#sorry this is a lot of terry I only have so much to work with here

[angelspawned]

when somebody needs you, will wood // dndads s2e45 // taking turns, the crane wives // don’t know how to keep loving you, julia jacklin // dndads s2e45 // this is how we lay, dogbite // honeytuesday // dndads s2e1 // townie, mitski // us against you, fredrik backman

[ariaste]

Apparently there was some lil drama in Good Omens fandom again about people being deeply nervous and scared of the end of Season 3, and I wrote this in the replies of one of the asks that Neil Gaiman answered, but I feel like it is deserving of being crossposted into its own post (in a slightly expanded form) so folks actually see it.

cmere, good omens fandom, we're having an intervention. a Come To Jesus talk, if you will.

First of all, I'm literally begging the fandom to:

learn what personal boundaries are, especially around parasocial relationships with strangers. (Suggestion: When sending asks to authors you like, use "polite work email" etiquette, not "joking with a friend" etiquette. The latter comes off REAL weird sometimes, and sometimes outright mean/rude/bullying).

take a couple deep fucking breaths

embrace the philosophy of The Author's Intent Only HAS To Matter To The Author, It Does Not Have To Matter To YOU. If you do not like the author's intent, you can say "hmmmm no thanks" and write some fanfic. That's what it's for.

Friends, Romans, countrymen..... Stop trying to make Neil Gaiman responsible for your happiness. For one thing, that is an absolutely unfair and cruel burden to put on a stranger who doesn't know you. Neil is only responsible for Neil's happiness. You're responsible for your own happiness. In fact, do not rely on ANY external source to guarantee your happiness, not even very nice people like Neil, not even your significant other, not even your family members. Yes, those people might be able to help you with your happiness, but they cannot guarantee it. Expecting a third party to guarantee your happiness is how corporations exploit you, and it is the source of all media trauma. Take agency over your own joy! Don't give away your power! Plan to DIY your personal ideal ending!

Neil is not telepathic, Neil cannot know all your hopes and dreams and wishes, nor SHOULD he be expected to know them, nor does he have space to know them. He is busy with things like his own and Terry's hopes and dreams and wishes. Their hopes/dreams/wishes are just as valid and important as yours, aren't they? Yes, they are. So calm down. caaaaaaaallllllm dowwwwwn.

Yes, I love the show very much too, but at the end of the day it is just a story. And the great thing about stories is that you are empowered to retell them in a different way. It is not real, so if you end up unsatisfied by S3, then blithely impose your own reality and build your own joy. It's not like it's the End Of The World or anything (lil fandom joke there for you)

And look, if you read this and you're feeling Mad and Upset or Frustrated about it, that is a symptom that you are maybe feeling a little stung in your Media Trauma parts. I am sorry that other stories have let you down in the past, and I really sympathize that you are feeling scared about the fate of this story that really matters to you. You've invested a lot of love into it! I really understand the fear! You don't want to be hurt again, and that's super understandable and normal.

But bestie, literally the only way for you to find a story that's exactly perfect for you and that won't hurt you at all is for you to write it yourself. I know that sucks to hear, but it is the truth. If you keep pinning a hope of perfection on other people's stories, you will keep getting traumatized by the media you consume. Love other people's stories for what they ARE, not for the stories that you WANTED them to be -- the same way that we love people, you know? You have to let a person be their own person; you can't force them to be someone else. That's fucked up, so if you notice that you keep trying to do that, maybe go to therapy so you can be that Someone-Else person for yourself (or, if you can't afford therapy, read some self-help books from the library or find some good channels on Youtube who make content that might help with that (I really like JulienHimself)).

If you need a story to be something big and important for you, if you are seeking catharsis and healing from a story that matters to you and you're really scared that you won't get it, then open a Word document and start typing. You can do it. You're a human being, and you evolved to tell stories. Literally it's a species specialization. You got this. It's gonna be okay, because you're going to seize the means of production and MAKE it okay. Yes? Yes.

Good Omens S3 will be what it will be. It will be what Neil wants it to be and what Terry would have wanted it to be. Period. That IS actually the highest achievement and the most noble and admirable accomplishment that we can hope for. And hey, maybe what they want overlaps with what you want, and that will be wonderful! But that will be merely a happy coincidence. The only person who can TRULY center your wants is YOU. So stop trying to trap Neil into doing it, please, because he's busy and it's not his job, AND because your wants do matter and you deserve to have someone who can give your wants their 100% full attention (aka you. that's you. only you can do that. Not even your best friends in the world can do it. Not even your mom can do it, at least not if you're old enough to know how to read.)

It's gonna be okay. Really. Really, it is. No, stop typing the snarky melodramatic reply. This is not the time for jokes; I'm being serious. It's going to be okay. Neil Gaiman can only break your heart exactly as much as you allow him to do so. That's how art works. You have to consent in order to be affected by it, and you can withdraw your consent at any time. You're going to be okay. I promise. As long as you choose to claim your own agency and your own empowerment as an individual, then all will be well and all manner of things will be well.

[neil-gaiman]

Hi! Sorry to bother. I’ve written this and deleted it several times, but hopefully my words work. I just wanted to say thank you.

I grew up in an *extremely* fundamentalist church and surrounded in that culture. There was a lot of abuse and trauma connected to the church, especially because I was the only small kid there that wasn’t male nor neurotypical. I ran away when I finally left for college several years ago - but it’s something that I still have nightmares about.

I spent a long time dealing with the PTSD/depression, religious trauma, and deconstructing/questioning the programming. I’m still dealing with it, but working on it. So it goes.

I just wanted to say that I appreciate you, Terry, and everyone who’s put so much effort and love into the Good Omens series. I know it sounds silly, but it’s been weirdly helpful in dealing with the religious trauma.

The idea of it being an “institutional problem” instead of me somehow doing something wrong, that maybe it’s not sinful to tell someone ‘no’ or question authority, that being human isn’t bad, etc - these were things that I didn’t even consider possible growing up. It’s comforting and encouraging to see those things in the book and on the screen.

Thank you.

I'm glad.

[attapullman]

Pretend | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You aren't sure what's worse: having to share a bed with the boy who was your first boyfriend who you haven't seen in years, or having to pretend he's your boyfriend when you wish he actually was.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: f!reader, light smut, 18+ only as always, unprotected pinv, fake dating trope, one bed trope, lots of switching between present and past tense whoops

A Note From Mo: It's Choose-a-Fic! Thank you to everyone who voted and has been part of my 500 Follower milestone! Hopefully you like the fic I wrote just for you (with a little extra one bed trope as a special thank you)! 😘

Coupe glasses tinkle and laughter rings out as the rehearsal dinner draws toward an end. Everyone’s had a little too much of the hotel’s signature white sangria. On your left, Isabel and Reuben are frozen in blissed smiles, the outdoor lights casting an ethereal glow. An idyllic night before the wedding.

You should be relaxed. You’ve had a little wine, the most delicious dinner, and tomorrow your college roommate is getting married at this stunning resort. But every time that big hand grazes your shoulder or his breath heats the skin of your cheek, you’re reminded none of this is real and you desperately wish it was.

The only difference between six-year-old Robert Floyd and the man standing in front of you is the broad shoulders. Those pink cheeks are just as prominent and his eyes are wide behind updated corrective frames. Sandy hair politely brushed off his face. Even his thin lips warp in that same warm smile that instantly relieves tension. The only significant difference is those shoulders that fill out the entire doorway as he checks his rooming assignment with Isabel.

From where you stand behind her, suitcase in tow, you feel your cheeks warm and your gaze drop. You haven’t seen him since the engagement party where you muttered, “it’s a small world after all” more than once. It seemed all too coincidental that your college roommate would be marrying a guy who just happens to be in the same Navy squadron as your first grade boyfriend. 

To be fair, you had “dated” Bobby Floyd for a total of a week before your parent’s divorce landed you on the opposite side of the country. There hadn’t even been a formal breakup. He’d simply been the guy you jokingly referred to as your “first love” at wine nights. Occasionally you remembered his collection of vintage Coke bottle caps. 

He was practically a figment of your imagination until Isabel introduced you to the man in the nicely ironed pale blue button down and you sputtered out that you already knew each other.

You’re so lost in how bizarre the coincidence of it all is that you zone out through Bob’s check-in and the next few guests that arrive. It’s not until her line of relatives has dwindled that she remembers you’re sat behind her, sorting out the favors for after the reception. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should have given you your card earlier!” she apologizes as she flips back over her clipboard to find your room number. It’s all forgiven, you were waiting to finish up your bridesmaid duties before checking in. Get the work out so you can slip on your bathing suit and enjoy the amenities - pool, sun, and cabana boys - before dinner tonight.

She hands you a room card and walks you through the map of the hotel. You miss the second half while gathering up all your items, mentally trying to remember exactly how many rights before a left. Dinner is at seven and anything else surely she will remind you. With a kiss to her cheek, you head off to your room to begin the fun part of this destination wedding.

The property is stunning, all sun-washed sandstone and lush tropical plants. Deep blue terry cloth draped over the sun loungers you would live on all weekend. Some sun to compliment what should be a flawless wedding weekend. Maybe you’d get lucky and one of Reuben’s hot Navy friends would join you for some eye candy. You deserved a little one-weekend-in-paradise romance.

Suite 4. It’s a little deflating to remember that you’re in this big suite alone because all the other bridesmaids have dates. A least you have some privacy. The intricately carved door accepts your room key and you push the heavy wood open, ready to change and relax.

W-why was Bob in your villa?

Standing amongst the floor-to-ceiling windows draped with ochre that overlook the ocean, white oak furnishing topped with plush linen bedding, and a trailing pothos overtaking the wall, was Bob Floyd - right in the middle of changing his shirt. Equally wide eyes taking you in as he held the bunched heathered grey cotton right in front of his head, thumbs through the head hole, mouth open in shock.

“What are you doing in here?”

What was he doing in here? This was your room. “Why are you in my room?”

Despite knowing he’s not in the wrong, his cheeks tinge a deep pink. Takes a moment to pop his head in the hole of his shirt and brush out the wrinkles. You cling to to the annoyance of him interrupting your afternoon instead of focusing on how toned he’s gotten as an adult.

“This is my room. Suite 4. See?” He holds up a card identical to yours, the glossy ‘4’ reflecting the sunlight. The same ‘4’ that looks back at you. 

Clearly there’s been some sort of mistake, someone at reception accidentally typing in the wrong number while going about their busy day or Isabel reading her meticulous list wrong. An easy fix. 

You bite your lip. “Oh. Maybe I grabbed the wrong card. I’ll go find Isabel and sort it out.”

“I’ll come with you, she might have handed me the wrong card. Probably supposed to be sharing a bed with Fanboy.” He’s impossibly sweet as always. 

You have no idea who or what a Fanboy is, but you accept his company back to reception, leaving your bag in the room purely because the bridesmaid dress alone weighs a half ton. The walk back there - with a few long turns - is a tad awkward as you both walk in silence, occasionally jerking your heads in the direction to turn.

Isabel has wandered away from reception, and is now soaking in one of the poolside bars with Reuben, their lovesick smiles contagious. She gives you the warmest smile when you approach, face splitting in two as she takes in your companion. “Hey, you two! You get settled in okay?”

God, this is awkward. Thankfully before you can muster the courage, Bob steps in. “I think there’s been a mix up with one of our rooms.”

Her eyebrows furrow as takes in what he said. Eyes flit to her lounger where her clipboard of rooming assignment lies within her tote. Reuben sips his frozen margarita in casual interest, not involved in the logistics.

“Which room are you in?” Even without her clipboard, Isabel is pretty sure she knows who is in what room. She spent months perfecting these details.

You hold up the glossy ‘4’, now slightly sticky with your sweat.

“Four? Hmm, I’m pretty sure that’s right. Was there a problem with the key? Both your keys?”

You give her a bewildered look. “One of us has the wrong key. We’re not sharing a room.”

“Why not? Your prude parents aren’t here to care if you share a room with your boyfriend.”

Every muscle in your body freezes. What is she talking about?

And while you’re paralyzed on the spot, Reuben looks like he’s about to throw up the margarita. Because he knows exactly what just happened. And not only is it his fault, but he does not have a solution.

Before you can question Isabel, the pilot is throwing his arm around your shoulders and grabbing Bob’s elbow, whisking you two away, calling out to his confused fiancée not to worry, he’s got it handled. The controlled hands of a fighter pilot steering you back in the way of Suite 4 while his face reads like he’s watching a plane crash.

Reuben won’t answer any of your questions, holding up a palm while you sputter out the who, what, where’s? of what is going on. Bob silently allows himself to be directed, confusion upon his brow, but patient enough to wait for an explanation. 

Once you’re privately within the confines of Suite 4, the soft scent of bergamot and sandalwood wrapped around your bodies, Reuben finally confesses his mistake.

“Isabel thinks you two are dating.”

You expect to see eyeballs on the floor from how violently they pop out of your head. What? Bob doesn’t look much better. You two have barely spoken in decades, let alone are in a relationship! Why in the hell would Isabel think that?

Reuben drags a hand down his face, wishing he was back in the pool drinking. “When Bob over here told me that you two dated way back, I casually mentioned it to Is. When she asked the other week if he’d be good sharing a room, I thought she meant Fanboy or Harvard.”

