#Jim immediately regrets encouraging him

[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock Pt 18

Part One Link to ao3 Part 17. Part Nineteen

Thank you to @stevethehairington for being supportive af and the worlds best beta and @thefreakandthehair for encouraging everything I do y'all rock!!!

Step Eighteen: Get Some Supplies

Eddie had spent quite a lot of time watching Steve in the last few weeks. Observing the way Steve spoke, the way his smile curled slowly on his lips when he thought no one was watching, the way he noticed almost everything, but was somehow still so oblivious. Eddie saw it all. 

But by far the most interesting thing about Steve was the way he could switch at the drop of a hat. 

It was the most interesting, but also the most frightening. It was like the headlights on the van all over again- one second Steve had been joking around with him, saying things that made Eddie’s heart race and his chest sink heavy with guilt; and the next his entire face went blank, a hard protective look in his eyes and a painful tension setting his spine perfectly straight. 

All because of the sound of a car. 

Eddie had no way of knowing what happened to Steve to make him like this, but curiosity was eating at him again, completely pushing aside the fact that he had almost spilled the entire bet to Steve in a fit of regretful shame. 

Well, not completely pushing it aside. Eddie’s heart was still racing like a jackrabbit, but that was besides the point. 

“What’s wrong?” Eddie murmured. 

“Nothing,” Steve replied immediately, his voice so dead it killed something in Eddie too. Steve carefully pulled away from Eddie, leaving cold handprints where his warm palms had just been against Eddie’s skin. “Stay here.” 

Not a chance. Eddie knew whose car that was, and he knew that if Hargrove was here, then nothing good was about to come of it. He waited maybe two seconds before following Steve out of the kitchen, tracing his steps to the front door that was slightly ajar, slipping out the door and onto the porch-

And walking directly into Jim Hopper’s back. 

Hopper startled like he had been shot, and Eddie reared back on instinct, nearly hitting the door in his effort to put space between himself and the police chief. When Hopper saw who bumped into him, he practically growled, his eyebrows furrowing into one long fuzzy stripe as he gave Eddie a completely unwarranted death glare. 

Rude. And uncalled for. 

It wasn’t like they were friends, but Eddie and the chief usually had a pretty good rapport. Kind of like Tom and Jerry, if Tom was the chief of police in a podunk Indiana town, and Jerry was a trailer kid who dealt drugs on the side for grocery money. Usually Hopper regarded him with put upon fondness, not straight hostility, and the shift was… disconcerting to say the least. 

Luckily for Eddie, Hopper seemed to have a bigger target for his rage tonight. A target with a blue camaro and even worse anger issues. 

Steve had only been outside for maybe thirty seconds, but that thirty seconds was long enough for him to get in trouble. Hargrove had gotten out of his stupid car, leaving the engine idling as he swaggered up to Steve, a condescending smirk in his face as his eyes flashed dangerously. Max had also scrambled out of the car, and was on her way around the hood and over to Steve’s side. 

This wasn’t going to be good. 

But, before anything could go wrong, Eddie was reminded they weren’t alone. 

“Is there a problem here, Hargrove?!” Hopper barked just as Billy reached towards Steve, putting every ounce of authority he had into his growling tone, making even Eddie shudder. Eddie had only gotten that tone out of Hopper once or twice during his many run-ins with the law, but each time it scared the bejeezus out of him. 

“No sir,” Hargrove spat out, instantly taking a step away from Steve. It seemed that even his impervious armor of assholery could be penetrated by Hopper’s power. 

Hop started down the steps of the porch, and Eddie burst into action, scurrying after him and attempting to look at least a little bit intimidating as he came to Steve’s aid. 

Mission probably not accomplished, but Eddie hoped Steve at least appreciated the gesture. Hargrove was fucking scary, and if he could beat Steve’s face in, Eddie was pretty sure that Billy might actually kill him if Eddie decided to take a swing. 

“Max, go inside,” Steve said softly as they came over, a gentle hand pushing against her arm and urging her towards the safety of the house. She pushed back, giving Steve a silent glower. Little Red was stubborn, almost as stubborn as Steve, and it was obvious she didn’t want to go anywhere without knowing nothing bad would happen to her babysitter. 

It was admirable, but it was also really, really, stupid. If anything happened, Steve would one hundred percent focus on protecting her first, which might get him hurt. Eddie wasn’t great in a fight, but he knew how to find people’s weak spots, and anyone with eyes knew that Steve’s weak spots were the people he loved. 

“Please,” Steve whispered, taking his eyes off of Billy to give her a silent look. 

Another switch. The guard dog was gone, a sweet chocolate lab in its place. Soft and careful not to hurt as he nudged his pup away from the mountain lion that wanted to devour her whole. 

Max sighed shortly, stopping to press a quick hug to Steve’s side and an even quicker flick of her middle finger towards Billy before she ran over to the porch. She sat herself down on the bottom step, her fiery red hair standing out in the dark as she leaned forward with her hands on her knees, watching them all like a hawk waiting to take flight. 

It was a compromise, and enough to keep her out of the fight that still seemed to be coming. 

“I’ll be back to get her at 8 sharp tomorrow, Harrington. She better be out here waiting,” Hargrove stated, bristling with barely concealed fury as Hopper and Eddie both flanked Steve. 

“I’ll drop Max off sometime in the afternoon, Billy,” Steve replied coolly, leaning casually backward as he crossed his arms. He was a picture of calm, a complete deviation from the rest of them. “If she’s gonna be later than 3, I’ll give you a call. Mkay?”  

Steve finished his sentence with a bitchy little smile, and Eddie bit his tongue, hating the way that his pants were starting to feel tight. It should not have been so much of a turn on to see Steve act like an ass, but when he was using his powers for good, there was something incredibly alluring about watching the former King tear someone down without so much as a swing of his fist. 

Hargrove’s nostrils were flared, and he looked like he swallowed an entire bag of lemons. He opened his mouth, probably to say something stupid, but Hopper wasn’t having any of it. 

“Anything else?” The man asked rhetorically. Before Billy could even shake his head, Hopper continued, putting his hands on his hips, “Good. Then scram before I bring you in on trespassing charges.” 

Hargrove deflated like a balloon, and Eddie barely resisted the urge to scoff. Of course Billy was the same as any other bully. It always went that way- they were all cocky and confident when they were with someone they thought they could beat, but if someone with actual power over them showed up, they instantly showed their belly. 

Eddie had no doubt that if Steve was out here alone, words would fly at the very least, and Steve might’ve even ended up with some new bruises. But the prospect of spending Christmas Eve in a cell seemed to be enough to get Billy Hargrove to fuck right off and leave them alone. 

Good riddance. 

“I could’ve handled that,” Steve complained the second Billy’s car disappeared around the corner. The annoyed face he was making at Hopper was ridiculously cute, and honestly, unfair. Eddie probably could have handled just the scrunched up nose, or the adorable little pout, but together they were a deadly combination that left him wanting to clutch his chest and beg for mercy. 

God, he was down bad for this boy. 

“Mhm,” Hopper hummed, raising a brow. 

“I could have!” Steve insisted. He turned to Eddie expectantly, waiting to hear his DM back him up. 

“You definitely could have,” Eddie reassured, despite not being entirely sure that Steve actually would have gotten out of that on his own, “but as much fun as bringing you to the hospital tonight sounds…”

The unsaid words spoke louder than Eddie had intended, and he even managed to get Hopper to bark out a short unexpected laugh. Eddie broke into a grin and shot Hop a smirk, the smile fading as Hopper seemed to realize exactly who had made him laugh and quickly went back to his angry scowling. 

What was his problem? 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Babydoll,” Steve said with a roll of his eyes, dragging Eddie’s attention back over to him. Behind them Hopper seemed to choke on air, but Steve didn’t seem to notice, too focused on his next mission. 

“I thought you couldn’t come tonight?” Steve asked Max as he walked towards where she was sitting. 

“Mom and Neil decided to go to a resort for the holiday, so it was just me and Billy alone for Christmas.” Max sighed as she stood, casually stretching her arms high above her head. “I’d rather step in front of a bus then deal with that so I gave him five bucks to drive me here.” 

Her movements and her tone were nonchalant, uncaring and almost lazy, but Eddie wasn’t fooled. Max was chewing on the inside of her lip, and she was avoiding eye contact like the plague. Most people might’ve missed it, but Eddie was good at looking. 

And Steve was too. 

“Sorry about your mom,” Steve murmured as he pulled her in for a hug. Max let him hold her for all of four seconds before pulling away roughly, tossing one braid over her shoulder and sticking her nose in the air. 

“I don’t care,” Max declared, despite all of them knowing how very much she cared. 

“Well El is going to be thrilled. She’s been stuck with just the boys all night,” Steve offered, giving Max an out from the big feelings talk. 

“I’m sure she was fine,” Max muttered, kicking at the ground, “not like anyone was missing me.” 

Eddie had spent the better part of his life being unwanted. From his parents, to his teachers, to basically the whole world. Not only was Eddie the local freak, he was also a barely closeted gay man in a small Indiana town. He had gotten good at being okay with being left behind or abandoned.  

But seeing that part of himself in the little girl in front of him hurt in a way he didn’t even think to expect.

Luckily, Steve seemed to have this handled. 

“Lucas was missing you,” Steve said teasingly, crushing her against his side as he dragged them both up the stairs. “I was too. Now that you’re here I can finally start karaoke. I’m thinking of starting with "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas.”

“Fuck off Steve, that song sucks and you know it,” Max complained, trying to wiggle out of his grip. Steve held her tighter, turning back to give Eddie a ‘watch this’ look before taking a comically long breath in.

“I WANT A HIPPOPOTAMUS FOR CHRISTMAS,” Steve crowed at the top of his lungs, startling the silent frigid air of the night with the force of his voice, “ONLY A HIPPOPOTAMUS WILL DO!”

“Oh my god, you suck!” Max shouted, finally escaping his grasp and clapping her hands over her ears. Her tone was angry, but Eddie could see the huge beaming grin that was overtaking her face. Once again the unstoppable force of Steve Harrington had managed to smooth things over. 

“I can see me now on Christmas morning creeping down the stair!” Steve continued without a care, giggling like a kid as he did. “Oh, what joy and what surprise! When I open up my eyes! To see a hippo hero standing there!”

Now Max was laughing too, holding her stomach as she tripped towards the front door to try and run from Steve’s singing. He held up his hands in mock trumpet form, vocalizing the instrumental parts of the song as he followed her in, leaving the front door wide open. 

And leaving Hopper and Eddie all alone outside. 

The silence materialized out of nowhere, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. As much as Eddie wanted to just run into the house after Steve and never even look at Hopper again, he held back. Yes, this was awkward, but Eddie could deal with awkward. He was good at awkward. He regularly stood on lunch tables for fun. He could do this. He would have them back to their normal bantering rivalry before midnight.

“Hiya chief! So how’s-”

“Are you selling Steve drugs?” Hopper demanded, cutting him mid-sentence and rounding on Eddie with fury in his eyes. 

Eddie, unable to help himself, did the absolute worst thing he could have in response. 

He laughed. 

He couldn't help it. The question was just that ridiculous. He had sold to Steve in the past, even jacked up his price with the ‘rich douchebag’ tax, but it was only ever weed. A joint here and there barely counted as drugs in Eddie’s book. Steve wasn’t even one of his regulars. And since joining Hellfire, Steve hadn’t even mentioned Eddie’s side hustle. 

“Chief, even if I was, would you really expect me to tell you?” Eddie snickered, still in shock that he was being asked this by Jim Hopper of all people. Was he worried that Steve was going to give Jane drugs? It couldn’t be that, there was no way anyone would ever think Steve would do that. 

So Hopper was just… weirdly overprotective over Steve. He almost sounded like a dad. 

“Cut the crap, Munson,” Hopper growled, taking a menacing step forward. “I’m serious. I don’t know what game you’re playing here-”

“Dungeons and Dragons,” Eddie supplied, still chuckling at how insane this conversation was. 

“-but!” Hopper continued, putting emphasis on the word and on ignoring Eddie, “nothing better happen to him, or so help me god-”

“Hop!”

Hopper was cut short by the sound of Joyce Byers. She and Steve were standing in the open doorway, twin disappointed looks on both of their faces as they took in the scene in front of them. Steve hung his head low, softly muttering to himself as he plodded down the steps and grabbed Eddie’s wrist, tugging him back towards the house. 

“Handle this?” Steve begged as they passed her. 

Joyce, who was in the process of lighting a cigarette, gave him one short nod, eyes already locked on her target. Eddie didn’t really know Mrs. Byers all that well, but he had dealt with enough irate mothers to know when to stay out of a woman’s way. 

“You promised you wouldn’t act so crazy-” Eddie heard her hiss to Hopper from behind their backs. 

“I am concerned! Am I not allowed to be concerned?!” Hopper exploded, and Steve slammed the door before they could hear anymore, pressing his back against it and groaning as he hid his face in his hands. 

“Why does everyone think I’m doing drugs?” Steve muttered. It was definitely a rhetorical question, but Eddie couldn’t help being a bit of a jackass. 

“I mean it’s not like I’ve never sold to you before, Sweetheart,” He pointed out, sticking both hands deep in his pockets and letting the smirk on his face grow three times as big as Steve groaned even louder. Eddie wasn’t exactly happy to be threatened by the chief of police, but it was nice to know that there was someone who was looking out for Steve. 

Hop was no Wayne, but every person needed a grumpy old man to watch over them in Eddie’s humble opinion, and if Hop was Steve’s, then Eddie could handle a few words thrown his way. 

Steve slowly slid down the door as he grumbled and mumbled, ending up cross legged on the floor, staring up at Eddie with the most pitiful pout known to man. 

If it was anyone else, Eddie would have kept the joke going, teased them to oblivion until they were both laughing until their stomachs hurt. But Eddie was a weak, weak man, and Steve’s eyes had somehow grown inhumanely wide and sad, and there was only so much he could take. 

“Come on, let’s go check on our completely clean, absolutely drug-free cookies,” Eddie offered, sticking a hand out to Steve to help him up, “just to prove to Hopper that I’m not your hookup.” 

Steve heaved the world’s biggest sigh in response, but took Eddie’s hand anyway. As he stood, rather than letting go, he intertwined their fingers, pulling Eddie into the kitchen and squeezing their palms together once before he went for his oven mitts. 

“By the way, I didn’t get to thank you,” Steve said randomly as he slowly lifted the tray filled with cookies out of the oven. 

“Thank me for what?” Eddie asked, reaching a hand towards the fresh treats, his mouth watering at the delicious aroma filling the air. 

“Hey! Too hot, you’ll burn yourself,” Steve said, jostling the tray to one side as he smacked Eddie’s fingers away before they could get singed. He placed the tray down far from Eddie and began to transfer the cookies onto a cooling rack. 

“I meant thank you for having my back out there… you didn’t have to do that,” Steve explained, his voice getting uncharacteristically shy as he continued to stare down at the cookies and avoid looking at Eddie in any way. His shoulders were curled inwards, and his bottom lip was caught firmly between his teeth. 

Eddie could have lightened things back up, made a joke about Steve’s innate ability to get into trouble, or pulled some bullshit insult about Billy’s intelligence to make them both smile and shake their heads, but he didn’t. There was something about the hesitancy sitting in Steve’s body, the way he was almost holding his breath, waiting to see why Eddie had gone after him when Steve had told him to stay behind. 

Like he couldn’t understand why someone would want to protect him instead of the other way around. 

“I didn’t want you getting hurt by him again,” Eddie stated, feeling his cheeks get stupidly warm as he did. It wasn’t like some big declaration of feelings or love, but the way the words laid his soul bare felt just a shade too close for comfort. 

“I would’ve been fine,” Steve protested, wrapping two cookies in a paper towel and handing them over to Eddie to test taste, shooting him a wry little grin as he did. “Billy won’t touch me now anyway. Not after last time. Max made sure of that.” 

“There shouldn’t have been a first time, and there won’t be a second,” Eddie said firmly, ignoring whatever weird joke Steve was making about Billy’s thirteen year old little sister being able to stop her eighteen year old brother. “Hargrove might be able to kill me with a single punch, but I’ll die fighting for your honor, Stevie.” 

“Well, I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t need anyone else dying on my watch,” Steve said softly, his smile disappearing as his eyes faded somewhere distant and sad. 

In an instant they were back in no man’s land, unmoored and untethered to the reality around them. Steve wasn’t at a party with him anymore, just lost in some far away place that Eddie couldn’t reach. Somewhere painful, and empty looking, and all Eddie wanted to do was pull him back and protect him from whatever was trying to steal his happiness. He wanted Steve to let him in, unhook the heavy cape that was set on his shoulders and unburden himself from whatever guilt was holding him hostage. 

Whatever it was, Eddie would help. He could make this easier, at least a little bit. All Steve had to do was tell him. All Eddie had to do was ask what was wrong. 

The time for being cautious was past them, and the time for being afraid Steve might run was over too. They had to be close enough for Eddie to at least know something about whatever was torturing Steve so badly. 

And Eddie had to care enough about Steve to put him over his stupid little crush. 

So despite the fact that his heart was threatening to leap out of his chest, and the dread was making his fingers ache, Eddie took a deep breath in and forced himself to speak. 

“Hey Sweetheart?” 

But unfortunately, the universe had other plans. 

“Steve!”

“What!” Steve yelled back to Mike, breaking away from Eddie and turning just in time to see all of the kids pile into the doorway like a pack of rabid animals. 

“Now that Max is here, can we do White Elephant?” Lucas pressed, impatiently drumming his fingers on the wall.

“Please?” Will added, quickly shooting a look over to his friend before turning back to Steve with barely hidden glee. 

“Fine,” Steve sighed, dragging out the word as the kids cheered and ran out of the room.  

The wild tornado of children had passed as quickly as they came, but whatever moment the two of them had been having had long since passed. Sharing Steve was gone, and Babysitter Steve had come back in full force. There was nothing wrong with him, nothing that would take precedence over his kids at least. 

It was admirable, but Eddie kind of hated it. Actually, more than hate. Eddie despised the fact that Steve was no longer with him, lost in taking care of the rest of the world once more. It was a good trait, something to respect, but it meant that Eddie had lost his chance to dig past Steve’s walls a bit more, and maybe finally get some answers. 

“Oh wait, Eddie what were you going to ask me?” Steve said, halting in his pursuit of the kids and turning to face Eddie. 

It was sweet that he cared, but it was pointless. This wasn’t the time anymore. 

But…

The supplies he had in the lunchbox in his van might just be the perfect way to get Steve to open up a bit. 

“I was going to ask if you maybe wanted to make some not clean kinda full of drugs cookies for us to enjoy later?” Eddie asked, mentally apologizing to Hopper. Steve quickly looked around to make sure no one else was listening, his eyes wide as a secretive smile already started to pull at his lips.  

“Ask me again once the kids are asleep,” Steve whispered in his ear, intertwining their fingers. Eddie steadfastly ignored the full body shudder rolling through his body, already calculating how much of a profit loss he was going to have to go through to get Steve to finally talk. 

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#Steve joins hellfire au #Steve harrington #Eddie munson #steddie #steddie au #steddie ficlet #st #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things au #post stancy breakup #post s2 #Steve and eddie #st au #stranger things 2 au #steve harrington #Writing(with a capital W) #Jeff stranger things #freak stranger things #Steve has ptsd #el hopper #eleven hopper #Steve and el #Jim hopper #Joyce byers #Billy Hargrove mention

[patchesjames]

Acts of Service

Posted on AO3 here

“Flo - remember I have to leave early today OK? It’s the kids’ first day back at school.”

“Fine,” Flo replied, not looking up from her desk and her breakfast. “You needed to tell me this at 10:30 in the morning?”

Hopper rolled his eyes before going back into his office. Perhaps he was a bit on edge about Billy’s first day back at school and El starting her second year at Hawkins High. He sat down and ran a hand over his tired face. Would every day be like this? Wondering if both kids would get through the school day without any incident? Billy was starting his senior year as a nineteen year old, after taking a year off after being almost ripped apart by a monster and then carefully stitched back together again. There had been multiple discussions and debates about if he should just get his GED and call it a day or go back and take the year of school he’d missed. Jim had no doubt he’d pass the GED with flying colors, but thought perhaps going to school every day would give him a sense of purpose, a place to go, get back out into society, give him time to think about college and his future, work on getting his mobility back. Or those were all of the reasons Joyce encouraged Billy to sign up for his senior year. Who was Jim kidding, he was scared shitless and already regretting not just signing Billy up for the goddamn GED course. At least that way he’d be home and Jim could keep an eye on him. And Eleven hadn’t blown anything up at school her freshman year but it was only a matter of time, he was sure of it - he stared at his phone just waiting for it to ring.

He was about to sort through the messages Florence had left on his desk when he heard the door to the station bang open and one of the deputies say, “Jesus Christ, that thing scared the shit out of me -”

Hopper shot out of his seat so quickly, it clattered to the floor behind him and he bolted to the door. He rounded the corner into the lobby of the station and almost collided with the golden retriever barreling towards his office.

“Odie, what-” Jim started, but before he could even finish the dog was barking once in his face and grabbing Jim’s shirt sleeve between his teeth, tugging him towards the door.

“Jim?” Florence asked.

“Billy’s dog, gotta go,” He yelled over his shoulder - letting Odysseus pull him out of the station’s front door. He had a millisecond to debate getting in his car and driving over to the high school, but Odie was already tugging him down the street, he let go of his sleeve, barked at him to keep up, and took off towards the high school.

“Goddamn cigarettes,” Jim bemoaned, before running after the dog. Odie was trained to not leave Billy, under any circumstances, unless he was given a command to do so. Hopper’s heart was already pounding wildly in his chest, imagining all of the scenarios he might be met with - Billy hurt, Billy missing, Billy dead.

Thankfully the school was only a few blocks away, Odie not even turning around to see if Jim was still following him, just headed back towards his charge. As soon as the school came into sight though, Hopper radioed back to the station, asking for someone to meet him there with a car for possible backup, they didn’t need to know the reason.

Odie headed immediately for the back of the school, running towards the football field. Jim could barely keep the dog’s huge, golden, bushy tail in sight as he darted through a crowd of people on the outskirts of the field. The stands were packed full, people clapping along as the marching band performed on the field, cymbals crashing together, and out of tune trumpets sounding behind them. Hopper saw a baton get thrown up in the air out of the corner of his eye.

He saw Odysseus charge towards the bleachers and disappear behind a row of metal. Jim all out sprinted behind him.

It took him running through a few rows behind the bleachers until he saw him. Billy was laying on the ground on his back, with his face in his hands, his knees pulled up, his sneakers and shirt caked in dirt, and he was alone. Odie’s harness lay abandoned in the dirt beside him, Hopper hadn’t even noticed the dog was missing it. Billy’s dog came up and settled next to him, taking up watch.

“Billy!” - Hopper yelled, skidding to a stop right before he ran into the kid and dropping to his knees beside him. “Billy - what’s going on? Are you okay, can you hear me?” Hopper let his hands hover over Billy’s torso without touching, he wanted to start cataloging him for injuries, but knew better than to touch the kid without his permission.

Billy peeled a hand away from his face to squint at Hopper with one blue eye, his chest was heaving with short breaths. He used the same eye to glare over at Odie, “Traitor.” The dog’s tongue lolled out of his mouth, a proud expression on his dumb, dog face.

