#and THEN there’s all the decks i don’t have boxes for because they came in a crappy cardboard box that wouldn’t have lasted two seconds

[fingertipsmp3]

Selling stuff on vinted makes me so anxious for no legitimate reason I swear

#i literally just listed two of my tarot decks and i’m already nervous #like what if my photos aren’t good? what if the price is too high? #i listed these two just to test it out honestly. i still have the original boxes and guidebooks for both of these so i figured it’d be fine #i did put the price for each one as £10 because i mean.. they have a really nice sturdy box and full-colour guidebook arriving with them #and are in perfect condition. they’re not indie decks but also probably not super well known i think #i’m willing to come down to probably like £5 on each one tbh. i just want to see realistically: do i get any interest #and what can these sell for. and are my photos okay #for each one i just took pictures of the box; guidebook; the back of the cards (with the cards all piled up as a full deck) #and then i picked about 5 random cards and just took a photo face up in an attempt to show the artwork and what a spread would look like #my background was just my duvet colour which is currently white #i think the photos are fairly clear. they’re not like horrendous #i’m not in any of them and neither is my laundry that was also on my bed at the time #i just hope this goes well. i would love to get some serious decluttering done #honestly i want to pare my deck collection right down to the point where the entirety of it can just fit on my nightstand #because realistically i only use like the wild unknown; the linestrider tarot and a couple others #i’m torn about keeping indie decks that i don’t really use like the prisma visions tarot and moonchild tarot… on the one hand they are so so #beautiful and i probably wouldn’t manage to sell them for anywhere near what i got them for #but i really just don’t use them #like i’d feel bad selling the silhouettes tarot considering i literally wanted it for years and it was a grail deck but i don’t USE IT #i read with it once and the reading was about as clear as mud #and THEN there’s all the decks i don’t have boxes for because they came in a crappy cardboard box that wouldn’t have lasted two seconds #i used to knit little pouches for all my decks. most of the decks that are like this are still in those pouches #i feel like i can’t send somebody a bunch of loose cards but i also don’t have a deck to put them in. but would people want my crappy #pouches?? one of my friends said she thought people would be willing to buy the pouches even without the deck #but i have doubts. it’s literally a piece of acrylic that’s been sat on somebody else’s shelf for five years #would you rather receive a deck of boxless cards held together by a bunch of elastic bands or would you rather receive them in a pouch #or is it fine to just leave them loose in the envelope and hope they don’t bend? should i bubble wrap them?? #am i overthinking this???? let me know #personal

[dellalyra]

ʀᴏꜱʏ ᴘɪɴᴋ - ɢᴏᴊᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ

pixie says: another request from my wife @soraya-daydreams coming thru with an absolute banger. family formations or can be standalone <3

“Y/N!” Came a scream from down the hall.

You were almost asleep, bed so comfortable and sheets so soft until your door flung open and three bodies stood in the entrance before barging in.

“Shoko stop bullying Satoru.” You reflexively reply.

“Y/N! Thank god you’re here! A voice of reason! These two,” Satoru says, pointing to Geto and Shoko beside him “are trying to get me to dye my hair!”

You just look between the three of them. Geto is on your desk chair, fiddling with your pencils. Shoko is perched on the desk beside him and Satoru has flung himself face down on the foot of your bed.

“Okay, and… you don’t want to?” You ask.

“Why? Do you think I should?” Satoru asks, and you wonder why Geto and Shoko snicker.

“It’s your hair, Satoru! If you wanted to you could do a temporary dye in like - a really fun colour. Like the pink in the ends of my hair!” You wave your strands at him.

“See! I told you she would like the idea! C’mon Gojo, let us dye your hair.” Shoko pleads.

“You won’t even need’ta bleach it or anything, man.” Geto chimes in.

“But guys! My white hair is like - my thing!” Gojo is flailing his arms.

“I thought your eyes were your thing?” Geto questions.

“I have many things!” The muffled voice replies.

“Y/N, what do you think?” Geto prompts.

“Why am I the deciding factor?”

“Because Satoru would jump into a burning building if you asked him to.” Shoko adds, blunt as ever.

You blush and hear a weak attempt at a protest from the end of your bed.

You’ve no idea where your friends got this idea that Satoru is interested in you the way your are him but they seemingly won’t let it go.

“I think it would be fun - but Satoru chooses the colour. Is that okay, Satoru?” You poke him.

“Okay.” He says, lifting his head from your comforter.

“Cool! Shoes on then. Let’s go.” You say, swinging your legs out of bed.

“Where on earth can we get hair dye at 10pm?”

So that’s how you ended up at a 24 hour store checkout at 10.30pm with your three best friends. After much deliberation, a temporary box dye was found that would last about 6 washes and wouldn’t stain. Satoru was being uncharacteristically sheepish about the colour he chose, keeping the box close to his chest, until he dropped it and you picked it up to see the top of the box was a soft, rosy pink.

Your favourite colour.

You handed it to him, blushing as he looks straight at you.

“It’s gonna look really nice on you, ‘toru.” You say, smiling softly.

The two behind you gag at the sweet exchange.

At 11pm, Satoru was sitting on your desk chair - towel on his shoulders as you and Geto worked the pink through his white hair - Shoko (the instigator) sitting on your bed.

“Okay! Koko, set a timer for 10 minutes.” You say, pulling the gloves off your hands.

“What happens in 10 minutes?” Satoru asks.

“We wash your hair!”

“Wait?! You need to shower with me?! At least buy a guy a drink first, Princess.” He smirks at you and you roll your eyes.

“No, you incorrigible man. Just your hair. Plus, you don’t drink.”

Finding a way to wash his hair was a logistical nightmare since everyone insisted on being in the room but Satoru’s long limbs were difficult to contain - but eventually, the shower head was rinsing pink streams down the drain and his head was free of dye. You wrapped a towel over his head and told him to go style it how he normally would.

He proceeds to shake his head and say “I just let it dry?”.

Which sickens you.

He’s just that perfect, that beautiful - naturally?

What an asshole.

He turns to take the towel off and looks at you three and you melt inside.

His blue eyes shine in excitement as your face turns the colour of his now rosy pink hair.

Seeing him decked out in your favourite colour? Did all kinds of things to you - though it would never compare to his natural, snowflake coloured hair that visits your dreams each night. That will always be your favourite, because it’s a sign of your ‘Toru.

“Look at this marshmallow man!” Shoko says, jumping to try and ruffle his hair.

“Marshmallow?!” Satoru says, spinning to the mirror.

“Bro - that actually looks really good. I like it. Turned out real nice. What do you think, lil’ lady?” Suguru says, turning to you.

“I love it.” You say, hands clasped under your chin.

You didn’t just mean the hair.

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #anime #family formations extras #dad!gojo

[joelsgreys]

when i’m feeling alone, you remind me of home

Javier Peña x DEA Agent Female Reader

summary: Spending Christmas in Bogotá, Colombia isn’t ideal. Javier knows you’re missing home a little harder than usual, so he comes up with a plan to cheer you up.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. minor deviation from canon timeline (had to make it work), reader is an agent for the DEA, NO AGE SPECIED, NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION, reader understands and speaks spanish but no mention of her race or ethnicity, friends to lovers trope, reader celebrates christmas, reader has a good relationship with her family, minor smoking and alcohol consumption (both reader and javi), reader’s a bit rough around the edges sometimes. fluff, soft javi, he’s a bit of a grinch in the beginning though. switches in pov’s and tenses.

*ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS AT THE END.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: thank you to @hellishjoel for inviting me to join in on this fun project!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist

Javier Peña doesn’t do Christmas.

He especially doesn’t do Christmas in Bogotá.

He doesn’t see the point even acknowledging it.

There are more important things on his mind.

Capturing Pablo Escobar.

Dismantling the dangerous Medellín Cartel.

Living long enough to tell the fucking tale.

Those were his priorities while in Colombia.

Not decking the halls with boughs of holly.