You skip over the fact that Bob has talked about you to other people to focus on the details. “She meant me.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” By this point he’s rubbing the skin on the back of his neck raw, eyes wildly desperate. “Can you two share? It’s only two nights.”

Your eyes meet ocean blue as you both look at the single bed, then at each other. Bob intervenes calmly. “Why can’t you just tell her we need another room?”

Reuben crosses his arms across his chest, suddenly defensive. “We don’t have any other rooms. We booked the place out entirely. Short of Aunt Muriel keeling over, one of you would have to be at another hotel.”

“That’s fine,” you quip, grabbing your suitcase and ready to get the hell out of this situation.

“There’s nothing within a half hour drive. And you’re both in the wedding, that is not going to fly with Isabel.”

You’re tough, you can do hard things. Two nights at a gorgeous resort where you have to share a king-sized bed with the sweetest man on the planet? Could be so much worse. From a look at Bob’s face, he’s having the same realization.

And right as you’re about to tell Reuben that it’s not a big deal, he sends in the clincher. 

“You’re also gonna have to pretend you’re dating.”

“You’re joking.” Your tinny voice rings out in the room. You can do a lot of things - go to a wedding alone, sleep in the same bed as Bob - but you draw the line at pretending you’re dating someone you hadn’t seen until an engagement party six months ago. Nope, no way.

You look at Bob, standing with his hand resting low on his hip, watching this entire scene unfold. Giving him an expectant look, he smooths out his face and gives you a little nod. He’s on whatever team you’re on.

And just as you were about to tell Reuben to get lost, Isabel’s sweet face floods your mind’s eye. That happy smile she always greets you with, and her dismay that something had gone wrong with your room. Her perfectly planned out wedding weekend ruined by her misunderstanding a minor detail. She would insist that you have separate rooms, even if it interfered with plans, and she’d be upset - the smallest tinge of disappointment clouding her bridal smile.

Isn’t the job of a bridesmaid to make the bride not have disappointment?

And now, sitting here at the rehearsal dinner, warm conversation all around you, you can still hear yourself let out a large huff of breath and agree. “Alright, we can pretend for the weekend.”

It’s a decision you stand by, but doesn’t make the subtle way Bob has been playing your boyfriend the last 24 hours any easier. He plays devoted partner a little too well. Carrying your beach bag down to the water that afternoon when everyone wanted to sit by the pool, sweetly rubbing sunscreen into that spot on your back that you can never reach. Grabbing a drink for you when he went up to the bar. 

Your lonely wedding weekend is suddenly filled with this broad-shouldered Navy man who gives you a shy smile every time you make eye contact.

There wasn’t time to put in ground rules before Reuben threw you you to the wolves to socialize with the rest of the wedding party. When Isabel saw you, standing a healthy foot away from Bob and her sculpted eyebrow raised, it was the first test of this “relationship”. Your heart slamming in your chest as you slipped a hand around that thick bicep and rested your hot cheek against his shoulder. His own face fighting anxiety as he allowed you to set the pace. Isabel’s smile brightening as she beckoned you closer, instantly fawning over the two of you and the way Bob’s hand fits a little too nicely around your waist.

Thankfully the copious amount of relatives and friends constantly interrupting Isabel and Reuben prevented your friend investigating too close into this development in your love life. Happy to believe over some intentionally placed hands and the casual way he throws sweetheart in when asking if you want a drink.

“Now that I have you alone, why didn’t you tell me you were together? First loves reunited?!” Isabel drags you away to the other bridesmaids, Bob giving you a small wave as he joins the men. 

You shrug, making a show of looking at the hibiscus to avoid her eyes. Desperate for a believable lie. “I didn’t want to…uh, distract from your big day?”

She wraps you in a warm hug you don’t deserve. “Not distracting in the slightest. He’s the best, you’re so lucky!”

You throw a glance his way, watching his good-natured grin as Reuben’s groomsmen, mostly aviators he’s worked with over the years, joke and jostle on the other side of the lawn. It’s side glances like these that carry through the night; when he pulls your chair out for dinner, asks the waiter to refill your water, and offers you half of his dessert. When your eyes do meet, you drown in the twin oceans that twinkle back at you.

By the time you’re heading back to Suite 4 to share that big bed, you’re pretty sure you’re not pretending to like him anymore.

You’re regretting not putting up the pillow barrier Bob so kindly offered to set up. It seemed childish at the time - you didn’t need a divider to stay on your side of the bed - but now you’re lying here in your little cotton pajamas you did not expect anyone to see and you can hear him breathing and the room is a little too warm. Every sense is on high alert and a pillow barrier would give you an inkling of privacy.

In the silhouette of the moonlight peaking through the curtains, you watch the planes of Bob’s face as he peacefully sleeps beside you. If he’s good looking in the daytime, he’s breathtaking at night. Pale eyelashes against his cheeks, lips slightly pouted, hair mussed from changing sides. You wish you could smooth your fingers over the planes of his face, appreciate the sharpness of his jaw, the roundness of his cheeks.

Tomorrow you have to pretend all over again to be in love with him. A feeling that’s already starting to creep inside you. A whole day of his gentle touches and laughs against your cheek. He was the perfect boyfriend that week in grade school, and even more perfect as an adult. Holding his hand made you want to never let go…which promptly made you want to jump out of your skin. 

This was a tiny white lie to get through Sunday morning. That was it.

You keep replaying the last moment before you retired back to your hotel room for the night. The drunken group sitting around the fire pit, a bottle of tequila making its way around the circle. Not enough chairs so you ended up in Bob’s lap, body cradled in the firm comfort of his chest. 

He made it so natural, the way his hand ran up and down your arm when you shivered in the night chill. You knew he could feel the shock up your spine when you noticed how intently he watched you during your story of how Isabel found a rat in your dorm room. He made you feel like the only person out there by the fire pit. The only person on this island.

When even the tequila couldn’t keep you warm any longer, the group disbanded in favor of cozy beds and hot showers. And even when no one else was in sight he still kept his arm around your shoulder to share his warmth, the pinching heels you’d shed in his hand as he asked whether you wanted to shower first.

Lips accidentally brushing your ear when he said he liked your dress; it matched the bougainvillea.

While you hadn’t spent much time together since your parents moved you away too long ago to remember, you were continually floored by how thoughtful he was still. He remembered how Isabel didn’t like ice, and that a few members of his squadron had allergies. Giving up his water because the woman next to him was without. Not to mention how he seemed to go the extra mile with you. All the years of boyfriends before this and not a single one had ever noticed you picked the pine nuts out of your salad; your new fake boyfriend requesting a fresh one sans nuts.

And it was borderline torture watching him get ready for bed post shower. Face and chest red from the scalding water and slick hair pushed back, towel slung a little too low as he dug through his suitcase. You were still speechless as he offered to put up a pillow barrier or something if it would make you more comfortable, making sure you knew he respected your boundaries.

His eyes were so blue without his glasses…

Caution to the wind, you run a finger over his cheek, brushing away a rogue eyelash and promptly turn away from him. Only one more day and you would be free of wanting a man that wasn’t yours.

The Fitch wedding day was perfect. Wide smiles, bridal lace, stunning hydrangeas, and not a dry eye in the house when Isabel and Reuben officially became husband and wife. It was the storybook start to a happy ever after. 

The sunlight blessed ceremony was followed by a lantern-lit reception, dancing and drinking overtaking the sprawling beach-front lawn of the hotel. You stayed out until the evening ended, the wedding party laughing and overfilling glasses of champagne until the last lantern was blown out. 

You barely remembered your rooming/relationship situation until a warm hand was on your forearm, asking if you were ready to go back to the room. It’s entirely unfair how good he looks in his suit. All day you’ve admired it, from the moment he emerged from the bathroom asking for help with his bow tie to an hour ago, when the wedding party did one last rendezvous on the dance floor. 

Bob has an ease on the dance floor, clearly practiced, the hand on the small of your back gently guiding. A hand big and warm and more distracting than trying to remember your own footwork. The dark-haired woman he seems close with whooping out, “Look at those moves, Floyd!” every time you get close, her own date cheering along. 

You shake the memory from your brain as Bob walks you back to the room. Keep the pining to a minimum until you can get to the airport and not have to see him ever again. You’re doing this for Isabel, your own emotions have no place. Even as you watch him open the door to the room and welcome you inside, looking so perfectly boyfriend-shaped.

Your skin feels too hot, your head clouded by bubbles and loud poppers exploding into the sky. Shedding this satin dress and getting into a warm shower sounds like heaven, washing away the buzzing ill-content flooding your body since you joined the wedding group that morning hand-in-hand with Bob. But a broken zipper interrupts those plans.

“Bob?” He stills on his way to the bathroom, bow tie loose around his neck. You indicate to the stuck zipper you’re fiddling with, warmth flaring at the top of your cheeks at your predicament.

The tips of his ears flush as he walks to you, chest a breath away from your back, admiring the way the satin flows over your curves and dips. Takes a moment to gather your hair over your shoulder before reaching for the zipper. The skin of his pinky accidentally brushes your neck, twin breaths catching at the shock. 

Firm fingers guide the zipper onto the track. As they guide the cool metal down your back, the boiling point that has been simmering below the surface since yesterday afternoon comes to a head. The lace of your bra is visible. Now the silken band of your underwear. The air of the room is still, eagerly awaiting what happens next.

While his voice is shaky, his words are firm. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Your head turns to the side, eyes catching his profile, too scared to look at him directly. 

“What are you pretending to do?”

His face falls into the crook of your neck, fingers tightening along the satin of your hips. “Pretending I’m doing our friends a favor. Pretending I’m not falling for you. Pretending every time I touch you it’s not the best part of my day.”

Your hand wraps around his, rough skin and satin beneath your fingers. Needing to tether yourself to reality to make sure this isn’t a champagne-fueled dream that he’s professing against your neck. 

“In that case, I don’t want to pretend anymore either.”

While you can’t see him, you can feel his realization against your skin. Brow furrowing, lips parting. The soft brush of his nose as he straightens up, uses his hands to turn you to him. Finally forced to look at each other amidst the information divulged.

You aren’t sure who leans in first, who braved the waters of uncharted territory. Time stills and speeds up as his face grows closer. The scent of sandalwood and bergamot that’s followed you all weekend replaced by the woodsy mint of his cologne you’ve treated yourself to when tucked into his side. Anyone outside can hear two hearts beating erratically, anxious and excited. 

His lips are warm and comforting, just like everything else about him. Pressing delicately against yours, taking his time and letting you set the pace. You’re torn between the shock of how divine he feels and the greedy need for more. Senses overwhelmed by him; you want to taste more, feel more, see more.

When he pulls away, a gentleman not wanting to overstep, you’re breathless.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss you.” His confession is paired with pink cheeks and large hands playing with your fingers. 

You can’t help but to tease him, the banter from your childhood coming back. “Did it live up to expectations?”

“Way, way better.” Your smile is swallowed in his kiss, chins knocking as you trade off enthusiasm. A groan leaving Bob as you grab his hands and walk back to the bathroom. That hot shower still sounds amazing, but you need more of him.

The travertine tiles glow in the soft light as you watch your childhood love remove his suit, taking time to fold the pieces on the counter, letting you indulge in unbuttoning his crisp shirt as you share another sweet kiss. His own hands twisted in the dress barely clinging to your skin. The sounds that escape him as your hands explore his chest are purely sinful, meant only for your ears.

He barely lets you bask in his body, honed from years of Naval training, before he’s stripping the satin from your frame. You beg for another kiss, but he denies you. He can’t be distracted from watching every inch of skin being revealed. From letting his fingers follow the fabric as it pools at your feet. From kissing his way back up your body until your head falls back against the wall, fingers beckoning him to the shower.

“You’re so beautiful.” It’s more breath than words, but ignite the goose flesh along your skin as he adjusts the hot water and shower head to your liking.

Minutes or hours passed as you reacquainted under the steam. Your fingers tangled in wet strands of sandy hair, fingers slipping along any skin you can reach. His own hands tightly hugging your body, holding you close as he appreciates your nude form. Swallowing each other’s moans as his fingers dip between your folds and you run your palm along his shaft.

The universe has ceased to exist by the time Bob kisses you against the shower wall, fingers wrapping under your thighs to hoist you to his level. Loving the way you giggle as your arms wrap around his neck, trusting him wholeheartedly. Eyes trained at where he lines up with you, relishing the way your breath catches in anticipation. He kisses your forehead as a promise to take care of you, a promise you know he’ll keep.

Once he’s seated deep in you, the moment about connecting rather than getting off, he tilts your head up to check in with you. A kiss as his eyes search you for discomfort. The flames of his eyes burning the brightest blue. One final clench around him and he knows he needs to move; if not for his sake, for yours.

It’s the most glorious dream as he fills you completely, hips rocking into yours as sweaty foreheads meet.

When he brings you to orgasm, a steamy moment punctuated by your muffled screams against his shoulder, there’s nothing fake about the affection as he peppers you with praise. Or when he fills you with his own release a moment later, exhaling thank you, thank you, thank you.