“Bill, cmon’ what’s going on, talk to me, man.” Hopper was using his most patient voice, but he had his hand on his walkie about ready to radio for an ambulance.

Billy wiped his other hand over his face, smearing dirt, before dropping it. “It’s fine, I’m fine,” He panted out, shaking his head at Hopper’s expression which said, you can barely breathe, you are clearly not fine.

“F-fucking pep rally,” His teeth started chattering. He attempted to push himself into a seated position, his arm shaking a bit, and Hopper couldn’t wait anymore, he reached out and tugged Billy up, pulling him up by the hand, while his other hand went to his back and rested between his shoulder blades. He waited for Billy to continue.

“Th-there was a stupid, f-fucking c-c-cannon,” He bit out, angry at himself for stuttering. He was fidgeting with his fingers, Hopper knew he was probably aching for a cigarette but he’d tried to cut Billy down to 2-3 a day with his lungs still recovering. He only agreed when Hopper said he’d also cut back in solidarity. Billy saying he’d be able to sniff him out if he smoked at work behind his back, Hopper firing back that he’d trail him at school to see if he smoked during lunch time.

“A cannon? Jesus, that’s what this high school is wasting my tax dollars on.” Hopper went to take a cigarette out of his pocket before pushing his hand through his hand instead.

Billy shrugged, he tangled his left hand in Odie’s fur and started petting the dog. Hopper paused, he didn’t want to ask ‘are you okay’, physically Billy seemed okay, but admitting he’d had a panic attack at a loud noise and had to hide under the bleachers to get himself together was probably not something he was about to do. He was still panting though, obviously struggling to catch his breath, and quell his anxiety.

Hopper’s walkie crackled to life. “Chief? I’ve arrived at the high school. Over.” It was Callahan.

“Callahan, I need you to call the Harringtons and tell Steve Harrington to head over to Hawkins High School immediately.” Jim could already see Billy shaking his head out of the corner of his eye. “If he’s not there try the Family Video store, then the Henderson household and ask Claudia Henderson to find him. Over.”

“Chief - what?”

“I said over,” Jim bit out.

Billy looked over at Hopper, resigned. Hopper returned it with an eyebrow raise, daring his young charge to challenge him and what Billy actually needed right now. Billy looked down at his feet, before mumbling out, “He’s at work.”

“Callahan, call the video store. Over.”

Jim sat down in the dirt next to Billy to wait. Billy was shivering, running his hands up and down his arms, his breath still coming out quickly, eyes a bit too wide and terrified.

“Kid - why don’t you try putting your head beneath your knees, hmm?” Again, he didn’t want to touch Billy right now, he also didn’t want to make any decisions for him, but it physically hurt seeing Billy like this. Billy slowly lowered his head between his knees, took a deep breath, and kept his left hand buried in Odie’s fur.

Hopper frowned. “Billy - where’s your inhaler?” This was a problem he could solve, his kid couldn’t breathe well, get him his inhaler.

Billy paused, pretending to still be thinking, and distracting himself with petting the dog. Although, his worry must have ratcheted up a notch, because Odysseus laid next to him instead, pressing his body along the side of Billy’s for support, resting his head on his paws. Hopper hoped that Billy knew he wouldn’t get mad at him for the response, but he didn’t know if that was something Billy intrinsically felt just yet.

“It’s-” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s in Harrington’s car.”

Hopper bit his lip from letting out the ‘Dammit Billy, what did we talk about’ that was waiting on the tip of his tongue, he held in a sigh as well. “Okay, well good thing he’s on his way then, huh?”

Billy rolled his eyes towards the ground, but kept his mouth shut.

“I’m not mad, kid,” Hopper tried. “I just worry about you and want to have your medicine on you if you need it. That’s all.”

“Thought that’s what the seeing eye dog was for,” Billy grumbled under his breath, unsuccessfully.

Hopper laughed. “Hey, if it wasn’t for that seeing eye dog I wouldn’t be here right now hassling you!”

Billy let out a little snort. “Yeah, yeah.” But he didn’t sound mad about it, his embarrassment of having Hopper witness some of his lowest moments seemed to be waning. They sat in silence as they waited for Steve.

They heard Steve’s car before they saw it, screeching into the Hawkins High parking lot. Billy rolled his eyes again, but Hopper saw the small, fond smile on his face. Steve would go to the ends of the earth for Billy. And if he got a call at work from a cop that wasn’t Hopper saying he needed to come to Hawkins High without giving a reason, Hopper could only imagine his level of panic as he sped over to the school.

Hopper still didn’t know how they went from Billy breaking a plate over the other kid’s head to now soulmates or some shit, but he wasn’t mad about it. Someone wanted to help comfort and take care of Billy Hargrove besides him, Joyce, and El? Well that was more than okay by him.

“Billy!” They heard the strangled yell from somewhere beyond the bleachers, closer to the football field. Odie’s head snapped up, head tilting to the side; Billy’s dog loved Steve.

“Go get him, Odes,” Billy said, the dog staring up at his owner but not yet moving, always on the job unless given a command otherwise. “Break.”

At the one word the dog was off like a shot, Jim thought it was probably for the best, he didn’t know if Harrington would think to look for them buried under the bleachers. Billy picked up his dog’s harness to have something to do with his hands; he was breathing a bit more slowly now, getting some of his color back. Jim’s heart rate was also rathecting down from sheer terror to its almost constant, resting state of kid induced panic.

As soon as Steve came into view, Odie bounding along behind him, barking with glee, Hopper held his hand up to his mouth. “Harrington - inhaler!” He made a gesture with his other hand to simulate pressing down on something with two fingers. Steve’s eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, but his expression clearly and quickly went from confused to understanding. He scrambled back towards his car so fast he almost tripped, a golden retriever chasing behind him, dirt being kicked up behind them.

“Anyone give you shit today?” Hopper started. “About having the dog I mean?”

Hopper had called the school a month ago as soon as Billy had agreed to go back and he registered for his classes. He’d had a whole speech prepared for the principal but as soon as he identified himself as Hopper and said my kid is coming to school with his service dog every day, end of story, the principal had agreed without an issue. Jim did threaten to come up there personally if any of the teachers gave Billy shit for it either - Hopper wanted the principal to get it through his head that every teacher, janitor, parking attendant, and lunch lady would not breathe one word about it and leave Billy the hell alone. Once the principal agreed and said he’d even put it in writing once Hopper asked, he’d finally hung up. He wanted to tear the guy a new asshole about the lack of ramps at the school and other accessibility issues, but he poured himself a glass of whiskey instead. Besides, Billy was walking better every day and now that he had Odysseus, he’d been using his cane less and less, said he wouldn’t need it at school. Hopper hadn’t seen it in a week actually, he bet it was also ineffectually sitting somewhere in Steve Harrington’s fucking car.

Billy shook his head and then Steve was rushing over with a paper bag in hand, sliding to his knees beside them in the dirt, Odie following closely behind.

“OK,” Steve gasped out. “I got it, I’m here.”

He pulled the inhaler out of the bag - it was still in the pharmacy bag and in a cardboard box, unopened - Hopper glared over at Billy who was conveniently looking at his shoes.

Steve ripped the packaging off with both hands and presented the inhaler to Billy. “You remember how to-”

Billy glared at Steve who quickly shut his mouth and let Billy take the inhaler from him.

Billy shook it up and pressed it to his mouth. “You’re welcome,” Steve mumbled under his breath, but he didn’t look annoyed, he was actually smiling - now that he could see why he was called to the school, could see that Billy was safe and unharmed (at least physically).

As Billy inhaled dramatically, holding the medicine in his lungs, his right hand found Steve’s left in the dirt and he gripped it tightly. An apology.

Hopper looked away, grabbing Odie’s harness and calling the dog over to put it back on.

Billy hit the inhaler two more times, before handing it back to Steve, who immediately wrapped it back up in the box and bag. “Better?” Hopper asked as he stood up.

Billy nodded, letting Steve pull him up on his right side, hauling his arm over his shoulders to support some of his weight. Odie dutifully trotted over to Billy’s left side so Billy could grab the harness, leaning against it a little, it was tall enough that Billy could hold it without having to bend down.

Billy still looked fairly ashen and spooked, eyeing the crowd outside of the bleachers with something akin to dread.

“Alright,” Hopper clapped his hands. “Bill, I’m gonna’ sign you out for the day, I'll go let El know that I’ll pick her up later - Steve can you take them home or do you have to get back? I have to head back to work but Callahan can give me a ride.”

“But-” Billy opened his mouth.

“I got it, Chief!” Steve replied. “I already told them I wouldn’t be back today.”

Billy glared at him again. “Steve, you can’t just-”

“Thanks, Harrington,” Hopper replied, he had an ‘I owe you one’ on the tip of his tongue, but ate it. He didn’t want Billy to think that taking care of him was something they somehow kept score of. Instead, he pulled a twenty out of his pocket and handed it to Steve. “Order some food.”

Steve pocketed the bill with a smirk. “Will do.”

“Hop, you can’t be serious,” Billy huffed.

“Why not? Go home, relax, take the day off.”

“But, it’s the first day! You really don’t give a shit if I miss the first day?” He seemed incredulous, his face red, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Hopper sighed. “Exactly, it’s the first day, it’s not a big deal. Look, we’ll try again tomorrow, alright?”

Steve took Billy’s hand that he had thrown over his shoulder and tangled their fingers together for a second. He looked around quickly, mindful of where they were.

Billy stared at Hopper for a minute, before deflating with what Hopper hoped was relief. “OK, man, if you say so.”

“Good, I do say so.” They started walking towards the parking lot, Hopper spotting Callahan over by one of the goal posts, nodding at him as he walked up. Billy and Steve and Odie followed a bit more slowly behind, Jim tried not to telegraph that he was walking more slowly than usual, but he was sure Billy knew. He knew everything.

Hopper gave Callahan the ‘one minute’ signal with his finger and walked the boys over to Steve’s BMW. Steve opened the back door and Odie hopped right into the back seat, settling next to - of course - Billy’s cane which was resting on one of the seats. Steve helped Billy into the passenger seat, dropping him down as gently as he could without seeming like he was overtly helping him or pitying him. It was a delicate dance that Jim knew all too well.

“Alright guys, well, I’ll see you later,” Jim said as Steve went around to the driver’s side. He leaned down into the window on the passenger’s side, he didn’t want to hover but- “Hey,” He said softly to Billy who looked over at him, a defeated sort of expression on his face. “If you need anything you call me, OK?”

Billy sighed, but nodded. “Okay.”

He closed the passenger’s door gently and then hit the roof of the car twice. He could feel both boys rolling their eyes at him, but it was a hard habit to break.

He desperately wanted to call out of work, grab El, and go home with the two boys - keep an eye on Billy himself, make sure Eleven got through the first day of school, laugh with the kids over pizza and a movie. But, he didn’t want to hover, he walked over to Callahan once he saw the BMW drive away. He had a feeling Billy had everything he needed for the moment.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #jim hopper #dad!jim hopper #dad!hopper #i just wanted billy to have a service dog

[homeahoy]

What happens at Dave’s

High School AU

Warnings: Smut, Drinking, Swearing. 

Dave was having a party, to be more accurate Dave was getting a party.  He really shouldn’t have mentioned to David that his parents were away from Thursday until Monday night. It was his own fault really he should never have told David Stirling everyone knew never to tell David anything. David had heard those words and immediately started telling everyone Dave was having a house party.  Dave being Dave and not wanting to rain on everyone's parade had just gone along with it.  He was now beginning to regret his choice. He knew his friends, he knew the damage they could do.  It didn’t matter how much the responsible ones tried to reign in the louder ones it still ended one way, in utter chaos. By the time Saturday night rolled round he was beginning to regret it even more. 

The whole crew had descended on his house, even some of the french exchange students outside of the three they normally hung out with came. For some reason Reg and Johnny had brought the weird german kid and even more annoying friend, wait was he his friend? They seemed to speak to each other but it may have been because they were the only German students at the school. Jock had brought some girl called Mirren who went to the local all girls school and looked like she was about to die when she walked through the door and saw Reg pinning Johnny against the wall and kissing him. The rest had arrived individually or in groups depending if someone had decided to drive.  They had carried in boxes or bags full of alcohol, someone smart no doubt Bill had brought plastic cups. The kind that could be thrown away. 

It had taken about an hour before things had started to get rowdy.  Eve and David had disappeared. The door to Dave's bedroom was wedged shut so no-one could get in. It was a foregone conclusion that they were having sex in there. Eve pinned under David as the fucked in the cramped space of the bottom bunk of the set of bunk beds that Dave still had adorned with the colour’s of this favourite football team. Eve hadn’t been all that kind on the idea but the mix of teenage need and the smell of David’s aftershave had been too much, and he had looked really good. David himself needed no encouragement whatsoever; it was a wonder that he didn’t walk around with a permanent hardon.  They had disappeared into the room and in a flurry using a folder up magazine to wedge the door shut before pulling at each other’s clothes and then going at it. Appearing an hour or two later and joining back in with everyone. 

Dave himself was occupied in the kitchen going shot for shot with Pat, Jim, Paddy and Augustin, while Andre, Eoin and Georges cheered them on. What they were using as shot was a mixture of everything that had been brought into the house.  The contest was abruptly cut short by Pat, who was famous for not being able to hold his alcohol, began to gag and had to run to the toilet to be sick.  Appearing a few moments later and going at it again, to raucous cheers.  Finally he staggered away and passed out in the bath in the upstairs bathroom. The rest had kept going. Paddy and Eoin finally give up and start to make out against the fridge. The rest kept drinking, disappearing every now and again to either pee, smoke or chat with someone, somewhere else in the house. 

The downstairs bathroom is occupied but the strange trio of Johnny, Reg and Walter who are going at it like rabbits with each other.  Reg and Johnny making up for the time they didn’t get to play with Walter in the bathroom with Mike The noise was luckily drowned out by the music that was being blared at top volume from the living room.  Bruckner, who had no idea what was going on in the bathroom due to the music, was banging on the bathroom door to be let in because he needed a piss.  The three young men inside were trying not to laugh, which would have made what they were doing more awkward. It was while all three emerged to a confused looking Bruckner who had pushed past them to get in.  Walter vanished into the kitchen to get a drink, it would be found out later that he was a weepy drunk and was found hours later sitting in the garden crying. Reg and Johnny had taken up Dave’s bed and were going at it again. This time the door isn’t wedged shut and more than one person walks in.  Bill twice while trying to find Mike. Making the comment that he had seen more of Reg’s arse than his own. 

Jock, Mirran, Bill and Mike in the living room.  Bill and Mike are trying not to take the piss out of Jock’s attempts at flirting with Mirran who for some reason seems into it.  Much to Mike and Bill’s shock.  They try to make small talk but it is painful, eventually Jock and Mirran disappear off into the night, No-one really knows what they get up to and Jock will never tell them. Bill and Mike decide to get pissed with the french exchange students until Mike get’s the bright idea to climb the tree in the front garden.  He doesn’t tell anyone which leads to Bill hunting throughout the house from him. Giving up eventually to get pissed with Dave.  Mike however scales the tree, climbs back down, gets more drunk before trying to pet the neighbours cat and passing out in the garden hedge. 

The Morning comes with a few surprises.  Bill is passed out on the top bunk of Dave’s bunk beds, having slept through Johnny and Reg going at it again on the bottom bunk before passing out.  Dave himself is passed out on the kitchen floor covered in a living rug that Jim draped over him before going home.  Pat is still passed out in the bath with a cock drawn on his cheek, the handy work of JIm before he left.  Walter has had to call his Mum after waking up on the stairs, head resting on Bruckner’s shoulder. They both depart together although they don’t say a word the entire ride home. Eve has gone home leaving David behind as she didn’t want sick in her car. David is currently spooning a cushion on the living room floor. Andre and Augusting wake up spooning each other on the couch and vow to never breathe a word of it to anyone.  Paddy and Eoin have taken up the bed in the spare room which is for guests. Georges called a cab around four in the morning and went home. 

Awake they all stumble into the kitchen and begin to try and wake up. No-one knows where Mike is until he stumbles in looking like half a hedge is in his hair. Pat is still sleeping in the bath as everyone tries to clean the house to help Dave out.  Only Bill is the only one really helping while the others just scavenge what’s left of the drink for next time and pour out cups into the sink.  Bill has to turn on the shower to get Pat to wake up. The smell of sick coming off him making Bill throw up himself.  Returning to the kitchen after chugging mouthwash he suggests a Mcdonalds breakfast.  Mike agree’s and drags him off at once before everyone else can answer.  The rest pile into Augustin and Reg’s cars. They lose Bill’s car which they are pretty sure is being driven by Mike due to how recklessly it’s being driven and go to KFC instead. 

This ends in chaos with Reg and Johnny nearly getting them thrown out for going at it in the toilet’s again.  Paddy and Eoin calling a cab and leaving. Andre, Augustin, Pat and Dave leave David in KFC because he is being annoying and text Eve to go get him. He ends up having to make his own way home by bus. Reg and Johnny have left in Reg’s car to go back to Regs.  Bill and Mike, having no clue where the rest have gone, get their McDonalds and drive out to the lookout point over the town to eat it and promptly end up shagging in the back of the volvo after  a few flirty comments and the realisation that they like each other more than friends.  No-one finds out until someone comments about all the leaves on the backseat a few weeks later. 

Dave believes he had gotten away with having the party until his Mum finds the polaroid's Reg took of Johnny in her wedding dress.

#sas high school au #sas au #drabble #fanfiction

[missaudreyhorney]

Afterschool Special

Again, I am shocked and delighted that people are enjoying the beginning of this series as much as I’m enjoying writing it. I cannot thank you all enough for your kind words and encouragement. In this third installment, Hopper and Reader get to spend some “alone time” together. That’s all I’m going to say about it 😊

Content warnings: Rated M for more age gap, Daddy kink, physical intimidation, over the clothes touching, and a new addition of under the clothes kissing. Female Reader, modern AU, 2.5k words.

You call Jim Hopper on Monday afternoon in between classes. His voice is even deeper and sexier over the phone than you remember it sounding the night before. He seems happy to hear from you and you try to hide how giddy you are about it. Sensing that the attraction between you two is very mutual, you don’t hesitate to set up a meeting. He tells you that he has Wednesday off from work, and for a second, you seriously consider ditching all your classes to spend the entire day with him. Instead, you agree to meet up at his house at four o’clock, which gives you enough time to go home and change after school.

Normally on a date, you would prefer to wear a dress but the winter chill in the February air sadly prevents that. Hopefully you won’t feel out of place wearing a heavy sweater and a pair of jeans to wherever it is he wants to take you.

The address he gave seems to be out in the middle of nowhere and multiple times you wonder if the GPS navigation is telling you to go in the wrong direction. Eventually, you find the place and it’s not so much a house as it is a cabin in the woods. It almost looks abandoned except for his car parked out front.

Any misgivings you have about the place are dispelled when you see Hopper standing on the porch and smoking as he waits for you. All your friends complain about guys who smoke, and that they hate the smell, but not you. You think it’s sexy and you even enjoy the smell.

A smile spreads across his handsome face when he sees you and it gets wider when you step out of the car. “Come on in, sweetheart,” he greets you with a white cloud billowing out from his mouth.

Anticipation rushes through your veins. When you last saw each other, and when you spoke on the phone, there seemed to be a promise of more, a promise to finish what he started when he came up to your room. You know that something will happen today, you’re just not sure how or when.

Once you reach the top of the steps, he says “It’s open. I’ll be in in a minute” as the unfiltered cigarette dangles between his lips.

Opening the door slowly, you let yourself in then put your purse down and look around. The cabin is…rustic. None of the furniture matches. Some of it looks to be as old as you are. There’s a decent red sofa but it’s covered in a patchwork quilt. There’s a plaid chair against the wall and it too has a blanket draped across the top, one that’s knitted or perhaps crocheted. The only things to indicate that you haven’t arrived here in a time machine are the flat screen tv on the wall and a new Apple computer on an old wooden desk.

Hopper steps into the room a moment later. “Why don’t you take your coat off and stay awhile?” He touches your back as he walks past you to go into the kitchen.

“Oh, um, okay.” You suppose he wants to talk a little bit or perhaps finish something up before you leave. Hanging your coat up on the rack, you notice a small pair of tennis shoes on the floor. “Do you live here alone?”

“No, my daughter lives here with me.”

His daughter? Gosh, Hopper really is a DILF. You follow him into the kitchen and your brain starts to connect some dots. “Is she the reason why you left so suddenly on Sunday night?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he says as he takes an ice tray out of the freezer.

“It’s okay. I’m just glad it wasn’t your wife.”

“Oh no, I’ve been divorced for a long time now,” he assures you.

Your eyes roam over Hopper’s large frame while you watch him pop the cubes out of the tray and fill it back up again. He’s wearing jeans and a blue flannel shirt, with the top two buttons undone, and a navy henley underneath. His scent of cigarettes and soap makes it seem as if he must have smoked immediately after getting out of the shower.

For a brief moment, you entertain the idea of ripping his clothes off right here and now, forgoing any previous plans you might have for your date. That’s where you’re hoping this will all lead anyway so what’s wrong with cutting to the chase?

In an attempt to restrain yourself, you bring up the one subject that will take your mind out of the gutter. “How did you meet my parents?”

“They brought one of their cars to my shop. I’m a mechanic.”

The attempt proves feeble as your mouth instantly begins to water at the mental image of Jim Hopper bending over the engine of a car, sticking out his cute butt in his Wrangler jeans, his hands and his face getting all dirty and sweaty.

“Can I make you a drink?” he offers, getting a glass off the shelf. “You are old enough to drink, right?”

You playfully roll your eyes. “Yes, I’m old enough.”

“I don’t have to check your ID, do I?” He winks at you and it’s as charming as it is corny.

“You can if you want to,” you respond.

“No, I believe you.” He opens a bottle of Jack Daniels and lifts it above his glass.

“Wait, you’re making a drink now? When are we gonna go?”

He puts the bottle on the counter. “Go where?”

“Is this it?” you ask, slightly stunned.

“Is what it?” Deep ridges form on Hopper’s forehead as he raises his eyebrows in irritation.

“I thought we were going to go on a date,” you explain.

His features soften as he chuckles at you. “We’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.” He gleefully pours the whiskey into his glass.

“So we’re just going to stay here and…?”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a smug grin. “We are.”

Suddenly your idea of tearing his clothes off seems like it would be more welcomed than you had anticipated.

“What’ll it be?” he asks, getting himself a can of Coke out of the refrigerator.

“I’ll have a water.”

Hopper pulls out a bottle of water and hands it to you. “You know this was your idea, right? You didn’t mention anything on the phone about a date.”

“I know, I guess I...assumed we’d go out.” You take a much-needed sip.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he offers in a considerably softer tone than you’ve heard from him thus far.

“No,” you smile at him. “I want to stay.”

He smiles back at you then takes a drink.

“It just would have been nice if you took me out somewhere,” you remark before raising the bottle to your lips again.

“Why beat around the bush? We both already know what we want.” He takes another drink then sets his glass down. “Unless of course, you want us to be seen together,” he adds, moving directly in front of you, with mere centimeters between your bodies.

Your heart starts racing as Hopper glares down at you with a storm churning in his deep blue eyes.

