#Jack plays Pokémon

[gameotheque]

Pokéthon Statistics!

Here are a few statistics I collected for fun while playing one* game per region:

*Two for Unova.

Categories:

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Types

How many Pokémon of which type did I use on my team:

Normal: 9*

Grass: 7

Fire: 5

Water: 10

Electric: 4

Rock: 2

Ground: 5

Steel: 3

Fighting: 2

Flying: 7

Bug: 1

Poison: 3

Ice: 3

Psychic: 6

Ghost: 4

Dark: 4

Fairy: 4*

Dragon: 5**

*Two of my teammates were changed to Fairy types over Normal types in later gens, but they do not count here.

**Two team members could become part Dragon types when they Mega Evolved, arguably bringing the Dragon total to 7.

Mono-Typed: 23

Dual-Typed: 31

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Species

Overall number of Pokémon species used across teams, counting evolution stages: 119*

*125, if Megas are counted. 130 if Gigantamaxes are counted as well.

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Gender

Pokémon:

Female - 33

Male - 19

Genderless - 2

Protagonist:

Female - 3

Male - 6

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Levels

Level Range of the team at the end of the adventure:

Shining Pearl: 85-87

X: 75-77

Ultra Sun: 77-79

HeartGold: 66-68

Let's Go Pikachu!: 61-64

Alpha Sapphire: 72-74

White: 75-77

White 2: 67-69

Sword: 79-81

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Time:

Shining Pearl - 49:10

X - 42:26

Ultra Sun - 44:24

HeartGold - 48:01

Let's Go Pikachu! - 22:49

Alpha Sapphire - 38:24

White - 44:33

White 2 - 36:19

Sword - 37:29

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Posts:

Amount of post updates per title:

Shining Pearl: 23

X: 28

Ultra Sun: 39

HeartGold: 41

Let's Go Pikachu!: 32

Alpha Sapphire: 45

White: 47

White 2: 44

Sword: 110

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Favorite

Most enjoyable replay:

White.

#'explain the amount of Sword posts' #'no' #This has been a Very enjoyable undertaking #even if I had to play LGP again #I did it for you guys #you guys = Pokémon Violet #I did not include my PLA playthrough here bc I did not make an actual liveblog for it #only making peacemeal updates on my main for it #I didn't know how to go about liveblogging PLA at the time #but I think I could do it now #and I do plan on replaying it after Violet so we'll see!!! #Jack plays Pokémon #absolute bastard state of affairs re: the Bug type I will always love you darling I'm so sorry

[a-gaggle-of-trainers]

Hmm... yes. Totally the same, Beauregard.

#trainersona #pokemon legends arceus #trainer oc #pokemon trainer #pokemon trainer oc #pokemon trainersona #trainer sona #pokemon trainer sona #trainer jack #oc; jack #PLA #Shiggy plays Pokémon

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

Let me rant for a second guys I saw Avatar Way of Water and my family’s sick of me 😂 SPOILERS BY THE WAY SO IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IT DO NOT READ ON!

Also if you’re sensitive best to avoid this as well. Cause if you come after me in my comments I will have a go at you.

Visually: fuckin phenomenal. It was so pretty and smooth and it just looked amazing. It was so easy to get sucked into the world they lived in and feel for their losses cause it felt like the creatures were actual beings.

Sound: Also amazing. Bit lacklustre with some effects, I feel like some of them could have used a bit more oomph or grittiness but overall it was quite good.

Story: Pretty shit honestly. It feels like they were trying to cram too many things into the movie and they just ran out of time or budget and decided to go with the bare minimum to get small points across. Like I know what they were trying to do but it just… don’t work well. It was a lot of tiny things messily tied into an uneven bow that wasn’t very good looking.

And now the bit everyone’s been talking about. The cultural aspects.

Now I’m Māori, and when I first heard about our cultures involvement with one of the main tribes of the movie I was so excited because it looked like it had been done marginally well. But it was pretty disappointing to see them fuck it up so badly when in practice.

They literally mashed a bunch of different cultures and native customs into one incoherent mess and while I didn’t really find it insulting or anything it was still pretty disappointing and I was amused more than anything. Like what the fuck was up with the pakeha pukana’s and cheehoo’s?? 😂 god and the ‘cuz’ and ‘bro’ that was just… not nice to listen to 🤣

Also!! Also! Why did they make Cliff Curtis’ face look so broad and flat?? Like they made sure you knew the man was an islander while they made everyone else have real thin and pointed features. Which is ironic considering their natives played by well, non-natives of any kind.

Those characters were useless 😂 like what was the point of them? Again, I know what they were trying to do but holy shit they didn’t really offer much did they? They played a small part and then just stuck around cause the movie couldn’t just kill ‘em off or anything.

And the fact that half of them couldn’t even pronounce the names or words well? Come on man, where’s the effort? Even Jake did a better job and he’s supposed to be the foreigner with shit pronunciation.

😔 anyway! Is the movie a good watch overall? Not really, no. But if you’re able to just let yourself watch without concentrating on the story or other aspects of it it’s amazing to just look at. If you’re a huge visuals fan or you’re not there to actually take in the story then you’ll enjoy it. But yeah! I enjoyed looking at it and the soundtrack but that’s as far as it goes.

Oh yeah! I don’t know any kind of Sign language but can someone tell me is the sign language in the movie a legit form?? Because if so then that was a very well done form of inclusion. It wasn’t just some throw away ‘hey we did that give us credit’ it was a legit, this is part of the clan and an everyday part of their life sort of inclusion. If not then my apologies for giving credit to absolute nonsense 😂

#avatar way of water #blue avatar #review I guess #don’t hate me for my opinions #fuck you if you do #avatar #Tsu’Tey should’ve been there #he would’ve fucked everyone up #visually amazing #everything else not so much #useless characters #what was the point of them #Jack sulley playing Pokémon with the tribes

[findroleplay]

Hi there! 🍎 I am a 25 year old looking for literate, 3rd person 21+ writers to do MxM romance set in fandom universes! At the moment, I am still searching for the following roles to be filled:

ATLA/LOK: Sud or the next avatar original idea I have (can explain)

Back 4 Blood: Evangelo

Big Time Rush (showverse): Carlos

Dachabo: Bo

Danny Phantom: Kwan

Game of Thrones (show) Jon Snow

Gravity Falls: An OC x OC concept

Hunter x Hunter: Zepile

Inuyasha: Koga’s son (an OC-ish concept I have)

Komi Can’t Communicate: Mono

Let’s Play (Webtoon): Umed

My Dear Hatchet Man: Stu

My Hero Academia: Hanta, Shoji, Ojiro

Pokémon: Brock

Scott Pilgrim: Wallace, Todd, Matthew

Something’s Wrong With Sunny Day Jack: Jack, Joseph

Star vs the Forces of Evil: Tom

Stranger Things: Eddie

Teen Titans: Beast Boy

TMNT: Raph, or Swift (from the Streetpunk AU)

Total Drama: DJ, Rodney

Yugioh: Mako, Bastion, Chumley, Crow, Gong Strong

All characters will be aged 21+

I am OCxCanon and double friendly, so if there is anyone you’ve been hoping for, run it by me! Though I am fine with NSFW, I do not want it to consume the entire plot. My focus is on romance and plot.

If interested, heart this post and we can exchange discords! 🎃

-

#ATLA rp #LOK rp #back 4 blood rp #big time rush rp #dachabo rp #danny phantom rp #game of thrones rp #gravity falls rp #hunter x hunter rp #inuyasha rp #komi can't communicate rp #let's play rp #my dear hatchet man rp #my hero academia rp #pokémon rp #scott pilgrim rp #something's wrong with sunny day jack rp #star vs the forces of evil rp #stranger things rp #teen titans rp #TMNT rp #total drama rp #yugioh rp #rp #roleplay

[chickenlover-19]

Finally got around to finishing these. DP and Pokémon on the brain what can I say. Started these while playing Pokémon Go again (before I even realized new games were coming out like three days later lol). But yeah. Danny’s basically a Pokémon right?

Pt. 2 ft. Jack Fenton here.

Also have a bonus existential Danny under cut haha

#danny phantom #chicken’s art #dp #chicken scratch #pokemon #sam manson #tucker foley #vlad plasmius #danny fenton

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  GIMME HALF

REQUEST : “hi!! I was wondering if you could maybe write an age gap (legal obv) with female!reader × dean winchester where the reader is like in her 20s and dean's in his 40s :) just some rough smut with choking and hair pulling and spitting (if you're comfortable with it) and dean being like super "hungry" for her, like he's waited a long time for it to happen. also lots of dirty talks cause i absolutely love them hahah :) anyways im in love with your writing and all your stories! thanks a lot! <3” — anonymous

PAIRING : dean winchester x professor!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : miracle, sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst, enemies to lovers, age gap, voyeurism, smut, oral sex, p in v, praise kink, choking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, rough sex, spitting

WORD COUNT : 8.4k

A/N : devil wears prada song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — chair sex and food play. I wrote this half-asleep while listening to ASMR, like… that’s how I write most of my stories, plus, they’re always written between 00.00-02.40. Doctor Who references, ‘cause I’m a nerd. I got carried away…. Cliffhanger bc I’m cruel.

There were countless pros and cons to having houses built so close together with windows facing the same direction. 

Pros: Accidentally seeing your hot neighbour walk around naked in the living room and kitchen. Accidentally catching your hot neighbour jerk off when they think that everyone’s asleep.

Yup, she’s seen all of that and more. All from that nameless, freckled, green-eyed man next door. 

Even wholesome things, like him playing with his cute dog, babying the little rascal and spoiling it. Him cooking and baking, being wholeheartedly content with feeding it to the tall, Hazel-eyed puppy dog of a man, the tall man’s gorgeous deaf wife, and his tiny adorable son; the blue-eyed, dreamy dude in a trench coat; and that endearing young boy with blue eyes who looked like a combination of all three of the men. 

There were times where she’d seen the green-eyed man dressed as a cowboy and even a princess to entertain the little baby boy—his nephew. For sleepovers with him, he’d read him bedtime stories while being completely animated. He’d build a bunch of forts, with sheets, the couch, pillows, and some Christmas lights. He'd talk to the little boy and hold serious conversations despite neither of them being able to understand each other. He’d teach the young boy and the baby boy how to fix cars—at least he tried to. He’d pack his best friends' lunches every morning with his hair unkempt, half asleep, while sipping on some coffee. He’d even take naps with the baby, treating him as his own son. 

He’d do ridiculously endearing things, too, such as baking bread at night when he couldn’t sleep. He'd read books only when he was alone, as if he’d be made fun of by his friends, and she finally understood why. They were either romantic, erotic, or completely nerdy and abstract. He had range. He’d watch cheesy soap operas and rom-com k-dramas when he did chores. He loved to collect things such as Pokémon cards and even legos. 

There were a million things he did that she thought were cute. The windows into his house were like the screens of a television, like her favourite character, she got to see him when he’s relaxed and surrounded only by those who love him 

As for the cons, we’ll get to that…

When they first moved in, it was about three and a half years ago. She’d been visiting her family in Kansas City for her oldest brother’s birthday in June. 

When she returned to Lebanon, they had already settled down. There was a brown and beige Ford pickup truck, a black Subaru—both parked in the front, and a sleek black Impala in the driveway.

The youngest, Jack, waved at her one day when he returned with Cas after buying groceries. Then, Cas awkwardly introduced himself and Jack, and gave her the names of the other two men who were brothers, Sam is the tall one and Dean was the freckled one. 

Sam was the most social one. He’d spark up conversation with her whenever he saw her, dropping bits and pieces of information about himself, his brother, his fiancée, Cas, Jack, and Dean’s loyal dog, Miracle. 

After seven months of living together, Sam moved out with his wife, Eileen. They’d just gotten married, and they both invited her. She’d gone, the wedding was pretty, cute, and modest. Y/n had spoken to a few of their close family and friends. Dean, however, kept to himself the whole night as if he were grieving. He’d smile occasionally if any of his friends came to him, he was enthusiastic, and then he'd go back into himself.

Four months later, Sam and EIleen returned; she was pregnant. It was a boy, he’d planned on naming him after his big brother, which Y/n thought was adorable. He hadn’t told his brother, but planned on telling him the day his son was born.

Y/n could tell Dean had mixed feelings about his brother’s departure, mostly negative feelings. He loved Eileen and his nephew. But when it was just him, Cas, and Jack, he'd often drink, despite concerned, useless interventions with Cas. Unless Sam, Eileen, and his nephew were there. He’d never even glance at that top-shelf cupboard.

The good thing was that at least Dean was a happy drunk.

The first time she interacted with Dean was a few weeks after she’d returned from Kansas City, she assumed two things: his heart was closed off to new people, and he’s one hot, irritating, grumpy, sour, old man.

It was the spring semester at Kansas University. Y/n was grading her students’ creative, personal essays in the office downstairs. She was perplexed by the small percentage of her students and their inability to use proper grammar or follow the thorough, detailed checklist she created to get them to pass easily. 

Just when she thought she’d gotten great at making their lives easy, they return the shittiest, half-assed essays. She felt bad for the bad grades, but since the rest of her students managed to get perfect scores or at least proficient scores, she couldn’t just let them pass. 

Loud banging on the door startled her from reading an impressive essay. Her blood ran cold and she scrambled up from her rolling chair, ignoring that she pushed it halfway across the room. 

Her socked feet were quiet on the wooden floor, making her way quickly down the hallway until she got to the shelf where she kept her gun. She pressed it against the door and looked through the peephole, then relaxed when she saw Dean.

She was irritated by the loud knocking, though, regardless of how cute he looked when he was clearly pissed off. She opened the door and set the gun down on the table where she usually placed her keys.

“Lady, have you seen the mess you made outside?” Dean asked her, pointing behind him. She stared at him, stunned by how much prettier he looked up close. Her cheeks turned hot, but she looked past him trying to see whatever he was pointing at. 