A pillow barrier isn’t even discussed as you lay in his arms that night, cheek against bare chest. His arm trails down your arm like it had the night before, a mindless action you now recognize as meaningful to him as to you. Sated and content, as it should be.

You sit up a little to run your nose along his neck, producing a low groan from him. “You need something, sweetheart?”

“I was wondering, after that,” you gesture to the shower, cheeks heating, “does this mean we’re, uh, dating again?”

He smiles at your flush, cupping your face with one of his large hands. Presses the sweetest kiss to your lips.

“You know, we never had a break up. Technically we’ve been dating this whole time.”

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[earthchica]

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bodyguard! terry richmond x black fem! (Singer) reader

summary: you are a rising singer in need of a bodyguard, and that is when Terry gets hired. Your first encounter didn’t go well; he was a stern jerk while you acted like a bit of a diva. Despite your disagreements, you both eventually found a way to work through your differences.

warning: angst, teasing, enemies to friends, brat behavior, insults, fluff, poetry, explicit smut (18+), dom/sub kinda, oral (f), protected rough sex, ass slaps, nicknames (baby, baby girl, beautiful)

note: so sorry for the wait! I changed the summary a bit to make it sound better. I had a lot of fun writing this. I just hope y'all enjoyed it as much as I did, haha.

-

Your singing career grew faster than you expected, taking you on an amazing journey to stardom.

However, your new rise to fame has come with pros and cons like stalking paparazzi and crazy fans.

Your manager recommended hiring a private bodyguard. You were initially hesitant, but eventually, you decided to accept the idea.

When you were introduced to Terry Richmond, you couldn't help but think he was the most handsome man you had ever seen.

However, despite his striking looks, he was a complete asshole with a cold demeanor.

For example, at a meet-and-greet photo op, Terry stood at the entrance as each fan walked through.

He patted them down and gave them a rude remark and an intimidating stare.

“Could you please relax your face a bit? And why are you patting them down like airport security? You need to chill; you're scaring all my fans,” You expressed.

"Brenda, where did you find this clown?" You asked your manager, and she tried to reason with you, but you didn't listen.

Terry glanced at you blankly and said, "I'm just doing my job; it's protocol, ma’am,"

“Fucking protocol, this fucking protocol that is it protocol to be an asshole…and what did I tell you about calling me, ma’am? You know, you’re older than me, right?” You asked, and he didn’t respond.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms while patiently waiting for the next fan.

Brenda nudged him on the shoulder and whispered something to him you couldn't hear.

"Look, lady, I'll do my best to appear less intimidating, but I will not tolerate your diva behavior. I'm here to protect you, and protecting your life is serious, which means adhering to protocol. Do you understand?" Terry asked in a softer but still dominant tone.

"I understand, but you need to understand that you are working for me; you can stay on your "protocol shit" but by my rules. Okay," You replied.

“Brenda… I’m sorry, but I can’t work with this,” Terry said, looking at her with frustration, which caused you to look shocked.

"Look at you…running…I thought you were a tough guy, just a clown," You yelled teasing him as he walked out of the room, and Brenda ran after him.

As you talked to your assistant, Chole, Terry, and Brenda walked back into the room. They must have had a talk.

"I apologize for my behavior, miss. I will cooperate with you, but only if you do the same." Terry clenches his jaw, and you smirk, noticing that it probably hurts his ego to say that.

"You know what…It's cool. And fine, I will cooperate," You said, clearing your throat, and oddly feeling slightly aroused.

As the days passed, you noticed subtle changes in Terry's behavior. He started engaging in small talk, asking about your day, and even cracking a joke here and there.

You tried to be less of a bitch and more nice and playful with him. He was still professional but more easy to talk to than before.

Walking together one evening, you paused in front of a quaint little bookstore.

The window display featured a collection of classic novels, their covers slightly worn, as if inviting readers to delve into their pages.

You glanced at Terry, who gave a slight nod of approval, and you both stepped inside.

There weren’t many people inside, thankfully. The smell of old books and polished wood enveloped you, creating a cozy atmosphere.

You wandered through the aisles, your fingers occasionally brushing against the books.

Terry followed at a respectful distance, his eyes still watchful but softer for you.

As you reached the back of the store, you found a comfy armchair tucked away in a corner.

With a contented sigh, you sank into it.

Terry stood nearby, glancing around at the shelves, and you noticed his gaze lingering on a book of poetry.

You pointed it out with a smile. "See something you like, Terry?" You asked curiously in a playful tone.

"Uh," He hesitated momentarily, then picked up the book, flipping through its pages with a surprising gentleness.

"Yeah…I used to read a bit of poetry," He admitted quietly. "It’s been a while."

You nodded, understanding. "Well, maybe today’s the day to start again," You suggested, feeling warm.

“Maybe!”

“Can I ask you what your favorite poem is?” You asked, genuinely curious.

Terry paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "There's one by Langston Hughes that I always liked," He said, voice softening.

“What is it?”

“Uh…The Dream Keeper.' It's about dreams, how precious they are, and how they must be protected and cherished."

You smiled, touched by his choice. "That's a beautiful one. Wow, I wouldn't have thought you would be a guy into poetry."

"Well… that's your problem. You don't know nothing by me," Terry said, a rare, full smile breaking through his usually composed exterior, which fluttered your heart.

"You right…maybe…I should get to know you more on a deeper level." You flirted playfully, looking into his pretty eyes intensely

"How about you? What's your favorite poem?" Terry asked, ultimately shifting the subject.

He was good at that; change the topic whenever you asked about getting to know him.

Terry comes over with the book in his hand and sits next to you. You think for a moment.

"I think I'd have to say 'Phenomenal Woman' by Maya Angelou," You replied as your eyes lit up.

"It's such an empowering piece, full of strength and grace," you continued.

Terry nodded thoughtfully, his fingers gently gliding over the pages of the poetry book.

"Angelou's words have a way of striking right at the heart," He agreed, genuinely interested in the discussion.

“You are a Phenomenal Woman,” He mumbled in a low tone, hoping you didn’t hear him, but you did.

You smirked. “You think so?

“Damn it! nothing gets past you, huh?” He chuckles softly; his little chuckle is music to your ears.

“Do you mean it?” You asked, looking at him, fluttering your eyelashes, waiting for him to respond.

His expression changed from gentle to serious, and Terry stood, stretching a little.

“Let me know when you’ve finished,” He said, glancing over his shoulder as he prepared to walk away, a hint of cold in his voice.

"Wait," You said, stopping him, and grabbing the poetry book from his hand before heading to the front cash register.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his brow furrowed in confusion as he trotted closely behind you.

“I’m getting this for you,” You replied, smiling, handing the book to the cashier.

"As a thank you for cooperating with my attitude. I know it's your job to protect me, and you want to do your job right, but who says we can’t be friends, right?" You added with a smile.

"You didn't have to do that," He said, looking surprised, but a hint of gratitude shone in his light eyes.

"Well, I wanted to," You said simply. Both of you waited for the car inside, and soon, Terry guided you out of the bookstore, shielding you from the paparazzi.

You shivered slightly when you felt his hand on your lower back. The two of you managed to get into the car.

The car ride was quiet, filled with the soft hum of the music and the occasional rustle of paper as Terry thumbed through his new book.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, noticing how his expression softened as he read.

Seeing this side of him was amazing, a reminder that maybe you could get him to open up a little bit.

"Thank you," Terry said suddenly, breaking the silence. "For the book."

You smiled, touched by his sincerity. "Of course, Terry."

He simply nodded in acknowledgment, then turned his attention back to the pages of his book.

As he immersed himself in the book, you couldn't help but admire his caramel-brown skin tone emanated a warm glow under the sun shining from the window, highlighting his essence.

You watched his mesmerizing blend of greyish-blue or perhaps hazel-green eyes, depending on the day, move back and forth through the words.

“You know, it’s not nice to stare,” Terry remarked playfully, glancing up from his book.

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he offered you a warm, infectious smile—the kind that lingered in your thoughts long after you had seen it.

You looked away, trying to suppress a smile; this man was going to be the death of you if you didn't do something about it.

As months passed, Terry finally began to share his life before becoming a bodyguard. The more you learn about him, the deeper your feelings for him become.

You now consider him a friend. In public, Terry maintained a professional bodyguard demeanor.

In private, he was like a big teddy bear you couldn’t help but want to embrace.

Although spending almost every day together, there was still a boundary he wouldn’t cross with you, and you wanted him to cross it so bad.

Your first global tour was a complete success. You traveled worldwide, singing and meeting your fans; it was a dream come true.

It was around eight at night, and you found yourself alone in your hotel room, wearing pajamas and waiting for room service.

Out of nowhere, a firm knock echoes through the quiet room. You pause, glancing toward the door, and call out to see who it is.

A familiar voice responds—it’s Terry. You invited him in, and he entered with the room service server.

His reassuring presence stood tall as he watched the server set everything on the table before dismissing them.

"Are you hungry?" You asked, your voice slightly hoarse from the last evening's performance.

Terry caught your gaze, his eyes sparkling with that familiar glimmer.

"No, I’m fine. I just wanted to make sure you got your food," He replied, his tone sweet and sincere.

"Come on, are you sure? There’s plenty to share, Terry," You said, motioning toward the spread of food.

"I guess, maybe just a little," He agreed, pulling up a chair beside you.

You both began to eat in a lovely, comfortable silence, but Terry broke it by asking you something.

"I never really asked you this but how are you managing and feeling all of this?" Terry asked, gesturing to this rising fame.

You shrugged, a small smile gracing your lips. "It's been exciting, anxious. I have my moments, you know that,"

"Oh, I know…you still do, bratty attitude and everything," he said teasingly, but stating facts, you playfully hit him on the arm.

"But I'm trying to meditate and stay grounded, surrounding myself with trustworthy people like you and Brenda."

He nodded, a warm grin spreading across his face. "I'm glad to hear that."

"You're doing an incredible job. It's not easy being in the spotlight all the time." He added, his simple yet heartfelt words warmed your heart.

"Thank you, Terry. That truly means a lot," You replied softly, and he gave you a nod with a smile.

After eating, you and Terry began watching a movie in bed, and you unexpectedly fell asleep.

Your head fell on his shoulder, and you began cuddling against him.

Terry removed you from his arm, got out of the bed, and reluctantly prepared to leave, but you stopped him.

"Where are you goin', T?" You whined sleepily, holding his arm tenderly.

"I should let you get some rest," He said, a touch of remorse in his voice.

“No….wait..,” You said, letting go of his arm and clumsily getting out of bed.

You almost stumbled, but he caught you. You and Terry shared an intense gaze before your eyes shifted to his lips.

You leaned in, lust swirling in the air between you. Just as your lips were about to meet.

Terry stopped you and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his expression serious.

“We can’t,” Terry said, the weight of his words hanging heavily around you.

“Terry, it’s okay. Let it happen,” you said, leaning in closer again, feeling him shift, especially when he didn't push you away.

You kiss his lips softly, and he melts into the kiss, loving the warmth and sweetness of your lips.

Just as you were to rest your hands on his shoulders, a sudden shift occurs, and he gently pulls away, your eyes lingering on his back.

“Fuck, you're making this real hard for me,” He says, moving towards the couch on the other side of the room.

“Terry, don’t you feel this attraction between us? Because I do…I really like you.”

“I-i do but…it’s….”

You moved toward him, knelt before him, and placed your hands on his knees.

“Wrong,” You quietly inquired, your voice barely above a whisper, while pressing your forehead gently against his.

The warmth of your skin is connected with his, creating intimate and intense feelings.

“Because it’s unprofessional, and you work for me. Well, who fucking cares? We're attractive to each other, and we want each other. Let's just say fuck it," You expressed, grabbing his hand and placing it on your exposed wide hip.

You heard his breath hitch as Terry shook his head, trying to resist as he uttered your name, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Come on…Daddy," You whispered softly, heart racing as you just risked calling him that.

Terry tilted his head and grunted his teeth before grabbing your face with his hands and pulling you into a passionate kiss before lifting you up to straddle him.

The world around you seemed to fade away as you lost yourself in the feel of his hands on your body and the feel of his sweet, soft lips.

A muffled moan leaves your mouth as Terry's tongue begins to dance along with yours.

He pulls away and starts kissing your jawline and your neck before opening your button-up PJ shirt roughly and your breasts popping out.

"You've been driving me crazy, you know?" He asked, squeezing them and sucking them, causing you to let out a moan.

You gazed at him with intense desire; his dirty talk and the hunger in his eyes deepened your arousal by the minute.

Terry had you stand up with him, and you both began removing each other's clothes.

His breath hitched, feeling you unbutton his pants and push them down to his feet.

"Mmmmm, I thought it was bigger, Daddy. This is disappointing, " You said playfully, aware that you were treading on dangerous ground.

You bite your lip while gently caressing his big, throbbing dick through his underwear.

He grabbed your neck roughly and said, "Oh, is it? You better watch, girl. I'll have you begging and crying for it; I'mma have to teach you a lesson. keep playing with me."

And indeed he did.

Terry smiled up between your legs. You were a hot, crying, and moaning mess who should've shut your damn mouth.

This was your third orgasm; he was working out of you, and you were so damn sensitive.