”Maybe you want people to look at us and know that I’m twice your age.” He leans in closer, backing you into the corner of the wooden counter. “Maybe you want to hear them say ‘what’s that dirty old man doing with that beautiful young girl?’” He enunciates every word in a biting tone as if he’s scolding you.

Your bodies are so close together that you can actually feel the heat radiating off of him.

“If that’s what you want, I can take you anywhere. We can leave right now,” he offers in a slightly more casual voice. “I just don’t see any point in wasting time when it’s so obvious what you came here for.”

“What’s that?” you accidentally say in a whisper.

Hopper takes a step back from you. “Go in the bedroom and I’ll show you.”

With a deep inhalation, you slip away from him and run out of the kitchen then immediately run back. “Which one is your bedroom?” you almost shout.

“The one on the left,” he answers, trying not to laugh at your over the top enthusiasm.

You pull the curtain in the doorway so hard that it feels like it might rip away from the rod. Yanking your sweater above your head, you kick off your shoes at the same time.

Lying back on the bed, you can feel how wet he’s already made you. Your body is practically vibrating with excitement as you hear the heavy steps of his boots as he approaches. A shiver runs through you when he enters the room.

“Where were we?” Hopper asks, kneeling onto the foot of the bed.

“You were on top of me,” you recall.

“Uh-huh,” he nods, positioning himself between your open legs.

“And I think you were going to unhook my bra?”

He runs his hands under your t-shirt and up the sides of your body. “You’re not wearing a bra.”

“I thought we could skip that part.”

He pulls your shirt up over your chest. “Good thinking.”

Without missing a beat, his lips are on your breasts, kissing both of them with his warm, wet, open mouth. Your left nipple hardens as Hopper swirls his tongue around it, making you push your hips into him. His lips close around the bud and begin to suck.

“Oh, Daddy,” you moan, using the title with no regret this time.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he pauses long to speak then immediately begins sucking on your other nipple.

Just like on Sunday, his mouth is rough. Not solely the texture of his scruffy beard against your soft skin, but the ferocity with which he sucks on you and teases you with his teeth. Also just like Sunday, he moves his hand in between your thighs and pushes his palm against the center seam of your jeans.

You hiss when he bites down hard into your flesh, clearly not holding back this time. It’s an exquisite pain that you could easily become addicted to. Your fingernails claw at his shirt when he rolls your nipple between his teeth.

Hopper is working you into a frenzy with the way his hand presses into your jeans, rubbing your pussy through the denim. All the different sensations he’s causing in your body are starting to become too much and you need a release.

“Daddy, please,” you beg breathlessly.

Your nipple pops out from between his lips with a vulgar sound. “Please what?”

You’re unable to answer him as your mouth is too busy moaning while his hand brings back that familiar ache.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he instructs between licks.

“Your f-” you interrupt yourself with another moan. “Your fin-”

“You want my fingers inside you, is that it?” Hopper asks as you grind your crotch into his palm, desperate for all the friction you can get.

“Yes, Daddy!” you finally manage to force out two coherent words.

He unbuttons your jeans and you hear a noise coming from the living room. You both ignore it while he ever so slowly starts to pull down your zipper. Until you hear another noise. Not a noise actually. A voice. Two voices.

Hopper’s hands fall from the zipper, landing on your sides, while his head sinks down in defeat. Your body tenses with worry that whoever it is might come into the room as there’s no door to keep them out.

The two young voices are arguing about something but your brain is far too preoccupied to be able to comprehend the subject of the argument. The only thing you can manage to infer in your current state is that it must be his daughter and one of her friends from school.

Hopper gets up from the bed, leaving your chest fully exposed, and you tug your shirt back down. He has you throbbing with need, and exactly like the last time, your hopes for satisfaction have been quickly dashed by an intrusive family member.

When he goes into the living room to mediate the situation, you sit up and see something on his nightstand that you were in too much of a rush to notice before. Magnum XL condoms, not one but three, the edges of the gold foil still attached to each other.

“For Pete's sake, what’s going on out here?” Hopper demands above the sound of their bickering.

“Mike was staring at Stacey Albright,” his daughter explains.

“No, I wasn’t!” the boy interjects.

“Who’s Stacey Albright?” Hopper asks.

“A girl at our school who stuffs her bra,” she answers.

“She does not stuff her bra,” the boy disputes.

“How do you know that if you weren’t staring?” she raises her voice.

“I was not staring!” the boy yells back.

“Both of you calm down, alright? Jesus.”

Hopper opens the curtain, walks in, and closes it behind him. “Listen, I’m sorry but I gotta-” he begins to apologize in a dejected tone.

“No, I understand,” you reply, cutting him off as you stand up from the bed before pulling on your sweater and shoes. “I should go.”

When you turn to walk out of the room, he grabs onto your upper arms. He doesn’t mean to startle you, it happens solely by accident because he’s so strong. “Look at me,” he suggests, trying to get you to make eye contact.

You gaze up into his gorgeous blue eyes and he starts to smile.

“I still want to see you again,” he says warmly.

“Me too,” you agree, reciprocating his smile.

The kids resume their argument and Hopper rolls his eyes. “Please call me,” he adds before letting go of you.

“I will,” you confirm.

You open the curtain and both of the kids’ mouths fall silent as they watch you emerge from the bedroom. They look to be about fourteen or fifteen-years-old. The girl has brown eyes, long brown hair, and the most perfect skin you’ve ever seen on a teenager. She forces an awkward smile to be polite. The boy is tall and pale, with sharp cheekbones and curly black hair like a rockstar from the ’70s. He glances back and forth between you and Hopper with a confused expression on his face.

“This is my daughter, Elle,” Hopper introduces.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” you say back, your voice sounding squeaky with nerves.

“And her boyfriend, Mike,” Hopper continues.

“Ex-boyfriend,” Elle corrects.

“What? That’s not fair!” Mike exclaims.

They start bickering once more and you shoot Hopper a sympathetic look as you grab your coat and purse then slip out the front door. It feels like the universe is conspiring against the two of you, trying to keep you from having sex with each other, like a cosmic cockblock. As you drive away from the cabin, you silently pray that the next time will provide the relief you’re yet again so desperate for.

Tagging: @t-u-m-s @girlwiththenegantattoo @ottosuricato @im-not-great-at-making-up-names @misshawkins1993 @emilyyblackkk @hopperlover @kingphillipblake @kate110199 @david-harbour-arg @manawhaat @helena-mrs-murder​ @zombiesnips-blog​ @chiefharbour​ @flamehairedwritings​ @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s​ @strawberry-fields-f0rever​ @mrs-geuse​

Let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged. 

Image credit: HarbourSource on Instagram

#jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #Hopper x Reader #Hopper x You #WTW #female reader #I did it

[infernwetrust]

To a Lifetime [Duncan Shepherd x Jim Mason]

Summary: Duncan takes care of his boy for his birthday. :)

Warnings: SMUT HEAVY, whole lotta fluff, little bit of angst, swearing, mentions of drug use

WC: 6.7k 

A/N: This got out of hand really fucking quickly, LMAO. It was NOT suppose to be almost 7k words, but here it is anyways. Jocelyn, our cricket supreme, you asked me to make sure that Jimothy has a good birthday, so here is my promise to you. Also, if anyone has a req for anything, send it to me! Part of my little Duncan x Jim series that can be found on my master list, here. Several references from To Take Care Of Part 1 are mentioned in this.  Thank you for reading! -Juno

GIF by hailmary-yramliah

Duncan yawned before taking one more sip of his orange juice before placing the glass gently in the sink. Usually, Jim was up as well and hot on Duncan's heels as he follows him around the kitchen. But this morning that was not the case. It was his birthday after all, but Duncan was growing impatient waiting for Jim to get up. He was use to seeing his ocean eyed boy, still sleepy, walking around in a haze as he either cooked breakfast before Duncan had to go to work or as he struggled to get his day started.

Today, Duncan took the day off, dedicating the the entire day to Jim. He wanted to do more than terribly sing happy birthday to him, give him a card and whatever gift he had his eye on, and a birthday cake before he had to be busy for the entire day. Not that Jim didn't appreciate this, but Duncan knew how bad Jim missed him on the days he decided to stay longer at work or the days he decided to go in earlier. And he missed him too, regretting every earlier in and every late stay, but Jim wouldn't have to worry about that today.

Running his hand through his messy hair, the sight of Jim, now awkwardly wrapped up in their bedsheets, still asleep, made him smile. He looked so soft and at peace. And then Duncan thought, if he was going to wake his boy up, he might as well make it count. If Duncan wasn't on top of Jim, watching him crumble underneath him, he loved to be between Jim's legs, getting him off. He almost, always, returned the favor.

He walked quietly over to the bed, attempting to untangle Jim out of the sheets and get him onto his back. And when he finally did, Duncan almost lost his composure. A very bad case of morning wood, Jim had, as he continued to sleep peacefully or so Duncan thought?

"Mmmm, Duncan." Jim stirred in his sleep, instinctively grabbing Duncan's pillow and pulling it closer to him. Jim twitched, rotating his hips slightly before settling back down. Duncan bit down on his lip to stop himself from making any type of sound, slowly rubbing Jim's clothed length. Jim sighed heavily, still very much in his wet dream, squeezing the pillow tightly before burying his face into it.

Duncan took the opportunity to nestle himself between Jim's legs, slowly pulling him out of his fitting pair of white boxers. He set his hand, palm up to catch Jim in his hand before he could slap against his stomach. His mouth watered at the sight of Jim every time. Sliding his phone out of the pocket of his shorts, he snapped a picture of Jim in all his glory, before tossing it to the side.

Jim was oozing now and breathing harder and Duncan decided that he waited long enough. He took Jim all the way into his mouth, causing Jim to jump out of sleep almost immediately at the warmth of Duncan's mouth. He first reaction was to squeeze his legs together, but Duncan stopped him, holding him down by this thighs, rubbing small circles with his thumbs, Jim still in his mouth.

Jim looked down at Duncan with sleepy and dream fucked out eyes before smiling weakly, still holding onto Duncan's pillow. Duncan took this as a sign of encouragement, slowly moving his head up and down, tongue slowly swirling around him. Jim let out that same sigh again, throwing his head back into his pillow. Duncan continued this, slightly picking up the pace.

"Fuck.." Jim moaned breathlessly, throwing Duncan's pillow over his face, taking in his scent. Duncan hummed lowly around Jim, his own length rubbing against the bed. "S' good. S' warm." Duncan pushed Jim to the back of his throat, holding him there for a few seconds. Jim let out heavy exhales, slightly whimpering as his tip brushed the back of Duncan's throat. Pulling him out of his mouth, spit dribbling down his chin, he licked up the sides of Jim, tongue swirling patterns over Jim's tip that was now covered in pre-cum.

Tossing Duncan's pillow to the side, Jim propped himself up on his elbows, watching Duncan work him. Duncan took Jim back in his mouth, sucking at a steady and fast pace, hands kneading at Jim's thighs.

"Shit..." Jim breathed out, putting one of his hands in Duncan's hair. Duncan looked up at Jim, who was looking right back. "Keep that up and I'm gonna cum real pretty down your throat." Duncan paused, pulling Jim back out of his mouth.

"Is that a promise, birthday boy?" Duncan teased. Jim chuckled, moving a few strands of his hair out of his face before running his hands through Duncan's hair.

"Find out." Jim shot back, his dick twitching with every breath that Duncan took. Kissing Jim's tip, he resumed at his same pace, but quickly speeding up. The combination of wet sounds and Jim's loud and godly moans was enough for Duncan to grind himself harder against the bed. Still propped up on his elbows, Jim grabbed the sheets underneath him, his moans getting aggressively louder and his reached his edge. Duncan wasn't letting up any, only increasing his speed evenly.

"Fuck. Dunc. I'm gonna-," Jim began before all that was now coming out of his mouth was a mixture of "uh's" and "oh's", Duncan's name also leaving Jim's mouth a few times as he released inside Duncan's mouth. Duncan continued to suck on Jim, his cum dripping down the sides of him, but Duncan effortlessly slurping it back up before swallowing and removing Jim from his mouth with a loud pop.

"Happy birthday, ocean eyes." Duncan smiled at Jim who was still struggling to catch his breath. Jim laughed, laying back down before running his hands over his slightly sweaty face.

"I love you." Jim replied. "S' much."

"I love you too."

*** "So how long did it take you to come up with that idea this morning?" Jim questioned as he rinsed his shampoo out of his hair, Duncan standing in front of him as he soaped up his own hair. Their chests rested against each other's rising and fall almost in sync as they showered together.

"About 5 seconds." Duncan answered, massaging at his scalp, the two laughing at his answer. Jim looked up at Duncan, still standing underneath the water. Every single day Jim questioned how he was lucky enough to end up with fucking Duncan Shepherd. But what he didn't know is that Duncan was asking himself the same question. How he was so lucky enough to end up with James Mason was beyond him. Completely opposites, the two leveled each other out well and they both knew that. They needed each other.

Jim was just the sign Duncan needed before he gave up on trying to find love completely. Ashamed to admit it, when Jim met Duncan he was so so so close to slipping again. Duncan kept him sane, kept him grounded, reminded him that there were other options, always. If anyone had Jim, it was going to be Duncan, no matter how bad their arguments or fights.

"You okay?" Duncan questioned, noticing Jim had fallen silent, his gaze lingering over him.

"Yeah, I just-," Jim answered, snapping out of his thoughts. He couldn't find the words to say, high on his love for Duncan, so he just kissed him, a warm kiss. He kissed Duncan like he was going to be leaving for a few days, pressing him back against the cold shower wall, but Duncan didn't flinch a muscle. He grabbed both sides of Jim's waist, pulling him as close possible, deepening the kiss. When they pulled away, needing a breath, they rested their foreheads against each other.

"You do a good job." Jim began. "A good job of making me want to just say fuck my birthday and stay home with you all day."

"One. While that does sound nice, never ever fuck your birthday. You're a growing boy Jim." Duncan joked. "Two. I'm yours all day. Today is about you, Jim. I've got a few things planned, starting with lunch."

"Ooo, where's lunch?"

"You'll see."

***

"Mmm, c'mere." Jim said to Duncan as he sat in the passenger seat of Duncan's space silver Tesla that had finally been shipped from DC to California. "Breath check?"

"Always." Duncan replied, getting ready to lightly blow his breath in Jim's face like they usually do before going out.

"No." Jim stated simply. "Breath. Check." He cupped one side of Duncan's face in his hand, pulling him in for a kiss that was tongue heavy and left Duncan speechless.

"All good?" Jim questioned as he pulled away.

"All good.." Duncan answered, running his hand through his hair for the second time today. When Duncan had walked up to the host and said Shepherd party of 4, it left Jim confused until he saw who was sitting at the table.

"No you guys fucking didn't." Jim said as he stared at Medina and her boyfriend/his long time friend, Calvin.

"We did." Calvin answered.

"No, you didn't. You guys didn't drive 6 hours from the Bay to LA." Jim continued, the smile on his face only growing wider. He felt like he could cry. She was his twin after all. Which meant is was her birthday too and Jim couldn't remind the last time they actually sat down and together on their birthday. He turned around to face Duncan. "And you. No you fucking didn't either."

"I did." Duncan answered with a smile.

"No you didn't. You didn't NOT tell me that my sister and her boyfriend were gonna be here today."

"He did." Medina answered, getting up from her seat to come face to face with her brother. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. One that he wasted no time returning. "Happy Birthday, Jimmy."

"Happy Birthday." Jim said back, the two now swaying back and forth in their hug. When they let each other go, Medina made her way over to Duncan, Jim to Calvin.

"Happy Birthday, love." Duncan said to Medina as they went in for a hug.

"Thank you." she whispered in his ear. "For doing this."

"No, thank you, for helping me through the decision that I'll be making today. I'm not going to lie, I'm a little nervous. I know it's hours away, but-,"

"Don't be. He loves you, Duncan." Before the two could finish their subtle conversation, Jim and Calvin were sitting down, so they joined them.

Lunch was full of non-stop conversation, especially between the Mason twins. They had so much catching up to do. No amount of phone calls, video chats, text messages, and yearly visits to PV could ever make up for missed time between the two. The two had long sent each other their birthday presents, not expecting this, but Duncan Shepherd always has a few tricks up his sleeves.

"So what do you guys have planned today?" Calvin asked as he took the last bite of his food.

"I honestly don't know." Jim answered. "Duncan won't tell me anything."

"Calvin won't tell me anything either???" Medina chimed in, knowing good and well that she knew exactly what was happening later today and so did Calvin.

"Oh c'mon y'all." Duncan spoke as he took a sip of his drink. "Birthdays are full of surprises. And I know you like surprises, Jim.

"I do." Jim confessed. "They're heart warming, okay? To know that someone is always thinking about you." Jim quickly glanced over at Duncan before returning his attention back to Calvin.

"I don't." Medina darted her eyes back and forth between her brother and boyfriend. "But the art of good old fashion peer pressure does not work well with Calvin, so I guess just won't know until he takes me wherever he takes me, right?"

"Right." Jim chuckled.

"The Bay Boys were nothing, but peer pressure, so I already know how that shit works." Calvin playfully shot back. "Jim and I here are like the peer pressure KINGS."

"Use to be-," Jim corrected, meeting Calvin across the table for a fist bump.

"Well this explains a lot." Duncan choked, giving Jim's thigh a squeeze. "Peer pressure is how you've got me wrapped around your finger, huh?"

"Oh, please. Duncan I did not have to peer pressure you." Jim playfully shot back. "This is coming from the guy who almost came in his swim trunks the night he met me. I'm not even trying to hear it."

"The feeling was mutual."

"Wow this got heavy, fast." Calvin spoke as the entire table erupted into laughter.

For the last 10 minutes Duncan and Calvin semi-argued about who was going to pay the bill. Both boys desperately wanted to cover the whole thing and of course Duncan's FAT ego wasn't going to let Calvin do that, but unfortunately Calvin was faster. When their waitress came back with the check, he slapped his card down on the table before Duncan could even reach for his wallet.

"Someone's ready to get going, huh?" the young waitress questioned, stifling her giggles at Calvin's eagerness. He gave Duncan a winning smirk as the girl walked away.

"I said I got it." Duncan jabbed.

"Clearly not fast enough, Shepherd."

*** "Wanna drive it?" Duncan asked Jim, holding out the cars keys for him.

"Let me get this. The Duncan Shepherd is going to let me, Jim Mason, drive his precious Tesla?" Jim questioned. Duncan was obsessed with his car. He always kept it clean, regular maintenance, and at the slightest ware in paint, he had the ENTIRE car repainted. Out of his love for Jim he got his own custom license plate that read "MASON". Consider it a small reminder to himself, every day.

"Yeah." Duncan said simply. "I know you've been wanting to drive her. I see the way your eyes light up when you look at her and when you get in her." The first time Jim ever rode in Duncan's car he wasted no time figuring out all the features that it had to offer and he was beyond impressed. What really blew him out of the fucking park the first time Duncan put it in self drive mode for their road trip to Vegas.

"Baby are you sure?" Jim asked again, slightly reaching for the keys.

"Yes." Duncan said, placing them in his hands. "C'mon birthday boy." Jim excitedly made his way around to the drivers seat, adjusting it to his needs, Duncan getting in the car shortly after.

"So where are we going?"

"Well." Duncan looked at his watch. "We don't have any where to be until about 3 and it's 1:30 right now, so we can go wherever you want to, ocean eyes."

"Great because I forgot to tell you last night, but we ran out of weed after that last joint, so I desperately want to go to the dispensary."

"We can do that." Duncan chuckled.

Jim felt like he was on cloud nine in the drivers seat. Fortunately for Duncan, Jim just had to go to his favorite dispensary 45 minutes away on the opposite side of town, which was where their next activity was anyways. About 15 minutes into the drive, Duncan had leaned his seat back, slightly sleepy from lunch. Putting the car in self drive, but keeping his eyes on the road, Jim snaked his hand between Duncan's legs, squeezing at him, palming him gently through his shorts.

"Mmmm, what are you doing ocean eyes?" Duncan questioned sleepily, rubbing his eyes, but adjusting himself in his seat so that he was further into Jim's palm.

"Returning the favor, slightly anyways. I'd love to go down on you, but not through LA traffic."Jim answered, pulling Duncan's zipper down, reaching his hand inside to slip him out of his boxers and through his shorts. It didn't take Jim much to get Duncan going. For a few minutes, he stroked him nice and slow, licking his hand in-between. "Just relax, yeah? Can you relax for me?"

"Mhmmm." Duncan nodded, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his shorts, but keeping them up just in case he quickly needed to tuck himself away. Jim was stroking him faster now, Duncan struggling to maintain even, regulated breaths. One hand had a death grip on Jim's thigh, the other, rubbing in small strides across his own chest. Finally catching up to Jim's pace, he began thrusting upward into Jim's hand. The sounds of Duncan's sighs and moans almost made Jim turn the car around so they could go back home.

Jim licked his hand one more time, getting up whatever taste he could of Duncan before really going at him. And when Duncan showed the tell-tale signs of reaching his peak, Jim did not slow down or give Duncan a break. And within seconds, Duncan came messily in his hand, moaning Jim's name loudly as he did so.

"So." Jim spoke again as he cleaned Duncan up off his fingers. "Anything particular you want from the dispo or?"

"N-n- no." Duncan answered as he struggled to tuck himself back into his shorts, still sensitive. "W-w-whatever you buy it's fine."

"What's the matter, scruffy?" Jim joked.

"Ha. Ha." Duncan mocked.

After what felt like forever moving through LA traffic, they finally got there and lucky enough for them there was just enough street parking spaces so that Jim wouldn't have to walk far.

"Okay. I'll be like 15 minutes, max."

"Here, take my card."

"Dunc, you don't gotta."

"Yeaaaah, I do. You see. You don't have any of your credit cards today. Not even your debit card."

"Wh-,"

"I took them all out of your wallet last night. Don't worry. They're safe at home in our lock box. You won't be paying for anything today."

"Oh my gosh, Duncan. Why do you always do this?"

"Because I love you. And because it's your birthday? You really think I'm going to let you pay for anything on your birthday? You've forgotten who you're dating already? Sheesh."

"Of course not. Big man. With a big ego and a big heart. And a fucking fat di-,"

"Exactly."

"You left my ID in there though right?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Then I'll be right back."

"I'll be here."

*** If Jim wasn't overwhelmed with happiness, he was now. He had been talking to Duncan for weeks about how he was saving up for a tattoo he really wanted and an industrial piercing. So when they pulled up to one of the most highly rated tattoo shops in Los Angeles, Jim swore he was going to throw up out of excitement.

"Ayeeee, Duncan!" the shop owner greeted him with a huge smile and a firm handshake. "Is this the birthday boy?"

"It is!" Duncan answered, wrapping his arm around Jim's waist and pulling him closer to him.

"Nice to meet you." he stuck his arm out for Jim to shake. "Jesse."

"Jim." Jim returned the handshake eagerly.

"Just the way Dunc described you. Let me tell you, if this man talks about anything, it's his ocean-eyed boyfriend."

"And how do you two know each other?" Jim questioned, looking back and forth between the two.

"Jesse, here." Duncan began. "Was assigned to my team at work like 2 weeks ago. We're starting new projects, remember? Anyways. I got the pleasure of getting to know each of my team members closely this past week, Jesse especially and he just happened to let me know that he has his own tattoo parlor and it just happened to be one of the best places in LA."

