#the show really plays with the charges and years don’t they

[bobbie-robron]

I’m pleading guilty to manslaughter. CPC have accepted it.

29-Dec-2017

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 14] Feelings of Betrayal

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

*It's a shorter chapter but for a reason🥹❤️ Baby is coming up so i made a little form for baby names since I don't have one picked out. If y'all want to submit any names that you really like

*also please send any asks to @tojilover1110 <3

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji’s tapping his foot, growing impatient as he waits for Shiu to show up. He called Shiu, and the man agreed to meet up to talk about everything that’s going on. Toji is convinced that you’re lying to him, not because he thinks Shiu is above that but because you’d say anything to get back at him. 

When Toji first confronted Shiu about the issue, Shiu sounded completely lost. He doesn’t know why he didn’t think of it immediately, you were clearly lying. But he doesn’t want to outright accuse you of lying without getting confirmation from Shiu first. 

There’s a knock on the front door, and Toji nearly runs to get it. He hasn’t been waiting for too long, but for him it feels like an eternity. His thoughts have just been consuming him… The thought of you and Shiu being together fills him with an unprecedented rage. 

“Hey…” Shiu awkwardly greets Toji the moment the door opens, and it answers all of Toji’s questions. Shiu did something with you. He sounds as guilty as charged. It’s not something that Toji usually picks up on, but there’s just something off that gives everything away. Toji stands in the middle of the doorway, making it impossible for Shiu to get through. “So… Are you going to let me in?”

“Did you sleep with her?” Toji won’t let Shiu inside so easily. He fears he’ll have a reaction that will lead to severe consequences, so he’d rather have Shiu outside, somewhere where he can easily slam the door shut.

“What are you talking about?” Shiu’s clearly guilty, even though he tries to play it off. It makes Toji want to strangle the man right there and then, but he has questions that only Shiu can answer.

“You know what I’m talking about.” Toji tries to keep himself calm because he knows he won’t solve anything if he just starts beating the shit out of Shiu. Shiu stays silent, biting his tongue. He came with the idea that he’d be honest with Toji, but he feels different standing right in front of him. 

“We didn’t– But we…” Shiu takes a deep breath, taking a step back to put more distance between him and Toji. “She gave me a handjob but that’s as far as we got.”

Toji’s vision slowly turns red, and he takes deep breaths to calm himself down. His hands go to his pockets as a precaution. Maybe a few months back he would’ve had Shiu pinned down and beaten some sense into him, but Toji remembers one thing over and over again: He’s going to be a father again soon. He’s not going to get into any trouble, even when the matter comes to you.

“Of course.” Toji scoffs. Toji has to look at the ground because the mere sight of Shiu is enough to get him to lose control. “You just couldn’t wait, you had to dig your claws in. Is waiting a year too hard? Or at the very least until my daughter is born.”

“The daughter you don’t want.” Shiu can’t help but point out, because he doubts that he really cares about that detail– Toji is just hurt and willing to use anything to paint Shiu as a bad guy.

“I want my daughter, don’t you fucking dare.” Toji is shaking from the anger that consumes him. He tries to take another deep breath to calm himself down. “Don’t you fucking dare going anywhere near her again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“She’s allowed to do whatever she wants. You two aren’t together because you were a bad husband to her. You always were.” Shiu says, and Toji’s teeth dig into his bottom lip so harshly he could bleed. “She’s allowed to move on with whoever she wants.”

“Not you, dammit! You’re supposed to be my best friend!” Toji yells, slapping his hand on the door, which makes Shiu take a step back. Shiu puffs out a breath, thinking of what to say next. 

Shiu is one of Toji’s closest friends. He does owe Toji loyalty– But really, who else is there to blame other than Toji? Shiu won’t allow himself to suffer simply because Toji got to you first. Maybe if you had done something to Toji, he wouldn’t allow himself to get close but you didn’t.

“I’m sorry, Toji.” Shiu sighs. “I’m not going to pass up on the opportunity of a great woman just for you. Just because you couldn’t appreciate her doesn’t mean I shouldn’t get a chance.”

“Curse you, Kong. I’ll kill you.” It could be an empty threat, but Shiu will not take his chances with Toji. Not when Toji goes back into his apartment, leaving the door wide open. Shiu isn’t a coward, but he values his life enough to know when to walk away.

When Toji walks back, Shiu is gone, which ends up being the best decision for the both of them.

Toji tosses and turns in his bed at night, too much on his mind which makes it impossible to sleep. This doesn’t happen to Toji, he barely looks at his pillow and he’s asleep. But not tonight. Tonight he keeps thinking about you and Shiu, wondering how this is possible.

You’re allowed to move on (even though he doesn’t want you to) but not with Shiu. And Shiu shouldn’t be doing this in the first place. He doesn’t know what hurts worse, the betrayal from Shiu or the fact that you chose his best friend of all people. He guesses Shiu’s betrayal stings the most since he did nothing to the man to make this happen. 

This is what Toji practically asked for, so he can’t complain. Maybe he should’ve been better, and wiser after everything; perhaps he would’ve had a better fate. 

Toji can’t do much. You’ve made your decision and he can’t force you to change your mind, as much as he wants you to. It fucking hurts that it’s Shiu, but at least Shiu will make a great step-dad. 

Yeah… His priorities have changed. He still longs for you to be by his side on the cold bed, but it isn’t his main focus. The daughter he didn’t want is what he cares about the most now.

Maybe a low blow is all he needed for him to reconsider what he should prioritize. 

Toji sighs, sitting up in bed before turning on his lamp. He won’t be able to sleep no matter how much he tries, he might as well continue working on the baby blanket. Her arrival is just in a few months. 

But he’s gone through this before, she’ll be here in no time.

[greynatomy]

worth the wait?

leah williamson x reader

i know i said that i retired from writing but i couldn’t not put one out for a pretty girl’s birthday, even if it’s a bit very late. happy birthday @totaly-obsessed <3

also credit to the show ‘scorpion’ for a bit of the plot and dialogue. it’s what inspired me to write this

———

The last three years was nothing short of a roller coaster. You moved to England from your small apartment in New York to work for the government — after being caught hacking into all their data, only telling them that you’d tell them exactly how you did it and wouldn’t be charged with anything.

In the first couple of weeks of getting settled in your new place, you’ve been going to the same little diner every single day. The diner was busier than normal, but you still took up a whole table to yourself, folders littered on top as you typed away on your laptop. 

You didn’t mind how busy it was, all in your own world until a figure slid into the booth right in front of you. You look up, eyes blinking rather quickly.

“Uh, I don’t know you. Why are you sitting there?”

Shocked by your words, she spits out a venomous apology, sliding out of the booth.

“I can see by your facial expression that you aren’t rather pleased by how I talked to you. People have told me that I have a very low EQ and don’t know how to deal with… emotions because I do not feel as one normal human does.” 

The woman sits back down in the booth in front of you, face now showing an amusing expression.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N Y/LN.”

“Well, Y/N, it’s interesting to meet you.”

“It’s interesting to meet you too.”

There’s a bit of an awkward silence as you kept staring at her. She shifts in her seat, not knowing the reason for your stare.

“You never told me your name.”

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh! Sorry, it’s Leah, Leah Williamson.”

“Okay.” You give her a tight lipped smile, going back to your work.

Leah was unsure of what to do. All she knows was that she saw a pretty girl in a crowded diner taking up a whole booth and next thing she knows, she’s sat across from her.

As she works up the courage to start a conversation, she’s lightly shoved deeper into the booth.

“Jen has a case for us so pack up.” The person is gone before she could steady herself.

“I apologize for Natalie’s demeanor, but this is urgent. Goodbye.”

Both of you didn’t know, but that would be the start of a very complicated relationship. The pair of you have gotten close over time, you even going to games to support her even if it’s not your favorite place to be.

You’ve also gotten close to some of Leah’s teammates, well you tried to keep your distance, but they keep popping up beside you.

“When are you gonna ask the skipper out?”

You were currently doing a crossword puzzle — not really a puzzle because all the answer were much to easy for your very smart brain — when one Katie McCabe came up to stand next to you after the game.

The team had just won against Aston Villa and are getting showered and dressed before leaving the stadium.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, come on man! Stop being a wimp and ask her to dinner.”

“Right now?”

“Yes! Right now!”

Standing by the locker room, you wait for the blonde to make an appearance.

“Y/N! Glad you could make it!” She walks up to you, wrapping her arms around your neck, pulling you into an embrace.

“Of course. You gave me tickets and- and you’re playing. You played great by the way.” You stutter a bit, always getting taken aback when she hugs you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Hey, uh, listen. May-maybe you’d want to—”

“—Hey, Leah!”

Your words were interrupted when a girl who had on gear from the opposing team walked up to where you stood with the girl mentioned.

“Jordan! What’s up?”

“Just wondering if you were still up for later?”

“For sure.”

“Okay! It’s a date!”

“It’s a date.”

Watching her walk away, you were frozen. Your plan was now thrown out the window.

“What were you saying?”

“Oh, just that I am, uh, going now. Goodbye.”

You turn your heels and speed walk your way out of the building, leaving a confused Leah behind.

Heating footsteps catching up behind you, you see Katie beside you.

“So? How’d it go?”

“Great, in fact. She has a date.”

“That’s amazing!”

“With Jordan.”

“Wait, what?”

You didn’t say any more, hopping into your car and driving off.

The Arsenal women hadn’t seen you in a week since you told Katie about Leah’s date. No one bothered to ask Leah because one; they didn’t know how to approach the situation and two; you asked them not to say a word.

You were stuck in your apartment as far as anyone knew, locked yourself away from everyone and everything other than your work and coworkers.

Leah and Jordan’s relationship didn’t last long, couple months at most and everything was mostly back to normal between the two of you. 

As much as Leah’s friends love and care for Leah, they grew fond of you too and didn’t like how she was treating you like some second option.

Of course you were completely oblivious, emotions are difficult for you to understand, not knowing why people keep telling you to be cautious with your heart.

Going into year two of knowing Leah, you’ve been to your fair share of dates of your own. Failed dates are what you would say they were because they never understood how your mind works/never took the time to understand you. 

“Hey, mate! It’s good to see you!”

Turning around, you spot Katie with a shopping basket of her own.

“It’s been a while since you’ve come around.”

“I have been very busy as of late.”

Before Katie could say a reply, she was interrupted by a familiar person.

“Hey, Katie! Did you happen to already grab the tomato sauce?”

Leah Williamson in all her glory, except she wasn’t alone. Your eyes tracing her figure from her eyes all the way down her arm to where her hand was, clasped with another.

“Y/N! Didn’t expect to see you here bud!”

‘Bud?’ You thought. ‘A very platonic name to call someone.’

“Leah.” You turn back to Katie. “It was very nice to catch up with you Katie. Goodbye.” With that you walked away.

“What’s her problem?” Leah asked, eyebrows furrowed as she watched your figure become smaller. Katie just sighs, rolling her eyes and also walking away from Leah.

This year was already starting way different from the last. You’ve locked yourself up, not bothering to leave your apartment unless it was for work.

And Leah? Well, she’s been preoccupied with her new relationship, pushing you off to the side once again. 

You were spiraling, not that you knew, not understanding what you were feeling so you hopped in your car to go for a drive.

Gripping onto the steering wheel with tears streaming down your face, you step on the pedal harder, not aware of anything around you. Next thing you knew, all you saw was black.

Back at the warehouse, Natalie was wondering where their leader could have gone, surprised how you weren’t there with them as you’re always early. The rest of the team had no idea where you were so she called the very last person she wants to call.

“Nat?”

“It’s Natalie, Williamson.”

“Uh, Okay. Natalie? Why are you calling?”

“Is Y/N with you?”

“No. Why?”

“Goodbye.”

Leah quickly gets out of bed where her girlfriend laid with her.

“Where are you going?” She asked, only to be ignored, the sound of the door slamming echoes through the house.

“Have you found her?” Was the first thing Leah asks as she barges into the warehouse where the team, minus you, gathered.

“You are not welcome here.” A man walks up to grab her arm.

“Let go of me. She’s my friend.”

“Some fucking friend you are then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Where’s your girlfriend?”

The arguments escalate, voices are being raised not noticing a figure walk through the door on unsteady feet. 

“What is with all the shouting?”

That’s when they see your disheveled face, eyes bloodshot from what looks like crying. It was silent for a moment before they all started shouting again, this time directed at you.

“Where have you been?”

“We’ve been trying to reach you for so long!”

“Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

“Shhh! You’re all too loud, thank you.”

Leah stomps over to you, grabs your hand and pulls you up to your room.

“Why are you trying to pull my arm out of its socket?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Yes? You were pulling too aggressively.” You state, walking to your closet to grab a new shirt.

“Everyone was worried about you.” You exclaims, hands waving to show how angry she is. “I was worried about you!”

“You were?” You ask, your fingers stopped buttoning your shirt halfway up.

Taken aback at your confused expression, she carefully steps towards you, trembling hands helped you finish the last buttons of your shirt.

“Of course I was! You’re my best friend.” She runs her hands from your chest, past your neck, resting on both of your cheeks, thumbs rubbing soothingly.

“If you are, then have you noticed this is the first time you’ve said a word to me in about three months?” Your voice was soft, tears on the verge of falling as you looked into Leah’s eyes.

“What?”

“You’ve not even looked my way when we happen to be in the same room together.”

“What-what do you want me to say here?”

“What I want you to say is why you always avoid me once you get into a relationship? And don’t give me that shit where-where she’s your girlfriend and-and she comes first because I was always pushed to the side with Jordan and now with whoever you’re with now.”

“That’s not true!”

“I don’t know what to tell you. But don’t come running towards me once this relationship of yours tragically ends just like the last time.”

You grab your jacket and walked out of the room, leaving Leah with her thoughts.

The drive home was quiet, the sounds outside of the car muffled. The key twists to unlock the front door, closing it behind her. Walking into the bedroom, she spots her girlfriend who’s sat on the bed, seemingly has not moved from when she left her.

“You okay?” Leah heard the question, but didn’t answer. So the woman pushed. “Where did you go? What happened?”

“Leave.” It was whispered too softly to be heard.

“What?”

“Leave!” Her voice stronger.

“What do you mean leave?”

“I mean leave my apartment. I-I don’t. I don’t know, but I wanna be alone.”

“I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

“Please.” Vulnerable. That’s how she sounded, almost pleading for the woman to do as she says. Getting the hint, she hastily leaves, grabbing all her things.

Finally alone in her apartment, Leah lets the tears fall, the weight of the day felt heavy on her shoulders.

‘I was always pushed to the side.’ Your voice echoes in her head. Did she push you aside? But she didn’t mean to. Right?

She doubted herself, unsure of what was true or not, even if she was the one who lived it.

Months passed with no communication between the two friends former friends. Well, Leah tried, texting, calling, sending letters and was met with nothing but radio silence. Leah isolated herself. She barely slept, went to training and home right after, not going out with friends to celebrate after a win. If she did go out, she finds herself staring at the entrance, hoping you would walk through.

You were the same.

You stared at the computer screen, eyes flicking from one thing to another. The numbers and letters blurred together, seemingly losing all meaning, but that was okay. Meaning wasn’t the goal. Distraction was. 

Your coworkers, your friends grew worried. They could see the dark bags that formed under your eyes, knowing you haven’t been sleeping much.

They never brought up Leah. She was the she-who-shall-not-be-named.

An envelope being placed on the keyboard snaps you out of working, seeing it was addressed to you. Opening it up, you see it was an invitation. A wedding invitation from two of your friends.

‘It was about time.’ You thought.

So here you were, sitting in your seat, which was conveniently right in front of Leah’s. Of course she’d be here. The guests mostly consisted of her friends as this was a teammate’s wedding.

Leah couldn’t keep her eyes off of you, even if it was just the back of your head. The bride stood at the altar, tears falls down her face as she sees her bride walk down the aisle.

At the reception, you stood off to the side, a bit overwhelmed by the amount of people around you.

“Would you like to dance?”

Turning towards the voice, you find yourself standing face to face with Leah and man does she look beautiful.

“I-I don’t know how to dance.”

“That’s okay. Just follow my lead.”

She grabs both of your hands, placing them on her waist as her arms rest over your shoulders.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for months.”

“I know.”

“And you didn’t bother replying back? I even sent letters. Who even sends letters to anyone during this time anymore?”

Your purse your lips, not knowing what to say.

“Why? I’ve been trying to-to hopefully right my wrongs, but I can’t do that when you won’t even talk to me.” Leah’s voice held desperation. “I mean you can’t even look at me.” 

Your eyes flick up to meet hers.

“Do you remember what I told you the last time we talked?”

‘…don’t come running towards me once this relationship of yours tragically ends just like the last time.’ She nods.

“I was tired of being the second choice. Tired of being pushed aside everyone some other girl catches the slightest bit of attention from you.” You remove your hands from her waist and take a step back to distance yourself a bit.

“I want to state for the record that I am not under the influence of any substance. I’m just stating an irrefutable fact. I pushed you away… because I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since shortly after we met. And I’ve spent years trying to process how that should be handled. Perhaps it’s not something that is supposed to be handled. Maybe it-it’s something that just is.” You take a breath shaking your head, a bit overwhelmed with the confession you just made. “And I-I know you-you don’t feel the same as I do. And that’s okay. But I-I just wanted you to know.”

“Y/N.” Leah says softly, taking a step closer. “I’m in love you to too.”

You lick your lips. “I don’t know what to do with that information.”

“I have an idea.”

The married couple decided to sneak away for a bit, finding a supply closet in their venue. Opening the door, their eyes go wide.

“I guess Leah is no longer Voldemort.”

“Close the door.” Leah says, putting the shoulder strap of her dress back in place.

“Hey, guys. Why’d you guys sneak—” Alessia gasps. “What am I looking at?”

“Close the door!” You state louder, buttoning up your shirt, hair disheveled.

“What are you all looking at?” Katie asks walking towards the group, looking into the closet. “Well it’s about damn time.”

“Anyone else want to come by? How about Kyra?”

“What’s up guys?” Kyra comes up, biting into a pastry that was provided.

You both quickly fix yourself up, a bit embarrassed with getting caught. Leah gives them all a stare, her captain stare, to let them know that they need to leave.

Once they’ve left, Leah wastes no time pulling your back in, her lips easily finding yours as she closes back the door.