She looked at her red Mustang parked in the front as a reminder to restock the kitchen, then looked close to where his house was. She winced at the mud and the running water from her hose going into his nice lawn.

“Shit,” she murmured, toeing her socks off before moving past Dean to turn the hose off. She got distracted by the mud and the puddles as she pulled the hose, and coiled it back where it should have been. It’s been a while since she last let her bare feet feel this beneath, the smell of wet dirt was amazing, even when it wasn’t caused by rainfall.

“Do you always do shit like this?” He asked from behind, his tone harsh. 

She frowned when she turned to look at his furious face, careful to not touch her forehead with her muddy hands when she used her wrist to move hair away from her face.  

“I’m sorry,” she apologised, tilting her head at him. He just rolled his eyes at her, then he stared at his lawn, and ran his hand down his face. “Did I do somethin’ else to piss you off?” She asked, looking around to see if there’s anything else she may have forgotten.

“One, your cat’s too damn loud, crying and meowing for my damn dog when you let him out,” he started, which made her blink in confusion. She didn’t expect something like that to get on his nerves. “And B, why the hell do you have cameras facing my place?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, her ego being injured fueled her anger and defensiveness. “Okay, listen, Doctor Who, I said I was sorry, okay?” She could tell her words stunned him by the furrowing of his brows in bewilderment, disarming him and shutting him up. “It’s not my fault your dog likes my cat, too. And the cameras are off, they’re there to scare people, so fuck off,” she snapped before she stop herself. 

Dean scoffed at her, “fuck you.” She rolled her eyes at him this time, staring daggers into his back when he turned around to get to his home.

“If you’d fuck me, maybe you wouldnt be such an asshole.” Her snide words made him freeze. He laughed dryly and he turned to face her once more, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Pretty sure I’d still hate you, sweetheart,” he chuckled, crossing his own arms. That stung, even if she didn’t know him personally and half the time she spent romanticising him based on the little bit of information she had. “And I’d rather go fuck some other chick.” She clenched her jaw and breathed in slowly, angry heat began rising up her neck the faster her heart started to beat.

Entirely unintended, she venomously spat, “according to your brother, you haven’t been lucky enough, and you’re not going to be.”

“You talking to my brother about my sex life?” He stepped closer to her, his nostril flaring in anger. Betrayal and hurt crossed his features and she realised her mistake.

“No, just overheard him ‘cause you’re an overbearing douchebag,” she lied smoothly. Truth was, Sam and Eileen did accidentally—drunkenly—tell her how hard it was for Dean to maintain a serious relationship for more than three months. They don’t remember sharing that information. It was easy for her to casually ask about Dean’s love life and availability, masking her attraction to Dean as mere surprise as to how the younger brother got married before the older one. “Makes sense now why no one will sleep with you,” she laughed mockingly, stepping closer to him defiantly.

His face was red now, too. Angry, offended, he rolled his eyes at her smug face and body language. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“Sure, yeah, if that makes you feel better,” she snorted, patting his very nice, broad shoulder with her muddy hand as she made her back into her house. Preoccupied by the small mud-print on his beige Henley, he couldn’t get the last word in or stop her from leaving him flustered in her swampy driveway.

That was the start of a horrible relationship with her neighbour. The neighbour she had a crush on. 

He found all kinds of reasons to complain. Big and small. And she secretly did things to piss him off, occasionally sabotaging his plans. 

The thing was that deep down, she still liked him, but he made her so angry and frustrated. And it felt good to see him angry and frustrated by things she caused either on purpose or accidentally. Any attention was better than no attention.

Eventually, that all changed. The fun, the it’s-better-than-nothing feeling, it didn’t last. Fourteen months later, she stopped the cruel games and decided to avoid him completely. 

When her friends offered to take her out, she agreed, even if she wanted to stay home. If Dean was home, she made sure to never say no to them, and sometimes she’d offer to take them out. Wherever.

She’d started to grade at the cafe, library, or the diner, even if Dean went to all those places often. At least he wouldn’t say anything there around all those people. 

When she grew closer to Sam, Cas, and Jack, she’d find excuses not to go over to Dean’s when they offered either food, game nights, movie nights, or random hangouts. They started to notice too—the tension, the avoidance, the hostility—and they’d go over to her place instead, often without Dean, who’d choose to go out to avoid staying home alone.

It was awful. The rejection started to hurt, yet, he had her heart in the palm of his hand. Deep down, she knew that Dean wasn’t a bad person; he just didn’t like her.

Eventually, Dean ended his animosity, too, and everything went back to ‘normal’. She slowly started to reject offers from her friends to test the water, stayed home to grade, and didn't permit her cat to leave even if it cried for an escape. If she took him out, it was with a leash she eventually got him to get used to.

They ignored each other when they crossed paths—in the driveway, at the grocery store, at diners, at the cafe. They acted like complete strangers. She’d keep her curtains closed, at least she did for the windows that face his house. She made her presence as unnoticeable and as invisible as she could to prevent causing more damage to each other.

Then, about two months ago, on Halloween, Sam, Eileen, Cas, and Jack went to her house to collect candy. Sam made a point of staying back while the rest of them walked to where Dean was waiting—looking anywhere but at her house—to convince her to go to his and Eileen’s place for Thanksgiving. 

He was honest, cute, wide hazel eyes attempting to convince her to try and make amends with Dean. She didn’t doubt it, when he told her that Dean felt guilty, but her pride was bruised, and her heart was broken. She told Sam she would be visiting her own family for that holiday. She omitted that she’d be going to her mother’s house a few miles away, still in Lebanon. And she easily convinced her mother to let her stay the rest of the week until she had to go back to work.

Now, Christmas was near—in four days, to be exact. It wasn’t the holiday spirit that made her change her mind, it was the hurt and the exhaustion of planning her life around avoiding Dean. 

So, she called Sam, she asked if he could do anything to get Dean alone tomorrow. 

For the rest of the day, she would start to prepare everything—even though it was Dean who created the mess—she was willing to make the first move and hopefully meet him halfway. 

She couldn’t lie that she felt embarrassed by how excited she was to see Dean. She couldn't even differentiate the meaning of the butterflies in her stomach, but she powered through her fluttering heart and her shaking hands as she prepared everything before going to see him.

She considered not doing it at all, calling it quits—but the consequences of that quickly made her miserable. That would just mean more avoidance, more hiding, more changing everything about herself to make him happy.

All of this over one little misunderstanding. One bad day where her mouth ran without consulting her brain first ruined what could have otherwise been a good friendship—perhaps even a romantic relationship.

She was twenty-six and just like Dean, she hadn’t had a serious relationship since… Well, ever. The last time someone convinced her to date them was in highschool, and even before that, it took her a month—or less—to figure out she wanted nothing to do with them. She didn’t like the people she dated. She realised quickly that she didn’t even want a future with them, she didn’t even allow them to kiss her or touch her. So she figured that if she didn’t want to marry them, what was the point of wasting her time?

For so long, the first thing she thought of when she felt attracted to someone was: can I stand the thought of their touch? Can I see myself kissing them, letting them kiss me? Can I stand the thought of the fights and staying with them through thick and thin? Can I picture myself with them in the future, permanently?

The answer was always ‘no’ and the attraction died immediately after the realisation. 

With Dean, the answer was different. Not for some stupid reason, like fate, or the boy-next-door trope. No. This was reality, and the real reason was the fact that she got to see who he was before she was attracted to him. 

It was the selflessness, the love in everything that he did, the gentleness of his heart, the kindness that radiated from him, and the ease in the way he did chores, the way he made his friends laugh, his playfulness, the loyalty, the way he was clearly protective. 

It was the open windows of her house into his open windows that let her see through him, down to his very beautiful core. It was the lack of hidden things, the openness of his soul because he felt safe, unwatched. It was real because Cas, Jack, and Sam were proof that even though Dean wasn’t perfect, he was worth it.

The Doctor did say once: the good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice-versa, the bad things don’t necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant. 

For the first time, she was willing to take a chance.

She smoothed down the silky emerald-green dress. It was pretty, flowing down her body perfectly, stopping at the middle of her calves…. Actually, now that she looked at herself in the mirror, her curls perfectly maintained, the light touch of makeup, the heels… was it too much?

She ignored those anxious thoughts and made sure she had everything she needed and everything that she prepared before stepping out into the cold.

The spaghetti straps didn’t stop the cold, but the heat of her nervousness at least did something as she walked up to his door and waited after knocking gently. 

When he opened the door, he was stunned to see her.

“What?” He asked bluntly. 

She could tell that the way she was dressed caught him off guard. His eyes moved from her face, up to her hair, back down to the boxes in her hands, and lower to her feet. 

“I’ve got pie,” she said the first thing her mind thought of. Yes, it was blunt, yes, it disarmed him further… It was not smooth, but Dean looked behind him, and then he looked at her once more while biting his lip before opening the door wider, and stepping out of the way for her to enter. 

She exhaled shakily as he scratched the back of his neck. Out of habit, she slipped out of her heels before stepping inside his home, planting her bare feet on the soft, long rug he had. He kindly, wordlessly, took her heels from outside and placed them on the shoe rack he had inside before shutting the door behind her.

She felt so… warm. Finally, she was inside the place she longed to be in. Right where Dean was. Along the walls there were dozens of pictures, but she didn’t go too far, she waited for him.

She felt his presence behind her and it made her shiver, but she couldn’t bring herself to look back at him. Instead, she stared at photos of him with Cas, Sam, Jack, and other people she hadn’t met. Women and Men. Dean was smiling in all of them. And in a large majority of them, they were looking at him while he looked at the camera. 

What a funny thing. 

“Here,” he said from behind her, his deep voice sounded soft, gentle, unlike the last time they spoke to each other. It made her shudder. “Let me help.” She slowly braced herself when she turned around, staring into his beautiful green eyes, illuminated magically by Christmas lights. 

“Thanks,” she whispered, carefully loosening her grip on the objects in her hand for him to take what he wanted—which was everything. 

She stepped to the side when he murmured, “no problem,” and started to walk off to the kitchen. She followed him slowly, took a look around, respectfully, curiously, just when she heard the clicking of nails and the thump of paws on wooden floors, and the bark of his dog headed in their direction. 

“Miracle,” Dean grunted, setting everything down on the table, “not inside.” While the fluffy dog did stop its excited running, his enthusiasm was not lost as he wagged his tail, and playfully got down on his stomach in front of her feet. Still on his belly, Miracle approached Y/n slowly, paws and tongue at her toes, as if testing the waters. 

“Hey,” she greeted softly as she squatted slowly and laughed quietly, gently scratching Miracle’s head as he nudged her hand with his wet nose, staring up at her with adorably wide eyes—much like Sam did. “You’re so cute,” she cooed, her heart warming up when Miracle barked quietly.

He then jumped up and turned towards Dean, who was watching them—perplexed, happy, conflicted. 

“You were asleep,” Dean scolded, but sweetly took Miracle’s head in his hands and kissed him between his ears. Miracle whined and stepped away, sitting in front of Dean as if saying ‘I’ll be good if you let me stay’. “Whatever,” Dean groaned with a smile, which made Miracle happy, because he laid his cheek on his paw and stared up at Dean, resting.

Now, it was awkward. 

Dean caught her staring at him, her expression inquisitive. She cleared her throat awkwardly, but she couldn’t form words. She only now noticed that he was wearing a faded black shirt and hotdog pyjama pants. 

“So…” Dean began instead, “pie.” It wasn’t any better, but it’s as she always said: it was better than nothing. 

“Yes,” she confirmed, “strawberry… you weren’t getting ready for bed…?” She inquired, tipping her chin in the direction of his attire. 

“Not to sleep,” he reassured her, taking a few steps toward the cupboards to pull out two plates, glass cups, and then some utensils from the lower drawer. “Why are you doing this?” Dean asked quietly from where he was across the kitchen, everything still in his hands.

“I deserve better that’s why,” she snapped. He blinked at her, guilty, but she paused and took a deeper breath. Careful to not smear her eyeliner, she rubbed her temples instead. She reached behind her to wrap her ankle around the leg of a chair to pull it out and sit down. “Sorry, I don’t like… being angry,” she breathed out, looking out his kitchen window into her dark living room. She switched the Christmas lights off. “It's very stressful because I…” She turned to look at him and forgot her words as he came closer. 

He looked cuter in person and prettier, still. Three years and nothing has changed, he still had her heart right in his hand. 

“Why?” He pressed, placing everything down on the table in front of her. Looking up at him felt intimidating, so she averted her gaze. He was much older than she was… it made her… feel dumb. See-through. Like he could figure her out in seconds. 

“Because I’m friends with your friends,” she admitted without looking at him, then she reached out to arrange the plates, cups, and utensils. He sat down thoughtfully, and watched her unstack the small boxes she brought over. 

“You’re doing this for them,” he laid out flatly, but he took a seat next to her and stared at her. His eyes on her made her self-conscious, flustered. She bet he could see everything, all the ugly and the weird in her.

“I’m doing this for me,” she corrected him gently, “I just want to be happy,” she sighed, removing the plastic wrap she placed over the pie she baked. “Is that selfish?” She wondered out loud, taking the knife, she stared at it. 

“No,” Dean sighed, wrapping his hand around hers to take the knife. She inhaled sharply at the warmth of his touch, his calloused palms brushing against the back of her hand, sending warmth over her chest, pressing into her wrist with her heart excitedly pounding against her ribs.

She released the knife into his hold, trying to hide how much he affected her, but she doubted she could fully do that with the Christmas lights exposing the blush she could feel on her face. She could feel her veins pumping blood faster, caught up with the heavy beating of her heart. If he looked down at her neck, he could probably see it in her veins.