And yet, there he is, fighting with a string of bright and colorful lights, wishing these things would put themselves on the tree. “Puta madre,” Javi curses underneath his breath as he tries untangling them from around his waist. Somehow, he only makes it worse. He grumbles, “This is fucking ridiculous—it shouldn’t be this fucking hard throwing lights on a goddamn fucking tree—” He pauses, spins around to find where he’d gone wrong and then continues grouching to himself. “Can’t believe people do this fucking shit for fun. Stupidest thing I’ve ever—”

Javi manages to free himself and glances down at his watch to see he’s running out of time—it’s past five now, and unless Messina’s in one of those bad fucking moods of hers and decides to dump some last minute paperwork onto your desk, then you’re going to be walking through the front door soon.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling a deep and frustrated sigh.

He’d been an idiot to decline Connie’s offer to help him when she had dropped off the decorations for him earlier that afternoon.

“You sure you don’t need my help?” she had asked as she handed him the cardboard box overflowing with festive ornaments and tinsel. “I have a couple of more hours before I have to be at the clinic, you know. I can help you set it all up for her, make it all nice and pretty.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got it handled,” he’d replied. “I’m sure it won’t take me too long to put some—is this fucking fruit?” Confused, Javi shifted the box over to his hip, pulling out a string of dried oranges and red cranberries. “Um, what the hell is this for? This supposed to be a snack for me while I decorate?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a homemade garland.”

“It’s a homemade what now?”

“Garland, Javier. It goes on the tree.”

Amused, he’d raised an eyebrow at her.

“Fruit going back onto the tree? That’s ironic.”

Sighing, Connie rolled her eyes at him once more.

“Last chance. Do you want my help or not, Javi?”

“I appreciate it, but like I said, I’ve got it handled.”

She’d shrugged. “Alright, suit yourself, then.”

Little did he know how he’d regret his decision. It’s a bigger headache than he thought it would be, an incredible waste of valuable time he could’ve been using to hunt down new leads, do the job he came here to do and find Pablo Escobar. Then again, the more he thinks about it, the more Javi realizes this isn’t a waste of his time at all—not really.

Because he’s doing this for you.

Because he knows you love Christmas.

Because he knows you’ve been feeling homesick.

The season you normally adored was bringing you nothing but emptiness this year. There is a void—a hole in your heart that only your family could fill.

“Messina denied my request for time off,” you had told him, taking a drag of his cigarette—you’re not much of a smoker, but he’d learned that tended to change on occasion when you were upset. “Said it isn’t fair to let me go home for Christmas. That I’m not the only one who wants to be with their family. And I get it. I do.” Sighing, you took a second drag and then handed the cigarette back to Javier; he’d put it between his lips, the taste of cherry flavored lip gloss that lingered on the filtered tip prompting a craving stronger than his craving for nicotine. “It was selfish of me to even think of taking time off. I just—I miss spending Christmas in my hometown, you know? Waking up to snow outside my window in the mornings. Building snowmen with my sister, hurling snowballs at my brother. I miss my mother and her cooking. I miss my father and how even at our age, he still insists on pretending to be Santa.”

Laughing, Javier leaned forward on his stool.

You’d asked him to meet you at your usual spot—a quiet lounge bar right around the corner from your apartment. When he walked in and saw the scotch in front of you on the table, he’d known something was wrong. You’re not much of a drinker, either.

“Does he eat the cookies and drink the milk too?”

You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest, a little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. He tried not to let his gaze longer there too long—he’s just one man. There was only so much strength he could muster to keep fighting the temptation.

“Of course. He takes his role very, very seriously.”

Despite your smile, he’d noticed it right away.

The unmistakable sadness in your eyes.

You were tough as fucking nails.

In this line of work, you had no choice but to be.

But Javier knew your family was your weakness.

His weakness?

His weakness was sitting there in front of him with a crestfallen expression on her pretty face, tracing around the rim of her glass with her finger.

“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” Your voice had thickened, the emotions you’re used to bottling up threatening to boil over.

“Of course not,” he assured you. “There is nothing stupid about wanting to go back home to see your family. There’s nothing stupid about wanting to be with them for the holidays. I promise you that.”

You snorted. “Peña, we’re trying to bring down the most dangerous man in all of South America. Last thing I need to be doing right now is dreaming of a white Christmas. It’s fucking stupid, alright?”

Hesitantly, Javier lifted his hand and placed it over yours—it wasn’t the first time he’d ever held it, not the first time he had shown physical affection, but this was the most vulnerable he had ever seen you and he didn’t want to make things worse. Once he realized it was okay, he brushed the back of it with his thumb softly, soothingly.

“Yo hablaré con Messina, cariño.”

“No hay caso para eso, Javier.”

“Maybe I can convince her to let you go. She’s got me and she’s got Murphy. We’ll handle things here while you head home for a few days, spend a week with your family for Christmas. Doesn’t hurt to try, you know.” Javi squeezed your hand. Knowing just how fucking stubborn you could be, he insisted on it. “Por favor, cielo. Dejame ayudarte con esto. Yo solo quiero verte feliz. Dejame ayudarte.”

You drained the rest of your scotch and swallowed it along with the lump that had climbed it’s way up your throat. Setting the glass back down, you then pulled your hand out from under his and stood up.

“Forget it. I’m here because I have a job to do—we both have a job to do. I’ll get over it, Javier. Always do.”

Before he could say another word, you’d picked up your jacket and purse, making a quick dash for the exit before he could see the stubborn tear slipping out from the corner of your eye and down the side of your face. But he had seen it, and that’s exactly why he knew he had to do something for you.

About an hour later, Javi places a glittering star on top of the white spruce and then takes a couple of steps back, hands on his hips. Cocking his head to the side, he observes the tree and makes sure that he hasn’t left a single spot bare. He decides to add more gold tinsel until he feels oddly satisfied—and once he is, he pulls out his pocket knife, using it to open the small sized box he had brought with him; two different addresses were scribbled on the side of it in your mother’s handwriting, his apartment’s address the destination, her address the return.

“I wrapped it well,” she’d said over the phone. “It’s her most prized possession, so I really hope it gets to you in one piece or she’s going to kill us both.”

Javier slowly unwraps the object inside and feels a wave of complete and utter relief wash over him to see it made it through customs without breaking.

He squints, taking a better look at the ornament.

The little blonde ballerina is made of porcelain and holds a nutcracker soldier in her arms—the skirt of her dress is white lace embroidered with teeny red rosettes that perfectly match the blush painted on her cheeks and the color of the bow in her hair.

“It’s Clara,” your mother had explained to him.

“Who?” he’d asked, stupidly.

“Clara. You know, from The Nutcracker?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” he’d fibbed. “Clara. Got it.”

He had no clue what she had been talking about—but if it’s special to you, then it’s special to him.

Carefully, Javi hangs it on tree just as he hears the front door open and then slam shut so hard that it causes the paper thin walls of your unit to rattle.

“Peña!” you shout loudly. “You fucking asshole!”

Lip rolling between his teeth, he stifles a laugh.

You must have seen his Wrangler parked outside.

Grinning, Javier steps out into the hallway to greet you. “Hola, hermosa. Bienvenida a casa.”

“So, let me get this straight,” you say, tossing your purse and unit keys onto a nearby table. “You offer to give me ride to and from work but then proceed to ditch me and leave work three hours early—you leave me with no other fucking choice but to call a cab to bring me home and when he drops me off, I see your fucking car outside of my apartment?”

Rubbing his chin, he hums, “Sounds about right.”

You approach him, your hands curled into fists.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Javier?”

Javi’s quick to hold up his own hands in defense.

He won’t put it past you to knock him out—he and Murphy have seen you bring down men twice your size before without a weapon. Neither of them can decide if it’s hot as hell or downright terrifying.

“Okay, put those away and let me explain,” he tells you, shaking his head. “I’m really sorry I did that to you, but I did it for a reason.”

You scoff, “Well, if that reason was to piss me off, I have some news for you—it fucking worked.”

