to leave, especially not him. You still enjoyed yourself with Jared but Embry took your heart. Saying goodbye to go back home was hard. You two still kept in contact, making sure to make promises to see each other again. You couldn’t count down until your next break fast enough.

At an annual check up, you were in a daze. You felt your heart drop when a doctor asked when your last menstrual cycle took place. You realized that you were late. You anxiously wait for the dr to come back in the room, taking a cup filled with urine with them.

“Embry… I have something to tell you.” you tell him with dread in your voice.

“What’s wrong?” He asks you, being able to detect the difference in your voice.

“We’re pregnant.” you just drop on him.

He demands to see you. You’ve never seen him like this before. You thought you seen him at his happiness already but this moment had nothing on his other past enthusiasm. The news broke out and you were fearful of the reactions. It surprised you when nobody flinched.

“It’s about time. It took you forever to tell us this. It was only a matter of time.” Jared says with humor in his voice.

You could help but beam at the person at your side. He matched your expression. This bundle of joy will connect you to him for a lifetime.

[theragethatisdesire]

hello bb and congratulations again 💗💗💗 i’m so happy and excited for you hitting such a major milestone 🥳 so well deserved!!

could i please request “do you trust me?” w geto? 🥺 no preference on fluff smut or angst, just whatever speaks to you

tytyty in advance 🥰 luv u~

HEY TIFF thank you so much!!!!! i just adore you mwah you're the BEST. i can absolutely do that for you my lovie dove WHERE are all these geto asks coming from rn i have another in my inbox ?!?! i didn't know all u geto girlies were hiding in my followers like hello....ANYWAY i am not a manga girly so i have no idea how geto's actual storyline goes so i went with a modern!AU as is my tendency

-

It's been a rough day. You're three tequila sodas deep, nuzzled into the wood of your favorite dive bar, and trying to ignore the tears continuously threatening to well in your eyes. Your phone sits on the counter, buzzing continuously and likely irritating the other patrons, but you're beyond caring.

Your cheating, piece-of-work, now ex-boyfriend knows no bounds apparently, sending text after text groveling and begging you to pick up. You have no intentions of doing so, but watching the screen light up over and over again, reading his begging, is giving you a sick satisfaction. Bastard.

"Excuse me?"

A voice floats over your shoulder, deep and pleasant. You turn, fully ready to bark at whoever dared interrupt your misery, but your mouth shuts as soon as you catch sight of the man behind you.

Tall and broad, with long dark hair tied into a neat bun, two little pieces framing his angular face beautifully. He's gorgeous, but something about him disarms you in a way you wish he wouldn't. Your woman's intuition is whispering that something more lurks below the innocent, friendly smile on his face, something dangerous, but you swallow it down, intrigued.

"Yes?"

"Is this seat taken?"

You're surprised; sweaty, fresh out of work in your little waitress uniform, face blotchy with the remnants of spilt tears, you absolutely aren't looking your best. You shrug, nod, and gesture towards the seat, unsure of what exactly this guy's playing at.

"You seem to be drinking alone," he observes after allowing a few quiet minutes to stretch between you.

"I am," you confirm, wincing at the popping sound your straw makes, the last bits of your cocktail struggling to make it up to your mouth, "I try not to make it a habit, but it's been a bit of a day."

"Hm," he nods thoughtfully, reaching a beckoning hand out to the bartender. After he orders his scotch, he orders a drink for you, nailing the combination perfectly: tequila soda, splash of lime juice, with an orange slice. Your eyes narrow in suspicion.

"How did you-"

"I overheard you earlier." That same friendly, disarming smile graces his face, warms your core and sends alarm bells ringing in your head.

"Have you been...watching me?"

"No," he waves a nonchalant hand through the air, sliding a black Amex across the counter to the bartender, "not watching. I just tend to keep an eye on a beautiful woman when I see one."

You blink. Should you be creeped out? Intrigued? Ashamed of the lusty electricity buzzing through your veins at his compliment? All three?

"T-thank you," you stammer, unsure of what else to say.

"Speaking of beautiful women," he turns towards you, cheersing his glass against your own, "what are you doing drinking on your own?"

"My boyfriend sucks," you mumble around the little plastic straw between your lips, "ex that is."

"He must not be all that bright, then," his eyes trail over your figure meaningfully, something in his smile growing darker.

"I just want to forget about him," you admit, shamefully vulnerable in front of a total stranger. You realize you don't even know his name, but when he lays a hand across your thigh, high up enough to be far from friendly, you feel a familiar heat spark across your skin. It's enough to forego the details, you need plenty of things from this mysterious stranger, but not his name.

"I know a thing or two about forgetting someone," his tongue darts out to wet his lips, yours mirroring it unintentionally, "would you like...some advice?"

"I don't know," you chuckle, "what kind of advice?"

"Well, it's more help than it is advice," that smile deepens into a smirk, one eyebrow raising in a silent challenge, "do you trust me?"

"You're a perfect stranger."

"I am," he inclines his head in admittance, but doesn't lose his stamina for a moment, "do you trust me?"

And maybe it's the tequila, maybe it's his strong neck that looks like it would give so deliciously under your teeth, maybe it's the insistent little circles his thumb is rubbing into your thigh, but you feel freer, more daring than before. It escapes your mouth in a whisper, desperate and trembling in the air between you.

"Yes."

[ithinkyouhealedmyheart]

Ghostwriter CH 8

Unbetad Unedited Unhinged || AO3

Character(s): Kendall Knight, James Diamond, Logan Mitchell, Carlos Garcia, Mercedes Griffin, Veronica Clark oc

Pairing(s): Kendall Knight/Veronica Clark, James Diamond & Veronica Clark, Carlos Garcia & Veronica Clark, Logan Mitchell & Veronica Clark, Mercedes Griffin & Veronica Clark, James Diamond & Kendall Knight & carlos Garcia & Logan Mitchell

Word count: 3k

“I always go to the mall on Fridays. Even though moving to Los Angeles has shaken up my routine significantly, I’m at least trying to keep something.” 

“Ronnie, babes, you don’t have to explain anything to me.” Mercedes giggled and looked up from texting. “I totally get it. Every tomboy needs a break from four teenage boys occasionally.” 

“That’s not– Sure, let’s go with that.” Ronnie sighed and leaned her chin in the palm of her hands. She didn’t need a break from them– okay, she needed a break from Kendall. 

The songwriter has somewhat ignored the frontman for the past five days. Of course, she couldn’t ignore Kendall at work and was overtly respectful towards him, but it was a different story outside of work. She started hanging out with James a little more. The brunette even helped hide her from Kendall once or twice. But it was nice to have a break from all of them. 

On Wednesday, Carlos started a pet grooming business to get some extra pocket change, which inevitably erupted in him when Bitters found out. Ronnie spent the day running after dogs that got loose in the Palm Woods with Carlos. It was fun until Bitters yelled at both of them when one of the escaped dogs jumped in the pool and scared tenants. 

It was nice to kick back with Mercedes. 

Ronnie was still on high alert, worried that Mercedes would ask her father to fire her if this didn't go well. She felt obligated to. It wasn’t like she was forced to hang out with the rich girl. Not that her company wasn’t great. Hanging out at the mall with Mercedes was like hanging out back home. Only Ronnie didn’t have to witness whatever courting ritual Addison and Callie were a part of. 

“Do you even take care of your nails?” Mercedes pointed her nail file at Ronnie and raised a perfect brow. 

Ronnie hummed and furrowed her brows, looking down at her hands. The answer was no, but the blonde didn’t wait for verbal confirmation. 

“This is the perfect opportunity to go to the spa!” Mercedes beamed happily and stuffed her nail file in her purse. “It’ll be my treat!” 

This whole trip was technically her treat. The bubbly girl didn’t allow Ronnie to reach for her debit card in her wallet. 

“Oh, maybe then we can touch up our wardrobe! It’s L.A. and nearly eighty-plus. I have no idea how you wear that sweatshirt everywhere.” 

“It’s comfortable…” 

“Is sweating to death that comfortable?” She batted her eyelashes and stuck out her bottom lip. 

Ronnie rolled her eyes and couldn’t stop herself from smiling slightly. 

“Okay, okay. You got me there, but I’ll only part with it to try on clothes.” 