She looked away, down at Miracle who was still peacefully laying on his belly, and Dean looked away towards the beautiful pie to start slicing into it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, taking her plate to give her the first slice. She looked up at Dean, taking the plate with a generous slice of strawberry pie. 

“I wanted to be the first to say it…” She complained playfully, trying to maintain eye contact with him, but his beauty was intimidating, forcing her to look away, “soon as my ego stopped being sensitive,” she added. 

Dean laughed softly, placing his own slice on his plate. The sound of his laugh made her smile, her stomach flipped with elation, at the crinkles by his eyes. Her breathy exhale made him look at her.

“Well, I’m forty-four, my ego’s been bruised enough times,” he told her, “I don’t care much for it when…” he trailed off and chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. She bit her lip, too, trying not to stare too long at his pretty mouth. 

“Well, thanks,” she murmured, her jaw twitching as she looked away from him. 

“I’d consider all this an apology,” he told her, gazing at her as she opened two rectangular boxes. She smiled, shaking her head. She pulled out a bottle of homemade eggnog along with a decorated jar filled with white frosting, and a small container with crushed peppermint candy. “This isn’t… poisoned, right?” He teased, still watching her while she opened the bottle of rum eggnog, she tilted her head at him, amused. “Just making sure… you did make all this…” he trailed off, impressed.

“Taste the pie,” she encouraged as she started making the drinks.

“You’re just trying to shut me up,” he chuckled gruffly, but he picked up his fork and started to dig in. The strawberry filling barely touched his tongue when he moaned, she watched him not even begin to chew. His brows furrowed and he closed his eyes, savouring the pie. 

It made her blush, but she focused on covering the rim of the cups he brought with the whiskey frosting she made and the peppermint candy shavings before filling it with eggnog.

“You made the frosting, too?” He asked, tipping his head towards the jar. His mouth was full, some strawberry filling dripped down the corner of his mouth, but he picked it up with his tongue. She licked her lips, trying to stop herself from breathing airily, and passed him the eggnog with a nod and slid the jar of frosting towards him to serve herself some eggnog. 

Dean dipped his finger into the frosting, collecting a large amount before wrapping his lips around his finger to suck the frosting off. She forced herself to look away from how hot he looked and ate her own slice of pie instead.

“I’ve seriously been missing out,” he murmured regretfully. “I was real childish,” he told her, “I never should’ve gotten pissed over… everything-”

“Dean,” she interrupted him, giving him a sheepish smile, “you already apologised and I forgive you. Besides, I did things, too.. on purpose… so, I’m sorry.” She pursed her lips and took a sip from her eggnog, swiping her tongue along the sweet frosting.

“You did things on purpose?” He repeated, a smirk on his face. She breathed out a laugh and nodded bashfully. “Why?” he wondered, leaning into her curiously, subtly moving his plate of food towards her. She considered being blunt, but she chose to test him instead.

“Probably the same reason you got pissed at everything I did and didn’t do,” she laughed, pulling a piece of strawberry out of the pie to put it in her mouth.

“I doubt that,” Dean muttered, picking up his own drink, and taking a large gulp. She eyed him closely, her eyes becoming hooded when he licked across his lips after drinking to collect the thin layer of sweetened alcohol on his mouth. 

“What was your reason then?” She wondered flirtatiously, her voice low and seductive. She pushed her plate away with her arm., and mimicked his body language, scooting forward in the chair. 

She watched as his eyes darkened and his jaw clenched, his hand tightening around his fork before he dropped it. She’d never quite been stared at that way before, but it suddenly—almost, made her laugh. Her legs felt weak, her stomach heavy, almost fooling her into thinking she couldn’t get up, but she did.

With a rapid heart and shaky knees, she pushed her chair back, and Miracle lifted his head in alarm. Dean leaned back in his chair, sliding his palms up his thighs, and watched hungrily as she lifted her dress up her legs, squeezing in front of him and part of the table to sit on his lap. 

“Seems like we’ve both been missing out on a lot of stuff,” she whispered, her stomach fluttering for a variety of reasons, but mostly from excitement. He bit his lip, eyes twinkling as he placed his hands slowly on her thighs. She sank her teeth down on her lip, too, breathing heavily when his hands began sliding up her thighs, lifting her dress higher, and higher.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, continuing to move her dress up until his hands were wrapped around her hips where he could realise she wasn’t wearing any underwear. “I thought I should tell you, before I ruin you,” he rasped, tightening his hold on her hips.

“Fuck,” she moaned, moving forward in his lap until their hips were pressed together. She brought her hands into his hair, and pulled it gently, bringing her mouth close to his, but she never kissed him. She breathed against his lips and when he leaned forward to kiss her, she pulled back teasingly.

“You’re seriously gonna make me wait?” He whispered, slowly rolling his hips up into her, his hard cock pressing into her wet core. She gasped softly against his mouth and laughed breathlessly.

“You feel good,” she praised, flushing as she ground against him harder.

“I’d feel better inside you,” he smirked, sliding one of his hands farther up her dress, his warm palm flattening up her stomach reverently, stopping beneath her breasts..

“I bet,” she moaned, arching into his touch before finally pressing her tinted lips against his. Dean moaned softly against her mouth, pressing against her hungrily, then lifted her up, carefully moving his plate and cup aside to lay her down on the table. 

“Miracle, bed,” Dean ordered when he pulled away from her lips. The dog obediently stood up and excitedly made his way to where Dean’s room was. Dean kissed her once more, drawing her attention away from Miracle and back to him.

She’d never been kissed the way Dean kissed her or touched the way Dean touched her. His hands were everywhere, testing, learning, skillful. He scratched her skin sending sparks down to her already soaked core, kneading her body roughly until she moaned against his mouth. He squeezed her and made her wet. He dug his blunt nails into her and made her nerves ignite. His hands smoothed across her, sailing over her body like she were an ocean and he was a sailor. 

He was desperate, devouring her mouth with his tongue and his teeth, putting his all into the kiss, licking her lips, teasing the inside of her mouth, brushing against her warm tongue. He yearned to memorise the taste of her mouth, to feel close to her, pressing and moaning against her the way he’d done when he ate the pie and frosting. He nibbled on her lips, tugging, biting, claiming, taking the air from her lungs and pulling away at the perfect time. 

He rolled his hips into her frantically and finally started to move away from her now-swollen lips, the colour of her raspberry tint robbed and replaced by the redness of his kiss. 

He dragged his teeth teasingly along her jaw and licked his way down her neck, pressing his stubbled face into her neck, kissing and sucking softly, searching. She rolled her head to the side, giving him all the access he needed, until finally, she moaned loudly when he sucked into her sweetspot. He smiled against her throat, feeling her take handfuls of his shirt, her hips wiggling impatiently beneath him.

He kissed lower still, then back up to the other side of her neck, and bit her collarbones, kissing every inch of her skin, her shoulders and her sternum. She loved every second of it and slipped her hands beneath his shirt, touching and scratching his skin, pulling him closer as he bucked into her bare core.

“Did you know your shirt was see-through when we first met?” He whispered into her cleavage. She laughed and replied with a breathless ‘no’. “Well.. your tits on display, legs bare in those tiny shorts, all pissed as hell… it was hot,” he chuckled, lowering the thin straps of her dress until the top started to reveal her breasts. 

“Is that why you jerked off that night?” She asked, gripping his hair and tugging hard. He grunted and laughed, staring into her lustful eyes.

“You saw?” He teased, bringing his hand to her breast, squeezing roughly. “The answer’s yes.. And everytime after that, it was also ‘cause of you,” Dean confessed, “couldn’t stop thinking about you, every day and every night. I thought I hated you, but I guess I just needed to fuck you.” 

She chuckled, gripping the hem of his shirt, dragging it up his body as he latched onto her nipple. She hummed softly, tugging hard at his hair, in complete bliss as he wrapped his mouth around the bud, licking, sucking, and biting until she whimpered for him to give her more—which was impossible. He moved onto her other breast, savouring her warm skin with his hotter mouth, tugging her neglected nipple with his fingers, twisting and pinching. 

“Please,” she moaned, yanking his hair so he’d pull away. Dean growled against her flesh and bit down hard on her breast, before pulling away, drawing a mewl from her of his name. 

“You could be nicer,” he muttered, allowing her to lift his shirt up off his body, but he continued to kiss her breasts, sucking gently around the flesh to leave red marks. He lifted her feet up on the table and pressed her thighs close to her chest, opening her up to admire her soaked sex.

“We’re long past nice, pretty boy,” she teased blushing and biting her lip when he stood up straight. She didn’t look at him, too insecure to watch him as he brought his hand to the inside of her thighs, teasing her vulva.

“You think I’m pretty?” He grinned, circling her entrance, moaning at copious amounts of arousal on his fingers. “So wet… you that needy for my cock inside you?” He asked smugly. 

She looked at him now, heat flooding up her face at his obscene words. Before she could say anything about it, the tattoo on his chest drew her attention away from the adorable pride on his face.

“You’re a hunter,” she stated, stunned, blinking at him with a smile. He looked down at himself then at her, speechless. She lifted her hips and hitched her dress up higher to reveal her ribcage where she had the same tattoo, twice as small.

“You’re a professor,” he remarked with arousal on his face, pushing his finger into her. He lowered himself down her body and wrapped his arm around her legs, holding her open as he breathed warmly against her wet cunt.

Before she could close her legs to him demurely, Dean dove in, his mouth hot on her pussy. He ate her out the same way he kissed her, teeth making her whimper, his tongue parting and tasting, picking up the flavour of her wetness as she moaned. 

He salivated on her, humming in satisfaction while he sucked her clit into his mouth while he fingered her. Her hands found his hair once more, pulling hard and almost painfully, but his cock jumped each time inside the thin material of his pyjamas. Dean added a second finger as he moaned against her swollen clit, knuckles deep, pressing against the front of her textured walls, drawing silent moans from her, making her squirm more and more. 

“Fuck,” she panted, “you’re so good,” she praised, flexing her hand above his head before gripping at the honey strands. He slurped lewdly, devouring her pussy, squeezing her hips desperately holding her close to his face while she pushed him harder against her cunt. “Dean… I’m close,” she moaned, closing her legs around his head. 

He moaned again, adding another finger, shoving deep as he circled her swollen clit with his tongue, drawing figures on her clit possessively. She gasped loudly and cried out his name, tensing up when she orgasmed, her walls clamping down on his three fingers. The rapture of her orgasm seemed endless as he continued to tongue at her clit, it made her writhe uncontrollably, and he smirked against her pussy.

Her whiny laugh and the way she squeezed his head to stop him made him chuckle, and he tapped her thigh once he pulled his fingers from within her pulsing walls. She released him, melting into the table while he licked his fingers clean of her release.

“You taste good,” he told her earnestly, “so fucking good.” She bit her lip, giving him a look of disbelief. He narrowed his eyes at her, leaning down to lick a long stripe up her pussy, then down, pushing his tongue past her clenching, wet hole. 

“Dean, fucking…” she moaned, “oh, God, why does that feel good?” She snickered, then he pulled away hovering above her. She opened her eyes to his smug face, his clean fingers squeezed her cheeks roughly until she opened her mouth. She furrowed her brows, whining out with her hands around his wrist so he’d release, but she shut up when he spit in her mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he ordered, licking his lips. Her pupils dilated as she looked into his eyes, the tangy taste of herself made her mouth water and she swallowed. “D’you know how hot you are?” He asked rhetorically, kissing her roughly once more, ravenous and stopped only when he felt her hands pushing his pants down his legs.

“I want you, Dean,” she whispered against his mouth, biting his lip before returning the passion of his kiss.

“Where?” He asked teasingly, wrapping his arm around her waist, he sat her up on the table and gently held her face in his hands, before releasing her to strip completely. 

“I want you inside me,” she told him coquettishly, hopping off the table to slowly let her dress pool around her feet. “I want to ride you, to feel you stretch me open…” she walked towards him, watching him completely aroused, a look of pleasant surprise on his face, “I want you to fill me up, and make me cum on your cock…” she licked her lips, staring down at his cock, erect and leaking precum. “... I’ve never seen a dick this nice,” she told him, wrapping her hand around the base and stepping closer to him.

He grunted, “suck it then.” She laughed through her nose, releasing his cock to fondle his balls. He moaned, stumbling slightly.  “I’ve been wanting to shut you up with my cock in your mouth,” he told her, a smirk on his face, “now, I’m just thinking how pretty you’ll look with your lips wrapped around me.” Dean reached up and curled his fingers around the back of her neck. 

She looked behind him, removed her hand, and tipped her head to the chair, “sit.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned, kicking the chair towards him like she had earlier, then he sat, legs wide and tempting. “You’re sexier than you were in my imagination,” he told her, watching her get down between his legs, kissing his thighs while looking up at him through her curled lashes. 

“Keep talkin’,” she grinned up at him, taking his heavy cock in her hand once more. Dean gave her a sexy look, smug and aroused.

“I wanna finish in your mouth,” he told her, “want to see you swallow my load.” Pleased, she moved forward and began kissing and licking the length of his cock, teasingly and experimentally feeling the velvety, veiny texture against her hand, tongue, and lips. “I want to hear you choke on my cock, and see what you look like with tears in your eyes as I fuck your pretty face.” She moaned softly, intrigued by the description of his fantasy. 

She dipped her tongue into the slit, moaning at the taste of his precum, drooling over the soft head of his cock before sucking him into her mouth.

“Fuck,” he moaned, tangling his fingers in her hair. She slowly took him deeper, pulling him out of her hot mouth teasingly, then swallowing inch by inch of his hard cock. “You’re so good at that, baby,” he panted, letting her take her time at her own pace, but he gripped her hair tightly. “Don’t stop,” he moaned, staring into her eyes as she continued to take his cock, bobbing her head, not stopping until he hit the back of her throat. She swallowed around him, and he bucked his hips up, releasing a whispered curse, attempting to keep his eyes open to watch her suck him off.