“That wasn’t the reason. Not this time, anyway.”

Chuckling, Javier extends a hand, holding it out to you.

You peer at it. “What are you doing, Peña?”

“Ven conmigo, cielo. Tengo una sorpresa para ti.”

Suspiciously, you ask him, “What did you do?”

He laughs again. He knew it wouldn’t make it easy for him. “You do know how surprises work, right?”

You lift your chin. “I do and I don’t like surprises.”

“I know you don’t, but I think you’ll like this one.”

Javi continues to hold out his hand and waits.

He’s just as stubborn as you are, if not more.

“We can stand here all fucking night, corazón.”

Sighing in defeat, you place your hand in his, heart skipping a beat when he smiles and laces together your fingers with his own.

“Cierra tus ojos.”

“Javier, I don’t want—”

He quickly cuts you off. “Do you trust me?”

Of course. Hell, you trusted him with your life.

And not just because it’s a job requirement.

Huffing, you do as he says and close your eyes.

“Good.” Javier places his other hand on your waist and his fingers brush against the patch of smooth, soft skin peeking out from between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your blouse. Ignoring his burning desire to feel more of you, he leads the way into the living room and positions you in front of the tree. Without dropping your hand, he moves to stand directly behind you, chest pressed lightly against your back.“Puedes abrir tus ojos, bonita.”

“Look Peña, I don’t know what you’re up to but—”

Your own startled gasp cuts you off mid sentence.

Squeezing your hand, he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and you can feel his grin as he whispers, “Sorpresa, preciosa. Tienes un arbol de Navidad. Qué tal te parece?”

You open your mouth to speak, then clamp it shut.

His surprise had left you speechless.

Pleased with himself, Javi nudges you towards the tree and then drops his hands down at his sides as he watches you gingerly touch the needles.

Closing your eyes, you inhale deeply, the delicious, woodsy smell of pine reminding you of your family and how you’d all pile into your father’s old pickup truck and head to the Christmas Tree Farm to find the perfect white spruce to take home. Your father took great care in the picking process—he wanted the tallest, fluffiest, most fragrant tree. “Need this place to smell like the farm!” he’d boom. You smile and can’t help but to think he’d approve of Javi—if not because of what he had done for you, then the choice in tree would be enough to win him over.

“Do you like it?” he asks, softly.

You open your eyes and whirl around. “Javi, I can’t believe you did this,” you say, breathlessly. Smiling brighter than the lights on the Christmas tree, you throw your arms around him. “I love it so much!”

He savors the embrace—and wonders if you know just how perfectly you fit right in his arms.

“There’s one more surprise,” Javier informs you as he spins you around to look at the tree once again. “Do you see it?”

“See what?” Peering at the tree, you frown. “What am I supposed to be looking for—wait a second, is that—is that Clara?” Your hand flies to your mouth and you look up at him in complete shock. “That’s the ornament my grandmother made for me when I was a baby! I’ve had her since my first Christmas. How did you—?”

“Santa no cuenta sus secretos.” Javi grins, pulling you closer against his side. “But if you must know, your mom sent it to me,” he confesses. “Actually, I have to be honest—this whole thing was her idea.”

Perplexed, you ask, “This was my mom’s idea?”

“I know you’ve been having a hard time being here during the holidays instead of with your family,” he says. “I called her up a couple of weeks ago, asked her what I could do for you. We started talking and came up with this.” He shrugs and touches a hand to the back of his neck, sheepishly. “I know it’s not the same as going home. But I thought it might be nice to bring a little piece of home here to you.”

Warmth blossoms inside of your chest as you turn to face him. You place a hand on his chest. “Javi?”

Nervously, his throat bobs. “Yeah?”

“Why did you do this for me?”

Javier lifts his hand and tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “I told you. I just want to see you happy.”

“But why?”

You know why.

But you need to hear him say it.

You need to hear it from his own mouth.

Javi’s hand moves to cup the side of your face. “Is it not obvious?” he murmurs as he grazes the silky soft skin over your cheekbone. “Tú bien sabes qué yo siento algo por ti, hermosa. Aunque no sientas igual.”

“How do you know I don’t feel the same for you?”

“Do you?” His thumb sweeps your bottom lip. “Do you feel the same for me?”

Your hand curls around his red plaid flannel.

“I shouldn’t,” you admit. “We’re work partners.”

He feigns offense. “Ouch. And here I was, thinking we were friends.” He now takes your chin between his index finger and his thumb. Licking his lips, his eyes meet yours. “Breaking my heart, baby.”

Your breath audibly catches. “We are friends—and it scares me to put our friendship on the line.”

“But?” he prompts as he tilts your head up toward his. His opposite hand finds your hip and pulls you closer to him.

“But when you do things like this—it’s hard for me not to fucking fall in love with you, Peña.” You drag your hand down his chest, your fingers relishing in the softness of his flannel. “It’s so fucking hard for me not to fall in love with somebody who feels like home.”

Javier’s chuckles softly.

“For the record, this wasn’t a ploy to get you to fall in love with me, corazón. But if it worked—” Javier pauses, dropping his hand from your face. “Then I guess it’s worth pulling this thing out.”

He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Javi, what the hell are you—?”

He grins, holding the mistletoe above your heads.

“Connie said this might come in handy.”

Your eyes flicker to his lips, then meet his gaze.

“Ven aqui, Peña.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull Javi in and crash your mouth against his. You brush his bottom lip with your tongue and he grants you the access you’re looking for. He tastes like spearmint and scotch, and something else too.

He tastes like yours.

And he feels like home.

diver credit to @saradika-graphics ❤️

Translations

Yo hablaré con Messina, cariño. - I’ll talk to Messina, darling.

No hay caso para eso, Javier. - There’s no point, Javier.

Dejame ayudarte con esto. Yo solo quiero verte feliz. - Let me help you with this. I just want to see you happy.

Ven conmigo, cielo. Tengo una sorpresa para ti. - Come with me, I have a surprise for you.

Cierra tus ojos. - Close your eyes.

Puedes abrir tus ojos, bonita. - You can open your eyes, pretty girl.

Sorpresa, preciosa. Tienes un arbol de Navidad. Qué tal te parch? - Surprise, precious girl. You have a Christmas tree. What do you think?

Santa no cuenta sus secretos. - Santa doesn’t tell his secrets.

Tú bien sabes qué yo siento algo por ti, hermosa. Aunque no sientes igual. - You know all too well I have feelings for you. Even if you don’t feel the same.

Ven aqui, Peña. - Come here, Peña.

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x you #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fluff #narcos fanfiction #javier peña one shot #javier peña drabble #12 days of pedro

[love4pascal]

"Summers In The Air And Baby, Heaven's In Your Eyes."

Joel Miller x F!reader

An: first fic! Feedback would definitely be appreciated!

Word count: 1k+

Warnings:fluff, age gap (readers 26 & Joel is 33) Joel and reader have been friends for 4 years so, Fake dating, creepy neighbors husband, protective!joel for like 2 seconds, THEY KISS.

You're My Best friend Series!

It's mid July and the Millers are throwing their annual neighborhood together.

Every. Single. Year. The millers throw an outstanding barbecue, the best Texan brisket that’s been smoked for 12 hours the night before just for this big event.

Hours before the event the whole Miller household was in shambles, everyone on deck running around tidying up, making sure everything is perfect.

Thankfully Joel and Tommy had helpful hands with you being there. Sarah not so much but she’d pop in at times to see what the progression looked like.

Joel called out for your help in the backyard.

“Hey can you help me with the pool, while I check on the brisket?” He squinted his eyes due to the Texas sun in his eyes.

“Yeah, the skimmers in the shed, right?” With the nod of approval from the older Texan, you headed to the shed and grabbed the skimmer for the pool.

While skimming the pool, you were oblivious to the footsteps behind you until you were falling into the pool and loud laughs were heard from the two.

Sarah hunched over; giggles coming from her. Joel stands in the spot that you were just at, laughing.

The worst duo when it came to stuff like this.

