staystrong-stranger

[screechingsandwichhologram]

i saw someone else do it and the result was bad. so here we go

also no, new york is NOT PART OF NEW ENGLAND

[vzm]

are you insane

[ebenrosetaylor]

Healthcare can be expensive depending on the country you live in, but it is impossible to attain when you live in a country/place where no doctors can perform the procedures that you need. It may be due to lack of equipment, lack of specialized doctors, or no hospitals at all.

I am raising $ for my friend's mother Nabila @nabila60 This is urgent. Her life is at risk RIGHT NOW and we don't know how much longer she can hold on without treatment. If you answered this poll, please reblog it to reach more people. If you have ever had expensive hospital visits, please show sympathy to a mother who will die without treatment. You can save a life! Every donation counts.

[easy-there-leftovers]

Magnum Opus (Ch. 1)

When an MIT prodigy on their gap year is contacted by the FBI regarding her potential involvement in a series of murders in Washington D.C., she must now cooperate to uncover how her paintings are mysteriously appearing at the crime scenes.

(Written with Season 1-4 Spencer in mind, but the timeline could be anywhere pre-season 12. No mentions of past cases)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Artist! reader|cw: Canon-typical violence|word count: 2k words

Also on Ao3!!

Series Masterlist

While Aaron Hotchner remained vigilant as he drove the black SUV, the constant flipping of Spencer’s case files seemed to be louder than the car’s air conditioning. 

He had directed Morgan and JJ to touch base at the MPDC, and had Rossi and Prentiss survey the crime scene of Jonathan Edwards; the identity of the previously unknown man in the vacant apartment.

This left him with Reid in the passenger seat to conduct an investigation on their only lead so far. 

From the update Garicia had given them, Y/n L/n was a prodigy a year younger than their very own. Having graduated from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology a year ago, she moved to Capitol Park Plaza and Twins Apartments in Washington D.C., and is currently unemployed. Occasionally selling her paintings out of her unit under an anagram of her name.

 But something bothered him.

And it seems like Reid has picked up on it too.

“Do you think Dr. L/n is the unsub?” The unit chief asks.

Spencer hums before answering.

“While we can’t rule it out just yet, the possibility of her being the unsub is totally unlikely. The thing that’s throwing me off is that everything is too convenient. I mean, why would the unsub use something so publicly personal to them as part of their signature? It’s as if she’s overtly incriminating herself.”

Spencer checks back onto the pictures of the victims, then lifts his head up to look at Hotch to continue.

“Based on the way the victims are modeled, an immense amount of care was put into them. All for the purpose of making them look like the subjects in their paintings. Actually, the fixation on changing the bodies’ posture and keeping them clean is typically done out of remorse. But the added elements, like the placement of the paintings, creates an image of an unsub more on the narcissistic side. By creating two 'artworks,' they're prompting the viewer to decide which version of it they prefer. Mocking the original artist in the process.”

“So the paintings were done before the murder?”

“I have no reason to believe otherwise.”

His unit chief sighs and pulls over to the curb. “Well, we’re about to test that belief.” Spencer hurries to take off his seatbelt as Hotch closes the car door with a thud. 

—------

Hotchner nods at Reid as they find themselves in front of the written address Garcia gave them. He lifts his hand to knock firmly on your door, and waits for a response.

A thud from the other side causes both of them to assess each other before Hotch tells Spencer to stay behind him. Gun in hand until something, or someone, comes running at them.

But instead a muffled, “sorry” is heard right after, which causes him to lower his gun.

The door finally opens a crack to reveal a very tired twenty-something woman, some dark pigment or makeup smudged on their lower eye lines as they rubbed at it. She immediately fixed her posture however at the sight of the unexpected visitors. Eyes wide with concern.

“Dr. L/n, I’m Aaron Hotchner with Dr. Spencer Reid of the FBI.” He highlights his statement by showing his badge. “We’d like to ask you some questions.” 

“Oh, um,” The woman blinks rapidly and shakes their head before immediately saying, “Of course,” with a nod and opening the door wide to let them in.

A quirk that does not go unnoticed by Spencer, who observes how different she looks to her more formal ID photos.

—-----

You let the FBI agents into your apartment, but are now suddenly aware of the state of disarray you left it in last night. Not to mention the state you were in. 

You had just woken up and your brain wasn’t quite all there yet. If you had known you’d have guests over, you would have at least put some of your books and papers back onto their shelves rather than on your floor.

“My, uh—” You start, “Apologies! For the room and the um,”

You inhale deeply and gesture to yourself as you try to find the words before settling on an exasperated, “me.”

“No worries, miss. We don’t really call in advance.” You nod at the older man’s explanation vacantly before coming up with a response.

“Would you like anything to drink ?” You move to your fridge to get water to wake you up, and decide that it would be rude not to offer. The two decline, with the younger more busy observing your living room bookcase than the older one that sat on your couch. 

You notice that something must have interested him as he lingers on certain shelves. That section in particular had prints of dissertations you had been meaning to read, or have already read, in clear folders.

You wonder if he found his work there or something before returning with water for yourself. 

“So what can I help you with?”

“Dr. L/n, are you aware of the current string of murders that have been happening as of this year?” 

You blink rapidly again. The question catches you off guard, but you shake your head. 

“I know it’s a bad habit, and that I should, but I don’t really listen to the news.” Feeling your eyebrows quirk, you rub your hands together slowly. Making direct eye contact with Hotch, before looking at the younger man as he takes out a few papers from the folder he was holding.

“Are you familiar with these paintings then?”

 Now that piques your interest.

Dr. Spencer Reid, who sees a flicker of recognition in your eyes when it meets his own, presents various pictures of your artworks in what seems to be dimly lit areas. They’re a little dirty, but otherwise you would recognize them as your own.

 The thought instantly made something in your stomach turn.

“I–” You start, but shake your head subtly again. Unsure of what to say and how to say it next as you stare at the images. “am.” You turn your head to look back up at Spencer who nods thoughtfully.

“Recently, your paintings have been showing up at crime scenes in the D.C. area. Specifically, victims of an organized unsub that seems to be targeting people who accurately resemble the subjects in your work.” If your eyes weren’t wide enough, that bit of information had certainly opened them wider than ever before as you stared up at him.

“That, combined with the concentrated traces of 5-durastalene found in the pigments of the paint used, have led us to suspect your involvement in these murders, Dr. L/n.” You heavily feel the blink of your eyelids and rest your fingers on them to keep them closed before looking back at the two of them.

“I’m sorry,” you smile incredulously. “So you’re telling me that not only has Lunacite been identified on the paintings you’ve found, but that people who look like the personas in my private works actually exist and have since been–” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Murdered?”

“Well that shouldn’t come as a surprise, they were your muses, weren’t they? You were commissioned?” Hotch is the one who asks and you shake your head with wide eyes.

“I didn’t even know these people existed. They were just– faces I came up with mentally with the visual library I’ve amassed over the years. I don’t really make it a habit to paint from reference. Like I said, they were private.”

“And the chemical?” You thought for a moment before your lips thinned into a line.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Agent Hotchner, but I haven’t touched anything regarding that compound in over a year. I’ve only ever worked on it in my lab on university grounds, and I don’t make a habit of bringing work home.” You scratch the hairs near the base of your hairline.

“More importantly, hundreds of students and lecturers have access to my work, my research, and my lab space. Not to mention the people who might have heard my work through academic conferences.”

You move away from your position near the living room coffee table Spencer placed the pictures on, but picked up one before you did and shook your head.

“Besides, these paintings? No one should know about them, let alone have them. I didn't sell these.” That made Spencer’s brows furrow as he looked at the other photos still on the table.

“Do you have proof?” You stay silent, but then motion for them to follow you to the door of your room.

“Well, for one, I’m sure you’d understand that most people don’t make copies of their artwork traditionally, right? Expenditure of time, work materials, effort, human error, and many other variables. It just isn’t practical nor convenient.” You ramble and look back at them to continue.

“I also don’t make the majority of my art known online. Only a good 30% makes its way to my portfolio, and the others are never to be seen by anyone else.”

“They're studies. They’re made with cheap paints, they’re subjectively not appropriate for commercial use and-–I just wouldn’t be comfortable charging anyone for them.” 

They follow you across the room, and make themselves apparent behind you.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“So if my ‘commissioned paintings’ are currently on D.C. crime scenes, and possibly in MPDC evidence,” You open the door to reveal your studio to the two agents. 

Various paint tubes, books, and brushes littered the floor, table, and boxes. A lone easel was situated near your apartment window, with an unfinished painting on it. And various canvasses, not displayed, but instead kept on tall shelves. Only the differently colored edges indicated that they were ever used.

What surprised them both however, were the same paintings in the pictures staring back at them.

 Some on the walls, some on the floor, but what was most important was that they were in this room, they were clean, and there were more of them.

You turn to look back at them with shaky eyes. “So why are they still here?”

—----

Hotch and Reid stood outside of your apartment door as you cleaned yourself up. Hotch made the call to bring you to the precinct for further investigation and for your own safety, but allowed you to freshen up before leaving with them. Not that he told you about the safety part.

You were hard to read, given your erratic reactions. It unnerved him, but he supposes it comes with the territory of being gifted. You also offered to bring in your paintings and a few other materials for forensics to test, to which while he was suspicious of, was not ungrateful for.

He made a quick call to Garcia to check attendants of any academic conferences you’ve spoken at and if anyone had been more interested than the others. When he was finished, he looked to Reid who was crossing his arms and staring at the carpeted hallway before looking back at him.

“She’s uncomfortable.” He stated plainly.

“Reid, most people would be if they just found out their hobby had been getting people killed.” Hotch said as he kept looking at his phone for anything new from the others.

“There’s certainly that, but I meant her title. ‘Doctor.’” He said in quotes, and Hotch raises his eyebrow at that but allows him to continue anyway with a curt nod.

“I mean, every time we’ve addressed her with her title, she blinks faster. Did you know it’s a common attribute that’s directly related to an increase in heart rate, which is why they’re usually correlated with lying? Initially, you would think that she faked her experience to get those credentials, but given her educational background, she must have not been given an opportunity to be referred to as such for a long time. Also, the gap year she took could’ve only exacerbated any insecurities she might have about her intellectual achievements. Plus, the lack of organization in her own home, while not wildly uncommon amongst people her age, could suggest the sincerity of her belief about compartmentalizing her work and her private life.”

“And what does that tell you?”

As Spencer was supposed to answer, a thud much like the one they heard before they entered earlier was heard again, followed by a similarly muffled, ‘sorry.’

He turns to look back at Hotch again with a small, victorious smile.

“That she doesn’t fit the profile.”

——-

taglist: @littlewolfieposts

[livwritesstuff]

Steve’s oldest daughter Moe is unusually quiet on the drive home from her college apartment in New York City.

She was supposed to be doing this drive with her younger sister Robbie (who had bullied Steve and Eddie into letting her bring a car with her to college), but then Robbie and her friends had actually managed to squirrel away enough money for an impromptu trip to D.C. for their spring break, and Moe had still wanted to visit home even without a ride.

Steve had made a whole show acting all put out over having to make the four hour drive between her school in NYC and their house in the Massachusetts suburbs (twice, he’ll add — he’s been on the road for six hours so far with a couple more to go) but, truthfully, there isn’t much he wouldn’t do to spend time with his kids, especially since the older two have firmly graduated to young-adult status, and he easily could have put her on a train.

“So what’s goin’ on with you, Moe?” he finally asks when the quiet stretches a little to far.

Moe shrugs, and then she says, “I was wondering something.”

“Go for it.”

“You and Dad, like…you were older when you started dating, right?”

Steve pauses for a moment, allowing himself to consider what might qualify as older to his twenty-one-year-old daughter. 

“I guess it depends on what you mean by older,” he settles on telling her.

“I mean, you weren’t in high school anymore, even though you knew each other in high school.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “I was halfway through grad school, so twenty-six, I think, and you know Dad’s not even a year older than me.”

Moe nods in return, and  then she asks, “And you were friends before anything else happened? Like, for a while?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve replies, “Dad, and Aunt Nancy, and Aunt Robin were my best friends. Still are, obviously, just…different over time.”

“But, like, how–” Moe stops, and Steve can tell without needing to look away from the road to check the way her eyebrows are furrowed, the way they’re crinkled in the middle just like they always are on the rare occasions Moe can’t find the words she needs. She lets out a short exhale, “How did you know that it changed?” Before Steve can answer, Moe shakes her head, “How did you know that what you were feeling wasn’t, like, friend things anymore? Or, like, that it was more than just friend things.”

“Uh,” Steve pauses, running a hand through his hair, “Honestly, Nancy kind of told me.”

Moe’s head turns in his direction.

“Aunt Nancy told you?” she asks, “Pop…that’s so lame.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happened.”

“Why?”

Steve thinks about it for a second. It’s funny, he doesn’t actually put too much thought into that time in his life – the seven years that had lapsed between becoming friends with Eddie in the aftermath of everything with the Upside Down and when they’d finally gotten together. That was nearly thirty years ago, after all, and Steve hasn’t ever really been the type to dwell on the past. He takes a moment to dwell on it now and remembers how long it had taken him to notice the dull ache behind his ribs and the anxious somersault his stomach had done every time Eddie so much as looked his way.

“I mean – yeah, you’re right. It’s…it’s not easy when you’re close with someone for a long time and then the way you feel about them changes, because, you know, it’s not – I mean, it’s not like it changes overnight. It’s gradual, so…yeah, it’s not easy.”

“Yeah,” she quietly agrees.

“Nance, just – well, you know Nance. She just clocked it before I did, and I guess she didn’t have the patience to wait it out. Once I knew though, it was, like, super fucking obvious. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t known before.”

Moe’s laugh is nervous in a way Steve isn’t sure he’s ever heard before, and if there’s a friend of Moe’s she might be feeling differently for, he thinks he might have an idea which one. Moe is a hell of a lot smarter than him though, and this conversation is telling enough that she won’t need things spelled out for her in the way he had with Eddie thirty years ago.

“It was hard,” he continues, because he has a feeling Moe might need to hear more even if she isn’t asking for anything specific, “I – I mean, I actually liked dating when I was your age, believe it or not. I thought it was fun, or whatever, and it wasn’t really a thing that made me nervous, you know? With your dad, though…shit, I was terrified, because it’s a different kind of risk than just shooting your shot with someone you run into and hit it off with.”

Moe nods.

“I think the reason it’s so freaky is because falling for someone you’re friends with is never just a crush. I knew there was something big there. I know you guys hate when Dad and I are all sappy, but he was never just some guy I was dating. He was it for me from the very beginning.”

Moe mumbles something under her breath that Steve doesn’t quite catch.

“What was that?”

“I don’t hate it,” she says, her voice still pretty low, and Steve knows that must have been difficult for her to admit so he doesn’t comment on it (though he will be telling Eddie as soon as he possibly can – obviously).

“Well, I’m just saying,” he replies, “I wasn’t feeling that way for nothing, and things turned out pretty good in the end. If someone was in a similar situation, I’d tell them…” he pauses, and then laughs as he says, “I’d tell them to not wait seven years to get a good thing started.”