“Glad Leah got her head out of her ass.” Katie states, walking up to the bar with the group.

“Right!”

[coollizzylou]

Everyone’s correct in saying that now more than ever we need to be building our communities, but it can be difficult to know what that actually *means*, especially in our isolating society. So here’s some straightforward practical advice I’ve learned over the few years I’ve been organizing in my own life.

You do not have to reinvent the wheel.

There are people who have been fighting this fight for decades. You are not starting from scratch. You do not have to do it all by yourself. All you have to do is find your allies and engage.

On the ground resistance movements/aid organizations that have legs under them may not have much of a social media presence. You may have to do some legwork find your place.

Check the local papers if you have one for your area. Sign up for your city government newsletter. Go to the library and ask what events are being hosted. Check Churches! Schools! Small businesses! Ask your local old ladies!!!! They have time on their hands and know what’s going on in their communities.

It’s ok if you don’t know anything. Listen to the people around you, ask questions, be respectful and curious. Just show up!! As you do this, you will learn more about the place you’re in and the people that live there. Those people will guide you, and there’s a non-zero chance that you’ll find a mentor willing to take you under their wing.

The logistics make the movement.

Demonstrations are important and powerful, but they are NOT the be all end all. Not even close.

There are people who’s job it is to take notes, people who host meetings, and people who pick up snacks. Some folks are especially good at getting the word out through tabling and canvasing, others are better at making the pamphlets that get handed out. You could be in charge of carrying heavy boxes of donated food, or you might be better suited preparing a hot meal sitting at the table. Are you able to watch young children? Drive carpool?

All of these tasks and more are essential to maintaining a healthy community group. Don’t be afraid to try new things and experiment to figure out where you can do the most good.

Your stories are your power

One of the most effective tools in your arsenal are your testimonies. When shared with friends they remind us we are not alone in our struggles. When shared with adversaries, they are undeniable proof of our humanity. You can quote facts and statistics all day, but a personal experience will always punch above it’s weight.

Think over your life and explore questions of what your personal stake in the game is. What about your life makes you want to fight. Really dig in deep. This can be uncomfortable. I recommend doing this among friends and being gentle with yourself. You don’t have to have any particularly special reason. This isn’t supposed to be performative. You aren’t trying to get a good grade in leftism, your goal is to identify your self interest. For example, I first got involved with the tenet union because I wanted to go to college in the city but knew I couldn’t afford to live there. I first got involved with planned parenthood because I was scared when Roe v Wade overturned. These are selfish reasons, they have to be for this to work.

With that information, you are prepared to sit with other people and ask them the same thing. If you are open and willing to listen to people’s stories, a casual conversation can lead to strong bonds of friendship. And when you’re friends with someone, you fight for them. This is the core of relational organizing.

There is joy here

Organizing can be difficult. Many things are in life. But from personal experience I can tell you that not only is this work worth it, but it can be *fun*. You can sing and dance and play music and scream and laugh and you’ll do it all together. Hold onto your hope, find your joy where you can, and take the plunge. You’ll be better for it, I promise.

[sceletaflores]

you need a seat? i’ll volunteer!

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader

summary: how much of a selfish douche does patrick have to be to not beg tashi to sit on his face every night? you certainly would.

—or: you show tashi what she’s missing out on…

word count: 3.7k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, girl kissing, oral (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving) but not really, cheating (i can't stop lmao), patrick catching strays, a hint of "there's only one bed" trope, kinda sad angsty wlw pining, like this got a little depressing at the end lmao, more plot than i thought it would have when i started writing it (i physically can't not write so much plot it's a disease), no use of y/n.

author's note: AHHH HAPPY PRIDE!!! this is purely self indulgent lmao no one asked for this but i just had to write it. this is my first ever wlw fic!!! I know, please stop clapping, it was my duty to post one during pride month. i'm still writing the homoerotic wlw friendship fic, i promise it's coming! i just wrote this one way faster than i thought i would lol okay hope you love it! mwah xoxo

You and Tashi sit across from each other on the bed of some fancy hotel room in Texas the night before a match against UT with a new, exciting charge in the air between you.

Actually, the two of you sit on the only bed in the room after a mix up with the hotel’s booking but “You girls are close, you don’t mind sharing? Right?”

Your coach was right, you don’t mind sharing at all. Not one bit.

You and Tashi were more than close. The two of you have been best friends since middle school, and playing tennis with each other just as long. Whether it was playing side by side or with one of you standing on the opposite end of the court. It was you and her, always.

You realized your feelings for Tashi Duncan were a little more than platonic when you were 15 years old. You were staying the night at her house, laying on her bed with your legs tangled together under the covers watching Mean Girls as Tashi idly braided your hair. It was during the Halloween party scene where Cady catches Regina and Aaron kissing when Tashi spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence between you. “Have you ever kissed a boy like that?”

You just shook your head silently, leaning further into her hands as Cady stormed out of the party on-screen. You didn’t know why she was asking you, you told her everything. If a boy kissed you like that she’d be the first to know. Tashi was silent for a few more seconds, tying off the end of your braid and resting her hands on your shoulders. 

“I could show you how,” she had said, “You know, for when guys want to kiss you like that.”

You immediately felt your heart start to race, palms suddenly sweaty. Her suggestion caught you off guard, but you think you heard that girls actually do stuff like that. It’s just practice, it’s not like it’s a big deal. Plus Tashi’s your best friend, you trust her.

You turned up to face her, searching her eyes for any hint of a joke, but you found nothing. Her face was earnest, bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she looked down at you, and her eyes filled with a mix of mischief and something deeper. 

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Tashi smiled, moving closer until your faces were inches apart. You closed your eyes as your breath mingled with hers, her hand settling softly on your jaw. The first touch of her lips was soft and sweet, sending a shiver down your spine. 

You gave in, parting your lips to let her tongue brush against yours. You felt something deep inside of you slot into place, like a missing puzzle piece finding its home. You got lost in the moment, mind going blank and fuzzy as your tongues explored each other's mouths. The thought of kissing boys suddenly felt unimportant and distant with Tashi’s lips moving against yours. 

All too soon she was pulling back, her face soft and flushed. “See? Not so scary,” she said with a smile, you swore you could hear a slight tremor in her voice. She brushed her thumb across your cheek once before she laid back against the headboard and cast her gaze to the movie still playing.

“Yeah…” you trailed off, leaning against her to watch Regina get hit by the bus. Your mind was still buzzing, the feel and taste of Tashi lingering on your lips.

That kiss changed everything for you, but the two of you never talked about it again. Tashi woke up the next morning as if nothing had changed, smiling at you over breakfast talking a thousand miles a minute about the new tennis club in town. It’s been years since then, years of pretending like you’re not really in love with Tashi Duncan, that it was just a phase. You just adore her so much, a totally normal platonic best friend kind of adoration, that’s all.

It’s well past the time you and Tashi should have been asleep by now, pre-match jitters and excitement keeping the two of you up late. You’d been talking for hours already, and somehow the topic has shifted into raunchier territory. Maybe later you’ll blame the pent-up energy for blurring your filter, but for now you were content swapping recaps of the latest hookups you’ve shared with Art for her stories with Patrick. 

The addition of Art and Patrick was definitely a new development in your relationship with Tashi. Two boys who thought they were being discreet following the two of you around the Adidas party all those months ago, taking turns chatting you up on the beach and inviting you back to their hotel room.

Then college started, and Patrick and Tashi were suddenly dating, and things sort of changed. Tashi was spending more time with him, leaving you alone to stew in your anger of feeling like the next best thing. Well not completely alone, Art was always there. In a similar situation as you, with Tashi taking up all of Patricks time when he’d visit campus. Leaving the two of you to sit in Art’s dorm sharing a handle of cheap vodka every time you got kicked out of your room so Tashi and Patrick could have some “alone time”.

Art’s hot, and he seemed to like you so it felt easy enough for the two of you to pair off like Tashi and Patrick did. You wouldn’t call it dating, friends with benefits fit better, but he was a nice distraction from the new Tashi shaped hole in your life, so you indulged. Tashi was overjoyed when she found out, so happy for you in every sense of the word. Constantly badgering you for details, like she was just before your conversation took a complete one-eighty.

“No way Patrick hasn’t asked you to do that before,” you ask a little too loudly, beyond shocked as you stare at Tashi sitting across from you on the mattress. 

She scoffs quietly, shaking her head as she picks at a loose thread sticking out of the comforter. “It’s kinda been all about him lately,” she trails off with a shrug, like that’s a good reason.

Fucking Patrick. You think bitterly, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. What a fucking loser.

You knew he wasn’t good enough for Tashi the second you met him. All flashy bravado and superficial charm, like a peacock strutting around with no substance. Tashi seems to like him enough so you bite your tongue at every dreadful detail she’s told you about their relationship, because you’re such a good friend.

Seriously though, how much of a selfish douchebag does Patrick have to be not to beg Tashi to sit on his face every night? 

You certainly would.

“Art and you do that a lot?” she asks nonchalantly, but her eyes have a certain look to them. One you can’t quite place, they’re sharper than they were before. Maybe even a tiny bit challenging, as if she’s daring you to go there. You were never one to back down from a dare, especially in front of Tashi.

You nod slowly, fingers toying with the edge of your shorts.  “A couple times.”

“How’s it feel.” She makes it sound like a question, you know her well enough to recognize that it’s more like a thinly veiled demand. Her voice is barely above a whisper but she may as well have shouted at the top of her lungs with the way it cuts through the space between you so sharply.

You see flashes of Art red-faced and needy as you knelt on top of him with your knees on either side of his head, of him spilling inside his boxers as you rode his face, using his tongue to get yourself off.

It has warmth pooling in the bottom of your stomach, thighs subconsciously clenching together. You imagine yourself in Art’s place, laying flat on your back as Tashi kneels above you, chasing after the taste of her with your tongue. 

“So good…” You whisper back, voice breathy like you just got done training. You can feel Tashi’s eyes on you, intense and persistent.

You meet her gaze, her familiar brown eyes dark and blown out in a way you’ve never seen before. She looks flushed, her cheeks tinged with the slightest hint of red. Her lips part ever so slightly, revealing a glimpse of teeth as she bites down on her full lower lip, a tiny gesture that sends a zing up your spine. It's like the room's temperature just shot up by ten degrees, creating a kind of heat that makes you feel light-headed.

Tashi’s stare is unwavering, it makes your skin crawl in the best way possible. She looks hungry, you feel a pang of unfiltered need shake your body like thunder. You’ve never felt deja vu before, but you’re guessing it feels something like this.

The offer slips past your lips before you can think of stopping it, “I mean…I could– I could like show you. If you want.”

For a second, there’s silence. All you can hear is the sounds of the city three floors below you flowing in through the window. The distant hum of traffic and faint chatter blend into a muted sound that underscores the tense quiet in your room. You hold your breath, forcing yourself to meet Tashi’s gaze. Every second that passes feels like an eternity, you’re inches away pretending it was a joke, from running away with your tail between your legs.

Then, Tashi’s eyes narrow slightly, her lips curling into a sly smile. She leans closer, bridging the small gap between the two of you, the mattress shifts under her weight. “Show me,” she murmurs, her voice an assertive whisper. The intensity in her eyes deepens, locking you in place. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears louder than the city noise outside. It wasn’t really a joke when you offered, but you never thought Tashi would actually call your bluff. You thought she’d just laugh, roll her eyes and call you gross with a smile on her face. You swallow hard, a mix of excitement and nerves churning in your stomach.

Tashi’s hand moves to your chin, gently bringing you closer to her. The electricity between you is palpable, a charged connection that sparks and crackles. Her thumb brushes across your lower lip, and you feel yourself leaning into her touch, your body responding before your mind can catch up. 

“Show me,” she repeats, her voice firmer now, a command wrapped in velvet. Her words hang in the air, thick with anticipation and promise. You nod, a small, almost unnoticeable movement.

“We- Art and I - we…uh, usually kiss before,” you try to sound casual. Tashi’s eyes soften, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

“Then kiss me,” she says. You can feel her breath on your skin, warm and inviting. You lift your hand, reaching out slowly. Your fingers brush against the bare skin of her arm, you’ve touched her millions of times before, but this one is different. It’s a hesitant touch that feels both daring and delicate. She doesn't tense or pull away; instead, she leans into your touch, her eyes never leaving yours.

Your throat feels dry, your mind racing, but you push through, your hand glides up her arm, tracing a path to her shoulder. Her skin is smooth, warm under your touch, and you can feel the slight tremor that betrays the relaxed front she’s putting on.

With every inch you cover, you feel more confident, your movements becoming more assured. You lean in, close enough that you can see the slight rise and fall of her chest, hear the faint hitch in her breath. 

It’s been years, but you swear her lips feel the same. It’s far from the slow, sweet, timid kiss you shared on her bed. The moment they touch yours, it’s like a jolt of electricity runs through your veins, reigniting a fire deep within you that never truly died. Tashi’s lips are soft, yet demanding, moving with a hunger that mirrors your own. You can taste the faint hint of her coconut lip balm and something that’s uniquely Tashi, a flavor you had almost forgotten but that comes rushing back with each second that passes. You lose yourself in the rhythm, the pressure, the way her tongue teases yours, exploring, claiming.

If you weren’t so fucking turned on, so fucking wet that you’re drenching your panties, you’d probably laugh. You’d laugh at how easily you ended up back here, kissing Tashi just because she asked you too. You wonder if she’s thinking about that night too, if she ever thinks about it.

Your hands find her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more needy. Without thinking, you drag Tashi onto your lap, her chest pressing flush against yours as her knees fall on either side of your torso. She responds quickly, her fingers tangling in your hair, grip tight enough to have you softly moaning into the kiss. 

It’s messy, wet, and consuming, with spit mingling as your mouths fight for dominance. Tashi still refusing to let go of the upper-hand even though you’re technically supposed to be the one showing her something, but you don’t mind. She bites your lower lip, hard enough to make you groan, sending a shock-wave of heat straight to your core. Her nails scratch against your scalp, pulling you impossibly closer. The air is thick with the sounds of your ragged breathing and the soft, breathy moans escaping your throats. 

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other, a small thread of saliva connects your lips before it falls and breaks.

“Show me,” she whispers again, this time softer, almost a plea. And with a newfound confidence, you nod, ready to give her whatever she asks for. 

“Off,” you say impatiently, tugging at the waistband of her shorts. Tashi’s eyes darken, her breaths coming in shallow, rapid gasps as she quickly complies, shimmying out of her shorts and tossing them aside. You waste no time, falling on your back so fast your body bounces on the mattress. You can hear the bed creaking as Tashi crawls towards you again, you can feel the warmth of her as she throws a leg over your hips and starts to make her way up your body. She pauses at your chest, hesitating. She looks down at you, her eyes more unsure and vulnerable than you’ve seen in a long time. You just smile softly, giving her a small nod and bringing your hands up to squeeze her thighs reassuringly. Her body is warm and firm beneath your palms. 

“Tash,” you whisper, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against her skin. “It’s just me.” 

Her eyes search yours for a second longer, the tension melts from her face, and she smiles. A real smile, not the fake one she gives pushy interviewers, one that reaches her eyes. Her vulnerability bleeds into tender determination as she gives you one sharp nod of her head and shuffles the rest of the way up your body.

With a sense of urgency, your fingers hook around the edge of her panties. Tashi’s trembling, her fingers digging into your shoulders, hips lifting slightly to aid you slide her panties to the side.

Being face to face with Tashi Duncan’s cunt feels euphoric. It feels right, like this is where you should have been all along. She’s so wet for you and so beautiful and so perfect and you can hardly wait to taste her.

You lean in, trailing soft, deliberate kisses along her inner thigh, feeling her shiver beneath your touch. Tashi’s breath hitches, a soft moan escaping her lips as you get closer to her core. Her eyes never leave yours, her pupils completely blown out and swallowing up the warm brown.

“Please,” she breathes, her voice strained with longing. The plea sends a thrill through you, has you feeling power drunk because the great Tashi Duncan is begging you. Begging you to touch her, begging you to make her feel good, begging you to make her come.

You lean your head up, you can feel her body tremble as your breath brushes against her. Your lips part, placing a soft kiss directly over her clit, making her squirm and moan softly above you. You flick your tongue out, teasing her, drawing more desperate sounds from her lips. 

The taste of her is intoxicating, flooding your senses and making you crave even more. She tastes like girl sweat, like girl sex, you moan into it, gripping her thighs hard to try in vain to steady yourself.

Tashi’s eyes flutter shut, her head falling back as your tongue slides through the wet slit of her cunt. Her response is immediate, lowering herself down against your tongue as a low moan escapes her lips. Tashi's hips start to move, instinctively seeking more, needing more.

You watch her through half-lidded eyes, mesmerized by the sight of her losing herself in the pleasure you're giving her. Her hands tangle in your hair again, guiding you, urging you on as you work your tongue along her slick entrance. The rhythm of her hips matches the movement of your mouth, and you can feel her growing wetter, absolutely drenching the bottom half of your face.

“Fuck, that’s so good,” she mutters, pretty face pinched in pleasure. You moan into her cunt, angling your head up to drag your tongue up her slit slowly until you reach her clit, sucking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue over it.

“Oh my God,” Tashi huffed. She opened her eyes and looked down between her legs, catching your glassy eyes with her own. The sight only made her grind her hips faster, “You’re so pretty,” She muttered. Your loud moan is muffled by her cunt, heart fluttering in your chest at her words. You can feel your hands start shaking with the intensity of the moment, way more intimate than it probably should be.

Her right hand lets go of your hair, shooting out to lace her fingers with yours. She squeezes your hand hard, gripping onto it like a lifeline as she rides your tongue. You respond in kind, using your free hand to guide her, to hold her steady as you delve deeper into her cunt, your nose bumping up against her clit. Her taste, her reactions, everything about her is perfect, and you can feel her body tightening, her muscles clenching as she gets closer and closer to the edge. 

Her other hand tightened its grip on your hair, pulling you closer as she threw her head back, a low, throaty moan escaping her lips. “Don’t stop,” she gasps, her voice breaking, “I’m close.”

You increase your pace, tongue working even faster over her clenching cunt. You lose yourself in her, in the rhythm of her movements, in the sounds of her moans and gasps. You need her to come, you need to see, need to feel it, need to hear it, need to fucking taste it.