“You’re a very lucky man, Miller.” Reaching your hand up to signal help getting out.

“And why’s that?” Grabbing your hand and ready to pull you up from the cool water.

You yank his hand and here he comes splashing next to you in the cool blue water.

“Because if I was wearing the clothes for the party right now, you’d be a dead man.” You laughed at his soaking wet form in the water

Sarah was practically rolling on the grass from how her father fell for the obvious.

“Sarah, could you help me carry this stuff to the table please?” Walking out and placing the paper plates and plastic silverware onto the white fold up table.

“Where should I put this..?” She stood next to you confused.

“I’ll put it away, don’t worry about it.” Grabbing the box of napkins and more paper plates and placing them on the table.

Once you were done putting stuff away , you decided to check on Joel knowing he tends to get anxious before everyone shows up.

“How are you doing.?” You rubbed his shoulder.

“You know how I get before everyone shows up.” Pulling the brisket out of the smoker.

“Yeah and every time, people are blown away from your amazing Texan hospitality that keeps them coming every year.” Following him to the table where all the food is set out and covered.

“You ain’t got a damn thing to worry about miller.” You reassure him.

“Yeah I know but-” he was abruptly cut off.

“Hey Joel, people are here. You want me to let them in or nah..?” It was the man of the hour, Tommy miller.

Joel looked at you for some help, and with a nod of approval from you, he told Tommy to start letting people in.

-

With about half of the neighborhood in Joel millers backyard, there was still enough room to navigate around.

Sarah and her friends playing in the pool, parents talking about the latest gossip going on in the neighborhood. Joel and Tommy talking to their construction friends.

It was one of the very many things you enjoyed during the summer.

Watching from afar, soaking up the memory of pure happiness, until it was rudely interrupted by someone.

“Hey, you know where Joel keeps the beer? I’ve seen everyone with one yet I can’t seem to find a single cooler of beer.” A tall man, graying hair and slight wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.

“Oh um, yeah it’s just this way.” Walking outside by the grill and pulling the large cooler from the somewhat hidden space it sat before.

“Thank you darling. I appreciate it.” The man smiled at you.

“Oh it was really no problem at all.” You returned a polite smile at the older man and just as you about to walk away to find Joel, is when you felt a hand on your wrist.

“Why don’t you have a drink with me?” His oddly warm hand still wrapped around your wrist.

“I would, but I really need to find Joel.” Using anything as an excuse to get away from this man.

“How about you have a drink with me and then we can both go find Joel?!” He said, it was sounding like he was more telling you than asking you.

You were about to reply until your thoughts were interrupted.

“Actually Mike, I need her help with something, so if you don’t mind, I’d like for you to let go of my girlfriend.” It was the man that you were looking for, Joel miller.

“Oh my bad Joel, didn’t mean anything by it.” The tall man, Mike was much shorter than Joel was, Joel was practically towering over the older man. Mikes hand quickly unwrapping itself from your wrist.

“I think Linda’s over there looking for you. Said something about your daughter, might want to go find her.” Joel softly pulling you in his side, watching Mike scramble to find his wife.

“So girlfriend huh?!” You grin looking up at him. Resting your right hand on his chest.

He playfully pushes you away, laughing as he speed walks away from you.

“MILLER.” You shout as you ran after him, laughing once you catch up.

“I only said that so he’d let go of you, or I was gonna have to ruin the barbecue because I would’ve punched him” he said slowly sitting on the outside couch he had.

“Joel miller, you would ruin your barbecue for me, I feel honored.” Nudging your elbow against his.

“Oh shut up.” He looks at the ground chuckling.

After everyone left, it was just you, Joel, Tommy, Sarah and her school friend Ellie.

You and the Miller men clean up the aftermath of the barbecue.

3 trash bags full, fold up table put in the shed, extra food placed in the fridge, and beer put in the garage fridge.

You were finally done.

Tommy called it a night after helping you and Joel take the trash to the garage cans.

-

After washing your hands and putting away the extra paper plates back into the pantry, and running the dishwasher even after Joel’s protests about how he’ll do them tomorrow.

You found Joel sitting on the outdoor couch nursing a beer. Sitting right next to him and laying your head on his firm but soft shoulder.

He offered you some of his beer, which you excepted.

You two say in comfortable silence, just enjoying one another’s company.

At one point you could hear Sarah and her friend Ellie laughing and giggling. It sends a pang of happiness to your heart.

You finally broke the silence, your voice soft and airy.

“You’re the best, best friend I’ve ever had.” You say looking up at him.

And for a second you could’ve sworn the world went quiet, no giggles of the two young girls upstairs, no crickets or chirps, just you two.

“Oh yeah?” He said looking at the full moon that had been looking right at the two of you.

“Yeah.” Turning your attention to the moon as well.

“Well you’re also the best, best friend I’ve ever had.” He turns to admire you, how peaceful you look, how the moon light dances on your beautiful skin.

He watches as you turn to look at him, your smile brightens and for the first time in Joel millers life, he gets butterflies.

It’s like something had taken over Joel’s body as he slowly leans towards you, before his lips capture yours.

You deepen the kiss, moving from sitting beside Joel to sitting on his lap.

He breaks the kiss for a second to breathe, your foreheads resting onto one another’s before he captures your lips for a second time.

“I think I’m in love you with you.” You whisper into the kiss.

“I think I’m in love with you too.” He whispers to you.

A/n: Hey there! I hope you enjoyed!

#joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #sarah miller #tommy miller #love4pascal

[somnambulic-thing]

Hi Sweetheart

Eddie Munson x gn!reader E 18+ || ao3

1.8k

This is a follow-up to Smoke and Cherry Pop Rocks taking place exactly one year after their first night together.

There is a 400ish word blurb preceding this that isn’t totally necessary to read, but will give a little more context and make this pull on your insides a little more.

CW ||demi!bi!Eddie, Roadie!Eddie, letter format: Eddie pov, angst, intense heartache, regrets, grief, mentions of sex with other people (no cheating), self-exploration, painful introspection, growing pains||

Hi Sweetheart

Do you know what day it is? Do you remember?

I’m watching the sun’s descent while having a smoke and I remember everything. 

It’s been a year now, one full fucking year, and the memories of you still haunt me I remember every little thing from the moment you walked out of the sinking sun like straight out of my daydreams.

It felt like the ground was shaking beneath me but I think it was just my heart dropping through my ass at the sight of you.

I never told you that I had been thinking about you that very moment, asking myself what the fuck I did wrong to make you say goodbye to me like that. With so much determination.

And I am not just talking graduation day, oooh no, I’m talking all the fucking time. Every time we hung out after I fixed your bike, when you left, you left me with something that felt like a small break-up. Like the end of something that never had a chance to really be something.

And I just couldn’t figure out why. Nothing made sense and the idea of asking scared the shit out of me because you never gave me the feeling of not being good enough and I was afraid to be proven wrong about that.    

So I was lying there on the deck in a nice warm pool of self-pity, rewinding the moment you vanished from my sight for the last time but in my mind, I pressed stop right before you could get away. And through the power of my imagination, you spun around and came back to me but before daydream-Eddie could say anything to daydream-you, real-you appeared out of fucking nowhere.

Felt a little like fate, if I’m totally honest.

And you know what? Instead of rejoicing with delight that I somehow managed to conjure you up out of dry, dusty air, I was terrified. Because I had enough of your goodbyes, all I thought I could take. Because in my mind, there was no scenario that wouldn’t end with me, alone in bed with a rock for a stomach after you left again.

Wondering why you just didn’t fucking want me when I was so sure we had something between us. (and oh wasn’t I right about that?)

Fuck.

And then you ramble and ramble, confusing the shit out of me before you ask me for a kiss?

Fuuuuck.

So yeah, I remember all of it. Remember the look on your face after that first kiss, so sweet and hot and in awe from k i s s i n g ME. I could feel my heart crawl up my throat with the intent of crawling down yours, using that moment to vanish between your pretty parted lips so that you had no way of walking away from me again. I remember feeling so high.