“Alright,” she replies, “I’ll…yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

[atlabeth]

northern attitude

geyser (where hurricane is introduced)

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: you and luke meet for the first time. (or luke saves you from a monster, you argue with each other the whole time, and he realizes that he doesn't want to survive alone anymore.)

a/n: by popular demand, hurricane is back for a sequel! and potentially more. lol. enjoy some insight into her (justice for weird little girls) and try not to think about the fact that she dies 6 years later! title comes from new england king noah kahan for these new england icons

wc: 4.6k

warning(s): some inner luke angst, monster encounter and short fight (luke gets a bit injured), they argue but in the fun way. they're just lil nine year olds

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Luke muttered. 

He didn’t get an answer back. He was, after all, talking to a fish. 

Maybe it didn’t like that he was a criminal. Luke had snuck his way into the New England Aquarium—he wasn’t going to cough up twenty-five bucks to look at marine life—in desperate need of a reprieve from the city, and he fought the urge to check his back every second. If there was one thing he’d learned from being on his own, it was that kids traveling alone always attracted attention. The last thing he needed was attention. 

Talking to a fish probably wasn’t good for that, but Luke wasn’t exactly in the best headstate. 

Because honestly, he didn’t really know what he was doing in Massachusetts. He tried staying in Connecticut after running away, but it still felt too close to home. He could still hear his mom yelling, could still see her glowing eyes. So he bought the cheapest bus ticket he could find to Boston, hoping a state in between would help. 

That was the second thing he’d learned while traveling on the road: everything was way too expensive. And for a kid with no job living off the allowance he’d saved up and some extra money he took out of his mom’s wallet, that wasn’t great. If Luke couldn’t get something dirt cheap, he stole it. His father may not have answered any of his prayers in the past few years, but at least he had naturally quick fingers. 

Luke sighed as he turned away from the fish, who was clearly not interested in striking up a conversation. He weaved his way through the crowd as he tried to think of where to go next—it wasn’t the smartest decision, but he was tempted to get a little whale plush from the gift stop—when he heard the middle of a conversation. 

“You made a mistake coming here, dearie.” 

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as Luke froze in place. He couldn’t even murmur an apology to the people who bumped into him because the gears in his head were turning rapidly. 

“Let go of me—” a voice protested in response. 

“Quieting down would do you some good. Did your mother not teach you manners?”

He was still trying to see who it was when he finally found it. A middle-aged woman moved through the crowd with a girl around Luke’s age, her hand wrapped tightly around the girl’s arm. Her nails were more like claws, and she had a strange gait that she tried to cover up. That was when he knew. 

See, Luke had gotten used to distinguishing creeps from freaks with all his time on the road. Cutting a monster down would turn them into dust—normal humans would call the police. And if there was anything more dangerous for a runaway juvenile than monsters, it was the police. 

But if a monster had ignored every single person in this building to get to you, it meant he’d somehow stumbled his way into the path of another half-blood. And Luke wasn’t going to let another half-blood die right in front of him. 

So he took a deep breath, hoped the five second plan he made up in his head would work, and moved in.

“May, where have you been?” Luke tried to put on his best brother voice, and made himself as imposing as a nine year old could be. He didn’t focus at all on the monster, instead communicating to trust him as much as he could with his eyes. “Mom’s been worried sick!”

Both you and the woman turned to look at him, and Luke immediately knew he made the right choice from the blatant fear in your expression. 

“Sorry,” you said, letting your shoulders fall and your gaze drop to the ground. Luke tried not to let his relief show over you playing along. “I really wanted to look at the sea turtle—” 

“You should’ve said something instead of just wandering off,” he insisted. “We can all go look at it together—once Mom is done lecturing you, at least.” Luke took your hand and you let him pull you over to his side, positioning himself in front of you ever so slightly as he looked up at the woman. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her. I appreciate it.” 

“You should be more careful,” she said eerily. It felt as if she was staring right into his soul. “You never know the kind of things that are out there.” 

“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “Sisters, am I right?” 

As soon as they were out of hearing distance, he lowered his voice and tightened his grip on your hand. “Come on. Try and look casual.” 

“You know what she is,” you whispered.

“Yes,” he said, then he shook his head. “I— not exactly. But I know she’s a monster.”

“I knew it,” you muttered with vindication. Luke felt your eyes on him. “So you’re like me?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“One of your parents is—” You stopped, as if you still weren’t sure. 

Luke knew the feeling all too well—desperately trying to tell someone what he was only to be met with that look adults loved to give. You’re clearly talking nonsense, but I feel bad for you so I’ll humor you. And all the normal kids he’d tried to tell the truth to thought he was just playing a game. 

“A god,” he finished quietly. “Yeah.”

You started to look back, but Luke stopped you. 

“Don’t.” Their chances of getting attacked in a place so full of people was lower, but Luke had dealt with some particularly bold monsters. One able to disguise themself as a human would have an advantage—Luke learned people hated listening to kids, especially ones they could pass off as delusional. “You don’t want her to catch on.” 

“Who are you?” you asked. 

“My name’s Luke,” he said. “What about you?” 

You said your name, then you glanced at him. “You know a lot about all of this. More than me.” 

“Are you a runaway too?”

You nodded, and a part of his heart broke. You had no right to be out here, not when you were so young. 

And he says so, too. “You shouldn’t be out here on your own. It’s dangerous.” 

You frowned. “You’re out here on your own too.” 

“I’ve been on my own for a few months,” he said. “I know what to expect. How long have you been out?” 

You shrugged. “A week.” 

Luke let out a ragged sigh. “You’ve got bad luck if monsters are already coming after you.” 

“They already have,” you murmured, and you looked back at him. “How old are you if you’ve been doing this for months?” 

Luke frowned. “Nine. How old are you?” 

“I’m also nine,” you shot back. “So you can’t say anything to me.” 

He opened his mouth to retort—Luke hadn’t been a child in years, not since Hermes left him alone with a cursed mother and a burning rage inside of him that he couldn’t let go of, no matter how hard he tried. But if you chose to run away from home too, then you were in the same boat. Kids like you two didn’t get to be kids. 

“Fair,” he conceded. “But it’ll be a lot easier to give her the slip if we work together.”

“…I can deal with that.” You cleared your throat. “Thank you for saving me, though. I… I just froze.” 

“It happens more than you’d think,” Luke muttered. “We have to throw her off our trail, though. She’s not gonna be happy.” 

“She’s probably ecstatic,” you said, shaking your head. “She’s got two kids to eat instead of one.” 

“Aren’t you an optimist?” he remarked. 

You chuckled. “Sorry. It hasn’t been a great day.” 

“It’s fine.” Luke didn’t know the last great—god, even good—day he’d had, even before he ran away. Honestly, this conversation with you had been the highlight of this month. “But we can’t just leave. She has our scent, so she’ll be on us as soon as we’re on our own. It’ll be even easier out in the open. We’ve gotta set security on her trail to get her off ours.” 

You nodded as you turned another corner. “We should get to the gift shop. It’ll be less populated, but still enough to hide us.” 

Luke nodded. “Smart. And security’ll have an easy path there in case of shoplifters.” 

“So tell a sob story, get security, set them on her,” you said, looking at him. 

“Then get the hell out of here,” he agreed. 

“Think we can get a souvenir for the occasion?” you asked. “We’ve probably earned it with all this dodging.” 

Luke thought about that whale plushie again. “Maybe.” 

“The stairs are that way.” You gestured with your head, and Luke turned—he’d been going the completely wrong direction.

“Thanks,” he said. “You know this place?” 

“I’m from Boston,” you nodded. “And I’ve been here a lot with my mom.”

Luke figured he should have guessed by the accent. He didn’t know how long he was going to stay, but it would be useful to have someone with him who knew the city.

“You’re still pretty close to home,” he noted. 

You shrugged. “I’ve been doing all the things I’ve wanted to do now that I’m officially on my own. I know I’m gonna have to leave eventually, but…” you sighed and shook your head. “I guess I’m scared. Brave enough to run away but too scared to make it official.” 

Luke understood that more than you could know. It took him feeling like he was going to burst out of his skin before he got the strength to leave Connecticut. 

“You don’t wanna leave your mom,” he guessed. 

You nodded. “I love her more than anything, but I’ve already put her in too much danger. I’m leaving until I can figure out how to keep her safe.” 

You’re a kid, Luke wanted to say. It should be the other way around. But he’d already been hypocritical enough for today, and you’d probably say the same. 

“That’s sweet,” he said. “Stupid, but sweet.” 

“We’re both nine-year-old runaways,” you said. “You don’t get to tell me what’s stupid.” 

He chuckled and shook his head, letting the matter drop as you finally got to the gift shop. Luke had been stressed about how to strike a balance between cautious enough to keep your backs covered but confident enough to not be questioned, but it turned out talking with you was all he needed. 

On the way to the front, Luke caught sight of a whale plushie. His fingers itched to grab it, but he kept his eyes on the better prize of not dying and came to a stop at the cash register. 

“Hi,” Luke said, getting the attention of the employee at the front, hoping he sounded adequately fearful. “There’s a woman out there that tried to get my friend to go with her. Tall, middle-aged, dressed in grandmother-y clothes with glasses. She grabbed her arm and threatened her.” 

“You kids aren’t joking around, are you?” the cashier asked. 

“No,” you said, and Luke was shocked by how close to tears you sounded. “It was really scary— my parents were in the bathroom and I was waiting for them, and she just looked so nice, but—” somehow, a tear actually fell from your eye as you let out a sob— “but she tried to take me away.” 

The woman shook her head as she went back and grabbed a walkie talkie from below the register. The moment she turned away, you glanced at Luke and nodded, and he just stared in awe. She relayed Luke’s description then said a couple other things, then she crouched down to be on their level to look you straight-on. “Where are your parents?” 

“They’re in the bathroom on the second floor,” you provided. “We came here because we didn’t know where else to go.” 

She sighed, falling for every part of it. You were much better at garnering sympathy than Luke was. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I called our security— they’ll be here in a second to get a statement from you.” 

You nodded, sniffling a bit as your lip quivered. “Thank you. I— I just want my mom.” 

The employee put her hand to her heart, and when you went for a hug, she reciprocated. “Don’t cry. You’re gonna be safe, okay? I’ll wait with you until security gets here. One of our guards is already out there looking for her.”

“Okay,” you agreed. Luke caught your eye from behind her back, and you dropped your act in a second to smile knowingly at him. He just shook his head with a slight smile of his own—you were good at this. 

Eventually, two security guards arrived—Luke doubted they would be good for handling a shoplifter, much less a mythological monster—but they took yours and Luke’s statements, and were about to leave before you spoke up. 

“Our parents are definitely looking for us,” you said, already back on the verge of tears. “Can— can you take us to them? When they went to the bathroom, we were by the coral reef.” 

“‘Course.” One of them nodded and looked at his partner. “I’ll get them back to their parents—you look for the suspect.” 

After a short discussion, the three of you set out, you still holding Luke’s hand as he leaned closer to you. 

“On my signal,” he murmured. “We’re gonna blend into the crowd and get out of here.”

You nodded. You were so close to the exit, but you allowed the guard to take you up the stairs, and thankfully the crowd around the middle of the giant ocean tank was huge. Luke counted off quietly, and when he got to three, you split off, blending into a group of kids on a school field trip to get back to the stairs. 

You started moving at a much quicker pace, the exit within your sights, but just as they were about to make it, Luke spotted their monster. And now, she was definitely a monster—Luke couldn’t remember the name, but she’d shed her disguise, looking like some kind of bird-human hybrid thing. It didn’t really matter in his opinion, because she really looked like she wanted to kill the two of you. 

Luke cursed and grabbed your arm, immediately pulling you flat up against the wall with him. “She’s here.” 

“We told security about her,” you protested. “How hard could it be to find her?” 

“A bit harder when they’re gonna be seeing something different.” Luke glanced at you. “You said you’ve already dealt with monsters before.” 

You nodded. 

“Do you remember feeling like you were the only one who actually saw what was happening? Like you saw the monster for what it was while it was trying to kill you, and everyone was still freaking out, but not as much as they should have been?” 

You nodded again. 

“Well, that’s a thing. Normal people can’t see what monsters really look like—only we can.” Luke peeked his head around the corner again. “And if she’s shed her disguise, it means she wants to go in for the kill. And it means we’re completely on our own.” 

“We’re not on our own,” you said. “We’ve got each other.” 

Luke found himself smiling. It had been a while since that was true. It had been a while since he’d smiled. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “And it’s harder to kill two half-bloods than one.” 

He poked his head out again and immediately withdrew it, cursing under his breath as he stared up at the ceiling. “I never should have come to this city.”  

“Excuse me?” You stepped away from the wall as your brows furrowed. “Boston is the greatest city in the world.” 

“If you’re gonna be wrong, be wrong quietly,” Luke urged, gesturing with his head for you to get back. “And you are wrong, by the way.” 

“I’m not wrong.” You crossed your arms, refusing to budge. “Did you know that we have the first public park? And the first public school! And we have the T! Where are you even from?” 

“We can talk about this later,” he insisted. “We’re trying to hide. Have you ever hidden before?” 

“We don’t need to hide when you’ve insulted my Commonwealth’s honor,” you said. “Especially when you’re in our aquarium. Where are you from to be talking so badly about the Bay State?” 

“Connecticut,” he finally said, hoping that would get you to finally quiet down, but that only ramped you up further. “Place called Westport.”

“Connecticut?” you marveled, throwing your hands up. “You’re from some podunk town in Connecticut and you’re insulting Boston?” 

“Okay, Westport is not a podunk town—” Luke started, but he didn’t get the chance to finish defending his hometown before he caught sight of their monster—and she’d caught sight of them. 

Luke cursed even harder under his breath with words no nine year old should have known, then he grabbed your hand and pulled you along into a jog, interrupting your immediate protests. 

“She’s got us pinned,” he said, trying to keep his voice low enough to not be detected while making sure you could hear him. “Together, our scent is too strong. We’re not gonna be able to lose her—we’ve gotta kill her.”

“Could the fish help with her knowing where we are?” you asked as you started running with him. “Because they’ll be happy to help us. They don’t like her either.”

Luke did a double take. “What?”

“I can hear what they’re saying,” you said, as if it were completely normal. “It’s a little overwhelming with so many in one place, honestly.”

If they weren’t on the run from a monster, Luke would have worried a bit more about the fact that you were crazy. But he wasn’t awarded those kinds of luxuries these days. 

“We’ll—” Luke let out a sigh, because what did you mean that you could hear what fish were saying (especially because they clearly weren’t conversation prone)— “we’ll get out of here, and get the upper hand, and we’ll kill her. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded. “But Boston is still the greatest city in the world.” 

He huffed, taking his eyes off the path forward for a moment just to look at you. “Are you seriously still on this?” 

“Of course. We also have the greatest baseball team in the country.” You gestured with your free hand. “Do you see how many people here have Red Sox hats on?” 

Luke laughed out of pure shock. Was this the kind of stuff he’d been missing out on while traveling alone? 

“Listen,” he said. “If we get out of this alive, you can tell me all the Red Sox facts you want. But we actually have to work together through all this. Deal?” 

“Deal,” you said immediately. “You’re way more focused than I am.” 

Luke let out a loose breath and shook his head. “Well, I’ve had to be. Do you have a weapon?” 

“I took a kitchen knife before I left,” you said, “just to be safe. It’s worked pretty well.” 

“Do you know how to use it?” 