"They're usually closed today, but Jesse is here today, for you. He'll get that industrial piercing you've been wanting done for you too." Jim shook Jesse's hand again.

"Thank you." Jim said. "I don't know how-. Fuck."

"Ahhhh don't worry about it buddy, come on back to my chair. I'll show you what I sketched out, you'll tell me if you like it, and if you do, we decide where it goes. If you don't, we'll sketch it out again for you. Sound good?"

"Sounds good." Jim answered as he trailed behind Jesse.

"And after that we'll get that piercing done and send you on your way, birthday boy."

"Hey." Duncan said, grabbing Jim's arm. "I'll be back there in a minute, okay? Just gonna make a quick phone call."

"I love you." was all Jim could say back.

"I love you too."

"So you like to surf, huh?" Jesse asked Jim as sat across in his chair from Jim, picking up his sketch pad off his work table that neatly held a tattoo gun, several disposable tattooing needles, several different colored inks, several different cleaning materials and anti-septics, and tattoo balm. Jim looked around Jesse's space that was covered in surfing posters and wallpaper. There were several pictures on the wall of Jesse in his surfing gear, catching waves, and on the beach with his friends. And if he was staring hard enough, he could of sworn that the background in those pictures were Palos Verdes.

"I do." Jim answered proudly. "And I see that you like to too."

"Well that's all we really had to keep us out of trouble in Palos Verdes."

"You're from PV?" Jim followed up.

"Not originally, but it was most of my childhood, until I moved here." Ripping the sketch from his sketchbook, Jim noticed the Bay Boys tattoo located on Jesse's right shoulder, a detail he had initially glanced over.

"And you were a Bay Boy?"

"Unfortunately."

"Yeah, same..." Jim mumbled.  

"Really, huh? Are you from PV?"

"Not originally." Jim laughed causing Jesse to laugh too.

"A man with good humor. I appreciate that." Jesse commented. "Man. Joining the Bay Boys had to be one of the worst decisions of my life. Here let's get this out of the way first and then we'll talk."

Jesse handed Jim his sketch. The design was beautiful. Two surf boards next to each other, nestled upright in some sand, waves painting the background. In the sand, sat a really detailed outline of Jim and Medina, Jim has his head turned towards her as she looks out into the waves. He has one knee to his chest and Medina sits with both knees up to her chest. It was the photo that Duncan had took of  them their last group visit to a beach.

"I love it." Jim croaked out.

"I was hoping you would. Now do you want it all black with shading gradients or do we want to play around with some color?"

"We can play with some color."

"And where do you want it?"

"Left thigh."

"Good size?"

"Perfect size. Any bigger and I'd have to move it to my ribs."

"Perfect."

*** "Well. You've got a lot of heart, Jim." Jesse said. The two had been talking for about 45 minutes, the both of them sharing a little bit about their background, life before PV, life in PV, and life now. "It took as much heart for you to try to stay as it did for you to leave. I rode out the end of my Bay Boys saga until our chapter disbanded. And I'm sorry to hear about your parents too. Trust me, I know. Dad did the same fucking thing to mom." He had just got through with the outline and now it was time for the shading. Different shades of blues, oranges, yellows, pink and red hues would now paint Jim's thigh. Before Jim could continue their conversation, Duncan walked into the room.

"Shit. That wasn't suppose to take me so long. I could not get these fuckers to stop talking for the life of me." he said, pulling up a chair on the opposite side of Jim. "Doesn't hurt too bad does it?"

"Honestly, no." Jim answered, grabbing ahold of Duncan's hand and kissing his knuckles.

"I'm surprised." Jesses said. "Usually the thigh is a tough spot for most people. Super fucking tender."

"Isn't the worst pain I've ever felt." Jim grinned at Jesse.

"I take it you two have been having good conversation?" Duncan's eyes lit up.

"Always good conversation with a fellow Bay Boy, yeah?" Jesse answered.

"Well not always." Jim interjected, his leg twitching slightly as the needle hit a nerve.

"I knew you two would like each other."

The rest of Jim's tattoo session was conversation between the 3 boys and when Jim got tired of speaking, wrapped up in his tattoo as it was almost done, Duncan spoke to Jesse about their upcoming project, his hand never leaving Jim's for more than a minute. After Jesse finished and got Jim all cleaned up, his snapped a picture of his finished work, then took a picture with Jim. He gave Jim his industrial piercing which was a new level of pain for Jim and Duncan would have the bruise to show for it tomorrow. Jim couldn't thank Jesse enough.

"Wanna go start the car?" Duncan asked Jim. "I'll be out there in 5 minutes."

"Yeah, I will." Jim said, kissing Duncan on his cheek and shaking Jesse's hand one more time. "Thanks again, Jesse."

"Come back and see me, Jim."

"Definitely."

"So how much do I owe you?" Duncan asked, reaching for his wallet in his back pocket.

"Nothing. Free of charge for a former Bay Boy and a new friend."

"Oh c'mon Jesse. You have to let me-,"

"Actually you know what you can do? You can bring some of those kick ass chocolate chip muffins that you're always making. Oh and two extra for my wife and kid, yeah? Sound fair?"

"Are you sure?"

"Duncan. Chocolate. Chip. Muffins. K? Now get outta here so I can go home. It's rude to keep your lover waiting, y'know?"

"See you at work Monday, J." Duncan smiled as he shoved his wallet back in his pocket.

Duncan hopped in the car with Jim who stared down at his tattoo with the brightest smile on his face even though it was wrapped up and he could barely make it out. He knew the real thing underneath the wrap and that's what kept him smiling. I'm about an hour he'd be able to take it off and look at it whole again.

"Okay." Duncan said, reaching for something in his glovebox. He pulled out a baby blue blindfold. "Put this on."

"But why-,"

"Just put it on. You'll only be wearing it for about 30 minutes, okay? I have something to show you, but I don't want you to see it until we get there." Jim nodded, putting on his blindfold, making it as secure as possible.

"Hopefully it's to get ice-cream. Cause I really want some Ice-cream, Dunc."

"Oh you'll get your ice-cream, don't worry."

"I don't know if I should be afraid now or not." Jim laughed, reaching around until his hand found Duncan's thigh. "Can you at least change the radio? I hate this song." Duncan did as he asked, putting the car in drive and beginning their journey.

The closer the time got, the more nervous Duncan became. What if he messed up? He had gone over his plenty of times with Medina over numerous amounts of phone calls and video calls and plenty of times in his head today, so why was he still so nervous. He glanced over at Jim, who despite being blind folded was having a pretty good time. He was semi dancing and singing along to the song that played on the radio.

When Duncan pulled up to their final destination he was overwhelmed with nostalgia. It's been a while since he's last seen the hotel where he met Jim. Where he laid eyes on the stunning beach boy with beautiful hair, beautiful eyes, and a heart warming smile as he sat a couple seats down from him at the hotel's beach bar. Where he made a decision that would change both of their lives forever and where he was about to make a decision that would change both of their lives once again.

Duncan had actually gotten the room, yesterday, that way is already prepped and ready to go the way he wanted it for the both of them. He managed to leave work a few hours early to meet up with Calvin and Medina who helped him set up the room. Hours and hours spent gift wrapping and rearranging the room, within hotel standards of course. However, not before Duncan gave Medina her own set of gifts, remembering some of the things she had her eyes on from previous conversations.

"Jim is going to love this." Medina said as she sat on the hotel bed, eyeing the limited edition surfboard that Jim had struggled to get his hands on for the past few months because it was always sold out. Little did he know that Duncan had be watching the market too, intensely and as soon as they became available again, he was on it. "Like he might actually shit himself, holy shit. He's been talking about this bad boy for months."

"Trust me." Duncan began, remembering all the conversations between him and Jim about that surfboard. "I know." Duncan looked around each part of the room that had a gift for Jim in it, taking a deep breath. He pulled out the little box he had in his pocket, opening it to look at the ring inside before quickly closing it and sighing.

"Why so gloomy all of a sudden?" Medina asked as she watched Calvin finish wrapping Jim's last gift.

"Not gloomy. Just nervous."

"Nervous why?"

"What if he says no? What if he's not ready? What if I'm not ready?"

"The both of you are ready. Anyone with eyes could see that. I'm surprised Jim hasn't asked you to marry him first, honestly. Most of conversations, when we're done twinning of course, are about you." she began. "He stresses so much about being perfect for you, Dunc. Don't tell him I told you this, but sometimes he'll call me just to cry over the smallest gesture of kindness you show to him randomly throughout the day and of course I'll listen and then we'll laugh about it and I'll tell him how crazy the both of you are. He wants you, forever."

"Alright." Duncan said as he put the car in park, getting out and quickly walking over to Jim's side to open his door. "C'mon. Take my hand."

"This'll be fun." Jim chuckled. "Always wanted to do some sort of trust challenge."

"I'll be sure to hit every wall, okay?" Jim grabbed Duncan's hand allowing for him to get him out of the car. Closing Jim's door, he wrapped his arm around Jim's shoulder, holding him close. Jim in return threw his arms around Duncan's waist. "I got you."

"Can I at least know where we are?" Jim asked.

"You'll know in a second."

"But, Duncan." Jim whined. "I've waited so long and I miss looking at you."

"5 more minutes. 5 more minutes and you can take it off, yeah?"

"Fiiiiiiine." Jim groaned as him and Duncan walked closely together. Jim knew he was in a building, he knew he had gotten in an elevator. He knew there were other people in his building as well, but that's all he knew. Duncan stood him in front of the room door. The same room Jim decided to walk into that night. Room 707.

"Jim, is it?" Duncan asked, eyeing the surfer boy who took up the opportunity to come visit him in his hotel room.

"Yeah..." Jim answered, struggling to maintain eye contact with Duncan.

"Duncan." Duncan said back, grabbing Jim's hand and pulling him into the room, closing the door behind him. "So Jim, tell me. What made you take me up on my offer?"

"Adventure." Jim said, turning around and snatching Duncan's towel off of his waist, grabbing him by the back of his neck and kissing him.

Duncan opened the door, guiding Jim inside and carefully through the room and back outside on the balcony where he spent most of his mornings, typing away at a presentation for his past life in DC.

"Okay, you can take your blind fold off now." Duncan said, clearing his throat and now running his hand through his hair for the third time today. Jim loosened the knot with one pull, removing the blind fold from his eyes and taking in his surroundings once his vision adjusted to the city lights. "Any of this look for familiar?"

Of course it did. How could it not? Jim remembered every single interaction they've shared on this balcony, most of them naughty, but not all of them. This is the balcony where he quickly came to realize that he was getting attached to Duncan. He quickly realized that what was suppose to be something quick and fun, was no longer that. He had feelings for Duncan Shepherd.

"So like. How do you make it through so many presentations in a week?" Jim questioned as he sat in Duncan's lap, straddling him as he scrolled through his work emails. He sat in the chair located on the balcony of his hotel room, his other hand, snaked around Jim.

"Lots and lots and lots of caffeine." Duncan answered, sighing, dipping his fingers in the waist band of Jim's shorts. "And right now, you."

"Me?" Jim questioned.

"Yeah because I know the faster I finish." Duncan began, locking his phone and setting down on the side table. He sat up a little bit, placing both hands on the small of Jim's back. "The faster I finish. The faster I get to see you and the faster we get to hangout and play."

### Jim leaned over the balcony railing, Duncan behind him, arms wrapped around him tightly. He rested his chin gently on top of Jim's head, rubbing his thumb back and forth across Jim's stomach. Today had been particularly rough for both boys and when Jim had received a rather urgent text from Duncan, asking him to come see him even though the two were just together this morning, Jim was there.

"Do you ever just feel like what you do isn't good enough?" Duncan questioned.

"All the time." Jim answered. "All the time, but sometimes you have to say fuck it and realize you are enough or it is enough. It'll be hard at first and sometimes for me it still is. It's always going to be, but once you do say fuck it and realize that you are enough, you change. Who's got you feeling like what you do isn't good enough?"

"I don't really want to talk about it just yet. Just want to be close to you." Duncan let slip out, hoping that Jim didn't hear. But he did, but he kept silent, pressing himself further back into Duncan.

### Duncan held Jim in his arms, Jim's legs wrapped around his waist as the two kissed passionately. Jim had his arms wrapped around Duncan's neck, a hand tangled in his hair. And for a moment, the world around Duncan stopped. Here he was, a month a half into his two month long business trip, finding himself falling for Jim. Usually Duncan was pretty straight forward with his one night stands and flings, but not Jim. Jim became more than that after one week because as hard as Duncan tried he couldn't get the boy out of his mind after he took him to breakfast the morning after they hooked up.

"Duncan I-," Jim began, his eyes filling with tears. "You-,"

"No tears." Duncan said, wiping away the few that managed to fall. "Not yet because I need to talk to you. I was going to wait until dinner to do this, but I'm tired of waiting now."

"O..okay." Jim managed to get out, trying his best to hold back his tears again.

*** A trail of clothes led to the bed where Duncan topped Jim from the bottom. His fingers dug deeply into Jim's hips as thrusted upwards at an even pace. A pace that was hitting Jim in all the right places, making him cry out Duncan's name every so often. Jim leaned forward, resting his face in the crook of Duncan's neck, leaving sloppy kisses and love bites as he ran his left hand down Duncan's chest. Duncan grew goosebumps, feeling the cold touch of the engagement ring that now was on Jim's ring finger. And for a moment he stopped, grabbing that same hand and bringing it up to his lips, giving it a kiss.

He rolled the both of them over so that he was on top of Jim now, immediately connecting their lips for an intense kiss. Jim in no way, shape, or form, had any intentions of even trying to be dominant with Duncan this evening. Slowly and without disconnecting their lips, Duncan moved in and out of Jim, Jim already so sensitive in all the right places, whimpering against Duncan's lips and wrapping his legs around his waist. Jim had already came twice riding the mess out of Duncan, already missing the feeling of Duncan's warm and large hands stroking him out, and he was closing in on third, hands free, just like how Duncan liked it.

Finally separating from Jim's lips, Duncan let out a breath taking moan as he bottomed himself out in Jim, moving in circular motions as he pushed into Jim's spot over and over. The both of them whispered sweet and loving words into the others ear, Duncan with his arms cradling the sides of Jim's head. And just as Jim got comfortable with the rhythm Duncan had gotten into, he threw him completely off, speeding up.

"Dunc, I'm so close."  Jim moaned out, scratching down Duncan's back, happy tears forming again in his eyes. "Fuck me harder... please." Duncan didn't even question it. Positioning himself upright now instead of laying against Jim, he kept Jim's legs wrapped around his waist once again, carefully gripping and holding the back of his thigh, not wanting to touch and hurt his fresh tattoo.

He was fucking Jim now, relentlessly, but with a burning passion that said nothing but "I love you.".

"Oh fuck!" Jim yelled, throwing his head back, but Duncan brought his eyes back to him.

"No, don't stop looking this way." Duncan said between his moans, not letting up his thrusts that were quickly becoming uneven. "Want to see your pretty face when I make you cum for the 4th time today." Jim was already making small squirts against his stomach every time Duncan slammed back into, a portion of his back lifting up off the bed every time. He eyes darted between Duncan's and the mess he was creating on himself.  

"I love you, ocean eyes." Duncan moaned as his thrusts became even more sloppy.

"I- I- I-," Jim struggled to get back out, his vision becoming blurry as he neared his end and he could tell Duncan was nearing his end too.

"I know, baby boy. I know." Duncan threw Jim's legs over his shoulders, pinning his arms above his head. Jim wasn't even speaking in full sentences anymore, his moans and pants become broken and desperate and Duncan ruined him. "Cum with me, yeah?"

Duncan looked Jim straight in his eyes as he said that and that was enough for Jim to lose it all. He came, hard, Duncan letting one of his arms go to stroke him out. Now with a free hand, Jim slammed Duncan's lips back against his own, Duncan immediately releasing and moaning loudly into their kiss.

The two laid there for a while, Duncan still inside of Jim, resting his head against his chest, taking in the sound of Jim's now steady heartbeat. And if they didn't have to be at Jim's and Medina's birthday dinner in an hour and a half they could lay here forever.

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @9layerdevilfoodcake @xavierplympton @mikhalxngdon @fernfiction @theneverendinghunger @dorklydefined

#cody fern #cody fern imagine #jim mason #jim mason imagine #the tribes of palos verdes #duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd imagine #jim mason smut #duncan shepherd smut #duncan shepherd x Jim mason #house of cards #duncan x jim

[sarcasm-and-references]

may or may not have written a 5 paragraph, 1000+ word character analysis of Jim Lake Jr and his healthy masculinity for fun

i’m not even kidding there’s a literal essay beneath the cut

James Lake Junior; Jim; the trollhunter. The lead protagonist of Dreamworks’ Trollhunters: Tales of Arcadia is a fan-favorite for good reason. Utter vulnerability and emotional maturity allows Jim a distinct and refreshing character archetype. Yet, he is not the antithesis of the modern day animated action hero. Jim perfectly walks the line between stereotype and not, thus demonstrating a rare example of healthy masculinity in teenage boys. He is an exemplary role model, and one which is uniquely important in shows directed primarily at families and children.

Upon first impression, Jim seems a typical boyish hero, attracting many young viewers. He is, admittedly, quite the ordinary character on the surface. His primary color is blue, he gushes obsessively over Vespas, his favorite movie is an action film called Gun Robot, and he’s attracted to girls. Obviously, Jim displays many traditionally masculine traits. As a human, at least, he is lanky, and, quite frankly, average looking. He is white and has a simple name. If one were to look at his character and his basic personality without watching the show, Jim may appear mostly plain. Moreover, he is portrayed as somewhat of a social outcast alongside his seemingly stereotypical best friend, Toby. The two play video games and use walkie talkies to communicate, a standard dynamic for any “dorky” duo of children’s entertainment. This garners the attention of a variety of today’s young boys and children in general. Ultimately: Jim is entirely relatable. Sarcastic, witty, and protective, Jim takes to the mantle of ‘reluctant hero’ well and wins the favor of fans. As the series progresses, Jim grows into a strong defender and powerful threat to the story’s variety of villains, often sacrificing himself for the sake of his loved ones. To put it simply, Jim has a sword, he becomes athletic, he is the hero. He is a stereotype, yet this is not necessarily a negative aspect of his character and, more importantly, his impact on the younger generation.

Despite displaying ostensibly typical traits, Jim is simultaneously an incredibly rare type of hero. He is, indeed, pure of heart and courageous, yet he is also uniquely in touch with his emotions. What’s more, many aspects of Jim’s personality are those which are usually attributed to feminine characters. While not necessarily effeminate, Jim is in touch with a side of himself which most other teenage boys (both fictional and not) aren’t. This is clear from the moment he is introduced. In fact, his first spoken words are, “Love you, mom.” This line is, surprisingly, a certain indicator of Jim’s vulnerability. Jim says this to his mom, making her breakfast and caring for her as she sleeps after a long night at the hospital at which she works. There is no one watching him do this, no one to impress and no façade to maintain. His bond with his mother is genuine. He is shown to deeply regret keeping his adventures secret from her and value their bond. Furthermore, Jim goes out of his way to respect his eventual girlfriend, Claire, and does not downplay her capabilities for any reason. Rather, Jim dedicates time to their relationship and supports her own arc. He wants to be strong for his mother and for Claire just as he does for his male mentors and Toby. Although his intentions may be skewed by his crush on Claire, Jim auditions and performs well as Romeo in the school play. This is not often a hobby of teenage main characters, unless the work focuses on members of a theater department. In reality, there is an astoundingly small number of teen boys involved in theater. Once again, Jim defies that which is expected for his type of character. Perhaps Jim’s most definingly unusual hobby is that he loves to cook. In fact, Jim often cooks for his mother, underscoring his compassionate nature. Aside from surface level traits, Jim is emotionally mature. Initially, he is reluctant to harm other living things and often is only shown to hurt or kill when defending others. He owns up to his mistakes, one of which being his solo journey into the Darklands. He processes such lasting consequences and feelings and learns from them, rather than brushing off pivotal points in his arc (another example of which being perhaps his greatest self-sacrificing act of the first series: his decision to become half-troll). All in all, Jim is the picture of healthy masculinity. This is highlighted in what may be the pinnacle of his emotional maturity: the multiple scenes in which he freely cries. Jim has been known to sob earnestly and rawly when faced with especially difficult or intense situations. This is not at all frowned upon, nor is it even light-heartedly made fun of at any point. Ultimately, Jim is aware of and completely processes his feelings.

Throughout history and still in today’s sociopolitical climate, vulnerability in young men is not commonly seen in the media. Thus, many young boys and children are influenced by what they view in video games, television, films, books, etc… They are often told to push down any “weak” emotion in order to show strength. This notion is drilled into the minds of children and becomes a part of many adults’ (of all genders) perception of masculinity. Likewise, any stereotypically feminine traits exhibited in boys or men are often immediately seen as negative. Basically, a person like Jim is as rare as a character like him. For Jim to be so unique and still seen as a role model, or simply as cool, is nearly paradoxical. It is essential to the development of healthy masculinity and sense of self in growing adolescents. In the opinion of the author, Jim is the epitome of this concept and his role in Trollhunters: Tales of Arcadia leaves viewers with a lasting impression of what a modern teenage hero should be, and the values they should encourage. This is especially significant as the show is primarily directed at the younger generation and quite possibly could be integral to a child’s growth in today’s world.

Jim Lake Jr, is, conclusively, a powerfully influential character and a paragon of the future of teenage male heroes. On a final personal note, he is illustrative of the type of character which I hope to replicate in the media industry as I hopefully pursue a career in film.

#tales of arcadia #wooooo that took so long #if you made it to the end thank you #trollhunters #jim lake jr #james lake jr #toa wizards #toawizards #toa #jim lake #netflix #fandom #writing #essay #character analysis #dreamworks

[takingcourage]

Can I request Simon Montjoy x MC for telling ghost stories? And bonus if I get to see Simon as a father 🥺

Thank you so much for this request, Nonny! Writing Simon as a father was an absolute delight!

This story borrows from Roald Dahl’s The Witches: not a “ghost story,” per se, but one of my favorite scary stories to read as a child. All excerpts are in italics.

_____

They were only an hour in, and Cassidy was already on her third flute of champagne. She sipped from the top of her latest glass, grateful for the fleeting moments when she had the the fizz of bubbles to counter the booming monotone of Viscount Kirkley.

Her grandfather-in-law really did have the most tedious taste in friends.

With a glance toward the opposite end of the room, she saw that Simon was in much the same state. Even from this distance, it was easy for her to see that his eyes had started to look a bit glassy. As he caught her attention, his mouth kinked up in a trademark smirk.

Returning the look with a smile of her own, Cassidy traced a finger over the stem of her glass and tried to give the appearance of being interested in the proceedings. Aside from decorum and the show of solidarity, her real motivation for hosting the evening's festivities was the promise of dancing. It had been too long since she'd had an excuse to dance with her husband.

Behind her, there was a brush of fabric and a quiet titter that sounded very much like an apology. Cassidy turned over her shoulder to find Celeste at her side, one lip caught between her teeth as if steeling herself for something unpleasant.

“I’m sorry to bother you," she sidled close with the whispered interruption. "But if you could join me outside, Ms. Davison would like to speak with you.”

“Of course.” Cassidy followed the other woman through the ballroom and into an adjacent hallway.