“Party pooper.” Mercedes pouted. She bounced out of her chair and grabbed her fancy fountain soda drink. “Now, come on. I saw this cute dress in one of the windows, and I think it would look nice on you!” 

Ronnie’s face heated up. She swore she was blushing. Addison always told her she looked good whenever they tried on clothes together, but something about how Mercedes said it felt far more genuine. 

“That made you bashful? Oh, girl, we have a lot to work on.” Mercedes giggled behind her hand. When Ronnie stood up, she hooked her arm through hers and led her off with a bounce in her step. 

Momentarily, the songwriter couldn’t help but think about Addison and Callie. Addison would be over the moon to go shopping in Los Angeles. She would walk up and down Hollywood Boulevard a hundred times over and go into each store multiple times. It would be paradise for her. Although Ronnie hadn’t been gone for long, she hoped they would visit her soon. It wasn’t the same without them. It was nice hanging out with others and expanding her social circle, but she wanted to see her old friends again. It wasn’t the same without them. 

Clothes were piled in her arms as Mercedes took them from the wrack. Ronnie couldn’t hear what she was saying and struggled to peek over the growing pile in her arms. 

“Oh! I think this would look good on you!” Mercedes tossed something yellow on the pile. 

“What are you talking about–” Ronnie glanced over her shoulder and was promptly pushed into the changing room by the blonde socialite. 

Instead of being left to choose which clothes worked best, Mercedes had Ronnie come out of the changing room and model for her. The blue-haired girl felt like a Barbie doll. It was hard work to wear and model the clothes for Mercedes. When she got an idea, the rich girl would mix and match the tops with bottoms and circle back to other garments. Ronnie was reasonably confident she would never shop in Hollywood, but unfortunately, the universe had different plans for her. One outfit Mercedes liked was a black and pink tank top with distressed jean shorts. Ronnie crossed her arms in front of her chest and tried to hide her arms. It felt so wrong to be showing this much skin above the waist. 

“Do you… Actually, like this?” 

“Yes! You look hot!” Mercedes clapped her hands. “Those guys won’t know what hit ‘em!” 

“I look like a… slut.” Ronnie muttered. 

“Nonsense! Maybe you need a different top, or perhaps add a jean skirt instead!” 

The songwriter groaned and pushed open the door to the dressing room. If this was what it meant to be Mercedes' new best friend, she might have thought more about that prospect. It wasn’t like the socialite was forcing her to do anything against her will, so she agreed to dress up and model clothes for the rich girl. But, the prospect of getting fired by Mercedes’ CEO father was far more intimidating than doing anything she asked. The next outfit she wore was an off-the-shoulder gray t-shirt with a skull and a pair of boot-cut jeans. Mercedes tilted her head and hummed, tapping her chin. 

“What is it missing?” The blonde squinted in thought. 

Eventually, Ronnie’s torment came to an end. Unfortunately, it was extended for a little longer because Mercedes insisted on buying the clothes she thought Ronnie looked good in. The blue-haired girl tried to protest, but the blonde didn’t want to hear it. At least shopping torture was better than Gustavo’s school of Rocque. She was the only student sitting in a supply closet-sized classroom with a teacher who didn’t want to be there. Instead of math, the washed-up celebrity ranted about how Big Time Rish would become a Big Time Fail. So, while the boys get to go to the school in Palm Woods, their songwriter has to deal with Gustavo at Rocque Records for more than just work hours. 

“Speaking of boys,” Mercedes mused as they returned to her car. “I could get you a date with anyone in Hollywood. Name your type,” 

“Huh?” Ronnie wobbled from the weight of all the shopping bags. “What do you mean?” 

“You know? Do you like hockey players? Musicians? Singers? The sensitive, emotional boys? The bad boys?” Mercedes raised a brow. 

“I mean… I guess I like hockey players…” Ronnie shrugged and tried to catch a bag before it fell. “They are kind of cute.” 

“Wait, really? You like hockey players?” Mercedes' eyes lit up. 

Her nose was buried in her phone, and she was barely paying attention to what was happening around her in the parking lot. Ronnie’s arm shot out when a car backed out of a parking spot. 

“I do have his phone number!” The blonde gasped. “What do you know about Curt Haverfield?” 

“Who?” Ronnie furrowed her brows. “He sounds like a cartoon character.” 

“He’s from North Carolina, and the L.A. Kings are considering him.” 

“I’m guessing that’s the hockey team,” Ronnie rolled her eyes. “I’m also assuming your dad wants him to represent RCM CBT because it could get him more recognition.” 

“Curt is an excellent hockey player. I’ve only talked to him a handful of times, and he’s super nice, too. I think you’d like him.” 

“I don’t know…” 

“Give me your phone.” Mercedes held her hand out. 

Ronnie stared at her open palm for a second and struggled to get her phone out of her pocket. She handed the girl her phone and couldn’t help but cringe. It wasn’t anything fancy. It was a Samsung Epic 4G from Sprint—one of those phones with a QWERTY keyboard. It was nothing compared to Mercedes' iPhone, but the girl didn’t comment. The socialite was more concerned with punching in a phone number with strict concentration. 

“There! You have Curt’s number! I’ll let him know who you are and maybe get him to visit you sometime.” Mercedes chirped happily. 

“I don’t– How– What– “ Ronnie stared wide-eyed at the bubbly girl. 

“Do you… By any chance, do you have anyone I could meet?” Mercedes batted her eyelashes. 

Ronnie opened and closed her mouth; the neurons in her brain hadn’t yet connected. Quickly going through her contacts, she found the only guy that would be a viable candidate. Tyler-Joseph “TJ” Miller. He helped her decide to go to Hollywood.  She handed her phone back to Mercedes. 

“He’s a sweet guy. Knows a little French.” 

“Oh! International!” 

“No, no.” Ronnie shook her head. “He’s from Vermont. I went to high school with him.” 

“Oh–” Mercedes nodded slowly. “If you think so highly of him, he’s perfect!” Mercedes copied his number from Ronnie’s phone. 

When she got home, she was surrounded by what could only be mountains of laundry and empty shopping bags. Ronnie sat in the middle of her room and looked around at everything piled up in the past week. She groaned and leaned back into a pile of dirty laundry. It had been a week, and she still had no idea where the laundry room was. Walking around with a laundry hamper filled with laundry wasn’t the best idea when four hockey players from Minnesota were around. 

“Wait, wait! Ronnie, watch out!” Kendall called her, but it was too late. 

She couldn’t see because of the hamper she was carrying. Their makeshift hockey puck, a simple rubber ball, was under her foot. Her feet flew in opposite directions, and her laundry fell all over her and on the carpeted floor of the lobby. Ronnie sat up and pulled a shirt off of her head. 

“Why are you playing hockey in the lobby!” She snapped. 

“Hockey in the lobby?” It was like Bitters was a bloodhound for trouble. He came out of nowhere, inspecting the scene before him. “No hockey in the lobby!” He pointed to a rule board that also came out of nowhere. “And you, clean up your laundry!” He snapped at Ronnie. 

“They made me drop my laundry!” Ronnie huffed and started picking up her clothing. “Couldn’t you guys have played that outside?” 

“Well, no.” Carlos chuckled awkwardly, helping her pick up her clothes. “There’s a movie shoot outside.” 

“I'm Sorry, Ronnie. I told you to watch out.” Kendall apologized as he helped her up. 

Ronnie narrowed her eyes and turned to her clothes on the floor, kneeling to pick up her garments. Whenever the guys were around, something embarrassing happened. 

“Why are you doing laundry anyway?” Logan asked. “Don’t you have… Too much clothes.” 

“Camille took me shopping, and then Mercedes took me shopping. I couldn’t say no!” 

“I get that,” Logan chuckled awkwardly. 

“I’ll help you carry it. There’s no plausible reason you should be forced to carry this much,” James had gathered some of her clothes in his arms. “It’s only fair.” He shrugged. 

“Do you even know where the laundry room is?” Kendall asked. 

Carlos, Logan, and James could tell quickly that Ronnie was ignoring him. Of course, Kendall was oblivious to it. 

“James, can you show me where the laundry room is?” Ronnie asked, moving aside a piece of clothing so she could look at him. 

“Oh, yeah, sure!” James flashed Kendall a smug grin. 