“I’m really good at chopping vegetables,” you said. “And I killed a monster with it the other day.” 

“Glowing reviews,” Luke chuckled. “I’m pretty good with my sword, so we should be okay.” 

“You’ve got a sword? How?” 

“...My dad left it for me before he left,” Luke said. “I guess he wanted to do one good thing for me in his life.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said. Luke offered a tight smile. 

“Doesn’t matter much anymore,” he said. “Soon as we get outside, we get to the street and get to some empty alley. We hide on either side, wait for her to find us, then take her down. Okay?” 

You nodded resolutely. “Let’s do it.”

The beginning of the plan wasn’t too difficult. Your faces would probably be plastered all over the place once the staff realized you were missing, but that was a problem for another day. You knew the area well so you took charge—and you took the time to spout random facts about the city on your way, of course, like a nine-year-old tour guide—and soon enough they were indeed in an empty alleyway. 

You and Luke stood on each side, weapons in your grasp now that you weren’t surrounded by a whole aquarium of people, and he watched as you stared straight ahead, trying to keep your breathing steady. Besides the whole hearing fish thing, you seemed pretty well-adjusted for where you were. 

But then again—you’d only been at this for a week, and the way you talked about your mom, your home life was the complete opposite of his. 

Luke shook his head. It didn’t matter what your life was like—you both ended up in the same place. 

His thoughts were mercifully ended when Luke heard sharp nails scratching against the brick of the alleyway. He grimaced, his grip tightening on his sword, and he looked over at you. Your eyes were slightly wide, but you nodded when he did. You were ready. 

“You two are clever,” the monster sang, her voice just as grating as her nails against the wall, “but I never miss a meal. And those measly workers just wouldn’t sate my appetite.” 

Her steps got closer and closer, and Luke held his breath. Right before she would be able to see you both, he yelled, “Now!” 

You were out first, immediately lashing at her with your knife. She took the cut against her shoulder and slashed at you in turn, but you dodged out of the way, giving Luke a chance to come in with his sword. But his angle was off, and she deflected the blow then sunk her claws into his arm. Luke cried out, landing a kick on her chest as he ripped himself out of her grasp, but her focus was already back on you. 

You stabbed at her with your knife and actually landed it in her chest, but it wasn’t Celestial bronze—all it did was make her angrier. She screeched and tackled you to the ground, knife still sticking out of her, claws poised to rip your throat out. You grit your teeth as you wrestled her arms away from you, but your strength was fading fast. 

Luke’s eyes widened and he grabbed his sword from the ground. He wouldn’t make it in time, but you could. 

He called out your name and threw his sword, and you didn’t even have to look to snatch it out of the air. Storms raged in your eyes as you stabbed the monster through the side.

“You shouldn’t have come here, dearie,” you spat. 

The monster’s scream dissolved with the wind as she exploded into dust, dousing you in yellow powder. The sword fell out of your grip as you coughed, and you just laid on the ground, drained.  

“Gross,” you grumbled. 

Luke wiped his hand across his forehead as he fought to catch his breath, ignoring the blood seeping down his arm. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you said between coughs. “I’m great.” 

Luke went over and offered his hand, and he pulled you up after you took it. “I’m so sorry. I guess I’m a little rusty.” 

“Neither of us are dead, are we? I’d say it went pretty well.” You grimaced as you wiped the powder off your face, groaning again. “This is gonna take forever to get off.” 

Luke chuckled as he took his backpack off and took out a towel, which you accepted gratefully. A demigod always had to be prepared. “You say you’ve only been on your own for a week?”

You nodded as you started cleaning your face and arms off. “Not my first monster, though.”

“It never is,” he murmured. Luke tipped his head back towards the sun and closed his eyes, letting out one final, long breath as the buzz from battle started to fade. And along with that, his adrenaline—the wound on his arm began to sting, and he sighed. He really didn’t feel like dealing with that. 

“You’re hurt,” you said, and Luke opened his eyes. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “They’re surface level.” 

You frowned. “Are you sure?” 

“I’ve stitched myself up a few times, and this doesn’t need them,” he said, his lip curling at the memory. He was not a very good doctor. “I have some first aid stuff in my bag—once we get out of here, I’ll fix it up.” 

“You said we,” you said. 

Luke blinked. “I did?” 

You nodded. “When we get out of here.” 

He blinked again. He didn’t even notice—didn’t even really think about where you would go after the monster was dead. It was kinda sad, but Luke was pretty sure he’d smiled and talked more in this one hour with you than the past few months on his own. He’d already started thinking of you and him as a collective. 

“What d’you think, then?” he asked. “You wanna stick together?” 

You frowned. “You’re willing to kick it with a girl you just met?”

He shrugged. “You fight well, obviously. And you’re way better at making people feel bad for you than I am. That’s useful when you’ve got nothing.”

“We’re kids on our own,” you said. “It’s not that hard to get pity points.”

“I’ve been told I’m… abrasive,” Luke said. “Besides, I like you already. You were arguing for your baseball team while running for your life. It’s annoying, but impressive.”

“People also say that about me,” you said sagely. Luke smiled and held out his hand more. 

“So? You wanna join forces?”

You stared at it for a while. “Even if I spend the next couple of hours telling you all about the Red Sox?”

Luke chuckled. “I did say you could if we got out of this alive. And I feel pretty alive.” 

It took you another second, but you nodded intently and shook his hand. “Then you’ve got yourself a deal, Luke.” 

“Glad to hear it,” he said, his smile widening. 

You handed him the towel and he went to put it back in his bag when he saw the… souvenir he’d taken before you left the gift shop. He grabbed the whale plushie that had been on his mind all day and held it out to you. “Here.”

You frowned. “When did you even have the time to get this? You definitely didn’t pay for it.”

“Idle hands are the devil’s playthings,” he said. “They won’t miss it. It’s a much better use marking the start of our friendship. Besides,” Luke shrugged, “you did say you wanted a souvenir.” 

You smiled as you took it. “Looks like we’re a trio, then.”

“Welcome to the team,” he said with a grin. “It’s a small one, but I think we’ll make it work.”

“Me too,” you nodded. “And it’ll be nice not being alone.”

Luke thought back to all the nights spent sleeping under bridges, commandeering benches, purposefully choosing overnight buses so he would have somewhere to rest. Constantly watching his back because he had no one else, wondering if each night he camped in the woods would be his last. 

He looked at you, a girl who ran away from home because she didn’t want to hurt her mom. Your clothes were covered in yellow monster dust, sweat dripped down your forehead, and Luke had nearly gotten you killed—but you were still smiling. And he found himself smiling too. 

“Yeah,” Luke murmured. “It will be.” 

[sturnslcver]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ virulent love (series) ˚.°: ₊˚ ୨

— chris sturniolo x fem reader —

— warnings, drinking, smoking, pills!

a/n: couldn’t figure out what i wanted to do for chris and y/n’s meet cute so it is heavily based off of a real life book i read, but ive already finished the rest of the story/chapters and it is all my own original ideas! enjoy! :)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˚.°: ₊˚ ୨

i creep up the stairs in search for my brothers apartment door. this place seems more like a historic hotel than an apartment complex, with its expansive columns and marble floors. when arlo said i could stay with him after hearing about another one of moms manic episodes, i had no idea he lived like an actual adult. I thought it’d be more similar to the last time i visited him, right after i graduated from high school, back when he had first started dealing. however, that was four years ago and a two story skimpy complex ago. that’s kind of what i was expecting. i certainly wasn’t anticipating this orderly area in the middle of downtown massachusetts. I spent all of last week packing up everything i own from mom’s house back in florida. luckily, i don’t own much. but after taking a five hundred mile drive alone today, my exhaustion is pretty obvious in my reflection. my hair is in a unsecured knot on top of my head, held together by a pencil, since I couldn't find a hair tie while I was driving. i reach into my purse to find chapstick, hoping to recover my lips before they end up as weary-looking as the rest of me. I pull my phone out of my pocket and open up my messages to arlo.

i can't remember which apartment number he said was his. it’s either 1372 or 1374. maybe it's 1372? i come to a stop at 1372, because there's a guy passed out on the floor of the hallway, leaning against the door to 1374. please don't let it be 1374. i find the message on my phone and cringe. it's 1374. of course it is.

i walk slowly to the door, hoping I don't wake up the guy. his legs are sprawled out in front of him, and he's leaning with his back propped up against arlo’s door. his chin is tucked to his chest, and he's snoring. "excuse me" i say, my voice just above a whisper. he doesn't move. i lift my leg and poke his shoulder with my foot. "i need to get into this apartment." he rustles and then slowly opens his eyes and stares straight ahead at my legs. his eyes meet my knees, and his eyebrows furrow as he slowly leans forward with a deep scowl on his face. he lifts a hand and pokes my knee with his finger, almost as if he's never seen a knee before. he drops his hand, closes his eyes, and falls back asleep against the door. great. arlo won't be back until tomorrow, so i dial his number to see if this guy is someone i should be concerned about. “y/n?" he asks, answering his phone without a hello. "yep," i reply. "made it safe, but i can't get in because there's a drunk guy passed out at your front door." "thirteen seventy four?" he asks. "you sure you're at the right apartment?" "positive." "are you sure he's drunk?" "positive." "weird," he says. "what’s he wearing?" "why do you want to know what he's wearing?" "if he's wearing a yellow shirt and goggles on his head he’s probably the janitor. the janitor in our complex is homeless" this guy isn't wearing any type of goggles, but i can't help but notice that his jeans and black hoodie do fit him very nicely. "no goggles," i say. “can you get past him without waking him up?" "i’d have to move him. he’ll fall inside if I open the door." he’s quiet for a few seconds while he thinks. "go back downstairs and wait in the lobby until someone can let you in" i sigh, because ive been driving for six hours, and going all the way back downstairs is not something I feel like doing right now.

“just stay on the phone with me until I'm inside your apartment" i like my plan a lot better. i balance my phone against my ear with my shoulder and dig inside my purse for the key arlo sent me. i insert it into the lock and begin to open the door, but the drunk guy begins to fall backward with every inch the door opens. he groans, but his eyes don't open again. "it’s too bad he's wasted," i tell arlo. "he’s not bad-looking." "can you just get your ass inside and lock the door so i can hang up." i roll my eyes. i’m hoping things will be different between us now that mom’s in the hospital. she was always turning us against one another. for example, by the time i was eleven, i’d saved up three hundred dollars so that i could finally get a pet hamster. she ended up stealing it and spending it on pills. she told me arlo stole it.

i wrap my purse around my shoulder, but it gets caught on my suitcase handle, so i just let it fall to the floor. i keep my left hand wrapped tightly around the doorknob and hold the door shut so the guy won't fall completely into the apartment. i take my foot and press it against his shoulder, pushing him from the center of the doorway. he doesn't budge. “arlo, he's too heavy. i’m gonna have to hang up so I can use both hands." “no, don't hang up. just put the phone in your pocket, but don't hang up." i look down at the oversized shirt and leggings I have on. “no pockets. you’re going in the bra." arlo laughs as i pull the phone from my ear and shove it inside my bra. i remove the key from the lock and drop it toward my purse, but it misses and falls to the floor. i reach down to grab the drunk guy so I can move him out of the way. “okay" I say, struggling to pull him away from the center of the doorway. "sorry." i somehow manage to prop him up against the doorframe to prevent him from falling into the apartment, and then i push the door open farther and turn to get my things.

something warm wraps around my ankle. i freeze. i look down. “let go!" i yell, kicking at the hand that's gripping my ankle so tightly I'm pretty sure it might bruise. the drunk guy is looking up at me now, and his grip sends me falling backward into the apartment when I try to pull away from him. "i need to get in there” , he mutters, just as my butt meets the floor. he makes an attempt to push the apartment door open with his other hand, and this immediately sends me into panic mode. i pull my legs the rest of the way inside, and his hand comes with me. i use my free leg to kick the door shut, slamming it directly onto his wrist. “fuck!" he yells. he’s trying to pull his hand back into the hallway with him, but my foot is still pressing against the door. i release enough pressure for him to have his hand back, and then i immediately kick the door all the way shut.

i pull myself up and lock the door, the dead bolt, and the chain lock as quickly as i can. as soon as my heart rate begins to calm down, it starts to scream at me. my heart is actually screaming at me. in a deep male voice. It sounds like it's calling my name. arlo. i immediately look down at my chest and pull my phone out of my bra, then bring it up to my ear. "hello!" i wince, then pull the phone several inches from my ear. "i’m fine," i say, out of breath. "i’m inside. i locked the door." “okay" he says, relieved. "you scared me. what the hell happened?" “he was trying to get inside. i locked the door, though." i flip on the living-room light and take no more than three steps inside before i come to a halt. i slowly turn back toward the door after realizing what ive done. “arlo?" i pause. "i left a few things outside that i need. i would just grab them, but the drunk guy is still trying to get in, so there's no way I'm opening the door again. what do i do?” he’s silent for a few seconds. "what did you leave in the hallway?" i don't want to answer him, but i do. "my suitcase...and purse." “why the hell is your purse outside?" "i also left the key on the hallway floor." he doesn't even respond to that one. he just groans. "i’ll call chris and see if he's home yet. give me two minutes." "wait. who’s chris ?" "he lives across the hall. whatever you do, don't open the door again until i call you back." arlo hangs up, and i lean against his front door. i’ve lived in massachusetts all of thirty minutes. my phone rings. i slide my thumb across the screen and answer it.