She got comfortable between his legs, taking his freehand to put it in her hair. He took her hair, put it together, and waited for her permission before slowly lifting his hips, pushing his cock slowly into her throat. When she gagged, he slowly pulled back, then pushed back into her, lips parted, releasing quick breaths. 

Eventually, he started to fuck her face in earnest, lifting his hip up off the chair, pulling her hair hard to guide her on and off his dick. Her spit dribbled down her chin in a mixture of his precum. She swallowed as much as she could, moaning and blinking tears that tickled her eyes and her jaw. 

“You look so fucking…” he chocked on a moan, “so damn sexy.” 

She ignored the soreness of her jaw, relaxing it as best as she could as he fucked her near mercilessly. Her pussy throbbed with every sound of his pleasure, clit aching for attention at the way he gazed down at her with burning desire, but she refused to touch herself, enjoying the build-up, the desperation for another orgasm, for his touch. 

He throbbed in her mouth, turning to mush beneath her mouth. He even began to whimper and moan her name, praises and dirty words becoming scarce in attempts to hold back his orgasm, edging himself with her mouth. It didn’t take long for him to hold her with her nose against his pelvis breathlessly. 

He pulled her off his cock, and released her hair to wipe tears tenderly from her hot cheeks with his thumbs, trying to get his mind off the near-pleasure of her mouth around his cock while catching his breath. 

“Yummy,” she rasped, pulling a breathless laugh from him. She wiped her chin with her shoulder and smiled up at him, slowly getting up on her knees to get rid of the ache of sitting on her legs.

She got up, leaning back against the table, admiring him in his red, flushed, somewhat sweaty state. His hair was a mess from her hands and he had a blush around his neck to his ears. She knew the hardness of his body accounted for the fact that he was a hunter, as well as the scars she felt beneath her soft hands, bite marks, bullet wounds, and healed slashes.

“Come closer,” she told him and he laughed, bringing himself and the chair closer, stopping when she sat on his thighs, fixing herself over his strong thighs. “Gonna cum if I tease you?” She asked, tapping the head of his cock. It twitched instantly and he moaned.

“Depends,” he replied breathily, sliding his hands up her body. She hummed softly, spreading her legs, positioning his cock near her soppy folds.

“On what?” She cackled playfully, parting her folds with one hand, circling her clit with her fingers. He watched her lustfully, the wetness that made her pussy shine coated her fingers.

“How wet and warm you feel on my cock,” he replied truthfully. He grabbed her hand and moved it out of the way anyway, taking his cock to push it between her folds, pressing the tip against her clit. 

“Fuck, Dean,” she moaned softly, grasping his shoulders, “you feel… I need you,” she whimpered, rolling her hips along the length of his cock. He moaned with her, moving her hips closer to him, her wetness coating his cock.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart…” Dean moaned, watching her lean back against the table, positioning the soft head of his cock to her entrance. Completely enthralled, he watched himself slip inside her, and she watched him, biting her lip hard in concentration, the stretch of her walls around him almost painful. “Fuck… I can feel how bad you need me… I need you just as bad,” he panted, flexing his hands on her thighs, desperately trying not to thrust up into her warmth. He dug his nails into her flesh, his head tipping back, his hips rolling up.

“Dean,” she moaned again, starting to lift herself up and down his cock, reaching up to cup her breast. “Shit, you feel amazing,” she breathed out, grinding her hips against his until he was fully inside her. 

“You okay?” He asked, one of hands drifting up to knead her breast comfortingly. She nodded, buried her fingers in his hair and brought him in for a kiss as she bent her knees, and tucked her feet in between his thighs.

“I could cum like this,” she mumbled against his lips. His chuckle rumbled through his chest and he shook his head, her pussy clenched at the sound and she started to lift herself up again.

“Don’t worry,” he told her, sucking on his lip momentarily. “I’ll make you cum so hard…” He paused to moan, thrusting up into her slowly, meeting her hip. “...you’ll never want to fuck anyone else,” he promised her, building up the pace of his thrusts until she stopped moving with him altogether, letting him fuck up into her needy cunt. 

“You’ll only wanna be fucked by me,” he continued, watching her lean back with her elbow on the table, her hands roaming his warm body, “and I’ll be there, ready to fuck you hard.” He looked over her shoulder, at the jar of frosting. “Pounding into your sweet cunt,” he swore breathlessly, reaching behind her, dipping his fingers to gather frosting, “makin’ you beg, makin’ you impossibly wet.” He smeared frosting over her nipples, over her collarbone, her sternum, until he had no more while she moaned his name needily. 

“Makin’ you feel things you’ve never felt before.” He gripped her hip with frosting-coated fingers, leaning forward to lick and suck the whiskey frosting from her body. “I’ll fill you up as many times as you want,” he vowed, smoothing her hand up her back, into her hair once more, pulling until she whined his name. “I’ll fuck you wherever you want.”

Her pussy continued to gush over Dean’s cock the more he talked—his breathless, husky voice taking her over the edge. Each rough pull of her hair made her mewl and whimper as she rolled her hips desperately against his. 

“Dean, please,” she whispered, scratching down his back, digging marks into his skin the harder and faster he thrusted into her. Loud skin slapping, the wet sound of her pussy being penetrated, with every push of his cock in and out of her, squelching and driving her crazy. She dug her nails into her palm, making obscene sounds that made her self-conscious.

“I’ll fuck you all over your house, all over mine.” Another moan of his name, another rough pull of her hair. “I’ll fuck you in my car, in your car, anywhere and all over town.” He pulled away from her sticky chest, licked his lips at the sight of her, so she screwed her eyes shut. She felt a warm pool of wetness on her pelvic bone, opened her eyes to him spitting between their bodies, watching his saliva drip down her folds to her clit. 

She’d never heard of or experienced sex quite this raw and dirty.

“I’ll make you scream my name, make you forget how to talk, how to walk…” She leaned back into him, panting into his ear, keeping him close while rubbing her clit. He yanked her hair, forcing her to look at him. 

“Dean…”

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered, closing his eyes, he breathed against her lips, “and I want you forever.”

As he promised, she cried out his name when she came, squeezing his cock hard, coating him in her release. He grunted her name, cursing loudly as he came inside her, his hot seed spurting into her, filling her as he said he would. 

He circled his arms around her as she writhed once more, releasing her hair as she put her arms around his neck, panting and catching her breath until the pleasure subsided.

“I want all of that,” she murmured after a few moments of silence, kissing his cheek. He squeezed her and moved back, bewildered. He moved hair from her face and tilted his head at her, drawn to her nakedness, her flushed beauty. “First, I want to shower…” Slowly, carefully, she climbed off his lap, her legs shaky, her pussy releasing the mixture of their pleasure. 

“That’s a good start,” he told her softly. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled when he stood up from the chair and looked around at the mess in the kitchen. “No one’s coming home anytime soon… thanks to Sammy…” Dean trailed off, smoothing his hand over his head to fix his hair.

“Thanks to me,” she came clean with a shy smile, bringing his gaze up to hers. His eyes twinkled and he laughed loudly, tugging her towards him again by her arm, his lips pressing against hers.

➥ sempiternal

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[puckarchives]

basement yard conversations: l. hughes

blurb: in which you overhear luke say that you’re much more attractive than him while he’s talking to jack and quinn.  / word count: 1.7k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

The conversation had taken place on the back deck of the Hughes Family lake house, and to be fair, you don’t think you were supposed to be particularly privy to it. It was nearing almost 11 PM at night, and you had just come out of the shower— clean and sun kissed and reveling in the after effects of a day well spent out in the sun with your favorite boy and your favorite family. 

This was the second summer you had spent with Luke, and by default, the entire Hughes gang as they took a much deserved rest in the off-season, now that both the Devils and Canucks had ended their seasons. So, with you being off from college and the boys not starting their training for at least two more weeks, you had opted to spend some time at the lake house in Michigan. 

That particular day, you had spent most of your morning (and afternoon, if you were being honest,) out on the lake, simply laying on the boat or joining in when the boys began wakeboarding— falling a few times, but ultimately being able to hold your own before Luke had jumped in with you, and caused you both to go tumbling into the water. 

From the boat, you could hear both Jack and Quinn laughing at you and Luke, both of you making your way over to where they had stilled in order to let you reboard, and where Luke readied himself to begin his turn— which didn’t last long, as he began swaying to the point where he just simply fell over. 

Once the four of you had come back in, it was straight to the shower for you— a moment to wash off the lake water and reapply aloe vera before your skin began to get dry. 

Walking towards the back porch, you could see the boys huddled around the fire pit— Jack and Quinn sitting in their designated chairs, and Luke in a larger seat, waiting for you with a blanket in his hand. As you walked closer however, and before you could open the screen door, you overheard a snippet of their conversation— something that always surprised you, as their conversations could exist on a spectrum of simply talking about dinner plans, to them arguing over who the most problematic Pokémon character they played with growing up; currently, Charizard was in the lead because, as Luke had stated a few weeks prior, you can’t spell the world ‘Charizard’ without ‘hazard,’ an explanation that still made no sense to you, but that the boys had agreed to almost immediately. 

Stilling at the fragments you could piece together, you could hear Jack repeating that he “definitely did have it,” but that for him, “it was louder than it was for Quinn.” You didn’t know exactly what “it” was referring to, but quickly pieced together your answer as Quinn spoke up.

“It’s like, the internet thinks I have no rizz. I got called a fucking wet cat the other day,” he said, waving his hands around. It was true— you had seen the tweet first, and then sent it to Luke, who promptly sent it into their group chat. So that’s what they were talking about— rizz. 

Although you didn’t know exactly how that had come up— when you left, they were discussing the intricacies of Zegras’ worst choices— it was still a novelty to take in— the way that Quinn would talk in his broody way, only exacerbated by the winces he would occasionally give off because of his gnarly sunburn, whereas Jack was all excited hand movement and loud laughs. But it was your boy, specifically, who had all of your attention— Luke’s soft smirk on his lips, the way he would wait until either boy was finished talking before including his own thoughts, and the way he would keep egging on his brothers. However, you didn’t miss the way he would open his mouth to say something, but automatically be either shut down, or have to wait for another turn to avoid interrupting his brothers. While Luke may have been a killer on the ice, he was still the youngest brother— caught up in trying to work his hardest to be on the same level as his brothers, but still always beating himself up for it. 

You didn’t think there had been a day where Luke went without comparing one thing about himself to his older brothers— whether it be simple comments about how he needed to get faster in order to compete with Quinn’s own speed, or even have better hand-eye coordination in order to keep up with Jack, it was always something that he lacked, and he never paid attention to the things he did have— things that you loved about him, like the way he would always bring his brother’s up in conversation— always with a smile on his face, and always reminiscing on their childhoods. He never spoke ill of anyone, (even when they deserved it,) and when he had hurt another player on the ice a few weeks back he had made it a point to apologize personally, and even send them a card. Luke, for all the faults he saw in himself, had one-hundred times the good parts, even when he didn’t recognize them. 

It was the next few sentences, however, that caught your attention; now, the conversation had switched over from Jack and Quinn’s respective levels of charmism and ability to, as they so eloquently put it, “pull and have game,” to Luke’s, he looked down, still with a small smirk on his face, and played with his thumbs. 

“Well, you see her,” Luke said. “She's definitely much more attractive than me, and if anything, I have the rizz because she was strong enough to get my head out of my ass and see that she had been there the entire time,” he laughed. 

His brothers only egged him on, adding in moments where they saw Luke, quote on quote, ‘have game,’ including earlier that same day, when the four of you were out on the boat. When you had been putting together the coolers for the boys to lug on to the boat, Luke hadn’t missed a beat and, while you were chopping up pieces of fruit on the kitchen island, had flirted with you like he had never met you before, and hit on you. 

“Well hello, pretty lady,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, and flexing his arms above his back. He puffed out his chest in a mock bravado, and continued. “You come here often? Because you’re a sight for sore and beautiful eyes,” he said, scooting closer to you. For as cheesy as he was, Luke loved doing this— hitting on you as if you were two teenagers in the 80’s, and as if he hadn’t been your boyfriend for the past two years. 

“You know, I’d love to take you out on the boat sometime, if you’re free?  I’ll even let you drive it if we leave your boyfriend on the shore,” he said, now with his arms actually up, and him, (once again,) flexing. God, you’re boy was a total softie. 

Your only response was heaving laughter, as anytime Luke got like this it only brought a smile on your face. “Well, sir, my boyfriend would surely be disappointed in me if I just left him on the shore” you jokingly replied. “And besides, he’s old. I’m not sure his fragile heart could take it if I just up and left,” you said, before closing the cooler and making your way outside. 

Luke scrambled after you, only to grab the cooler out of your hands, open the door, and drop it right outside. Before you could ask why, he whistled over at Quinn who was waiting for the two of you on the deck, and scooped you up in his arms, before making his way to the dock, you still laughing, and him looking at you with a look of pure adoration, and, in your opinion— full of love. 

Now, however, as you stood on the other side of the screen door, you opened it, automatically calling all three heads to look in your direction, and, as you walked towards Luke who had his arms open to you, said: “No, Luke’s definitely lying. This man has ALL the rizz. How do you think he keeps me coming back over-and-over for more?” you asked the other two, giving your boyfriend a kiss on the forehead as you stood between his legs and pet his still-wet curls. 

“He can say that I’m the one who got him to notice me, but your brother? The ultimate rizz king,” you laughed, trying to mimic what you heard the gamers on TikTok say about rizz the other day. 

“But, to settle your debate once and for all, I have literal proof of who has the most rizz,” you announced, to which the other two Hughes brothers cheered and egged you on to show them. Pulling up Twitter on your phone, you scrolled through your favorited tweets before getting to one that had made you bust out laughing only days prior, but that labeled what kind of “rizz” each Hughes brother had. 