Kendall’s smile fell off his face. Okay, now he realized she was ignoring him outside of work. Instead of moping, he followed James and Ronnie to the laundry room. It was strange for the four boys to sit in the laundry room while she loaded the washing machine with her laundry, but they kept her company at least. She hummed a melody stuck in her head as she measured laundry detergent. 

“Hey! You could make a song out of that!” Carlos gasped, tapping his foot to the beat. 

“What? No, it was just a silly little tune. It would not be sufficient.” Ronnie laughed and shook her head. 

“Are you seriously doubting your songwriter talent?” Kendall scoffed. 

“I mean, yeah, it’s the melody for Invisible, but that’s not boy band material.” 

Kendall rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall with a pout. 

“Well, what’s invisible about?” Logan asked. 

“I– You really want to know?” Ronnie raised a brow. 

The boys nodded with sparkly eyes. 

“I wrote it when I was in a really bad space. I felt like I was all alone and wanted someone to tell me, ‘Hey, you’re not invisible. I see you.” 

Kendall’s gaze softened, and he shifted. He shoved his hands in his pockets as the gears in his head were turning. 

“That’s perfect! It would be totally relatable for our demographic!” Carlos exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. “Can we see the lyrics? Is it finished?” 

Ronnie took a step back. 

“Yes, it’s finished. No, you can’t see the lyrics.” 

“Why not?” Logan furrowed his brows. 

“You’re our songwriter!” James cried. “Write us some kickass songs!” 

“No.” The washing machine door shut with a loud thud. “It’s a personal song, and there is no way I am letting you four sing all my intimate thoughts!” 

A grin stretched across James’ face, and he nudged Kendall. 

“We would love to sing your intimate thoughts!” James snapped finger guns at her. 

“I can write you another song, but there is no way you’re having that one. It’s mine.” Ronnie set a timer on her phone and sat in an empty chair. 

“Then we can help you make a new one!” A lightbulb went off in Carlos’ head. 

“We just have to orchestrate lyrics.” Logan built off of Carlos’ idea. 

“They’re not listening to me…” Ronnie groaned and leaned her head back. 

Her laundry was done in two hours, and she had to listen to the guys prattle on about the lyrics of their new song. Part of her considered letting them sing Invisible, but she wouldn’t be in the room if they did. The good thing about having four boys in the laundry room with her was that she could make them fold her laundry when it was dried. Hockey players from Minnesota were decent enough at folding laundry. It was her least favorite part about folding laundry, and they were eager to help her faster so they could get started on a brand-new song. 

But when she had to carry her clothes up, Logan, Carlos, and James made some pretty bad excuses and ran away before she could ask them about it. Kendall was nice enough to help her with her clothes. 

“So, is there a reason why you’re ignoring me?” 

“Huh?” Ronnie moved her head around the pile of folded clothes in her hamper. 

“Since the party, you’ve been ignoring me.” 

“So?” 

What– I thought we were friends.” 

“Oh, right. I’m still waiting for that apology.” 

“What apology?” 

“Kendall,” Ronnie sighed. “You were sober. How come I remember what happened?” 

“I didn’t do anything wrong?” 

“Oh, right, because you never do anything wrong. You’re just the sweet boy next door.” Ronnie mocked with a grimace on her face. 

“Okay,” Kendall sighed. “Maybe I was a little too hard on you…” 

“A little? Since you met me, you’ve been giving me the stink eye, and I’m pretty sure you’re under the impression I did something to make your ex-girlfriend leave you.” 

“What do you know about Jo?” 

“Apparently, I know a lot…” Ronnie exhaled sharply. 

“Okay, okay. My breakup with Jo has nothing to do with you whatsoever. I’ll admit it, but I wasn’t expecting you to show up right after she leaves.” 

“What? So I was the metaphorical salt in the wound?” 

“Well, yeah…” Kendall shrugged. 

“You have serious problems.” Ronnie stretched her neck from side to side. 

“It’s not my fault she was my first girlfriend!” 

“Uh, yeah. It is your fault.” 

“Come on, I’m helping you! Can’t be at least be nicer?” 

“I dunno, this is kind of like payback.” 

Ronnie put her laundry hamper down and looked around for the keys to her apartment. Kendall shifted the folded pile in his arms and waited patiently. He followed her into the apartment but stopped before her bedroom door and waited for her to relieve him of the clothing in his hands. This was the second time he had brought clothing to her apartment, and it was the second time something embarrassing had happened in the guys' presence. 

“Thank you.” Ronnie took Kendall's folded pile and opened a drawer in her dresser to put away her shirts. 

Out of curiosity, Kendall leaned forward. He didn’t dare step into her room in case her dad was waiting to snap at him. There were posters on every inch of her walls—Insane Clown Posse, Boyz City, Incubus, My Chemical Romance, The Front Bottoms, etc. 

“You… Uh… You like a lot of bands.” Kendall felt awkward standing there. 

“You can come in. The doors open.” Ronnie rolled her eyes. “I don’t bite.” 

“What’s your favorite band?” 

“Is this a trick question?” Ronnie raised a brow. “I can’t just pick one, but it depends on my mood and what genre I want to listen to.” 

“Not a trick question.” 

“Right now? I’d say Green Day.” 

“Green Day? I thought you were going to say Big Time Rush!”

[phightinghottakes]

I'm gonna be honest, I never really understood the whole "Vine is going to turn into a tree and die!!" thing. I mean her whole arm is a tree already but as far as I know, it's not deadly, just annoying to deal with. Once the curse does spread to her whole body, she'll just turn into a tree but like, uh, like that wood guy from regretevator. Also soda confirmed in of her streams that the curse isn't killing Vine

.

[askcamilenull]

Beginning Part 1 (and Rules/Boundaries)

If not for the simple fact that he could literally feel the poison atmosphere in his lungs, Jack would have suspected the informants information to be faulty at best. he had chosen this city to lay low in for a reason after all. Anything that was likely to be after his head at this time wasn't likely to be able to breathe in this atmosphere at the same time. 

Or at least not anything that had been alive here in the past 10,000 years or so.

 so why Did it look like a girl fresh out of a college party had passed out on this rotting apartment couch? 

It was hard to tell if she was dead or simply sleeping by just looking at her. it didn't look like her chest was rising or falling anyways. Even if she was dead then it looked like she died yesterday. this wasn't the kind of atmosphere that would have preserved a dead body either, not from everything he'd seen so far. 

 and her face, well, it was beyond preserved. it was… well it wasn't hard to look at. She looked at peace and youthful with short, almost fluffy, blue hair. And her clothing was unmistakably Earthling attire. He couldn't even begin to imagine how she gotten here.

His hand twitched at his side. Should he… should he see if he could find a pulse?

He reached out a hand slowly to her, reaching for her own hand. part of him hoped she would wake up just from this contact but no such luck.

Her hand was cold.

 He swallowed but willed himself to focus, feeling her wrist.

 Nothing.

 Sighing, he got back up abandoning her hand, albeit gently.

 It was a shame, as much as he wanted to lay low, he admitted he could have used the company. 

He wandered into the kitchen to give himself some space from the girl, when he stopped up short. marking the entrance to what was left of the kitchen was a pile of wood that he supposed to be a counter, riddled with holes.

But that wasn't what stopped him.

Rather it was what was on top of it

Unmarked by time was a light blue cup, filled with a clear, bubbling liquid and covered completely on the outside by condensation.

Forget the girl's appearance, this was fresh, there was no doubt about it.

He reached out towards it to confirm he wasn’t hallucinating. He even gave the liquid a sniff. It smelled like some off-brand soda, but ordinary nonetheless

Before he could even form any theories, footsteps cracked up from behind him, and he turned to see the girl upright and rubbing at one of her eyes like she had just been crashing at a friend's apartment for the weekend. 

They stared at each other for a few moments before she winked.

“Heya, handsome! Ya mind handing me my drink?”

Then her eye fell out.

Rules/boundaries

Warning: This will contain body horror and dismemberment of a kind as you've seen in the introduction... Camile has a hard time... holding herself together. If that's something that will bother you, I completely understand.

For now, there will be no drawn responses, due to hand pain and other similar problems :/

No pr*shipping or NSFW requests

No hate, bullying, ect.

Please do not use this blog to vent.