"Look at you, a fucking mess. Shouldn't have been talking all that shit." He says, plunging his tongue between your wet folds again, seeking out your most sensitive spots.

"Daddy, ahhh, I'm sorry, oh fuck right here," You cried, feeling him spread your legs further apart, slowly sliding in one, then two fingers, pumping in and out fast.

Pressure began building deep inside. "Right there, baby girl?" He asked.

"Yes, ahhh yes!" You moaned, feeling your walls start fluttering around his fingers. 

A third finger slips in, and in one thrust, your body tenses; in two thrusts, your eyes roll in the back of your head.

"Mmm fuck….I'm close, daddy," You moaned softly, gripping the bed sheets tightly while bucking your hip a little bit.

"Cum for me, baby girl." He says, lapping his tongue through your folds, and the orgasm hits you like a bus.

"That's it, such a good girl. Look at you," Terry says, placing your legs down and kissing your inner thigh.

You look at him hungrily while coming down from your high. You watched him get a condom and stroke his dick.

"How do you want me, Daddy?" "You asked, propping yourself up on your elbows.

Terry looked at you, still stroking himself; the way he was doing it was turning you on even more.

"I want you to ride me, but reverse," He said, going to lie on his back, and you climbed on top, reversing yourself to face away from him.

He held your waist with one hand while his legs were slightly spread apart.

You grip his dick gently and slowly slide down, causing you to let out a hiss, just the tip only was just too much for you.

"What's the matter, baby girl? Too big for you?" He asked, playfully teasing you.

"No, I can handle it; I've had much bigger than this," You said, with fake confidence, which earned you an ass slap.

"Watch it, baby girl," Terry said with a growl, and you moaned, continuing to slowly slide down his big dick until he was entirely in you and stretching you out.

"Okay, good girl, you got through that; go ahead fuck yourself on it, do all the work if you can," He said, propped up with his arms behind his head, and a mischief smirk played on his lips.

Why couldn't you just keep your mouth shut? You told yourself you could've had what you wanted, but Terry was punishing you for your teasing.

You bite your lip and place your hands between his legs, bouncing up and down slowly.

"Mmmm, fuck, there you go, beautiful girl," Terry groaned, giving your ass another slap; even when he's trying to teach you a lesson, he's praising you.

You adapted to his size quicker than expected, bouncing faster, but this didn't reach your wants.

You tried to keep going, but you needed him; you needed his dick, and you needed him to fuck you and take control.

"Daddy?" You cried, shifted to look back at him, and he smiled with his brow raised.

"Yes, baby girl? Is something wrong?" He asked with a bit of amusement in his tone.

"Fuck me, please. I'm sorry. I need you, I need your dick, please," You begged desperately.

"tsk, tsk, tsk. I don't know…have you learned your lesson?" Terry asked, waiting for an answer.

"Yes, I swear, yes." You nodded desperately, and tears began streaming down your face.

"Nah…I don't think you have, but Imma turn this pussy out and show you when not to play with me," Terry said dominantly, grabbing your waist and thrusting up harshly, causing you to let out a moan.

"Ahh, fuck" You moaned, placing your hands on his chest, watching his length move in and out of you.

This was what you wanted to feel him move in and out out of your pussy, skin on skin, slapping, filling the room.

Your breasts bounced every which way while you cried and moaned in great pleasure for more.

"You like that, don't you? You like me being in control and fucking the brat of you huh?" Terry asked as his hands moved to your hips, grip tighter than before.

"Yes, Daddy, ahh, just like that, ahh fuck me." You moaned, grew in volume, on the verge of being screams of ecstasy.

The pleasure that he was giving you felt so good that the knot in your stomach was exponentially reforming with every thrust.

Terry could tell from how your pussy clenched around his dick. You whimper when he pulls out, but you get excited when he says.

"Turn around. I want to see that pretty little face of yours, baby."

You turn your body, slightly shaking, and quickly, Terry grabs you to flip you on your back.

You bit your lip, watching him slide in, and start thrusting slowly but quickly, picking up the pace.

"Fuck, yes, Terry," You moaned, wrapping yourself around him, clinging to his skin and leaving scratches down his back.

He grabbed your hand and pushed it above your head, pressing his entire body weight against you.

"Fuck, you feel so good, and you look so damn beautiful; look at you, ahh fuck" Terry moans, kissing you first before pulling away to grip your waist tighter and watch your breasts bounce up and down.

You gripped his arms, letting out louder moans as he went faster, harder, and deeper than before.

"Tell me this is the best dick you've have ever had," He growled

"Ahh…this-this is the best dick I've ever had, Daddy," You cried out, making him smirk.

"You love this dick, don't you?" Terry asked, pulling out and slamming back into you hard, hitting your sweet spot.

"Yes. daddy. I love it; I love it so much. Fuck, It feels so so good I'm gonna-! " You screamed, arching your back.

"Fuck, that's it. You're so fucking good, baby. Such a good girl, cum for me," He moans, kissing your lips, and without a doubt, you orgasmed fourth time tonight.

This one was gushing out of you, causing Terry to pull out and hit his dick against your sensitive pussy before continuing to thrust back in until he had reached his own mind-blowing orgasm.

Terry pulled you into a kiss and moaned your name. You loved hearing every sound he made; he thrusted once more and spilled into the condom, falling against you.

Both of you remained there, trying to catch your breath. You stroked his back as he kissed your neck and collarbone.

Terry rolls off of you, throws the condom away, and pulls you close to cuddle.

You caressed his cheek and gazed into his eyes; words were unnecessary. There was much to figure out, but that could wait because this moment was worth it.

[lady-lostmind]

Bittersweet

Love is: Missing each other.

a @steddielovemonth prompt Thank you @oh-stars for betaing this!

WC: 891 | Rating: T

ao3 link

Steve hurries in the door, throwing his bag down and rushing to the phone, snatching it off the hook. “Eds?”

Eddie’s voice rings through the line. “Hey, Sweetheart.”

Steve sighs, slumping against the wall, heart still pounding in his chest. “Thought I was going to miss you. I got out later than I thought.” 

Eddie sighs. “You kind of did, baby. I’m sorry. I’ve been calling for like twenty minutes. We have to leave soon. I just…really wanted to hear your voice so I’ve been stalling.”

Steve feels a lump form in his throat and he tries to push back the tears welling in his eyes. “Fuck. Okay, I’m sorry. I uh– fuck.  I miss you.” 

Eddie pulls away from the phone and Steve can hear a muffled argument happening on the other end of the line, probably with one of the guys from the band. Eddie comes back, full volume, and clearly frustrated. “I miss you too, Stevie. I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll try to call tomorrow, okay?” 

“Okay, I lov–” Steve sighs as the dial tone rings out in his ear, and slumps against the wall. 

He hates this. Hates that he only gets to talk to Eddie for a few minutes every couple of days. Hates that every conversation is rushed. Hates that he feels anxious if he’s out of the house for too long, not knowing when Eddie might get the chance to call. 

He hates that he kind of hates the band. That he hates this tour. Because he’s thrilled for Eddie. He is. He’s so glad that he’s getting to live his dream. That the band got signed. That the tour is almost sold out. He is. Eddie deserves for all his dreams to come through. It’s just– things are moving so fast. And they were just really settling into a life together and now…

Steve just misses him. He misses him so fucking much. Misses coming home to his crazy loud music. Misses falling asleep in his arms. Misses the way he would hop up from whatever he was doing to give Steve a kiss goodbye. He misses him all the time. 

So, yes. He’s so happy for Eddie. And wants nothing more than for this to go well. He hopes he’s having the time of his life. It just also…really sucks.

–

Eddie shoves Gareth who just hung up on Steve, and tries to grab the phone back from him. “What the fuck, man. He’s going to think I hung up on him!”

Gareth rolls his eyes, holding the phone out of Eddie’s reach. “We’ve been waiting on you for like half an hour, man!”

Terry sticks his head out of the bus. “LET’S GET A FUCKING MOVE ON!”

Eddie sighs, dropping his hold on Gareth and rolling his eyes at him when he just stares at him, waiting to make sure he’s actually heading back. Eddie turns around and jogs over to the bus, hoping they make a pit stop early tomorrow before Steve heads to work. 

No one ever tells you that having all your dreams com true is going to like, kind of fuck up anything good you already had going on in your life. And Eddie had it fucking made, okay? He landed Steve Harrington. Steve motherfucking Harrington. And this tour is fucking it up. 

Sure, it’s fucking amazing. It’s everything he ever dreamed it would be. Playing to thousands of people a night, hearing them scream the lyrics to his songs back at him. Getting to do the whole rockstar thing. Which, okay. That’s maybe being a little generous still. They’re not playing sold out stadiums or anything. They’re not fucking Metallica. But like, they have fans. They’re selling out venues. Sure, small ones. But a sold out show is a fucking sold out show. And they’re making like, actual real money. Eddie can say that he is a professional musician. Because he is currently supporting himself with his music. And that shit is cool, okay. He is goddamn ecstatic about that shit. 

But he misses Steve. A lot. And he hates that he can hear the hurt in his voice every time they talk. He would never tell Eddie. But he can tell. That this is fucking killing him. And he’s not doing so hot himself. Turns out you get used to it when a pretty boy is constantly smiling at you and giving you kisses when you walk by. He’s in fucking withdrawl, okay? Plus like…he was getting laid. Like, regularly. That’s not something he ever thought he’d have. He misses snuggling up to Steve at night, their hands wandering, and getting to hear Steve’s voice turn all breathy. 

And it’s not just the sex. He misses the sex, okay? He’s only human. But he misses Steve. He misses their shitty little apartment. He misses going to pick him up from work and take him to dinner. He misses the way Steve hums in the shower. He misses when he gets all sleepy when they watch a movie on the couch, clearly dozing against Eddie’s chest but insisting that he’s still watching. He misses the way he lights up when Eddie walks in the door, going all puppy eyes and smiles. 

So, yeah. He gets to be a rockstar. But he misses his fucking boyfriend. 

[blueberryismilk18]

can you please do hcs about Brad? (bistro huddy)

Hi!!! Thanks for being my first ever ask, don’t be afraid to ask for more, I wasn’t sure what kinda you wanted so I kinda assumed! I love this sassy man, tho I’m more of a Joey fan myself sorry it’s not that good again first time, I really hope you enjoy :3

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺𝓑𝓻𝓪𝓭༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Platonic:

Coworker:

🍨 Brad has to get feels someone's vibe before fully introducing himself, to which he thought you were chill and he liked that

🍨 From now on you guys are besties even outside of work you guys hang out

🍨 You guys playfully bicker all the time almost like him and Nichole but you were nicer to him about it (cough cough not changing his name on the system to dickface) 

🍨 please let this man rant about how annoying Terry, Tim, or Nichole is during yalls breaks

🍨 You’re guys friendship is one of the only good things in that horrible place

Customer: 

🍽️ Again like the first thing I said he needs to get to know your vibe, if he likes your energy then he'll tell you his name.

🍽️ In order for you guys to be friends you need to be a regular (Your poor wallet)

🍽️ Amber always makes sure to seat you in his section, one time thought in the very beginning or y'all's friendship Amber had seated you in Nichole’s section, he questions you so much on how you could even be friends with him (in more of teasing and playful way, but still comes off as rude) just to get under his skin

🍽️ Appreciates seeing you, again makes this job a little more bearable

Romantic🌹:

Coworker: 

🍰 Just like the platonic part that could be how you guys first started off. Until he noticed how much happy he felt when you'd be working the same shift and or hours as him.

🍰 Highlight of this sassy man's day

🍰 Nichole of course noticed it first, she would not stop giving him shit for a week. 

🍰 Eventually the kitchen caught wind of this and they would tease both of you when you guys were near each other, confusing you in the process

🍰 Bridgette and Aaron find out from pickles and that's where it all went down hill.. of course Aaron is the one who slips it by accident to you… Infront of Brad

🍰 Brad was pissed but didn't know what to say, he wasn't a baby of course but bro was actually too stunned to speak, Nichole started to laugh ngl

🍰 Let's just say Terry gave you guys a lecture about leaving “personal feelings at home”

🍰 You guys talked about it after work it went great. You guys started dating and you both got shit from Nichole (I love her guys) 

🍰 Now more into the headcanons part, let thisan rant about his day please, he cannot take it anymore he might lose it

🍰 Tim teases the shit out of both of you, while Pam is super sweet and always complementing you guys

🍰 Don't listen to Terry he's just a sad sad hater

🍰 The kitchen guys always tell Brad what a lucky guy he is to be dating someone as beautiful/handsome as you

Customer: 

🍷 Again you gotta be a regular

🍷 Give this man a big tip, your have his heart!/j 

🍷 But fr tho, be nice to the guy he's gotta deal with this red necks and rudeass customers

🍷 Over time he'll just love the company you give him, tells (begs) Amber to seat you always in his section

🍷 He can't help it! He really likes you but doesn't want to admit it first

🍷 You gotta ask that man out, he literally cannot refuse (go somewhere that isn't bistro huddy, he does not want to hear anything from them)

🍷 He's pretty much a very sweet boyfriend

🍷 Tries to spend a lot of time with you and uses some of his sick days to just take you out and stuff

🍷 I hope you enjoy eating most of your meals with stolen Bistro Huddy stuff! What a gentleman! 