Even with a fair amount of alcohol in her system, her blood chilled on reading the distress in Ms. Davison's features. It wasn't the first time the nanny’s face had matched the color of Mitsy's roses, but the florid hue was still a rather unnerving sight to behold.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you, ma'am, but they've disappeared." In spite of her appearance, she managed to keep her tone even. With a deep, resolute breath, she resumed her explanation. "I was only gone for a moment, but I can’t find them anywhere."

“They’re quite good at that,” Simon remarked, sauntering in to round out the little gathering.

“Where were they when you left them?” Cassidy inquired, disposing of her glass on a nearby windowsill.

“The nursery.”

She shared a look with her husband. Even with the size of the estate and its extensive grounds, that could really only mean one thing.

“We’ll find them.” With a slanted brow, Simon downed the rest of his drink and set the glass beside his wife’s.

Following his cue, Cassidy continued, “Why don’t you take the rest of the evening off? We’ll take care of getting them to bed.” No matter what awaited them upstairs, it was preferable to enduring the rest of the night’s speeches. It wasn’t quite the distraction she might have hoped for, but she was hardly going to turn her nose up once it had appeared.

The relief in the nanny’s eyes was immediate. “If you’re sure, ma’am. Violet hasn’t been any trouble; she’s been sleeping since half past. I'd just gone to check on her when the other two ran off."

The news was hardly surprising. Their youngest was still too small to get herself into much trouble unless prompted by the other two. Somewhat unfortunately, the eldest Montjoy siblings were more than capable of producing enough mischief on their own.

"We'll see that the other two are tucked in soon."

She and Simon broke off from the group, finding their way to the staircase with purposeful strides. Now that the initial shock had passed, Cassidy was finding it difficult to keep a handle on the laughter that kept bubbling up in her throat. “This is all your fault," she accused, wagging a finger in the direction of her husband's nose. "You must be regretting your decision to show them those passageways last week.”

“And miss this prime opportunity to teach them a lesson? Absolutely not!” The wink he flashed her couldn’t mean anything good. 

When he wheeled toward the left and away from the nursery on cresting the top of the stairs, she caught his meaning. With a quiet gasp of surprise, Cassidy followed close behind him.

“No doubt they’ve snuck in there to tell ghost stories or some such rot.”

“Like you did when you were their age?”

“I didn’t run away from my nannies in the middle of parties.”

From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the telltale tilt of his smile. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Well....” he equivocated, “circumstances were different. Mine knew about the passages and could follow after me if they wished. My disappearances may have been a nuisance, but they were never a hazard to anyone’s health. Did you see the vein in her forehead just now? I hope she goes home for a proper lie-down.”

“We really ought to give the poor woman a raise,” Cassidy considered as they passed into the Blythe Room. "Even with us, those two are quite a handful."

Simon slid an arm behind the headboard, easily locating the release for the passage door. "I wouldn't have them any other way: unspoiled by the world, free to let their imaginations wander wherever they may. They’re rather perfect."

Her heart clenched at the tenderness of his statement. Their children were curious and kind and compassionate, with a mischievous streak just wide enough to keep life full of excitement. It was little wonder their family and all the household staff were so fond of them. 

"...though I shall need to have a chat with them about this particular scheme -- how they thought they'd get away with it, I'll never know."

"Do we have a plan of attack?" She joined him at the entrance in the wall, starting to feel the adrenaline thrum through her extremities.

"We sneak in and scare the dickens out of them," he shared matter of factly. “Does that meet your approval?”

“I can be pretty quiet when I need to be.”

“I know you can, darling.” The flash of heat in his dark eyes sent a thrill across her skin.

She was going to have to get him back for that later. Removing her shoes, Cassidy hooked the thin straps over her fingers and tiptoed into the tunnel after him. Her anticipation rose as the light faded behind them, leaving them in almost total darkness. As they rounded the corner, she could just make out the glow of a torch around the next bend.

“Shhh,” Simon warned needlessly.

With great effort, she managed not to elbow him in the ribs. If he thought she’d be the one to ruin a prank, he was quite mistaken.  

They edged closer, Amelia’s voice growing more articulate with every step. "Don't stop! It's getting to the good part."

"How should you know? You've never read this book before."

"I can tell! My neck is tingling. Feel it!"

“Fine.” There was an indistinguishable grumble before Calvin resumed reading:

“Did you ever see that painting, Grandmamma, with the little girl in it?”

“Many times," my grandmother said. "And the peculiar thing was that little Solveg kept changing her position in the picture --”

From somewhere ahead of them, Amelia gasped at the revelation.

“One day she would actually be inside the farmhouse and you could see her face looking out of the window. Another day she would be far over to the left with a duck in her arms.”

Cassidy predicted Simon’s response even before she heard his measured intake of breath.

"Quack-wack! Quack. Wack-wack!"

The noises weren't terribly convincing, but it didn't matter: a pair of shrieks echoed before they'd even stepped into view. Two small bodies were huddled tightly against the wall, though they jerked apart as soon as their parents appeared. A flashlight rolled aimlessly before coming to stop at Simon’s feet.

"What do we have here?" he asked, retrieved the torch to spotlight each child in turn. Though the shrieking had stopped, they were still working to catch their breaths. Still clinging to the cover of the book, Calvin held his hand to his chest. "A pair of escapologists who think it's clever to scare their nanny to death?"

Amelia's brow plummeted at the accusation. "We didn't mean to frighten her."

"Yeah!" her brother joined in, dropping the book to his side with the force of conviction. "We just wanted to read! Ms. Davison said we couldn't because she thinks it's too scary --"

"--even though you and mama told us we could. It's not fa--"

Simon's level gaze ensured that his daughter’s pouting was short lived.

Heaving a sigh, Amelia dusted off the book cover and replaced the bookmark that she'd been worrying between her fingers. "We'll write a letter to apologize tomorrow morning. Is she still here? We could go and tell her sorry right now."

"We sent her home, but I think she'd be grateful for an apology tomorrow," Cassidy encouraged, wondering how it was possible to move from fear, to frustration, to regret quite so quickly. Amelia rose, coming to meet her with a hug that suggested the depth of her feelings.

"Can we get back to the book then?" their son piped up again. "We can’t stop in the middle of a chapter.”

Simon handed him the light and considered the question, carding a hand through his son’s hair in the meantime. Calvin made a show of shying away from the attention, though the attempt was halfhearted. “If you promise to pen your apologies first thing tomorrow morning.”

“We do!” the children chimed in chorus.

Simon chucked the boy’s chin and took a step toward the nursery. “Then perhaps we should finish the chapter together before we send you off to bed.”

“Really?”

Simon darted back at his daughter’s question. “You know I don’t joke about story time.”

“But the party!” Amelia objected, eyebrows slanting into a perfect facsimile of Simon’s.

“We’ll go back after you’ve gone to bed.”

Satisfied with the answer, she joined her brother in trekking back though the dim hallway.

“Don’t drag your heels now, into your jim-jams!" Simon cast an eye after them before falling back to walk with his wife. With practiced ease, he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her near. “I rather like this turn of events.”

“We’re as bad as the children, running out on our own party.”

“It’s grandfather’s party.”

“That we’re hosting,” Cassidy reminded, making a mental list of all the ways their sudden disappearance must have violated conventions.

“My grandparents are more than capable of seeing to the guests. Besides, it’s not as if people aren’t used to us being a bit... unconventional now and then.”

As they made it back through the nursery passage, she considered the pronouncement. “I was never one for conventions.” His hold on her hip tightened, and she settled comfortably into his side.

“It’s one of my favorite things about you, darling. Now, let’s get these two miscreants of ours to bed. if we time it right, we’ll be back just in time for dancing.”

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #a very scandalous proposal #simon montjoy #simon montjoy x mc #choices vip #vip choices #long post

[kneamet]

Angel of cards (10/16)

Trigger Warning: no.

Summary: Joker, Mr. J, anarchist psychopath, Tom Hiddleston. He had many nicknames. Joker was Gotham’s most dangerous and insightful man, with sharp makeup and horribly memorable scars on his face in the form of a smile. He was absolutely crazy and deadly. No one knows his real identity and everyone is afraid of his cruel jokes. But what happens when he becomes obsessed with an ordinary girl?

She belongs to him. No one can take her away from him. Even The Batman.

Chapter ten: Regrets

"Remember, honey, it's very dangerous in Gotham. Maybe you should have stayed in New York, Blake." a handsome man was talking, tucking his crisp white shirt into his black jeans and shouldering the phone he was using.

On the line, the girl chuckled.

"Uncle Harvey," she said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. The man rolled his eyes and chuckled slightly. "I'm an adult now and I can make my own decisions, you know. By the way, can I stay with you?" Harvey smiled. What a cheeky niece he has.

"Harvey, are you coming soon?" a pretty woman shouted, peering out of the aisle. She was already fully dressed: a dark pink T-shirt that clung to her figure and blue, slightly frayed jeans. "Your niece has already arrived and is waiting for us. You said you didn't want to be late," she rolled her eyes.

"Yes, yes, now, Rachel," the man said to the woman, buttoning the last black button. Harvey shifted the phone to his big, strong hand as he left the room and turned off the door. "We have already talked about this topic. Until you find a place to live and can fully support yourself, you'll be staying with Rachel and me. All right, bye, " he said, watching his girlfriend's mocking face. He hung up and smiled at Rachel, who was waiting for him outside the door, looking extremely unhappy but very cheerful.

***

"Here you go, Harvey. Have some strong coffee, " said the Gotham Police Commissioner, a dashing detective named Jim Gordon. He handed Harvey a cup of coffee, which Dent immediately accepted and scratched under his nose, lightly brushing his dark gray mustache.

James didn't particularly like seeing Harvey in this position. He was a very strong man who had virtually no weaknesses, yet was so easily broken.

He suddenly fixed his gaze on the dark sky, stopping looking at Harvey. His thoughts were full of thoughts of the lost one. About Harvey Dent's niece. He didn't really remember her, since they rarely saw each other, except when she was about eight and he was just starting out as a cop. Ah, there were times, he sighed, adjusting his glasses. He was young then, and she was still a child.

"She's my only relative," a male voice whispered softly, and Gordon turned his attention to him. He looked down, raising his hands and starting to play with them.

He had nothing to say. They were trying to find Dent's niece, but they were starting to give up. It's already the second day, and they don't have any notes, except for the video from the bank and the Joker's appeal. They are helpless in this matter.

The Joker is too powerful.

"I tried to protect her. He said she shouldn't fly back to Gotham, that she should stay in New York and get a job there, and forget her old town," Harvey looked up at Jim and gave a little shrug. His eyes were fixed on nothing. He couldn't think of anything but Blake. It was sickening.

James clenched his hands into fists and sat down in the second chair, which was next to the one where Harvey was sitting, and looked down. He had nothing to say but the usual encouragement, but even then he was powerless.

"We'll try to do something about it. We'll try to stop the Joker and help Blake. He looked up at Dent, who was clutching an already empty red automatic coffee cup. He made an unpleasant sound as he hesitated, and Gordon only bit his lip as he swallowed.

The commissioner could see Harvey's hatred for everything that was going on. He saw his unbearable desire to save everyone, and especially to protect his relatives. It was very true.

"Will you try to do something? Try it?!" Harvey growled, standing up from the hard black chair and tossing the cup to the side, not even paying attention to it. He didn't want to raise his voice too much right now, but it was necessary. What the fuck is he talking about?

"Harvey..." Jim tried to calm him down, raising his hands at chest level and trying to touch Harvey's broad shoulders, but he just kept towering over the policeman and clenching his hands tightly into fists. He pressed his lips into a thin line, exhaling loudly.

"You should start investigating this case right now and try to find my niece!" shouted Dent loudly, pointing his index finger at Gordon's chest, who was standing there with a very confused look on his face.

***

"Uncle Harvey!" a voice Dent recognized shouted in the distance, and he raised his head from the ground and looked for his niece in the crowd. There were a lot of people, but it was her. Suddenly, he felt as if someone had bumped into him. He looked down and saw his niece. Wow, she's grown up.

"Blake," he whispered softly, wrapping his arms around his only relative and squeezing her tight and warm, not even paying attention to what was now a very, very, hug. Oh, it's been so long since they've seen each other.

He raised his head, still holding the girl in his arms, and looked at Rachel, who was looking at the family meeting with a warm smile. He smiled at her and looked down, resting his head on the top of Blake's head.

"I missed you."

"And me."

***

"What should I do?" Bruce whispered softly to himself in the privacy of his private room. He ran a hand through his smooth and combed hair and only sighed meekly.

The man ran his hands through his hair, lowering his head down. He had to do something fast, or Blake would get hurt. It will suffer greatly. What should I do?

He had known her for a long time. Probably since childhood. He was twenty and a half when they first met, but she was a very interesting child. He hadn't known Harvey at the time, but he'd seen a lot of his brother, who worked for his company.

He sighed softly and looked at the floor-to-ceiling windows. He saw the dark night of Gotham. Soon Batman will have to go to his post, not even counting the fact that his suit hasn't been completely repaired.

He liked Blake. She was fun and you could talk to her about all the topics that are possible. However, Harvey didn't particularly like the fact that they were communicating, but despite his protests, they were still able to communicate.

Bruce chuckled and put his head down again, putting his hands in his lap and getting up. Now he will play the role of Batman. Wayne clenched his hand into a fist. It's time to do justice.

#loki #loki x reader #yandere loki #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston gif #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston smut #yandere #yandere Tom Hiddleston #yandere loki x reader #tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddleston x oc #OC: Blake Dent #harvey dent #batman #bruce wayne #tom hiddleston as the joker #joker x reader #joker #yandere joker #angel of cards #jim gordon #fanfiction #fanfic #obsession #obsessive #obsessive tom hiddleston #obsessive loki #yandere tom hiddleston

[akp-1327]

dear diary // chapter eight

Hellooo! I’m alive, I swear! Just wanted to thank y’all for all the support and patience. I know I fell out of the loop with updates, though I absolutely love that you all like this series and are sticking around for it! It seriously makes my day to receive such kind feedback! Anyway, enough from me. Here’s the next chapter! <3

As always, find the series masterlist here (Tumblr) or here (AO3) to catch up! :)

Pairings: Ajay Bhandari x f!MC (Charlotte Parker), Skye Crandall x f!OC (Leila Maciel)

Word Count: 5.3k

(*) Warnings: mentions of divorce and minor injuries (nothing graphic)

(A cynical Ajay is always a great time, right? ;)

Holy crap.

It was wild being back here.

Did I feel like an alien right when I walked through the door? Absolutely. The whole house just felt different. It lost the usual homey feeling and, instead, felt foreign. The squeak of the wooden steps beneath my feet didn’t even sound the same as it used to.

Mohit and I started to make our way upstairs after Charlotte retreated to the bathroom, the door closing softly behind her. A rare silence fell between us and, finally, I was able--

"Oh my god, Ajay. You brought a girl over. A girl who isn’t your girlfriend?" Mohit teased, poking my arm as we walked down a short hallway. 

So much for silence. Oh, and when Mo said that? I blushed. Profusely. Still, I had to put on a neutral face and hope that my sudden sheepishness didn’t shine through.

"Since when are you an expert on romance?" I quipped, rolling my eyes before I shot him a teasing look. "Do you have something to tell me, Mo? Maybe something about a future sibling-in-law?"

Mohit instantly reeled back in disgust. "Eww! No!"

God, I missed this kid. I ruffled his hair and looked around at the room we wound up in. It had been my dad’s old office, but since the divorce, it just sat there useless (well, so I thought?). All of his stuff stayed because he had to downsize for that stupid little Manhattan apartment, so I guess Mohit took it over. It was littered with soda cans and empty candy wrappers, but smelt like the clean linen Febreeze that Amma spritzed around the house on an everyday basis.

It's been too, too long since I’ve been here. I knew I should’ve been here the past few summers.

I shook the recurring thoughts away and turned back to my brother, who seemingly grew a whole two feet since I last saw him. Crazy.

"It's okay to have a crush, Mo. There's no sense in hiding it. You know I'll find out eventually."

(I guess I could say the same to myself.)

Dismissing the subject entirely with a shake of his head, Mohit let out a dramatic sigh. "What're we doing up here, again? Hiding from Amma and Jim?"

That was such a villainous way to put it. Obviously, though, he was right. I didn't want to see Jim all lovey-dovey with Amma. Now that was gross.

"Just Jim," I responded, "which is why you will go down and greet him first when the time comes. I need to talk to Charlotte before I say hello."

Mohit wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Oh, I I bet. Through some smooooches--”

I mercilessly smacked him upside the head...but, out of some decency, it wasn’t as hard as I wanted it to be.

"Oh dear god, Mo. We aren't going to do anything but talk."

"Hmm," Mohit hummed, still sounding suspicious, "if you say so..."

Just then, before I could respond, Charlotte appeared at the doorway with her arms folded. "Hey. I'm not interrupting any guy talk, am I?"

Mohit laughed, but I chose to ignore it. 

"No, you're not interrupting anything. Come on in." I smiled. I hoped my voice sounded normal because I couldn’t seem to get her out of my head. Thanks, Mohit.

Oh my god...so much for keeping my distance from her...

She walked in and instantly made herself at home on the couch. I mindlessly followed and sat on the opposite side while Mohit (disappointingly) squished himself in the middle with a proud grin.

"Now what?" Charlotte asked, her eyes flitting over to mine. They were such a beautiful blue that reminded me of the ocean. Though, before I could drown myself in the feeling and become overwhelmed, I looked at Mohit's ponder instead.

"It won't take much time for Amma to tell Jim that Ajay's here, so I don’t think we’ll have time to do much." Mohit shrugged. "Well, depending how long you guys stay."

I looked back up to Charlotte, willing myself to hold her gaze this time around before her eyes met mine again. My stomach tied in on itself with just a glance, and that was just due to her eyes. When she smiled, my heart started to race. Pound, even. It was so loud in my ears that I could barely hear her response.

"That’s okay. What about that comic collection you were talking about earlier?" Charlotte grinned, sending me a discreet wink that left me stumbling over my thoughts even further.

"Yeah! You absolutely need to see--" Mohit rambled before I clamped a hand over his mouth. He was not going to interrupt this moment for me with another one of his obsessions. Her eyes were still on mine, her gaze soft. It was such a perfect moment. 

"Let's do it." I said, not looking away from her. In result, I watched her face redden a bit and her smile brighten, if that was even possible.

As much as I loathed Mohit’s (extremely boring and stereotypical) comics, I guess I could tolerate them for a little while. So long as Jim doesn’t know I’m here, we were alright.

*

*

Mohit finished up explaining his entire suitcase of comics before I heard a faint squeak from the stairs. I decided to lean against the threshold of Mo’s room while he and Charlotte geeked out over his Batman collection, but I immediately regretted the choice when I felt a small hand on my shoulder.

“Ajay, sweetie,” Amma whispered, “I told Jim that you’re here.”

My entire frame tensed at his name, but I held in my scowl. Instead, I let out a heavy sigh that caught both Mohit and Charlotte’s attention.

“He’ll be downstairs waiting when you three are ready. He’s watching a game of cricket.” Amma smiled before making her way back downstairs. 

“I’m missing it! Jim, you liar!” Mohit shouted before sprinting out of the room and thundering down the stairs. You could hear a faint thump and a brief yelp at the bottom.

For moments after that, it was silent in Mo’s room, though my mind raced with all of the possibilities. All of the worries. All of the fears.

Admittedly, I’ve had these looming fears for years, but they’d gone dormant the more time I spent away from home. I’ve always thought that I was the one who caused all of this turmoil within my family because of my college expenses - which, to say, is a lot of green - and that I could’ve avoided it entirely. Amma would never say that I’d caused them immense debt to my face, and neither would Dad. 

But, to be real, they didn’t have to.

I can distinctly remember the night before they broke the news. It was during the last few weeks of high school and I had been doing math homework angrily. I was stressed and because math was a spawn from the deepest depths of hell, it wasn’t something I wanted to spend my time on. My pencil bolted across the paper, sometimes squeaking with how hard I’d been writing. After a while, though, I realized the squeaks were turning into coherent words.

Yelling, coming from the kitchen downstairs.

It was maddening to hear, so I tried to tune it out as usual, but then I heard the three familiar words come up: “the college money”.

I dangerously decided to bring it up at breakfast the next morning and apologize; it felt like the only thing I could do. Amma swooped in to shoo away the apology seconds after it tumbled out of my mouth...while Dad only sat there. She was the one who encouraged me while my dad sat on the sidelines, like always. 

That’s really when I realized that my mom was tired of it. Tired of being the only one to give a damn about anything happening in our lives. So she put an end to her problem and filed for divorce. They told me only a few minutes after I’d brought up their fight.

To this day, I feel like I was the hearth. The origins of it all, only because of my desperation for success. To become someone who left a small stamp on this chaotic world.

“Ajay?” Charlotte asked from across the room, snapping me from my thoughts. Her eyes were slanted with concern, and the emotion only grew when I didn’t respond.

With Charlotte around, I felt like I could be my own person. Not be the person who’s parents divorced because of him and not the snarky director. I could be myself with her without having to feel any guilt or shame. This is why I wanted to keep her close; she was the only person who understood what it felt like to be judged. To be an outsider. To be distinctly different from everyone else. 

She was starting to seem like my other half, and as days passed, I noticed that the feeling was only growing stronger. That scared me to death, especially if she decided to do the show. Then I’d really have to call this off and protect myself. 

I’m not going to put myself through hell again.

“Ajay,” Charlotte shouted, her eyes now amused. I cleared my throat and shook my head to clear the thoughts away. “You okay?” 

With a quick nod and an extremely unconvincing smile, I gestured for her to follow me out the door.

“Just fine, um,” I said, my racing thoughts never slowing. Forming coherent sentences with a jumbled-up brain never had a good outcome, so I let my thoughts organize themselves for a moment before responding. “Let’s go downstairs before Amma nags us again.”

She nodded and hesitantly followed me out of the room. I tried to relax with a deep breath, but that just felt like suffocation. So I did not do that again in fear that I’d pass out or embarrass myself even more.

Once we got downstairs, I felt a rush of panic course through my veins.  Charlotte noticed my missing presence and stopped.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked softly, worry flooding her eyes as she turned to me. I searched them for the longest second of my life, and finally, let myself take an actual deep breath.

“Yeah, sorry.” I sighed, shaking my head, “I just really don’t want to do this. It’s...”

Charlotte lit up with a small smile for a moment before it disappeared. “You don’t have to explain. I get it.” Then, without any semblance of warning, she quickly wrapped her arms around me and held me in a tight embrace.

This felt nice. My arms found their way around her small frame after a few seconds, trying to reciprocate the vice-like grip she had around me. I felt her head rest against my shoulder, and for a moment, this felt...natural. It was the same feeling as holding her hand for the first time back at the party.

“You’ll be alright. Just remember to breathe and you should make it through without a scratch,” Charlotte smiled before pulling away slowly, “but you’re making them wait, old man. C’mon.”

I missed her warmth, and I think it showed. She laughed, stepping into my space again. The sound put me at ease, so much so that I lost control of myself and glanced down at her lips. They were a velvety pink, layered in a thin veil of lip balm. From this close, I could tell it was infused with peppermint.

God, I am a sucker for anything peppermint--

No, I thought to myself, you can’t do that. You shouldn’t hurt yourself more. She doesn’t feel the same!