Fuck.

This sunset looks the same as ours, by the way. Just another cosmic cruelty. 

Because now, when I watch a sunset like this, I either get sad or hard. Right now, there’s a bit of both going on. Who am I kidding? Why hold back? It’s not like I’m actually going to send this letter. It’s another one for ‘the box’. I’m so fucking sad right now, sweetheart. Heartbroken, actually.

Because you won’t leave my mind. Your fingertips won’t leave my skin. I try to remember your voice all the time so it won’t fade from my memory the way your smell has left me. Replay the way you say my name when I make you laugh or cry or moan.

I called a girl by your name last month. Was sure she was going to slap me but the pity in her eyes when she put her clothes back on did the trick just as well.

I don’t think I’m particularly made for that one-night stand business. Am more of a ‘books, drugs and rock'n'roll’ guy. My crew says, it’s because I am still sulking about you, because I am idolizing you, turning you into a goddess and maybe they are right, I don’t fucking know, never been so in love before, have I?

But it doesn’t feel like they are right. 

I can’t describe it, really. It’s not like it’s bad or disgusting or whatever (the sex, I mean, in case that wasn’t clear) it just feels. Not right.

Yeah yeah I am so not sending this one, so I might as well…

Felix suggested (I told you about Felix on the phone, remember? We started the roadie adventure at the same time. He's hilarious.) I might swing the other way. He also offered himself to test that theory a few weeks ago and he’s cute and a good guy, so turns out I might swing both ways and it was kinda nice, no it was nice, but it still didn’t feel right.

So Felix suggested to stop thinking about it for a while and clear my head.

As this document and all the others recently tucked away in ‘the box’ can testify, it’s not going too well.

I hate thinking about you with other people and I hate thinking that there’s a possibility that you’re as miserable about this as I am but I also can’t stand the thought that you’re not thinking about me anymore. That you don’t miss me.

Can still hear you cry through the shitty sticky plastic receiver of that gas station pay phone and I hate that the last time I heard your voice it sounded so hollow and so small. Like I was calling you from Saturn and fuck me if it didn’t feel that way too.

And that is the whole gigantic fucking problem, isn’t it? That I’m not ready to come back to earth. That I love being on a new planet every other day with all those strange fucking aliens where I belong more than I ever did in the town I grew up in. I’m not reliable right now and no matter how much you told me it was okay that I called two days late or whatever it was I had to disappoint you with. It wasn’t. Wasn’t okay at all.

I’m glad you admitted as much when I called you to say goodbye.

It’s been seven months, one week and five days since that day. But it feels like forever. Remember I told you one day on the road can feel like three?

So much has happened in that year, so many new loud, bright, wild memories and still… You haven’t faded yet against any of them. I am blessed and cursed with the most vivid visions of you, just have to close my eyes to see you climbing on top of me, naked and sweaty and glorious. I just wish I could feel your palms on my chest pushing me back into the mattress. Your nails leaving little marks and

Fucking stop it, Eddie!!! Gonna end up crying with a boner…

Don’t want you to think it’s just about the fucking. It’s not. It’s just… with the date and all.

Fuck. We could have celebrated one year today.

I am playing with the thought of calling you, to ask you to try this long-distance thing (this constantly shifting distance thing) again. I almost called you before I picked up the pen. Am still thinking about calling you. Maybe after I am done getting all the fucking whining out of my system. I hope that’ll be soon, my hand is already cramping.

But it’s been months. More than half a year. I can’t just fucking call you like that, can I?

Wayne told me your mom told him you’ve been seeing someone.

He didn’t tell me more, despite me begging, despite knowing that I knew he knew more because I know that man and can tell when he’s trying to protect me.

What kind of a fucking asshole does it make me that I want to call you anyway? More, even?

That kind of asshole that found solace in the vision of knocking on your door one day, when I’m done with the circus, setting sun in my back and that stupid smile on my face you find so irresistible for reasons I can not comprehend.

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

I just want to talk to you, wanna know how you are, what you're up to and

fuck I miss you.

I miss you and you're seeing someone and my chest aches like my heart did crawl down your throat a year ago and now has to watch you fuck a stranger being with someone else and I fucking did this to myself. And to you. To us.

And I want to take it back. I want you back. I want the privilege to call you at weird fucking times to have access to your thoughts again and tell you mine because there is so much left to say and make plans and make you horny and 

I want to know

I thought of taking time off. Pulling a: I was in town and thought we could catch up. But I bet you'd know the truth as soon as the lie leaves my mouth. I’d like to think I could play it cool when seeing you again, you know, but the way I feel right now, it would be a miracle if I could suppress the urge to just launch myself at you.

I want to know if the guy you're seeing treats you right and feed him to a Fell Beast if he doesn't. Piece by agonizing piece.

How long has this been going on? Long enough to push out memories of me? Or were those already faded when you met him? Do you compare him to me sometimes and am I doing good?

You know, there are whole days where I don’t think about you. I had a full month where I was sure I was getting over it, when we transitioned between bands and I had to get used to a different drill, different equipment, new people and all that every-day-roadie-shit.

Some days I want to smack my head to get you out of there. Smack it real hard to make sure that nothing stays behind so that you can’t slowly grow back into the cracks of my mind like weeds until I can’t see where I’m going.

I really only had you for two weeks and I am acting like we were married for two decades.

But what an outlook…

Sweetheart, is there a word for grieving things I never had?

The sun is gone now, by the way. I think I should leave my hiding spot and go back to my crew before they send a search party.

I bet you’d like the guys.

If I still want to call you tomorrow, I will.

general taglist:

@bettyfrommars @deathbecomesthem @songforeddiemunson @potthealien2423 @raccoonboywrites

@jo-harrington @lunatictardis @skrzydlak @slutforstabbings @eddieslooneymoonie

@chaoticgood-munson @storiesbyrhi @mrsjellymunson @the-unforgivenn @aphroditesbaby1616

@fracturedarkness @allthingsjoeq

interested people tags:

@howdidyouallgetinmyroom @tlclick73

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic

[ghouljams]

Okay okay I saw your post about wanting the witch to do some really crazy magic that proves she’s tough and I raise you an additional idea. European magic and myths with fae and cryptids is more positive and nice, especially with modern retelling of fairy tails (I know this isn’t necessarily true there are some really dark aspects of European folk). I myself am from the Appalachian Mountains, and that region is very very old. I don’t know what you know about the region but the mountains themselves are older than the rings of Saturn, and bones. With how old they are the region has a lot of folk lore and cryptids and dark legends surrounding it, most of which coming from the indigenous communities that were there before us. Haints, wendigo/skin walker, and a slew of rules everyone follows. You don’t whistle at night, keep a broom above every door, cover the mirrors and open the windows when someone dies, if you hear screaming or someone calling for you in the dark or woods- NO YOU DIDNT!!! Dark shit like that is a big deal where I’m from. Now my actual thought was what if witch is from a old magic type of place, and when someone (another fae not price) comes to challenge her or test her saying she ain’t powerful or she doesn’t know real magic and fae, she shows them where she’s from (I was thinking with her cool door) they step thru into the middle of the woods of her ancestral/family home and they immediately are terrified. Like the fae!141 are old and ancient fae but the region is older than even then and it scares the fuck outta them, like they immediately forfeit! Maybe they saw something in the woods or just the overall feeling of the place is overwhelming. This would also match up with the witch being so scared of the mimic, cause wendigos/skin walkers are fucking terrifying in a place like Appalachia so her moving and thinking that’s what she’s being terrorized by is horrifying!!! I know this is really long and probably makes no sense and whatever you write is and will be amazing but I just had this thought today cause your writing lives rent free in my mind 24/7!!! Whatever witch x price you make will make me feral no matter what!!!!