And she does, her body tensing, then shaking as she cries out your name, the sound filling the room. You hold her through it, your tongue moving in gentle, soothing strokes as she rides out her orgasm, her body slowly relaxing under your touch. You keep going, tongue greedily soaking up everything she has to give you until she’s spent, her body going limp, her breath coming out in ragged, uneven gasps. 

Tashi leans back, blindly shoving her free hand down your shorts to delve between your slick thighs. Your hand grips hers harder, moaning out as her fingertips brush over your throbbing clit. Your eyes open to find Tashi already staring down at you between her thighs, the fancy hotel lights making a halo of light around her messy hair. She looks fucking ethereal.

You’re so worked up it only takes a few clumsy circles of Tashi’s fingers to push you over the edge. Back arching off the bed as you come, hips bucking up into her touch. Waves of pleasure crash through you as you soak your panties in your release as Tashi watches with sharp eyes. She keeps going, fingertips sliding over you with featherlight touches until you’re squirming away, thighs instinctively clenching shut.

Tashi falls back onto the bed next to you, the two of you laying beside each other trying to catch your breath. The room is filled with the soft sound of your synced heavy breathing, you can feel her hair tickling your neck from where it splayed out on the pillows.

“Patrick’s coming to the UT game tomorrow,” her voice breaks the silence, voice raspy and winded, “Art will probably be with him.”

Her impassive tone feels like a bucket of ice water dumped over your head. You look at her, but Tashi keeps her gaze trained on the ceiling, her chest rising and falling quickly. She’s sweaty, baby hairs sticking to her forehead, her face is stony. She closes her eyes, it feels like a door slamming in your face. Your heart sinks in your chest, dread starting to wrap its tendrils around you.

Patrick and Art. Their names hang in the air like a storm cloud threatening to burst, casting a shadow over the fragile intimacy of the moment. You swallow hard, trying to muster a response, but words elude you in the suffocating silence. Tashi speaks again before you can, “We should all go out to dinner after, like on a double date or something.”

You trace the outline of her profile with your eyes, the curve of her jawline, the faint sheen of sweat on her skin. Each detail seems sharper, more defined, as if etching itself into your memory with painful clarity all over again. You have to close your eyes too, scared if you keep them open that the tears burning your waterline will start flowing down your cheeks. All you can do is lie there, next to Tashi, and feel the weight of her words settle into the space between you, putting up a barrier you're not sure how to breach. 

“Yeah…sounds good.”

taglist!

@ebodebo @yuenity @artemis-b-writes @myahswrld

if you want to get tagged in any of my works just fill out this form!

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

Top 5 times Alfred Pennyworth has blatantly lied to peoples faces with absolutely no remorse

5. Jason nooo we never ever gave up on you lol vs. it might not even be the same dude master Bruce beat his ass

This one I find delightful. I support this motion. It’s okay to lie here the alternative is way worse.

(there's some gray area on whether or not this is strictly a "lie" or not. But let's be real, Alfred's laying it on a little thick here either way.)

(Red Hood and The Outlaws #7 (2016))/(Batman #645 (1940))

4. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about I don’t have a secret code

This one is fine. But I do think it’s funny that he denies it twice. Really plays up the drama! Not like it's urgent or anything, we're only trying to clear Bruce Wayne of a murder charge... (Nightwing #68 (1996))

3. No I didn’t put that ad in the paper what weird how that ended up there

This one was just embarrassing. After quitting his job during Knightfall In a last ditch effort to make Bruce stop being recklessly endangering himself, Alfred comes back after a vacation by placing a Butler Wanted Ad in the newspaper FOR Bruce, and then Alfred feigns ignorance when showing up for the job. Insane! (Batman #521 (1940))

2. You’re too late….

Just straight up lies to Nightwing to imply Tim died of The Clench. Seriously why would he say that. Seriously what the fuck. Genuinely no reason for him to do this. (Azrael #16 (1995))/(Robin #28 (1993))

1. No one calls me Alfie but you lol!!!

I get it Alfred: you wanna get laid, but lying to your ex girlfriend about a nickname that you are REGULARLY called by MULTIPLE people is not the way to go about it! (Nightwing: Alfred’s Return/Detective Comics #622/Detective Comics #563)

In conclusion, Alfred Pennyworth is addicted to shamelessly lying, for his own benefit, for the good of others, and oftentimes just because he finds it funny. Once an actor always an actor I suppose!

Honorable mention: Tim’s Birthday Gaslighting

I didn’t include his involvement with Tim’s Birthday Gaslighting because he was asked to do that and didn’t lie entirely of his own volition, and he also expresses a small degree of remorse once he’s caught. However it is insane enough to garner an honorable mention. You really dressed up in elaborate prosthetics and makeup in order to help gaslight the 16 year old ON his birthday by making him extremely paranoid about all of his friends for vague training reasons, and then have the gall to be like "oh my god thank goodness thats over!"

Alfred, you didn’t have to do that. You are literally always going against what Batman Bruce Wayne tells you to do. Literally all the time.

Robin #117 (1993)/Robin #120 (1993)

[aajjks]

Control (m)

synopsis. Who was really in control here?

pairing: yan!jk x fem!reader

warnings: yándèrè thèmès, 18+ cóntènt, côntróllíng jk, dègràdíng rèmárks, jèáloüsy, tóxíc bf jk.

note. meh this is too dry.,, my writing is so bad these days I’m gonna cry... this is not edited or proofread bcz I’m obviously not having the best day😭😭😭 lmk what u think... ENJOY! [GIFS NOT MINE, CREDITS TO OWNER]

Control is very important. It gives you such an addicting sense of power that it’s hard to let go of old hidden habits.

Jungkook pissed the hell out of you. He was absolutely useless and good for nothing.

He was only good at one thing and that was making you feel in charge, in control. You were a control freak and he wanted to be controlled. Your relationship was far from normal, healthy. But at least you actually bothered to acknowledge that. Jungkook was a freak.

A good for nothing obsessive desperate freak. You hated him more than anything in this world but yet... he was fun in a twisted way of his own.

You felt incredibly bored, all alone in this huge house, tired of watching tv and you had already painted your nails. You had been on your phone for hours. Where the fuck was even jungkook. He never once left you alone in the past year. Frustration was building up and your anger was rising. Damn that asshole.

Picking up your phone once again, you rolled your eyes, opening Instagram but Your Instagram feed was also showing repeated pics. “Fucking hell!” Cursing out loud, you threw your expensive phone on the bed.

There was also nothing left to do in the house. Jungkook did everything for you. He treated you like a royalty. He was pitiful, he was nothing more than a lovesick little puppy, for you. And you were a bitch that was ready to bite him any day, second.

But what was fun that he wanted to be bitten, in such a way that he’d be left whimpering, bloody and wanting for more.

And maybe that was the reason behind your stay with him despite his obsessive behaviour. He left you wanting more in some way. He knew so well how to feed your inner sadist but yet so damn hungry for more.

“Y-Y/N!! I’m back!” His deep voice ranged through the room as the sound of his footsteps touched your ears. Rolling your eyes, you stretched your body, sitting up on the bed as you threw an icy glare in his direction. “Where the fuck were you?” You spat at him and he just returned you a a lovesick smile, his eyes shiny with dark emotions.

“You sound so hot..” he clicked his tongue, as he licked his lips, his feet taking him towards you. As he came closer the shopping bags in his hands caught your attention. “What are those?” Ignoring his comment you asked him a new question.

He smiled in return, his cheeks were tightening from his hard he was smiling, his doe eyes were crinkled, his pink lips stretched in a tight smile. You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh these are for you, princess!” Jungkook sounded excited as he threw the bags on the bed, climbing on the bed, he grabbed your body and pulled it closer to his, leaning down towards your lap he laid his head down on it.

You weren’t surprised at his action.

“What do you want, Jungkook?” Suspicious, you couldn’t help but ask. You had a strong feeling that he wasn’t just being generous.

It was jeon jungkook after all.

“You.” He sighed deeply in your lap, his hands tightening. “I want you, Y/N.” Nuzzling his head between your legs, he took a sniff.

“You smell you heavenly...” he cuddled closer, “I’ve been so good to you... I’ve been patient and less clingy.. I even bought so many gifts for you...” he trailed off, his finger tracing patterns on your leg.

You knew where this was leading. Smirking, you swiped your tongue across your lips. “Don’t you think I deserve a reward for being such s good boy?” His tone was careful.

Oh, he wanted a reaction out of you.

“Fuck off jungkook, no you’re good for nothing. You’ll have to earn it. Are you willing to?” Oh, you loved playing with him. He was a temptation for you. And you were always tempted to give into him.

Jungkook let out a sound of satisfaction at that. “You’re getting all riled up by cursing at me. Do it more. Fuck... do it.” He breathed, sounding completely out of breath. “I can do anything to earn it.....” Jungkook finally bothered to look up at you.

Your gazes immediately locked with each other, his hair was falling in his face, his dark curly hair made him look so much more hotter than he was, but you would never admit that out loud.

“Don’t you already know that? I can go to any lengths for you, but I think, I’ve already proved that many times, right baby?” Jungkook gently grabbed your face in his large hands, “Don’t test me.”

He squeezed your face, leaning in closer that his minty breath mixed with a hint of smokey scent hit your face. “You never know who’s really in control here, princess.”

Your eyes widened at his words. He left you absolutely breathless. And his next words completely knocked the air out of you.

“Now, be a good girl and please me like I make you.”

[naturesapphic]

hi can I request something with Billie with a reader who is like maybe 2 or 3 years older than her and Billie gets teased about it by her friends all the time and they like call her the baby of the relationship and stuff and maybe reader is in on the joke too so Billie snaps and shows reader who’s in charge??

I absolutely love your stories btw plss never stop writing for Billie 🤞🏻

Older

Billie eilish x fem!reader

Warning: playful teasing, mad!billie, smut

Word count: 1,019

“Get the fuck Inside and go up to the bedroom.” Billie snaps at you and you quickly nod as you run up the stairs, your face bright red from embarrassment. You and Billie were at a party with a mix of y’all’s friends together and things took a turn when you decided to do something stupid.

~ flashback ~

Billie and you were at a friends party just chilling with y’all’s friends when they started playfully teasing Billie on y’all’s small age gap. You were three years older than Billie and it never really bothered yall, especially not Billie. Y’all’s friends loved to tease the two of you but it was always light hearted and fun. On this particular night though, she was getting a bit upset at how far they were taking it, clearly drunk off their calls and not realizing what they were doing.

“Billie is clearly the baby in this relationship.” Quen said and you giggled. “Oh yeah she is.” You said smirking but laughing afterwards to show everyone that you were clearly playing around but billie didn’t see it like that of course and she was fuming inside. They kept going on and you would butt in and basically keep calling her the baby and one time someone called her a bottom and you didn’t object.

That’s when she grabbed your arm and pulled you away from everyone, anger flared in her eyes. Before she took you off she said goodbye to everyone and said that they were leaving early since you didn’t feel good. They all wished you well and said bye while Billie dragged you outside by your arm. You knew you were about to get fucked and that’s not taking it lightly.

~ flashback over ~

After going up the stairs you went into the bedroom and started stripping immediately. You got your clothes off and sat on the edge of the bed waiting for her. Billie came through the door a few minutes later and shot you a glare that made you feel small. “So you think you could just embarrass me in front of our friends?” She spat out as she walked over to you and grabbed your face in her hands, making you look up at you. “I-im sorry b-bils. I-it was a-all jokes p-promise!” You pleaded and she made your stop talking by squeezing your face together so your lips are puckered.

“I don’t want to hear any excuses right now. I think you need a reminder of who’s in charge hm?” Billie said lowly as she removes her hand from your face and backs up a little as she starts to unbuckle her belt. Watching her pull down her pants and take off her shirt always got you so hot and bothered. The way her arm flexes and the veins in her hands show, it gets you going. She grabs her belt and grabs your hands, tying them together. “Turn over and lay on your stomach.” She demanded and you quickly obeyed her. Laying on your stomach, your bare ass on display, billie ran her hands up and down the back of your thighs, causing your whole body to have chills.

She smirks and glides her hands up to your plump flesh and starts massaging it. You bit your lip and looked over her shoulder to see her and she slaps your ass harshly, making you yelp out. “Turn your head back.” She said lowly and you quickly buried your face in the mattress. Billie massaged them a bit more until she lands a forceful slap that left a red mark on your ass. “I want you to start counting.” She demanded and each slap you counted. In total there was about fifteen, which was letting you off easily. You whimpered out as she started kneading your red flesh making her smile. “You put this on yourself doll. Shouldn’t have made me look stupid.” She said with a fake softness in her voice.

Her hands went down your ass and spread your legs open, revealing to her your dripping cunt. She smirked to yourself and started rubbing your clit making your body jolt. Billie entered her index finger in your pussy and started pumping in and out fast causing you to let out a whimper. She then added two more fingers which made you gasp loudly. “F-fuck billie!” You yell out as she pumps her three fingers into your pussy at a fast pace. “Who’s in charge baby?” She asked you with gritted teeth as she used her other hand to pull on your hair, making your head lift a little so you could properly speak.

“Y-you b-Billie you are!” You exclaim as she keeps fucking you. “Good girl.” She says letting go of your hair and your head falls back onto the mattress as she fucks you into oblivion with her fingers. Soon enough she felt your walls squeezing her fingers and the way you were moaning into the mattress that you would be cumming soon and she was right. You came all over her hand and fingers, your cum leaking out of your pussy as she slowly pulls out. She pulls her fingers to her lips and sucks them dry. Billie then leans down and spreads your ass, slurping your juices from behind. You let out a strangled gasp and you feel her tongue lap at your pussy. She cleaned you up and pulled her face away, licking her lips. She flipped you back over on your back and smiled down at you. “Know who’s in charge now?” She said teasingly and you nodded your head fast. You definitely learned your lesson.

A/n: thank you so much anon for your kind words and the request! I hope you enjoyed it and that everyone else did too. Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! Take care of yourselves! I love y’all :)

[detectivestucks]

Brat Taming

18+ Content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Kakashi x F!Reader

Summery: Modern AU Kakashi is your arrogant and creepy step brother. One night while your parents are out of town you come home from a night of partying only to find Kakashi in your room, ready to make you pay for all your cheeky comments

Warnings: NSFW, NONCON, Stepcest, Toxic Kakashi, brat taming, oral, fingering, unprotected penetration, choking, anal play, facial, hair pulling, harsh spanking, under age drinking.

Word Count: 4.6k

Anon Ask

When your mom married Sakumo three years ago you thought your Clueless fantasy was about to come true. Your new step brother, Kakashi, was stupid hot. He was blessed with a gorgeous angular face, deep brown eyes, thick silky silver hair and a mouthwatering scar over his left eye. He loved to walk around the house either in fitted muscle tanks or shirtless with only loose gray sweats, showing off his chiseled frame. On top of that he had big masculine hands with perfectly manicured fingers that you would daydream about grazing your most sensitive areas. He was going to be your Josh and you were Cher waiting for him to fall madly in love with you. 

Only it turned out he was a complete and total ass.

Soon after your parents got together he had been accepted to Harvard and loved to lord over everyone what a genius he is. You quickly grew a distaste for the prick and got cheeky whenever he felt the need to remind you of his superiority. 

Currently you are a freshman in college starting your second semester at UMass. You chose to live at home to keep your mom company since you didn’t like the idea of living in a tiny dorm room with some random roommate you didn’t know. Kakashi on the other hand, just got kicked out of the dorms last semester and was finishing his Junior year at home with you and your parents. 

It turns out you were not the only person he liked to mouth off to. He got into several arguments with many of his dorm mates and the RA. Eventually he was banned from on-campus housing and now you were left to suffer through daily interactions with the world's most annoying step brother. 

Always his insufferable self, recently Kakashi has been extra creepy. He seems to have forgotten what a shirt is and rarely had one on his back. Sometimes you thought you caught him palming himself out of the corner of your eye and you would catch him staring at you when you get ready to go out with your friends. Most annoyingly, sometimes he’d hang out in your bedroom when you were trying to get ready for bed.

“Can I help you?”

“Just making sure you’re not so brain dead that you forgot how to put on pants. I know it can be hard for some people.”

“Oh is that so? Cause I was just making sure you didn't forget how to shut your mouth. I know it can be hard for some people.”

“Careful, now. You should really mind who you’re speaking to that way.”

“Sorry, I don’t take kindly to creeps who think I’m too stupid to put on pants. Is that why they kicked you out? Cause you were trying to show girls how to put on their pants?”

Kakashi furiously charged up to you and got right in your face. You were scared but you weren’t gonna show him that. Instead you glare at him. 

“Watch it kid or you’ll find yourself in a world of trouble.”

“Threats don’t work with me big bro. Try again some other time.”

Angry, he left the room. Closing his door with a snap. 

It had been like this for weeks. His unwelcome presence always looming around. You hated the way he looked at you. It was like he was hunting for a reason to tear you down. Whether it was your degree, your ‘public university’ education, or your slutty outfit choices. The guy needed a life. Most of the time you’d quip back but sometimes you just didn’t have the energy and instead roll your eyes. Tonight was one of those nights. Sakumo and your mom were out of town on a romantic getaway so you were going out while Kakashi tried to lord over you as the ‘man of the house.’

“Ah you going to see your boy toy? You know you’re never going to get a respectable man dressed like that.”

“I’m not going to see any boy toy, I’m going out with my friends.”

You see him give a smug smirk at your answer

“Besides, it’s not up to you if I’m looking for a respectable man or not. Maybe I’m not looking for one at all.”

“So just looking to be a little whore. I see how it is.”

You glare at him before rolling your eyes.

“I’m out. See you later, loser.”

You catch Kakashi’s face paint in fury as you leave. He hated how you constantly try to undermine him. He hated that you were such a brat. And he truly hated how no one ever put you in your place. 

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

You loudly came home at 2am from partying with your friends. You were a little inebriated and stumbled to the kitchen to get water before heading upstairs to bed. You make your way up the stairs, tripping over your high heels. You get to your bedroom and when you turn on the light you see Kakashi already laying in your bed. 

“Seriously, what’s your problem?”

“I have no problem. I’m not the one getting home at 2 am after a night of underage drinking.”

You were hit with a wave of sobriety at his words. If he told your mom, you’d be screwed. Seeing your expression, he knew he had you cornered. Kakashi stands up and walks past you as if he’s leaving the room, putting himself between you and the door before changing his mind and closing it.