🍷 most of his money comes from your tips!/j (just don’t be like Madge and Cybiel, maybe in private…)

[outmakingmoonshine]

Why does it kinda lowkey feel like Claire is to Sydney what Francie Fak is to Nat?

I'm sorry but this season told me Sydney could not care less about Claire or her having a place in Carmy's life whatsoever and I can only imagine if she did voice her opinions out loud it would sound a lot like how Nat speaks about Francie Fak.

Gif credit

The face Syd made and her response when Carmy mentioned Claire in 3x01 spoke volumes and It's absolutely reasonable that Syd thinks Carmy's so messed up this season bc he misses Claire but she doesn't ask him about it once.

She asked about Chef Terry twice, was very sympathetic in 3x05 and even tried to comfort him and make put a positive light on it when she saw he was down about Ever's funeral in 3x09. But she didn't say anything about Claire all season. She asked if he was ok a few times in regards to his mental state in S3 but she wouldn't go near the subject of Claire with a 10-foot pole!

This story is obviously going to end with Syd & Carmy finding some kind of deep lasting connection with each other, what would be the point of all the miscommunication and struggle to connect between them that's been a central part of their story for 3 seasons if it's not? And as it stands in the story right now, that wont be happening as long as Claire is around. If they wanted a Carmy&Claire with Syd as the platonic partner ending, Claire and Syd needed to be besties and that needed to happen when she was introduced in S2. But obviously Claire and her presence in Carmy's life is a big issue for Syd and I don't think that's gonna miraculously change anytime soon. Even if it did happen next season it's wont feel genuine or earned like every other real friendship in this show anyway.

Sidenote: While writing this I just read this amazing post by @thoughtfulchaos773 with some great observations and discussion by @currymanganese & @vacationship, please go check it out. Thank you to all of them!

Even Cicero seemed surprised by Syd's sage wisdom in 3x05. Whether she's never been in a relationship or not she could definitely give Carmy some kinda advice on Claire, even just to ask if he's ok after what happened or wants to talk about it. Especially bc the way he's acting this season seems like it's because of her and it's making their relationship and Syd's work-life harder...but she doesn't bring it up. Not one single time. It's interesting that she checked in with him and asked if he was ok about almost everything else that was clearly wrong all season, except Claire. But apparantly they have a "platonic intimate friendship" right? So why wont she talk to him about the thing that's clearly bothering him??!

Syd doesn't care about that relationship or want it to work out. And now I've read that post above, despite her obvious personal feelings for Carmy I think Syd clocked Claire's mean girl vibe in 2x05, the same way Claire clocked the vibe between Carmy & Syd. She knows Claire isn't good for Carmy otherwise even despite her feelings, I think she'd at least ask if he was ok after everything that happened and everyone hounding him about it. But all season she basically acted like Claire never even existed.

Syd should've put a stop to Carmy's nonsense in 3x02 when she was all the way done with him over the non-negotiables, she knew he was going way overboard then but she didn't stop him because that's how he was coping and it meant he'd be in the kitchen spending time with her which is how she's been trying to help him since the beginning. "Being there" like she told Cicero. It was slowly starting to work in 2x02 as well, Carmy was in a much better place mentally. If only Claire hadn't come along.

[bandgie]

omg I loved ur stray kids what sub . I was wondering if you could do one for txt. im kinda curious to see what type of sub oc , beomgyu would like ??

beomgyu is an enigma tbh

but I think a sexual submissive and a playful masochist would suit his tastes. someone who he can fun with in bed, who likes to try new things even if they involve a little bit of pain. a sexual submissive finds pleasure in trying new things and beomgyu is always finding weird shit for between the sheets. a sexual submissive might be a little too submissive for him though, so the balance of a playful masochist who isn't scared to bite (literally and figuratively) is super hot to him

soobin

likes someone who can take the reins, so him wanting a submissive is something I can't really picture. however, a devoted sub really speaks to me only because of the emotion that comes with making love, and he likes to really get into the more empathic part of touching someone. it's a balance more so; you're good to him so he's good to you and vice versa. or a power bottom, he can have a lot of fun with that one but he would need unbelievable aftercare

yeonjun is also an enigma UGH

a switch honestly. he needs someone who's versatile because he's so versatile. one night he wants to bound your hands and keeps your thighs parted while finger fucking you until you squirt or he'll want to be blindfolded while you pour hot wax on him like this man needs it all tbh. but if we're strictly speaking sub, then a brat. likes it when you tease him throughout the day and put up a little fake fight before you submit to the pleasure

terry

my boy terry needs someone who likes to listen really good, so an obedient sub is up his alley. tbh he deserves the world so obviously he deserves the best sub too!! he praises you for being so good, makes you feel super comfortable and gets off on that fact. watching your pretty little face look up at him all doting and happy to do anything is just so ugghhh to him. lowkey maybe a devoted too but a submissive is so much more sluttier.

kai

kai needs me fr, jk (not really) but kai would prefer to be the sub if im being honest. like he's just so used to being the one doing the work and having people talk to him a certain way so to be introduced to a sub is so? weird for him? if you're a service sub tho...he's liking it for sure. like I said, since he does everything he would love the opportunity to have someone else doing it for him. you mean he can ask you to suck his nipples and you do? for as long as he wants? he can have you ride him? milk him dry? suck him off? sign him up OR a free-use sub I just knoooowww kai would go absolute ape shit for that. his shaky hands gripping your hips while you're doing your set of chores, still unsure even after all this time that you're okay with him using you. his careful eyes locking with yours when he turns you around, gently pulling your shorts down and- sorry bye

be honest, can you tell kai is my ult bias...

[fictioninmyblood]

King Consort pt. 2

Summary: ‘Queen of the Damned’ esq, Terry’s disciplined restraint awakens a queen of the damned. Maha, daughter of Akasha, is awoken on a half moon night when the sun kisses the moon in the light of day. After surviving the bloodshed and corruption of Shelby Springs without shedding the blood he wanted, Terry finds himself under the gaze of a goddess whose thirst for balance in all things can suddenly only be quenched by his company. How did he get here? Does he ever really wanna leave?

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, the snowball is starting to go downhill and outta my control, smut, this man is haunting my dreams.

A/N: Sorry yawl, this was supposed to be a short thing but the story is taking me on a journey now. Part 3 otw.

A/N: Happy belated Diwali and Dia de Los Muertos to those who celebrate.

“Yes, me,” Maha replied.

“So I wasn’t dreaming?” Terry asked, confused as to how his fantasy was becoming a reality.

“Yes and no.”

“How is this possible?”

“I have been alive long enough to master a few privileges of immortality.”

“So, you are a vampire.”

“I am. Though not your average,” Maha said as she pushed away from the door and walked up to stand toe to toe with Terry. “You may ask me all the questions you wish later, I have been starved for entirely too long. Don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t know, that’s a question I haven’t been able to ask.”

Terry folded his arms and raised one of those beautifully thick eyebrows at Maha’s boldness. If his dreams were as reliable as he thought and it was the beast in him she had been starved for, then that’s exactly what she’d get. He let her lift a hand to palm his face and trace his lips with her thumb.

Maha’s eyes hadn’t left the twin pillows that called to her from his face as she asked, “May I?”

Terry watched this ancient creature, a goddess in her own right, fight to restrain herself and it pleased him to know that not only had the powers that be sent him someone who could handle his beast; but apparently, he was a lot more powerful than he thought if he had called an otherworldly creature into his life.

His answer was a smirk as he lowered his hands to her hips and pulled her impossibly close all of a sudden. Terry watched Maha’s breath catch in her throat and the rise and fall of her chest quicken the longer he watched her. By the time he let their lips meet, her eyes had fluttered closed in surrender from the anticipation feeling his breath caress her own lips had built. Maha rested her hands against Terry’s chest as he palmed her lower back and backside, the two lost in the dance of their first kiss. What had started as a leisurely exploration morphed into a zealous endeavor that could not be fulfilled no matter how much they tried to meld together. When Terry had felt he had tasted her enough to sustain him through what he needed next, he pulled back, palming her face and watching those beautiful lips turn into a pout when he hadn’t come back in for another kiss. 

By the time Maha had opened her eyes again, Terry’s beast shone boldly from behind his eyes. Her king had arrived and she was ready and willing to submit however he deemed fit. She might make him work for it a little, but she knew the moment his eyes had lit up her sleeping mind that he was the man who could make her submit with just a look. He was man enough to earn the title of king, her king. Daughter of the night, mother of the day, Ma’at reincarnated she had been called from birth. A description she hadn’t realized was so accurate until she had been turned and came out on the other side able to sustain herself without taking human blood, unlike her parents. She was the first vampire to gain the power to choose how much she wanted to indulge the beast within as if she were still human.

Staring into the eyes of this man, on the cusp of releasing his own beast, she had never been so grateful for the isolation her rebirth had expounded. No being on the planet had matched the balance she struck from the moment she was born nor reborn, but now, hope bloomed in her chest that creation had been taking its time to curate her perfect match. She’d gladly walk alone through the ages again if it meant she eventually got to end up in the arms of her beast, her man, her king, Terry Richmond. It was no surprise to her that their coupling would come on this night of light, Diwali, that would meet the day of the dead, numerically and cosmically a sign of a new age being born. Just as he was created especially for her, so it seemed was the time in which they would come together.

Terry had been gently caressing her face with the thumb of the hand that palmed her face and the hand that palmed her beautiful butt while watching whatever thoughts that flit through her synapses from the screen of her enrapturing face. He had no clue all that went through her mind while she looked at him, but she had gone through so many emotions in such quick succession that it made him want to spend eternity learning how she displayed every emotion so that when she did it in the future he could identify each one. Terry could pinpoint the wonder, the gratitude, and the lust, but there was something else there that poked at his beast like a hot sticker.

Terry kissed the center of her forehead, where she was starting to scrunch up her face from thinking so hard. “Why don’t we take this inside?”

Maha was pulled from the memories of her lonely long life and back to the gift that was wrapped in the present. “Yes, let's. You must be exhausted,” Maha said as she turned to walk into the house holding onto one of Terry’s hands and gently pulling him behind her, stopping just inside the front door to bend down and remove each of his sneakers as he let his backpack rest beside her. “I’ve prepared a hot bath for you to relax in.” Though she hadn’t beforehand, with that declaration and a blink of her eyes it was done, full of rose petals, lavender oil, and some bath salts to help ease any tension he may be holding.

Terry smiled down at this beautiful goddess, he couldn’t bring himself to call her a mere woman at this point, grateful that she didn’t just want to take from him. He wanted to test her just to make sure and said, “Are you sure you don’t want to get right to sating our hunger?”

Maha continued her leisurely stroll through the house with Terry in tow, up the stairs and down the hall into the bathroom as she responded, “The only way we’ll both end up satisfied is if we start right. I’ve had plenty of time to prepare for you, but you have been traveling nonstop since long before our paths intertwined.” 

“I have.”

She stopped in the center of her extravagant bedroom in front of her king-sized four-poster bed that was draped in a sheer deep purple canopy, candles lining the edges of the room and illuminating their shadows. “You deserve to be fully recharged before we start and it can only help increase your stamina so that we can last as long as possible, yes my king?”

When she turned to strip him of his clothes, handling him with such gentleness he’d have thought he was imagining her touch had they not been looking at one another all he could do was breathe. Every moment just wound his desire to overindulge higher into overdrive, but she was right. It had been a long journey for him and not once had he relaxed. Despite mentally being ready to show her exactly how starved he was, his physical body did need something to soothe the aches and pains if he had any hope of accomplishing what he wished to tonight.

“Yes goddess,” he responded as she slowly removed his pants, bending to help him step out of each leg. The way she looked up at him from the floor, so close to his crotch, with his foot in hand just about made Terry say fuck it and throw her on the bed. Something about the way she seemed to gaze into his soul at that moment made him hold onto his restraint a little tighter though. She was silently begging him to let her serve him this way before he serviced her body and he couldn’t take that away, not when it only added fuel to the fire that would keep them warm throughout the rest of the night. 

As Maha moved to remove his boxers in the same way she had his pants she noticed that the only indications of his internal struggle was the fire that steadily grew behind his eyes and the slight clench and release of his fists. She understood his dilemma the second his manhood finally popped out of the fabric she had been moving down his legs. It made her mouth dry and her pussy drenched instantly. It had been one thing to get a quick meal in the middle of the forest as he slept, but now that he was fully naked in all his glory she had nothing to compare to the feelings he evoked. He made her want to worship him, a concept she was unfamiliar with having never felt a desire to worship anything in her human life or afterlife.

She had to silently remind herself to stay on task to get herself to stand back to her feet and move them into the bathroom. When Terry had sunk all the way into her freestanding tub, she grabbed her hot black chamomille oil and her stool to sit behind him and massage anything she could get to. He hadn’t been expecting it, but completely welcomed her hands that had started kneading out the knots in his neck, shoulders, and upper back. As she worked out a particularly tough knot he gifted her ears with the most beautiful moan in return, causing her pussy to clench desperately at nothing in anticipation. She looked forward to all the ways she would be able to get him to repeat that sound again and as she continued, promised herself to find out just how many noises he could make in the throws of pleasure.