Fan content is welcome as long as it doesn't violate the other rules :DDDDDDDDD

Crossovers and rps are extremely welcome as long as it doesn't violate the other rules. :333333333

There will be lore because yes :333333

Admittedly, I haven't yet had the chance to watch Torchwood yet, but I plan on changing that soon. (It's also been a minute since I've watched good old DW.) As such, this won't really follow the lore of the show anytime soon. Even when I watch it, I'll probably take liberties for fun especially since that's what this blog is for.

Well, I think that covers it for now, so ask away.

[lsotp]

Okay okay okay.

Since you confirmed that yes, each individual has a certain scent that they can alter to suit a specific someone's taste, then I just gotta ask.

What are do the SkeleMen's scent smell like?

Could you also do for the Helvetica men too?

I got curious on how Whip (bless his innocent and adorable soul) would smell like. I guessing something smoky yet sweet at the same time.

I thought about it a long time ago and wrote em’ down!

Skeletons and their smells:

Sans- Vanilla and lavender

Papyrus- Oranges and jasmine

Blue- Freshly cut grass and clean air

Orange- Honey and sweet potatoes

Red- Campfire and burning wood

Edge- Carmel apples

Milord- Burning air before a heavy snow and mint.

Mutt- Forget-me-nots

G- Lemonade and Tea

Aster- Caramel and coffee

Mars- Fall leaves and rain

Jupiter- Summer rain and oak

Polaris- Grape soda and sherbet

Ursa- powdered sugar and cocoa

Buck- Clean linens. (Freshly washed sheets.)

Jett- Hot sea salt like smelling the ocean, but without the gross fish smell.

Whip- Watermelon and fire cracker smoke

Cobalt- freshly tilled farmland and Milo

Gaster- Black coffee

Swap- Pancakes

Fell- Cinnamon

Starlord- Strawberry candy

Swiff- orange and blue raspberry popsicle (he’s got an artificial scent to himself, not because the scent is fake, but due to his fake personality he puts on.)

I’d say they’re scents say stuff about them that sometimes isn’t carried over in appearance or personality.

[meowmeow-motherfucker]

The Fox & the Squirrel- Chapter 17

Summary: Chasing yet another demon in a long line of hunts, the Winchesters get help from an unlikely source. But their new recruit isn’t exactly who she says she is. Savannah is used to looking over her shoulder. Life in hiding doesn’t leave much room for enjoyment, but traveling with the Winchesters just may give her a new lease on life.

Fic pairing: Dean Winchester/OFC Savannah Hart

Trigger warnings: elements of horror and witchcraft, references to past torture/trauma, Crowley is a dick, lies and deception, mutual pining, flirting, sex, typical Winchester shenanigans.

Read it on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16242644/chapters/37972217

“I think it's a Rakshasa,” Savannah said, breaking the silence in the car. “It fits with this case you guys worked a few years ago.” She looked up to the front seat for confirmation to find Dean looking at her in the rearview mirror with pride. She smiled, warmth filling her as she turned her attention back to the hunting journal in her lap. 

     “You know that was one of Sam’s favorite cases,” Dean said over his shoulder. Sam looked up from his laptop to glare at Dean. “What?” Sam muttered something that made Dean chuckle, and Savannah turned back to her own research with a smile. 

     They stopped at a rest area a few hours later, Savannah following behind as Dean led her into the surrounding woods. Sam had elected to hang back at the car in order to do more research on the case. 

     “What are we doing here?” she asked as Dean came to a stop near a fallen tree.

     “Rakshasas are vulnerable to pure brass,” Dean replied, shrugging off the bag on his shoulder. “They’re shapeshifters, with the ability to become invisible.”

     “And they also have super strength and speed, right?” Savannah was familiar with many supernatural creatures, but Rakshasas weren’t part of her wheelhouse. Demons, succubi and vampires were more her speed. Well, and poltergeists and wraiths and werewolves too, now.

     “Right,” Dean graced her with a smile, pulling cans of soda out of the bag and lining them along the fallen tree. “They also can’t enter a home without permission.” 

     “Right, I remember about the last one turning itself into a clown to trick kids to let them inside,” Savannah suppressed a shiver. “That’s not creepy at all.”

     “Sammy’s terrified of clowns,” Dean snickered. “I was kidding earlier, he hated that case.”

     “Understandable. So...what are we doing?”

     “ You are gonna learn how to throw a knife,” Dean replied, reaching into the bag and handing her a knife. “Pure brass. Go ahead, take it.” 

     This was fine. Brass she could touch without a problem. 

     Even knowing this, Savannah had to force herself to grab the knife, a small sliver of fear making her worry it was silver. 

     The knife was heavy, but well balanced. She turned it over in her hands a few times, getting used to the weight. Dean flipped his knife, catching it easily even though his eyes were on her.

     Savannah was surprised by the twist of want that bloomed in her gut. That shouldn’t be attractive. Truth be told Dean had a lot of skills that someone of her species should not find attractive, but here she was.

     “Ready?” he asked. When she nodded he flipped the knife again, this time taking the blade between his fingertips. “Let me show you how it’s done, and then we’ll break it down, okay?” 

     “Sounds good.” Dean nodded, facing the fallen log and raising the knife. He turned to face the log, raised the knife and let it fly, easily taking out one of the cans. Savannah blinked owlishly at the practiced ease with which he took out a second and third can. 

     “See? Nothin’ to it,” Dean grinned before retrieving the knives. “Ready to try it out?”

     “Sure, but come on; you can’t really expect me to hit those!” 

     “It’s not that hard once you get the technique down. You’ll do great,” Dean replied. “Come stand here, by me.” 

     “You’re not allowed to laugh when I miss.” 

     “Hadn’t planned on it. Everyone misses, especially at first. Seriously, you’re gonna be fine. Stand here, feet shoulder width apart,” Dean steered her by the shoulders, nudging her feet with the toe of his boot. “Hold the knife between your fingers, eye level, there you go- now aim and throw.”

     The knife sailed past the first can pitifully, and Savannah grumbled with disappointment.

     “Try again.” Dean pressed another knife into her hand, guiding her through the motions again. Her second knife sank into the log with a low thunk. The third grazed its intended can, making it wobble atop the tree bark.

     “It’s okay,” Dean said, thankfully not mocking her for the cattywampus trajectory of her knives. “I’m not expecting perfection. Knife-throwing, or any skill that requires accuracy, takes time to develop. For now I just want to know that you know what you’re doing in case it becomes a necessity. We’ll keep working on it.”

     “Okay,” Savannah nodded before going to grab her knives. 

     Half an hour later she was beyond frustrated, having yet to land a solid hit on any of the cans. She’d grazed a couple, nicking the sides or skimming the tops. 

     “You’re doing fine,” Dean soothed her from the sidelines. “Honestly. You’re holding tension in your shoulders and it’s throwing you off. Take a deep breath, find your center or whatever, and try again.” 

     “Okay, Mr. Miyagi.” Savannah scoffed as she stretched her neck. 

     “Shaddap,” Dean rolled his eyes. “Throw the damn knife.” Savannah rolled her shoulders and faced the log, focusing her attention on the first can. She raised the knife, exhaled, and threw. The knife struck the can dead center, releasing an angry spray of carbonated foam. 

     “There ya go!” Dean crowed from the sidelines.

     “You’re a good teacher, you know. You might want to consider integrating a reward system for good behavior though.” Dean snickered.

     “Oh yeah? What kind of rewards should I offer?” he grinned at her knowingly when she met his eyes, and she felt her face flush. “Oh, I see,” he teased. “Alright, how ‘bout this? You take out the rest of those cans, and you’ve got a deal.” 

     “What?! I can’t do that!” Savannah squawked in protest. Dean shrugged nonchalantly, enjoying riling her up. 

     “Guess you don’t want your reward then.” A cheeky smirk lit up his face.

     “Oh, for- fine,” Savannah huffed, making Dean laugh. She faced the log and took aim, pointedly ignoring the laughter coming from Dean. “Not gonna correct me?” 

     “Nope. You got this.” Savannah rolled her eyes and focused on her target. She took a deep breath, lined up her shot, and stepped forward, releasing the knife as she exhaled. 

     The knife impaled the intended can with another satisfying thunk and spray of soda. Savannah shrieked, amazed she’d hit her target. She turned to Dean to see him staring at the fallen can in amazement. 

     “What are you starin’ at me for? Do it again!” he cried. He handed her another knife, gesturing for her to throw it excitedly. 

     Savannah repeated her steps, taking the time to slow her breathing before releasing the third knife. 