“Remember when I said you should watch it?” 

He turns to you, taking a step forward. You begin to stumble backwards towards the bed.

“You’re such a filthy brat” he spits.

You continue to stumble backwards, your heels slipping off your feet. 

“And there's nothing I love more than putting a brat in her place.”

Your eyes widen in fear as you see a dark smile stretch across his face. Calves hitting the bed, you fall down to the floor and Kakashi weaves his strong hands into your hair, pulling it back so you’re forced to stare up at him. Your mind hazy, you begin to realize exactly how he imagines putting you in your place and it causes you to tremble. 

He tugs down his sweatpants and pulls out his length. Its weight slaps you in the face with a heavy thud. You flinch in his grasp but his fingers tighten in your locks as he begins beating you with his manhood.

“Drunk little girls like you don’t deserve to brush their teeth with a toothbrush. They only get to brush their teeth with cock. Now open that brat mouth for me.”

“No!”

Kakashi spits on your face. “I said open”

In your outrage you open your mouth about to hurl an insult at him when he shoved himself between your lips and pushed your head all the way down to his stomach. You were gagging and retching around him. You pushed against his thighs with all your might but your pathetic drunken arms were no match for his robust muscular physique. 

“That’s it. Choke on my cock you twerp.”

He groaned as he feels you constrict around his tip in an attempt to swallow air. Your eyes were tearing up from oxygen deprivation and your entire body was rigid in your struggle. He roughly pulls you up and down on him, pummeling your throat with a manhood much too large for your mouth. You feel your jaw lock as you open wide, tears falling freely from your eyes. 

He pulls you off of him and slaps your drool and tear drenched face. 

“Look at you. Just a little slut swallowing me so good. It seems college has at least taught you how to swallow dick so I guess your tuition has been put to good use.”

Your chest is heaving as you gulp down fresh air, seeing two of him with inebriated eyes while the pain of your hair being pulled registers in your hazy mind. 

“Again.”

He plummets into your mouth once more, fucking your face while you choke. Drool dribbling past your lips and down the front of your dress. He threatens you,

“Don’t even think about running to mommy. I’ll tell her all about how drunk you were and how you came onto me and you’ll be grounded and not allowed to see your little friends for the rest of the semester. Got it?”

He shakes your head with the hand grasping your hair. You whine ‘yes’ with a full mouth as you cry out from the pain. He retreats from your throat and you cough while he shoves you face down on your bed. He bends you over its edge, ass facing him. You desperately bring your hands to the back of your head, trying to pull off the hand tangled in your hair. He pushes you down into the mattress with force majeure and you sob from your dishonorable predicament.

“Resisting is futile little sis. This is what happens to brats who don’t know their place.”

He pulls up the skirt of your mini dress and yanks down your strappy thong. 

“Who are you wearing this slutty underwear for, huh? I thought you weren’t going to meet up with any boys” you hear a hum of amusement from his chest. “Did you wear this for me?”

“Fuck off” you choke.

“Ah, you see? You shouldn’t have said that.” He spreads your legs and brings his hand up to forcefully slap your sex. You yelp and flinch. 

“This is the very attitude I was talking about sis.” He slaps you again, this time harder.

“Someone’s gotta beat this out of you.” He slaps you again, this time with significant strength. 

Kakashi catches some arousal dripping out of you when he removes his hand from your folds. He lets out a chuckle. “Seems like you’re enjoying this.” 

His words burn you with embarrassment and reignite your struggles till he plunges his fingers inside of your gummy cunt. You gasp at his uninvited intrusion. He feels around, stroking in and out, coating his knuckles in your secretions. As he toys with you he hits your sweet spot and an involuntary groan spills past your lips. 

“Oh, you like that, huh?”

You shake your head ‘no’ but when he does it again you moan once more, walls tightening around his fingers. He pulls out of you and spanks your cheek causing you to cry. 

“You’re not supposed to enjoy it brat.” he snarls before sinking his fingers into you again. 

He maliciously milks your sweet spot, driving you to a crazed state. You struggle to refrain from moaning but if you fail and a cry slips past your lips be brings a heavy palm down on your rear with so much force that the red handprints quickly turn purple. He repeats the torturous process till you are thrashing in his grasp and he has to pull you up by your hair to pin you down on the bed with his body weight on top of you to stop your struggle. 

Kneeling on either side of your arms, weight on your chest, he can see the mascara run down your cheeks. He swells with pride seeing you made messy by his hands. He shoves himself back into your mouth. You kick and try to push him off of you but he has no patience for your misbehavior. He reaches behind himself and gives you a slap between your legs. 

Your resulting squeal vibrates along his shaft. A pleasured growl rumbles from his chest so he continues to reach around, beating against your cunt while he thrusts in and out of your mouth. 

Your fingers begin to dig into him, scratching up his legs as you desperately try to get him off of you. He rips himself from your mouth and grabs you by your wrists.

“You wanna play rough, sis? I can give you rough.”

He gives you a shit eating grin as he leans all his weight on your restrained wrists and uses his knees to spread your legs. You feel the heat of his length rub against your folds as he gets his body into position. You quickly realize you’re losing the war and he’s going to get exactly wants. You squirm and wiggle your hips trying to stop him from sinking in. In his frustration he pulls down the top of your dress and slaps your tit. You feel the sting as your arm goes to his chest but he quickly recaptures your wrist.

“Stop moving” he warns

“Fuck you loser!”

“Gladly”

The most sickening smile splits his face as he sinks himself deep into you. A loud groan is pushed out of you as he shoves your organs out of the way with his fat cock. 

“Wanna say that again?” he croons in your ear

You look up at him with doe eyes, not ready for how he is about to tear you apart and shake your head ‘no’

“That’s what I thought.”

He glides into you slow and deep, making sure you feel every vein as he violates you. He loves watching your eyes go wide every time he bottoms out, pausing to feel the full effect of him stuffing you. You whimper and groan stretched more than you thought possible, helplessly trapped. There was no running, no way out. You were alone and defenseless.

Nevertheless you struggle under his weight, trying to free your wrists. Annoyed by your incessant struggle he decides to bring them above your head and pin them together, freeing up his hand so he can grab your nipple, squeezing it between his index finger and thumb. You squirm as he applies pressure. 

“Keep resisting and see what happens” Kakashi threatens as he pulls up with your bud trapped in his pinch. You draw breath through your teeth, the pain consuming your thoughts. Not even registering that he hasn’t stopped rutting into you the entire time. 

“Gahh!”

“Understand?” You’re so focused on the pain in your nipple that all you do is whimper. “Answer me!” he barks with a twist of your nub

“Nggh! Fine!” Your eyes are screwed shut. You begin to open them when he releases your captive bud but you flinch when he slaps your tit again. 

He grabs your face, smushing your cheeks together. 

“See, I knew you could follow directions. That’s a smart girl”

You loathed him but you couldn’t help how your walls were restricting around him. His size massaged your sweet slit in such a gratifying way. Your body completely betrayed your mind. It seemed completely out of touch with the gravity of your situation. He left you breathless, your lungs forgetting how to breathe, as he pummeled into you. 

Anger on your mind, you watched him as he watched you. You pan over his stinging brown eyes, his angular features, and the mole that sits just below his drool inducing lips. He was hot and you hate him all the more for it. 

Disgust written on your mug as he studies you, anxiously waiting to watch you break. He picks up a little speed and you groan into it. You immediately regret the noise when you see a smug simper stretch on his face. You try to give him a glare but he hits you with a particularly sharp thrust and your face betrays you as your mouth falls open and your profile softens from pleasure. 

“I knew you were just a weak little slut.”

“Shut up.”

He slaps your face. “Wanna try that again?”

You attempt another glare at him but he thrusts up into you in a way that hits a sweet spot and you mewl for him.

“Ah! Thank you, ah.”

His chuckle makes your stomach twist as you realize what you said. 

“Ahh, she has manners.” condescension thick. You truly hate him.

He continues to thrust against the same spot making you pant under him. You cry pleasured screams from the sensation. He kept going, enjoying the view of you coming undone against your will. 

The sounds of your submission were getting a touch too loud. Trusting that you would behave, he strips off his shirt to reveal his well defined muscular frame beneath. He balls up the hem and shoves it in your mouth before returning a hand to your wrists, obediently still crossed together, waiting to be restrained again. 

You hated how good it felt. The recognition of him pleasuring you made you feel slimy on the inside, and desperate to get him off of you. He was your brother. Your arrogant asshole of a brother, yet he had you panting and crying beneath him. He was such a sick fuck. 

He gains speed. Beginning to bang the headboard into the wall. The sound thundering through the quiet night. Good thing the parents weren’t home to hear you cause he was beginning to lose his composure. He had been so careful to conceal his hunger but it was evident in his eyes that he was wild with lust. You sing into your gag, eyes beginning to roll back into your head. His unrelenting pace, his careful aim, and his grunts combined into a euphoric melody that had you spasming around him, calling his name through the gag. Your body stiffened as the orgasm tore through you.

“That’s a good brat. See how good it is to behave?”

You dumbly nod your head as the aftershocks course through your system. He strokes slowly allowing you to fall limp before he barks at you again.

“Get on your knees” he says, lifting his weight off of your wrists. He helps you flip over on your stomach and his hands pull up your hips so they are aligned with his pelvis. You attempt to support your weight on your arms when he pushes your head back down, roughly shoving you into the mattress. 

“Brats get fucked like whores. Lift your slut face off the sheets and there will be consequences..”

You cry out as you obey his command. He pushes in just the tip and you anxiously close around it before he pulls out again. You hate the way you whined from how empty you felt. He pushes in just a little deeper before retreating again, toying with you to prove his point. This time when he begins to line up his tip you rock your hips all the way back so he ‘s buried inside of you. You hadn’t anticipated how the angle would overstimulate you and you gasp about to pull away but his hands grab your hips and hold you steady. He begins to chuckle. 

“Such a twerp, complaining about something you did to yourself.”

You loathe yourself for how you sought him out just now. He was assaulting you and you were practically begging him to fill you. It was all a game to him and your pathetic response was exhilarating.

He  brings his hand down on your backside that was already bruised and purple from his earlier battery. You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, cries muffled by his shirt. He strikes you more. Every time you try to tuck your tail under to avoid the abuse he pushes down on your back. You were not running away from him. You were a mouse trapped in the maze. 

He begins to ram into you, the plush tissue of your behind rippling violently as his hips collide into you on repeat. Your fingers spread and grip onto your duvet for dear life as he bullies himself deep into you. 

You can’t handle the feeling. He’s too big! You lift yourself up trying to change the angle, trying to find relief, when his formidable hands sweep across your neck and choke you. He pulls you up just enough that your arms couldn’t reach the mattress and your entire body weight was supported by his grip on your neck. His hands sink into your trachea with every plummet into your slick cavern. 

You claw at his hands on your neck, trying to get under his fingers to lift the pressure from your windpipe so you could breathe. Your attempts were futile. Eventually your hands grip his wrists, giving up on being allowed to breathe.

“I told you not to lift your face. Here I thought you were learning your lesson.”

Seeing the gag start to fall out of your mouth, he lifts one hand off your neck to stuff it deeper before returning it to your throat. You spasm around him, tears spilling from your eyes, back involuntarily bowing, allowing him to push against your diaphragm. He knocked the wind out of you without allowing you to catch your breath. His cruelty leaves you putty in his hands, pliable and bending to his will. Gushing around his girth, broken and winded.

“Now you’re starting to get the picture.”

Pleasured cries permeate through the fabric in your mouth. He doesn’t plan on letting up any time soon either. He’s enjoying the view too much. Your glutes shake with each thrust while they’re spread wide open. He hones in on your puckered rear when he remembers what he found when he was snooping in your room. 

He pulls out of you and grabs you around the waist, pulling your back into his cut chest, possessively holding you so you can’t run away as he drags you across the bed where he can reach into your nightstand drawer. He pulls out your tiny black plug with a blue gem on the end. You look over and through your dazed state you realize what he grabbed and you start to protest. 

“No, no, no, no” you say through the cloth.

He shoves you down pulling your hips up once more and shoving your face back into the bed so your cries cannot be heard. His spit falls onto your rear, pooling over your sphincter where he pushes down on the tapered tip of your plug. You begin to wail.

“What’s all the fuss for? This is your’s, is it not? I thought whores liked having their holes stuffed.”

You tried pulling away but his grip on your hips tightened and he slammed back into you enjoying the friction of where the plug encroached on the space in your tunnel. 

You looked so beautiful with the blue gem protruding out of your dirty hole. He was definitely going to do this to you again. He was going to make you beg him for it once he was done putting you in your place. 

The thought of you coming to his room, plug in place, to get another taste of his fat cock made him ravenous. He rails into you using every drop of athleticism he has. You start to scream and go dizzy. His heavy balls slap into the bundle of nerves swelling between your legs. Eventually they swing into you with so much voracity that you twitch with each stroke of his hips. Your face began to melt into the mattress from his pounding and you are certain he will break your neck from the force. 

He flips you over, pushing your hips up so your knees are by your face, ass high in the air. He stands on the bed and sinks himself between your lips, thrusting down into you with all his might. Abdominals flexing with each thrust, passionate grunts bending you in half. The impossible positions shredding what was left of your once tight pussy. 

“Take it little slut.”

He can see the helpless tears leak from your eyes as you feel every inch of him being swallowed up by your soiled cunt. 

“Fuck Kakashi” you moan between labored breaths. 

He smirks. He had you just where he wanted you. He only needed to push you over the edge. He reached down and begins whirling circles around your clit. You shriek and knock your knees together. But his silky chuckle cuts your mind like a knife. The fucker was laughing at you. You squirm but your current position was so compromising you couldn’t move. He plays with you rubbing more vigorously. You scream and holler under him unfamiliar with such intensity as this.

“Ple-Pl-ease” you dumbly whine. 

“Please what, sis? You’ll need to speak up”

“M-may I c-cu-mm?”

He pounds into you without relenting. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that”

He was such an abhorrent ass but the heat in your lower belly was boiling over and you needed to release. You try to phish your voice from the back of your mind but it’s swimming and the way he drags along your ridges while swirling your sensitive bud has you desperate for him. 

“Gah! Please l’me cum!”

The glint in his eyes sickened you but you didn’t have the strength to care as he readjusted his stroke to pound into the sweet spot he found earlier. Your entire body convulsed under him as you had the most intense orgasm of your life. 

Kakashi, pleased with his successful session of taming you, feels his own gratification on its precipice.

He pulls out of your quaking cunt with a slap to your sensitive clit causing your hips to fall to the mattress with a cry. Your destroyed state was erotic. Helplessly shaking, sweat all over your body, dress bunched around your stomach, hair knotted and messy, ass still plugged and tears drenching your face. His fingers seek out your hair to hold you still while he paints your face white. 

“That’s a good girl. Take your reward.”

You tremble in his arms. When his seed can no longer shoot from his tip and simply oozes from his slit Kakashi presses himself against your lips. You part them slightly to give it a kiss leaving him to shutter from sensitivity. 

“Yes, very good”

He brushes your cheek with his thumb pad smearing his cum along your skin. You look up at him pathetically and he smiles down on you. 

“There we go sweet sister. That’s much better.”

You make a little whine that he finds so precious. 

“Go clean yourself up little one.” he pets your head before pulling on his sweatpants and tucking himself away. “I’m going to bed. Feel free to join me if you want.” 

He grabs his shirt, throwing it over his shoulder before lacing both hands together behind his head as he walks away. 

Your lip quivers as you entertain the idea, realizing you were hopelessly hooked.

Shakily you get up, pulling your dress off the rest of the way and walk naked to the bathroom. Kakashi glances over from his bed as he sees you through the crack in his bedroom door before exhaustion lulls him to sleep. 

He wakes up a half hour later to your weak-willed body slipping into his bed completely naked. He opens his arms, letting you settle into his chest before he closes them around you. You exhale with a small sigh and in your mind you know you would be yearning for the next time the two of you are home alone so he could tie you up and brutally defile you again. 

He plants a kiss on your forehead, mind flooded with gratification at finally breaking you down into such a needy state. 

He reaches down between your cheeks to see you kept your plug in tact. He gives it a small tug and you look up at him with a whine. He nuzzled your nose and whispers to you in his silky smooth voice before gently pressing a kiss on your lips. 

“Such a filthy brat”

Masterlist

[kbwrites]

JJK On The Road!

synopsis: how the jjk sorcerers are on a road trip—feat. Gojo, Geto, Shoko, Nanami, Haibara, Utahime

⚝a/n: I had to include baby boy Haibara.

⚝tags: headcanon, Nanami is an emo boy, Gojo is a danger to society.

They all decided to take a roadtrip after graduation… it goes a little something like this

Gojo insisted that he be the one to drive. You assumed that his six eyes would give him some kind of advantage on the road.

You were SO wrong.

Mans is a DEMON on the street. Swerving in and out of traffic, the car is either at 0 or full speed no in-between.

“Huh? Where’d that guy come from?”

“Satoru you literally cut him off-”

“The speed limit is 45”

“Yeah… but that’s more of a suggestion right??”

Of course it isn’t long before you hear the sirens closing in behind you.

“Lisence and registration please.”

“Of course Officer!”

…

“This is your high school ID”

“Oh! Well about that..”

It takes at least 5 years off your life when Satoru is behind the wheel. You somehow manage to arrive to the destination in one piece. Everyone curses him out for endangering their lives (and driving with no license)

“Okay but did you die though?”

Geto is in charge of the AUX (because last time Nanami made everyone cry)

Is the type to put on some chill oldies, and one Abba song (Because Satoru loves Abba).

Loves looking out the window and pointing out cool stuff, bums a cigarette off of Shoko to deal with the stress of Satoru's driving.

“Hey. look at that huge tree.”

The car swerves.

“Wait I don’t see anything!”

“Not you Satoru…”

Is obviously shotgun so he tries his best to stay awake, probably ends up reading a book he brought or reminding Satoru to actually pay attention to the rules of the road.

Shoko is already bored when the car starts, plays “I Spy” with Suguru for all of 3 minutes before falling asleep. After her nap she wakes up and starts taking pictures. Can make even the most mundane thing like riding in car look like an aesthetic Pinterest board. Sneaks pictures of Nanami when he isn’t looking.

“Everyone smile.”

“Wait hold on I want to be in the picture too!”