Terry touched one of her hands just as she was getting swept up in the endless possibilities and the feel of his skin and muscles beneath her hands. “Come get in lil mama. I need to feel you.”

“But my king,” she started but stopped when she heard a growl work its way up from his chest and vibrate right at the tip of her clit.

By the time her heartbeat was in her kitty cat, he had grasped her hand and gently pulled her to stand where he could look at her.

“You have been teasing my senses with this fabric,” Terry said as he played with the hem of her golden gown, “but now I want you completely unwrapped for me. Can you do that, my goddess? Can you let me see all of you with nothing in my way?”

Maha gulped and nodded, suddenly unable to form words from all the focus she was putting into not becoming a puddle on the floor though she was pretty sure she’d already formed one. His steady eye contact made her want to look away but she daredn’t for fear of fracturing whatever was starting to boil over.

“Go on ahead and slowly slide that off for me,” he rasped out, the growl from earlier still stuck in his throat.

“Yes, my king,” she said as she used her free hand to push the gown off her shoulder. Terry let go of her hand so she could repeat the action and let the fabric slide over her curves and to the floor.

He grasped her ass and pulled her closer to the edge, leaning out the tub so that he could stick his nose in the bush of hair at the apex of her thighs, hiding his prize. “Mm mm mm mamas. You smell,” Terry said before he took another deep inhale and continued, “decadent.” Using his other hand to open her legs and lift her leg onto the tub so he could use his pointer and thumb to open up her lower lips and ease his tongue through her folds from the front, he groaned at the tangy sweetness that graced his tastebuds. “And you taste absolutely divine.”

If he hadn’t been holding her gaze hostage and supporting her weight with the hand that was on her ass, Maha’s eyes would’ve fluttered closed and her legs would’ve given out at that moment. 

“Keep those eyes on me. I wanna see every last reaction, you hear?”

“Yes, my king.”

Terry smirked, he ain’t even touched her for real yet and she was already in deep. Now all he had to do was prove that her trust in his abilities to deliver wasn’t in vain and he be damned if he failed tonight.

He leaned up from his sitting position so that he could bring her leg from the ledge onto his shoulder and dove in earnestly, holding her in place with one hand on an asscheek and the other pressed into the small of her back. Maha held onto his shoulders for dear life and fought to keep her eyes on him like she was told, but from that first lick she knew she finally met her match. It seemed that it was her that would have to work for it. 

Terry took his time eating her out, savoring every last drop her gorgeous ass pussy released just for him. He had spotted how drenched her thighs were when he lifted her leg and it took everything in him not to try and lick it all up. While keeping her lips parted, he switched between lazily lapping at her entire pussy from hole to clit like a cat, rolling his tongue in a wave motion on her clit, spelling his name all over her pussy, and scooping out any nectar with the tip of tongue to swallow down. Each time he felt her body tighten up for release he switched what he was doing, torturously building her orgasm.

By the time she had palmed his head and started rolling her hips against his face, Maha had given up on her task. Her head had fallen back and her eyes were screwed tightly shut trying to lessen the intensity of the sensations she was feeling to no avail. This man couldn’t be all human with how he feasted on her, could he?

Terry had momentarily gotten lost in savoring her sweet pussy so he hadn’t noticed she stopped looking at him, but when he did he corrected it immediately. 

“Eyes on me goddess,” he growled into her pussy.

When he didn’t get a response, Terry lifted the hand that was on her ass and let it fall heavily back down to pop her good as he repeated himself. The second Maha’s eyes reconnected with his and the sensation of the smack registered she was cumming on his face hard with a sound that was halfway between a moan and a groan and completely unrecognizable to herself. Terry just kept licking her up, slurping any juices that escaped and letting her ride out the high against his face. By the time she was coming back to Earth, he was leaving wet open-mouthed kisses against her clit.

“Please,” she whined out, unsure what she was begging for.

Terry smirked that familiar lift of his lips and stopped to ogle his handiwork. She truly looked like the name he’d given her, a goddess glowing with the sexual power she held. He gently removed her leg from his shoulder, grasped her hands in his as he sat back in the tub pulling her along, and said, “come get in mamas.”

[protoaxol]

Still Wakes the Deep: Infected By Shrooms

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warnings:

Graphic Depictions of Violence

Major Character Death

Category:

Gen

Fandom:

Still Wakes the Deep (Video Game)

Relationships:

Ewan Muir & Terry Innes

Brodie & Raffs

Boyd & Mclurg

Characters:

Brodie (Still Wakes the Deep)

Raffs (Still Wakes the Deep)

Gibbo (Still Wakes the Deep)

I. "Trots" Campbell

Boyd (Still Wakes the Deep)

Mclurg (Still Wakes the Deep)

Muir (Still Wakes the Deep)

Innes (Still Wakes the Deep)

Alex (Still Wakes the Deep)

Roper (Still Wakes the Deep)

Cameron "Caz" McLeary

Finlay (Still Wakes the Deep)

Davey Rennick

Addair (Still Wakes the Deep)

Additional Tags:

Hurt No Comfort

Body Horror

Vomiting

Infection

Hallucinations

American Writing Scottish Accents

Loss of Control

Drugs

Language: English | Words: 2,563

Summary:

The thoughts of all the infected little men throughout the story from start to end blah blah blah

Notes:

I cried writing this. Probably shouldn't read this if you have a soft stomach. Also, sorry Raffs. For this starting out as a parody, I think i got carried away with this one. But I swear the next one will be better. This is also my very first fanfic, so let me know if I suck

This is a parody of @silebee-draws's "Joining the Choir". Please go check that out if you haven't already, it's genuinely amazing.

Chapter 1: Raffs

Raffs had felt it when everything went to shit. Everything seemed to be going almost perfectly. Each step was planned carefully and executed with precision.  He was feeling a lot better than he had earlier. The nervousness that plagued Raffs’ body earlier had almost completely faded away. He felt confident, brave, and he was proud of himself. 

But then the entire world lurched around him. Raffs was thrown from the bell, and his tools were knocked right out of his hands. His vision was suddenly covered in colorful, oily bubbles. His head felt light, and it hurt like hell. His ears were ringing, but he could hear a faint rumbling coming from above.

Raffs immediately stopped what he was doing and swam towards the dive bell as fast as humanly possible. As he got closer to the dive bell, his body felt weaker with each passing second. He could hear Brodie’s voice. He was telling him to stay calm, not to panic. Raffs’ head was pounding. His view was slowly being obscured by more colors and images of his mother and Brodie.

Thinking about them made him feel better, made him feel like he could just let go. He saw Brodie, sitting next to him on the couch in the crew lounge. They sat laughing, telling jokes and drinking hot chocolate.

Focus, Raffs. 

He kept pushing on. The dive bell was only a few feet away from him, but to him it felt like it was miles away. He was almost there.. Almost…. There… 

His eyelids were feeling increasingly heavier. He couldn’t give up now. God, his head was splitting. It hurt so much.

“Raffs, you got this mate. I’m here for you, alright?”

Everything moved again, and Raffs was slammed into the bell, hurting his arm. He yelped in pain, and snapped back to reality. Now, with the remaining adrenaline he had, he pulled the hatch open with incredible force, and almost ripped it right off the dive bell. 

He pulled himself inside and slammed the hatch behind him, sealing it shut. He pulled off the mask and threw it on the floor. Finally, he was safe. He still felt weak, but his vision was clearing up. He sat down on the seat and put his hand on his head. It hurt so bad. He just wanted it to stop. As Raffs collected himself, he noticed something in the corner of his eye.

Something colorful. Something.. Beautiful.

From the edges of the hatch, there was a colorful, shiny substance growing. It creeped along the walls, climbed the ceiling, and covered everything it touched. Raffs backed up against the wall as far as he could from.. That.. That thing…

As it creeped closer to the diver, it shined brightly, putting him in a trance. It was so pretty, he couldn’t stop looking at it. He could hear Brodie’s voice again. 

“Raffs, I’ve got ye, alright. You’ll make a great diver, I promise.” 

And then it stopped growing. It had covered almost a third of the bell in colorful mold. Raffs let out a sigh of relief. However, the moment only lasted for a few seconds, because he noticed something else growing out of the biomass. Small white shapes poked out of the shape. Raffs moved a bit closer, trying to figure out what it was. He could still see, but images of Brodie and his mom obscured his peripherals. 

Then he finally saw what the white things were.

They looked like… Mushrooms? 

As Raffs stared at them, he felt a sense of euphoria. He felt good. His headache was fading, and it felt like his brain was being flooded with a good feeling. He wanted to get closer. He wanted to touch it. He wanted to be part of it. Without him even realizing, his left arm lifted, extending in front of him. He raised his hand up to the mushroom. He felt so good. Then he laid his hand on the fuzzy mushroom, stroking it softly.

And then it exploded. 

A white cloud of spores engulfed the entire interior of the bell, covering Raffs head to toe in a thin layer of white fluff. It filled his mouth and nose, and went right into his eyes. It tasted absolutely foul. He sat there for a second, trying to process what had just happened. It caught him by surprise. Then it registered that he was in pain.

“Agh! AAAGH!!! OH GOD, HELP ME!!! AAGGHHH!!! 

He fell back, coughing and choking as he struggled to move. He felt it filling his lungs, getting into his blood, flooding his entire body. Everything burned. He boked all over the floor, vomiting a white mushy mass that hit the floor with a sickening squelch! God, it hurt, it hurt so bad. His left arm ached, yet felt numb at the same time. It felt like something was crawling under his skin, getting ready to burst out at any moment. Brodie was up there, right? He was going to save him..

..Right?

“HELP ME HELP ME!!! AAAGGGHHH!!! IT HURTS, HEEEELP!! 

Raffs thrashed around, slamming himself into the walls in an attempt to alleviate the pain he felt all around his body. He saw images of family and friends flashing too fast for him to comprehend. He could hear Brodie, reassuring him that it would all be okay, that it would be over quickly. He felt so light, yet so strong at the same time. In the craze, he didn’t even notice that the pain was slowly fading away. 

His hands were getting bloody now. With each and every punch he felt stronger and stronger, eventually with enough force to dent the inner walls and destroy the equipment. 

“Calm down lad, it’s going to be alright, I’ve got ye.”

“BRODIE!!! BROOODDIEEE WHERE ARE YOU!! HELP ME!!!

“Shshshshshsh.. Calm down, laddie. I’m here.”

His entire body felt numb at this point, even while he started throwing himself against the portholes and hatch. For a brief moment, the bubbles in his vision moved aside just enough for him to make out the fact that the bell was now above water. But Raffs didn’t care. He wanted Brodie. He NEEDED Brodie! Why was he no helping! 

Eventually, the bell finally lurched to a stop, slamming against the brakes. Raffs was thrown to the floor, and wailed in pain. Then he heard a voice, a voice there for him, to help him, it would be okay, it would all be okay, Raffs. But this time he could tell the voice was real, just outside of the bell.

“Raffs! It’s Brodie! I’m here!”

“BRODIE HELP ME! GET ME OUT!! GET ME OOOUUUT!!! I FEEL WEIRD, BRODIE!”

Regardless, he continued to throw himself against the bell anyways. As he did that, he got another glance at the stuff on the wall. That stuff… That’s the weird shite that caused all of this! It’s that thing’s fault, not his! 

He lunged forward, almost running headfirst into the rainbow flesh. It needed to pay for this, for what it had done to Raffs. Everything was perfect, it was so perfect and good, and everything was going so well..!

Raffs began tearing at the flesh like a rabid animal. Pieces of shredded flesh flew everywhere as an oily substance splattered all over the walls and all over Raffs. 

He didn’t stop, he just kept going. He wasn’t going to stop until there was nothing left of the biomass. He kept shredding it until there was nothing left of the mass, all that remained were some small chunks of mold, viscera, and oil covering the walls.

Then Raffs’ head snapped back towards the hatch. Out. Get out. He threw himself into the hatch and desperately tried to open it. He tried everything to open it, but it was stuck fast. He was screaming, sobbing, and crying as he tried to tear it off the hinges. He needed someone to help him, he just wished someone was there for him. That’s when he heard voices from outside the bell having a conversation. Raffs listened to the conversation as he began trying to tear through the walls. 

“Wh.. goi.. on Brodie, wh……. happened?

Raffs could just barely make out what they were saying. The voice on the other side sounded familiar, though, as if it was someone who he had just spoken to earlier. 

“I don’t… right? The dr…. something.. gas explosion..”

They were just outside of the bell. Just outside of reach. Yet it felt like they didn’t even notice him, as if they didn’t even care. Those fucking BASTARDS! He yelled and screamed in anger and pain, trying to catch their attention, but to no avail. But then someone finally noticed, it was Brodie. Brodie!

“Raffs, I’m here! I’m going to get you out, alright? I’ve got ye!” 

BRODIE! Where was he, that bastard? Fucking Brodie, he abandoned him, he left him to rot. He left him to die out there. He never cared about Raffs. The diver continued slamming against the bell, doing anything to get out there to Brodie. He tried to shout insults at Brodie, but all that came out was gibberish to brodie.

“B-BrodIEEEE!! DON’t Do thiS TO MEEE!!!!”