"hey." "y/n?" "yeah?," i reply, wondering why he always double-checks to see if it's me. he called me, so who else would be answering it who sounds exactly like me? "i called chris." “good. is he gonna help me get my stuff?" "not exactly," arlo says. "i kind of need you to do me a huge favor." my head falls against the door again. i have a feeling the next few months are going to be full of inconvenient favors, since he knows he's doing me a huse one by letting me stay here. "what?" i ask him. "chris kind of needs your help." "the neighbor?" i pause as soon as it clicks, and i close my eyes. "arlo, please don't tell me the guy you called to protect me from the drunk guy is the drunk guy." arlo sighs. "i need you to unlock the door and let him in. let him crash on the couch. i’ll be there first thing in the morning. when he sobers up, he'll know where he is, and he'll go straight home." i shake my head. "what kind of apartment complex is this? should i prepare to be groped by drunk people every time I come home?" long pause. "he groped you?" "groped might be a bit strong. he did grab my ankle, though." arlo lets out a sigh. "just do this for me. call me back when you've got him and all your stuff inside." "fine." i groan, recognizing the worry in his voice.

i hang up on arlo and open the door. the drunk guy falls onto his shoulder, and his cell phone slips from his hand and lands on the floor next to his head. i flip him onto his back and look down at him. he cracks his eyes open and attempts to look up at me, but his eyelids fall shut again. "You're not arlo," he mutters. "no. i’m not. i’m your new neighbor." i lift him by his shoulders and try to get him to sit up, but he doesn't. i don't think he can, actually. how does a person even get this drunk? i grab his hands and pull him inch by inch into the apartment, stopping when he's just far enough inside for me to be able to close the door. i retrieve all of my things from outside the apartment, then shut and lock the front door. i grab a throw pillow from the couch, prop his head up, and roll him onto his side in case he pukes in his sleep. and that's all the help he's getting from me. when he's comfortably asleep in the middle of the living room floor, i leave him there while I look around the apartment.

the living room alone could fit three of the living rooms from arlos last apartment. arlo said he'd be back in the morning, so i’ll leave that to him. normally, i would be nervous about the fact that there's a stranger in the same apartment I'm in, but i have a feeling i don't need to worry. arlo would never ask me to help someone he felt might be a threat to me in any way. which confuses me, because if this is common behavior for chris, i’m surprised arlo asked me to bring him inside.

i head back to the living room to turn out the lights, but when ive rounded the corner, i come to an immediate halt. not only is chris up off the floor, but he's in the kitchen, with his head pressed against his arms and his arms folded on top of the kitchen counter. he’s seated on the edge of a bar stool, and he looks as if he's about to fall off it any second. i can't tell if he's sleeping again or just attempting to recover. "chris?" he doesn't move when i call his name, so i walk toward him and gently lay my hand on his shoulder to shake him awake. the second my fingers squeeze his shoulder, he gasps and sits up straight as if I just woke him from the middle of a dream. or a nightmare. immediately, he slides off the stool and onto very unstable legs. he begins to sway, so i throw his arm over my shoulder and try to walk him out of the kitchen. "come on." he drops his forehead to the side of my head and stumbles along with me, making it even harder to hold him up. we make it to the front of the couch, and i start to peel him off me. "okay, chris. whoever you are. just go to sleep." he falls onto the couch, but he doesn't let go of my shoulders. i fall with him and immediately attempt to pull away. i gently push him back into the couch, yanking my hand away. i lay his pillow down and urge him onto it. "go to sleep, chris," i say gently.

his eyelids are heavy and watering when he drops to the pillow. he grabs my hand and hums. his eyes fall shut again, and he releases a heavy sigh. i stare at him silently, allowing him to keep hold of my hand until he's quiet and still. i pull my hand away from his, but i stay by his side for a few minutes longer. even though he's asleep, he somehow still looks as if he's on edge. his eyebrows are furrowed, and his breathing is sporadic, failing to fall into a peaceful pattern. when he makes another half conscious effort to reach for my hand, i finally give in. i place my cheek on top of our hands and lean into the couch. i fall asleep on the floor next to him.

@sturnsmadison @ryli3sworld @sunnysturniolos @ariologyy @sturncakez @sturnsxplr-25 @nickmillersn1gf

[anyarose011]

You're a Mean One, Miss Hunham {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Four days into being stuck in an all boy's school for Christmas break, and you're on the brink of insanity. If it's not because of Angus Tully still trying to one up you in history lessons, then it's Teddy Kountze getting a hand on something personal of yours (prick).

Part 2 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, period typical sexism, mentions of pornography, blackmail, minor physical assault, and as always, Teddy Kountze.

You guys don't get to escape being an awkward af teenager just because it's fanfiction, so enjoy! Also, thank you all so much for the love already shown just from the first part alone!

Word Count: 5.0k

You always knew to put a pillow over your head when you heard your father get up from his bed.

“All right you fetid layabouts, it’s daylight in the swamp!” He smacked two metal basins against each other, waking the boys up if they weren’t already, groaning. “Arise!”

It was funny the first day, but by the fourth, it was unbearable. Still, a part of you was grateful for your father; you never had to get up early and run with the boys in the cold, Massachusetts air. Call it nepotism, call it sexism, you were just glad he didn’t want you to interact with them (physically, that is).

The second day you were there, he called you in during afternoon study hall (leaving you on a minor cliff hanger in Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre; forget that it was your third time reading it, it pissed you off). Just like he had done months ago, Paul Hunham hosted a trivia game (whether that was to show you off, or get them to study, you had no idea).

What idea you did have, was beating every single one of them.

For Alex and Ye-Joon, they were babies in your eyes, so you would give them more time to think on their answers whenever they were up. Alex got close on one, but overall, they didn’t do so well.

Oh, the boys your age? Yeah, you didn’t show mercy, even towards Jason.

“When was the last king overthrown?” Your father questioned.

You smacked the desk before Jason could even process the question. “509 B.C.”

“What planets are named after Roman gods?”

“Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn.” You recited it perfectly.

Teddy scrunched his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

Your father pursed his lips. “That was the easiest one I have, Mr. Kountze.”

Angus Tully…Angus. Fucking. Tully.

“What emperor temporarily restored peace to Rome and the cost of-?”

Angus hit the desk before your father could finish the question. “-Diocletian.”

“At its peak,” your father eyed you. “how large was the Roman Empi-?”

“2.3 million square miles.” You answered, keeping your eyes trained on Tully.

“Nero had five spouses in total, what was the name of the slave boy he-?”

“-Castrated and married,” you finished for him. “Sporus.”

Back and forth you both went like that, rapid fire at first, and your own levels of exhaustion were catching up to you. After perhaps five minutes of this (maybe ten, twenty, who gives a shit, you were tired), it was one damning question that would haunt you.

“True or false, the Pantheon was built before the Coliseum.”

“True.” You said, slapping the desk with the confidence of a mediocre man.

There was silence in the room, and your father sighed. “False.”

It wasn’t a big deal, it shouldn’t have been a big deal; to literally everyone else but you, it wouldn’t be a big deal.

But it was.

Oh, it was.

It was the second time you lost to Angus Tully overall, the first time from an easy question. Still, while Kountze’s grin made you want to rip out his teeth, it was Tully’s outstretched hand that caused you to snap out of it.

“Good job.”

Two of the most hurtful words in academia, whether it meant for it to be or not. Still, swallowing your pride, you shook his hand, and left the room gracefully.

Then started crying as you walked down the darkened hallway.

It wasn’t like you were weeping, you were just frustrated. Thankfully, by the time your friend Elise came to pick you up, you were fine and had a fun day simply walking around town with her.

You bought cigarettes and chocolate at the drug store, then spent the rest of the day at her house, laying on the floor and listening to records in her room while answering her prodding questions.

“Who’s the cutest one?”

“None, they’re men.”

“Okay,” she rolled her eyes, smiling. “I know that, but if you had to choose.”

“Like, ‘if we were the last man and woman on earth’ I had to choose?”

“Sure.”

“A very tall bridge.”

She laughed, shoving you playfully. “I’m serious!”

“So am I.”

“Really.”

Sighing heavily, you thought for a moment, before smiling. “He’s a football player.”

“What?!” She sat herself up. “You and a football player?!”

“Shut up!” You laughed with her, sitting up.

Elise shook her head. “What about the one you went head-to-head with in trivia today?”

“Ew,” was your immediate reaction. “he’s maybe your type, but not mine.”

“So, you don’t want a smart one?” She questioned. “And that’s mean of you.”

“I’m mean to everyone.” You laid back down on the floor. “And yes, of course I want someone who’s smart, but not smarter than me.”

She mirrored you, laying down and leaning her head against yours. “So, he’s out for the count?”

“One hundred percent.”

“If you say so.” Elise reached up onto her nightstand and handed you a letter. “Also, my aunt left something back at the faculty housing and said she found this in you and your dad’s mailbox.”

You looked at your name in the center of it, and then at the stamp: a toy train.

It took everything within you not to sit up in shock. All you did was smile, say thank you, and slip it into your coat pocket.

You gave Tully his chocolates and cigarettes and didn’t have a problem. It was the fourth day when your father had given them just another ounce of freedom outside of the school, allowing them to walk around the wooded area of campus. You still had your books, but you were also feeling lonesome (the only time you really interacted with any of them was during mealtimes, except for Teddy…fuck Teddy), and you had talked about almost every single thing you wanted to talk about with Mary (God bless that women for letting you read to her too).

So, on December 20th, you laced up your boots (not too tightly), pulled on your mittens, and zipped up your jacket to go on a miniature adventure with the five boys.

“I’m gonna teach you how to play football.” Jason teased you as the six of you walked two by two (you and him at the front).

Shaking your head, you smiled more so at the thought of what you’d look like than his obvious flirting (was he even flirting or just being nice? Decades pass, and you still aren’t sure). “Please no.”

“Come on, it’s easy.”

“Roman history is easy.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not; you’re just smart.”

“It’s easy to me. Football is easy to you, see what I’m getting at?”

Jason shrugged. “Suit yourself, Teddy?”

“Say no more.” He responded, brushing past you and running up ahead as Jason threw the football to him and he caught it.

That left you by yourself for just a moment before seeing Angus walk beside you. You turned your head over your shoulder to see Ye-Joon and Alex lagging behind as they talked.

“Boys,” you called them. “try and keep up!”

They responded with a chorus of ‘Yeah’s and ‘Sorry’s.

“So what, you’re like their mother now?” The second most irritating voice belonging to a boy asked.

You looked over at Angus, hands in his pockets as he gazed down at you. “You’re not exactly the nurturing type.”

“You don’t know that.”

Humming, you stepped over a log in the middle of the path. “So, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Jason’s here because of his hair, Alex and Ye-Joon’s family are in other continents, I don’t care nor want to know about Teddy, why are you here?”

He didn’t respond right away, before then saying. “I was supposed to go to St. Kitt’s with my mom and stepfather, but then they decided to say it was their honeymoon and ditch me.”

Your gaze turned to him and saw him pick up a stick, dragging it behind him to make a line in the snow. Even just from his profile, you could see the anger withing his eyes; bubbling more violently than a volcano about to erupt.

“That’s despicable.” You stated plainly.

“That’s one way to put it.” He scoffed.

You didn’t know exactly how to follow up such a personal conversation, but you wanted to make him feel better (at this point during the break, only because it was the decent thing to do), so you just said.

“You beat me fair and square both times.”

Angus looked at you. “Did I? At your dad’s bullshit trivia?”

“You did. Well actually, it was just me versus five of you, and I do believe the more I talk to Kountze, the more braincells I lose, so-.”

“-Don’t sell yourself short.”

You gave him a quizzical look. “I know, I was just telling you why I lost to you both times.”

He shrugged. “The first time you had to go against fifteen of us.”

“I’m sorry,” you chuckled, genuinely not believing it. “are you suddenly saying that you think I’m smart?”

“I never said you weren’t.” He gave you a look.

“Last time, you looked me in the eye and said you knew more than me.”

That’s what silenced him, and when he nor you said anything after that, you simply walked ahead of him. Hell yeah, you had the last word and made him feel like an asshole (you honestly didn’t know that was possible).

The six of you all caught up with one another, and you spoke with the freshmen boys more about meaningless things (but perhaps that’s what made it so meaningful). Angus, still carrying the stick like he was a child, and it was his favorite toy, said to Jason after talking about if there was anything else to do in Barton.

“What about your car? We could take it, go somewhere, Boston maybe?”

“Nah, we’d get in so much trouble.” He shook his head, nudging you. “Little miss perfect here would snitch on us.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. “I would not. Besides, it’d be easier to say you all kidnapped me, and everyone would believe me.”

“Face it,” Jason passed the football back to Teddy. “we’re stuck.”

 “If we just had some way to get out of here.” Angus kicked a patch of snow. “Just split.”

Jason pointed towards the quad. “Well, you could put a chopper down right in the quad.”

“A what?” Angus furrowed his brow.

“Helicopter, dumbass.” Teddy mocked. “His old man’s the CEO of Pratt and Whitney.”

Jason nodded. “Yeah, he’s go his own bird. He takes it from Stamford to the city every morning. Lands right in our back yard. Pilot’s name is Wild Bill.”

“Wild Bill?” Ye-Joon asked, amused.

“Yeah, flew to Haystack with it. Took the presents and everything. Minus me.”

“Flying with presents,” Alex spoke up. “like Santa Claus.”

That was perhaps the first time you smiled out of geniuses that day.

“Yeah. Just like Santa Claus.”

Jason whistled, and Teddy immediately dashed ahead of him and caught the ball once Jason threw it. The two drifted off playing catch, leaving you and Angus with the freshmen. Alex spoke just as whimsically as he did about Santa.

“If I was back home right now back in Provo, it would be really warm inside, and my mom would be making baked apples, and the whole house would smell like cinnamon and brown sugar.”

Ye-Joon smiled. “That sounds really nice.”

You nodded. “During finals week, I helped Mary and the other cooks bake cookies for you guys. I still think that’s one of my favorite smells of all time.”

“You helped out with that?” Angus asked.

Dropping your smile, you said. “Yeah, and if I knew which one you’d have taken I would’ve spat in it.”

Before he could even come up with a response, Teddy ran up to Alex and yanked the glove off his right hand. “Hey!”

“That’s what you get for ratting me out, you little Mormon!” He laughed before throwing it into the river.

You marched up to him immediately. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! Like, what the actual fuck?”

Teddy only stuck his tongue out like a child before running back to catch up with Jason. A part of you (somehow) foolishly believed he would’ve berated Teddy for the obviously asshole act; but he didn’t.

Rolling your eyes, you went down to the river with Alex, hopefully trying to find the glove and be able to fish it out. Though, to no avail, you couldn’t find it.

“It’s gone!” He yelled back up to Angus and Ye-Joon. “My glove’s gone!”

“Twisted fucker orphaned that glove on purpose!” Angus responded. “Left you with one so the loss would sting that much more.”

Alex looked down at his hands before tugging off the other glove and throwing it into the river as well. You glared at Teddy as he had a fun time, still laughing and throwing the ball with Jason. Sighing, you looked back down at Alex and pulled off your mittens, handing them to him.

“Here.”

He glanced up at you before staring back out at the water, rubbing his nose. “I don’t need them.”

“Your fingers are frailer than mine.” You continued even when he gave you a look. “That’s not an insult, that’s a fact. It’s alright, I have pockets.”

Alex, after a moment of debating, took them from you and slipped them on, smiling. “Thanks.”

The six of you were on your way back to school when you felt someone slip their hand into your coat pocket.

“Now what do we have here?”

You turned on your heel, seeing Teddy’s face light up as he waved the letter in his hand. Your face dropped, along with your voice.

“No!”

Immediately, you began to chase him around the small, snowy clearing as if you were a dog and he was a car.

“Theodore fucking Kountze, give that back!” You commanded.

He ripped open the envelope. “Or what, Hunham? You’re gonna tell your dad on me?”

“Just give her the letter, idiot.” Angus rolled his eyes.

Of course, Kountze ignored him, taking the letter out, and money falling from the paper. That’s when he stopped in his tracks and so did you. For the first time since…a while, you were frozen, and you had no idea why.

The rest of the boys caught up to you two, and Teddy picked up the money that fell from the letter; a twenty, a ten, and a five-dollar bill. After the initial shock wore off, he read the letter aloud to everyone.  

“‘My dearest girl, how are you? It’s been a while, and I just want to know what you’ve been up to. Merry Christmas, here’s my gift to you. From, Daniel. P.S. Please send another picture of you if you could.’”

Shame crept in like a shaking animal from the cold, and you couldn’t even look at any of them. Still, that didn’t stop Teddy from taunting you; hell, it probably spurred him on.

“The hell kind of business are you running if you got a someone paying you thirty-five bucks?” He laughed, looking back at the guys. “You think she’s in a skin mag or something?”

“Hey, man, shut up.” Jason rebuked.

“No, I’m serious. They take pictures without showing the face sometimes.” He looked at you now. “Which one is it? Penthouse? Modern Man?”

“Leave it, Kountze.” You hissed, not looking at him.

Teddy laughed. “Don’t tell me it’s Playboy; you?”