     Thunk-hiss-clink .

     “Holy shit,” Dean laughed. “Again,” he produced a fourth knife, pressing it into her hands eagerly. “Halfway to that reward.” 

     Call it stubbornness or divine intervention, but Savannah managed to take out the remaining cans on the log. Dean was stunned, and Savannah was thrilled. 

     “I’ll take that reward now.” She said cheekily. Dean laughed, pushing off the tree he’d been leaning against to pick up the scattered knives. He gathered them quickly, meeting Savannah where she stood. 

     “You’re demanding.” he griped as he brushed stray hair from her face. 

     “I don’t hear you complaining.” Savannah murmured just before he pressed his lips to hers. He let her control the kiss, just like before, grinning when she pulled him closer and cupped his face in her hands.

     “Did you just hold that over my head so I’d do better?” Savannah asked when they parted.

     “Don’t be ridiculous; I was gonna kiss you whether you hit the cans or not,” Dean chuckled. “But the motivation doesn’t work when you know that, dork.” he booped her nose and smiled, laughing when she slapped at his chest with a scoff. She pulled him by his jacket and captured his lips again, the knives clinking as Dean dropped them to the ground and wrapped his arms around her neck. He licked at her bottom lip, groaning appreciatively when she tightened her grip on his shirt. Her hands found their way under his flannel, fingertips exploring the exposed skin at his waist as she pressed herself against him. 

     They both groaned when his phone rang, ruining the moment. Dean rolled his eyes when he saw it was Sam. 