“Satoru you’re DRIVING.”

Ends up vlogging the trip, texting Utahime to confirm Satoru hasn’t killed them yet.

Nanami did NOT want to go on this trip AT ALL. He was basically forced by Gojo (then coerced by Haibara). He sulks and looking out the window and sighing.

“Nanami stop being Emo”

“I am NOT Emo..”

“Will you stop sulking if I play My Chemical Romance?”

“....”

Brings his DS or something, shows Haibara his animal crossing world. Actually freaks out when Satoru takes a ‘scenic detour’ which adds 3 hours to the trip.

Haibara is in charge of the snacks. And thank god for snacks. 

Brings one cooler for everyone else and one cooler just for Satoru cause that boy can EAT.

Feeds Nanami trail mix

Talks Nanami’s ear off about how excited he is to be done with school </3. Tries to impress Suguru and Satoru by listing off fun facts about each area they drive through.

“Did you know that this is actually the longest stretch of road in the country?”

“Wow. That’s really Something.”

“Did you know that the native flower of this region is the hibiscus?”

“Uh huh.”

“Did you know that AHHH”

 Satoru swerves the car again, everyone gets thrown around the car.

Utahime  refuses to ride in a car with Gojo driving, so she meets up with you guys in her own car.

[lukehughes43]

AM34 Auston Matthews x reader

word count: 1,400 a/n: quick little blurb and or drabble thing of auston becoming captain because how could I not? warnings: none I think. maybe some swearing

You had never seen Auston this nervous before. Normally, he was relaxed, easy going, and tried not to stress about things very often. Only now he was busy pacing a hole in the floor of your shared apartment. 

“Aus,” you called, “there’s nothing to worry about. Everyone’s going to love you as their captain.” His attention turned immediately to you. His brown eyes searching your e/c ones. “Plus the decision has already been made. Brad wants you as captain. Craig wants you as his captain. And, most importantly, John has signed off on the idea to hand the captaincy over to you.” Before he could protest, you crossed the room to stand in front of him. Gently you reached up to cup his cheek, a smile forming on your lips, “You deserve this, love. You’ve worked your life to get to this moment.” 

Reaching up, Auston grabbed on to your wrist. Thumb working small circles against the soft skin. “I know I deserve it, and there hasn’t been a thought in my mind about passing the opportunity over, but I just - can’t believe this is happening.” His confession tugged at your heart. He had put his blood, sweat, and tears into becoming a Toronto Maple Leaf. Played in their first round series sicker than a dog, and still walked away as the MVP despite the loss. 

“Well you better believe it soon, because we need to leave in an hour,” you remind with a kind smile. “Can’t keep everyone waiting for the star of the show today.” Balancing up on your tiptoes you pressed a sweet kiss against his cheek. “I’m going to finish getting ready, and you should too.” 

It wasn’t long before the pair of you were seated in the front seats of his blue Porsche. Brian and Ema smiling happily in the backseat. While you focused on carrying the load of conversation, Auston’s hand had nervously worked its way into yours resting in your lap. Without missing a beat in the conversation about preparing your classroom for the up and coming school year, you squeezed his hand. A subtle gesture to show him that you were aware of the mixed emotions rolling off his body. “I’m sure the kids are going to love hearing about Auston becoming captain this year,” Ema smiled with pride. 

Laughing you nodded your head, craning your body to face the backseat. “That will surely be the talk of the first few days,” you agreed. “Although, any chance they get Auston normally gets brought up. They always beg me to bring him in for show and tell.” The comment drew a laugh from Auston’s parents, and an eye roll from the man himself.  But even he couldn’t hide the smile that was growing on his face. 

“Has he ever come in for show and tell before?” Brian asked.

“Once,” Auston replied, eyes glancing at his fathers in the rearview mirror before turning into the parking lot. “Only it didn’t end up as happy as a day as all the little second graders thought it would.” 

Confusion painted Brian and Ema’s faces, allowing you the chance to fill them in on the rest of the story. “A couple of tears were shed because some kids thought their show and tells weren’t as ‘cool’ as mine.” Grimacing you glanced over at Auston who was still wearing his smile. 

“Well not everyone can bring a sixty plus goal scorer, can they?” He chimed, earning a smack on the shoulder from you. 

Rolling your eyes you glanced back at his parents, “Of course they were all really excited and happy Aus had come in, but some of them felt overshadowed. So from now on if he wants to come visit, it’s on days when we don’t have show and tell.” 

“Well talk about a lesson learned the hard way,” Ema laughed. Nodding your head you agreed with the woman, turning to glance around the half full parking lot. “Well, I suppose we should head in.” Taking charge as always, Ema Matthews headed out of the car, her husband following her lead. 

You stole a glance at Auston to see him already staring back at you with those big brown eyes. “You ready hot shot?” Teasing, you pulled your interlaced hands up to your lips to press a kiss against his skin. “Because the whole hockey world is ready for you.” 

A slight blush dusted over his cheeks as he stared at you, eyes darting between the diamond ring resting on your finger and your e/c eyes. “You know, I think you might have said that to me once before,” he recalled with a smile, “maybe like, eight years ago?” 

“God don’t say that,” you groaned with a smile, “you’re making us sound old.” 

“Well, we are kinda old, baby.” The both of you fell into a small fit of laughter, seemingly lost in memories from prior years. It was only when your beloved nickname fell from his lips like honey that you both silenced your laughing. “What if I can’t be the leader they’re expecting me to be? What if, even after all this we still can’t beat Boston in the playoffs? That I - we never win the Stanley Cup?” Your heart squeezed inside your chest as you stared back at him. Searching for the answers that he so desperately needed to hear, yet couldn’t place them. “What happens then? If I can’t be a Leaf for life.” 

Taking both of his hands in your own hands, you faced him fully. Knees pressed against the center console, likely pulling the nylon fabric covering them. “Auston,” you breathed, “I have never met someone so right for a position of leadership as you. I love John, with all my heart, you know that. But baby, in this business changes need to happen. Different voices need to be heard, and right now yours is the guiding voice of the Toronto Maple Leafs. And it has been since you scored four goals in your NHL debut.” The old memory of his debut tugged a smile to the corner of his lips, but you knew he wasn’t fully convinced of your vision. “You have brought life back to this team, to this fan base. You’ve given something they haven't had in a long time: hope.” 

“How does that translate to me becoming the twenty-sixth captain in franchise history?” His voice held emotions you couldn’t quite place. Sadness, fear, uncertainty. All things you knew Auston Matthews hardly felt. 

Smiling you squeezed his hands once more, “My love, that’s one of the things most important about being a leader - a captain. You have to give your teammates, the ownership, and the fans something to believe in. Something to have hope for. You’ve given them that, and so much more Aus. There’s a reason you didn’t think about passing the opportunity over. There’s a reason John was more than willing to hand the captaincy into your very capable hands.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Because you have been the voice of this team since your debut in twenty-sixteen,” you answered with nothing but certainty. “It was only a matter of time until this happened, this past season was the nail in the coffin.” Auston’s face contorted into disapproval while you laughed it off, “Sorry only reference I could think of baby. But it holds some truth to it. Losing to the Bruins in the first round, again, sucked. It fucking sucked. For everyone. You. Me. The team. But you pushed through so much to play in that series. You took control and put the team on your back more than once. Playing sick goes a long way, Aus. It showed everyone in that locker room that you’re here to win. You’re here to bring this franchise a Stanley Cup, and even if you’re on your deathbed you're willing to be the person that helps bring the team to glory.” 

Sighing Auston fell back against his seat. “Are you sure you aren’t saying all this because you’re my fiance?” His head lulled to the side to glance over at you with a soft smile. Leaning over the console you fixed the collar of his suit jacket, “No, I told you that you need to buy another suit because this one has been over worn because I’m your fiance.” Once the collar was laid flat against his body you looked to meet his gaze once more. “I told you all that because I’m someone who believes in you, Auston. Also someone who sees the greatness deep inside you.”  “I love you, you know that?” He asked, body leaning forward to meet you halfway. Smiling, you nodded, “I do know that.” Quickly you closed the distance between the two of you to press your lips against his. “Now come on, I want to see you with a ‘C’ on your chest, captain.”

[doctorbitchcrxft]

The Usual Suspects | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? )

Warnings: creepy police officer (not that that differs from real life), canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 3242

A/N: Ooh damn, this one was interesting to write. I tried the best I could to make this as coherent as possible. Y’all enjoy! Also, this'll be another creature-double-feature Saturday to make up for the short chapter! Love you, my darlings!

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“I don’t wanna have to keep asking this, kid. Who are you?” the man who’d been interrogating you asked. He was a member of the Baltimore police department: Peter Sheridan. He’d been a complete dick to you thus far after arresting you in the boys’ motel room with Sam. 

“I told you, Ann Wilson,” you replied. 

He chuckled humorlessly. “Listen, dollface—” he leaned across the table creepily, and you fought the urge to recoil under his predatory gaze, “—I’m done playing with you. You were found with Sam and Dean Winchester; one of which was supposed to be dead. They’ve got some pretty serious charges stacked up against them, and you, by proxy. Credit card fraud, breaking and entering, and this one… puzzled me. Grave desecration.

"But still, these are a long way from murder. Then, we get a fax from St. Louis. Where Dean’s suspected of torturing and murdering a young woman.” He got up from his chair and began pacing. “However, no one could prove anything, of course, because supposedly he died there. So now we know Karen Giles wasn't the first person he murdered. And what about Sam? He was pre-law before dropping out after the death of his girlfriend. He’s twenty three years old, no job, no home address. His mother died when he was a baby; his father's whereabouts are unknown. And then there's you.”

“Can you cut the monologuing, man? It’s really starting to get on my nerves,” you replied. You had been sitting back in your chair with your arms and legs crossed confidently the whole time he spoke despite the anxiety you had given your situation.

He slammed his hands down on the table; you didn’t even flinch. “Who the hell are you? And how are you connected to the Winchester brothers?”

You sucked in air through your teeth and relaxed back in your chair. “Seems you got nothin’ on me. You can’t really hold me if you can’t even pin down who I am.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I do have you on one thing— over a dozen possible matches when we ran your prints.”

You tsked, cutting your eyes at him challengingly. “Possible. You can’t hold me on possible.”

“But I can hold you for forty-eight hours under suspicion of accomplice to murder,” he responded. “So you might as well start talking.”

You scoffed, sitting back in your chair.

“Sweetheart—” you nearly punched him when he called you that name, “—Dean’s life is over. Sam’s probably is, too. Yours doesn’t have to be. If you tell me who you are— maybe a bit about your place in all this— maybe I can get you a deal with the DA. We can look into your history, check your record; see how well you clean up. How does that sound?”

You considered for a moment before talking, repeating the story you and the brothers had discussed before your arrests in case you got caught. You had one of these stories for every case you’d ever worked on with them. “Sam and Dean’s dad knew Tony Giles. They were old friends; in the service together and everything. So we showed up as soon as we heard about his passing.”

Obviously, none of that was true. You and the brothers had found a story about a man’s throat that had been slit in the papers and headed up to investigate. 

You continued your story. “Woulda been kinda hard for Dean to kill Tony, considering we weren't in town at the time. Anyway, that’s when we went to see Karen. She was… she wasn’t doin’ well. We just wanted to be there for her.”

Karen was Anthony Giles’s wife, and you’d gone to see her to get information. She said he’d told her there was a woman standing at the foot of their bed the night before he passed away, and she'd been bleeding from the neck.

“And that was it. End of story,” you said.

“No, it’s not,” Sheridan pressed. “We have an eyewitness who said they saw two men and a woman fitting your description breaking into Giles’s office.”

“Karen just wanted us to get some old photos, okay? Police weren’t letting her in. I know it was wrong to break in, but she gave us the key,” you lied flawlessly.

In actuality, that was where you’d found a stack of papers littered with “danashulps” written over and over again on the tray of the man’s printer. The poor guy’s throat had been slit so deep, part of his spinal cord had been severed. Your working theory was that a Dana Shulps had died with her throat slit, and now she was back to wreak havoc. However, you found no evidence of any person by that name. So, you were back to square one. 

“Dean went back to Karen’s place to check on her and bring her those pictures and stuff,” you explained.

“Hm, and why didn’t you or Sam go with him?” Sheridan responded.

“We just went back to the motel,” you shrugged. “How’d you know we were there, by the way?”

“Why would I tell you?” he snapped.

“Whoa, pump the hate brakes, Biff,” you remarked, “I was just asking a question.”

“Don’t get cute with me, dollface. Now, you were with both brothers the whole time you were in Baltimore. Why separate now? Because Dean left you. To go murder Karen.”

You tried to seem unfazed, but your jaw clenched in anger. “He didn’t kill anyone.”

He slammed his fists on the table. “I heard the 9-1-1 call! Karen was terrified. She said someone was in the house.”

“Well, whoever it was, it wasn’t Dean,” you said. You stared him down. “Let me ask you something, babe. Do you have a murder weapon? Do you have a motive?” 

He seemed to have no response.

“That’s what I thought. Come back to me when you have something interesting to say.”

He angrily stormed out of the room, and your lips twisted up into a satisfied smirk.

***

You sat alone in your room, repeating “Dana Shulps” to yourself on a loop. You suddenly got an idea. ‘Maybe it’s not a name.’ You reached across the table and pulled a pen and paper pad toward you. You wrote several combinations of anagrams as to what it could possibly be. The only plausible thing you came up with was “ASHLAND SUP.” ‘But what would the S-U-P be? Ashland… a city? A town? …A street?’

***

You listened carefully to the commotion going on beyond the wall of your room. There was no two-way mirror, and from what you could tell, no camera nearby. You listened as footsteps hurriedly crossed in front of your room heading to the left and then growing quieter. You gathered your courage and took that opportunity to make your escape. Quickly, you opened the window and climbed out onto the outside of the building. Looking down below, it was almost a four-story drop. However, you knew you could make your way to the fire escape a few window sills over if you were careful enough. 

You clung to the wall, nervously, careful not to look down or move too quickly when the wind picked up. Thankfully, you made it to the fire escape safely and headed down as fast as you could. You weren’t sure if Sam or Dean had escaped, but you decided to try the trick they taught you to find each other: searching for Jim Rockford in the guest list of the first motel that appeared in the yellowpages. Thankfully, when you did, you found a Jim Rockford. You quickly made your way over to said motel and broke into the room. Sam had his gun drawn on you when you opened it.

“(Y/N)! Don’t scare me like that!” he huffed, putting the gun down.

You grinned and ran over to him. He scooped you up in a hug.

“I’m so glad to see you,” you told him. “What are we gonna do about Dean?”

He sighed. “I don't know, honestly. He’ll figure something out. For now, let’s focus on this ghost, huh?”

“I’m guessing you figured out it was an anagram, too, right?” you asked.

“Duh,” he grinned. 

“How’d Dean give you the cue to escape?” You sat down at the table across from him. 

“Got our lawyer to give me a note. Called me Hilts on it,” he smirked back.

You laughed. “The Great Escape? Nice.”

“I gotta say, man, I’m worried,” Sam told you. 

“Why?” 

“I’m guessing they read you the charges,” he replied. 

You nodded.

The brunet sighed and ran a hand down his face. “This is bad, (Y/N/N)."

“Yeah, I know.” You stared down at the table in front of you and bit the inside of your cheek nervously. 

Sam huffed and tried to remain cheerful, changing the subject. “So, what are we thinkin’? Ashland’s a street, but what’s S-U-P?”

You shook your head. “I’m not sure. Initials, maybe?”

“Sounds like a good enough place to start to me,” Sam grinned.

The two of you began pouring through online resources to see if anyone had died ugly on Ashland Street.

“Dude, how’d you get all these files, by the way?” you asked Sam, referencing the many manila folders and photos laid neatly on the table between yours and Sam’s laptops. 

Suddenly, a knock was heard on the door. You looked through the peephole to see a frightened woman in her mid-forties, and you opened it to her. 

“Wait, (Y/N)—” Sam stood upon seeing her, and you put two and two together that she was probably a cop at Sam's end of the case. The woman shrugged and entered the room. She showed Sam her wrists which were lined with a ring of bruises. She explained to you that she had seen the same ghost Karen described seeing and that she saw “DANASHULPS” appear on the mirror in the bathroom at the same time the lesions appeared around her wrists. 

“These showed up after you saw it?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” the woman responded. “You know, I must be losing my mind. You're a fugitive. So is she.” She gestured to you. “I should be arresting you.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” you questioned pointedly.

“Diana Ballard, Baltimore P.D.,” she said. “And… what was your name?”

You snickered. “You’re not getting that out of me that easily. Hey, do me a favor, look through these for us.”

“Why would I do that?” She suddenly seemed to register what she was looking at. “How'd you get those? Those are from crime scenes, and booking photos.”

Sam chuckled. “You have your job, we have ours. Tell me if you recognize anyone.”

She flipped through the stack and stopped on the photo of a drugged-out-looking blonde woman. She stopped on it and held it up. “This is her. I'm sure of it.”

“Claire Becker,” you nodded. “Twenty-eight; disappeared about nine months ago.”

“But I don't even know her. I mean, why would she come after me?” Diana asked.

“Well, before her death, she was arrested twice. For dealing heroin. You ever work narcotics?” Sam replied.

“Yeah, Pete and I did. Before homicide,” the detective answered.

“You ever bust her?”

“Not that I remember.”

“It says she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street. Police searched the place and didn’t find anything. Guess we gotta check it out ourselves,” you added.

“Why would we do that?” Diana asked.

“See if we can find her body,” Sam explained. “We gotta salt and burn her bones. It's the only way to put her spirit to rest.”

Diana rolled her eyes. “Of course it is.”

***

Turns out, poor Claire’s body had been hidden right where the moon shone through the window of 2911 Ashland Street labeled “Ashland Sup.”

Diana noticed the necklace on the corpse and touched it cautiously.

“That mean something to you?” Sam asked.

You could see she was beginning to get angry. “I've seen it before. It's rare. It was custom made over on Carson street.” She pulled out the necklace from her shirt and showed it to you and Sam. “I have one just like it. Pete gave it to me.”

“That son of a bitch,” you murmured. 

“Now it all makes perfect sense,” Sam began.

“I'm sorry?” Diana scoffed.

He nodded, explaining, “Yeah. You see, Claire is not a vengeful spirit, she's a death omen.”