 “Are you fucking deaf?” Angus asked. “She told you to cut it out.”

“Piss off Tully, you probably saw her tits this morning in study hall.”

You whipped your head around and couldn’t control the face you made; to this day, you still have no idea if it was pure rage, a form of betrayal, or both at once. Still, you watched as how Angus avoided your gaze like he’d done something wrong; he did, but still. Teddy opened his disgusting mouth to speak again.

“Shit, if I were to line up every girl in Barton, you would’ve been the very last one I-.”

“-I’ll let you take the picture.”

All eyes were back on you, and you looked right at Teddy’s; once confident and sly, now widened with surprise. Who knew it would take just six words for him to shut up?

“What?” Was all he responded.

You swallowed thickly, clutching your hands into fists to keep yourself calm (and to not cry). “I’ll let you take the picture of me, but we have to be alone, and you need to promise me you won’t tell anyone else; especially my father.”

This was not what you had envisioned or wanted to happen on your first outing with them away from the adults in your life. You prayed to whatever god above, Christian, Roman, Greek, Buddhist, it didn’t matter, you prayed that Teddy would grow a brain and take the deal.

“Alright.” Was all he said, shrugging with an excited smile on his face that made your skin crawl.

You nodded. “I’ll take my letter and money now.”

He tilted his head, walking closer to you. “Please.”

Taking a deep breath, you said. “Please.”

Teddy’s grin only deepened, then handed you your things. “You know, Hunham, maybe you’re not a total prude after-.”

Your fist met his eye, and the both of you stumbled backwards; him clutching his face, you your hand. Needless to say, you were both cursing. Still, you managed to gather your bearings and push him over.

“Fucking bastard.” You spat before trying to make a run for it.

Teddy grabbed your left foot, causing you to fall into the snow, your teeth sinking into your lip once you hit your chin on impact of the ground. You struggled, then managed to quickly wiggle out of your boot before getting back up and running like a girl (anyone would run like a girl if they were being chased by a man like Teddy Kountze).

You honestly have no idea how he didn’t catch up to you at the time, but you were on the steps of the main building when you turned back. There they were, just five, not-so-little specks that stood out across the valley of pure white snow. It was only when you slowed down did you notice how cold your left foot was. Your sock was dripping wet from the snow, and you then pulled off your other boot, leaving it on the stairs before entering the school.

Taking a deep breath once you closed the door, you wiped your mouth; specks of blood colored your hand, but thankfully, not that much. Sighing, you walked through the halls of the school, trying to make your way back to the infirmary and hoping that your father wasn’t there.

You ran into Mary instead (a fate worse than death).

“Where are your shoes?” Was the first thing she asked once she saw you in the main hall (you got lost; hey, you’d only been there a few times in the past, don’t be too hard on yourself).

You shrugged, smiling. “We were playing a game.”

“What kind of game?”

“Hide and seek tag.” you leaned against the wall, hands in your coat pockets. “First one to get to the school wins, I hid my shoes under a bush, so they thought I was there, and I made a run for it.”

“You take a fall then? Your mouth’s bleeding.”

“You’re telling me you’ve never slipped on ice?” You managed to joke.

She arched her brow, placing her hands on her hips. “Do you know how long I’ve known you?”

It actually took you a few moments to think back on it; it felt like you’ve known her longer, but no. “Since I was nine?”

“And do you think, in the last eight years, I haven’t been able to tell if you’re a bad liar or not?”

“…Well, am I?”

“Did one of those boys put their hands on you?” She asked the question you both knew was coming. “Was it that shitass Kountze?”

Even with it being a serious question, you laughed (both from surprise and discomfort). “Well like, you should see the hands I put on him. Mary, we were just playing, it’s fine.”

The main door opened before she could say anything else, and you saw the same five boys walk in; Ye-Joon holding your boots. You smiled, approaching them as if nothing was wrong, and you took your shoes. “Thank you.”

He nodded, quickly looking away.

“You all should be ashamed of yourselves.” Mary spoke up behind you, and your heart dropped for a moment as well as all of their faces. “I get that you were playing a game, but you don’t need to be so competitive.”

They turned to one another, obviously confused about the whole thing (you were as well). Still, she continued. “Yeah, little miss Hunahm told me everything. Hide and seek, tag, I don’t care what it was, you all need to be just careful with each other. Poor girl over here took a fall, and I see you did too, mister Kountze.”

At his name, Teddy turned away. Angus spoke up. “We’ll be careful next time, miss Lamb.”

“Please, we’re on vacation; just Mary.” She looked at you. “You’re gonna help me with dinner later, right?”

“I will.”

“Good, stay out of trouble.”

“No promises.”

With that, Mary left through one of the doors leading to the teacher’s lounge. The moment she did, Teddy hissed at you.

“What the hell was that?!”

Rolling your eyes you said. “Didn’t you hear? We were playing a stupid game.”

“You mean you punched me in the face.”

“You blackmailed me into doing something I wouldn’t have wanted to do; we can keep going.”

“It’s not my fault you’re a-.”

“-A what?”

He stopped to your surprise, then changed his tone. “I just don’t think your father would be proud of the choices you’ve made.”

On one hand, damn, those words cut deep enough to almost make you bleed; but on the other hand…

“Are you gonna tell him?” You asked, trying not to sound like you gave a shit.

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “I mean, unless you’re gonna say sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You laughed. “Beating the shit out of you? You started it. Besides, who’s he going to believe?”

Silence was what you were met with. Even at the sight of his face, you only continued to grin. “Teddy, come on, you start ‘not fights’, we all know. It’s not a hard question, I thought you were smarter than this?”

He sighed. “You.”

“Exactly; you’re my bitch, Kountze.” You walked backwards, a little skip in your step. “Don’t you forget that.”

Turning away, you retreated to the infirmary, grabbing your books and escaping to the library in hopes of not having to see any of them for the rest of the day.

Men…so exhausting.

You managed to disappear into the world of The Yellow Wallpaper (not necessarily lighthearted reading, but it was still interesting) and a chapter of The Two Towers before Mary called you down to help with dinner.

After another strange but not so subtle comment from her (“You know you can be honest with me, right? I am with you.”), it was quiet between the both of you. That’s what you always loved with cooking and baking; the quietness, even if you were with one other person. You both just worked in tandem and it was almost frightening how you would both know to move out of the way of each other without saying a word.

Dinner was uneventful; somehow, your father hadn’t noticed the slight bruising on your lip, or Teddy’s eye (the color would probably start to show as days went on, but that was a future problem for you). Not one of the boys your age talked to you; even then, the freshmen kept to themselves a lot too.

So, it was quite a surprise to you, as there was “supervised leisure time” in the library, when Jason Smith sat across from you at the table.

“Hey.” He said softly.

You looked up from Jane Eyre. “Hello.”

“So…” He almost looked nervous (initially about what, you will never know). “you really gave Teddy shit today.”

Tilting your head to the side, you went. “Yeah? Well…he kind of threatened me.”

“No of course. Just…wow.” He chuckled. “You really held him off.”

Nodding, you honestly had no idea what to think. Was he complementing you? In shock? All you were doing was staying silent at this awkward exchange when he asked. “You okay?”

“Huh?”

“Just that, I can’t really read you right now. Did I say something weird?”

“No.” You shook your head, then said. “Well, yes. Sorry, I just…” You tried again. “Thank you, I think? But um…do you want me to be honest?”

“Sure.”

“I’m kind of…no, I am mad none of you stepped in. Maybe not mad but…I don’t know.”

“Well,” he began. “we told him to stop.”

“So did I, but he didn’t.” You wanted to say, but you only knew saying something true would make it worse (this is why you couldn’t be outnumbered by men; it’d make you scared). Instead, you settled on.

“I know, and thanks, but it still would’ve been nice for some help.”

He shrugged. “You seemed to have it handled.”

Six words you thought (and prayed) you’d never hear again; and he said them with a nonchalant shrug. As if, by now, he was already bored and annoyed with a conversation he had started. Perhaps you were reading too much into that last part, perhaps he didn’t mean to come off as callous; but he was still oblivious at the end of the day.

“Look,” he interrupted your overflowing mind when he saw how much it was affecting you. “if it helps, he tried to run after you when you punched him, but Tully and I held him back.”

You took a deep breath as his words sunk in. Then, you chuckled bitterly. “How nice of you to not let him beat me to a pulp.”

He shook his head. “Come on, don’t be like that.”

“Angry? Pissed off?”

“Irritational.”

Your jaw actually dropped. “What?”

He said your name, shaking his head and lowering his voice as if you both hadn’t been quiet already. “Look, Kountze is a dick, we know that. But come on, he said some horrible stuff, and you punched him. That doesn’t really add up.”

“…He threatened me.”

“You basically invited him to take a picture of you alone. I mean, yeah it was to bate him, but still.”

No further questions, you picked up your book and your jacket. Without another word and ignoring how he tried to call you back with a soft tone of voice as he said your name, you walked out of the library without another thought.

Your father asked you about it of course, but all you said was that Jason spoiled a book you were looking forward to reading. He believed you and wished you goodnight, leaving you to lie in your bed and be stuck in your thoughts until snoring reached your ears.

You waited a few more minutes before you stood up, gathering your blanket to wrap around you. As you walked down the hall, the nagging thought of ‘Do I even feel safe in there?’ invaded your mind when you only realized that you were going to be in a room with both Jason and Teddy. You were outside of the hall for longer than you would imagine, when you heard quiet voices on the other side of the wall.

“…I had an accident.”

“Yeah, you did. Shh, stop crying. If they hear you, they’ll crucify you. Which would be ironic, since you’re Buddhist.”

You had to cover your mouth from the unexpected line. How…strange it was to hear Angus Tully be this comforting. You heard the smaller voice again and heard that it was Ye-Joon.

“I know it’s an excellent school, and my brothers went here. But I miss my family, and I have no friends.” His voice broke at the end, and so did a piece of your heart.

Then, Angus with his words of wisdom, said. “Yeah, well, friends are overrated. I’ll help you hide the sheets in the morning, all right? In the meantime, find a dry spot, and try to get some sleep.”

“Thank you.”

You gave it a few moments, still reeling over the gentleness of it all, before entering into the light of the infirmary room. You knocked lightly on the door frame not to frighten anyone.

Angus turned over his shoulder, and somehow didn’t jump when he saw you.

“Hi.” You greeted.

“Hey.” He responded, trying to act like his common, moody self.

You wanted to acknowledge what you heard; tease him (but not in an unkind way) about him being nice, ask him why, in the dead of night, was he like this and not in the daytime? Still, all you could manage was the basic.

“Is everything alright?”

He nodded. “Yeah, just nightmares, you know.”

“No,” you shook your head, deciding to lighten and grace the room with your sarcasm. “I’ve never had one in my life.”

Angus seemed to catch on, and it surprised you greatly to see him actually smile. “Nobody likes a bragger.”

“So that’s why you don’t have any friends.”

…Too much; too much sarcasm.

Both of your smiles fell, and you wanted nothing more than to shrivel up like a leaf and die in front of him, then have someone sweep out the crumbs of your body and then them on fire in the snow before burying the ashes.

You still can’t believe you came up with that metaphor quicker before you could say. “I’m just gonna…”

He nodded. “Yep.”

“Goodnight.”

“’Night.”

You scurried into the other room and under the covers of the bed. The fear of Teddy and Jason no longer was the thing keeping you up at night in that room; it was the worst possible thing you could’ve said to Angus Tully of all people.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

[glittter-vamp]

E.R Visits | J.B

Warnings/AN: mention of accidents. mentions of injurires. minor adult language. mention of medications. This is pretty longgg. Fluffly joe w/ a bit of angsty reader. sorry if i missed any mistakes.

(NOT MY GIF)

You rode in the ambulance to the hospital after getting T-boned on your way back home from work. A guy in a pick up truck had ran the red light and unfortunately had hit you. You were still conscious but in so much pain in your chest, head and arm. "We're almost there honey!" The blonde EMT says to you. This was not how you wanted to spend your friday. You were eager to go home and watch your Fiancé Joe play the last preseason game before the kick off game here in cinncy was had for the 2023 NFL games next week. Now you were worried that you had internal bleeding, severe head injury and broken bones. The ambulance finally makes it to the hospital and the nurses immediately take over and take you into a room where they check you out. They do a bunch of tests, take X-Rays and MRI's leaving you in a room in the ER. After a while of just sitting there your sister and mom come in running.

"Oh my god! Honey! What- What happened?" Your mom asks with tears in her eyes. "Some asshole ran the red light." You scoff. "Oh my god...where are the doctors?" Your sister asks. "They just took me in for X-Rays and an MRI. I have broken ribs and a broken arm." You sigh. "Knock- Knock!" You hear someone say and you see a doctor and nurse walk in. "Hey doc, this is my mom and sister." You say to her. "Woah, you three could be triplets!" She jokes. "So, good news, no internal bleeding, just a minor concussion. We're going to wrap up your arm and rib though and keep you over night for observation okay?" She says writing away on her clipboard while the nurse prepares stuff for the cast. "Oh thank god." Your mom sighs in relief.

After a very painful process of getting wrapped up and put into a cast they take you upstairs to a proper room. You meet the nursing staff that's going to look after you and you ask your mom for the time. "It's 7:14" She says checking her phone. "It's almost kickoff, can you tune into the game?" You ask your mom but when she tries to turn on the TV, it doesn't do anything. "Sorry sweetie." Your mom pouts. You didn't have your phone because it got lost somewhere in the wreck. "Okay...so I was able to to reach someone in Bengals management, they were going to do their best to get a hold of Joe because I tried calling him and he wasn't answering." Your sister says. "Yeah he leaves his phone in his locker an hour before the game." You say. "This fucking sucks." You sigh. "It'll be okay honey, the important thing is that you're still here." My mom says getting emotional. "Let's... go get a coffee." Your sister says to your mom giving you a look of " I got this." They leave the room and at some point you fall asleep.

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

You feel the door of the room slowly open and your eyes open slowly wondering who was entering. You see blurry the first few blinks and can only make out a tall large figure but your eyes adjust and you almost gasp when you see who it was. "Joe?" You say trying to sit up but your were met with immediate pain making you wince. "Hey woah...stay how you are. Don't go hurting yourself even more now." Joe says softly coming over to sit next to you. You couldn't believe he was here. 'How hard did I hit my head?' You think to yourself.

What the hell are you doing here?" You ask clearly still drowsy from the pain medication. "Well I walked onto the field just to be told my Fiancé was in a car accident and left taking the next flight out of Massachusetts I could find." He says looking at you. His eyes were red and full of worry and stress. "Sorry I ruined your game." You say. "You're kidding right?" He asks looking at you in disbelief. "Y/N... you were in an accident. That game was the last thing I cared about, plus it's a preseason game many QB's sit out on them." He says. You knew that was lie, football always came before everything and anyone. It even came before him but you just remained quiet not wanting to turn this into a fight.

"Where are my mom and sister?" You ask realizing they weren't here anymore. "They just left, met them downstairs. The security guy didn't want to let me in because it's after visiting hours, so your mom and sister went off on him. "Must be a browns fan." You say making Joe chuckle. "I'm so glad you're okay, I don't ever think I've felt that fear before after I was told you had been in an accident." Joe says and you look over to him. "You getting soft on me Burrow?" You tease him and he gives you a small smile. "You should go home and get some rest, I'll most likely get out of here in the morning anyway." You say. "I'm not leaving you." He scoffs. "Yeah you can't leave anyway..." you bite your lip and he raises his eyebrow at you. "I was in your car..." you say and he laughs. "I know, my insurance called me." He nods.