Witch's magic is actually loosely based around American folk magic, specifically Hoodoo and some Appalachian folk magic. And all I can say is: Don't bring those names into my ask box they are so very scary and I'm scared(joking)(I actually am terrified of .... I don't even like typing their name). Although I don't think Witch is from the US, she is definitely very, very, old magic. I have various thoughts on where her magic comes from, but it's old. (I think Konig stops to look at her because her magic is familiar to him, an ancient understanding ingrained in him of what she is)

Anyway I have a few little pieces about Witch interacting with other witches, what's one more challenge to her abilities?

It's always interesting when fae visit you. When they come to you as customers, you mean. No you're fairly used to visitors at this point. It's the ones that come to you for a service that you don't get often. You smile at the fae across from you as you shuffle your cards. They came in through the front, you know they want something. Annoying that they've managed to stay silent as you ushered them in.

18, 19, you switch between the cards to try and get a feel for what will work best for your silent customer. The man, you suppose, laying the card down on the table. Not for their appearance, but for the role they seem intent on playing. Domineering, or trying to be. You lay cards around it, humming to yourself. Snake, birds, mice, the coffin, the clouds, the home. You know all this. They're sitting right in front of me practically salivating, you try to silently tell your deck.

"So," You squint your eyes to really try and sell your smile as friendly, you feel like you're doing little more than bearing your teeth, "What are you looking for today?"

"Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about," They tell you calmly. You snap down three cards for yourself in quick succession, though you hardly need to read them to get the message.

"Boot this rude motherfucker" the cards tell you. You scoop up your draws with your fingers and shuffle them back into the deck.

"I see," You try to keep your voice bright. They scoff, their expression amused. You don't see what's so funny.

"Hardly, I expected a seer at least, you're-" They wave their hand at you, "-just feeling it out, right?" You raise your brows, continue your shuffle. "I expected Price to be chasing someone a little more," They sigh, you don't expect them to finish the sentence, you're sure it's insulting. Rules dictate politeness, they sure are skirting that line.

"You know Price," You don't ask, but the question hangs between you. How? and Does he even like you? You can't imagine he does.

"Mm, we're on the court together," The fae rests their elbow on the arm of your couch, sets their chin against their palm, fingers curling against their cheek. "Strange he'd be so protective of such a novice, but I suppose you're pretty. He likes pretty."

You let your head tip side to side as you think. Novice. That's one you're not used to hearing. You wonder why they'd think that. Can't they feel your magic? A card jumps out of your shuffling. The home. Ah. You feel your smile grow more genuine as you press the card back into the middle of your deck.

Of course they can't feel you. This whole place is you. It would be like looking at an ocean and deciding it's harmless because you can't pick out a single drop of water. That doesn't stop the waves from dragging you out to drown any more than it stops your magic from surrounding this fae. You wonder if they can feel it, the way your magic hones in on them, eyes watching their every move with silent focus.

"Why don't I show you out?" You set your deck on the table and stand without waiting for an answer, leading them to your back door. You're sure they'll find your garden more than impressive now that you've rescinded their welcome.

"Why not," They follow, "I should be going anyway, you're hardly worth the trouble the others are sending after you."

It's crossing the threshold a second time that hurts, that spins and swims in the fae's vision. The heat of a familiar season ripping through them like an oven. Summer bound by heavy chains and iron spikes. You smile at them peacefully, spidering ties arcing off of you towards the sun itself. You burn. Your magic lashes against the confines of the garden, the walls and wards worked into the land, into summer itself.

The fae looks back into your home, the consumptive darkness of a doorway once broken and twice repaired, of a space that shouldn't be a space. A house that's wrong. They look back to you, to the soft tilt of your head, the faux patience as you wait for them to remember what they're here for.

The ground beneath their feet is unfamiliar, and pitches their stomach. They stumble a little, the pressure of the magic keeping a whole season in place settling on their shoulders. It takes everything in them not to buckle under the weight.

"This is fun," You smile at them, raising a hagstone to your eye, "I was wondering why my wards were acting up."

They do their best to collect enough air to respond. Everything feels thick and humid, the heat only raising as they stay close to you. They blink against the blinding sun, their vision swinging violently as they try to keep their focus on moving. Are they moving? You aren't. You're the only fixed point as the world pitches on its axis and spins.

You and your terrible smile, staring down at their suffering. They're on the court for fucks sake, some little human pet shouldn't stand half a chance against them. They make to swing for you, try to grab you with their claws. There's only air, their depth perception wavering between distances. You crouch, following them as the weight of magic forces them to their knees.

"Now I will admit," You hum, reaching to pluck a few stray hairs from their head, "I don't particularly care for killing, so I'll leave you for Price to take care of."

You snap your fingers and the fae straightens and stands from their misery. They walk themselves to the gate and open it. They look back at you, and you wiggle your fingers in goodbye as the hairs in your grip spark with the same fire that engulfs them as they step out into Winter.

#oc: Witch #ghoul speaks #Price finding the charred barely alive fae: lmao get wrekt #he wishes he could've seen Witch committing acts of violence #just the thought turns him on a little #oc fic #oc talk #Idk what to tag this as tbh #original work #original fiction #Price does kill the poor sod #Witch does some improvised poppet magic and also just wrecks a bitch

[lostfirefly]

Baby, baby when you're looking deep in my eyes, I know you're seeing past my make-up

I know everyone has a story like this, but I decided to write my version too. I also have the same theme planned for my OC, but it will be a completely different tone. English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :)

Buggy and F/GN Reader - Masterlist is here.

Description: Buggy asks you to help him apply makeup.

Words: 2524

Taglist: @gingernut1314, @operationroots

The title is taken from “All That I Got (The Make Up Song)” by Fergie.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Captain Buggy, the love of my life, I was on deck now and one of your freaks handed over some kind of box.” You entered your shared cabin and froze at the doorway. 

“Nine, ten. And a couple more for luck.” Buggy was wearing only pajama pants and doing push-ups with his fists. “Eleven. Twelve. Four times twelve, I'm still pretty good.” 

“Geeez! You should've warned me about this. I walk into the cabin, and there’s such a sexy picture. You’re half naked and doing push-ups.” You smiled and raised your eyebrows.

 “Like what you see, huh?” He chuckled. 

“I don’t just like it, I’m delighted! My love, the box.” You shook the package slightly.

“Wait. I'll do three more push-ups. One. Two. Three.” Buggy stood up from the floor. “The seduction program is completed, right, pumpkin?” He kissed you on the forehead. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“I love you, bastard! How did it happen that you took me to your ship? I remember my mother was screaming, “Y/N, he's a clown, stop, what are you doing”, while you grabbed the essentials from my closet and then carried me up the stairs on your shoulder.” You kissed Buggy on his cheek.

“See? I liked you.” Buggy wrapped one arm around your waist, and lightly poked your nose with his other arm’s finger. “I came.” Poked again. “And got you.” Poked again. “It's simple.”  

“Yes, just like a real pirate!” You giggled. 

“Hey, I’m a real pirate! We are on my ship, Y/N. I have my own flag and the crew.” 

“Oh, I'm sorry, my love!” You rolled your eyes theatrically. “How could I forget? The scariest crew in the whole world! And you are the most formidable of all the pirates! And you will definitely become the king of the pirates, and you will be feared in all parts of the world. But until that happens, look at the package. The new boy with grey hair who joined your crew a few days ago gave it to me. Said it was sent by some bearded guy.”

“Oh, this is my new set of cosmetics.” Buggy grabbed the box from your hands. “Listen, no one has seen or knows that I’m without... well... without makeup.” 

“No, I made sure no one saw.” You pecked him on his nose. “You know, this is even great. Can you imagine that I’m the only person in the world who sees you without makeup in the morning? I’m the happiest girl. Open up!” You clapped your hands. “I want to see what's there!”

Buggy plopped down on the bed and opened the box. You sat on his lap, began stroking his back and kissed his temple. 

“What's here? Shadows, powder, eyeliners. Lord, why do you need 50 lipsticks?” Your eyes rounded.

“We won’t be able to moor in the near future. I need supplies.” Buggy was taking cosmetics out of a box. 

“But not fifty lipsticks, Buggy!”