“Claire's not killing anyone,” you chimed in. “She's trying to warn them. You see, sometimes spirits, they don't want vengeance, they want justice. Which is why she led us here in the first place. She wants us to know who her killer is.” You turned to Diana. “Detective, how much do you know about your partner?”

She thought for a moment before breathing out, “Oh my god. About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously it was a cop. We never found out who did it. But whoever did it would need someone to fence their product.”

Sam huffed. “Someone like a heroin dealer. Somebody like Claire.”

“C’mon, we gotta find him before he kills somebody else,” you said.

*** Claire drove you and Sam on the route to the police station to confront Sheridan. She snapped her phone shut and huffed in annoyance.

“What?” you asked.

“Pete just left the precinct. With Dean,” she replied.

“What?!” you and Sam stiffened in your seats.

“He said the prisoner had to be transferred, and he just took him. Dispatch has been calling but he won't answer the radio,” she said.

“Radio? He took a county vehicle?” Sam questioned. 

She nodded. 

“Well, then they should have a lo-jack, you've just gotta get it turned on,” he noted. 

Somehow, Sam managed to track down the vehicle Sheridan had taken. You arrived just in time to see him aiming a gun at Dean who was kneeling on the ground behind the van.

“Wait! Wait,” Dean pleaded. “Let's, let's talk about this. I mean, you don't want to do something that you're gonna regret later.” His voice became louder as you got closer.

You drew Diana’s gun from her holster and aimed it at Sheridan. “Drop the gun!”

Sheridan turned his gun on you. “You!”

You cocked the gun. “Me,” you smirked.

Sheridan suddenly seemed to notice his partner. “Diana? How'd you find me?”

“I know about Claire,” she said evenly.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Put the fucking gun down!” you ordered.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Sheridan scowled. “You're fast. I'm pretty sure I'm faster.”

“Why are you doing this?” Diana interrogated.

“I didn't do anything, Diana,” he said. “It wasn't my fault. Claire was trying to turn me in, I had no choice.”

“And Tony? Karen?” Diana pressed.

“Same thing! Tony scrubbed the money, he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I'm sure he told Karen everything. It was a mess; I had to clean it up. I just panicked.” Sheridan’s sorry attempt at emotionally relaying his story was enough to induce an eye roll from you.

“How many more people are gonna die over this, Pete?” Diana asked dejectedly. 

“There's a way out. This Dean kid's a friggin' gift. We could pin the whole thing on him. Right? No trial, nothing. Just one more dead scumbag,” Sheridan chuckled coldly.

“Hey!” you barked. 

“No one will question it. Diana, please. I still love you,” he told her, faltering slightly as he looked at his partner. Dean rolled out of the way, and you took the opportunity to fire and hit Sheridan in the stomach. 

Diana didn’t even flinch at you shooting Sheridan. “Then why don't you buy me another necklace, you ass?”

You kept the gun trained on Sheridan as you rushed to Dean’s side, crouching in front of his slumped-over form protectively. You tried to get a lock on Sheridan, but he and Diana were fighting too erratically for you to be able to get a clear shot. At some point, Sheridan lost his gun, and Sam went to go for it.

Pete grabbed it before Sam could, shouting, “Don’t do it! Don’t do it.” He rose from the ground and kept the gun trained on Sam as he backed away.

You stared past Sheridan to see Claire having appeared behind him, grinning ear to ear. You tossed Diana her gun as Sheridan turned around, and she shot her former partner in the back. He fell to the ground, much more permanently this time.

You turned your focus to Dean. You got the keys to his handcuffs from Diana and helped him out of them.

“Thanks,” Dean smiled.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” you asked, putting your hands on either side of his face and looking him over.

He grabbed your wrist gently. “Relax, sweetheart, I’m fine.”

You nodded before throwing yourself into his arms. He hesitated in what you assumed was surprise but hugged you back tightly. You let go of him as the morning sun began to hit your eyes. You looked over to Diana who was crouched over the body of her ex-partner.

“You doin' alright?” Sam asked her.

She shook her head. “Not really.” She swallowed, her breath coming out unevenly despite the fact that she tried to hold her composure. “The death omen, Claire— what happens to her now?”

The brunet shrugged. “Should be over. She should be at rest.”

Dean brushed his hands off on his jeans as he stood next to his brother. “So, uh. What now, officer?”

“Pete did confess to me. He screwed up both your cases royally. I'd say that there's a good chance that we could get your cases dismissed,” she replied.

“You’d take care of that for us?” Sam questioned.

“I hope so,” Diana said. “But the St. Louis murder charges? That's another story. I can't help you. Unless—” your and the boys’ heads perked up at her slight change in tone, “I just happened to turn my back, and you walked away. I could just tell them that the suspects escaped.”

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, are you sure?”

Dean pointedly looked at his brother. “Yeah, she's sure, Sam.”

Sam shook his head. “No, it's just, I mean, you could lose your job over something like that.”

“Look, I just want you guys out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I'll sleep better at night.” She turned to go. “Listen, you need to watch your back. They're gonna be looking for all of you right now. Get out of here. I gotta radio this in.”

“Hey, uh, you wouldn't happen to know where my car is, by chance?” Dean asked her.

“It's at the impound yard down on Robertson.” She noticed Dean’s calculating look. “Don't... even think about it.”

“It's okay, it's alright, don't worry,” Sam chuckled. “We'll, uh, we'll just improvise. I mean, we're pretty good at that.”

Diana nodded. “Yeah. I've noticed.”

You and the brothers began to walk down the road. 

“Nice lady,” Sam commented.

“Yeah, for a cop. Did she look familiar to you?” Dean turned to you.

“Yeah, actually. I don’t know where from, though,” you answered.

“Yeah, me neither. Anyway, you guys hungry?”

You nodded, but Sam shook his head.

“For some reason, I could really go for some pea soup,” Dean said.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[redstarwriting]

bestie | hobie’s version

black cat!fem! reader becoming besties with Hobie

request?: yes LMAO

request: continuation of my original fic “bestie”

requested by: literally everyone omg

word count: 2.8k

genre: platonic and chaotic

warnings:  language, stealing, monarchy slander, mentions of homelessness, knives, a sword

a/n: ok y’all, i thought of a way to continue this post as a series. maybe i’ll make a ‘bestie’ masterlist? 

───────────────────────────────────

The friendship between you and Hobie formed fast. So fast. Faster than Miguel expected, even. You and Hobie literally became best friends immediately. He fucked with your attitude, which you knew already, but when he learned what you do? Best friends. “So, let me get this right, mate, you’re a global superstar—”

“Yep.”

“But you steal from the rich—”

“Mhm.”

“And you give to the poor—”

“Right.”

“Like some kinda famous Robin Hood?”

“Precisely,” you nod and he raises an eyebrow at you. The two of you are chilling in your penthouse apartment in a building that you own. He’s mindlessly strumming on his guitar, looking out at Nueva York from your balcony/rooftop, and questioning you. He thinks you’re cool, but he can’t help but be weary of sitting in such an expensive place. “Love the sentiment, really do, but ain’t bein’ a superstar… counteractive to all ‘at?” you shrug. “The majority of my money goes back to charities. I keep some of it, obviously, but I prefer giving back.” You lean back against a chair. “Besides. I grew up with nothing and basically no one. Feels kinda nice having a place like this.” “I guess, but donthca think buyin’ the ‘ole buildin’ was a bit overkill?” “No, actually. I pay for everything in this building and let homeless kids and teens in need, like me at that age, live in the rest of it free of charge,” you explain, taking a sip of your water. He stops strumming his guitar. “‘Scuse me?” you look over at him to see him staring at you with a look of disbelief in his eyes. You chuckle. “Don’t look so shocked. I like giving back, that’s the least I could do. Besides, I have a soft spot for kids being on the streets like that. No child deserves to suffer like that,” you explain and he shakes his head. As someone who was homeless as a child and well into his teenage years, hearing you say that actually makes him respect you loads more. “You should talk to some of the rich assholes in my world. Talk some sense into ‘em,” he mumbles, and you shake your head. “Rich people are inherently assholes.”

“You’re rich.”

“And I’m inherently an asshole. Self-awareness is key, Hobart,” you say and he rolls his eyes. “Not like ‘em assholes, though. They parade ‘round their wealth, pretendin’ the citizens in the city ain’t dyin’, starvin’… always stickin’ the pigs on us like we ain’t worth nothin’,” he mumbles, and you frown. “They’re lucky they have someone like you to stand up to them,” you say, and he nods. “Bloody right. ’s what I do. But there’s always a new person who gets in the way after I take down the first one,” he sighs, beginning to pick at the strings of his guitar again. You hum in agreeance. “Heard you bashed Norman Osborn’s head in with that guitar.”

“I did. It was bloody brilliant. But ‘en, after ‘im, these new Nazis showed up. Don’t even get me started on the new fuckin’ PM now,” he groans, and you shake your head. “Governments are ass. And I come from a non-monarchy. Can’t even imagine what yours is like,” you mumble and he frowns. “After I got rid of Norman, the new Prime Minister stepped in. Got rid a’ one evil and gave another one a open invitation.”

“At least you got rid of one of them. You’ll get the other one in time.”

“As much as I want ‘at to be true, I got the crown to worry ‘bout. Spewin’ all their rubbish to everyone, distractin’ ‘em all from the real issues goin’ on with their fancy jewels and blood money,” he stopped playing again, using his hands to show his disgust to you. “Jewels, you say? Money?” you smirk, and he rolls his eyes. “Is ‘at all ya got from ‘at, ya bloody klepto,” he asks, and you shrug. “Not all. Large portion. What do you say we fuck with them?” you suggest, and he raises an eyebrow at you. “And ‘ow d’you reckon we do ‘at?”

“Well, I, for one, am partial to the jewels and money you mentioned,” you grin at him, and he cocks his head to the side. “You wanna steal the crown jewels? Mate, I ‘ate to break it to ya but it’s not just one jewel. Or money. It’s a collection of shit.”

“And? You act like I’m a beginner at this shit,” you say, snorting and finishing your water. He smirks. “Serious?”

“Would I ever joke about making rich assholes panic?” you grin, taking your sweatshirt off to reveal your catsuit. You slip on your gloves and wink at him. “Let’s go, mate,” you imitate his accent and he jumps up, opening the portal to his world. “You got a plan?” he asks as the two of you enter, and you shrug. “Not necessarily, but they won’t even know I’m there.”

“Cocky, ain’t we?” Hobie teases and you giggle, shrugging. “I’m good at what I do.” “The jewels are protected. And on display. Dunno ‘ow you plan to get ‘em, but I’m excited to see it ‘appen,” he says as you step foot in his flat. You grin. “I have my ways. I say we hit it when it’s like 2am. Which luckily for us is in… right now, actually.”

“Ain’t this late gonna be expected?”

“Yes. I love a challenge,” you smirk and he shakes his head. “You’re mental.”

“But you like it.”

“Love it. No one ever actually wants to do shit like this with me,” he says and you shake your head. “Can’t imagine why. This is about to be so fun,” you smirk, and he nods, giving you a fist bump. “So just ‘ow are wee expectin’ this to go down? Am I meant to come inside with ya?,” he asks and you shrug. “Didn’t expect you to, honestly. Figured you’d be distracting the cops so I can get in there anyways,” you explain and he nods. “I can do ‘at. If I’m lurkin’ round the guards’ll ‘ave a fit.”

“Your accent gets thicker when you’re home, how is that even possible?” you say your thoughts out loud, and he rolls his eyes. “What is it with all of you and my accent. ’s just the way I talk,” he grumbles, and you laugh. “Because you get so annoyed by it. At least that’s why I do it,” you say, and he shakes his head. “No wonder Miguel ‘ates you.”

“Hey! He doesn’t hate me! He just strongly disapproves of all of my life choices and urges me not to speak to him most of the time,” you feign offense, and Hobie holds his hands up in surrender. “Now, where are these jewels held?” you ask looking out at the city through his window. He looks out, pulling his mask on. “Tower of New London. They moved the most important pieces overseas so the new Queen could ‘ave a second coronation over ‘ere. ‘ave ‘em on display for the public to see. Make money off it,” he explains and you scoff. “That’s fucking stupid. Are you sure they’re real?”

“Oh, yeah. No doubt. Like I said, they love flauntin’ their wealth,” he says, and you grimace. “Gross. Can’t wait to take them,” you say with a smirk. “Need a lift, love?” he asks, holding his arm out for you to grab onto him. “Would love one, mate, thanks for offering.” You wrap your arms around his neck, and he grips onto you. He jumps out of his window, webbing to the New Tower of London which looks a bit out of place in the cityscape belonging to New London, but you can see why they hold the jewels here. “It’s like a small castle,” you mumble, and Hobie nods. “Fuckin’ annoyin’ ‘ow everythin’ ‘as to be so over the top,” he says as the two of you land in an alleyway across the street, hidden in the shadows. You scope out the place. “You weren’t kidding. Guards are everywhere,” you mumble and he nods. You point to a part of the castle that isn’t well-lit, a wall on the side of one of the watch towers. “We can climb that,” you say, and he nods. “Time to go make the wankers freak,” he says, and the two of you sneak over. The two of you scale the wall of the walkway surrounding the main part of the tower undetected, making your way to the wall you pointed out earlier. You use your claws to climb up while Hobie uses his spider powers.

You hoist yourself up onto one of the platforms, ducking down and hiding behind a wall to figure out what your next move is. Hobie was right beside you. “I think… this might be where we part,” you whisper, and he nods. “Don’t die, yeah? Lotta paperwork I don’t feel like doin’,” he says before swinging away to distract the guards. You scoff. You watch as guards run off in the direction he was spotted in and make your move. You run to the wall of the next building, climbing it and hiding from the guards on the top of the roof. You quickly sneak to the other side of the roof, only to see that the middle of the castle is connected to nothing. “So that’s why they call it a fucking tower,” you mumble, scaling down the side of the wall and into the grassy lawn.

You assess the situation. You know there are guards in those watchtowers, but that would probably be the easiest and most efficient way for you to get in. You just need them to be distracted enough for you to run across the lawn and over to one of them. As if on cue, you hear Hobie play a chord. Loudly. You smile to yourself. Perfect.

You sprint across the lawn, being sure to stay as shrouded by shadow as you can, and luckily for you multiple guards are on edge and running to wear the guitar noise came from. You hear them calling Hobie some… choice words and chuckle. He’ll be so happy to know they hate him so much. You quickly start to scale up the watchtower, looking out just in case a guard might see you.

You were in the clear.

You reach the top, quietly peering into the tower, and see a guard looking out of the opposite window. You climb through the window you’re in front of, not making a sound, before sneaking past the guard. You quietly hurry down the stairs, and peer through a large archway. You search for cameras, pulling out your small throwing knives to break them if needed. You spot two, hitting them with deadly correct aim. You scoff, sneaking out and making your way to some large double doors. They’re locked, of course, so you use your claws. You pick the lock, quietly pushing it open and slipping through. Sure enough, your intuition was right, and now you’re in the room with probably billions or trillions of dollars. You glance around to see if there are any guards inside the room. None. Strange. “Come to mama,” you mumble, taking out a vial of chalk dust and blowing it. Yep. Lasers. That’s fine.

You start crawling, flipping, and sliding your way through the lasers, collecting a few gemstones, a staff, an all-gold orb with a crown on it, a giant fucking diamond, and finally, a purple crown endowed with gold and jewels. You collect them one by one, placing them in a bag you have laying where the lasers start. You shake your head. Relying on lasers is never a good idea for people trying to protect their things. For you? Amazing. You sneak back out, closing the door and glancing around. You hear the faint noise of screams and an electric guitar. Hobie’s still got them distracted. Good.

You run up the way you came. This was almost too easy, but then again, you are skilled at what you do. Too bad your dumbass forgot there was a guard up here. “Oi!”

“Oh! Hi, there. If you don’t mind, I’ll just be on my way,” you say, slinking towards a window. Unluckily for you, he pulls out a sword. Though he does have a gun, so… guess it could be worse? “I’m like, totally not telling you that I’d prefer the bullets… but why a sword when you have that?” you say as he takes a swipe at you and you dodge it. He doesn’t respond, and you frown. “I heard you speak earlier, bro. I know you can,” you backflip away from him, tossing the jewels to the side and getting ready to fight. “Seems a little… redundant, you know? Like why even carry a gun if you’re not gonna use it.”

“Pipe down, cow,” he growls as you continue dodging his attacks. “Well, now, that just wasn’t very nice. Clearly, no one has ever raised you to treat women with respect,” you say, using your claws to catch the sword in your hands. His eyes widen as you yank the sword away from him. You kick him in the side of the head, disorienting him before swiping his legs out from underneath him. He falls down, hard, and you stick a loose part of his uniform with his sword into the bricks below him. “Would love to stick around and chat, but I have some jewels to sell.” You wave, picking up your bag and leaping out of the window, using your claws to slide down the wall. You sprint across the lawn, being careful to stay in the shadows, and make your way back out to the wall you and Hobie climbed earlier. You lay low, hoping that Hobie can deduct you’re done and give you a quick getaway, but it’s never that easy. You slide down the wall again, hearing the commotion of the guards starting to race around and search the perimeter, so you stay hidden. You make your way back across the street and into the alley that you and Hobie were in earlier. You send him a quick message on your watch before climbing up one of the buildings.

You watch as across the street chaos ensues. And you smirk to yourself knowing that you have the riches of a family that never deserved them. You hear a familiar voice screaming, “What?! Ya didn’t like the show! I played jus’ for you bloody lot, ’n ‘is is ‘ow ‘m repaid?!”

You shake your head as Hobie lands next to you, pulling you behind the door that leads into the building the two of you are on top of. “We should definitely run,” you say, waving the bag towards him and he nods. “Right,” he says, pulling you into him and webbing away again. You lose the guards, and he quickly ducks into his flat. You roll into the room whereas he lands perfectly, and there’s a silence that falls between the two of you. You turn your head to look at him and give him a big smile. “Think I can return any of this shit to the original owners?”

“What ‘ave you got?” he asks, dumping out the bag. He pulls his mask off, genuine shock on his face. “You got it all?!”

“I told you. I’m good at what I do,” you say, picking up the giant diamond. You gasp. “No fucking way. This is—”

“The Koh-I-Noor,” Hobie laughs, picking up the crown and inspecting it. “Bloody tosser wore this on ‘er ‘ead the other day. Now it’s in my ‘ands,” he smiles, tossing it to the side with no regard for caring for it. You hear the heavy gold thump on the ground and shake your head. “How much you think all this’ll go for?”