“According to this tweet, a certifiable source if I’ve ever seen one,” you joked, “Quinnjamin Hughes has the rizz level of a wet cat you want to take home, and of a man that just makes your “I CAN FIX HIM” fever go crazy, Jacket Hughes has the rizz of a man who had a borderline homoerotic relationship and a praise kink all in one, and Lucas Warner Hughes has the rizz of a man who will always shoot up and knows it,” you finished. 

As you closed your phone and set it down, you looked up at the faces of the Hughes dynasty around you— Quinn was shaking with laughter, his head in his hands, Jack was wheezing in the corner over you calling Quinn “Quinnjamin” and the way they had gotten all of their names wrong, and Luke despite the jokes, was looking directly at you. He wasn’t laughing like his brother’s, but instead looking at you with the softest smile. 

“And don’t I know it, sweetheart,” he said.

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #nhl imagine #hughes brothers #new jersey devils #nj devils #jack hughes #quinn hughes

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: escaping Hawkins was impossible, but he did it. when a ghost from your past shows up unexpectedly, bringing with him old memories and holding up a mirror to the train wreck life you’re living… you find it hard to trust him again.

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ no minors, depictions of poverty, child neglect/ endangerment, drug use/abuse, alcohol use/abuse, endangerment, 18+ sex working, 18+stripping, violence, smut. no use of y/n reader has a name that’s introduced in the first chapter, and another “nickname” that is lightly used throughout this series. eddie also has a nickname given by reader.

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: this series switches pov’s between reader and eddie, thank you to @succubusmunson @joejoequinnquinn @choke-me-eddie @sweetsweetjellybean for helping me read through the first chapter, helped me brainstorm etc i love you

there are two easter eggs in this let me know if you catch em! like pokémon only not

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: here i come, but i ain’t the same

masterlist

Stupid fucking bitch.

One dial tone waned into another, a monotonous wave taunting you from the end of the receiver. Your fingers tap impatiently against the counter. How long could a phone actually ring before it stopped or someone finally answered?

Too damn long apparently. 

Giving up and counting your losses, you slam the receiver back on the wall, muttering more choice words as you skirt your hips behind the wooden bar, thumbing through the blue lined notebook schedule.   

Work was packed. More-so than any other Friday night, but since it was the beginning of graduation weekend for Hawkins High— every Sam, Dick, and Harry had wandered into the bar looking for a cheap escape and a sugary drink. 

Lucky for them, that was exactly what Queen of Hearts had on the menu. And if you talked to the right person, the luck didn’t stop there. 

“No answer?” Jolene called over her shoulder, hands full with a bottle of Jack Daniels. 

Scribbling an angry dark mark through the name Ginger on the schedule, you toss the notebook back into the drawer shutting it with your hip.

“Just rang and rang,”  you say, annoyingly jumping in to help her finish pouring three Jack & Cokes. The soda fizzes under your thumb, “and before you try to cover for her, this is the fourth time she’s done this.” 

She lets out an exaggerated sigh, taking the cans from you and tossing them into the trash.

“Really thought this one would work out,” her long legs cross behind you to slot the liquor bottle back in its designated spot, “she had kids.. poor thing needed the cash.” 

The familiar ache of neglect radiated through you, “I found a babysitter for the nights she was working, told her I’d help pay… that asshole she keeps around probably found out she was working here.” 

Jolene raises her eyebrows. Her slender fingers hold the three drinks with ease, setting them on a tray.

“Can’t believe Jackie skipped town with that rich salesman,” she sighs heavily, leaning an elbow on the sticky bar, “lucky girl, something like that would never happen to me.” 

Jealousy pings in your chest but you shake it off, “he was really dreamy huh? Those beauty marks? His hair? His ass?” You wolf whistle, “cut me a slice.” 

You weren’t jealous that Jackie was now probably driving a BMW, that her life would be nothing but luxurious from here on out, or even that her boyfriend was movie star hot. 

What made your blood boil over was the fact that she got out, and you were still stuck here like hardened gum underneath a table. 

The club was a part of you. Like an unwanted birthmark, this lifestyle was something you couldn’t get away from. Understanding at a young age, when most girls were playing with dolls, just exactly the kind of life you were destined to live, and unfortunately it wasn’t outside of these four walls.

“Your time will come,” Jolene smiled, looking into a compact and wiping a smudge of lipstick from her teeth, “you’re still young, Miss Assistant.” 

You rolled your eyes, placing the tray on her awaiting palm. Since Jackie was gone, her job was now yours.  Tacking on added responsibilities with no pay raise in sight. You found out all too soon what a fucking joke that title of ‘assistant’ actually was. 

“Told him I didn’t want it, but you know how that went.” 

“I do kid,” she sighs, looking down at you, her eyes sweeping over the still pink scar in your eyebrow, “I really… oh honey, you’re gonna be a busy little bee tonight!” 

You breathe heavily through your nose, dragging your hands down your face, “don’t remind me.” 

“I’ll help out wherever, ‘kay?” 

Jolene had taken you under her wing when you first walked into Queen of Hearts. Freshly eighteen almost down to the hour, naive waters brimming your eyes, forced into this life. 

Her motherly ways comforted everyone, only thirty-three but in this industry that was practically ninety. Just like you, Jolene had deep roots in this place. 

Her tall frame slinks over to the waiting guys sitting at the stage, a pleasant smile on her lips. Twirling the ends of her black hair twisted into schoolgirl pigtails, laying the charm on thick. 

Staring over at her in a forlorn gaze, you hated to think of yourself still here ten years from now, a permanent fixture to this place, like Jolene. The lemons of life were squeezed and you had made the lemonade, but it was sour, bitter.. you longed for something sweeter. 

The bubbly fantasy is popped when Mickey Fritz’ oversized hand hits the counter like he’s a toddler in a highchair.

“Hey sugar tits, I’m empty o’er here!”

Your nightmare reality comes back into view. 

The walls at Queen of Hearts were draped in deep shades of red velour, a cozy ambiance to invite strangers and locals alike. The bar was backlit and stocked with a decent selection of polished bottles of whiskey, gin and bourbon. 

His boots clapped along the wood floor as the pair walked further inside, leaving a plume of smoke in their wake, catching on the neon lights and creating a smoked crimson haze across the dark club.

The raised stage was centered, creating an aisle on either side of it, clad with leather backed red chairs surrounding it at every angle. For a night club in the middle of Indiana, it wasn’t half bad compared to the places he was used to out East. 

A row of booths were tucked onto the left side of the club, high top tables stood crowded with drunk college students, yelling loudly and making asses of themselves to impress the working girls. 

The music blaring over the speakers was a little cliche and too “pop” for his liking—fuck, had he really turned into one of those guys, questioning what a strip club was playing for music? 

He rolls his eyes at his own false pretentiousness, turning it into a wink at a cocktail waitress carrying a tray full of plastic flutes filled with a gut rot of pink liqueur. The gold thong she was wearing sat high on her hips, matching the cheap glittery cowboy hat on her blonde curls. 

Dark eyes follow her long legs to a nearby table, a fist to his mouth as he whistles and licks his chomps.

“Damn! Can you believe this used to be the Hideout?” Jeff squawked, not so casually adjusting himself as they slid into an open booth, “that was Gareth Emerson’s twin sister, she really grew up huh, remember him?”

He didn’t.

Much like anyone else Jeff had tried to bring up since he had agreed to meet up for a drink on the occasion that they were both home, he hadn’t given high school a second thought since the night he left. 

“Nah, man,” he said, grabbing for the sticky menu on the black table top, “I don’t.”

It had been years since he had seen Jeff, and he was surprised that he had recognized him at the gas station last night when he was filling up his motorcycle. 

His own appearance hadn’t changed much, dressed a little better, wore cologne now, normal shit that came along with getting out of puberty. 

Back then Jeff still had braces, a small lisp when he got really drunk. Now, he was a grown man. Living in Phoenix with a big important job at some company, home for the weekend to visit his parents, and watch his youngest brother graduate.

There would be no visiting family or old friends for him on this trip back to Hawkins. The thought of running into anyone he knew and having that painfully awkward small talk about the ‘good old days as a Tiger!’ made him cringe, as if that ever were the case for him. 

Having left this shit hole in the middle of the night seven years ago, he took nothing with him but some saved cash, his guitar, a full tank of gas and the clothes on his back. 

The heavy ache in his chest, brim filled with remorse, was an added carry on, something that didn’t go away with the miles he had put between him and Hawkins. 

He had planned to keep this town in the rearview, but life, probably karma, had other plans. 

Back in Hawkins strictly on “business,” that's what he told Jeff when the smiley old friend grabbed him into a bear hug in the checkout line, crushing the chips he was carrying to a powder in its aluminum bag. 

Technically, it was family business. But he hadn’t mentioned that to Jeff. He didn’t want the questions, didn’t want the pity.

He barely even knew his uncle that well anyway, but being the only living relative of the deceased, he didn’t have a choice when the call came through that he had passed. 

A week. That was the timeframe he told his job that he’d be gone for. Leaving just enough time to plan the funeral, and sell the trailer. 

Coming home to the haunting shadows of Hawkins was like playing in a graveyard filled with demons of his past. Sorrow filled every dark corner, looming around him like a fog, making him unable to forget the damage left behind. 

For years it had worked out fine, he had moved on. But every now and then, he had to push his inner demons down, and still to this day, years after the fact, they kept trying to crawl back up. The shame of his past coming to the forefront.

The music changes to another upbeat song that was popular on the radio, Jeff nods along to the beat, strumming his fingers against his belly like he was playing the guitar. 

He looked over at his old highschool friend and smiled for the first time since being back here, “still play?”

Jeff stretched a wide grin across his face, chuckling a little too loud, “only in my dreams… working seventy-hour weeks doesn’t really allow me to have that kinda freedom.” He nodded and smiled a little at the waitress who was coming to take their drink orders, “so what have you been up to man? It’s been years!”

He knew all too well about not having free time to spend the way he had wanted to. He didn’t even own a guitar anymore. The last time he saw his Warlock, it was sitting in a pawn shop in Nashville— the last of his many possessions sold to make ends meet. 

Ordering a beer, he counts his budget for this trip in his head, deciding to buy Jeff’s drink too. Maybe being back wouldn’t be so bad after a drink or two, a little liquid courage to get him through the night at least.

The pleather seat creaks beneath his weight when he leans back further into the booth, stretching his arms out wide. Trying to gain a sliver of comfort since being home. 

Working the pole to Ginger’s song of choice, Once Bitten, Twice Shy, you found it hard to get into music you could care less about. But you didn’t have time to complain. 

Legs crossed and spinning upside down, bare besides a face full of makeup and a red thong, you pretended that you were anywhere else but there. 

How nice it would be to not have to crawl across dirty dollar bills, teasing a faceless man with your body so that he would be eager enough to slip a twenty into your g-string.

Collecting your tips from your set, you tap them against your vanity in the dressing room, counting out loud your mind already knowing how much money will be put away after bills are paid. 

The long jagged crack in your mirror served as the only looking glass you liked to look in. The warped shapes of your face looking back at you made it easier to swallow the life you were living, as if it were a fever dream, a disturbed Alice in Wonderland type reality. 

In the mirror you weren’t a dancer at Queen of Hearts. You could be a nurse, a librarian, a cook in a shitty home town restaurant who went home smelling like grease instead of men’s cologne and wearing suspicious stains. 

It could be easy, simple really. Bus tickets weren’t terribly expensive. Going to any city, a map in your hand and the saved coffee can of cash tucked into your purse. You could almost imagine the taste of the ocean. The thought of even stepping outside of Indiana was enough to power you for the rest of the night. 

As easily as the daydream came it fluttered away when the boss stepped into the dressing room. 

His eyes loomed in a dead stare, sweat pooling on his temples. The ice in his glass shifted as it melted into the whiskey. A Colombian cigar tucked into his fat mouth had an inch long ash waiting to fall. 

He wasn’t much taller than you, barely older, but his attitude and small dick made him seem eight feet tall. 

“The hell are you doing in here? Fucking Christ woman, the girls are drowning out there, those needle dick college fucks are about to swing fists and you’re in here staring at yourself?”

“Just takin’ a little break Tommy, I gotta change.” 

“I don’t need any lip from you, better watch it before I match that other scar y’ hear me?” 

His threats didn’t scare you, it was who he answered to that made you terrified. A bad report to the big boss and you’d be drinking your meals through a straw. You knew because it’s already happened. Turns out you don’t need your mouth to swing around a pole. 

“Loud and clear.” 

This type of life was the only one you had ever known. You quite literally grew up with this environment right under your nose, and everyone at the club knew it. 

The romance novels you kept in your purse were full of knights in shining armor type of men, another fallacy to your looking glass. 

The thought of anything else was only real in your daydreams. Escaping the festering wound of Hawkins was impossible, almost unheard of. No one with your background got out. 

But he did.

Shoulder to shoulder, squeezing in sideways with grimy singles fisted in their hands, the club was stuffed to the hilt with sweaty, drunk, and extremely horny men. 

“… here!” you slam two more drinks onto the heaping tray and shove it into Wendy’s hands, “take this to those asshats and tell them we are out of triple sec, no more Long Island Ice Teas, if they want a drink they can order beer like everyone else.”

Wendy swung her hips with the Long Islands in tow over  to soften the hearts of the college boys. Batting her lashes, sitting topless on their laps and letting them tell her stories of the parties they went to, the classes they skipped and the girls they fucked. Anything to keep them from hollering and starting a fight with the locals. 

Lisa Ann was working over the business men from out of town, their briefcases shining with a matte patent leather, expensive watches adorning their wrists. Her pretty Marilyn Monroe smile on display as she brought over their drinks, tussling their hair between her pink fingernails, putty at her fingertips.  