With great strength, I stepped away entirely. Charlotte looked confused, so I gave her a relaxed smile to show that I was okay. It was weird to have someone other than Rory to help calm me down - it was alleviating to be able to confide in someone else.

“Right, because we’re missing a cricket game. I’m devastated!” I sighed, a slight humorous twinge in my tone. I could tell she picked it up when she giggled and slipped her hand into mine.

“You are such a dork...” Charlotte teased, shaking her head and squeezing my hand reassuringly. Every time she held my hand, my heart would stop. Of course this time wasn’t an exception, but in this moment, I squeezed back.

*

*

It’d been at least fifteen minutes since Charlotte and I silently slipped into the living room. We stood very close to the exit in case I had to make a mad dash to the car.

Jim was completely oblivious to our presence before Amma discreetly took the remote off the coffee table and paused the game of cricket. My heart dropped when he looked to my mom...then, following her gaze, looked right into my eyes.

All the feelings I’d pushed down years ago - disappointment, guilt, anger, confusion - started to emerge the longer our gazes were tied. However, this seemed to be a one way street of thought. He smiled at god-awful smile at me, the same one that probably lured my mom in. Disgusting.

“Well, if it isn’t the college boy,” Jim grinned, standing and making his way over to stand in front of me and holding his fist out, “how’s it going?”

Swallowing my pride (well, er, attitude), I gave Jim a tight-lipped smile, trying to hide my grimace as I forced my fist to bump his. It was really bad acting on my part, but I don’t think he had enough of a functioning brain cell to notice.

“It’s been...going okay, I guess.” I said, willing my teeth to not grit against each other; that’d make the entire situation worse. Amma’s eyes had already caught mine over his shoulder and she had shaken her head disapprovingly at my attitude. Jim, however, was completely oblivious to the action and turned his attention to Charlotte instead.

“You must be Charlotte,” Jim said, his usual warm smile brightening and his hand extending for her to shake. It made me want to hurl. “Shruti told me that you’re one of Ajay’s friends from NYU?”

Charlotte, thankfully, was her normal kind self as she shook his hand. “That’s me! Nice to meet you, Jim. Ajay’s said nothing but good things about you.”

She caught my eye and gave the slightest wink.

“Oh! Well, that’s nice to hear. Why don’t you guys come and sit? There’s plenty of couch space to go around...”

Amma gestured to the small loveseat-like sofa on the far side of the living room, and of course, gave me her all-too-familiar teasing eyes. She really was looking to embarrass me.

Before I had the chance to retaliate, Charlotte walked over and sat politely. She waved me over, and so with a sigh, I sat next to her with a now-familiar heat in my cheeks. It wasn’t the fact that I was sitting next to her that made me coy, but rather that I was in my childhood house with a man - who wasn’t my father - now cuddling my mother. It was weird and made me beyond uncomfortable, and then add in how the girl I liked was seated right next to me...I was just a mess.

“So, um, I heard that the two of you are getting married?” Charlotte piped up after a few moments of silence. My eyes met Mo’s across the room and I could immediately tell he was tuning out of the conversation. Honestly, the idea didn’t sound so bad.

“March seventh of next year!” Amma beamed, showing off her left hand. A small ring on her ring finger sparkled in the light, and I could just feel a tsunami of hurt crash right over me. I don’t care how long it’s been since the divorce. It still hurts as much as it did a few years ago.

“That’s exciting. How has the planning been going?” Charlotte asked, trying to keep the conversation light; her voice was soft, but it was serious. It was missing her usual preppy tone, which to say, was odd.

I heard Amma talking, but I decided to tune out of the conversation.

Of course I was happy for Amma. I was glad that she found her happiness and that she could find someone else. My problem, however, was what she settled for. Jim wasn’t anything interesting. A dentist that enjoyed the outdoors and European sports - so what? Amma has always been an adventurous and bold woman, so why’d she decide on someone so...bland? My dad was an adrenaline junkie that won her heart with a simple motorcycle ride into the sunset. 

How do you go from that...to Jim? In what world does that make sense?

In my opinion, no one likes the dentist and you’d have to be crazy to go hiking by a will of choice. Mother Nature was one hell of a force to mess with, and to put your life in her unpredictable hands willingly? You’d have to be danger levels of psycho.

Plus, it didn’t help that Amma and Jim got together only a month after the divorce. It was like the crappy cake holding the crappy frosting and crappy toppings. 

I hated, and still do hate, their relationship with a burning passion.

After the thoughts and discussions of their wedding (more so the thought of my mom officially being his) the house felt stuffy. The walls looked like they were closing in on me. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

I needed to get out. Fast.

Why didn’t I stay by the door...

“...and then the venue’s gardens. Oh, they are to die for! Just div--” Amma sighed wistfully before I cleared my throat, catching everyone’s attention.

“Um, sorry to cut this whole reunion short, but Charlotte and I have some stuff to do back at school.” I said, keeping any emotion out of my voice. Amma knew me too well; she’d be able to sniff out that lie like a bloodhound if I added any sort of emotional flair.

Charlotte’s eyes scanned mine for a brief second before she nodded. “We were gonna go shopping at a store outside the city to get some dorm stuff.”

I guess she really is good at improv. Huh. Well, in any case, the white lie worked.

“Oh! Alright. Don’t let us keep you. Traffic is terrible at this time of day,” Amma rambled, quickly standing and immediately going to the kitchen. The rustling of plastic and the closing of cabinets was all I heard before she came back into the living room. “Take some of these off of our hands!”

She handed us a Tupperware container filled with some of my favorites: Italian Pizzelle cookies. Amma always had them stocked in the house for some odd reason.

“Dammit, Amma.” I said, trying my hardest not to let my smile get too big. “You give me these every single time I visit!”

Her arms wrapped around me tightly, “I do. And I want that container back, so visit soon.” Amma’s eyes flicked over to where Charlotte was, laughing along with Mohit about what I could only presume to be comics, “Oh, and bring her, too.”

“Oh my god--” I groaned in exasperation, rolling my eyes when she lightly hit me from where her hand was on my shoulder.

“I can see that look in your eye, Ajay. Don’t even bother acting like you don’t like her, it’ll be a waste of your time.”

Sigh. She has a point. 

“Instead...maybe you could make a move?” Amma whispered, pulling away and slightly angling her head in Charlotte’s direction. “I can see the same look in her eyes, too.”

Reflexively, I looked over at Charlotte again and found her staring at me. When our eyes met, she hurriedly looked away while a faint rose tinted her cheeks, her hands coming up to tighten her ponytail in almost an embarrassed manner.

Adorable.

“Okay, go,” Amma sighed, “say goodbye to Jim, otherwise those cookies aren’t leaving this house.”

With a nod and an invisible eye roll, I strolled over to Jim and held out my hand. It wasn’t my favorite thing in the world, but it was a lot better than him smushing me against his chest in a bear hug. The thought alone gave me chills.

“It was nice seeing you today, sport,” Jim said, gripping my hand firmly and shaking it, “come over again soon. We miss having you around here, especially Mohit.”

“Uh, right. Nice seeing you too, Jim.”

No, no it was not.

Before I could even step away from Jim, Mohit barreled right into me.

“You need to come over more often,” Mohit whined, “next time I see you I should crash at your dorm!”

“No, no,” I immediately responded, still returning his embrace. “I’ll be over soon, Mo. I promise.”

With that, he let go and turned to give Charlotte a hug. “See you soon, Charlotte!”

Charlotte gave a giggle, her cheeks still recovering from her blush only a few moments before. She happily returned his hug.

“See you soon, Mohit. Behave, or the comics get it.” Charlotte said before they both broke out into another fit of giggles. Jeez, maybe introducing these two was a bad idea. Wait, correction; introducing these two was a bad idea.

Now that they’d bonded and actually get along...what am I going to do?

*

*

The ride back was quiet, save for a small periodic hum from Charlotte as she watched the scenery outside the passenger window. It was a comfortable silence, but I could tell she had something on her mind.

“You’re eerily quiet,” I said softly, keeping my eyes on the road, “what’s up?”

I knew I went too far, dammit! I’m such a--

“Well, Leila texted me earlier...” Charlotte sighed. From the corner of my eye, I watched her shrink back into her seat. “She apologized and mentioned that something’s up with Skye.”

“That only took a million years.” I said, trying to make her smile. Thankfully she took it as intended and laughed lightly.

“Tell me about it. Anyway. I didn’t want to tell you back at your mom’s house. You looked...tense. I didn’t want to trouble you further.”

Tense was one word for it, for sure. Also, why is she the sweetest?

“My mom’s boyfriend, er, fiancé has never been my favorite person. He tries too hard when he talks to me, makes me feel like I’m not really welcome at home anymore.” I said, careful to not reveal too much. She does have good advice, but she’s already going through so much turmoil herself...

“That’s terrible.” Charlotte frowned, readjusting herself to sit properly in her seat. I could tell she turned towards me as she did so. “He seems nice, but you obviously have more experience with him, so why is he so bad?”

Of course she’d want to know. She was curious in that way.

“He’s a dentist, likes boring sports, enjoys the outdoors...” I grumbled, my hand mindlessly tightening on the wheel, “he took my dad’s place, though he’s just so bland and boring. It irks me.”

“Wait, so you don’t like him because he’s boring? Out of all of the qualities in a person to hate, you chose boring?” Charlotte squeaked, her voice going up an octave out of pure curiosity and slight humor. “Would you rather her date a random, stuck-up billionaire from...like...Hollywood? With a name like Blaze or Lazer, maybe even Blazer?”

“I don’t think the odds of--”

“Oh my god, Ajay, just answer the question!” Charlotte laughed. I rolled my eyes fondly and sighed. 

“Probably not.” I answered, arching a questioning eyebrow at her. “Materialistic people are usually assholes unless you schmooze them and give them opportunities to get even more money.”

“Exactly.” Charlotte smiled. “So I think Jim is an alright. It’s obvious that you don’t agree, though.”

I knew she was right. I knew I’d been cornered and that it was almost impossible to prove another opposing point. Just by this information, anyone could tell that she knew what she was doing. Was I even supposed to act annoyed? I was impressed, and I didn’t know how I could compliment her on it without coming off too strong.

Why are feelings so complicated...

Why can’t I just work up the courage--

Why did she have to be a theater kid...

“Yeah, it was that way for a while.” Was all I could say; the phrase was brief, but the sentiment was the same. I appreciated that she gave me another perspective.

It was silent after that; nothing awkward, but nothing too comfortable.

“What’s been going on with you?” I asked, willing my voice to stay steady. That sounded so awkward...

“What about?” Charlotte hummed, not seeming to notice my nerves. “Like, with Leila, or Skye, or the diner, or--”

“The diner,” I said, calmer this time, “have you heard anything?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her shake her head briefly.

“Absolutely nothing, but if I had to guess, things haven’t changed. My mom said she’d call me with updates, but I haven’t gotten any calls or texts from her in a while. It’s weird.”

I nodded, trying to focus on the road ahead. This was usually an easy task, but with Charlotte next to me, it became...almost impossible. Infuriatingly so. With Kelly, I could control this. She didn’t make me blush as much. She didn’t make me smile or laugh as much. She didn’t make me this nervous.

Just when I thought I knew what romance was, after Kelly, the rug just had to be ripped out from beneath me. This only proves how difficult life can be.

I had a high tolerance for everyday annoyances. Having a composure of steel was in a director’s job description. I had to put up with nonsense and chaos on a daily basis...but I’ve never had my patience tested quite like this.

“Now you’re too quiet.” Charlotte teased. I felt her poke my arm. “Spill.”

My eyes flitted over to check my mirrors; rear, left, right. Though, when I looked to the right, I caught Charlotte studying me intently, her eyes slightly narrowed and her lips pursed.

“I’m just thinking,” I sighed. 

About you.

“About anything interesting?”

You.

“Not really, no. Just...school.”

Liar.

*

*

We got back to Lafayette and, to me, the air felt even heavier. It was still hard to breathe, especially now that I was thinking of the visit and Charlotte. It was a deadly combo.

Even the Tupperware container of cookies in my hands felt heavy. 

“Thank you for inviting me today,” Charlotte said, slowly walking towards a staircase. I could feel her familiar warmth that’d been next to me all morning fade and immediately wished for it to come back. Though, the more I wished, the further away she ventured.

“Thank you for coming with. It was...really nice to have someone there with me.” I said, leading her to blush a bit under my gaze.

“Of course! I hope you get everything sorted out soon. In the meantime, feel free to talk with me. I’m here for you.” Charlotte grinned, sticking her hands in her pockets after she gave me a quick wave. In response, I nodded; leading her to take off. “See you later!”

“Bye,” I said quietly, though she was already too far away to hear me. She disappeared up the stairs a few moments later.

Time passed; I stood there for a good five minutes before I was bumped into from behind. God, the audacity of some people...

“Oh, sorry,” A familiar voice piped from next to me. I was adjusting my glasses on my nose when I met their eyes - her eyes - and my eyes widened in both surprise and concern.

“Skye?”

Her eyes were red and puffy. Along with that, she had a few faint, purple bruises forming just along her jawline and on the right side of her nose. Before I could find any other injuries, she looked away. I realized she was carrying a large garment bag in her arms.

“Hey, Ajay. Uh, I...gotta...go.” Skye rushed, her voice unsteady with emotion. Out of habit, I called out her name again as she made a beeline towards the same staircase Charlotte disappeared into. 

“Wait, no, Skye--”

But she was already gone, too.

*

*

It was only two in the afternoon. The couple days of freedom before classes started...and I was lying here alone, deep in thought.

Was Jim really such a bad guy? Every cell in my body screamed at me to say yes, but in the back of my mind, I found myself saying no. He made my mother happy; maybe not so much with Mohit or I, but I guess that’ll have to come with time.

Reconsidering this situation never really passed my mind. For the past three years, the sentiment of “Amma and Jim, sitting in a tree” was extremely nauseating and unnerving. I felt obligated to dislike him, just like everything else in my life. Obligation, guilt, you name it. It probably crossed my mind throughout the first couple months of their relationship.

And if Charlotte hadn’t been there, who knows what would’ve happened. Even with her there I was too scared to face the thought of their wedding.

I grumbled, rolling over to bury my face in my pillow in an attempt to hide from everything.

“Why me?” I groaned, clutching my comforter tightly in my fists. With thoughts like these, I was in for a long afternoon.

*

*

September 5th, 2020

Dear Diary...

Damn, do I have an entry for today.

Firstly. I visited Amma, Mohit, and Jim back in Brooklyn today. I’d been holding out on that trip for a while; long enough to make myself feel unwelcome with each passing day.

The trip was mediocre, to say the least. I thought it’d allow my guilty mind to feel better and focus on other things, but I guess I was wrong. I’m still pondering over the fact that I actually abandoned them for a year. So, so much happened within that time; it’s hard to comprehend, all that new information...

What does that exactly entail, you ask? Well, then. Amma and Jim are getting married in March and Mo is actually growing up. It’s crazy to think that his birthday is in a few short weeks...

This actually leads swiftly into the next topic up for discussion. Charlotte. I know that I like her. There’s no denying that anymore. I would be all for confessing and asking her out properly, but she still hasn’t decided whether or not she’s getting involved with the show. Of course, though, this is completely reasonable - I’m not someone to tell her to rush her decisions or pressure her into something she doesn’t want - but at the same time, I want to know now instead of later. I need to prepare myself for what I’d face.

I’m almost to the point where I’m tired of waiting. I want to tell her how I feel, now that I know how to put my emotions into words. There were so many times today where she’d make me lose my focus. Make me nervous. Make me do all these uncharacteristic things that, in my opinion, would scare the hell out of people who know me for...me (AKA as a strict and uptight director and, sometimes, an emotionless blob).

If only theater wasn’t a thing. Then I’d actually have a fair chance. I try to tell my stupid brain that she isn’t like Kelly. I want to get over that fear; it’s piteous in a way that makes me second guess myself. My problem, though, is that I don’t know how.

Alright. My hand is starting to cramp. I’ll give updates as they come, but don’t expect anything grand. I want to have hope, but that’s pretty hard with all of my experiences with romance.

Ajay

#high school story class act #ajay bhandari #mc: charlotte parker #oc: leila maciel #skye crandall #ajay x mc #skye x oc #warning: mentions of divorce and minor injuries #chapter eight! 🥳

[illshowyourhurricanes]

In The Line Of Fire (Part 3)

Taking a break from requested drabbles for today to bring y’all the finale of this three-part series, brought to you from this prompt by sarahseleckywritingschool on Instagram. In part one, we saw Billy at Arthur’s place, and in part 2 we got a glimpse of seeing things through Ryan’s eyes (and get a glimpse into his mind). This is my first real foray into writing for Logan, and it is a doozy. He’s a beautifully written, complex character and I hope I did him and his story some justice. Parts one and two can be found in my masterlist. Please let me know what you think, I’m anxious about this one!

Trigger warning: mentions of / drug use and angst. All the angst.

Rating: R

Word count: 1649

Tag list: @obscurilicious @the-blind-assassin-12 @something-tofightfor @logan-deloss @lexxierave @madamrogers @yannii04 @gollyderek @carlaangel86 @bicevans @maydayfigment @thisisparadisemylove @delos-destinations @malionnes @thesandbeneathmytoes @crushed-pink-petals-writes

If anyone would like to be added to or removed from my tag list, please just send an ask!

Hugest of the huge special thanks fot @the-blind-assassin-12​ for encouraging and convincing me an infinite amount of times to actually write this.

The orange flame coming from the light blue lighter Logan held in his large hand reflected in his dark, glossy eyes. Leaning back in his chair, his feet crossed at the ankles and propped up onto his solid wood Scarborough desk, his gaze rose to land on the small baggie of white powder lying just to the right of his feet. Logan Delos was deep into his latest relapse, back off the straight and narrow illusion of a filthy rich, capable, responsible mother fucker and heir of a multi-million dollar empire. No, Logan had hopped onto another wagon, one that took him to places nothing or no one else could touch. He was in love with what it did to him, the instant rush of euphoria, being on top of the fucking world with his ego swelling with confidence and purpose—the rush followed by the numbing of the bullshit and the descent into the reprieve of the constant buzzing in his brain. A warmth spread through his veins and he knew that he was Logan Delos: untouchable, desirable, anything he could ever wish for right there at his fingertips for the taking. 

He was Logan Delos, a man that others chased and craved like he chased and craved the drug there at his feet. A fuck, a needle, sleep, repeat; Logan lived a lavish, hedonistic lifestyle and he was in control; he decided when he’d do the drugs, how much he’d indulge in how often. He decided. 

That point in his life had passed. Logan was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar, not even to himself. He was a failure, a junkie, the regrettable piece of shit his father had no qualms reminding him of. Here you are, Jim. Take a look at your son. 

Logan’s lip curled in disgust at the mere thought of his father, and the only reason he let himself think of that wretched bastard as his father was strictly biological. He had never and would never be a “dad”; he didn’t have the capacity. “You’re a disappointment,” he muttered, words James Delos had directed toward Logan so many times, he should be desensitized by now. Should be. “You’re a piece of shit, Logan. This company will never be yours. You’re a junkie.”

A junkie. Logan flicked the light blue, plastic Bic lighter on, lifting his thumb seconds later and extinguishing the flame. He was mesmerized by the immediate lighting and extinguishing of the flame, allowing himself to get lost in the simplicity and complexity of creating fire with one finger. The spoon he used for cooking the powder down into a liquid was right there by the baggie Logan was considering. Fuck it, he thought, and he tossed the lighter onto his desk carelessly, feet hitting the floor and propelling his chair closer toward the table. 

One large hand scooped up both the baggie and silver spoon— Logan relished in the fact that one of Jim’s overly expensive, custom made silver spoons was a constant in his heroin kit— a whisky tumbler half-filled with days’ old water, and a hypodermic needle. Leaning down closer to the desk’s mahogany surface, the baggie was unzipped, spoon perched between his thin and index finger on the ready. The tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth in concentration, he tapped the plastic bag until he was satisfied with the amount of white powder that spilled out into his spoon. Baggie set aside, traded out for the needle, he drew up a small amount of water, slowly filling the spoon, the remaining water shot out into the garbage can kept under his desk. 

He needed that lighter again, and he carefully reached for the spot it had landed when he’d tossed it, the far corner of his desk. He balanced the spoon precariously as he retrieved the lighter and an expression of arrogance and pride passed over his features, vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared. Logan was ritualistic in the way he used heroin, and preparing it was a big part of that. This was one of those times Logan preferred not to experience; his craving had turned into a need, an essential substance with a vice so strong, it brought with it an overwhelming anxiety. His hand trembled as he held the lighter beneath the spoon. His palms were damp with sweat; he was agitated and his arm itches like he’d been covered in fire ants. The Delos estate could have been on fire and Logan would remain sitting with the task at hand. Nothing else mattered. 

Finally, the heroin was liquified. Eagerly, he dipped the tip of his needle into the shallow solution, slowly drawing the drug into the syringe. He dropped the spoon with a clatter, turned the needle point upward and tapped on the side of the syringe. Tiny air bubbles appeared atop the solution and Logan slowly, carefully, tediously applied pressure to the plunger until a drop of the solution dripped from the needle. Any air had been evacuated. It was time. 

Logan was shaking, both from anticipation and need. Small beads of sweat were beginning to appear at his brow. With his sacred drug—his lifeline— he pushed his desk chair back, standing and taking long strides to reach the other side of his expansive bedroom. 

He didn’t even pause as he flipped the light switch to illuminate his walk-in closet, full of expensive designer casual wear, but mostly with suits— Brioni and Gucci, Tom Ford and Burberry. Neat rows of impeccable shoes were lined up perfectly by shade and style. But Logan noticed none of this. He had tunnel vision, and  he went straight for his tie rack. He needed a silk tie, easy to knot yet strong enough that it wouldn’t break while serving its purpose. 

Snatching a tie he knew would do the trick, he allowed it to unroll itself as he left his closet. Holding the capped syringe between his teeth, he used both hands to hold each end of the necktie to his upper arm, at the halfway point of his elbow and bicep. Deftly, he knotted it around  his arm securely, but with enough give to unknot easily when it was time. An authentic Stefano Ricci, Jim. 100% silk. Easily over $1500. Your junkie, ticking time bomb, fucking failure of a son doesn’t skimp on the details: designer ties as tourniquets to shoot up his pure, white heroin. Only the best for a Delos. Right, dear old dad?

He felt his lip curl in disgust as he sat back in his chair, syringe still held between two rows of perfectly straight, startlingly white teeth. Pumping his left fist several times over— open and squeeze, open and squeeze— he watched as his skin below the tourniquet began to discolor. With two long fingers of his right hand, he struck his forearm several times, barely noticing the very visible track marks at the crook of his elbow, the newer one that was halfway up the inside of his forearm. He was looking for a vein. 

Bingo.  

There it was, popped out and bulging, an inch below the crook of his elbow, a long patch of skin free of any track marks or puncture wounds. Not for long. His teeth gave way as he reached for the waiting syringe holding the one thing in his life that gave Logan back the love he felt for it. If— when— it killed him, he’d die feeling un-fucking-touchable. His only regret would be missing the opportunity of Jim Delos’ horrendous smile at the sight of his only son’s corpse. 

It was miraculous the way Logan could manage to steady his shaking to inject. He bit at the orange cap over the needle, spitting it off to the side. Holding the syringe precariously like a cigarette between forefinger and middle finger, he dipped his head to hold a dangling part of his tie between his teeth, just as he had the needle. 