     “To be continued,” he promised before answering the phone. “Heya Sammy!” 

~~~~

     “Finally.” Dean grumbled after the door clicked shut, draining his beer as the roar of the Impala’s engine filled the room. He’d been chomping at the bit to finish what they started at the rest stop. 

     “What?” Savannah looked up from her book, surprised (and pleased) to see Dean so close.

     “I wasn’t finished with you yet,” Dean said, dipping his head down to capture her lips. “Can I persuade you away from your reading?” Savannah pretended to think, pouting her lips as Dean looked on. 

     “Ask me nicely,” she offered. Dean grinned and gave her a feather light kiss, sweet and full of promise. Savannah set her book aside and cupped the back of his neck, fingers gliding through his soft hair. “Okay, you’ve convinced me.” Dean hummed in satisfaction. 

     “Trust me?” he asked against her lips. 

     “Yes.” Savannah had a mere second to ponder the fact that yes, she did trust Dean, before he was lifting her in a fireman’s carry and moving to the bed. She looped an arm around his neck, nuzzling against his jaw with her head. She felt so small in Dean’s arms, so cherished, for he carried her with the same care that a dragon clutches its treasures. He set her down gently, laying her back against the pillows before sinking a knee onto the mattress.

     “Is this okay?” His proximity made her equal parts excited and anxious. This was the closest to her she’d allowed a person since escaping Crowley. Savannah swallowed nervously, and nodded, quickly deciding she enjoyed his warmth when he lay beside her. He turned those green eyes on her, so intense they made shivers run down her spine. “So gorgeous.” he murmured, slowly leaning in to kiss her. Savannah’s eyes fluttered closed as his lips met hers, his breath fanning over her skin as fingers brushed through her hair ginger-soft to loop the strands over her ear. 

     Savannah slung her arm around Dean’s body, fingers coiling in the flannel at his back. Dean dropped the kiss with a snorted giggle as she tried to wiggle her other arm under him, raising up to let her snake her other arm around his body and quickly reclaiming her lips when she pulled him flush against her. Savannah leaned into him, sighing happily when his arm wrapped around her back, her leg moving to hang over his hip as if on instinct when he pulled her even closer. Savannah could feel a hint of his hardness between her thighs, and she shivered in his grasp. Dean’s hand traveled down her body, fingers digging into her skin as it traveled to the leg she’d thrown over his waist. He gave a grunt of appreciation as he glided his hand up her thigh and around to her ass, eliciting a squeak of surprise when he squeezed the soft flesh. 

     Savannah’s body acted on autopilot, rolling onto her back and pulling Dean with her, her hands roving up his back to cling to his biceps as he slotted his hips between hers. His rough hands cradled her face as his kisses grew faster, using her gasp to his advantage to slip his tongue into her mouth. She dug her nails into his arms, moaning when he gave a short pump of his hips. White heat and lightning shot through her body, and she wanted more of everything he was giving her. 

     “Dean, please.” She begged as his hard cock rubbed teasingly against her clit through their clothes. 

     “Yeah? You like that?” he grunted breathlessly, canting his hips against hers and making her quake with need. Her belly felt tight and her breath hitched, tingles of pleasure racing along her nerve endings. Her mind was consumed by the pleasure Dean was giving her and how good it felt. “I gotcha, princess.” 

     “Yes, fuck, please-ah!” Dean thrust against her again, and Savannah’s brain short-circuited. She dug her nails into Dean’s skin, thighs hugging his sinful hips as he grunted with each thrust. Savannah let her head fall back onto the pillow, each breath a pleasured sigh as Dean nuzzled at her throat and drove her mad. They rutted against each other until Savannah came, letting out a sharp cry of pleasure that was quickly swallowed by Dean’s mouth. 

     “You tryin’ to get us kicked out?” he teased as she panted and whimpered against his mouth.

     “Shut up.”

     “I’m just saying, you’re being awfully loud.”

     “If I’m loud, isn’t it your fault?” Savannah asked.

     “Fair point,” Dean winked at her, grinning when she giggled. “I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick, take care of this.”

     “Oh, I could-”

     “It’s okay, really. Don’t wanna overwhelm you.” Dean slipped out of the bed and into the bathroom. Savannah stayed frozen under the covers until she heard the water start. 

     What the hell had just happened? Her whole body felt heavy and spent, yet somehow...invigorated? Had she accidentally fed on Dean?

     Savannah quickly nixed the idea. She hadn’t felt the urge to feed, only to let Dean drive her to new heights of desire. Her head was swimming and her eyes were growing heavy. She felt warm and content, easily able to take a nap. 

     With the sound of running water in her ears and the amusing half-formed thought of Dean being some sort of incubus on her mind, Savannah dozed off just as Dean had left her.

[the-whumping-hour]

June of Doom Day 2: “Get in” (Survivor’s Guilt / Salve)

CW: Gangs and gang violence, acute stress disorder, brief mentions of other mental illnesses, repeated dissociation, trauma aftermath, repeated references to past murder 

Notes: All characters are roughly 18/19 here. Ayeli uses she/they pronouns. Of the mentioned-but-not-present characters, Dominic is the leader of the gang, and “Marcy” is Ayeli’s brother. This is another backstory piece (there may be a lot of these, this month, because I am trying to establish precedence for more writing on here), so take every bit of characterization with a grain of salt ;) 

Tag List: @lektricwhump

*** 

He tells the story differently every time. Sometimes he heard the sound of the safety clicking off ahead of time, sometimes he dove to the ground, sometimes the bullet grazed him while shielding Emir as the other boy tried to crawl away from the line of fire. 

Sometimes he doesn’t remember anything at all. That’s the most truthful retelling. 

“Noah?” Ayeli's voice is soft at the door. He can picture her fingers poised on the doorknob, the way she would lean her forehead against the wood for a moment as if sending a prayer off for him. 

“Come in.” Noah keeps his voice quiet, swallowing and pushing back the tears burning the corners of his eyes. They can’t know that he was crying again, they can’t see him like this. They wouldn’t ever be able to love him if they saw him like this. He doesn’t look up at the sound of their footfalls crossing the room, nor when the bed dips with their weight, when their arms wrap around him. The smell of gunpowder lingers in the air between them. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”  

“No.” 

There are no more words spoken between them for all the time it takes for him to get the confidence to wipe the faintest tear tracks away.  

“Dominic got a jacket for you. Bit of a different make than mine, ‘cause apparently the guy who made them left the city last month, but it’s basically the same thing. You are the new generation, after all.” A hint of amusement lingers on her lips. He can almost see it. 

“You’re what, half a year older than me?” 

“Been in the gang longer though. I’ve got experience under my belt.” They squeeze his shoulder. “Come on. Dom’s gonna be pissed if another one of his new recruits gets depression.” 

It had been less than a year since he left home. Less than a year and already he was one with the city, always dodging the bigger fish in the pond, laughing with his friends and clambering onto the top of trains to see who could write their name closest to the edge. He hadn’t thought that night would be different. Nothing was different except for the gunfire that followed. 

“I found him!” Her carefree teasing is restrained, but not enough for Noah to not get butterflies. “Think he got lost.” 

“In his own head, maybe.” Julian’s mouth is half-covered by his hand as the other one spins the tab on a can of soda. “Leave the boy alone, he’s been through a lot in the last two weeks.” 

“Haven’t we all?” Ayeli bends a finger and suddenly the TV is turned on. “When did Dom say he wanted to meet up again?” 

“Eighteen-thirty. We’re having a ceremony.” Julian’s fake jazz hands that accompany the word only add to the levels of other-ness that Noah’s been feeling in the past dozen days he’s been with the gang. He still pretends to not feel the way that Julian’s eyes often bore into the back of his head when he’s not looking. Ayeli says he has hypervigilance; Noah says he has creepy as f*ck disorder.  

“Can you drive me to pick Marcy up from school first?” 

The conversation drops out of Noah’s ears. 

He remembers the pain, at least. The burning across the side of his arm, his feet forcing him still for only half a second before running, and there were screams around him and some of them were his own. He’d come back later to look at the bodies. To confirm what he already dreaded. In the moment, though, he didn’t know who it was, he didn’t know where he was going, he just knew he needed to leave.

He was the only one who survived. 

“Hey, hey boy. Snap out of it.” 

He’s seated on the couch now. Julian’s waving fingers in front of his face.  

“Where is... what...” 

“Sometimes that happens,” Ayeli’s next to him now, where did they come from, what? “You’re here. You’re here. Just dissociation.”  

A jingle plays on the television. He feels like he’s floating. 

“Hey, the three of us... we could make, like, a club. Weird trauma club.” Ayeli’s hand is back around his shoulders, and Julian’s wandered back to the floor. And Noah is here. He’s here.  

And Ayeli keeps talking. “I’d be the leader. They say I got a complex stress disorder. It’s from all the—” 

“Noah.” Julian cuts in abruptly. Noah’s almost thankful for it. “How’s your arm?” 

“It’s... it’s feeling better.” The sting of the memory cuts through again. He can’t do this now, he’s here. “I think the stuff is working.” 

“Good.” Julian stands up again now, walking over to the kitchen. “I’m gonna reapply it. Allie, get me a new bandage.” 

The use of a nickname almost angers Noah. Almost. They’re friends, they’ve been through so much, it makes sense. But he’ll never be like that. He’ll always be the ‘new recruit’ until the next kid comes along. It’s awful. He has no one. 

He had them before. But now they’re dead. 

He was hiding in a dumpster when they found him. It was some territorial attack, they said, it wasn’t personal. And of course it wasn’t personal. He’d never hurt anyone, not for real. They were scouting out the damage, trying to plan retaliation. He just happened to be in the middle. They offered him a place, but he would be just another member, just a new recruit.  

He accepted. 

“Good Kings, kid, reposition yourself—” 

“Julie, be nice to him. He keeps zoning out.” 

“Well it’s not my fault.” 

Noah is here. He’s here, he’s back, he’s here. 

The salve burns on his arm. 

“We’ve got you, Noah. We’ve got you.” Her voice is soft like her hands are. She begins neatly wrapping a fresh bandage. “You wanna go back upstairs now? Dominic told us not to overwhelm you too much. You should feel better in a few weeks.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure. Thanks.” His voice sounds hollow as they pull his shirt sleeve back down. Julian pats his shoulder. 

“You need anything, just let us know, ‘kay? We’re here for you.” 

Here for him. They’re here for him.  

They might be the only ones. 

[voraciousvore]

Bucky's (22/44)

Chapter 22: Trouble

Tanya enjoyed, for the first time in a very long time, the luxury of being able to relax and sleep in. She snoozed for a while until she woke up, well-rested. Even though her surroundings were dirty and impractical for her size, she was happy to be free and in control of herself. She wasn’t confined in claustrophobic rooms on the floor in a giant building or on display in a glass box. She didn’t have to fear being eaten either, which was a huge relief. 