Between the rest of you rotating between pouring drinks, collecting payments and trying to wiggle past the grabby hands of Donny, the roar of the busy hour had started to lull. 

All of you were tired and crabby, legs cramping and toes pinched in uncomfortable shoes. Jolene wiped her brow and blew out a deep breath. 

“Take fifteen,” you said to her, “I got it from here.” 

She shot you a wink and disappeared into the dressing room. 

Peeling the soles of your boots from the floor you lean your back against the shelf of liquor bottles. Working your hands on the base of your neck behind your head.

The usual crink that ached when you were stressed was flaring up again. Causing your shoulders to tense up and sending a pinched dull ache from your back up to your throbbing temples. Radiating your jaw, with a heat so fierce it could melt glass and it wasn’t even eleven o’ clock yet. 

Your eyes are pressed closed in a tight squeeze, maybe you could shut the pain out by pretending it wasn’t there.

“Tiffs just about done in room D,” Veronica chirped, her bracelets jingling in a metallic tune, “the ‘doctor’ again,” she explains with air quotes chuckling to herself.

“He’s only here on nights she’s workin’” you say exhaustedly,  “she’s his favorite.” 

Being one of the few regulars that wasn’t married, he was somehow the slimiest worm in the dirt. Tall and slender framed with icy white hair, he seemed to stare down his nose at the girls, his voice an eerily calm when he asked for Tiff, handing over the crisp fifties to secure her for the allotted amount of time. 

Beads click together as she stumbles in from the back, adjusting her lipstick and holding the ripped strap of her bra, followed behind her like clockwork was the doctor, tucking his oxford shirt into his slacks. 

Your jaw felt like it was going to ignite, as if it were covered in tension rods and the gears were  cranking it tighter and tighter, sweat beginning to form on your back, “can you hand me my purse?” 

Rustling your bag from underneath the bar, Veronica hands over the canvas tote, her emerald eyes staring at you expectantly like a serpent watching its prey, “care to share those little party favors?” 

Rolling your eyes, you move your hand through the contents inside. Pushing past a checkbook, lipsticks, and the papered corner of a tampon. Finally your fingers close around the smooth unlabeled bottle. 

Two tablets land in your palm when you pop the cap, and you shake it begrudgingly to release another tablet from the bottle for Veronica.

She giggles and grabs two shot glasses, pouring bourbon into them both. 

“Only one,” you instruct, a serious look in your eyes, “I’m not picking you up from the floor later.” 

A coy little smile on her lips, she brings the shot glasses over, handing one to you, “you worry too much.” 

Placing the pill in her free palm, you clink the glasses together in a little cheer. 

“To us,” Veronica grins, “may our titties stay perky, our asses juicy, the boys pockets fat and our kitties not loosey.” 

You roll your eyes and she laughs, her lips close around the glass the same as yours, and you swallow down the liquor, wincing at the taste. 

Within fifteen minutes the temporary high coats your brain like a warm blanket, floating you to a place far away from shiny poles, 6 inch heels, and ass slaps, away from Hawkins. 

Jeff listens intently as he explains a very bland and watered down version of how he left Hawkins and traveled east, working odd jobs. 

Skipping the part about how he lied about his age to find work, and how he spent an entire month getting his ass kicked after dishwashing shifts at some swanky restaurant outside of Raleigh. 

He explained the good stuff, how he worked part time at a tattoo shop for one of his buddies he met in Philly. His full time gig being a lead shift at a factory. 

It wasn’t that impressive, he knew that, but he couldn’t make himself give a shit what anyone thought of him. For only being twenty-three, he was proud of having a paycheck every two weeks from a legit place. 

The click of the waitresses shoes on the floor had Jeff looking up, thanking her for the drinks. She was dressed a little more conservative than the other waitresses had been, wearing a black mini skirt and a see-through red long sleeved top, showing off black sparkly stickers that covered her nipples. 

But that wasn’t what had him taking a second look. At first glance he thought maybe it was just a note written in pen, a reminder of some sort on the top of her hand, lots of people wrote on their hands right? But when she set the drinks down, reaching past them and across the table to grab a napkin, sopping up spilled beer, he almost choked on air.

It wasn’t something written in pen, or a weird unlucky shaped birthmark. The marks on her hand were two small symbols, they had faded with time and were blown out a little on the edges. 

Of course they were, because the identical marks on his hand were blurred the exact same way. Two little symbols, done on the hottest day in July. The smell of his childhood room stung his nose as he thought of that day. 

A day when you were both only thirteen. 

The regulars were bellied up to the bar holding an aluminum can toast to their long gone friend, hollering for you to play some David Allen Coe in a final goodbye. 

Flicking through the jukebox to find “Never Even Called Me By My Name,” you were too busy to pay any attention to the toast of the deceased buddy.

Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t have been completely blindsided. 

“Clovie?” A disgustingly sweet saccharine voice laced between bubble gum pink lips sang out from behind you, tapping you simultaneously on the shoulder, “be a dolly and run the drinks over to table 8, would ya?”

“Why c—”

Tiff was already gone, the door to the dressing room swinging shut in a shower of White Diamond perfume before you could even spin around and tell her where she could shove those aforementioned drinks. 

Outside of collecting her own tips, and pleasuring the doctor, Tiff never lifted a finger to help. 

Wiping your hands on the cleanest towel you could find, your muttering goes unheard as you cross back over to the bar and grab the cracked black plastic tray set with two large overflowing mugs of draft beer. 

The ground was sticky under your boots, like walking in half dried paint, sometimes you wondered if Wendy actually served a full drink to anyone. 

Balancing the heavy tray on your palm and shoulder, you pray that it won’t snap before you’re able to place the drinks down. 

Table 8 was occupied by a guy you had seen before but couldn’t remember from where, and a long dark curly haired woman who was facing away from you. 

The smile on your face was the fakest one you could make, hoping to maybe get a good tip before Tiff could notice and take her claim. 

“Alrighty,” your customer service voice sang with a false sweet sincerity, “looks like we have two Busch Lights?” 

The guy you had greeted smiled eagerly, moving his elbows from the table allowing room for the frosty mugs to be placed. 

Your fingers work gingerly to set the ruby colored drink napkins down first. The beer was placed carefully, his greedy fingers grabbing the handle before you could barely remove your hand from it. 

The second beer started to slide on the tray, and you over corrected causing it to land with a thud on the table, sloshing the pale ale all over the table—luckily not on the woman. 

So much for a tip, huh?

Apologizing quickly, you lean across the table and reach for the paper napkins. Wiping up the mess hastily you toss the wet heap onto your tray. 

Turning to the woman to offer her a look that’ll hopefully get you in her good graces— well enough that maybe her husband would reconsider tipping, “I’ll go fetch a rag and come back with another beer free of charge sweetheart,” you start to smile sheepishly, “I’m so s—”

The eyes you were met with were the deepest shade of brown, struck with astonishment, crowded by a grove of thick lashes, a look of dismay etched into them. 

Blinking once, twice, you couldn’t register if you were truly seeing this or hallucinating. 

You hadn’t seen those eyes in years, a flash of recognition drops on your face and the perky smile fades. Heart falling to the well of your stomach, punching the air from your lungs, heat rising to the surface of your cheeks. 

In an instant, you’re brought back to many years before tonight. When those eyes were younger, full of teenage angst and rebellion. 

Hell must’ve froze over, pigs were without a doubt flying overhead: Eddie Munson had returned to Hawkins. 

taglist: @mmunson86 @sidthedollface2 @winchester-angel @mrsjellymunson @joannamuns9n @tlclick73 @mewchiili @spacedoutdaydreamer @emxxblog @maybeisthemoon @str4ngergirlw0rld @chrrymunson @insertcoolnameherethanks @kellsck @prestinalove @mandyjo8719 @onegirlmanytales @mopeymopeymouse @veravee-blog @taintedcigs @eddies-acousticguitar @oeuryale @kthomps914 @bangaveragewhitewine @lil-quinnie @corrodedcoffincumslut @definitionwanderlust @madaboutjoe @littledemondani @eiightysixbaby @usedtobecooler

#eddie munson #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie fan fiction #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things

[harlowsbby]

Late Nights In

Requested, being laid up with Jack and the two of you just spending some much needed time alone together.

“Shit that shit hurts babe.” Jack groaned.

“It wouldn’t hurt if you just learned how to keep straight! Whenever you move I end up plucking your skin instead.” You told him and leaned his head back.

Jack was soon regretting his decision on staying in tonight instead of going on with the boys. Since Jack had just gotten back from tour all he wanted to do was spend time with you.

But he didn’t know spending time with you would lead to you plucking his eyebrow and placing a bunch of pimple patches to pimples that he didn’t even know he had.

“You were the one that was curious to know what it felt like so I’m showing you.” You told him as you concentrated on his eyebrows.

“Alright I love you but that’s enough.” He whined and pushed your hands away from his face gently. You stiffed a laugh but nonetheless sat up.

Jack’s hand were on either side of your waist as you sat on top of him. “So what do you wanna do now?”

“What do you usually do on your little self care nights when I’m not here?” He asked.

“Well I order in some food, I put a few pimple patches on my face, drink lots of lemon water.” He grimaced at the mention of lemon water.

“Okay so we won’t do the lemon water.” You laughed. “Ooo let’s do face mask and after I’ll apply the little pimple patches to you face, then we can make some food?”

“Sounds good babe.” He smiled and the two of you made your way into the bathroom.

Jack stood there as you got all of your products out, his eyebrows scrunched together when you went to place a pink headband on his head that pushed back his curls.

He didn’t mind it but it was the big pink bow on top of it that threw him off. “What is this for?” He asked.

“You use it to push your hair back whenever you do your skincare so stuff doesn’t get into your hair.” You told him. “Which mask do you wanna use?”

You held up two mask one was a aloe mask used to make your skin shine and glow and the other was a clay mask that was used to clean pores that were deep in the skin.

“Hmm let’s do the clay on last time you had me looking like a shiny diamond with the other mask.” You huffed but nonetheless placed the mask on his face.

The two of you sat there for about fifteen minutes to let the mask do it’s work. You sat on the counter while Jack stood between your legs.

“Let’s play a little game while these dry?” He suggested. “Okay what’s the game.” He grinned.

“It’s called what’s my biggest ick, we both tell one another what our biggest ick’s about each other are.”

You squinted your eyes at Jack slightly. “And what makes you think this is a good idea?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t think it’s a good idea but come on I know I don’t have any bad ick’s.” You laughed.

“Okay so my biggest ick about you is the fact that you take hours to get ready.” Jack said with a smirk on his face.

“And? I’m a woman I’m gonna take hours to get ready.” You told him. “You can’t get mad they said this is good therapy for couples.” Jack said quickly.

“Okay Jack since this is good therapy.” You stated with a bitter tone.

“My biggest ick about you is the fact that you treasure those damn Pokémon cards more than me.” He gasped and covered his mouth with his hands.

“No you didn’t.” He said in disbelief.

“Did I lie? I mean come on I love Pokémon too but you literally dust off every single page everyday, you won’t even go to bed until you’ve counted each card and cleaned each card.”

You weren’t lying Jack treated his Pokémon collection like it was gold.

One night the two of you were in the bed just kissing and loving on each other when he suddenly remembered he had to go clean them.

“You know what I don’t think I wanna play this game anymore.” He mumbled making you laugh.

“Oh don’t act like that now when you just stated you can’t get mad now.” You mimicked his voice.

“But come on it’s time to take these off.” You told him and removed his mask along with your face, after you took them off you washed your face and Jack washed his.

You placed a few flower themed pimple patches on the red spots on his face and the two of you made your way downstairs.

“What are we making?” You looked through the fridge trying to find something that looked good but nothing seemed to pop out to you.

“You wanna order in some wings and fries?” Jack nodded his head and took out his wallet. “Sounds good baby.”

While the two of you waited for the food to arrive you both laid on the couch together trying to find something to watch before the food got there.

“What do you feel like watching? Something scary or something cute.”

You asked Jack as you scrolled through all the different types of movies on Netflix but Jack wasn’t paying attention though, he was focused on you.

Jack appreciated nights like this he loved how you didn’t care to spend a night in with him and that you weren’t all about the going out and being seen type vibe.

He was lucky he had someone who was understanding of his lifestyle, someone who understood him and loved him for him.

He knew nobody was perfect but you on the other hand you were perfect in his eyes at least.

“Jack?!” The sound of your voice brought him out of his little trance. There you sat with a worried look on your face. “Yeah babe?”

“I’ve been calling you name for the past five minutes are you okay?” You asked him. He smiled and nodded.

“I’m okay I’m just admiring my girl.” He grinned when you looked away but he knew you had a small smile on your face.

“Why you hiding? Lemme see that face.” He leaned up a bit on his spot from the couch and grabbed your chin and turned your face to meet his.

“You know I don’t like when you hide from me.” He said. “I know.” You mumbled.

“So why are you hiding?” You shrugged your shoulders. “You just make me nervous but in a good way.” You told him and Jack chuckled.

“I love you.” He whispered softly. “I love you too Jack but hurry up and kiss me.”

He chuckled but nonetheless pulled you into his and pressed his lips against your lips.

You felt his grip on you tighten as he moved his lips passionately against yours.

The show the two of you put on was long forgotten about now, the only thing that mattered was being wrapped up in Jack’s arms and giving him endless kisses.

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Vinny/Tony, Fourniers; one-trick pony

For the prompt: Dying for a Vinny/Anton update!

Thomas never had time for hobbies, not really. As a child, maybe, but the first time he volunteered to play goalie in house league he knew that was what he wanted to do.

He doesn't mean in a ‘with his life’ sort of way, though it was that too. More like every time he wasn’t actually on the ice, in the net, he thinking about it, practicing skills for it, working on his reflexes, his flexibility. Doing a hundred jumping jacks a day after a teammate’s older sibling told him it’d make him taller. He kept it up even after his coach told him that wasn’t how height worked, just in case he was wrong. Anything to get better.