******************* "Okay... nice and easy..." Joe says as he helps you sit down on the couch. You were finally home. Your mom picked you guys up from the hospital and since you couldn't get up the stairs due to your broken ribs and aching body, Joe had set up the couch nicely for you with pillows and blankets. "Your sister should be here with the food any minute, I'm gonna run out to get her prescription. Do you guys need anything?" Your mom asks. "Can you bring oreos, double stuffed. Someone here ate them all last week." You say looking at Joe who just shrugged. "Sure thing honey, I'll be back." She says patting your shoulder.

"Don't you have practice today?" You ask Joe as he hands you the tv remote. "I told coach I'm going to be out all week." He says. "Joe, the season is about to officially start. You can't miss practice." You say looking at him. "You took off three weeks of work when I tore my ACL, what's the issue?" He shrugs. "Yeah my job that has two other people also doing my same job. You can't miss practice or the first game this week Joe. Yo have a whole team counting on you" You shake your head.

"Well, thankfully that's not your decision to make. Now just relax, I have to go call my lawyers and insurance company, apparently the guy was wasted so we're taking this to court." He says getting his phone out of his pocket. "You don't have to do all that, it's just a car- The hell I don't, Y/N. You could of been killed! This isn't about the damn car, now it's really making me upset how much you think I care more about football and the damn car than I do the woman I'm set to marry next summer." He says obviously upset and trying to maintain his voice down and not yell. He leaves you in the living room and you sigh.

You will admit you did feel like shit thinking this way about him now. You knew better than to think this way about him. You sit there channel surfing and you stop on a sports channel that was talking about Joe. They mentioned you and the accident and show a clip of the moment he gets told on the field about what happened to you. He immediately went pale in the face and you can tell by reading his lips that he said "don't fuck with me like that." And he ran off back into locker room.

"We've gotten word that he might be out this first game which could mean a possible bad start to the Bengals seas-" you shit off the tv and look down at your cast. "Hello, hello... I come with lunch." You hear your sister enter the house. "I'm in the living room!" You call out. Your sister makes her way in the living setting the bags of food and drinks on the coffee table. "Where is everyone?" She asks. "Moms at the pharmacy getting my pain meds and Joe's somewhere talking to his lawyers." You sigh. "Oh, good!" She says. "You're behind this lawsuit train too?" You ask as she hands you the burrito bowl you asked her to get. "Of course, you could of been killed? And not you definitely someone else. There was a group of high school kids walking to the football game at the intersection the asshole hit you." She shakes her head.

"Why are you so moody today?" She asks. " I don't know...I guess I feel guilty for fucking up Joe's start to the season. It's like he can't catch a break, every season something fucking happens. Plus I totaled his fucking Porsche..." you sigh. "Well you're being dramatic, shit happens it's life. We only care that you're here. We can replace a car & he'll have many other games." She says. "How kind of you." You shake your head. "I'm just being honest, you found a man that loves you and cares for you and you're gonna be mad at him for prioritizing his soon to be bride? Don't make me break your other arm." She says making you laugh.

Joe comes back into living room thanking your sister for the food and taking a seat at the other end of the couch. "No problem, I gotta get going. Mom duties call." She says. "I thought this was a dad weekend?" You ask confused. "It was but he has a business trip so I gotta go pick up the kids today." She sighs grabbing her purse. As she was leaving your mom comes in. "Damn mom, you went grocery shopping for them or something?" You sister says bidding you all goodbye before stepping out of the house. "Mom, what'd you buy?" You sigh hearing the many plastic bags in her hands as you see Joe shaking his head chuckling. He knew better than to so say anything to her about buying stuff for a house she doesn't even live in, mostly because his mom is the type to do it as well. You couldn't turn to look at her but you could kind of see her in the reflection of the turned or tv.

"I noticed you guys were running low on some stuff so I grabbed a few things. Now here are your meds, take them." Your mom comes to hand you the bag and you open it reading the bottle first. You take one pill out but realized you couldn't reach the drink your sister has left for you on the coffee table. Joe notices and he quickly stands up and hands it to you. "Thank you." You say taking the medication with a sip of the iced tea and hand it back to him. You could tell he was just a bit upset from earlier and you wanted to apologize but now while your mom is here because you knew she'd insert her two cents in.

"Okay, you guys are stocked up. Do you need anything else? I can do any laundry- mom we're fine. Thank you for helping us out but we're good, go get some rest because I know you haven't slept." You say. "You sure? What if you need help using the bathroom or bathing?" She asks. "Well, I'm sure Joe could assist me better with both those things than you can mom." Your chuckle since your mom was a very petite woman. "Okay... you put those football muscles to work when you help her! I don't want my baby falling in the shower or anything." Your mom says to Joe and you roll your eyes. "Yes ma'am, football muscles have been activated." He says making you shake your head. "Okay well, I'll see you guys later. I guess I'll call you on his phone right?" Your mom asks. You still hadn't gotten back your phone and wasn't sure when or if that was possible. "Yeah or I have my iPad and can FaceTime you there." You say to her and she nods giving you a kiss on top of the head. She bids you two a goodbye and leaves out the door.

"Sorry about her." You say to Joe finally eating your food. "You don't have to apologize for her, she's pretty tame compared to my mom." He chuckles taking a sip of his drink. "I don't know, her basically wanting to bathe me kind of hit it of out the park." You laugh but wince as the pain in your rib. "Are you forgetting how my mom acted when I tore my ACL. She literally WALKED in on me showering when I was able to use the shower chair and hop in and out of the shower by myself. She insisted on checking up on me every 5 minutes to insure that I hadn't fallen and cracked my skull open." He shakes his head. "Oh yeah... I remember telling her that you'd be fine & was sure you knew what you were doing and she replied with 'I know my son' and proceeded to head to the bathroom. Which basically means... she called you clumsy." You chuckle and he shakes his head.

Once you finish your food Joe takes the trash and throws it away from you. You decided to pick a movie to watch and settle on a thriller. Joe comes back to the spot he was at you look over to him. "Why are you sitting so far away?" You ask and he shrugs. You pat the cushion next to you and he makes his way over to you. "Can I?" He asks signaling to lay his head on your lap like always. You nod patting your thigh with your good arm. As soon as his head touched your thigh you winced and he immediately say up making you laugh but the laughing it self actually making you wince in pain because of your ribs. "That's not funny!" he says looking at you like a father would their kid when they do something they're not supposed too. "Oh so it's only funny when you do it?" You raise an eyebrow and he sits there with a serious face knowing he did the same to you when he tore his ACL. He then slowly lays back down in defeat.

"I'm sorry for the way I've been acting by the way." You say to Joe and he turns to look up at you. "It's okay, I wasn't all that nice at first either after I had my injury., it's tough being injured" he says. "Yeah but this is different, I was being a bitch because you were actually being a good partner like what type of shit is that?" You shake your head. "I over heard you and your sister about feeling guilty about ruining the start to my season. You have no reason to feel guilty Y/N, it's not like you intentionally got into an accident. Plus... I can admit that in the past I might of put football over both of us, so I can see why you think it's weird for me to actually stay home and care for you...that's my fault and I need to work on that because the reality is football isn't going to be forever but you are." he says and you couldn't help but get a bit teary eyed hearing say that. "When did you become so mushy and good with words?" You say wiping away tears. "When I felt like my whole world ended getting the news you were in an accident." Joe says sitting up. He gives you a sweet tender kiss and wipes your tears away. "Love you." he smiles. "Love you too...now can you use that love and get me some oreos and milk?" You say making him laugh. "Sure thing babe." He says giving you one more kiss and getting up from the couch.

The rest of the week Joe spent taking care of you, from cooking (and by cooking you meant calling his chef to make all your favorites) to helping you shower to getting dressed to getting upstairs and downstairs or in and out of bed. And it just made you realize you couldn't wait to spend forever with him. 

[deadpresidents]

Which Presidential couple's story would make the best romantic comedy?

This is such a great question, and I was spending quite a bit of time going over the Presidential marriages while debating myself about the right answer. But it suddenly hit me that the perfect answer is Calvin Coolidge and his wife, Grace Goodhue Coolidge. They were extremely quirky as individuals and, as a couple, there are many unique stories about the Coolidges and their marriage. As I've written on a couple occasions in the past, Calvin Coolidge was a really weird dude (he had a mechanical horse in the White House for exercise and was not above dressing up as or acting like a cowboy when using it!), and Grace was eccentric (she had a pet raccoon named Rebecca in the White House) and very interesting in her own right. Together, they were quite a match.

As William A. DeGregorio wrote in The Complete Book of U.S. Presidents, "While watering flowers outside the school [she was working at in Northampton, Massachusetts] one day in 1903, [Grace] happened to look up at the open window of Robert N. Weir's boardinghouse and caught a glimpse of [Calvin] Coolidge, shaving in front of a mirror, with nothing on but long underwear and a hat. She burst out laughing at the sight; he heard the noise and turned to look at her. It was their first meeting."

And as the New York Times reported in a 1935 review of Mrs. Coolidge's biography of President Coolidge:

Soon after Calvin Coolidge was married, he took to his bride fifty-two pairs of socks in need of mending. "When I inquired if their wearer had married me to get his stockings darned, he replied quite seriously, 'No, but I find it mighty handy,'" Mrs. Grace Coolidge writes.

It seems like you could get a lot of comedic mileage out of their relationship. There are, without a doubt, significantly more photos of Grace Coolidge laughing or smiling than all of the First Ladies that preceded her (and a good number of those who followed her) combined.

[unhingedangstaddict]

This new wip has me in an absolute chokehold so I decided to share a little bit of it just to see what happens ig

Buck slept for a solid eight hours before he got up and headed to the kitchen in search of something to eat. He made himself a sandwich and read some news on his phone while he ate, standing in Tommy’s- in their kitchen in just a t-shirt and boxers.

Buck was startled by the sound of the doorbell, then frowned. He wasn’t expecting anyone or thing seeing as it was the middle of the night essentially. Buck quickly grabbed a pair of gym shorts from his bag that was thankfully near the front door and yanked them on, then opened the door to find an LAPD officer standing at the door. Buck’s heart rate picked up in an instant and he began to worry. Was Tommy okay? Buck was pretty certain they’d send someone from the LAFD if Tommy had been hurt, but maybe for some reason it made more sense to send LAPD. Buck’s mind raced with different distressing theories.

“Hello, I’m looking for Thomas Kinard, is he home?” The officer asked.

Well if they were looking for Tommy then he must be fine. Buck breathed a sigh of relief. “No, he’s at work right now, I’m his boyfriend.” Buck paused. If Tommy was okay, why was there a cop at the door looking for him? “What’s going on?”

“Is there a number we could reach Mr Kinard at?” The cop avoided Buck’s question.

“I- I could try his cell but he’s a firefighter-pilot, there’s a good chance he won’t answer.” Buck explained.

“Why don’t we try him anyway?” The cop suggested.

Buck frowned. “Okay. Let me just grab my phone,” Buck went to the kitchen where he’d left it on the counter. He was quite confused and worried about what was so urgent that an officer had to speak with Tommy at four in the morning. He returned to the front door where the officer was waiting and called Tommy, putting the phone on speaker while it rang.

“Hey Evan.” Tommy answered just as an alarm went off in the background. “Sorry babe, gotta go. Call you when I’m back.” Tommy hung up.

Buck looked helplessly at the officer. “He’s busy.”

“Okay.” The officer sighed. “I’m here about Mr Kinard’s sister, Cassandra, and her husband Marcus Anderson.”

“What is it?” Buck frowned. He’d meet Cassandra, Marcus, their nineteen year old son Dylan, and their fifteen year old daughter Avery over the summer. They’d come down to LA from San Francisco to visit and Buck really enjoyed getting to meet them and spending time with Tommy’s family.

“Unfortunately Cassandra and Marcus were involved in a fatal collision earlier tonight. They were both pronounced dead at the scene.” The officer said solemnly.

“Oh my god.” Buck gasped. “What about their daughter, Avery? Is she okay?” Avery still lived at home, while Dylan was a second year student at MIT.

“Yes. She was not in the vehicle with them. San Francisco PD is working to track her down and notify her. We’ve contacted Cambridge PD in Massachusetts to notify their son Dylan. Mr Kinard was Cassandra’s emergency contact should her husband not be available.” The officer explained.

“I- I’ll make sure to get the message to Tommy as soon as possible, and I’ll make sure he gets in touch with Avery right away.” Buck promised.

“Thank you. He can call this number to get more details. And I’m sorry for your loss.” The officer handed Buck a business card and left.

Buck took the card and closed the door as the officer walked away. He took a few breaths to keep himself calm- this wasn’t about him or his emotions right now, it was about Tommy. Buck needed to keep it together- he needed to be strong so Tommy wouldn’t have to be. Buck headed up to their bedroom to change into something more appropriate to leave the house in. He threw on a clean pair of sweatpants and a hoodie and headed to harbor. He knew Tommy was on a call at the moment, but Buck didn’t want to keep this from Tommy a moment longer than he had to. Buck parked outside the familiar station and headed inside, where he quickly ran into Lucy.

“Hey Buckley,” Lucy greeted. “Tommy’s out on a call right now,” She started.

“I know that.” Buck told her. “I need to speak with your captain.”

“What’s wrong?” Lucy frowned as she motioned for Buck to follow her.

Buck began following Lucy through the station. “I just got some news for him that can’t wait til his shift is over.”

Lucy raised a brow in question of this.

“I shouldn’t say anything, it’s not my place.” Buck told her.

“But it’s something bad?” Lucy guessed.

“Yeah, yeah it’s bad.” Buck sighed.

Buck spoke with Tommy's captain, then was shown to the kitchen where he could wait for Tommy. Buck mindlessly scrolled through his phone while he waited, not really absorbing anything he saw on the screen as his mind was elsewhere.

“Hey,” Tommy smiled as he came into the kitchen. “What’s going on that you couldn’t wait,” Tommy checked his watch. “Four hours?”

Buck got up from his chair and stepped closer to Tommy. There was no one else in the kitchen and Buck didn’t want to keep this from Tommy a second longer than he already had.

“Evan what’s wrong?” Tommy knew just from looking at Evan that something was very wrong.

“Tommy, it's your sister,” Buck started. “Cassandra and Marcus they- they were in an accident tonight,”

“No-” Tommy shook his head, his eyes already started stinging with tears. He already knew where this was going and he couldn’t bear it. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Tommy was older than Cassie- he wasn’t supposed to bury her. He couldn’t even recall exactly the last time they spoke on the phone or by text. She couldn’t be-

Buck cupped Tommy’s cheek as his own eyes stung with tears. “They didn’t make it, they died. I’m so sorry.”

Tommy swallowed thickly. “How- how do you know?”

“An officer came to the house looking for you, that's why I called earlier.” Buck explained. “They’ve sent someone to notify Dylan, I got the impression they weren’t sure where Avery is, the officer said they’re trying to track her down.”

“Oh my god.” Tommy mumbled.