With one sting of the needle puncturing his pale skin, Logan yanked his head back, the loose knot he’d tied in his RIcci necktie unraveling and falling away. It was a deep red, the color of ox blood, and a bitter laugh escaped from low in his throat. And then, Logan pushed the plunger. 

By the time he finished and tossed the used needle and syringe to the side, Logan was only able to lick the residual drop of blood from his arm when the rush began. There was the familiar warmth coursing along with the circulation of his blood, from the core of his body down into the tips of his toes and fingers. Without a warning, Logan felt and indescribable euphoria that nothing could hold a candle to, not even an almost violent orgasm causing his entire body to quake. 

Heroin was a paradox. With the euphoria came a sense of calm and a heaviness of his body. With the pleasure would come the pain. Everything eventually collided, but Logan relished in the crash. He needed it, and he accepted that. The only thing he could rely on was something that would never refuse him what he sought out. The only thing that wouldn’t pulverize his heart and his pride, wound him with a hole too deep to heal. 

The heaviness and calm gave way to any sense of strength, Logan’s head falling back and rolling from side to side at the back of his leather desk chair until it fell slightly to the right. He was unable to keep his eyes from closing, long hair falling over his forehead as he nodded. An amalgamation of jumbled, broken thoughts floated through his mind, past the fog of disorientation that would inevitably fade into sleep: Wrong… this is the wrong door.. where’s the fucking.. it’s the wrong world. This is all an illusion. 

#in the line of fire #part 3 #itlof3 #logan delos #tw: drug use #my writing

[thegreenfairy13]

No Country For Heroes (Part 9)

Read the full story here.

Notes: Yes, you have seen this post before! But as @whomerlockwood pointed out, the ending of my fic came too sudden so I took it down.Sorry for the resulting inconvenience. But then I love writing this story so much I’m actually glad I can keep working on it (so there will be one or two more chapters after this). 

Plot: the GCPD turns Jim in for Oswald’s protection. He takes the opportunity to bend the detective to his will. Features torture, mind control and dub con. Originally written for the prompt ‘beg’ by the wonderful @justsimplymeagain who always encourages me <3! Also, a special thanks to @one-eyed-bossman as well! 

And Finally the 9th chapter:

Oswald doesn’t react the way Jim expects him to. He was prepared for rage, violence, not a moment of quiet consideration. The mobster smirks, almost sadly, before sitting down next to the former cop.

“James?” he asks softly while reaching for his hand. Jim wants to jerk away from his touch but once he feels those long fingers wrapped around him, he goes limp. He thinks he should feel fear and desperation - he only feels numb and docile. Jim’s aware of his bravado being nothing more than a fleeting spark at this point. There’s not much fight left in this weakened body, or in his exhausted mind. His prior words, though spoken with vigor, lack conviction. Oswald probably knows, too.

The Penguin can hardly hide the victorious little gleam in his eyes. It would be easy for him to overpower Jim, to hurt him for his rashness.

“Naked and humiliated,” Oswald states, almost reverently, as he presses his other hand over Jim’s heart. His touch feels hot on his skin, and the detective wonders why it doesn’t hurt. “I have to admit, I admire you,” he whispers. “You’re barely hanging on, but there’s still so much anger in you.” Leaning in, he kisses Jim’s knuckles.

The blonde stiffens, breath caught in his throat.

“That is what you want, isn’t it?” he carries on. “To fight until your last breath, remain proud and strong even when you’re already down, broken, and bleeding.”

Jim grits his teeth, can’t contain the angry snarl about to escape his mouth.

The mobster is unfazed though, only studies him with a mildly bemused expression.

“Let me go!” he hisses when Oswald’s hold tightens. He’s so sick of their dance, yet he can’t seem to stop it. Not in the past, not now. Cause this is what they have been doing for years, isn’t it? Getting close while desperately trying to get away from each other. At least it is was Jim has been doing.

The smaller man shakes his head solemnly, purses his lips. “And then what?” he asks back. “The moment you’d walk outta here, they’d put a bullet in your head,” he states, shuddering in disgust. “They made you responsible for the mess we’re in,” he reminds Jim, smiling compassionately. It sounds wrong though, as if he was mocking the cop.

Jim finally pulls his hand free, only to regret it immediately. Without the distraction of Oswald’s touch, he can’t keep his fingers from trembling. He raises his hands, lets them fall back into his lap. “Then let them,” he whispers, barely audible.

Closing his eyes, the Penguin stretches beside him languidly. “I should have known breaking you would be different,” he mutters. “It’s such a sweet task,” he adds, smiling innocently. Lazily, he covers his eyes with one arm, gets comfortable. The way he acts doesn’t indicate Jim only moments ago threatened to take him down. If there was truly some fight left in Gotham’s knight, he’d choke the life out of the gangster. Yet even now, he can’t. The thought doesn’t cross his mind even though it would be the most reasonable thing to do. If he’d murder his torturer, the worst that would happen would be his own death.

Instead, he mulls Oswald’s words over and over in his head, tries to decipher their meaning. Turning his head, he stares down at the Penguin’s unfazed form. He can barely get his words out as the panic slowly catches up with his brain.

Everything up until know only served to stall for time. Once the mobster gets up, once he pulls him from the room and across the hallway, he’ll be chanceless, give in, become Oswald’s puppet, his zombie - of that he’s certain.

“Why aren’t you granting me the mercy you gave this other man?” he blurts out. “One blow and it was all done,” he chokes out, thinking about the blood coating the floor only mere minutes ago.

Oswald removes his arm from his eyes and sits up. Biting his lips, he reaches out. Cupping Jim’s face between his palms he asks, “How could you ever ask me to murder you? You of all people?” The Penguin blinks back tears as he speaks, his voice is so hoarse he can hardly get his words out.

“But,” Jim protests, and at last, the long-awaited slap paints his cheeks red.

“But how dare you comparing yourself to this worthless thug!” Oswald hollers, all but jumping from the bed.

Frantically, he starts pacing the room, dragging his bad leg behind him, even pulling at his perfectly-styled hair - it’s something Jim has never seen him do before.

Spinning on his heels, he attacks, pins Jim down once more with his entire weight, eyes glistening feverishly. It takes him almost no effort to overpower the other man.

Taking a moment, he listens to the cop’s frantic heartbeat before he starts laughing. It’s a crazed sound, almost maniacal, animalistic. It subsides, eventually, until it’s nothing more but a slight sob.

“I’d hate to put you through another round,” he finally confesses. “We’re close, so close,” he gushes. “If you’d only see !”

“See what?” Jim snaps back, trying fruitlessly to fend off the mobster restraining him.

“What you really want !” Oswald screams, clearly exasperated. “Of all the things I showed you, what did you learn? What did you see?”

Jim struggles in the gangster’s unyielding grasp, bucks against the weight holding him down, yet achieves nothing. He’s powerless beneath the murderer, unable to help himself.

“Let me go!” Jim tries again. “Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.” He barely registers the moisture coating his face.

“And then what?” Oswald challenges, not relaxing his grip. “Then what? My death? Your death? Leave Gotham and live a normal life with a family of your own? Two kids and picket-fence? What, James, what?”

The cops stills, lets his head fall back against the pillows. Panting heavily, he stares into two orbs of green. Oswald looks as broken as he feels.

“You want freedom,” he reminds him. “But what would you do with it?” he asks, emphasizing his point by patting Jim’s nose lightly.

Jim snaps.

It’s this tiny bit of hope that Oswald keeps wielding in front of his nose, like a carrot, that infuriates him, fills his heart with rage. “Kill you!” he spits. “Put a bullet in your head, put a bullet in anyone’s head who deserves it, who pushed this city to the brink of destruction, who destroyed the souls and hearts of people like Barbara, and Lee, and...” his voice breaks off as he hears himself speak it out loud, horrified by the realization how badly he wants it, to just let go, to choke the life out of everyone who keeps dragging this city down with them, who keeps maiming and killing the innocent and the guilty and everyone in between. Jim wants this to end, to start all over, to be who he used to be.

Oswald, in turn, lets go of him. “And?” he inquires softly.

Jim inhales through his nose, tries to get his heartbeat under control. He’s back under Tetch’s spell, is fighting against this urge to simply destroy the madness that has befallen everyone around him, to just run off with nothing but a loaded gun and his determination.

He can’t let Oswald have this victory, can’t allow for him to set his inner demons free. He must not succeed where Tech failed.

“But I won’t,” Jim finishes stubbornly.

“But how else could you save this city?” the Penguin presses. Judging by the way he looks at Jim, he thinks Oswald knows how badly he just wants to give in. The blonde huffs out a laugh. Of course, he knows. He had been in his head.

The pressure on his chest increases when he doesn’t answer. Jim opens and closes his mouth, tries gasping for air, but it’s to no avail. Everything hurts and he’s about to lose his sanity, the part that ultimately defines James Gordon.

Leaning in, Oswald lovingly brushes a strand of sweat-sodden hair from his forehead. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to just let go?” he whispers. “To do what I’m doing? This man, this thug... didn’t I merely serve justice when killing him for suggesting he rape you?”

Oswald’s shoulders sag and finally, he lets go off Jim. “You gave your all to make Gotham a better place, but where did it lead you? The moment you had your pathetic little victories, you would go and betray me, time and time and time again…”

“But you always knew that!” Jim interrupts frantically. “You always knew how I’d act, what I’d do!” he hollers. His head is swimming, hurting. They had this conversation before, hadn’t they? “You knew me,” Jim challenges, pressing his fist against his eye-sockets. The light is blinding once the pain is back, once everything starts throbbing anew. “You knew I’d try being good whenever I had the chance, to abide by the law.” His voice breaks off when the headache overtakes every rational thought.”

“Blaming the victim,” Oswald tzks. Pursing his lips, he agrees, though.  “That’s right, I know you,” he admits bitterly. “That’s why I knew I could do this ,” he confesses softly.

Jim’s head snaps up at those words. Belatedly, he realizes how in everything the mobster says and does since Jim arrived, there’s a clue hidden, a hint he can’t grasp.

Extending his arms, Oswald gestures at both of them. “It took me a while to understand it. And when you shot me, I got so angry.” His voice cracks slightly. Leaning over, he grabs a fistful of the blond’s hair. Tilting Jim’s head back, he murmurs, “It took me a while to understand,” he grouses. “ I’m truly your exception, ain’t I? You’d never go for my blood, not really, would you?” he urges and Jim slumps again.

“Why state the obvious?” he snaps back, tilting his chin defiantly, even when he’s shaking with fear.

“Why do you want to stop me?” Oswald presses.

He reaches for Jim, shakes him slightly, before climbing back into his lap as if he belonged there. Despite himself, Jim catches his slender waist, presses him close. One hand tangled in the criminal’s hair, he starts rocking him as if he was truly his lover.

If this warmth, this touch right here will be the last display of affection he’ll ever receive, he’ll soak it up. Besides, it was true. He does love, or maybe did love, Oswald. His lenience with the gangster had always been controlled by his emotions, by a desire to rather see him free than bound. Or by utter madness.

He is, after all, everything that is wrong with this city. He’s greedy, selfish, violent, ruthless. But he’s also driven, full of determination, and powerful. Jim should have shot him as Harvey commanded him to do so. Yet, he can’t even hurt him now. It’s ridiculous.

Jim looks up, takes in the slender frame, the pointed nose, those sharp eyes. Oswald is beautiful. And he tore Jim apart, violated him in ways he can’t even begin to comprehend.  The cop doesn’t know why he needs to haul him into a brutal kiss, only registers what he’s doing when he tastes copper. It’s his time now, to draw blood from the monstrous man that clings to him, that seemingly fragile being.

Jim thinks again how he should break his delicate neck now, end this misery, save himself and the city all the pain the Penguin is inevitably about to bring down upon them.

“You’ll lose your empire again,” Jim threatens between kisses. Oswald merely shrugs, wraps his arms around him like a vice in response. “Comes and goes,” he states. “I always get it back, eventually.”

Jim accepts the statement easily, it’s true. Maybe not even death could stop him, not in a city like this. Prison definitely couldn’t. His hold on the other man tightens.

“What do you really want?” Oswald asks him again, and Jim stills, stops working on the buttons separating him from the warmth and touch he craves in his wrecked state of mind. He wants him gone from power so much, and all the others like him. And he just wants him , too.

“I should kill you,” he pants, even as he slides the belt from his waist. Oswald nods in agreement.

Oswald chuckles in response. “The fire,” he states, biting his lip flirtatiously. Oswald hooks his arms around Jim’s waist, pulling him easily with him. “You truly can’t stop poking the bear, can you?” he asks appreciatively.

Belatedly, Jim realizes how he’s being maneuvered towards the hallway again.

“You should put something on,” the Penguin notes, winking seductively when Jim finally realizes that he’s still naked. The cop blushes.

“There’s really nothing to be ashamed about,” Oswald laughs as he traces the blonde's perfectly defined abs. “I’d just rather keep you to myself,” he adds, tilting his head.

Leaning back against the door, he offers his neck for Jim to press a kiss against his jugular. “It’s such a shame,” he sighs. “Shame, shame, shame,” he mumbles while running his fingers through Jim’s hair. In his insanity, the cop thinks to indulge Oswad’s desires might save him after all, tries forgetting what is at stake.

Oswald smiles affectionately at him. “How come I can have you but will never be able to keep you?”

Pulling back, the cop looks down at the other man. “Is this one of Edward’s riddles?” he wonders out loud before his brain catches up with him again and the fear slams back into his body with the force of a freight train.

“But I do love you,” Jim tries to bargain.

“I know,” Oswald replies as he wraps his arms around Jim once more. “But we both know that would never be enough, don’t we?” Drawing patterns into his skin, Oswald pulls him against the door. “What is that worth if we can never be together?” he asks when Jim starts mutely crying against his shoulder.

His legs give out beneath him. Bonelessly, he slides down to the floor until he’s at the Penguin’s feet. All Jim can focus on is a pair of shiny shoes. Reaching for Oswald’s ankles, he starts sobbing without restraint. “Please don’t,” he begs, knowing full well how futile it is.

“I can’t turn back now,” Oswald replies, almost apologetically. “Just once more,” he consoles, patting Jim’s head. “And the pain will stop and you’ll have everything you could have ever wish for,” he vows.

This time, Jim follows him down the hallway without kicking and screaming.

#gobblepot #fanfiction #Jim Gordon #Oswald Cobblepot

[hecohansen31]

I need more soulmate foursome please please please ! Like, yes they love her, yes she is Duncans soulmate, but they have known each other for so long, shared so many things, they all have famillies issues, so sometimes, she's a bit sad and jealous to see the deep connection they have, feeling excluded (even if the boys are not doing it on purpose)

WARNINGS: General Angst, Jealousy, Problematic Relationship

It wasn’t jealousy anymore.

You had never been jealous of Duncan’s previous lovers, because you had always thought that you weren’t worthy of them, or at least they had made you feel like that, at the start and then once you had gotten to know them better, you had learned to love them.

So, you didn’t hold any bad feelings in your heart, you just didn’t have space for that.

But still… you couldn’t help but be hurt by the way the guys would all form their own little group focused on their shared trauma, leaving you out either because ‘you wouldn’t understand’ or they didn’t want you ‘to go through what they had been’.

You had always replied that it wasn’t going through what they had been, but ‘helping them carry part of the pain’, which would help you ‘understanding them better’.

But it was always a door being slammed in your face…

… also, physically.

Like that night: Jim had woken up from a nightmare, sweating through his pajama shirt and moving crazily around the bed, till it woke you.

Michael was still fast asleep and Duncan hadn’t come home that night since he had some rather busy things to do at his office, and the previous night you had fallen asleep all been cuddled up together, so it was your turn to try to calm down Jim, who you woke up slowly and gently, trying to ease the harsh emotion of the dream out of his body.

But when he woke up, he was in an harsher frenzy than the one he had in his sleep, and when you tried to brush a strand of wet hair away from his face, he grabbed your hand with a tight grip that hurt you, making you moan out in pain, enough that Michael woke up.

He proceeded to rush to a scared Jim, meanwhile you tried to ease the pain away from your wrist, trying to talk Jim down from that awful nightmare, but having no effect since he wasn’t feeling, honesty making you feel completely and utterly…

… useless.

Michael quickly came to him, pushing him in a hug, the skin on skin contact effectively helping him settling the reality of the nightmare apart from the true reality of Michael’s warm arms, who smirked softly, cooing in the boy’s ear, sweet words or encouragement.

‘Everything is going to be alright’ he mumbled, the same thing you had tried to calm down Jimmy with, but he was rather effective since Jimmy gently pushed himself in a rather relaxed position, meanwhile Michael adjusted the hug.

You couldn’t help but feel like an intruder, even more when Jim seemed to finally calm down, and you had nothing to do with that.

You slipped off the bed, being careful at not disrupting that peaceful moment.

You slept on the couch that night, mostly after Michael went to shut the door of their shared bedroom, effectively locking you out of your lovers’ secrets.

Your brain that night conjured the worst thoughts in that constant fear, that wasn’t jealousy, but made you wonder whether you were truly needed there.

Maybe Duncan would cry for you, but he had gone so far with only his lovers.

He wouldn’t miss you, if you chose to leave.

Or if they ever felt like they didn’t need you.

Hence when morning had come, you had decided to go on a run to clear your mind, completely forgetting about breakfast and anything that mattered, not even giving the ‘goodmorning’ to the boys, but you honestly felt like you couldn’t face them right now.

Seeing them all tangled up and sleeping so peacefully without you would have hit deep in your gut.

You just run till your legs burned and your stomach churned loudly enough that you didn’t feel like going back home for breakfast but stopped at the first local diner you found and got something to eat, eventually walking back home.

You were thinking about getting a quick shower and then go in town, either to meet up a friend or to go in the shopping center alone to do some Christmas shopping and clear your mind from what had happened last night.

But as you walked in the house, sure that Michael and Jim would be still snuggled, you actually found them both onto the couch, definitely not cuddling and definitely worried.

You were able to spy a bit of the conversation they were having, before they realized you were standing on the threshold.

‘Do you think she is gone, again?’.

‘She hasn’t picked up the luggage this time…’.

And as you accidentally stumbled in the ‘welcoming mat’, all their eyes were set upon you.

“Hey” simply mumbled Jim, trying to go for a small smirk, but you just waved with your hand before you went to hide in the shower, hoping that there you would have a bit of time to yourself, to think about what they were talking, before you came in

Had they thought you had left again?

Why would they think such a thing?

You had just showered with love.

When you went down, Michael was trying to make pancakes, meanwhile Jim fidgeted nervously with his fingers, quickly taking in your elegant clothing, since you would be soon having your own Christmas shopping spree.

In fact Violet, one of your friends had said she would be more than happy to make you some company, for quite some time.

“Are you going out?” Jim mumbled, trying to avoid looking at you directly, meanwhile Michael looked at you from his side-eye, the entire situation making you feel slightly uncomfortable, since you were suddenly the focus of their attention.

Unlike the previous night.

“… some last shopping gifts to make, and Violet said that it has been too much time since we last saw each other”.

They both nodded, but it was more a mechanical gesture than an actual sign of understanding.

“Well, at least we can spend breakfast together” Jimmy tried to brighten the meek situation, but it hadn’t worked since you had just shook your head saying that you had already eaten breakfast and were meeting in fifteen minutes with Violet “… but you can have second breakfast, like hobbits…?”.

Jim’s try had made you laugh, but you simply shook your head and this time Michael had intervened.

“Is there something wrong, (Y/N)?” his tone was downright accusing and it heightened the rage you had in your soul “… you went out and didn’t tell us where you went”.

“Oh I am sorry I didn’t know that I had to actually tell you where I went, I, an adult” you retorted, meanwhile you held his stare, seeing the hit finally landing on its mark, and Michael looking at you hurt, as Jim moved, as always, to quell whatever was going between you and Michael.

“We were just worried, (Y/N)…” mumbled Jimmy, sending you a reassuring look “… I just thought that you would run away again…”.

“Maybe I should” the affirmation wasn’t serious and you didn’t believe it in your heart, but it still got a devastating effect on both of your lovers who looked at you as if you had just stabbed a knife through their heart “… you obviously don’t need me, hence… I don’t see why I should be staying, I’ll finally let you have Duncan all for yourselves again!”.

Silence hit the house and, although Jimmy looked like he was close to crying, Michael looked at you with burning rage before retorting back.

“Then why don’t you run away? You are at least good at that”.

And you did, grabbing the keys of your car from the little table on the threshold, hastily fastening your coat over your body, before you slammed the door behind your body.

So, that they wouldn’t see your tears.

Michael immediately regretted the words he had spoken out.

Jim looked at him shocked and before he knew it, he felt the boy punching him against his chest.

“What the fuck, Michael?!” screamed the younger boy, meanwhile he tried not to focus on the pain in his chest, the one because of you leaving, not because of Jim’s punch “… you just made her ran away!”.

“I…” he didn’t know why he had done it, maybe because he wasn’t used to having to fight with you, since you never picked a fight with him.

Maybe it was also the true fear of losing you again.

The previous night, although you had moved so slowly that you hadn’t made a noise, Michael had still understood that you were hurt by Jim’s rejection: he had hoped you could talk in the morning, but he hadn’t found you.

He had thought it was just time before you seriously run away because they were just too fucked up for an angel like you.

But still some part of him had been disappointed by the fact that you hadn’t fulfilled the promise of being constantly by their side.

Hence the anger.

“Shit shit shit!” mumbled Jim, completely panicking, meanwhile apathy overtook Michael as he crouched down the onto the kitchen tile “… we need Duncan”.

No, they fucking needed you, right now.

#michael langdon #jim mason #duncan shepherd #michael langdon reader #jim mason reader #duncan shepherd reader #michael langdon fic #jim mason fic #duncan shepherd fic #house of cards #american horror story #the tribes of palos verdes

[missaudreyhorney]

Little Magnum

Anon requested the idea of adopting a puppy with Jim Hopper and who am I to say no to something so fluffy and adorable? Major help was provided by chiefharbour here on Tumblr, plus harboursouce and hideloveaway on Instagram.  

1.9k words of self-indulgent silliness and mentions of other ST characters. 

Your friend’s dog escaped from her yard about 5 months ago and had herself a wild night on the town, getting pregnant with a litter of mixed-breed puppies. Most of them had been given out to different families but there was one pup left, a little boy with white patches on his honey-colored fur. El had subtly mentioned to you that she’d never had a pet before and you wanted so badly to get her one, as it would make her time alone at the cabin a lot less boring and isolating. There was just one last obstacle and his name was Jim Hopper.

Since he speaks very little about his childhood, you had no idea if Hopper ever had a dog before, or even any type of pet at all. Based upon the little he has told you, it was easy to assume that if he ever had a dog, it was strictly for hunting and probably slept outside or in a shed. That’s not the way you grew up though. You’ve always had pets and they’ve always been like family to you. You knew it was going to be hard to sell him on the idea of getting a puppy, but that’s why you had your strategy well planned out. All you had to do was tell Hop that the two of you were going to visit a friend of yours and once he saw the dog himself, he wouldn’t need much convincing.