Eventually, she got tired of watching TV and sitting on the couch. Ronny had never given her a tour of the gigantic apartment and she wanted to explore. After being locked up for so long, being able to walk around, stretch her legs, and do what she wanted sounded divine. She ate a quick snack and drank some water before descending from the couch to the carpet. Rather than climb down, she jumped onto a pillow that was on the floor and cushioned her fall. Up close, she could see the carpet was full of crumbs and dirt and needed to be vacuumed.  

She didn’t want to judge Ronny too harshly for his messiness. She understood life sometimes got in the way and suspected more was going on with him than met the eye. Above all, he seemed bitter, wounded, and lonely. He must be if he had been desperate enough for companionship to save an insignificant human like her. Tanya felt sorry for him, for whatever he must be enduring beneath the surface. 

She navigated the immense living room, marveling at the incredible scale of the furniture that towered over her. As she stepped around piles of trash and cans, she thought to herself that Ronny might appreciate it if she cleaned up a bit. She couldn’t do much at her tiny size, but she might be able to at least collect the loose garbage into a pile that Ronny could stuff into a trash bag and throw away. Resolved to do good for the Giant who saved her, Tanya designated a corner of the room for trash collection and began dragging plastic and paper wrappers across the carpet to that spot. The labor was tiring, but felt good on her muscles. There were many empty soda and beer cans lying around that were significantly larger than Tanya, but if she knocked them on the side she could roll them into the corner. 

 After making a neat little pile, Tanya decided to take a break and rested against an overturned can. She was far from finished, but the room was beginning to look a bit more cleaned up. She hoped Ronny would be pleased with her work. She wanted him to be happy. She leaned her head back and stared up at the ceiling, which looked like it was miles away. 

Tanya’s thoughts were interrupted by a thunderous banging on the front door. Startled, she leapt to her feet. “Ronaldo Ragoon?” a voice boomed. A Giant fist pounded hard on the wood. “Open the door!” 

Tanya was rooted to the floor, paralyzed, but she consoled herself that the door was locked. Those hostile Giants wouldn’t be able to get in. She clung to that belief, briefly, until the pounding and banging intensified to where it rattled the entire room all the way down to her bones. With a resounding crash, the door was busted in and several enormous Giants stormed the apartment. Without any time to spare, Tanya ducked inside the can to hide. 

“Geez, this place is a dump,” one of the Giants rumbled. “Are you sure this is the right apartment? If I was taking a girl home, I’d at least clean up first.” Tanya felt offended on Ronny’s behalf at these comments. 

“It’s just a pathetic little human he stole,” another Giant remarked. “Why bother?”

“This is the correct apartment,” another deep voice confirmed, and Tanya’s blood ran cold. She knew that voice all too well. Bucky. Bucky was here, in the flesh. The infamous Giant had come for her. How did he know? Tanya shuddered. She had no idea what horrors he had prepared for her if she was caught. “Find the human. Leave no stone unturned.” 

“Stone? We’re inside.” 

“It’s a metaphor, you dimwit. Just do what you’re good at and search.” Bucky rolled his eyes at the idiocy of his goons. The other two brutes began violently tearing the room apart, searching for Tanya. She huddled inside the can, too petrified to move. She wasn’t sure if she had a decent hiding place or not. The Giants stomped all over the apartment, causing earthquakes and vibrating the cans on the floor. They aggressively checked all the rooms, overturned the couch cushions, pulled out drawers and dumped out their contents, and rifled through all of Ronny’s personal effects. His apartment was cluttered before, but now it was completely trashed. 

“Are you sure we’re not wasting our time here? This Ronny fellow could’ve just eaten the human when he got home,” one of Bucky’s minions pointed out. 

“No, dumbass. Nobody steals a human just to eat it and be done with it. If they wanted to do that, they could just eat at the restaurant,” Bucky snapped. “This Giant is definitely a human sympathizer. He stole my property to save it for himself. Isn’t that obvious?” 

“What if he took the human with him to work? We can go pay him a visit,” the other thug suggested. 

Bucky shook his head. “It’s not that simple. He works at Big Corp Inc., our main business partner. We can’t just show up on their turf and start roughing up one of their employees. That would cause... friction. I’d rather avoid that if possible.” Bucky thought for a moment. “I’ll get in contact with the CEO. I’m sure we could work something out. Do one final sweep; make sure we didn’t overlook any hiding spots. Remember, humans are very small and easy to miss.” 

“Did you check this pile of trash over here?” one of the Giant voices boomed, frighteningly close. Tanya retreated to the base of the can, desperately hoping she wouldn’t be seen. A Giant shoe thudded down at the entrance to the can. Tanya could hear the gargantuan man pawing through the garbage, searching, making the cans clink against each other. Her can was tapped and rolled a few feet, making her lose her balance and topple forward into a shallow pool of leftover drink.  

A sickening metal crunch echoed from outside her shelter, bouncing the can. Another loud crunch resounded from the other side. Tanya realized, with a jolt of horror, that the Giant was smashing the cans underfoot. The Giant kicked one of the pulverized cans, sending it flying across the room. Tanya rolled back into the aluminum wall and curled up into a tight ball, helpless to resist. If she tried to run, she’d be seen. If she stayed in the can, she’d be squashed. She repressed a scream. She was going to die. 

The Giant stomped on the can she was inside, crushing it. He kicked the remnants to the side and continued to search. A trickle of dark liquid leaked out from a flattened portion of the can where the metal had been ruptured. When the brutes still failed to locate the human, they finally gave up and left the apartment, not bothering to close the door behind them. Bucky was pleased that he had at least sent a clear message to Ronny, a dreadful warning. The apartment was silent and motionless in their wake. 

In the meantime, Ronny was still at work, unaware of the men ransacking his apartment. The day was nearly done, with only an hour or so to go, and he was getting antsy. Initially, he had planned to search the nearby shops for human stuff, but he decided instead he wanted to go back and check on Tanya first. Even though he figured she was fine, he still worried about her. He got up out of his seat to top off his coffee one more time so he could power through the last hour. 

As he entered the breakroom, he noticed the three human employees that worked on the third floor talking amongst themselves in a discreet corner. They stiffened and went silent upon seeing him, eyeing him warily. He pretended not to notice them and filled up his coffee cup before walking out. 

Candy exhaled. “That was close. I could’ve sworn he saw us.” 

Connie nodded. “So what do you think about what he said? Don’t you think it’s odd? I can’t make heads or tails of it.” 

“I don’t know,” Candy admitted. “Ronny has always hated humans. So why would he want to buy human things all of a sudden?” 

“What if... he’s planning to keep a human as a pet?” the third human, Casey, piped up. She was a petite young woman with light brown hair and freckles. 

Candy went white as a sheet. “Just to torment the poor individual?” She remembered how Mr. Hardon, her creepy old boss, had nearly succeeded in kidnapping her and felt like vomiting. She knew Ronny’s sadistic streak would not bode well for any human in his care. The other two humans looked ill as well. 

“I can’t see him having anything other than malicious intent,” Casey concurred. 

“I’ll tell Martin so he can keep a lookout,” Candy assured the other two. “Hopefully he can protect us, or any other humans, from Ronny’s wrath.” 

“You’re lucky to have him,” Connie remarked, a bitter edge to his tone. He sounded jealous. Whether through ignorance or innocence, Candy overlooked his negativity. “The day’s almost done. We should probably head back to our desks.” She waved goodbye to her coworkers and they separated. 

Later on, Ronny finished up his work and turned off his computer. Martin passed by him to reach Candy’s desk. The love-struck couple kissed and hugged and conversed with cutesy, adoring words that made Ronny want to puke. Scowling, Ronny stood up and shouldered his way past the couple, glaring at both Martin and Candy. Martin held Candy closer to his broad chest protectively and narrowed his eyes at Ronny. Candy whispered something to Martin, out of Ronny’s range of hearing, that made Martin furrow his brow. He watched Ronny suspiciously with his stormy eyes until Ronny entered the elevator and the doors slid closed. 

Ronny was fuming. Seeing those two, so disgustingly in love with each other, sickened him. He wanted to smash Martin’s repulsive face in with his fist. He wanted to crush Candy in his hand and throw her mangled body against the wall. He dug his nails into his palms, muttering curses under his breath. His fiery temper started to burn with resentment like a furnace fed with coal. 

Then, his thoughts turned to Tanya. The burning magma of his rage slowly drained out of him, cooled with a softer sentiment. He didn’t want to come home to her smoldering with wrath. She didn’t deserve that. She deserved somebody soft and caring and understanding. Ronny didn’t know if he could be that person for her. Nonetheless, he calmed his temper and tried to forget his woes as he walked home. 

He started to brighten up as he approached his apartment. Today was different than other days, when he’d come home to an empty apartment and barricade himself in seclusion and misery for the evening. He had someone to look forward to now, someone who made him feel like more than just a shell of a man. He wondered if Tanya would be happy to see him. He would have to do something special for her. Maybe take her someplace nice, once she became less afraid of him and other Giants. He hoped she wouldn’t look at him with fear when he entered through the door. 

His elation morphed into concern when he noticed the door to his apartment slightly ajar. He quickened his pace and pulled open the door. Concern transformed into horror when he beheld the wreckage inside. His apartment had been destroyed: overturned furniture, empty drawers tossed all over the place with their contents spilled out, garbage everywhere mixed with his personal belongings. The rooms looked like a tornado had ripped through. 

“Tanya?” Ronny called. He was met with ominous silence. He stepped through the entryway, scouring the space with his eyes. “Tanya?” 

Nothing. He carefully walked through the mess, watching his feet to make sure he didn’t step on the little human if she was on the floor. “Tanya!” he yelled, raising his voice. “Tanya!! Are you here?” 

His heart dropped into his stomach when his calls were not answered. He meticulously checked each room, searching for Tanya and shouting out her name, but she didn’t materialize. He became more frantic, less careful with his feet. He kept looking even as the truth became clear. She was gone. Ronny had failed to protect her. He returned to the living room in defeat. He fell to his knees and tore at his scalp with his hands.  