“I know, baby.” Buck said gently and pulled Tommy into a hug. He didn’t know, not really. He had a deceased sibling, sure, but he’d never known Daniel. He hadn’t spent forty or so odd years of his life loving Daniel. Hadn’t been there for Daniel’s triumphs and trials. Hadn’t watched Daniel build a family of his own. Tommy had all of that with Cassandra.

Tommy clung to Evan for what could’ve been a minute or an hour as he just cried into Evan’s shoulder.

[steviewashere]

Dream Come True

Rating: General CW: Minor internalized ableism on Steve's end Tags: Established Relationship, Married Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Future Fic, Adopting a Child, Parenthood, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Let Them Live a Quiet Life God Damn It, Mild Hurt/Comfort

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is about healing each other's wounds."

💕—————💕

They haven’t discussed children since the second month they were together. Was that probably a little too early in their relationship? Probably—Eddie will be brave enough to admit that right now. But, considering where they’re at now: Steve is forty-seven and Eddie’s forty-eight, their wedding bands are simple and gold (something easily spotted amongst the silver ones that Eddie still wears), the house they took a loan out for is painted yellow with white shutters installed (well, they paid Dustin and Will to do it. They were happy to help), they live in Massachusetts away from public eye, and though they don’t have a dog—not yet, the service dog process has been a long and weary one on Steve’s end—they have their little brown tabby cat. They’ve got a well furnished home. And years of love between them.

Nearly twenty-eight years in total. Nineteen years wedded. Six years of that are legally recognized. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is they stopped talking about the prospect of having kids.

Eddie’s initial answer at the beginning was, “Maybe. I think it would be neat. But, I’m gay, Steve. That isn’t really a possibility.” He chuckled a little bit. “I meant like adopting, but in a technical sense—Considering what’s in my pants, the possibility is still out the window.”

Steve’s was changed from what he told Nancy in that Winnebago. “I still want children. Or, just one. I want a quiet life. Even if you make it as some big rock star, I want a quiet private life.”

It was doable. What Steve had whispered on Eddie’s shoulder, that was doable. The question for years though was, When does he want that? And also, When will he leave to pursue that?

The answer was clear. Steve was never going to pursue that. That, sure, they’d have the quiet life. But never have children. And Eddie saw him wilt a little further and further. When they passed by the playground at the park. The daycare up the street from their home. After the seizure diagnosis, Steve stopped looking and thinking about it all together. It hurt Eddie’s heart.

He may have got the quiet life. And Eddie may have lived out his simple dream. He’d been a rockstar for a little bit in the late nineties and early two-thousands, retiring before they got married. But…Steve hasn’t lived his dream. Eddie hates that he thinks it’s being held back from him. Eddie’s determined to heal that hurt inside him.

——— Steve comes home from his Wednesday teaching shift around four in the evening. Eddie’s already on the couch, combing Poncho’s fur, watching the local news. He’s got a very important print out laid neatly on the coffee table. He hears Steve set down his briefcase on the dining table, his footsteps retreating to their kitchen to rinse out his thermos, coming back to the front door and placing his loafers on the shoe rack, and he hangs up his coat. Then, he enters the living room, hands scrambling to undo his tie, body leaning over the arm of the couch to press a kiss against Eddie’s mouth.

But then he pulls away, turning his whole body to watch the news. And that’s when he spots it. The flyer. He shuffles over on his mismatched socked feet, hands falling away from the collar of his dress shirt. He swipes up the paper. Behind his glasses, he squints.

It’s advertisement for the adoption agency some forty minutes out. Eddie hopes, by everything, that this will heal the pain in his own chest, and the emotional line of thinking in Steve’s brain. Hopes with everything that his body can physically give.

“What’s this about?” Steve asks. His voice is neutral. Almost…dare Eddie say, steely. Okay, maybe he made the wrong move. “We haven’t even—“

“I know,” Eddie immediately says. “I know we haven’t talked about it. But, sweetheart, just listen to me, alright?” At Steve’s confused and hesitant nod, Eddie tries to arrange his words. “This is something you’ve been wanting since forever ago. And I know that I haven’t really voiced my wants on it. But I also thought that it would never happen.

“That it would never be something people like me—“ He raises his eyebrows and points to the keyring attached to Steve’s belt loop. The short rainbow garland that sits discreetly among his keys. “—Would ever get the chance to do. But I—Steve, god, I want it so bad. I want to be able to be a dad and chase around a kiddo of our own while you’re busy at work. I want to see one off for school for their first day and cry like I’ll never see them again. Wanna make them a lunch they can bring to school, the same time that I make your lunch for your school. I want to watch them grow up with your goofy dancing skills and our combined love for music. And I—I want to be a better parent that I could’ve ever imagined.

“I want it with you,” Eddie breathes. “I want all of that with you. And I know that you still want it. Your forlorn looks at couples with babies. Every time you see Lucas and Max and their spitfire teenager, your eyes get this brightness to them that I—I have to be honest, I don’t think I’ve seen you happy like that since we got married.” He swallows at some of the implications there. And it’s not meant to be accusatory, but gosh does Eddie notice. The way his sunflower wilts. “This is just something for you to think about, okay? I know my decision on it. But think about it.”

Steve’s grip on the paper trembles. And his eyes are searing Eddie in a way that melts him. Blazing with adoration and love. “You want that?” He shakily asks. “You want to raise a kid with me?”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, baby. I really, really, really do.”

“Even though…Even though I have seizures that could scare them shitless? And I get so angry some days that all I can do is hide in our bedroom and cry? And I—You want that with somebody like me?” He hesitates to ask again. Eddie doesn’t answer, but his arms open in comfort and his eyes soften with earnest. Steve doesn’t move from his spot, though. He looks back at the paper. “What’s the—Our first step?”

“We apply. And they determine if we’re worthy and that it’ll be safe,” Eddie answers. “If they see us fit, they’ll look at our house and things like that. We’ll come back to that later on. If that’s something you still want.”

“Okay,” Steve states with fervor. “Let’s do this.”

——— After a tedious process, Eddie realizes how correct he was.

It’s a Saturday. The curtains are open. Dinner is simmering on the stovetop. And Eddie stirs the soup while he listens in on Steve’s activity in the living room.

“There you go, sweetheart,” Steve is cooing. “Good job, Carmen. Look at you.” He’s been supervising her tummy time everyday he’s able to. Loves being able to lay on his back on the floor, eyes watching their daughter, his fingers combing through her hair as she uses her wide brown eyes to wonder about the world around her.

Eddie bites back a smile.

“That’s Poncho,” Steve is saying. He’s introducing them like they’re all acquaintances around a water cooler. Eddie, maybe, snickers a little bit behind his hand. “He’s gonna be your buddy. He likes the space between his shoulder blades scratched. Just like you, huh?” And hears the moment that Steve dully traces his fingernails on Carmen’s back. She gurgles a little excited babbling. “That feels good, doesn’t it?” Steve murmurs. “Daddy likes that, too.” He’s talking about himself. Because he practically fought tooth and nail for that title. Eddie wouldn’t have it any other way.

From the kitchen archway, Eddie surveys the display on the living room floor. And Steve’s on his back in his pajamas. Glasses smooshed awkwardly up his face as his cheek is pressed against the carpet, eyes gone soft and glistening while Carmen is on her belly. Her hands are sprawled in front of her, squeezing at the soft toys they had gotten. He’s brushing his fingers through her short, curly wisps of brown hair. Then, his hand travels back down to massage and scratch at her back again. She’s wearing a pink striped onesie and a pair of white socks on her little feet.

He clears his throat to make himself known. Steve looks up at him, softly smiling. “I reckon things are going good in here?” Steve only nods, too enamored with petting at Carmen’s back. Eddie finally smiles at him. “Good,” he whispers. He leans his weight on the doorway. A dish rag thrown over his shoulder, arms crossed low over his belly, hair thrown up in a loose bun on his head. Domestic life has really begun to suit him, if he’s honest. He finds himself at ease about it now.

As he turns back to the kitchen, to serve up their bowls of soup, Steve calls his name. He immediately turns back around. Greeted with his husband’s soft face, his deepened smile lines, his messy hair spread on the carpet. He’s more youthful than ever, fatherhood has changed him for the better, at least Eddie thinks so. He hums to see what Steve needs, because by god, he’ll do anything for him.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers.

“For what?”

“Making my hurt go away,” Steve says. But Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. And Steve clarifies, “Allowing me to accomplish my final dream. I’m really happy that it’s with you.”

Eddie crosses into the living room, crouching down to kiss Steve’s forehead, pecking Carmen’s soft head, too. He combs his own fingers through Steve’s hair. Smiling at the way he keens. “You made me believe that I could be a good dad,” he admits. “I can’t wait to do this right.”

Steve brings a hand to Eddie’s cheek. His index finger softly tracing down the side of his face. “Love you,” he murmurs.

Turning his face, Eddie kisses the tip of Steve’s finger. “Love you, too,” Eddie easily says in return.

Sure, he got to be a rockstar, but he thinks that this life—Steve soft and middle aged and smiling at him, petting down their daughter’s back, cooing soft as if he’s not almost fifty—is much better than anything he could’ve ever dreamed. Maybe filling the hole in Steve’s soul, the remedy that their daughter brings—Maybe that heals something for Eddie, too.

💕—————💕

[pepsiboyy]

HEARTSTRINGS. - p2

p1 ⚜ masterlist ⚜ p3

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: after moving to massachusetts from florida, y/n lives with her half brother, nathan doe, who is part of a small garage band. their sassy guitarist, chris sturniolo, can't help but get on her nerves. but there's something about him. warnings: use of y/n lol, cursing, use of nickname (ma literally once as a joke) a/n: HIIII short update but keeping u guys fed love u always <33

wednesday.

i hummed to myself and smiled as i made my way down the stairs. today was going to be a good day. i decided i should wake up each day with a positive outlook, because if i don't, then days won't be as bright, and-

"mornin, y/n."

my movements stopped as i looked over to the couch in the living room, occupied by nate, and chris.

my eyes met chris' as i stared at him and blinked a few times.

nate turned his head from the game they were playing on the tv and smiled warmly at me. "oh, hey."

i collected myself in my comfy robe and tried to mask my look of disgust, but it was hard. "what's he doing here?"

"no need for hostility, ma, just spending time with my best friend." chris motioned to nate, who smacked the everliving shit out of his arm.

"dude, don't call my sister that, it's weird."

i stared at the two, my cheeks a soft tint of pink as i shook my head. "right. so that means i have to-"

"get used to seein me, yup."

everyone's heads turned to the front door as it opened, and my dad walked in.

"hey guys. oh, hey chris." he said enthusiastically.

i watched in disbelief as they just allowed chris there. like he lived there.

i scoffed before grabbing a banana and making my way back to my room. there goes my positive outlook on today.

my dad was beginning to go to sleep, and nate was in his room. i had been in my room most of the day, not exactly wanting to run into chris, or my brother who would definitely give me a talk about chris. it just didn't interest me, i didn't want to see him.

maybe it was the bad first impression. i don't think there's actually much wrong with chris. maybe he's good at guitar. maybe he's good at whatever game him and nate were playing downstairs this morning.

i quickly shook my head as i slipped out of bed and made my way out of my room. i needed a drink. or something to eat. or fresh air. something to get my mind off of chris.

upon leaving my room, i was met with a larger figure passing by the front of my room. my eyes followed him and i noticed he was approaching nate's room. but he was taller than nate.

"oh, you're still up?"

i swear.

"you're still here?" i fired back, and chris threw his hands up in defense.

"what's your problem with me? did i do something to upset you?"

i stared at him, a look of annoyance on my face. not really, i wanted to say. your face is so punchable, i wanted to say. your hair is so cool, i wanted to say. i just can't stop thinking about you, i wanted to say.

"whatever." i mumbled as i passed him and entered the kitchen.

"come on, y/n. you can't hate me that much." chris whisper-yelled in response, attempting not to be loud as everyone else was beginning to fall asleep. "and to answer your question, i'm here because nate invited me to stay tonight and write lyrics. he was tired though, so he went to bed."

"mmhm." i responded blandly, opening the refrigerator, which lit up my face in the darkness of the kitchen.

"nate told me you sing a bit?"

i turned to chris and narrowed my eyes. "i dabble. but you'd catch me dead before catching me singing for your band." i mumbled, pointing my pointer finger at chris with one hand and a tub of orange juice in my other hand.

chris clutched his chest as he stared at me, a clear look of hurt on his face. "harsh much. no need for the sass, i deal with it enough at home."

i shut the refrigerator and looked at him as i got two cups out, setting them on the counter. "at home?"

"yeah," chris started, as he watched me pour the orange juice into the two cups, "i have two brothers. i'm a triplet actually."

"eugh, there's more of you?"

chris stared at me, dumbfounded. "they're nothing like me, believe it or not." he mumbled, but something about his tone made me realize he was serious, but almost in a way that was sentimental to him. i could tell he looks up to his brothers.

"you three close?" i questioned as i put away the orange juice and began sipping at my cup.

"absolutely. never really done much without them." he smiled softly at the thought of his two brothers. "their names are matt and nick."

i nodded as i listened to him. "i see. before nate, i didn't really have siblings. i just lived with my mom in florida." i chuckled, setting my cup down gently.

chris nodded. "see, i just can't even begin to imagine a life without siblings." he gently picked up the cup i poured for him, and motioned it up as a soft 'cheers' and smiled. "thank you, by the way," he mumbled before he took a sip out of the cup.

i smiled warmly and nodded. "and i can hardly imagine a life with siblings. but nate is so kind, i look forward to getting closer to him."

chris nodded as he leaned against the counter and stared out the kitchen window, humming to himself in response. "nathan is my best friend. truly. i can go to him about anything." he turned to me and smiled. "i think you'll love having him around. he's a reliable friend, i can't imagine how he would be as a brother. he didn't even let me call you a harmless nickname earlier."

"harmless is kind of.." i trailed off and smiled softly at chris. we looked at each other before i sat up and hummed. "anyways. i'm going to go back to my room. you have fun writing lyrics?" i smiled at chris.

chris nodded as he looked at me, finishing his cup and sitting up. "yeah. i'll be in nate's room." he smiled. "i'll come to you if i get lonely?"

"in your dreams." i quickly responded, sitting up as i made my way to the stairs. chris followed behind me and chuckled softly.

"too late for that, y/n."

p1 ⚜ masterlist ⚜ p3

comment to be added to taglist!! taglist;; @sturnioloshacker @nickgetsmewetter @matthewsturniolosgirlfriend101 @chrissgirlsstuff @nsjsnshey @sturniolosarethebest

[bigfan-fanfic]

Back Into Trouble (Winchester!Reader x Winchester Bros PLATONIC)

A sequel to Brother Mine

This fic takes place somewhere near the end of season 1, after episode 19 but before episode 20. In addition, there's a song called Brother Mine that is really sweet and cute especially if put into this context of being Sam and Dean's, but especially Dean's, older brother. "I know that I sit and I worry too much/Especially when you come home such a sight/But I guess what you've got to do, boy, you go ahead and do it/And I sure hope things will be all right"

You may not have enjoyed returning to hunting, but you're damn good at it.

Although it's made even more frustrating when your father actually calls in.

You're not so thrilled about continuing on this... gallivanting cross-country, especially when John is chasing down the demon that killed your mother.

But Sam seems to have come to terms with it, though you honestly feel like that might have more to do with his desire to avenge Jess.