“Mate, this shit is priceless. I can’t wait to see the look on Pavitr’s face when we show ‘im you got the Kah-I-Noor,” Hobie shakes his head, and you grin. “Well, let’s get it back to my place, yeah? I can display it and the best part is these assholes here will never find any of it.”

“Lead the way, love.”

You enter through a portal into your home, typing a code into a painting that opens like a door. You allow Hobie to see your treasure room. He’s honestly kind of stunned. You have so many priceless artifacts in here. It’s impressive. “Mate. You are cool as fuck. Jus’ thought ya should know ‘at,” he mumbles, picking up an emerald the size of his head. You chuckle. “I know, Hobie. Now, let’s get this diamond to Pav, shall we?”

As soon as Miguel got the notification that there was disrupt in Hobie’s universe due to someone stealing the Crown Jewels, he had to take a walk.

He was stressed.

───────────────────────────────────

『 tag list 』

@noelsilly* @yunonaneko​

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[cleolinda]

The Scariest Movie I Ever Saw in a Theater: The Ring

I'll tell you up front that the story I'm going to tell you is about "The Ring (2002)," in the sense that it is about The Ring in the year 2002.

See, I don't know what The Scariest Movie Ever is. A quick google says that the consensus is The Exorcist (I haven't seen it, because I never felt like scheduling a day to freak myself the entire fuck out). But horror is specific, and not just to a person, but to a time and place, even. When I saw The Shining as a teenager in a well-lit living room with other people, I didn't even really flinch, but I bet it would play very differently to me now. I don’t think The Ring is at the top of anyone’s list, but twenty years ago, I had a personal interest in it—at the time, I was running a dinky little Geocities site devoted to movie news. Links curated and compiled from all the other, bigger sites I followed—basically, it was the linkspam format I have used on multiple platforms, including here on Sundays. And so, as someone who followed theatrical releases pretty closely for two or three years, I saw the trailer for The Ring, and I immediately knew it was going to be huge.

To locate you in time, this was just after three self-satirizing Scream movies and the Overcomplicated Serial Killer films of the '90s. The Ring was something completely different: chill aqua-blue color grading a good 5-6 years before Twilight; a mournful Hans Zimmer score; no jokes, no quips; and a slow, inexorable sense of doom. Grief, even, given that the movie begins with the death of the main character's niece. What immediately struck me about the first trailer was 1) the melancholy of it, and 2) how much it doesn't explain. Onscreen, you get the title cards,

THERE IS A VIDEOTAPE IF YOU WATCH IT SEVEN DAYS LATER YOU DIE

Concise! Understandable! A woman (Naomi Watts) is freaking out upon discovering that her young son has just watched it! Admirable job setting up the premise and the stakes of this entire movie in thirty seconds flat, without even any dialogue. That's all you need to know, and thus, the remaining minute of the trailer can do whatever it wants, and what it wants to do is be fucking weird. Echoing voices, TV static, a closeup of a horse's eye, ladders, a girl with dark hair, people reacting to things we don't see, drippy doorknobs, rain. Characters don't give us the whole plot in convenient soundbites of dialogue (like they do in a later trailer); we just hear lines, overlapping, murmured out of context—

did you see it in your head? she talks to you... leading you somewhere... showing you the horses... you saw it. did you see it in your head? she shows me things. Everyone suffers.

That you saw it has lived in my head ever since, and not once have I charged it rent. But the "best" part is Naomi Watts screaming at the end, because you don't hear her voice; you only hear this heartless telephonic beeeeeeep. It's 2002 and I'm watching this trailer, thinking, I have no idea what the fuck I just saw. This is going to be huge.

And it was, to the tune of $249 million on a $48M budget.

At risk of recapping what you might already know, Ringu, aka Ring, is a media franchise that spiraled out from a trio of Koji Suzuki novels into Hideo Nakata's film Ringu (1998), a landmark of Japanese horror, plus several other movies, some TV series, many comics, and even a couple of video games. The overarching story is about a murdered girl/vengeful ghost named Sadako Yamamura whose rage and pain have created a cursed video tape, you watch it and you die unless you pass the tape around like a virus, seven daaaaays, etc.

The "ring" in question is the rim of a well. Keep that well in mind.

The movie I saw is the U.S. remake, which itself had two sequels. (The iconic Sadako is now named Samara Morgan. Keep her in mind, too.) Director Gore Verbinski moved from The Ring to Pirates of the the Caribbean (!), and so Hideo Nakata himself would direct The Ring Two. I... honestly have only seen the first one. And I was right, it was huge, and it kicked off the American J-Horror Remake genre, for better or worse. But what gets forgotten about The Ring is its marketing campaign, which I followed pretty closely for my doofy little news site.

It was inspired.

The story of The Ring is partly the story of the sea change in the media landscape—how we watch movies. And the story of its marketing is a picture of the very last years before social media changed the wilderness of the internet into something that feels so big, like a billion people could see anything we say, and yet so small—only a tame handful of places to say it, owned by three or four companies, and corraled by algorithms.

Back around 1997-1998 or so, I worked at a video store (Movie Gallery, where the hits were there then, guaranteed) for about a year and a half. By the time I left, we had started adding DVDs to the VHS tapes on the shelves, but we hadn't replaced the entire stock. Video stores might have transitioned fully to DVD by 2002, I'm not sure, but people still commonly had both VCRs and DVD players in their homes. And I remember that The Ring was sold in both formats when it eventually hit home video. Which is to say—you know the analog horror genre today? Marble Hornets, Local 58, The Mandela Catalogue?

Analog horror is commonly characterized by low-fidelity graphics, cryptic messages, and visual styles reminiscent of late 20th-century television and analog recordings. This is done to match the setting, as analog horror works are typically set between the 1960s and 1990s. The name "analog horror" comes from the genre's aesthetic incorporation of elements related to analog electronics, such as analog television and VHS, the latter being an analog method of recording video.

Okay, but this is just what home media was like, and 2002 was at the very tail end of that—boxy black VHS tapes that degraded with time and reuse were just how we lived. At the same time, I'd been using CDs for music since about 1991, and all our software installs came on CD-ROM discs; a "mixtape" by that time had shifted to mean a rewriteable CD rather than a cassette tape. In college, I—well, I'll plead the Fifth as to whether I downloaded mp3s via Napster, but I was also taping Mystery Science Theater 3000 on VHS over the weekends. It was Every Format Everywhere, All At Once, and we kept half a dozen kinds of players around for them. Here in 2023, we stream and download everything invisibly, unless we choose to engage in format nostalgia. (I've already run into the problem of Apple Music deleting songs I really liked, due to this or that licensing issue, because I was really only renting them.) The year The Ring hit theaters was the edge of a last shimmering gasp of physical media where iTunes had only come into being the year before, and iridescent discs were still mostly what we used, but cassettes, both video and audio, were still viable. And so, people did not think it was terribly weird when they started finding unlabeled VHS tapes on their windshields.

Movieweb, quoting TikTok user astro_nina:

"Their marketing strategy was essentially 'let's get this tape viewed by as many people as possible without these people being aware of what this is, sort of raising intrigue," she says. One way they achieved this was by airing the tape, which allegedly marks its viewers for death within seven days, as a commercial with no context. The video would air between late-night programming "with no words, no mention of a movie, for like a month...so people would run into it and it would just go on to the next thing, and people would be like, 'what the f--k is this?'"

I remember seeing the Cursed Video as an unexplained ad at least twice, by the way. That TikTok also indicates that DreamWorks straight-up sent copies of the tape to Hot Topic stores, as well as planting them under actual movie theater seats. While running my movie site, I heard at least one story of someone finding a tape on the sink counter of a restroom at a club. Did the marketing department actually plant tapes in bathrooms—or did a freaked-out recipient leave it there, hoping to dodge the "curse"?

(I haven't embedded the Cursed Video here, by the way—but I could have. If you'd like to see the American take on it, you can watch both the full version and the shorter variant that appeared in the movie itself. A text description of what the fuck you're even looking at is here [content note for both: blood, insects, animal death, body horror, and suicide by falling]. The original version from the Japanese film is shorter, and it's eerie rather than gruesome.)

BUT WAIT, THERE WAS MORE: DreamWorks had something of an alternate-reality campaign going with a handful of in-character websites. This was only a year after Warner Bros. ran the groundbreaking "The Beast" ARG for A.I.: Artificial Intelligence: "Ultimately, fifty websites with a total of about one thousand pages were created for the [A.I.] game." (I lurked in the Cloudmakers Yahoo group.) Marketing for The Ring did not go anywhere that in depth, nor did it need to; it was both a smaller film and a smaller story. I saw at least two “personal” websites (seemingly amateur and a little tacky, like my own), but the one I particularly remember was about someone who owned/trained horses? I'm not sure if it was meant to be the actual Anna Morgan character—Samara's mother—or maybe someone who had noticed that the Morgans' horses were disturbed? I'm not even sure anyone even remembers this but me. Reddit users dug up a few other archived websites, but they're about Sadako, the curse and/or videotape; they aren't as subtle or character-oriented as the site I remember. (Honestly, I wonder if weird shit like "What Scares Me" or "SEVEN DAYS TO LIVE" were made by fans rather than a marketing department, but who knows.)

[The “About” page from Seven Days to Live on the Internet Archive.]

[The entirety of An Open Letter on the Internet Archive. “UPDATE” is a now-blank pop-up. I would bet $5 that it was originally a pop-up of the cursed video.]

I need to point out here that Facebook did not exist in 2002. It would not exist for another two years, and Twitter wouldn't exist until 2006. Even MySpace was not a thing until the next year. I didn't start my Livejournal until October of 2003. What we had, for the most part, were independent forums and blogs. We also had Creepy Internet Fiction like "The Dionaea House" and "Ted the Caver"; their use of the blog format, of people out there seemingly living their lives until something fucked up went down, gave the stories the shape of reality. And it helped that these blogs had comment sections, sure—sometimes more story unfolded there—but for the most part, an author could "abandon" a blog, and you'd just find the story there via word of mouth. Like the Ring blogs I remember, it wouldn't seem strange if no one replied to you, whereas today, you'd have to hire a writer to sit on Twitter, or Reddit, or even Tumblr, and interact with people in character. Could you do something like The Ring's mysterious, weird-ass blogs today? Would anyone even notice?

So: It's 2002, my head is full of Alternate Reality and eerie images and you saw it, and I'm hype as hell to go out and see The Ring. I'm perfectly happy to go see movies by myself, so I went in the early afternoon (best time to get a good seat). The movie ended up being a sleeper hit, and the first weekend, the public was still sleeping on it, so there were only 7-8 other people in that theater, grouped in maybe two clusters. I was off in my own little pool of darkness in the upper right quadrant. Functionally, once the lights went down, I was alone.

Despite some middling reviews at the time, The Ring is something of a horror classic nowadays. If you want a scary movie this Spooky Season, check out The Ring. Or don't, because it nearly killed me.

We're at the last, I don't know, third of the movie? And Our Heroine has tracked down the origin of the Cursed Videotape to some creepy mountain motel or whatever. SPOILER, it turns out that it was built over the Cursed Well (everything in this movie is cursed) that Our Villain was thrown into—that's why Sadako/Samara is a vengeful wet murder ghost crawling out of TVs now. While investigating this decrepit hotel room, intrepid journalist Rachel and her, who is it, her ex-husband? her kid's dad, idk, discover the well under the creaky old floorboards. And then, wouldn't you know it,

NAOMI WATTS FALLS INTO THE WELL

NAOMI WATTS FALLS INTO THE FUCKING WELL

THAT'S WHERE SAMARA'S BODY IS

[The rather slapstick moment when Rachel falls into the well. Does not include what actually happens next.]

I go absolutely rigid in my seat. Naomi Watts is splashing around this dark-ass death swamp of a well and I know, with as much certainty as I have ever known anything in my life, that Samara is about to pop up in all her pasty, waterlogged glory. All the sad creepy dread, all the desperation to figure out what the fuck all that shit on the tape was and stop Samara from killing Rachel's son, all the horrible contorted victim faces, all the alternate reality I’ve been soaking in, it has all come to this. I have to leave the theater. I cannot be having with this. I have to be gone from this place. My legs do not work. I cannot feel them. I am frozen. I want nothing more in this life or any other to get up and leave this cavernous pitch-black room, and I cannot. I start praying for death. I want you to understand that I am not trying to be flippant or humorous. This is genuinely what went through my head. I was too scared to even think, "You know, you could just pray to pass out or for motion to return to your limbs or something." No, I sat there in The Ring thinking, Please for the love of all mercy just let me cease being.

You know that scene in Mulholland Drive (also starring Naomi Watts)? Winkie's diner and the EXCRUCIATING tension? It was a little like that, except I wasn't watching it, I was experiencing it, and Samara was my dirt monster out behind the diner.

Except that the jump scare didn't actually happen. I mean, yes, Rachel finds Samara's body down there, but—I don't remember exactly, please don't make me go watch it again to tell you what actually happens. It's played more sympathetically on Rachel's part, as I recall, and she and her ex get Samara's body out so that she (Samara) can have a proper burial.

And then it turns out that this is not the end of the movie. It turns out that Rachel has Fucked Up.

I think I was relatively okay through the rest of it, although the climax is Samara emerging from a TV in her full glitching swampy glory to scare [SPOILER] to death. I don't recall praying for death twice. There's a point when you're so exhausted from fear chemicals that you're like, yeah, this might as well happen. Bring it, Soggy. I did have a hard time prying myself out of that seat afterwards, though, and my mom says that when I got home, I had the classic thousand-yard stare. How was the movie?

"It was great," I said, and I meant it.

I've seen things that were objectively scarier (I watched much of The Haunting of Hill House from behind a pillow, to be honest), and it's not like I've never experienced fear in real life. But I respect when a movie that can make me feel so intensely, and there's something weirdly precious about the way horror is a safe roller coaster, as it's often been said. So I love telling the story about The Time The Ring Nearly Killed Me—a movie that actually made my body stop working—and I love thinking of how embedded in a specific time and place that movie was for me. The last gasp of VHS when the Cursed Videotape still seemed plausible; the way the internet was still wild and weird and free; where I was in my life, keeping up so avidly with all the movie news, and finding myself in such a little pool of darkness early one afternoon. It's the scariest movie I saw in a theater; that's the alchemy of circumstance.

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - part 14.1

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 3.5k | previous part | masterlist

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: okay babes I’m desperate to get this out bc this part is going to be so fucking long I had to break it up into parts

“Rhys, stop!”

Feyre’s shriek of annoyance draws your attention to the front, your eyes watching Feyre chastise Rhysand for driving almost 30 miles per hour over the speed limit. You and Azriel were in the backseat of Rhys’s car (“It’s a Tesla,” Rhys would correct), Feyre in the front seat making several comments about the way Rhys drives as if he is attempting to murder all of you.

Mor and Cassian drove separately in Cassian’s truck - you and Azriel snickered at their less than covert attempts to be alone in the apartment. The six of you had been about to hit the road when Cassian had ‘forgotten his driving sunglasses’ and Mor had immediately offered to help. Rhys had rolled his eyes, telling Cassian the four of you were going to head off instead of waiting for them.

Rhys’s lake house was about an hour and a half away, so you and Azriel had spent that time in the back mindlessly chatting, showing each other silly videos of mostly cats. Feyre sat in the passenger seat, deeming herself in charge of the music, the three of you not caring what she put on.

Whenever Rhys and Feyre were too preoccupied in their own conversation to notice the two of you, you would slip your hand into one of Azriel’s, playing with his fingers or just squeezing lightly before pulling away.

“When do we think Cassian will show up?” You ask, making eye contact with Rhys in the rearview mirror. He scoffs, turning his eyes back to the road, “no telling. He’ll get hungry eventually, so he’ll probably show up around dinner.”

The six of you met up around two, you and Azriel almost arriving late because of your lunch date taking too long. Neither of you wanted to pretend there wasn’t something between you two, but both of you wanted to wait a bit before telling everyone, causing the two of you to linger in the parking lot for far too long, neither of you wanting to keep up the charade.

The impending deadline didn’t stop him from kissing you as if he were going off to war in the parking lot of the cafe you two went to, though. You could still taste the coffee he had on your tongue.

Feyre sighed, looking out the window, “maybe I shouldn’t have put my bag in his truck.”

You laughed, partly at her melodramatics, partly at how foolish she was to leave her bag in Cassian’s truck, “I don’t think you’re seeing that bag for a while, Fey.”

She turns her head to look at you, a scowl on her face, “you make it sound like this is my fault.”

“Well, we did put Cassian and Mor in a car together, so maybe the group is at fault. Just be thankful they didn’t pull over and have sex on top of your bag.”

Her scowl deepened, a look of disgust on her features, “my poor bag would never be the same. I would never be the same.”

“You’d have Cassian butt sweat on it.”

“Ewww, stop.”

“Or worse, his butt hair.”

You laugh as Feyre whips her head to scowl at Rhys, “and how do you know about his hairy butt?”

“Cassian spent our teenage years with a new approach to life - he was determined to be naked at any and every opportunity.” You giggle at Azriel’s words, his ears reddening a bit at the attention you were giving him.

“My mother considered kicking him out because he kept walking around naked and standing in the windows.”

You and Feyre giggled at the image, but Rhys continued. “Our neighbors kept calling and complaining. I’m actually not sure how she got him to stop.”

“She probably bribed him. It’s the only way with him.” You quirk an eyebrow at Azriel before he continues, “nothing ever got to him as a kid - yelling, getting in trouble, praising him. But bribery always worked on him.”

You turn to Azriel, pointing your head in the direction of the front seat, “what was Rhys like as a kid.”

Az huffs, “same as now. Spoiled and annoying.”

Rhys glares at him through the rearview mirror, but Az continues. “He was a bit pompous, always talking about how rich his family was.”

You watch Az try to keep from smiling as Feyre laughs, before reaching a hand out to pinch Rhys’s cheek. The movement pings something in your mind, telling you to ask about it later.

“I did not.”

“You once came to school in a helicopter.”