He hated to think what might have happened to her. Was she still alive? Had Bucky tracked him to his apartment, snatched her up, sliced her to ribbons? Taken her back to the restaurant and punished her? He couldn’t imagine her last moments of horror and fear. He clenched his fists against his thighs and lamented. All the energy drained out of his body and he collapsed on the floor like a slug. He lay among the clutter and trash, the wrappers and crushed cans, and choked back a heaving sob. 

Chapter 23

Chapter 1

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[reverend-dog]

Meeting the Folks

The front door slammed shut behind Jerry, shoved by Sasha next to him. Jerry barely registered the noise. He felt paralyzed, his eyes refused to look away from the sight before him.

“Oh, my god!” Sasha cried indignantly. “Mom, Dad! You knew I was bringing Jerry over tonight! What the hell are you thinking?”

Mom and Dad stared back in credible imitation of deer in headlights, their poleaxed expressions in stark contrast to the vibrant assurance of their clothing. Mom wore red and orange with gold accents in a flame motif, while Dad’s outfit featured rings of dark blue, light blue, and silver. Both suits hugged their wearers like a second skin, and in public would be complemented with masks that left only the bottom half of their faces exposed.

“Baby!” Mom blurted, and offered a grin thrown off-balance by surprise. “We didn’t plan this!”

“Right!” Dad confirmed, and tugged on the seam of his suit as if stripping down could repair the damage. “Uncle Adam and Aunt Carrie were running late --”

“Dale!” Mom scolded. “Codenames!”

Jerry turned to Sasha, eyes wide. “Your parents,” he took care to enunciate his words, “are Strobe and Hotshot? Of Equinox?”

Sasha nodded, weak smile beneath eyes full of tears. “But don’t believe all the news!” she pleaded. “A lot of stuff they get blamed for, they didn’t do! Or it wasn’t their fault!”

Jerry’s eyes swung from Sasha to her parents to the door, as if calculating his chances of escape. “I’m not gonna get mindwiped, am I?” he voiced his dread. “Or… vanished?”

“No!” Sasha scoffed, and glanced to her parents for affirmation. They both nodded vigorously. “Even if they had that ability, they’d never! Especially not – not to you!”

“How abut this?” Mom suggested, her voice full of sweet reason. “You two go sit down in the den, maybe get some soda from the bar. We’ll go finish changing, and we can talk this all out.” She offered an incandescent smile. “How does that sound?”

Sasha grabbed Jerry’s arm. “That’s a good idea!” she cried. “Come on, Jerry! You drink ginger ale, right?”

Jerry let Sasha drag him sideways through a doorway, into a cathedral-ceilinged room with elegant wood and stone décor. “Here,” she invited, and released Jerry’s arm with a gentle, well-intentioned shove that made him land on the sofa. She pranced across the room to a bar that stretched along one wall, and came back with two cans, which she opened with a practiced flick of her thumbs.

Struggling to catch up, Jerry accepted the can but stared down into the hole in the top, as if in anticipation of something springing up to latch onto his face. Sasha placed herself next to him, her thigh a mild heat against his. “I’m sorry it came out like this,” she offered, face serious.

Jerry looked at her, and even in this situation felt struck by her beauty. He knew he was strictly average, physically and scholastically, and had wondered how he had scored a girlfriend like Sasha. With an effort, he brought himself back to her statement. “How did you mean for it to come out?” he wondered, fighting to keep his own tone level.

Sasha grinned an awkward grin and shrugged. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I didn’t really think that far ahead. I guess I was kind of waiting to see how serious we were going to get.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Jerry allowed with a nod. “So,” again he struggled to sound casual, “do you have – I mean, can you --”

“Do stuff?” Sasha finished, and nodded. She held up one hand, fingers spread, and looked at it intently. Sparkles danced between her fingers, grew thicker and thicker, and erupted into a fountain of light. “It doesn’t really do anything yet,” Sasha assured him. “Mom and Dad say it’ll get stronger as I get older. And no,” she turned on him with a stern look, “I’m not part of the business. They’re adamant that I make up my own mind about that, and only after I graduate.”

Jerry nodded. “Reasonable.”

Mom and Dad appeared, looking so normal that Jerry almost persuaded himself he had imagined the earlier scene. Mom crossed to the bar. “The usual, honeybunch?” she asked.

Dad settled himself in one of a pair of recliners. “Thanks, lovebug,” he returned, then regarded Jerry. “So, Jerry,” he opened, then chuckled. “I was about to make the usual small talk. But we’re a bit past that, aren’t we?” He nodded in agreement with his own question. “First, I promise you’re in no danger. Our work does take us into some shady places, and we sometimes have to deal with unpleasant people, but!” He stuck a finger in the air, and a tiny flash popped from its tip. “We never take from anybody who can’t spare it, and we use only as much force as we need to make sure we get home at the end of the day.”

“Dale’s telling nothing but the truth, Jerry,” Mom chimed in as she emerged from behind the bar. She handed Dale a tall tumbler filled with what looked like iced tea, and perched in the other recliner, a shorter glass in her hand with clear liquid and an olive. “The lies those people spread!” She shuddered, and sipped her martini. “It took a lot of to convince Sasha they’re just making us look bad to cover their own sins, and believe me, they do sin!”

Jerry took a gulp from his ginger ale, but his throat was so dry he nearly gagged. “So,” he started, and cleared his throat, “so what happens now? Are you just going to let me go? Aren’t you worried I might tell somebody?”

Mom and Dale exchanged knowing smiles, and from the edge of his vision Jerry saw Sasha’s smile flash. He had to wonder, did it really flash?

“Go ahead,” Dale invited. “Go to the police. Hell, EAGLE has an anonymous tip line, call them!” He drew from his tumbler, and smacked his lips. “Want to know why we’re not worried?”

“Dale,” Mom warned.

“Don’t worry, Paige,” he reassured her with a pat on the knee. “It’s safer, Jerry, if you just take us at our word when I tell you that there’s nothing you can do that poses a threat to us.” He smiled, and Jerry felt certain extra light came from his teeth. “Besides, you and Sasha are so good together. You should hear the way she talks about you!”

“Dad!” Sasha scolded, cheeks red.

“Don’t tease, Dale,” Paige admonished, but made her own jab. “But I have to agree, you two do make a cute couple.” She launched from her chair. “So, let’s have dinner! I ordered Thai!”

“Great!” Dale exclaimed, and stood with equal enthusiasm. “I’m starved!”

[dankusner]

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"Milestones"

I crawled through the forest of Tennessee / All on my hands and knees

Not seeing the wood for the trees / Till I got to Los Angeles

First thing that I learned at the juncture / Evil is not my true nature

So even though you drove me to terror / I don't have to be that her I don't have to be that she / This is where I get to be me

This is where you don't get to make me / This is where you don't get to create me

I slept outside in the dog shed / Because you wouldn't let me keep my iPad

I've had less rights as a woman / Then the dog is my eternal form

And it remains the same / Yes it remains the same Let's start with the name / You can shove it where you keep all your pain

I drove through the graveyards of Dixon / Of which there are still black and white ones

What a thing to happen in the nation / Even in death, segregation

One day we'll sit with our maker / Discuss over biscuits and soda

Which one of you and me was braver / Which one of us was a true soldier?

With his ten working principles for a healthy society, Dr. Phil provides the tools for mainstream America to fight back against the forces of division with sensible and urgently needed advice supported by the latest social, medical, and psychological findings.

(It is helpful to arrive with this confirmation, but not required.) Please arrive between 8:00 – 8:15 AM Central Standard Time.   Your spots are only guaranteed until the above time – so plan accordingly for heavy traffic!  Taping will last until approximately 1:30 PM Central Standard Time.     PRODUCTION POLICIES:  AGE LIMIT: All guests must be 16 years of age or older. All guests under 18 must have an adult guardian.  Please dress appropriately in dark business attire.  DRESS TO IMPRESS. Please avoid logos, busy patterns, and bright clothing as it does not show well on camera. Shorts, T-shirts, jeans, and hats are NOT permitted. A jacket or sweater is suggested as it is cold in the studio. Remember - DRESS TO IMPRESS!  The entire experience will last 5-6 hours, including check-in and two episode tapings. You will be expected to stay for BOTH episodes unless otherwise noted. There will be a break between episodes, during which we will provide a light snack and beverage (but feel free to bring any provisions of your own).  We encourage you to bring your cell phones, cameras, and electronic devices to take photos of the new and exciting “Dr. Phil Experience”! They will then be collected before walking to the stage. Weapons, knives, backpacks, laptops etc. are NOT permitted inside the building. YOU MUST LEAVE THEM IN YOUR VEHICLE.     ALL TAPINGS ARE SUBJECT TO CHANGE OR CANCELLATION.    LOCATION and PARKING:  The studio entrance is at 5501 Alliance Gateway Freeway, Fort Worth, TX 76177 (just south of Roanoke).  Free parking is available at the studio. There will be signs to follow to the audience entrance.  *** If anyone in your party requires special accommodation to attend Dr Phil Primetime, please contact us ASAP so that appropriate arrangements can be made. (Persons with special needs may include guests with an impairment or disability who require reserved wheelchair-accessible seating and/or companion seating.) ***

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Do you think mainstream America needs to find its voice? If so, you’re not alone. The country is under attack by extremists at the fringes who put ideology before sanity and stoke division for their own gain. They are trying to rob America of its common sense and deny empirical truths, and we’re all suffering the consequences.

In We’ve Got Issues: How You Can Stand Strong for America’s Soul and Sanity, Dr. Phil employs his signature no-nonsense approach to analyze America’s cultural crisis and offers practical, empirically based, action-oriented strategies to restore and support our country’s collective mental health.

This compelling work combines a brutally honest look at the sustained attack on the core values that have defined America at its best and offers prescriptive guidance on what you can do in your own life to stop the madness. With his ten working principles for a healthy society, Dr. Phil provides the tools for mainstream America to fight back against the forces of division with sensible and urgently needed advice supported by the latest social, medical, and psychological findings.

Dr. Phil demystifies the “tyranny of the fringe” and deconstructs their assault on the principles that made our nation prosperous, free, and powerful. With the hard-earned wisdom of years spent working with Americans of all backgrounds, Dr. Phil charts a course from cancel culture to counsel culture, from fear to acceptance, from victimhood to community, and from the tyranny of the fringe to a more civil society where we heal our divides and every one of us decides to be who we are on purpose. Dr. Phil is here to show us how.

"I meet the psychiatrist at the trunk of his car as I’m stomping back from the garden toward my room. He offers me a fig bar. What the fuck does a rocker want a fig bar for? Is he crazier than me? I tell him, “No thank you, fig bars are for hippies.”