The real problem you see with your little brothers is their inability to let go.

You had all been raised by John in the hunting lifestyle, the family business.

But it's been decades since your mother's death. A horrible thing, that you have had to come to terms with having no real answers for.

And you can understand the desire for vengeance, for a clear-cut answer that will "solve everything."

It won't.

Something you've tried to get your brothers to think about is the future. About what they want out of their lives.

Because you remember how it was, living completely in the moment, day to day, hunt to hunt. And it was Bobby who pointed out that you had potential, that you deserved a life, if not now, then at least the promise of one.

So you convince them to take a rest in Massachusetts after leaving a hunt. Just to take a couple of days for hanging out.

Dean wants to see the Cheers bar and Sam wants to visit the Old North Church, so you get an actual hotel suite in Boston.

You check in with your colleagues and employees, apologizing for being incommunicado for so long. Thankfully the hotel has a business center with a fax machine you can sign invoices and contracts with.

Dean looks at you curiously. "So... you really did just... start a business?"

"Technically I bought it out from the owner who wanted to retire. So more... maintaining."

"You really are just... out of the life."

"I was, til you two called me."

"...sorry." Dean mumbles, and you grab his shoulder.

"Don't be. I was never doing this for Dad. I'm here for you and for Sammy."

Dean nods thoughtfully.

"You saw him. With that girl at the art gallery. He liked her. She liked him."

"Yeah."

"And you... with Cassie."

"Your point being?"

"Life keeps building off-ramps for you but you keep on truckin down this road."

Dean scowls. "Look, I'm not stupid. I know this life is dangerous. I know my days are probably numbered. But I'm making a difference. I'm saving people."

"What about you?"

He blinks. "What about me?"

"I'm done trying to force you out of the life, Dean. It's your choice. When we finally deal with all this shit - when the bastard that killed Mom is dead and you and Sam are finally free... I'm not gonna stop you if you go back to hunting."

"You're not?"

You nod. "But I'll be damned if I'm gonna lose contact with you again. I'll be there when you need a place to crash or a voice to call. Maybe you'll even visit me.

"Just... I need you to promise me you're not gonna run yourself into the ground. None of this has been your fault. It's not your fault about Mom, and it wasn't your fault I left, and it's not your fault that Dad couldn't really be a dad to us."

Dean wants to protest but you shush him. "You're gonna do what you do. And I'm gonna stop hunting again. For good this time. But when you decide it's time to come home... I hope you come to me, little brother."

You stand up then, leaving Dean to his thoughts. He's quiet for the rest of the day, but you feel an almost companionable nature to the silence.

And just maybe, after this all... maybe your brothers will follow you away from the things that go bump in the night.

[indieyuugure]

Officially asking your timeline for the 2012 series!

Feel free to answer in two parts if that's easier (and/or less confusing) considering the first three seasons are less convoluted than the last two.

Thanks!

Yeah! Of course here you go:

So this is assuming that the Turtles’ birthday is in the spring, I could of course be wrong, but it seems unlikely it’s a different time.

Okay so first thing you probably notice is that the time line doesn’t start in 2012, it starts in 2011. It’s weird but according to Rocksteady’s résumé, they joined the foot clan in 2013, but they do that in season 3, which should be about 3 years later.

There’s also a few other things, including the fact that Kraang Prime states I believe in season 3 that it has been 2 years since their first invasion. I’m not as certain on that one as someone told me about that, if you have an episode number that’d be great.

If you can prove me wrong on this really weird error I would be genuinely delighted.

So I guess starting with season 1 and 2’s distance, there’s a line between Casey and Raph during the episode The Invasion Part 1 where Casey states it’s been 1 year since the last invasion: (source: turtlepedia.fandom.com)

So that means that season 1 and 2 have to span 2 years. Mikey also states there was a month gap between the first and second season heard in The Mutation Situation: (as in season 2 episode 1, not my comic)

After season 2, stuff starts getting a bit weird. Assuming we ignore the animation error that there is no snow on the ground and the trees have green leaves in early December in Massachusetts, then it’s definitely true that 3 months have passed since December so now it’s March, which makes sense for there to be no snow.

There’s another really odd error in The Croaking, where Michelangelo introduces himself as being 15 years old, when actually he’s 16 almost (or is, depending on their birthday) 17. I figure though that’s probably an error with the script writers and not related to the actual timeline.

Then of course there’s the time travel dilemma. At the end of season 3 it ends with the planet being blown up and they travel back in time an amount that Donnie claims to be 6 months given the Earth’s position in comparison to the sun.

However, there are a few issues to this. One being that in the episode Trans-Dimensional Turtles(season 4, ep 10) the turtles go back in time. The time is unclear until the end when a Kraathatrogon pops out of a portal that is the same one that they threw into a portal back in the episode The Manhattan Project(episode 13, s2)way back in season 2. Unfortunately this means that either A) all of season 2 and 3 covers 6 months, which is definitely not true, or B) Donnie was wrong about how long they were actually in Space.

Now the tricky part is the question “Well if Donnie was wrong, then how long were they ACTUALLY in space.” Now I made the guess that maybe it’s more like 1 and a half years because that way Donnie was still right, he didn’t realize how many times the Earth had made a full circle, so it’s more plausible.

I have some issues with how he guessed 6 months, because they are right next to the Earth, but the Earth has an elliptical orbit around the sun, so 6 months would be half a circle, so unless they were also following the earth in it’s orbit, it would actually need to be 1 or 2 years—one or two full circles to the same position—but whatever I guess. Diagram of what I mean:

The other issue is that yes, now we have a point of reference in the first timeline, but where was that in the Space timeline. There’s not a clear answer, but given that there are 14 episodes in the space arc, The Manhattan Project taking place at episode 10, and the fact that the turtles bemoan the fact that the last few episodes are actually incredibly far spaced because of travel time, I’m going to assume it’s somewhere between the first 1/3 and middle of their time in space.

(In this diagram it’s more like 1.667 years, but whatever)

So after that you have season 4 which is even harder to pinpoint the length of be about half of it is the space arc, now, you could say that the remainder 2013 is also the rest of season 4, however another question arises with Rocksteady’s résumé where he states that he stopped working for the Foot in 2016, though I’m not sure when he’s considering their work for the foot to have ended (if you have an episode that’d be great) so I’m not really sure.

So unfortunately, everything after the end of the Space arc I have no clue on, though it seems you were mostly interested in the first half.

I basically have no clue for season 5, but most of it is silly “what-ifs” so I doubt most of it has a time line placement.

So yeah, that’s my wacky timeline research, please nit-pick as much as you can. My goal is to create an official timeline so if you have more stuff to add to this that might clarify things, or prove things differently, I’m all ears!

Hopefully that made any amount of sense, feel free to ask more questions :]

[musette22]

Evanstan AU with handsome small town guy Chris and pretty city boy Sebastian #3672:

One October night, local biker Chris Evans picks up Sebastian, New York-based actor on the cusp of a breakthrough, from the side of the road somewhere in rural Massachusetts.

---

Sebastian is on his way back to New York after shooting scenes for a low-budget movie in a small New England town. He's exhausted thanks to a 5am call time, and frustrated because he's supposed to be past starring in this type of ridiculous Hallmark movie by now, and to make matters worse, he dropped his phone earlier and now the GPS doesn't work, which means he's trying to make his way back to the motorway with the outdated map he found in the glove compartment of his rental car (trying being the operative word here). And then, just when he thinks things have hit rock bottom, the car suddenly sputters to a halt, and Sebastian realizes with a sinking feeling that he forgot to fill up on gas before leaving New York.

Fuck his life, honestly.

He just about manages to steer the car into the gutter before it gives up the ghost completely. Sebastian gets out of the car in a huff, yelling into the void for few satisfying seconds and then giving one of the car's tires a vicious kick for good measure.

He's so caught up in his rage that he doesn't even really register the motorcycle coming towards him until it stops next to his car. And oh great, as if this day wasn't terrible enough, now he's is going to get murdered by a Hell's Angel by the side of the road in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. But then the guy takes off his helmet, and - oh, hello. Sebastian thinks he actually wouldn't mind being murdered by this guy so much. He's a little rugged, sure, but in a handsome way, bearded, wearing leather boots as well as two different types of flannel underneath his motojacket.

"You okay there?" the guy asks, giving Sebastian an amused look.

Sebastian cringes, realizes how he must look to this guy, in his suit jacket and fancy shoes and gold jewellery, throwing a tantrum by the side of the road. But he's got bigger things to worry about right now than looking like an idiot, so he runs a hand through his disheveled hair and answers truthfully. "Not really," he admits. "Ran out of gas and I've got no idea where I am, to be honest."

The guy smirks, giving Sebastian a slow once-over. "I thought you looked a little lost," he says, but before Sebastian can put his hackles up, the guy holds out his hand and says, "I'm Chris. Where were you headed to?"

"Sebastian." He shakes Chris's hand, which is big and dry and a little cold, from driving without gloves on. "Well, I was hoping to get back to New York sometime tonight, but..."

Chris clicks his tongue in sympathy. "Tough luck. If you want, I can give you a ride to the nearest town? You could stay the night at the inn and call the AAA tomorrow? Unless you'd rather call them now. They'd have to come all the way from Boston, though, so it could take a couple of hours."

Sebastian sighs, because yeah no, the idea of sitting here in the dark for hours by himself doesn't exactly sound appealing. As if in agreement, Sebastian's stomach chooses that moment to remind him that the last time he had something to eat was around 10am that morning, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet road. Sebastian shoots Chris a sheepish look.

"There's also a pretty good burger place on the way," Chris says, looking even amused now, before he gives Sebastian's clothes another calculating look and adds, "That is, if you don't mind greasy burgers."

Sebastian can't help but bristle, just a little. "The greasier the better," he says defiantly, before realizing that kind of sounded like an innuendo, considering this guy looks like a bike mechanic. It seems Chris picked up on that too, because he smirks again. Then he holds out his helmet to Sebastian. "Hop on," he says.

"What about you?"

"I'll drive slow," Chris shrugs. "It's only a couple of minutes."

So Sebastian puts on the helmet and swings his leg over the bike, settling in behind Chris.

"Hold on tight."

Sebastian wraps his arms tightly around Chris's surprisingly slim waist, pressing himself up against his back. As they set off, Sebastian has the sudden thought that this day might be looking up after all.

They pull up outside a pub-style bar a little while later. Chris shuts off the bike and Sebastian climbs off, taking off the helmet. "Thanks," he says, handing it to Chris. "I appreciate it. So um, if you could give me the name of that inn, I can just go on on foot once I'm done here and ask for directions or something. Unless it's too far to walk?"

"I could also just give you a lift there," Chris says, tilting his head slightly. "I'm kinda hungry myself, actually. I could eat a burger. If you don't mind the company, that is."

Sebastian really, really doesn't mind the company. He smiles. "'Course," he says, starting to walk in the direction of the entrance. "My treat, seeing as you kind of saving my ass right now." When he shoots a look over his shoulder, he could swear Chris had just been looking at said ass, possibly assessing whether or not it's worth saving. Sebastian hopes the answer is yes.

As promised, the burgers are pretty greasy but also very good. They talk while they eat, Sebastian relating what led him to be stranded in the middle of bumfuck nowhere Massachusetts. Chris smirks, but otherwise doesn't make any snide remarks about Sebastian being an actor, so Sebastian likewise doesn't make fun of Chris when he tells him he's owns a one-man woodworking business. Despite their very different lifestyles and occupations, it turns out they've got quit a lot in common. And unless Sebastian is very delusional, they've also got a ton of chemistry. Chris keeps looking at Sebastian's mouth when he's talking, and Sebastian can't stop himself from letting his gaze linger on Chris's shoulders and forearms. There's a spark there, no doubt about it.

By the time they've finished their burgers and drinks, Sebastian is really hoping he might just be able to stay the night at Chris's place, instead of at some inn.

Once Sebastian has paid, they make their way outside again, walking over to Chris's parked bike. Chris gets on but doesn't take the bike off the stand yet. He rubs the back of his neck, giving Sebastian a look from under his lashes. "So. Where to?"

Sebastian arches an eyebrow. "Thought you were gonna give me a lift to that inn you mentioned." He lets Chris sweat for a moment, before he smirks and adds, "Unless you've got somewhere better in mind."

The corner of Chris's mouth curves upwards. "I might know a place," he says, not breaking eye contact.

They look at each other for a moment, something sizzling in the air between them.

"Lead the way."

****

Chris knows he shouldn't have brought this beautiful stranger home.

He knows he's a hopeless romantic who falls too fast, especially for people like Sebastian, who are gorgeous and interesting and driven and intelligent. He knows that inviting someone like that into his home would make him immediately imagine a future with them that he could never have. He knows that, and at the same time, he also knows he wouldn't have wanted to miss last night for the world.

Sebastian is better than anything Chris could ever have dreamed up, and Chris is so happy that chance (fate?) brought Sebastian into his path. So grateful that he got to spend one perfect night with him.

But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like a sonofabitch when he's driving Sebastian back to his car the next day, knowing that in just a few minutes time, he's going to have to say goodbye, and he'll most likely never see him again. Except maybe on the silver screen.

Chris pulls up next to Sebastian's abandoned car, shuts off the engine, and takes off his helmet. Behind him, Sebastian does the same, handing Chris the spare helmet to put in the saddlebags. Chris gets off and turns around. Sebastian's hair is tousled, the golden morning sun catching on it, making it glow. He's wearing an old wax coat over his suit blazer, lent to him by Chris, because the morning air is pretty chilly, and Chris has already learned that Sebastian gets cold easily.

When Sebastian starts to take off the coat, Chris waves a hand and says, "Keep it. It's an old one anyway, and you might be here for a while, depending on when the AAA gets here."

Frowning, Sebastian puts his hands in his pockets. The sun frames him from behind, making it seem like he's got a halo, and secretly, Chris thinks Sebastian is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Thank you," Sebastian says quietly.

And Chris could be wrong, but he thinks that maybe, just maybe, Sebastian might be feeling a little of what Chris is feeling, too.

"Don't mention it," Chris says, leaning against his bike, thankful for his sunglasses not just because of the sun, but also because they help hide the way he's feeling right now. Which is, frankly, far more devastated than he should be, over someone he just met yesterday.

"I could -" Sebastian starts, before he stops himself, biting his lip.

"Yeah?"

Sebastian takes a breath, looking at the ground. "Well, I was just thinking, I could maybe return it to you sometime. The coat, I mean. You're not that far from New York, really, and, y'know, I'm kinda sad I didn't get a chance to see your workshop, and like, the town." He looks up, giving Chris a careful look from under his lashes.

A warm feeling spreads through Chris's chest, more effective in driving away the cold and sadness than the sun could ever hope to be. He smiles at Sebastian. "Or I could drive up to New York sometime and collect it," he says, ignoring the fact that he just basically said he didn't need the coat back anyway. "Been meaning to visit again for a while anyway, I kinda miss the excitement. And like you said, it's not that far from here, if you think about it."

They smile helplessly at each other for a few moments, something passing between them that doesn't need to be articulated to be real.

"Let me give you my number," Sebastian says, seeming to glow with more than just the morning sunlight now, and if Chris saves the number in his phone with a little heart next to Sebastian's name, that's nobody's business but his.