Rhys sinks a bit in his seat, but you file this whole conversation away in a folder of your brain titled ‘ask again later’. You had a vague sense of things you had picked up over time - Rhys’ parents were technically married, but his dad would travel a lot. Rhys’ mother and sister died at some point. Somehow Azriel and Cassian came into the picture.

It was a bit fuzzy, and you never found out why Cassian lived on his own away from Rhys and Az. You had little pieces, but you needed some way to connect the. You filed it away, just allowing yourself to enjoy the car ride.

The ride eventually reached a lull where the two of you sat in the backseat texting each other while Feyre and Rhys talked mindlessly about goats, maybe. You really weren’t sure what was going on up there.

Azriel: did you know all the guys in this town are riddled with disease

Azriel: so you shouldn’t get anywhere near them

Azriel: just to be safe

You: I like disease-riddled men

Azriel: is now a good time to tell you I had chicken pox as a kid

You: oh really?

You: Mmm itchy men

Azriel: I regret this

You: do you have any scars from it?

Azriel: that’s classified

You: I’ll just have to go around searching for them from other men

Azriel: wait no

Azriel: no no no no no

Azriel: this is a joke right

His eyes snap up to you after you refuse to respond to him, and you have to stifle a giggle at the way he’s looking at you.

You: I’m a changed woman. I prefer disease free men now

Azriel: thank god you’ll stay away from Cassian now

You look up at him with wide eyes before you type back furiously.

You: Azriel we share an apartment what do you mean

You: I let him drink my coffee the other day

You: Azzy please tell me you’re joking

You huff as each of your texts is met back with the three dots indicating he was typing. You looked over at him to find him typing random letters before backspacing to allow the dots to stay up.

You: meanie head

Azriel: you’re the one who said you preferred disease riddled men

You: they wouldn’t treat me like this

You: I would be a queen to them

You: me and my disease riddled king

Azriel: that implies you are their diseased queen

The two of you continue trying to stifle giggles as Rhys drives, Az’s hand moving to squeeze your thigh. You’re so distracted by texting him and his hand on your thigh you don’t notice where you are until the car is pulling into a neighborhood of massive houses that could likely fit multiple families with room to spare. You sit up straighter, looking out the window at these multi-dollar houses and wonder if this was a vacation home, what did Rhys’ house look like growing up?

You knew Rhys’s dad’s lake house was going to be a ridiculously large house. You knew that before, you knew that as the car drove through the neighborhood, but pulling up into the driveway it was as if you had completely forgotten. The house was massive - it had to be at least three floors above ground, and the property it was on was large too.

Rhys’ car slows across the long driveway, no other cars around. You have to strain your neck to look at the house in its entirety - it was beautiful - three or four floors, large windows showing off spacious areas on the second and third floors. It was a mix of the classic lakehouse look, but with slightly modern twists to it. All you could think about while looking at it was how long it would take to clean it. Most of your squabbles with Cassian were over whose turn it was to do dishes, and you knew this place would really test your friendship with him if you lived here.

Or maybe he’d just be able to better hide his messes in this house.

“How long would this take to clean?”

Your voice comes out a bit squeaky before you clear your throat, looking over at Az.

“You think Rhys’s dad does his own cleaning?”

Rhys parks his car in the garage, the four of you getting out. Rhys opens the trunk, and you reach out to grab your bags but Azriel beats you to it, slinging your duffle bag over his shoulder. He crinkles his nose at your pout, sticking his tongue out as he walks into the house. You follow after him, taking in how nice his back looked through his shirt.

Azriel heads to the stairs, taking Feyre to her room, but you fall back to take in the living room. You could host a house party in this living room and fit a hundred people easily. You siddle next to Rhys, watching him play with the lid of his coffee in one hand, his phone lit up in the other.

“Are you worried at all about your dad showing up?”

Rhys sips his coffee before answering, “I’d be more shocked than anyone if he showed up here. Az, Cass, and I once spent an entire summer camped out here. Didn’t even catch a glimpse of him.” He shrugs, his face looking indifferent as his phone screen displays the ‘find my friends’ app, and he looks quizzically at the screen, trying to figure out where Cassian was, you presume.

He blows out a breath, “I’m gonna call him.”

You walk away, opting to look at the photos that decorated the walls. The living room is covered in them, all shapes and sizes of frames littered the yellow wall. You see photos of younger versions of Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys, photos from when they were about ten or so until pretty recently, if you had to guess. You can watch them grow, the three of them looking so unsure of themselves at various stages.

The young photos of Azriel are littered with an air of sadness to them, his eyes not quite as bright as they are now, bandages still lingering on his hands for a long time. Azriel’s the smallest in what you think is the first photo, not much more than skin and bones, his now tan skin had a sickly pale hue to it. A woman and a young girl are in the photos with them, the five of them all looking remarkably similar - it’d be very easy to convince others that the two boys were Rhys’s brothers. The photos are all tan skin, dark curls limp in some photos from the ocean water. They are scattered across the wall, no chronological order to them, but if you lined them up you could watch the three of them grow.

The photos made you feel a well of emotion - how someone could be so cruel to someone so small, so defenseless. But as the photos continued and Azriel blended in more with this family, it made you feel so proud of him for opening himself up like that, when all he knew was pain.

He hadn’t told you the extent of his childhood - just that his family was awful, he hadn't seen or spoken to them in a decade, and his step brothers burned his hands. But the pictures of this small, helpless boy looking so lost at the lake spoke volumes for him.

Rhys put the phone down from his ear as he hung up. “They’ll meet us at the restaurant for dinner. He muttered something about a pit stop before hanging up on me.”

He gazes at the photos as he stands next to you, his eyes landing on the one you’ve been staring at. It involved a very young Azriel, fresh bandages adorning his hands. The striking woman was holding him so delicately, as if her arms squeezed him too hard he’d burst in her hold.

“That’s my mom.”

His voice catches you off guard, not expecting much of anything from him. He points at the photo, his finger tapping slightly on the glass.

“She’s beautiful.”

He hums in agreement, “she loved Az. She fought so hard for him. First person to fight for him, really. Spent a shit ton of money getting custody of him.”

That surprises you, but you leave it there for now, keeping your eyes on her smiling face. His gaze lingers on her soft smile, “she loved all of us, but boy did she love Az.”

You watch his mind go somewhere, not wanting to intrude, about to step away when he speaks up again. “That’s my sister. Kaylah.”

His finger moves to a photo nearby, landing on the young girl that Cassian had hoisted on his shoulders.

“She’s cute.”

“She loved bothering Cassian. The two of them butted heads more than any of us combined.” His voice was full of love and nostalgia. “She once got so mad at him she pulled her shoe off and threw it at his head. He was so chuffed he didn’t notice her throw the other, both of them hitting his eyes. He had a black eye for weeks.”

You laugh, “oh my gods, what happened?”

“What happened?” He turned to you, a wide grin on his face, “we got kicked out of the restaurant we were in, and she had the audacity to ask for her shoes back because they landed at another table.” He laughs, a twinkle in his eye you had never seen before. “Oh, Kaylah was something. She always made us laugh.”

“What happened to her?”

Rhys looks down, the twinkle immediately leaving his eye, “she and my mom were hit by a drunk driver when we started school. We- it was a hard time.”

You look over at him, tentatively moving your arms around his waist and hugging him to you.

“I’m sorry.”

He squeezes you back, his citrusy scent filling your nose. “Me too.”

The two of you gaze at the photos, at a time long gone, standing in silence as if an embrace could change the ending for the subjects of the photos.

The moment’s broken by Feyre’s voice, “what’s going on here?”

You turn your face to look at her, head still against Rhys’s chest, “I’m sorry you had to find out this way. We’re in love. He’s having my baby.”

She gasps overdramatically, clutching her chest as she puts on a ridiculous voice, “oh my stars! The scandal!”

You giggle as Rhys unwraps himself from you, “we were going to tell everyone while we were here, but it’s true. We’re naming the baby Cassian Junior.”

Feyre breaks her resolve, giggling, “how is it Cassian Junior?”

“Cassian’s adopting him, of course.”

Feyre giggles before coming to the wall of photos, looking too. “Wow, you guys were so little!”

You laugh, “yeah now we have proof Cassian wasn’t born with a six pack.”

“A six pack of beer, maybe.”

Azriel’s voice startled you. How a man so large was so adept at sneaking up on you unaware was impressive. He stopped behind you, but you could feel his warmth through your back.

“That would explain a lot,” Rhys mutters, turning away from the photos and sitting onto the couch. He stretched out his long legs, propping them on the ottoman before him. “That drive took a lot out of me.”

“It was two hours,” you scoff, sitting on a nearby chair. Azriel followed you, sitting in the chair next to you.

“Two hours is a long time.”

“Maybe for a baby,” Feyre coos, sitting next to Rhysand, pinching his cheeks. His hands swat at hers, pushing her away with very little effort. The four of you mindlessly chatter away, Feyre telling you all about something one of her sisters recently did, until Rhys’s phone buzzed again, Mor texting him that they were half an hour away.

The four of you jump back into Rhys’ Tesla, and he rolls down the windows as he drives you all to some restaurant called ‘Mama’s’.

“But ‘Mama’s’ what?” You had asked, to which Rhys and Az shrugged.

“Just ‘Mama’s’.”

You had huffed, accepting the nonanswer for the time being. The windows give you a glimpse of the tax brackets you drove through - starting the journey in multi-million dollar homes occupied during the warm months, the landscape quickly changes to lower and middle class homes for the people who live here year round.

Rhys pulls the car into a small restaurant, fitted with outdoor lighting and seating. It was so homey - a dozen or so people stood around outside, playing some variety of games like checkers and cornhole. A couple dozen more sat at tables, eating what smelled to be the most enticing food ever created. Your stomach rumbles at the smell, and Feyre laughs at you before you poke her in the stomach with an elbow.

You spot Cassian leaning against his car, Mor standing next to him on her phone. He stretches his arms out, huffing, “finally, we’ve been waiting for you!”

Rhys promptly pushes him as he walks past, and Mor giggles as he falters a bit and she falls in line with you and Feyre and you gag at her. “You smell like sex.”

She gasps, “no I do not,” before discreetly smelling her shirt.

“No, you don’t. Made you sniff.”

She rolls her eyes, copying your words in an exaggerated voice.

The six of you find a table, and you’re seated in the middle of the booth with Feyre and Rhys next to you. Azriel sits on the end of the other booth, and you make brief eye contact across the table, sending him a soft smile.

The waitress comes up to your table, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, her black clothes making her eyes pop, her name tag reading ‘Steph’. She looked at all of you, but her eyes stopped on Azriel, her smile growing wider at the sight of him.

“Hi everybody, what can I get you all to drink?”

She takes your drinks orders, rubbing Azriel’s shoulder as she walks away. Cassian laughs at Azriel’s grimace, “I think she likes you, Azzy.”

“Shut up, Cass.”

Azriel looked to you as your friends kept talking, and you offered him a smile back. His face was hard to read, but his eyes looked so sad. You cock your head to the side, trying to figure out what the problem was, but he turned his head away.

Dinner goes by in a blur, the food was delicious, the six of you spent the evening joking around, except for Azriel, who spent most of the meal quiet. The waitress came by to check on you all several times, and her blatant efforts at flirting would have been amusing if it wasn’t completely obvious how uncomfortable it made Azriel. Each time she returned to your table, you would watch him tense up as she approached, her hands always finding their way to his shoulders. On her third stop at your table, she began calling him Muffin.

Rhys paid the check, handing over the receipt to Azriel.

“For you, Muffin.”

Azriel takes it, and from next to him you can see the phone number written beneath the total. His hands crumple it, discarding it before you all made it to the parking lot. He opens your door before heading to the other side of the car after you slide into your seat. You immediately pull out your phone, your texts with Azriel lighting up the backseat.

You: hi Muffin

Azriel: I’m so sorry

You: why? Did you do something?

Azriel: for the waitress?

You: did you do something with the waitress?

You: I did go to the bathroom, maybe you slipped out and made out with her?

You can hear Azriel furiously typing on his phone.

Azriel: no no no no

Azriel: I didn’t do that, I wouldn’t do that. I’m sorry she was hitting on me.

Azriel: I didn’t know what to do because I didn’t want to tell her I had a girlfriend

You: you have a girlfriend?

You: and you’ve been making out with me?

You: you dog

You peak over at him and his face is a deep red. You want to laugh but you feel a little bad about your teasing once you see his fingers shaking, having to backspace several times over misspelled words.

Azriel: I think so

Azriel: I didn’t mean to imply anything

You: so, you don’t have a girlfriend?

Azriel: I don’t know

Azriel: maybe?

You: do you want one?

You: a girlfriend, that is

Azriel: god yes

Azriel: but it has to be a specific girl

You: anyone in mind?

Azriel: I have my eye on someone

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Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader

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Thanks for reading ❣️

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader [18+] | p. 1

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

a/n - another short chapter, but please bare with me here.

-> <-

June 1972

Eddie Munson has taken your doll. Your precious princess with the silver tiara glued to the top of her head (because you lost the tiara once and you wailed for hours until your mom found it, and she decided to glue it to her head to keep this from happening again).

Never go past the porch. Your mom has repeated time and time again. So, you sit with your feet kicked out in your gingham dress that your mom insists you wear.

Across the trailer park, Eddie is counting down the minute until “blast-off.” Tying your doll to a toy rocket he got with his allowance from his uncle, he knows that this thing won’t go to Mars. Perhaps, a nice landing in the tree hanging above his house would be nice.

It would - until Uncle Wayne soils his plans.

“Eddie!” Uncle Wayne scolds with a newspaper rolled into a swatting weapon. Smacking Eddie upside the head, he warns, “you be nice to her and give her back that doll!”

Eddie huffs, “I wasn’t going to hurt it.”

“Why don’t we give her one of your toys to play with?” Wayne smirks knowing he’s about to win this tireless battle. “G.I. Joe would look pretty in a dress and a little makeover.”

“Ugh,” Eddie tears the strings that hold the princess doll hostage, “I’ll give the toy back. Jeez!”

“And apologize,” he sighs.

Eddie kicks the dirt below his feet and storms across to the trailer there. You’re a pain in his side. Blubbering about a doll? Really?

Wayne constantly reminds him that you’re younger. Actually, you’re about two years younger than Eddie. You can’t chase him around like he wishes. There’s not many kids his age in the trailer park, and the ones that are his age fear the Munson name.

You’re not sure you want to be friends with the boy who keeps taking your dolls to throw around. There isn’t much choice now that your mom has to work, and she’s handing you over to Wayne in the mornings. She offers him a list of emergency contacts, and warns him not to feed you too much sugar.

It’s then you’re left to play with the thief, who steals your dolls. And, for a while, Eddie ignores you. He digs in the dirt with a plastic shovel until he finds a slimy worm. Thinking this would be the perfect time to show you he’s in charge around here, Eddie grows a sly grin. He hovers over you, while you take a keen interest in the toy dump truck left in the sun. Dropping the worm onto your hair, you squeal and shake off the invading insect.

Despite his short victory, you’re now toying with the worm. Rolling the creature between your fingers, you find a nice spot of wet dirt for your friend to crawl around in. Muddy hands grasp at the legs of Eddie’s pants.

Wayne rolls in laughter from the porch. There hasn’t been a moment that Eddie has gone so mute. A shrunken look of dispare drops against his nephew’s face. Jutting out his lower lip, Eddie goes back into his corner to play in the dirt. It just so happens that Eddie’s crafted his own little mud pile, so he can fling a clump or two in your direction.

It isn’t until Wayne is done wiping the tears away from his eyes that he realizes what Eddie has done. Standing on his two feet, ready to scold his nephew, you’re actually too quick for him. You toss mud back.

Thus, a mud fight begins.

Mud in between your fingers and mud between your toes and maybe some mud even squeezes behind your ears.

Wayne waves his hands desperately trying to get the children to stop throwing mud at each other, but alas it is far too late. By the time he gets either of you wrangled, you’re dripping in muck and so is Eddie.

There’s no way he’s trusting either of you inside of his house in such a state. Wayne gathers a garden hose from his neighbor, who will just have to deal with it.

The older man makes sure the water won't freeze your skin, or cook you dry before holding the nozzle at your feet.

“Spin,” Wayne directs.

You wave your chubby little arms back and forth, before wobbling in a semi circle. Warm water douses your entire body. Still, mud manages to cling to the parts of you that Wayne doesn’t see. You’ll have a bath later in his house, and Wayne will offer you some of Eddie’s clothes that he’s outgrown.

During Eddie’s hose down, the young boy shakes and rattles like a wet dog. He flings a disastrous amount of dirt across the trailer park, and onto you and Wayne. Before he can wrap a towel around Eddie, the boy is weaving past him into the house so he can get to the shower first.

“Boys,” Wayne rolls his eyes.

You giggle at this.

“Oh, but you’re as pretty as a peach,” he tells you, “don’t worry. My nephew will come around.”

Wayne brings you inside, and has to help you bathe yourself off. At first, he lets you splash around in the water by yourself feeling a bit uncomfortable washing a young girl. When you discover the joy of throwing water outside of the shower, Wayne steps in to help you. He’s also there to wrap you in a towel, and he helps dress you.

Eddie has already claimed a comfortable spot on the couch. There’s a screeching car chase happening on the blaring television in front of you. This couldn’t possibly be what your mother would approve of you watching.

Wayne’s belly tightens.

“Ed-,” but he stops himself.

Bobbling around the carpeted living room, you squeeze around the shoes left in the middle of the floor. You’re reaching the edge of the sofa where Eddie is. Eddie breaks from the television to scoot forward to the edge of the couch. He puts his thumbs under your armpits and holds onto your chest tight as he lifts you onto the couch with him.

Eddie doesn’t really think you’ll scoot in so close to him. There’s plenty of room that even his uncle could fit between you two. But, you chase after him as he gets comfortable sunken into the cushions.

There’s a moment when the older boy freezes unsure how to handle another person in his space. His eyes go wide and stare a hole through your head. It’s curious your mom chose to put your hair in pigtails - anyone could tug at them. As tempting as that might be, Eddie resists the urge when the car on television crashes on the side of the road. You slap your hands together and laugh.

Wayne mutely coos at the two kids on the couch. Perhaps his nephew will have a real friend out of you one day. That would warm his heart.

“Uncle Wayne?” Eddie kicks his feet out.

“Yeah?” Wayne replies.

“Can we have popcorn?”

“Sure, kid."

-> <-

[Sep. 1974]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92