It’s not that Thomas slacked on the rest of his life or anything — when he was at school he was at school, and when he was with friends, he was with friends, though he did make Meg shoot on him more than he probably should have, and when he was camping with his dad, he was in the wilderness.

But he never had enough ice time to satisfy him, never had enough teammates putting shots on him, never had enough time one-on-one with the Sudbury Wolves goalie coach that gave him some sessions as a favour because he was his teammate Zack’s uncle. Because Zack told him that Thomas had ‘it’.

And if Thomas didn’t have ‘it’ before those sessions, he did after, that edge that nobody else his age had. Advice on his blocker hand, sure, but more important things: on eating a clean diet. On prioritizing mobility above everything else. On what he could play through, and what he couldn’t, and if he didn’t know, to take that time just to be safe. That his mental toughness was as important as his physical toughness, and then some.

He had teammates who would sneak time during the long drives to games in the surrounding towns, entertained by Game Boys, books, Pokémon cards, but Thomas had a bad case of motion sickness he didn’t manage to shake until he was in Juniors, and spent so much time on a bus it started to feel stranger not being in motion. Besides, he was already thinking about the game ahead.

But lack of practice or not, Thomas probably should not be doing worse than two fifth graders at Pictionary. Right after he was worse than them at Just Dance — ‘Uncle Vinny, you’re supposed to be an athlete’ was said, and his feelings are still a little hurt. Also worse at baking cookies, apparently, though all three efforts tasted pretty good to him.

“Can’t you do anything other than hockey?” Vanessa said, so offhand he knew it wasn’t meant to sting, but, of course, it stung anyway.

Thomas doesn’t know how to explain being so focused on one thing impoverishes everything else, and he definitely doesn’t know how to do it in an age appropriate way. It’s good, he thinks, that they don’t understand — at their age he’d already started cutting away parts of himself that didn’t, couldn’t fit. He couldn’t join any of the after school clubs, or play any other sport above house league level. No sleepovers, except with teammates, because he had practice first thing on weekend mornings. At a certain point it was just hockey. It had to be.

Vanessa and Olivia can be anything they want to be. Maybe not literally — there was a point he remembers Olivia wanted to be a mermaid, and he doesn’t know how achievable that goal is, though he does know if he ever brings it up Olivia will furiously deny that ever happened and then refuse to speak to him for the rest of the day.

But they have Fourns and Chloe as parents, two of the most supportive people Thomas has ever met, and Fourns had a long, successful NHL career, so money isn’t a barrier either. They can try everything, do what they’re good at, what they enjoy, what they love. Which is dancing to Rihanna, baking cookies, and hurting a poor goalie’s feelings.

That night, Thomas brings his batch of cookies home with him, because the girls didn’t want them, and eats three standing right at the kitchen island. They’re perfectly good cookies. He doesn’t know what they’re talking about.

Anton comes downstairs when Thomas is on cookie three, hair damp from the shower.

“Good day?” he asks, then says, “Cookies,” before Thomas can actually answer him, shoving one into his mouth.

“Good cookie,” Anton says, through a mouthful of crumbs, squeezing Thomas’ shoulder on his way to the fridge. He doesn’t even notice Thomas beaming at him, too busy investigating, probably because last time Thomas went to the Fourniers he brought back half a cake and two pizzas. The Fourniers don’t do leftovers.

Thomas doesn’t know if Anton would have even played hockey if he wasn’t Vladimir Petrov’s son. It’s not exactly something that could ever be tested. Anton’s been surrounded by hockey his whole life: he literally sat in the Stanley Cup before he ever got a pair of skates. Hockey wasn’t just an option, it was the option.

Anton loves it, Thomas knows that — he wouldn’t have gotten this far if he didn’t genuinely love hockey. Wouldn’t put up with hearing ‘as the son of the legendary Vladimir Petrov…’ if he didn’t love it, or the teammates he calls immature idiots, like he didn’t get into an elbow-off with Thomas over who got the last pancake just last week.

He definitely wouldn’t put up with the media if he could avoid it, and he likes meeting fans more than he pretends he does, especially when they’re kids, but he likes his privacy more, and nobody gets much of that in Montreal, not if they’re playing for the Habs.

Even Thomas finds it a little overwhelming at times, and he not only gets recognised less than Anton does, he loves meeting fans. It makes it feel real to him, when sometimes the practice-game-flight-repeat lulls him into taking it all for granted. There’s only so much time left before it’s all over, and Thomas doesn’t want to waste it.

He’ll probably need hobbies in retirement. Scratch probably: Thomas gets bored when they go three days between games.

And retirement isn’t that far away, he knows — every contract he’s depending on the Habs still wanting him. The minute they don’t, his choice is going to be retiring or going somewhere else, leaving behind his city, his team. Tony, who’d probably take it pretty personally. And that’s if Thomas could even bring himself to do it. He doesn’t think he could. But without hockey, he doesn’t know where that leaves him. Here, he guesses. Making subpar cookies.

“How were the monsters?” Anton says.

“They said my cookies sucked,” Thomas says.

“What?” Anton says, immediately outraged on Thomas’ behalf. “They’re good cookies!”

“I thought so!” Thomas says.

Anton grabs a second cookie, taking a big bite out of it.

“Good cookie!” he says through another mouthful of crumbs. Thomas doesn’t plaster himself against him right then just because he’s afraid the cookie might choke him. He waits for him to swallow.

#fic snippet #thomas vincent #anton petrov #vanessa fournier #olivia fournier #SOTM

[creepsopasta]

playing games with some pastas

includes; eyeless jack, jeff the killer, hoodie, masky, ticci toby, homicidal liu, kagekao

eyeless jack:

- bit of a sore loser. not good with games that make him rage or online games

- voice chat with him is crazy!! he is literally foaming at the mouth yelling and cursing he is so bad at games :(

- “jack it’s gonna be okay” “FUCK you”

- he is not very kind about his losses

- most likely ends up throwing the control at the tv and breaking it (bad ending)

- whenever he ends up winning he’s ecstatic he does not stop talking about it and will brag about it to you exclusively. just go with it okay he needs it for his already shattered ego

- 0/10 experience would not do again.. okay maybe he would if you talked him into it and told him how much of a great player he is

- “i AM awesome aren’t i???” “yes you are <3”

- the more you play together the more he’ll learn to calm the fuck down and just enjoy himself

- still rages a lot tho

jeff the killer:

- plays board games like candyland and twister

- he’s a fucking shark he’s got all this shit down he knows how to win

- anyone who gets paired up with him for game night is 85% guaranteed to win (unfortunately there is someone out there who’s better than him)

- gets PISSED over not winning twister fucking furious he is literally the most flexible guy in this house he can do so much with his body

- monopoly is his favorite game. he esp loves to play with the younger pastas bc they believe anything he says and he thinks it’s hilarious

- “NOOOO PLEASE DON’T TAKE MY HOUSE” “your rent is $500,000, sally… it’s my house now”

- not a very avid video game player. he never really played a lot tbh

- good at everything EXCEPT connect four. do not make him play connect four he hates it he has terrible memories of it

- mastermind strategy planner. it’s a shame he doesn’t think this much at any other time

- boasts about it big time if you lose (you will probably lose) but might even try to let you win on purpose if he feels bad or sees you’re upset

hoodie:

- more of an arcade game guy. if you’re looking for like pinball games or pacman or space invaders or maze games or those weird money machines (that he kind of just. steals from) then he’s like great at all of them

- has spent hours honing his skills in his free time so you’ll be grinding for a while if you wanna beat him

- all the highest scores on the arcade machines are his. no one has topped them bc they’re fucking insane

- “wow you really have nothing better to do huh” [takes out gun] “that’s enough out of you jack can’t even fuckin move the joysticks around”

- tries to act like he isn’t competitive about it but he really super is

- thinks it’s just adorable that you think you can defeat him. no he will not be humbled by his lover of all people… that would make him a weak man

- goddamn merciless. no favors for anyone he revels in the rage he causes (see jack for more)

- if you’re a beginner he’ll take it easy on you until you learn the ropes and will offer tips but as time goes on he’s gonna be looking for a fight

- if he’s ever beaten, he will take it in grace and go straight from denial to acceptance

- does not rage that often. just hardcore practices until he’s like fucking unstoppable

masky:

- card player :(

- hates go fish tho he has such bad luck with it and everyone makes fun of him bc it’s like the universe does not want him to win

- good at boring ass stuff like solitaire or blackjack and if you ask him if he can play anything funner he’ll be like “oh so like rummy or spoons :]”

- no masky not like rummy or spoons… like uno or fucking play with some goddamn pokémon cards

- he’s so enthusiastic about it though so cmon just indulge him alright.. he literally has nobody else around him who’s into cards

- “okay so i win” “what… but we just started”

- he plays chess too!!! maybe you’ll find that more interesting?? he’s not very in touch with board games or anything this is the best he’s got

- deadass makes up his own rules if you don’t know anything about the game you’re playing

- “yeah so now you have to eat a rat. sorry babe”

- is never going to make fun of you if you suck at cards it’s not like he can beat jack in video games

ticci toby:

- dnd enjoyer he loves being the dm especially

- he, you, jeff, hoodie, lj, and occasionally masky have game nights and all you guys do is sit around the kitchen table trying not to curse each other out for doing stupid shit

- “c’mon guys this is supposed to be fun :(”

- doesn’t know that most of you have no idea how to play so he makes it super difficult

- has had to REPEATEDLY glue the die back together because jeff cannot stop snapping it in half

- “why does your dumbass partner always win this is fucking favoritism” “and then jeffery fell off a building and into the ocean 🥰”

- teaches you all you need to know about the game he will sit there for hours if he needs to just talking about the complexity of the rules

- he seems to have a lot of fun with it so everyone tries their best to not break the pieces or punch masky or yell at each other or punch masky

- better with snacks and drinks and lots of breaks so everyone can calm down and at least try to find some joy in the game

- 6/10 experience. would only try again without jeff at the table

homicidal liu:

- among us player… pisses everybody off bc he’s unfortunately very good at it and always imposter

- absolutely kills it (pun intended)

- no mercy he kills everyone including his loved ones this is a battle to the death and he is going to win goddamnit

- being imposter with him is some of the easiest shit bc he will carry the team entirely

- nothing to brag about tho since it’s a little space game and it’s really easy

- always knows who the imposter is if it’s not him he’s got some kind of foresight he will go out of his way to sabotage their chances at winning

- “would you love me more… if i killed someone for you 😇😇” “but you killed ME liu” “whoops”

- will stay with you for most of the game so he has an excuse for being innocent. once you are of no use to him he will stab you in the back

- relatively tame over voice chat. unless his brother happens to be there then it’s just jeff getting pissed off bc he can’t activate the reactor

- wakes you up at 2 am, phone in hand, smile on his face, asking “do you wanna play among us?”

- “liu, shut the fuck up and go back to sleep.” “ok.. :((”

kagekao:

- great at those games you play in your yard like frisbee or tag or hide n seek or maybe darts

- since the bitch can fly and run really fast it’s very unfair he pretty much cheats at everything and he thinks it’s funny

- frisbee with him is a literal field day. throws it so far you can’t find it ever again you’ll just have to buy a whole ass new one

- “what the FUCK kagekao” “🤷”

- laughs and makes fun of you for just not being as skilled as him maybe if you could fly you could beat him just get off the ground dumbass

- also likes to race but we all know how that’s gonna go (hint: he wins)

- unless he’s up against candy pop or something no one else really has a chance at beating him

- might help you a little bit if you’re struggling. like that one time he carried you up into the air and then dropped you because he thought it would be funny but then he couldn’t catch you in time so you ended up falling on lj and breaking one of your arms

- wrote you a little heartfelt letter about it later with a very fancy “sorry ❤️” in calligraphy and a few drawings of flowers (it did not help. your arm was still broken)

- really bad sport does NOT like to lose he will completely shut down

- little fuckin bastard

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanons #s/o headcanons #x reader #creepypasta s/o headcanons #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #masky #masky x reader #hoodie #hoodie x reader #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #homicidal liu #homicidal liu x reader #kagekao #kagekao x reader

[gameotheque]

Galarian men who are extremely handsome. The final part in my series of oggling pokémen.

#Jack plays Pokémon Sword #Milo #Raihan #Chairman Rose #Howses #Peony #Macro Cosmos Eric

[ilostmyshoe28]

Cas, setting down a card: Ace of spades

Dean, pulling out an uno card: +4

Jack, pulling out a pokémon card: Jolteon, I choose you!

Sam, trembling: What are we playing?!

#source: incorrect quotes generator #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #jack kline #incorrect spn quotes #incorrect quotes #just your average day at the bunker #team free will 2.0 #spn

[greg-montgomery]

Obsessed with the idea of you dating Aaron (and you don’t work for the BAU). As your relationship naturally progresses, you take on a pretty big part in caring for Jack while Aaron is away.

Since you know that Aaron doesn’t always get to spend as much with you and Jack as he would like, you’ve taken it upon yourself to send him updates throughout the day. Pictures of the two do you at the park and little messages like “I think jack has been hanging around Morgan too much. When I asked him what he wanted for dinner he told me we should just to the store and see what the vibes are.” Along with a photo of what you ultimately did end up making for dinner that night.

Maybe you’ll even send him some photos of yourself. Little reminders about how much you love and miss him and you’re proud of him.