Raffs lunged against the hatch one more time, and finally it broke. Shrapnel flew everywhere as the door was dislodged. When the hatch flew open and slammed against the bell, Brodie could finally hear and see Raffs clear as day.

“Brodie…!! WHY!!?? Don’t leave me, PLEASE!!!”

“F-Fuck.. Raffs?” Brodie stammered. His voice cracked as he tried to swallow. He couldn’t believe what he saw.

“Yo-You said you would BE THERE FOR ME!!!”

Raffs clawed against the opening of the dive bell, trying to pull himself out, and ignoring all of the other pain he felt. His skin and flesh tore against the hatch, but he kept going. He needed Brodie. 

“Raffs.. Oh man..” Brodie said as he stared on in horror. Blood poured down Raffs’ face, filling his nostrils, burning his eyes, and clogging his throat. His entire dive suit was completely destroyed, shredded and beaten.

He was covered all over in blood and small mushrooms. His left shoulder and arm looked like it had completely exploded with fungi, small mushrooms and veins covering his neck and back. His entire lower half was completely gone, replaced with a large mass of flesh, fungus, and viscera. 

It was horrible. How could he have let this happen to Raffs..?

“B-Brooodiieee… Whats.. Happening? 

“God almighty.. Fuck..” Brodie took a step back. He closed his eyes and swallowed, trying to not break down in front of the lad. Raffs made his way out of the bell and fell down onto the deck, groaning in pain and sobbing. He trailed blood and a rank brown liquid behind him as he pulled himself closer to Brodie. 

Why was Brodie moving away from him? Didn’t he want to help him! He wanted to help, right? He was going to help him!! Now!!! His arm was weakened. He couldn’t move any farther. What had become of him? Raffs broke down sobbing, choking and coughing while tears flowed down to his cheeks and onto his chest. 

“Brodie.. P-Please!!” Raffs said, coughing up blood and groaning in pain. Brodie fought hard to not start sobbing along with the lad, and Raffs could tell. Brodie didn’t want to make Raffs feel worse. He wanted to be a role model, someone who he could always look up to and trust. But he knew he couldn’t fight forever. He took a deep breath and kneeled down to Raffs. 

“Shsh… It’s okay, Owen.. I’m not going to leave ya.”

Raffs whimpered in pain, and what started as a small whimper turned into a loud, ear piercing wail. Brodie’s heart shattered at the sound, and his eyes teared up. He wiped away the tears, and sniffled. Raffs extended his arm up to Brodie, as if begging for mercy.

Brodie wanted to talk, but his throat was shut. He couldn’t speak. 

He put his hand in Raffs’ hand. “Look, Raffs. I.. I-I’m going to help you, alright? I.. I’m here..” He swallowed. “I’ll go get help, alright? I’ll come back, lad.”

Raffs looked up at Brodie with crying eyes. “You promise..?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t ever abandon you, alright? I love you, Owen.”

Raffs tried to form a smile, but he couldn’t. Brodie could tell he at least tried, though. He stood up, and made his way to the ladder. 

“Bye, Brodie..” Raffs said. His voice was raspy, and he was losing control of his vocal cords. Brodie was just close enough to hear him say that. He made his way up the ladder, and turned to Raffs just one last time. Raffs could barely lift his arm anymore, at most a few inches. He lightly shook his arm to wave at Brodie, and his arm fell to the floor, going completely limp. Brodie waved back, and began to cry. He walked along the platform and disappeared from Raffs’ view. 

Raffs… Was happy. Brodie was going to come back, he was just going to get help. It was nice to know that at least someone still cared for him. Someone still loved him. As the mold creeped up his neck, the images of him and Brodie sitting in the crew lounge came back. Brodie kept telling him how much of a good lad he was. Raffs took another sip of hot cocoa. It felt good in the cold, numbing air. It was sweet, and it filled his chest with a warm feeling. 

“Raffs, I wouldnae ever leave you. You know that, right?”

He tried to speak, but couldn’t. All he could do was look at Brodie with crying eyes. It began to rain heavily now. The water only made the stuff grow faster. As time went on, the hallucination became more and more distorted. Brodie stopped talking and the crew lounge began to shift and turn. The screen became static and the table disappeared. Eventually, there was no more crew lounge, just Raffs and Brodie sitting on the couch in silence. Brodie turned to Raffs one last time.

“I’m sorry, Owen.. It’s.. It’s time to l- let g…oo…” 

Then Brodie and the couch faded away.. It was growing increasingly inevitable to Raffs at this point. He didn’t want to think about it. But he knew it was true. It was okay, nonetheless, maybe.. Maybe this was for the better. Raffs closed his eyes once more, and smiled. Raffs shed a tear. It rolled down his cheek, onto his chest, hrough the grate. Then it was just another drop in the rainstorm. 

The rig shook over and over, and Raffs didn’t mind how increasingly unstable it was becoming. As long as Brodie was alright. He kept hearing Brodie’s voice from earlier repeating over and over in his head. It was comforting to him. Even if he wasn’t there with him. 

When the rig shook once more and the metal screeched, the pipes fell and the lights flickered. Raffs was happy. 

When the beams buckled and the screws broke, the ropes snapped and the deck tilted. Raffs was happy. 

When the cold air rushed past him, when he was just another drop in the rainstorm, he was finally free. As long as Brodie was fine, as long as he made it.. 

Raffs was happy. 

[kelcemenow]

Touchdown - Chapter 2.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 825

Warnings Slightly less of a slow burn for this chapter, but we're still only getting started.

CHAPTER 1.

CHAPTER 2. 

Taking a long and deep breath, you held the phone in your left hand whilst your pen was poised over the blank page of the notepad in front of you. The relaxing hold music had been playing for what seemed like forever. Terry had said he would contact Travis personally and then transfer the call over so you could speak to him. You had run through a few simple questions to ask him, hoping that the call wouldn’t last too long.  

“Y/N?” Terry’s voice rang out.  

You suddenly sat bolt upright in your seat, “Y-yes, I’m still here.”  

“I’m putting Travis through now for you.” Terry had a hint of an American accent, but you could tell that he had travelled a lot. He sounded older, friendly but straight to the point when it came to the job.  

“Thank you, Terry.”  

There was a quiet click before a short period of silence. You glanced over at the phone to make sure you was still connected when a deep, slightly gruff voice rang into your ear. 

“Hey, Y/N? Travis Kelce here.”  

“Hi Travis, um, thank you for taking my call.” You said brightly, trying to sound as professional as you could.  

“Don’t sweat it.”  

You awkwardly cleared your throat, your eyes scanning the computer screen in front of you, “So, I just wanted to hear from you regarding your recent success. The fastest Tight End to reach 10,000 yards is pretty impressive. Tell me how you’re feeling after last night’s game.”  

“I feel awesome, obviously. But I couldn’t have done it without everyone. Pat, Andy and rest of the guys have led me to that win. I just want to play football and everything else is just a bonus.”  

“Sure, of course. Um…can you tell me…um…”  

“Y/N?”  

A nervous feeling washed over you. “Yes?”  

“Relax. We’re just talking.”  

You laughed under your breath as you furiously scribbled what he had said onto the paper, “Sorry, I’m new to this. I erm…”  

“Hey. I’ll make this easy. Football is more than my career, it’s my life.” You could hear a smile in his voice, “Achievements like this make it all worthwhile to make my family proud for all of those years taking me to football practice and buying my sneakers and jerseys year after year. How was that?”  

“Um, great, actually. Thank you so much Mr Kelce.”  

He laughed loudly, “Ah man, come on. It’s Travis! You don’t have to be so serious with me ma’am.”  

You laughed back, “You can’t call me ma’am then! It makes me sound so old.”  

“I’m sorry, my Momma brought me up right, especially when I’m talking to a lady.”  

You giggled and glanced up, a few colleagues were looking over at you. You cleared your throat and settled into your seat, resting your chin on the heel of your hand, “So, what is next for Travis Kelce?”

“More football, more victories and more good times. Anyway, we’re talking an awful lot about me here, tell me about you.”

You were taken aback, “Um…well…wait-what?”

“I mean, I’m sure interviewing football stars has been your life’s dream and all, but what’s your deal?”

You supressed a small smirk, “Why don’t you just let me ask the questions, Mr Kelce?”

“Ah ah ah, Travis.”

“We should probably keep this professional, Mr Kelce.”

There was a pause before he breathed a laugh, “Of course, do go on.”

“So, we’re about halfway through the season now and-“

“Are you single?”

You sighed, “Are you always this difficult?”

There was another laugh, “Only when I’m being interviewed by someone with an irresistible British accent.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

You paused again whilst you tried to think of another question. He had you nervous, fumbling your words and distracted heavily from your work. You shook your head at yourself, failing at the first big job that had been assigned to you.

He broke the silence first, “Do you have any more questions?”

“Um, I think I’m done. Thank you for your statement and good luck for the rest of the season.”  

“That’s quite alright. I hope to speak to you again in the future.”

You paused, unsure of what to say. “You too. I…um, I mean…I-“  

He laughed again, “You’re cute. Peace.”  

“Yeah…bye. Goodbye.” You put the phone down before lowering your head to the desk. The cool wood against your forehead just highlighted how much heat was coming from your skin. You could feel your face turning red from embarrassment.   

“Not good?” Your head snapped up to see Hannah standing in front of you with her arms crossed.  

“I was an absolute idiot.” You smiled, “Please don’t say I have to do that anymore?” 

Hannah smirked, “I don’t know, maybe? Although if it was as bad as you think, you might not be asked to do it again.”  

Your head returned to the desk, letting out a small groan on its way. 

______________________________________________________________

I have so much planned for this! I am on holiday next week but the next chapter will be out soon! If you would like to be added to my taglist so that you never miss a chapter, just give me a shout!

Taglist @rd14 @dandelionwrites8 @keiva1000

[speedforce-zoomies]

Y’all know what I think would make an interesting AU?

If everyone in the 90’s Young Justice was a clone or a “clone”

Canonically we’ve already got two out of the main ten

Conner Kent/Superboy being a “clone” of Superman & Lex Luthor

& Slobo being a clone of Lobo

Two things to note 1) I think it’s kinda boring if all of them have the same backstory so I’ll still try to give them all a reason that they’ve left Cadmus early in life

And 2) If we’re looking at all the various DC works 1 to 1 clones usually have some major issues

For example the other attempts at cloning Superman didn’t work, the DNA was too unstable

And in the DCAU, the Supergirl 1 on 1 clone had the side effect of being mentally connected to Supergirl which made her mentally unstable and Waller purposely avoided going the 1 to 1 route with Terry implying that it was still not a smart route to go down decades later

Therefore every “clone” will still have two “parents”

Let’s start with the other members of the core four

Tim - obviously a clone of Bruce, could add in Selena’s DNA if the scientists want some extra kick or he could still be the son of Janet so that he’s raised in a similar manner (rich kid upbringing) to Bruce

Janet and Jack could be having fertility issues and are given an opportunity to have a child through Cadmus and they just ignore all the weird stuff like rich people tend to do. Maybe they know Tim is Bruce’s clone, maybe they don’t. 🤷🏼‍♀️

Cassie - Diana Prince & Steve Trevor - not only would this give them access to the Amazons/Themyscira but also to a member of military personnel who knows a lot of stuff he probably shouldn’t

If this pairing Helena Sandsmark could be chosen to adopt her specifically so that she has a higher chance of interacting with the Greek gods which activates her powers (I mean Helena is already canonically interacting with them - might not be hard for Cadmus to realize that)

Could also do Diana & Helena Sandsmark, she could be in the same boat as Janet in the earlier scenario and just rolls with all the weird stuff.

Bart - Barry and Iris. Could still have the aging problem and still raised in Virtual Reality just some centuries behind the usual route. Imagine him thinking up the twins names himself - I mean Dawn and Don as twin names SOUND like they came from a kid raised in VR lol. When Barry and Iris later have the twins, they just roll with the names because Bart said them so matter of fact and Cadmus acts like they aren’t surprised that Bart got it right about Iris’s pregnancy.

Maybe they send him to go find Wally through suggestions from the VR so that he can better learn his powers/can become the next Flash and then Wally sends him to Max like in canon.

Now for the others…

Cissie - super easy Bonnie & Ollie. Bonnie as an Olympic-level archer wants her daughter to be the best archer and a hero and so she seeks out Cadmus and asks just straight up asks them for a clone.

Greta - I’m sorry to say is a mystery. She was a failed clone but no one seems to know who her original DNA came from.

Anita - could be a clone of her mother Oshi if Agua killed Oshi before she had Anita. Cadmus could reach out and be like hey Donald Fite it’s not the same as having your wife back but um, we could clone her? Give you a kid? Maybe Agua pushes for it idk

La'gaan - I couldn’t find much about his history prior to him becoming an Atlantis citizen so I imagine Cadmus might have captured his “parents” or maybe it’s someone who works with Orm and wants to send in a spy and though a child would be easier to get in than an adult. When Aquaman makes him a citizen he decides not to betray his confidence.

Ray - cloned from the original Ray and his wife or another golden age hero. Again pretty simple. Cadmus just thought he was neat. They are obsessed with Sun based superheroes after all. Ray is one I could see being locked up in Cadmus until the formation of the team since he was already locked away from the Sun in his origin story.