“I need this, because one cute pumpkin uses my cosmetics too.” He took one of the tubes out of the box. “Look! New mascara! Waterproof! So if I fall into the water, I'll at least partially remain handsome!” 

“I won’t let you fall into the water! I still need you in this life.” You took the mascara and twirled in your hands. 

“Okay, I need to go out on deck and go check on the fucking crew. But first I need to do my makeup.” Buggy looked at you and winked. “Can you help me, pumpkin?”

“With great pleasure, my love!” You kissed him on his lips. “I’m the luckiest girl. And you made me this, remember that.” 

Buggy stood up from the bed, holding you in his arms, and carried you to the dressing table. It was a huge wooden table with a large mirror and several bright lamps located around the perimeter of the table.

“I love doing this, to be honest!” You said happily. “Watching my Buggy turn into Buggy the Clown, but even under a layer of makeup I see the real you!” 

You stood up from his lap, took his makeup bag, placed it on the table and rubbed your hands. “Let's start! First the white powder.” You took a round black box and a large fluffy sponge. “Close your eyes!”

Buggy widened his eyes. “How should I look at you? No, pumpkin! It doesn’t work like that!” 

“Holy moly!” You rolled your eyes and threw up your hands. “It's starting again! Close your eyes, I'll try to make it faster.” 

“Okay! But I hope that when I open them, you'll be naked.” Buggy smiled widely. 

You dipped the sponge into the powder and began to gently apply it to his face. “Ouch, Buggy! Stop pinching my butt!”

“Sorry, Y/N, I couldn't resist. You're seducing me with your clothes.” He moved his hands to your tailbone.

“I can't seduce you! I'm wearing jeans overalls, Buggy! And I look like a garden gnome.” You said, continued applying the powder. 

“Have you seen yourself? This is one hell of a jumpsuit. Your ass looks fucking amazing in it!” Buggy clicked his tongue. 

“Asshole! Don't distract me!” You bit your tongue and tried to stay focused, running the sponge over his face. “And there you go... Done! Now for the eyeliner.” 

You picked up the black tube, unscrewed the cap, and carefully looked at the brush. You examined Buggy’s face from all sides, choosing the best angle of the light. “Oh, there! Don't open your eyes!”

“Have you undressed yet, baby?” 

“God, you're unbearable sometimes. Don't move!” You started to run the brush along his lash line when your hand twitched. “Stop pinching my butt! Otherwise, I'll poke you in the eye one day.” 

“Oh, if you will be naked at the same time, I’m not against such sacrifices.” Buggy smirked and opened his eyes. 

“Close your eyes! You saw me naked at night, calm down!” You squinted and drew a thin black line with eyeliner. 

“It was a long time ago, Y/N. I’ve already forgotten everything.” Buggy exhaled sadly and stretched his back a little.

“That was two hours ago, Buggy! Sit still!” You ran the eyeliner over his other eye and carefully examined the result of the work. “It turns out beautifully! Why is that all? Because I have a handsome canvas.” You pecked him on the lips, and he visibly blushed. “My Captain got embarrassed.” You giggled. “What's next? Bones or eye shadow? Let's draw bones.” 

You picked up a pencil, white paint and a sponge, and sat on his lap. “It will be more convenient.” You wrinkled your forehead and nose slightly. 

“This is too much, Y/N! Why are you doing this?” Buggy opened his eyes and placed his hands on your waist.  

“I do nothing.” You bit your bottom lip and began to trace the outline of the bones. "I'm just drawing." 

"You're sitting on me, biting your lips. It's kind of a turn on." 

“What's wrong with you today? You can't calm down.” You gently ran the brush down to his eyebrows. “Eyes, Buggy.”

“I'm a dirty pirate, pumpkin!” Buggy closed his eyes and began to lower his hands to your hips. “I never calm down.” 

“Yes, I noticed. Sit still, please!” You slowly began to move the brush from his eyebrows to below. “You have wrinkles. I like it.” You dipped the brush into the jar and felt Buggy’s hands begin to stroke your thighs. “If you don’t stop doing this now, I will tear off your hands and put them in the chest. Sit still, otherwise everything will be crooked. I can’t allow the captain to come on deck with crooked makeup. The ocean is calm and we can’t blame the storm.” You slapped his hands and continued drawing. “Hah, a little more and I will be able to do all this with my eyes closed.”

You grabbed his chin with one hand and turned his head in different directions. “Looks good. Look.”

Buggy opened his eyes and made a displeased face. 

“What's happened?” You asked, looking from his face to the mirror. 

“Not what I wanted. The bones should be bigger, Y/N. What is this? It looks more like the bones of a fucking dead quail than part of a Jolly Roger.” Buggy looked at his reflection in the mirror. 

“Oh, my God. How much more?” You rolled your eyes. “Should I draw something all over your face? I did bones as usual.” 

“No, not as usual. It’s different.” Buggy made a sad face. 

“Okay. Now I'll redo it a little.” You growled, erased the ends of the bones, and began drawing again. “Buggy! Stop it!”

“I do nothing!” He shrugged, answering calmly. 

“You're stroking my neck. Don't distract me, asshole.” You drew an outline for a larger drawing.

“It’s not me. It’s you sitting beautifully on me.” 

“You are unbearable.” You ran the brush a little more and squinted. “Look now, capricious boy. Are you happy now?” 

Buggy looked in the mirror for a long time, tilting his head now to the right, now to the left. “Now it is better.” 

“Hurray for me! Now I’ll cover them up for you and start working on the shadows.”  You dipped the sponge into the white paint and began to paint over the bones, humming softly. “It’s getting better and better. If you hadn't been fidgeting and pawing me, the whole process wouldn't have taken so long. Little mischievous boy.” You kissed his nose. 

“I'm not a little boy. Little boys don't do what we did this morning.” Buggy giggled idiotically and placed his hands on your waist. “That was so-o-o good! I like hearing your voice screaming my name loudly.” 

“Shit, I hope no one on the crew heard me.” You carefully ran the sponge over the white layer of paint again. 

“Fuck them! Let them hear. I’m the captain, and even if anyone says anything bad about you, I’ll throw him overboard.” Buggy wrapped his arms around your waist and looked at your concentrated face. 

“Thank you, my formidable protector.” You pecked him on the lips. “I love you!” You looked at his forehead again. “Okay, I'm done with the bones. Now for the shadows. ” You took a box of blue shadows and a brush. “Oh, I remember how at the beginning of our relationship, you were dying of jealousy when I helped your entire crew with makeup.”

“I wasn't dying of jealousy. I just didn't like it.” Buggy slowly rubbed your back. 

“Close your eyes. I'll draw you your blue things.” You looked down at him and saw him shaking his head negatively. “You don't want to close your pretty eyes? But you have to, Buggy. I promise, when you open them, I’ll be here.” 

Buggy exhaled sadly, closed his eyes and raised his head a little.

“Up, down. Wider here, narrower here. Blue here and here” You lowered the brush into the shadows and continued applying them to his face. “The perfect combination with the color of your eyes and hair. What are your plans for the evening? If you won't be too tired, maybe we will sit on the deck with wine and will look at the stars? I love it when we spend our evenings like this.” 

“Sounds great.” He slightly nodded. “Moreover, I bought you some bottles of wine when we landed on the island.” 

“Thank you, my love!” You pecked his lips again. “Done! So. Look. Do you like it?” 

Buggy squinted and looked at himself in the mirror for a long time. “Not bad.” He exhaled.

“You don't like it, right?”  You stroked his hair. 

“Well, Y/N.. You know, it all needs to be brighter.” 

“But it's still so bright, Buggy.” You looked in the mirror and then at his face.

“Not bright enough, pumpkin.” Buggy shrugged.

You glanced at his upset face. “Okay. I'll fix it now.” You stood up from his lap and began rummaging through his makeup bag. “Where is the glitter? I can't find it.”

“I moved it to the second drawer from the bottom yesterday.” He pointed to the drawer.