On a Friday after work, he picked you up and drove you over to Jill’s house. As Hopper entered her living room, his eyes immediately went to the dog. He walked over to it and crouched down onto one knee. “What’s up, little guy?” he said, letting it smell his hand before he pet it. The puppy lavished the back of his hand with endless licks, causing Hopper to chuckle. This was easily the happiest you’d seen him in weeks, if not months. Within the first thirty seconds of him interacting with the dog, you could already sense a connection being made. He talked to it in a tone of voice that you’d never heard before. “You got sharp little teeth, don’t ya, boy?” The puppy rolled onto it’s back and Hopper rubbed its belly. “Yes, you do! Yes, you do.” You clamped your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from giggling. This was the first time you’d ever seen him act this way.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” you asked. “Yeah, he’s adorable. How old is he?” “Nine weeks,” Jill answered. “You’re just a baby, huh?” Hopper cooed at the dog while you and Jill exchanged a knowing look. “The vet said that’s a perfect age for them to find a new home.” He didn’t react, he just kept playing with the puppy. “You hear that, Hop?” “Yeah...” he answered slowly.

All the humor and happiness drained from his face as he connected the dots. “No,” he replied simply. “What do you mean? ‘No’ what?” you feigned ignorance. “Absolutely not,” he continued with a stern expression. You glanced over at Jill on the couch as she drank her Tab and minded her own business.  

“Can you excuse us?’ Hopper asked in his most charming voice. “We’re just gonna go outside for a minute.” Jill nodded, “Sure thing, hon.” The two of you left and stood on her porch. Smiling up at him expectantly, you took one of his hands in yours. “We’re not getting a dog,” he told you flatly, “especially not a puppy.” Your shoulders drooped with disappointment. “Why not?” you whined. “Because I said so,” he stated calmly. “That’s not fair,” you whined again.

“I don’t care if it’s fair. I work long hours, and when I get home, I need to be able to relax. I don’t have time to be chasing after a little dog, making sure it’s not chewing everything up.”

“Come on, Hop,” you pleaded, “I promise I’ll take care of it. You’ll still be able to relax.” You held both of his hands in yours. “Dogs are a man’s best friend, remember? You can do some male bonding together. He’ll be like the son you never had.” Hopper rolled his eyes at you dramatically, knowing you were laying it on extra thick to persuade him.

“What about El? I’ve never seen her interact with a dog, what if she’s scared of them?” “She’s fine with it,” you said matter of factly. “What do you mean ‘she’s fine with it’? How do you know?” his voice went up with a tinge of anger. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her we’re getting a dog. She just dropped a few hints to me before about not having a pet, so when Trixie got pregnant, I asked El what she thought about dogs and she told me she got along great with Will’s before it ran away.” You regretted saying those words as soon as they escaped your mouth. He wasn’t supposed to know that this was a setup.

Hopper took a step forward, his body closer to yours, his beautiful blue eyes glared down at you. “You little brat,” he scolded playfully, “you planned this all behind my back, didn’t you?” You pressed your top and bottom lips together tightly to suppress a smile. “You probably already have a name picked too.” You burst into a fit of giggles. “Magnum,” you declared. “Magnum,” he repeated with a chuckle and scrubbed his large hand over his face.

Determined and unfazed, you continued your pitch. “I wish you could have seen yourself in there. The way your face lit up. Can you imagine the look on El’s face if we bring home this puppy? Can you imagine how happy and surprised she’ll be?”

He gave a heavy sigh as a slow smile spread across his rugged features. “Alright,” Hopper said decisively. ”Let’s go back inside and get Magnum P-U-P.” You ignored his terrible dad joke like you often do. “Really? Are you sure?” you inquired as he opened the screen door. “I think my mind’s already been made up for me,” he replied. “You’re right. It has,” you stood on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek before you entered the house again.

As soon as the door opened, the dog ran to him and he scooped it up into his arms. “Guess what, little guy? You’re coming home with us.” The puppy licked Hopper’s face, almost appreciatively as if it understood what was going on. You couldn’t have been any happier if you tried. As the vigorous licking continued, he scrunched up his face. “Okay, that’s enough,” Hopper laughed then handed you the dog.

“I’m so glad you’re taking the little terror off my hands,” Jill joked as she gave half a bag of puppy food to Hop. He shot you a regretful look that you pretended to ignore. “We’re glad too, aren’t we?” you suggested and he rolled his eyes at you. “Yes,” he answered, his look of annoyance fading into a genuine smile. The three of you left in the Blazer and drove straight to the feed store to get a collar, leash, and new bag of puppy food.

In the month that has passed since then, things have been somewhat chaotic, with Magnum living up to his reputation as a terror. Every other word out of Hopper’s mouth seems to be “Magnum!” as he is constantly reprimanding the dog for something or other. Usually for tinkling in the house, as all puppies his age do. You’ve basically having to train them both; the dog to go outside, and Hop to take him out on the leash instead of letting him just roam around the woods by himself.

The puppy barks his tiny head off whenever Mike comes over, growling and even biting the boy if he tries to pet him. It’s the only bad behavior that Hopper actively encourages from the dog. Other than the unexplained animosity towards her boyfriend, El and Magnum get along swimmingly, with him being at his most calm when he’s around her, frequently sitting on her lap as they watch tv together. It’s probably because of the bacon you’ve caught her slipping to him during breakfast.

One of Magnum’s worst habits is that he’s a sock thief. Not just any socks though, they have to be Hopper’s. He ignores any that belong to you or El, as if he’s a sock connoisseur and those just aren’t up to snuff. You’ve found them hidden all over the cabin, though they’re most often under the bed or in between the couch cushions. While he is content with stealing them off the floor, his favorite method of theft is to take them directly off of Hopper’s feet. He bites the end and shakes his little head back and forth until they’re wiggled and yanked all the way off. Sometimes Hop gets mad, especially when the puppy accidentally nips his toes, but a lot of the time he allows it to happen because it’s just so stinking cute to watch.

For as much as Hopper complains about the dog, you know it’s just a facade. You keep finding empty bags of treats on the counter. On multiple occasions, you have arrived home to see that he’s been given a new chew toy. You’ve come across Polaroids not only of Magnum by himself, usually in those seemingly rare moments of slumber, but also of Hopper holding the puppy on his shoulder. The last time you were at the station, you caught him showing some of them to Flo as if they were baby pictures. The thing that truly cemented his love for the dog was the sight you discovered tonight.

You having to work on the weekend and El spending all day at the Wheeler’s house left Hop and Magnum alone by themselves. When your shift is over, you almost dread going back to the cabin, having no idea what type of disaster you’re going to be coming home to. As you unlock the front door, it’s eerily quiet inside, so quiet that it causes you to become concerned. There doesn’t appear to be any disaster at all when you walk in, which would be a relief if it wasn’t so far out of the ordinary.

“Hop?” you call out as you put your things down by the door. “Hopper?” you repeat a moment later and a bit louder when there’s no answer. A feeling of worry growing in your belly, you creep over to the bedroom and slowly move the curtain. Stealthily peeking your head inside, your mouth instantly curls into a smile. Sprawled on the bed is all six feet and three inches of Chief Jim Hopper snuggling with tiny little Magnum as they’re both fast asleep.

The sight not only puts your mind at ease but warms your heart. Up until now, Hopper hasn’t allowed Magnum to sleep on the bed, instead having him sleep on an area rug with a baby blanket on the floor. You almost want to take a picture, if not for your own sake, for the sake of hearing what Powell and Callahan would say. You refrain, however, knowing that the flash would likely disturb their rest. Instead, you slip into your pajamas and curl up in bed with your two favorite guys, feeling so grateful for the little family you have created.

#Jim Hopper drabble #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #Hopper x Reader #Hopper x You #jim hopper fluff #PURE FLUFF #soft Jim Hopper #jim hopper fanfiction #gender neutral reader #I did it #Little Magnum

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When Jim met Morgan Pt. 2

Last one before I go to bed. I couldn’t sleep yet unless I got this out.

Also, since Quackerjack does not have a canon name, he’s Jack Stones. Again. So original but it’s easier on me to remember. Was going to name him Tad Stones but I think he wanted a more serious Quackerjack and the one I have in mind is about as loopy as you can get. Besides, Jack is a very common name.

Part 1 here.

What had supposed to be a short audition ended up spanning the rest of the evening. As bad as it made Morgan feel that the casting crew had turned away other candidates for the role, she was having too much fun reading out her lines with the man himself. She put on a more mysterious, graceful facade while playing Morgana, channeling the women who inspired Morgana’s style while elongating her vowels slightly with a velvety voice.

Jim’s reactions to her talking to him seemed much more genuine than the script called for. He swooned into each line and nearly melted when ‘Morgana’ was instructed to caress ‘Darkwing’s’ cheek. This, in turn, caused Jim to give a more powerful performance, one that had put all his on-screen performances to shame. The chemistry between the two was absolutely perfect. By the end of the night, they seemed to have become quite comfortable with each other, something the casting crew had never seen before with Jim.

“Well, if you’re okay with it, we would like to give you the part of Morgana,” the casting director suggested when Jim and Morgan ended the scene they were working on. “Just to cut out the middleman of making you wait for a response.”

“Really?” Morgan blinked, falling out of the character she had put together.

“I mean, it’s obvious there’s chemistry here and I think what we saw here tonight would be a tough act to follow. We would like you to be Morgana. We can discuss details with your manager later but we want to extend the offer to you personally.”

Just beyond the casting director, Morgan could see Sparky spaz a little out of excitement and nod quickly to encourage her to take it. Jim, too, clenched his fists in anticipation of her answer.

“Well then, I accept,” she smiled.

“Excellent! You won’t regret it! Believe me!” Jim exclaimed then cleared his throat and running a hand over his head some with a slight smirk. “Well, now that that’s out of the way and we’ve been at this for hours now, how about we call it a night and maybe get dinner?”

The casting director rolled his eyes before wandering off, knowing very well that the offer was exclusively for Morgan. Morgan chuckled softly and shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Starling. That sounds wonderful but I’ve got to get back home to my little girl. She’s probably wondering where ‘Mommy’ is.”

Jim’s face fell.

“Little girl?” he repeated. He cleared his throat and his head before putting his hands up. So she was a mother. “No matter, we can swing by and-”

“That little feathery ball of energy has probably run her father ragged by now,” she smiled back at Sparky who laughed. Jim froze. The sound of everything shattering around him was nearly audible to everyone else.

“F-Father?” he asked, sounding defeated this time. “There’s a Mr. Nightingale?”

Morgan nodded.

“Yes. He offered to take over taking care of Mina while I auditioned for this role,” she explained. After a moment, Jim’s demeanor changed from disappointment to upbeat and he chuckled weakly.

“Of course you would be married! Silly of me to think you weren’t! And the studio does offer some of the best childcare services for actors, or so I’m told. I don’t have any kids of my own,” he waved a hand. “That way, dear old Daddy can also do what he needs to do away from the studio. But, ah, at least let me take you to your car. I have a golf cart around back.”

“That’s kind of you, but Sparky was my ride here since he knew the area better,” she snickered as she glanced back at Sparky who was twirling the golf cart keys around his finger. Jim’s shoulders fell once more.

“Oh.”

“Please don’t be disappointed! There will be plenty of time later to get to know each other when we’re on set!” her smile was genuine and even a blind man could see that she meant it in the most innocent way possible. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Starling.”

“Please,” Jim started with a smile and his voice deepening as he took her hand with both of his and kissed the back of it. “Call me ‘Jim’. I, too, look forward to seeing more of you…r work. On set, of course. Heh.”

“Oh my, you charmer, you,” Morgan giggled. “Well, if we’re going to be on a first name basis, you might as well call me Morgan. Though, it might be hard not to call me ‘Morgana’ with how close the names are. I guess I’ll have to learn to answer to both!”

“Whichever you prefer, though I think I did see somewhere in the script where I or ‘Darkwing’ calls you ‘Morg’,” Jim released her hand to go through his script once more.

“I already answer to that, so just add that to the list! Ah, but this was fun. I can’t wait until our first shooting,” Morgan brought her hands together with a dreamy sigh. “I already love the pairing of Darkwing and Morgana. To see it in action on the screen will be amazing!”

Jim looked as if he was about to melt again, this time into the floor with Morgan’s enthusiasm.

“I hope I can keep a straight face when it comes time for me and Sparky to interact in the show.”

The mention of another man sobered Jim immediately as Sparky walked up and put an arm around Morgan’s shoulders.

“Oh trust me, I already thought about that,” he waved his free hand. “We had the hardest time keeping a straight face during the duet in Little Shop of Horrors back in college.”

“I remember that! You nearly tripped coming up the stairs while singing.”

The conversation had erupted in laughter but it was lost on Jim. In fact, he couldn’t hear a word of it. His attention was focused on Sparky’s hand resting on Morgan’s shoulder. An eye twitched heavily and his jaw clenched tightly. His body started to visibly shudder in rage but just as it began to reach its peak, the hand was removed and everything that had built up was released. Jim’s stance deflated slightly in relief.

“Ha, well we better head out. The area gets pretty busy at night with all the clubs and such nearby.” Sparky sighed as he wiped his eye. “They’ll probably call you back sometime this week for a costume fitting before anything major starts.”

“I can’t wait!” Morgan gushed as she followed her friend out.

“I-I’ll probably see you then too!” Jim called after her, causing her to look back. “You take care now, Morgan!”

“Until then, you do the same, Mr.- Oh,” Morgan paused then smiled. “Jim. Have a wonderful night!”

The two excitedly recounted the events of the evening on the ride back to Sparky’s car.

“I can’t believe they just handed you the part like that!” Sparky squealed. “I was sure they were going to pull the same ‘we’ll contact you’ bull they tell everyone! They did it to me!”

“I didn’t expect them to know who I actually was!” Morgan bounced in her seat but then calmed down, leaning a cheek against her fist. “Still though, I feel bad for the other actresses who didn’t get a chance to audition.”

“Nah, I’m sure they have a mountain of other auditions to perform at. The studio always has several projects going on at once.” he flicked his hand.

“True. Tonight was absolutely amazing though.” she sighed, staring off out of the window.

“It was fun watching you and Jim get into the roles,” Sparky nodded. Silence fell between the two for a moment before he continued. “You’re lucky Rodrick isn’t the jealous type. You and Jim hit it off almost immediately.”

This made Morgan look over.

“Hm?”

“I mean, Jim doesn’t normally open up to anyone like that. Not anyone involved in the show, anyway. I think he really does like you.”

“I guess I am lucky in that sense. Rodrick knows my heart belongs to him. I hope Jim understands that too.”

“Mm. I know if I saw what happened tonight happen with Jack, I’d be a tad jealous,” Sparky shook his head. “I don’t think I’d be able to help it.”

“I know. But most of what we did was in the script-,” Morgan started but paused then narrowed her eyes playfully. “Who’s Jack?”

“What?!” the man jumped in his seat some at the question with his face reddening suddenly. “N-No one!”

“Don’t give me that. I haven’t seen your face go that red in a very long time!” Morgan poked him in the side teasingly. “Who’s this Jack person and do I have to play cupid?”

“No!” he snapped. Once he parked the golf cart, he leaned down with his face in the steering wheel and grumbled. “Jack Stones is the actor for Quackerjack…”

“Oooooh! Someone’s got a crush!” she grinned widely. “Does he know or is this an unrequited sort of deal?”

“I’m… not sure. He flirts with nearly anything that moves but I’m never sure if he’s serious or not. They kinda found the right person to play the insane harlequin.” Sparky rubbed the back of his head. “And he keeps calling me “Sparky” too which annoys me because only people who actually know me can call me that. Unfortunately, it’s become a show staple now. I mean, I WANT him to know me that well but… I don’t know, it’s complicated.”

“I see,” Morgan rubbed her chin. “Might be easier said than done, but maybe you should try to flirt back next time and see what his reaction is. You never know, he might actually be serious and want you to do so. But, uh, you might want to brush up a bit on your flirting. Last time you tried that it was as limp as a wet noodle.”

“Hey, I-” Sparky tried to defend as he watched Morgan get out and he did the same. “You know what, that’s fair. My flirting game is a bit weak.”

“We’ll work on that,” she chuckled as she leaned against the hood of Sparky’s car. “You know, maybe it was a good thing you sought me out for this role. It’ll be like we were back in college. We’ll be able to support each other once again and goof off like no one’s business. I think this is going to be the beginning of something grand.”

#darkwing duck #jim starling #morgan nightingale #morgana macawber #megavolt #elmo sputterspark #sparky #quackerjack

[egotuberwriting]

Confused Housemates

(Platonic) Darkiplier x Reader

Oh hey look, after forever this is finally finished. It’s not exactly how the anon who requested it wanted it, but I hope you still like it.

In a nutshell, this fic is about you and Dark being close friends, much to the surprise and confusion to everyone else.

   If anyone were to ask you if you regretted moving in with the Iplier egos, you’d immediately say no. It was actually the best decision you’ve ever made in your life. Yeah there was chaos in there practically every day, but it was entertaining chaos. Plus you got along with everyone inside the manor; a feat that many would say is impossible, especially considering who your best friend was.

   Darkiplier. A demonic being who was hellbent on taking over Mark’s channel and seemingly “disliked,” as he put it, everybody in the manor. Actually, he “disliked” pretty much everyone and and everything in the world. Well, everybody except you. He found comfort when you were around and actually tried to make sure his shell wouldn’t crack too much so he didn’t make you uncomfortable. In fact, he treated you as an equal.

   As he explained to you one time, you weren’t annoying and stupid like all the other residents in the Iplier Manor and you also had manners. Not only that, but you always made an attempt to be polite and helpful whenever a situation called for it. You also were the calmest and ‘most sane’ person he knew, which was a big plus.

   Surprisingly, despite how much you hung out with the demon, no one really realized your friendship with him. To them, you were just someone who moved in to help with work, seeing as how someone seems to always need help in some way. Wilford and Bim would ask for you to be their assistant on their shows, Host would need you to change his bandages if Dr Iplier was distracted with something else, Bing would beg you to protect him every time he pissed off the Googles, the list just went on. Anytime someone saw you with Dark for a long period of time was because he asked you to do paperwork he didn’t feel like touching or you just returned from an errand he sent you on and were talking about it.

   It was a rare day when it was quiet in the manor, save for a few gunshots you decided to ignore, and you were hanging out with Dark in the main living room. He sat on a couch reading a book while you were laying down on the same couch with your legs in his lap, listening to music with your eyes closed. Dark didn’t mind you resting your legs on his lap; as long as you didn’t fidget too much or stick your foot in his face, he was fine with it. The only reason he didn’t like you doing this was because of the ruckus that would insure should someone, mainly Warfstache, see this.

   And just his luck, Wilford Motherlovin’ Warfstache decided to enter the living room. He intended on asking Dark a question but instantly threw that out the window the moment he spotted you and how you were positioned.

   “Well now, what do we have here? Darkasprakle allowing Y/n rest their legs on his lap? What kind of madness is this?” He asked in astonishment.

   Dark sighed and glanced over at him. “They’re comfortable and not bugging me, unlike you. Now what do you want?”

   “Fuck what I was gonna ask you, this is WAY more interesting!” The man exclaimed in his usual loud voice.

   As Wilford went on with questions, not letting an irritated Dark answer, you open your eyes and panic upon seeing him. You quickly take your legs off Dark’s lap and sat up straight while throwing off your headphones and turning your music off. Watching you do this caused the moustached man to howl with laughter, and the demon to squint at him with anger.

   “Y/N! You didn’t have to put on that small show for me! Now, you gotta tell me, when did you and Dark get so close?” He asked, eyes sparkling as if this was something worth an interview. “Are you both, perhaps, dating?”

   “NO!” You both shouted at the same time.

   “We’re just friends, Wilford! That’s it!” You try to assure him but to no avail.

   “Now that’s a load of bullshit if I’ve ever heard it. Darkasparkle would never let anyone rest their legs on his lap if he didn’t need them for something!”

   He goes on and on about why what you said was bullshit, not only causing Dark’s shell to crack more and more, but also causes more Ipliers to enter the living room to see what the fuck Warfstache was going on about now.

   From the corner of your eye you see Dr. Iplier, Yan, Bim, both Jims (who are recording this), and Bing, listening to Wilford go on about how it’s strange that Dark would let you, an ordinary mortal and basically a random person, rest your legs on his lap, and how he wonders what else he allows you to do that he’d never let anyone else do. Trying to tune the loudmouth out, you can vaguely hear what the others are saying.

   “Dark and Y/N are friends rather than just associates?”

   “I thought Dark couldn’t stand anybody, especially random strangers…”

   “Perhaps Y/N is his senpai?”

   “Dude, I don’t think the edgelord rolls like that. Though it’s hella weird that he considers them a bro.”

   “Jim, make sure you record all of this. This is definitely our next big scoop!”

   “ENOUGH!” Dark shouts, slamming his hands onto the back of the couch.

   Dark’s shell cracked to the point where you see a version of him yell out in anger and frustration. His aura grew intense; with you being near him, it caused you to feel extremely dizzy, and the ringing that was usually light and easy to zone out was now loud and unbearable. You almost wanted to resume your music to try and drown it out.

   “Unless you dimwits feel like spending a whole year in the void, get the fuck out of my sight.” He growled, glaring at everyone.

   Well, that worked on the Ipliers who entered the living room moments ago; they all scattered. Warfstache stayed and shook his head.

   “Oh I get it; You just want to spend some time with your ‘special friend’ don’t you? Don’t worry, I get the hint now~” He smirked, then shuffled his way to you and lowered his head. “Though I think I might be wanting an interview from you now~”

   Dark grabbed him by the back of his shirt and threw him into a portal he created, closing it before the man could say anything else. Though he didn’t know why he expected that to work completely since he just opened another portal and stuck his head through.

   “Little aggressive, dontcha think?” He asks, quickly disappearing through the portal again before Dark could say anything.

   It takes the demon a few moments to calm himself before straightening out his suit and looking at you.

   “Are you okay?” He asked.

   “Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine.” You shake your head, trying to process what the hell just happened and also shake away the dizziness.

   He sighed and summed a glass of water, handing it to you. “My apologies for letting my aura get out of control. It’s just hard to control it when those idiots start to piss me off.”

   “I noticed.” You chuckled, taking the glass and starting to sip it.

   He sits back down and the two of you remain in silence for a few minutes. Eventually, you break the silence by speaking again.

   “Say… Dark?” He looks at you. “...We are friends, right?”

   “Of course we are.” He answers with no hesitation. “As I’ve explained before, you’re the only calm, polite one here. You also have a comforting feel about you. Something I’ve never seen in a human before. When not being bombarded by idiots, it encourages me to try and control my anger.”

   You smile and go to say something, but stop as you hear the sound of Wilford screaming about how Dark actually has a friend, which in turn causes the once silent manor to grow loud in confusion and surprise. You glance out the door, then back at Dark and see that his expression grows practically murderous. Without saying anything, he gets up again and straightens out his suit, taking a step over to you and putting your headphones over your ears again.

   “Rest here with your music. I have a moustached man to murder.”

   And with that, he melted into the shadows and left the room to deal with the ruckus.

 �� Honestly you couldn’t help but chuckle as you felt his presence leave the room. Laying back down and resuming your music, you smile as you think about how he really does consider you a friend. And you can’t help but wonder if it really was a bad thing that the other ipliers knew.

   Then again, knowing how the madhouse is, it probably was. Oh well.

#Darkiplier #Darkiplier x Reader #platonic #reader insert #Wilford Warfstache