So at some point I imagine Tim would probably start to unravel things which would lead to similar events to canon (regarding the formation of the team I mean) but I just think it would be interesting since cloning is so prevalent in the DC universe to have an entire team of clones or “clones”

Maybe after distributing the other clones Luthor gets the idea to actually raise Conner himself which is always a fun AU

Plus with all this cloning going on they could potentially have the tools to prevent Slobo’s body from degrading which is a nice bonus

What do y’all think?

[yannaryartside]

Carmy and Luca teach the same way

and who may be the reason

Soooo I have this crazy theory, about what made Luca and Carmy teach the way they do in the present.

Luca and Carmy have a lot of things in common, like their passion and drive (and those tattoos omfg) but I want to bring some attention to how they treat the people who work for them, particularly when these people are making mistakes.

There is this scene in s1x02 in the new york flashback, you see a cook struggling with a sauce and asking Carmy for revision, and he just says something like "Not ready chef, again" he doesn't call her stupid or screams at her, he just gives the instruction even when they are in the heat of service, giving her the opportunity to correct her mistake, while the executive chef (a piece of shit) sends her home immediately, and then proceeds to insult Carmen. From what I have heard, the behavior of the executive chef is pretty common in the industry at this level, and Carmy comes from an abusive household, so who tf did he learn patience from?

Luca also has a "Not right chef, again," with Marcus, while practicing decorating a dessert. He gives him the opportunity to try again, he doesn't insult him or screams either.

You may think this can be their respective personalities. We know Carmy is gentle and generous at heart, he really wants to see people around him be well. But it seems tooo intentional to make both of them say pretty much the same line to somebody they are mentoring.

Both Luca and Carmy give compliments when they like something, and give direct instructions and explanations, even to people who are total newbies, like Marcus (Luca) and Tina (Carmy). Even when the norm in this industry is to make people feel bad so (hopefully) they are too afraid to make mistakes again, preserving a cult to toxicity.

SO HOW THE FUCK CARMY AND LUCA LEARNED TO BE BETTER?

I think it may be HER.

Again, it seems too intentional. The only thing in common between Carmy and Luca is working for her, and both preserve the motto: "every second counts", in their respective businesses. Like, It is a nice motto, but it may have some other feelings attached to it.

Why the fuck did they cast Olivia Coleman, one of the most wholesome and funny actresses now, that tends to be cast in "mother" roles, for this? They also gave her a sweet name: Chef Terry.

Just imagine the young and hungry Carmy and Luca working for this sweet pie. The only time we see her in "Forks" she is sharing a personal story with a person she has never seen, Richie, and is dedicating time and diligence to a task that is way below her pay grade. Carmy and Luca were both "comis" in her restaurant, also known as line cooks, and their roles were like a soldier to a general, they were not making orders, just regular-ass cooks in this great place. They probably had the opportunity to see Chef Terry give orders and pep talks. Probably both shocked at her personality and approach to her business.

All of her employees have this "service" mentality, instead of an "I am gonna look good and smoke you" mentality, that Carmy mentioned in his monologue. All of them have this motivation to make others happy, and they support one another, they support new ideas and crack jokes in their spare time. Like, all their scenes with Richie (that, sorry, had no talent or reputation for them, they just wanted to respect another fucking human being that wanted to improve) speak volumes.

Carmy and Luca could have learned from Chef Terry, that you can build people up, instead of tearing them apart. I think that would make sense.

I NEED THIS FASHBACK. A CONVERSATION THEY HAD WITH HER, OR HER JUST TALKING TO THE STAFF.

Man, and if it comes in a time when Carmy needs to remember how to be a good leader, from the most "mother" chef he has ever work under? Like man....

btw I really recommend this page if you are confused on the hierarchy of the kitchen:

Anyway, this may be a little of a stretch, but I just think it may be really wholesome, thank you for reading!

[bluejaysandblackbats]

You're Just Like Quicksand

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Batman Beyond

Summary: Jason Todd is ready to go into semi-retirement after fifteen years working with troubled youth, but one case in particular forces him to confront the sins of his youth and painful memories from his past.

Chapters: 14/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Terry McGinnis, Warren McGinnis, Mary McGinnis, Matt McGinnis, Bruce Wayne, Original Character(s)

Relationship(s): TBA

Additional Tags: Protective Jason Todd, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Retired Jason Todd, Multiple POV, Hurt/Comfort, Parent-Child Relationships, Canon Divergent AU, Angst, Mourning Jason Todd

Chapter Fourteen: Fathers and Sons (Terry McGinnis' POV)

I hadn’t heard from Jason in over two years, but he was at the funeral. I thought it was strange. I wondered who invited him. I wondered why he stood so far away. Mom couldn’t move. She couldn’t process any of it. So, we stood beside her as everyone paid their respects and went home. They could go home. I couldn’t. I could never go home again. I had to officially move in with Mom once they let me into the crime scene that was once my dad’s apartment. Everyone left, and I stayed behind. Mom took Matt home, and Jason finally approached. I couldn’t pretend. I resented him for letting me go without a reason. So, I let him have it. I couldn’t remember what I said, but I know it was harsh. He stood there, tall and strong with sadness in his eyes. Jason didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. I tore into him until I didn’t have any other words to describe how I felt. And without missing a beat, he said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you… But I knew you were good. I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t think you could handle it… But I missed it. Every moment.”

I swallowed hard. My stomach was in knots. It only took a few little sentences for me to forgive him. I knew he’d understand my grief. My anger. My emptiness. “What are you doing here?” I questioned, my voice breaking as I asked him. 

“I promised Mary that I’d look after you while you got your things. I also promised her that I’d try to get you to eat. We could get whatever you want,” Jason whispered, “We’ll go eat… And then we’ll get your stuff. I promise.” 

“Why? Why now?” I asked. 

“Because I lost my parents as a kid. And in retrospect, I think I needed someone who could show me how to process grief without being pacified with emotionally addictive coping mechanisms. Are you alright with me coming around for a little while?” Jason questioned. I wanted to say no. I wanted to pretend I didn’t need him, but I couldn’t lie. I nodded. 

** 

After Jason took me to eat, we went to the apartment. Jason came with me, and he stood by quietly while I packed everything that I could into a box. Everything I owned fit into one big box. It made me feel sick and empty in my chest. I looked up at Jason, almost pleading for him to feel it for me. Feel my pain.  

“One of the kids in my program took my family from me. He got too attached… And he—. He developed a jealous streak. He thought I passed his case on because of my children… And he took them from me. I was afraid that those feelings would keep me from helping you… And I didn’t want to make the same mistake of passing your case onto someone else, so I stepped away. Besides, you were so independent. You didn’t need me as much. You and Warren were doing alright. But, he—. He called me. He said something changed a few months ago. What was it?” Jason questioned. The confession seemed out of place. 

“It wasn’t like that. I get into with some guy at school sometimes, but it’s—. Dad was swamped at work. He didn’t have the time to talk about it anymore… So, I stopped explaining. I’m not messing around with gangs or stealing anymore. I swear,” I promised him. He nodded. “I would’ve understood if you told me what happened to your kids. I’m sorry, Jason.”

“It’s—. Thank you… I probably should’ve explained, but I—. It’s a lot to dredge up,” Jason replied, “Which is why I want you to talk about this on your own time. I’ll be available whenever you feel like talking about him. I spent a lot of time talking to Warren. We became friends. He was kind to me.”

“What did you have in common with my dad?” I questioned. 

Jason smiled as tears slid down his cheeks. “He had a normal life… Normal problems… But this—.”

“Feels wrong… I don’t think Dad would’ve opened the door for those twips,” I interrupted him.

Jason nodded as he looked around. He must’ve seen something because his jaw tightened. “Terry, after today… don’t come back here. Something’s not right. This isn’t—. If you see something weird, I want you to call me,” Jason whispered. He stepped into the doorway, and I could tell there was something wrong in his eyes. A switch flipped, and he scanned over everything. 

“What is it?” I questioned. Jason shook his head as he took me to his car. His face went dark, and he looked around. 

“I don’t know… I just feel strange about all of this, Terry. Get in the car, and I’ll take you to Mary’s. It’s getting dark,” Jason whispered. He shut the door and got in the driver’s seat. I looked at Jason. 

“Does this mean I’m back in the program?” I asked. I felt stupid as soon as I asked it. 

“Is that what you want?” Jason questioned. 

He wanted me to say it. Not for his ego. I don’t think he had one, but it was all for me. He wanted to know what I wanted. And he needed me to ask him. I started hyperventilating, and Jason tapped the dashboard between us until I calmed down. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without my dad,” I mumbled.

“And I can’t fill that space, but I can create a space for you to cope if you’ll let me help you,” Jason answered. 

We didn’t say anything else for the whole ride home, and he walked me up to the door and said goodbye to my mom and Matt before leaving. And somewhere in between me entering my room and seeing Matt, I dropped my dad’s picture and found the disc. And that’s when I decided to get involved with Bruce Wayne. I didn’t know much about the old man, and I didn’t really care, but I needed his help. I knew I couldn’t go to Jason because he’d tell me not to get involved. He would’ve taken over, and I wanted my own answers… and it was Mr. Wayne’s company. 

**

Jason picked me up from school after Powers’ people accosted me. He pinched the bridge of his nose, before sighing. Avery-Marie sat in the back seat, kicking her feet. She had noise-canceling headphones on. “Are you okay?” Jason asked.

“I’m alright… Is that Avery-Marie? She’s so big now,” I whispered. 

“Yeah… She’s in kindergarten… Why is Powers’ muscle hassling you?” Jason questioned. 

I shook my head like I didn’t know, and he accepted it. He knew I was lying, but he didn’t push for an answer. “Powerphones off,” Jason commanded, and Avery-Marie looked up. 

“Grandpa, can I have a cookie in the car?” Avery-Marie asked. 

“Sure, Avie. Did you see Terry in the front seat?” Jason questioned.

“Hi, Terry! Do you want a cookie too?” Avery-Marie offered. Her blonde curls reached past her shoulders, and she wore glitter star stickers on her face. “Grandpa, is Terry coming over to play?” 

Jason tapped the steering wheel as he started driving. “Not today, Sweetpea… Terry’s busy.” Avery-Marie pouted as she handed me a cookie.

“Maybe some other time… ‘Kay, Avery-Marie?” I offered. 

Jason nodded. “If he’s free, maybe he can babysit sometimes,” Jason suggested. He wanted me at the office. I knew what that meant. He wasn’t ready to let the situation with Powers go. Not completely anyway.

[spookygingerr]

what season or arc do you like with the most and why? 💫

Hi Alex!

This is actually such a hard question because I feel like a lot of the arcs I enjoy aren't fully explored on the show and that's what intrigues me so much. But then there are also arcs on the show that I enjoy that I feel are done well. Plus you asked which season I like most as well. I am going to answer all 3 because, like I said, I'm ready to yap.

Favourite unexplored arc:

Mickey and the Milkovich's. Yes I know he is a main character and the Milkovich's appear a lot but there's so much we don't know. First of all, who is his mum? Is she dead or did she run out? Why did he say that Rachel (the woman that Terry left a box for in season 11) 'could be his mum' when he knew who his mum was in season 1 when she was throwing a party for Iggy returning from juvie? Was that Iggy's mum and Mickeys step mum? Why did Mickey say his mum ran out in season 10 (when handcuffed to the washer before the wedding and talking about Terry selling the Christmas gifts his mum got them) but Ian said to Mandy in an earlier season 'you're lucky your mums dead'? Aside from the issue of who birthed Mick and where she is now, I just want to know more about Mickey's life away from Ian and the Gallaghers. He has so much personal growth but I want to see this happening, not just in relation to Ian. Of course Shameless is mainly about the Gallaghers but Mickey is a main character in the UK shameless too so it'd be great to have his life more fleshed out. Thankfully there are amazing writers filling in the blanks and giving us amazing head-canons. I am loving motherhood and what comes of it by @em-harlsnow. Side note, please share your fave Milkovich fanfics!!!

Favourite explored arc:

EMT Ian. I absolutely loved this career for Ian and I'm so glad that we got to see a fair bit of him at work. Of course it is incredibly sad that he wasn't able to do it for long but I hope that he gets to be an EMT again in the future. Helping others and being a part of a team is so important to Ian, and whilst I'm sure the business with Mickey is fun for a while I think he'd try to go back into being an EMT or something similar. They need some time apart and Ian needs to feel useful. He's always been that way. Plus he looked great in the uniform.

Favourite season:

Season 4/5! (I can't pick because the story line overlaps!) Cam and Noel did an incredible job with showing us Ian's bipolar and the strain it had on their relationship and how amazing Mickey was throughout 'he's got me'. I think my favourite scene from the entire show is when Mickey comes to the Gallaghers after Ian got home from the hospital and says 'sorry I'm late'. We finally see Mickey kick the last of his walls down. I also adore Svet, Mick and Ian living together and co-parenting Yev. It's the only time we get to see Mickey have any healing around that horrendous situation. Plus it showcases once again what an amazing care taker Ian is, taking Yev under his wing instantly and him pushing him around in the pram with Liam.

Hope you're not all yapped out sorry! What is your fave season/arc?