Aaron loves it. It improves his mood. Makes him a little lighter throughout the day. Because of the nature of his job and how often he’s out in the field, he can’t always respond right away. But the little messages, those little pieces of home are such a balm and comfort to the horrors he’s often subjected to in the day. When he does has a moment - while the team is eating or on the jet, he’ll catch up on all the little bits he missed. He often worries about missing out on jack’s life. Not just the big events like holidays and birthdays but also just the little stuff. Seeing his sense of humor evolve, finding out what he likes and dislikes, growing his own personality. So he loves the little bits he gets from you. It’s his daily affirmation that there’s more to life than just the sickness he sees all day long. Outside of being “hotch” and “unit chief” he’s also just Aaron. He’s a father to a sweet little boy that loves superheroes and soccer. He’s a boyfriend to a wonderful partner that he loves. it’s his little reminder that makes the hard days and the most grueling cases worth it. He’ll tell himself- You’re doing this for them. So the people you love can live In a safer world. You couldn’t make the world safer for Haley, but you can still do it for them.

But maybe one day - someone makes a quip to you about how often you’re messaging him. “He’s got a lot on his plate you know. Don’t you think that’s a distraction from his job? I’m just saying it seems pretty clingy to me.”

And it works it way into your brain and makes you self conscious. Are you being too clingy? Are you the desperate girlfriend that can’t tell when she’s overstayed her welcome? When you look back on your messages, you do have to admit that it seems like a lot.

So you back off.

Aaron has been zoned in on the case, working against the clock to save lives that he didn’t realize the lack of buzzing throughout the day. When he gets back to the hotel and doesn’t see a single message from you, it concerns him. Obviously, he worries for your safety. It’s not like you to not talk to him at all. What if you’re hurt? He sends a quick message, not wanting to cause alarm even though his heart rate has increased exponentially.

“Everything alright, honey?”

Your reply is short. “Yeah. We’re all good here!”

His brows furrow at this. It seems odd to him but he tries to calm himself down. No pictures. No little updates on what you did today. He figures if there’s anything truly wrong, any danger, you surely would say something. Maybe you and Jack are just really tired - maybe you went to the park or went swimming or something.

The next day, you send a photo of Jack on a Pokémon Go walk in the neighborhood, face scrunched in concentration while he tries to catch a mewtwo. It helps calm his nerves. This was a good sign, things were probably going back to normal.

But then the third day - it’s radio silence again. He can’t help his thoughts turning the whole situation inwardly on himself. Were you getting bored with him? Maybe you were getting frustrated with the fact that he was away and you seemed to play nanny to his kid more than being an actual girlfriend.

He calls you but you insist on everything is fine. You’re just a little tired or you and Jack didn’t really do anything interesting that day so there wasn’t much to share. Aaron slightly rolls his eyes at this. There isn’t anything that you could do that he wouldn’t find fascinating. He tells you this but you seem to just brush it off.

He’s good at what he does and he can tell there’s more than what you’re telling him but you keep insisting everything is fine and his own insecurities that he’s built up over the last couple cause him to drop the subject. He doesn’t want to push and potentially make anything worse.

When the case is finally wrapped and the team makes their way back home, they can tell something has gotten under hotch’s skin. Their normally stoic boss is wiggling around in his seat like his ass is on fire. It was a bad case and maybe he’s just on edge from the brunt of it all.

One thing they aren’t used to seeing though, is him there alongside the rest of them, going home at a normal hour. They can’t help but tease him about the whole affair, “I guess there’s a certain special someone that you can’t wait to get home to, huh hotch?” He chuckles along with them but secretly his only hope is that there still is a special someone waiting for him when he gets there.

When he does walk through the door, the first thing he notices is the emptiness and the quiet. His heart sinks. On autopilot, he moves to your shared bedroom and he instead of you, he finds all of the bedsheets missing, the closet door open and your suitcase missing from the spot on the top shelf.

No. No. No. he panics. You packed up. You left. He stumbles out of the bedroom, calling out your name, calling out jack’s. His voice cracking. He hears a door open down the hall and there’s his son. “Dad! Come here” he tried to brace himself for what he might find. Jack looks physically fine, no immediate signs of distress. When he finally makes it, he sees you huddled up under a blanket fort, popcorn and chocolate and stuffed animals tucked underneath the mountain of blankets. And your suitcase. With the handle extended to hold up the weight of the sheets above it. He breathes a sigh of relief. You haven’t left. You built a blanket fort with jack.

you finally do talk about it - after Jack has crashed from the sugar high. When he asks you what’s wrong, he’s not prepared when you say, “I’m a burden to you, Aaron.”

“Where the hell did you get that idea from?” He can’t hide his shock. So you’re blurting it all out to him. He’s Confused. Kinda pissed about the whole event. How dare someone make you feel like you and his son are an annoyance to him in any way? His sweet little family that he loves and adores. You have an understanding, especially after Haley, he doesn’t want to miss out on his life anymore and if that means 2,000 texts a day then he will hand his entire salary over to his phone company to make it happen. He loves that you don’t try to make him feel bad for being away, you understand how much he loves the team and you love seeing him work. But you also know that his family means the would to him too and the fact that you’re willing to accommodate that isn’t something you should ever feel ashamed of. He’ll spend the whole night proving it to you.

THE ANGST IN THIS IS DELICIOUS 😫

aaron loves your little texts and updates during the day 🥺 he loves seeing your face and his son’s light up the screen of his phone! it’s what keeps him going when a case gets too much. it’s what he looks at when he feels disappointed in the world :(

so when you stopped doing it, a weight was suddenly placed on his chest. tbh he probably got flashbacks from all the fights he had with haley about his job :(( so he’s terrified history will repeat itself :(

meanwhile you’re also very :(( bc you’re worried that this random person was right and maybe you did annoy aaron with all your texts and updates. you know he loves you but you’re worried that he doesn’t have the time or energy during his very important job to care about your silly messages.

and aaron coming home and freaking out you left 🥺 i know the tears were in the corners of his eyes ready to spill :((( all these coincidences were just too cruel.

but when he finds you and jack simply having the time of yours lives he feels such a sweet relief! bc you’re still there and you love him <333

when you talk about it you agree that the messages not only aren’t gonna stop they’re gonna be even more frequent now 🤭🤭 and you also promise you’ll never let another person affect you with words like these. aaron loves you more than anything!! and you should not believe anyone but the man you adore <3 so when he says he loves you and your little messages, it’s true 🥹💞

#anon i loved this :(( you basically wrote a fic in my inbox youre so iconic for that #thank you for sharing it with me!!!! i love this type of angst 🥰 #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner #hotch 🪐 #ask

[medusamagic]

So you want to know more about Big Barda

As Tumblr's resident expert on all things Barda, and as Kelly Thompson's Birds of Prey run brings far more attention to the character, I figured it was high time someone stepped in and gave the tumblr world a primer on DC's biggest and boldest heroine.

The Basics:

Introduced in Mister Miracle #4 by Jack Kirby, Big Barda was once the leader of Apokolips' premier death squad, the Female Furies. Trained from birth for a life of violence by Granny Goodness, Barda spent the first 250 years of her life as a living weapon. This all changed when she met Scott Free, a gentle Parademon-in-training with a mysterious past and a knack for escapes. Eventually, she and Scott both escaped to Earth, where they fell in love with both the Earth and each other. She's a lover, she's a fighter, she's a Pokémon card expert, but most of all, SHE BIG.

Barda's signature defining attribute is her raw strength. Her raw muscle allows her to keep up with heavy hitters like Wonder Woman. This isn't to suggest that she's a simple-minded brute, however-- Barda has centuries of military experience under her belt as leader of the Female Furies. She's mastered multiple weapons, including spears, swords, and her signature Mega-Rod.

Below are some reading recommendations for anyone interested in Big Barda:

Essential Runs:

Mister Miracle Vol. 1 #4-18 by Jack Kirby (1971-1974)

This was the run that introduced the world to Big Barda, as well as the Female Furies. If you want to know the basics of Barda, there's no better place to start. This run is collected in a trade, as well as a part in The Fourth World Omnibus Vol. 1.

(NOTE: Even though Barda doesn't appear until issue #4, I suggest you start with Issue #1. It'll help you get acquainted with the rest of the mythos.)

Justice League International #14-24 by Keith Giffen and J.M. DeMatteis (1988-1989)

Big Barda was on the JLI! She plays off the other characters as well as ever, and a lot of what's great about her in Jack Kirby's original run is still here! Definitely check this one out if you want to see her in another team setting. This has been collected in this omnibus.

(NOTE: Once again, I recommend you start from issue #1.)

Popular Runs:

Mister Miracle Vol. 4 #1-12 by Tom King and Mitch Gerads (2017-2018)

Yeah, I know.

Listen, Tom King is a writer with... idiosyncrasies to put it nicely. The characters in the periphery of his stories tend to act really out of character, and his dialogue can be clunky at times. That being said, The Scott/Barda dynamic in this book is excellent, and this book has some of the best art that the Fourth World has seen since the 80s. The series has been collected in a trade.

(NOTE: Did you know that the CIA has over 2003 files on Tom King? Look up "Tom King CIA 2003" for more info!)

Mister Miracle: The Great Escape by Varian Johnson and Daniel Isles (2022)

If you're at all interested in the idea of a Young Adult reimagining of Mister Miracle and Big Barda's origin story with an all-black cast, this book was made for you. It's a bit heavy on the YA tropes, but the Scott/Barda dynamic is really solid. It was released as a standalone graphic novel.

Birds of Prey Vol. 5 #1-??? by Kelly Thompson and Leonardo Romero (2023-)

Admit it, this is the reason you're here. The Cassandra Cain & Big Barda is so instantly iconic, I'm surprised no writer has paired them up sooner. It also helps that this book has the single best Barda look since Jack Kirby's original run. Plus, she gets to throw down with Wonder Woman! What's not to love? This run is still ongoing, but the first 6 issues should be getting a trade pretty soon.

(NOTE: I started writing this before BOP #8 dropped, I had no idea about that thing that happens in the newest issue.)

Stories to Avoid:

Action Comics #592-593 by John Byrne (1987)

This is not a comic book-- it's an infohazard designed to cause pain and suffering to anyone who knows of its existence. Its premise is vile and disrespectful on the surface, and it becomes more insidious when you learn the context of its creation. This pair of issues is profoundly evil, rivaling even Avengers #200 in terms of loathsomeness.

For those who dare to investigate this, Content Warnings for rape, mind control, and human trafficking.

Anyway, let's end on something a bit lighter, shall we?

Remember that Mister Miracle YA graphic novel I mentioned earlier? Barda is getting a graphic novel of her own this summer! It's not out at the time of writing, but the preview pages look promising!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed that introduction to one of my favorite superheroes ever. Please get back to me on this, I have no one else to talk to about Fourth World stuff.

#big barda #barda free #dc comics #mister miracle #scott free #fourth world #new gods #justice league international #jli #birds of prey #jack kirby #keith giffen #j. m. dematteis #varian johnson #daniel isles #kelly thompson #leonardo romero #small bat #black bat #cassandra cain #wonder woman #diana prince #diana of themyscira

[flurry-bace]

ROTTMNT music headcanons (because I said so)

Donnie:

favourite genre is electric (canon)

also likes techno, hyperpop, and lo-fi

listens to Lemon Demon, Jack Stauber, The Living Tombstone, Bo Burnham, and Will Wood

won't let Raph pick music in the Turtle Tank

vibes with Leo to meme songs in the middle of the night (insomniac twins)

shares a playlist with Mikey that contains songs they both enjoy

plays Friday Night Funkin' music while working in the lab

can sing in-key for the most part

despises it when people talk to him while he's listening to music

Raph:

favourite genre is soul (canon)

also likes R&B, jazz, and funk

listens to The Beatles, Earth Wind and Fire, Rex Orange County, Girl in Red, and ABBA

genuinely doesn't understand Donnie's music, but can get by it

jams out to songs with Leo on shared missions

lets Mikey choose up-beat songs for workouts (the "hypeman," if you will)

blasts Dancing Queen frequently

can't sing in-key, doesn't care (and neither do the others)

doesn't memorize the words to songs, except the course

will play elevator music when absolutely bored

Leo:

favourite genre is glamrock (canon)

also likes White Girl™ music, 80's rock, and orchestra

listens to Mitski, Tom Cardy, Radiohead, Pink Floyd, and Arctic Monkeys

vibes with Donnie to meme songs in the middle of the night (insomniac twins)

tolerates Raph's music choices

uses his songs to annoy Mikey

sings loudly in the shower (he cries too)

could sing in-key if he tried, which he doesn't

music is basically constantly playing in his head (likely the Mii theme, or Maxwell Cat)

has a record player

Mikey:

favourite genre is rap (canon)

also likes pop, hiphop, and jpop

listens to AJR, Laufey, Tyler The Creator, Kikuo, and Katy Perry

shares a playlist with Donnie that contains songs they both enjoy

lets Raph pick songs while he's cooking/baking

gets driven out of Leo's room by his orchestra music

can't help but move to the songs (if he can't boogie, it's not worth listening to)

plays high-tempo music to get work done (it works half the time)

has amazing vocal range and perfect pitch

gets so many voice cracks (like so many)

is randomly inspired to draw by songs and artists

All:

know every single word to Breakin' Dishes by Rihanna, the Ghostbusters theme, and the Pokémon intro

take turns picking songs on road trips

can't stand Splinter's singing

#pluto is my planet #oof brainrot #NO I'M NOT PROJECTING #WHY DO YOU THINK THAT #i diagnose donnie with chronic transboy gender #raph is a closeted lesbian don't tell her brothers #don't even ask me about leo. it's just. him. #yes mikey listens to ajr unironically (the HORROR) #alr TAG TIME (YAAAAAAAY.) #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #hamato donatello #donatello hamato #hamato donnie #donnie hamato #rottmnt donatello #donatello rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #donnie rottmnt #hamato raphael #raphael hamato #hamato raph #raph hamato #rottmnt raphael #raphael rottmnt #rottmnt raph #raph rottmnt #hamato leonardo #leonardo hamato #hamato leo