“Ok.” You leaned over, heard a giggle from behind you, and glanced at him. “Did you do this on purpose, clown? Did you purposely move the jars down so I could bend over, and you could look at my ass?” 

“Yeah.” He nodded contentedly, without a trace of regret on his face. 

“Idiot!” You laughed and shook your head. 

“What? You have a nice ass, Y/N and I like looking at it.”

You found the glitter and sat back on his lap. “You're lucky we're far out to sea and I can't escape from you.” 

“So that’s why I took you far out to sea so that you couldn’t escape from me.” Buggy hugged you and kissed you on the lips. “It was a strategic move, baby.” 

You rolled your eyes and dipped your brush into the glitter. “Now I will make my bright and handsome clown even brighter and more handsome. One. Two. Three. Look. What do you think?”

“Perfect, Y/N.” He snapped his fingers.

“And now, mascara.” You took the mascara in your hands, unscrewed the cap and looked carefully at the brush. You carefully placed your fingers on his cheekbones, pursed your lips and swiped mascara over his eyelashes several times. “Now your beautiful eyes look more expressive. Okay, we only have lips left.” You took his makeup bag and took out lipstick from there. You unscrewed the cap and unscrewed the lipstick spout. “Put your sweet lips closer to me.” 

“I heard something similar this morning from myself.” Buggy chuckled again. 

“Shut up, idiot.” You swiped the lipstick over his lips a few time. You set it aside and running your fingers across his lips, beginning to smear it around his mouth. “Damn, I think I overdid with lipstick today. See?” You showed him your red hand, which was smeared with a thick layer. 

“Oh, I know a way to deal with this!” Buggy hugged you tighter and pressed his lips to yours. You just squeaked something through the kiss, lightly patted him on the shoulder, but realizing that he wouldn’t stop, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yes, that's much better.” You answered quietly, wiping your lips. 

Buggy looked at you, exhaled heavily and buried the top of his head into your chest. 

“What's wrong, my love?” You stroked his head. 

“Nothing, Y/N. I’m gathering strength for the day. I don’t want to go anywhere, but...” He muttered under his breath. 

“Captain’s affairs won’t take care of themselves.” You said quietly. 

Buggy nodded silently. You got up from his lap, watched him get dressed, periodically glancing at you. 

You helped him with the bandana and kissed him before leaving. “If you feel sad in the middle of the day, just find me. I’ll hug you, and you’ll feel better, agreed?” 

Buggy nodded and kissed the top of your head. 

“Have a nice day, my Captain Buggy. I love you!” You stroked his shoulders. 

“I love you too, Y/N.”

#one piece #buggy the clown #buggy live action #one piece live action #buggy one piece #opla buggy the clown #buggy fanfiction #buggy fic #opla buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #buggy x female reader #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy x reader

[penny00dreadful]

The Parting Glass

Hey I've been through some shit the last few weeks so let's do Christmas the Irish way. By making it ✨miserable✨ and putting Eddie through situations. But with a hopeful ending.

Just as a note of warning, this fic contains death, funerals and Eddie working through his grief. It was originally devised as a part of this fun little challenge and then... welp, I used it to process. 😅

The prompts I got were: Eddie arrives to town recently single to inherit something, Steve lives in the town and is a famous musician (but not here). Eddie falls in love with the holidays, the town and some guy. I'll be honest these prompts got away from me so they're not followed exactly.

AO3

For my granddad.

It was nearly Christmas and Eddie was driving back to Hawkins for the second time in two weeks.

He was alone. 

Again. 

And for good this time.

The last time, when he had come back when Wayne was sick and not getting any better, he wasn’t supposed to be on his own.

In the days leading up to it, Jack had been in his ear the entire time.

“I’ll be there for you.”

“I won’t let you go through this alone.”

“You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I’ll support you the whole way.”

All over the phone. It couldn’t be helped. Eddie was a writer, he could work from literally anywhere. Or at least anywhere that had an internet connection. Even then, he might not need that. Just a post box. 

Jack was back home in their apartment that Eddie had bought them with his first big paycheck.

Eddie had called to tell him that Wayne had passed, numb and monotone and not really fully registering just what that meant. That he was gone. Like gone-gone. 

Forever.

He wasn’t just gonna… open his eyes again and start talking. He wasn’t gonna go back home, or sit in his armchair or shout at the tv or lie in his own bed one last time… And… What about his mugs? He… Wayne had so many mugs, what was gonna happen to them? He loved those mugs.

And Jack had said he’d be there. He’d promised.

And then he wasn’t.

Because something had come up at work or he thought he was coming down with something or he hadn’t got enough sleep the night before and didn’t feel safe making the drive and he felt really bad about it, just a steady stream of excuses but also- that was it.

I feel really bad about it. Full stop. No attempt to say, I’ll make it up to you. Or even just the bare minimum of I’ll try my best to be there no matter what.

And like a flash in the pan Eddie went from devastated to angry to just cold acceptance. 

“Fine.” He’d grit out over the phone, feeling simultaneously broken hearted and fucking indignant. Because, yes, it was a little selfish to feel like Jack should have thrown all that to the side to be here with him. But his fucking family had just died. He was allowed to be a little selfish.

Eddie needed him there.

Didn’t just want him there, he needed him there.

But instead he had to go through it all, alone.

He was on his own just before Christmas, trying to organise a funeral for the only family he had.

He didn’t have much time to think straight. He resolved to put it all out of his mind until this was all over because Wayne deserved his attention right now.

Eddie had expected it to be small and quiet if he was being honest with himself. Wayne had been a man who kept to himself and all he had was Eddie.

He was just thankful the local funeral home wasn’t completely decked out in tinsel and lights and trees. It was going to be hard enough as it was without a constant reminder of the time of year.

Quiet and subdued, with just a few stragglers, as depressing as that was. He could handle that right?

But then the people started turning up at the funeral home and they just didn’t stop. 

The entire trailer park came out to see him, even Mrs. Cartwright, who was stone deaf and half blind with a bad hip, shuffled into the room on the arm of another of the neighbours, a red headed young woman, to offer her condolences. Then there were Wayne’s coworkers from the plant, the farmers he’d talk to in the pub, his fantasy football league, childhood friends that he hadn’t spoken to in years but still wanted to pay their respects, teachers from the school, store workers, the nurses who looked after him. Eddie’s own friends, the Corroded Coffin boys, the Hellfire kids, Rick, even some of his most loyal customers from back in his dealing days. 

It kept going, just floods and floods of people young and old passing through the room to pay their respects, offer their condolences and shake Eddie’s hand.

He was completely overwhelmed. By the end of it, his hand was fucking sore, his throat was raw and if he lingered on the thought any longer, of how many people had shown up for his uncle, had loved him, he’d start crying all over again, even though he was pretty sure he’d run dry.

Jeff, Gareth and Grant hung around for hours after they’d been through the procession once, waiting for a moment to talk to him and ask if he wanted them to stay with him for the rest of the funeral and after. For as long as he was back in Hawkins.

It went unspoken that Eddie had been in that room alone and they were trying to save him from that, so he took them up on the offer. Stood with his oldest friends that he really should have spoken to more over the years while Wayne was lowered into the ground.

They took him out for a few drinks afterwards but Eddie didn’t have it in him to make it a whole night thing. He was exhausted, but he promised to stay in better contact. 

When it all was said and done, Eddie found it incredibly difficult to get into the car and drive back.

He didn’t want to leave Wayne here alone.

He didn’t want to be states away anymore.

He wanted to be home. In this shitty little small town that he had hated growing up in but was such an important part of his life, that was familiar and sedentary and fucking quaint and most importantly had a memory of Wayne in every single corner.

Jack would never go for it.

But now that Eddie was on his own, in the car, it gave him a lot of time to stew on just how long he’d been on his own already.

Eddie loved fast and Eddie loved hard. If someone gained his trust or his loyalty, he would do anything for them. It would be a very, very hard thing for someone to lose. But it also made him incredibly blind to their flaws.

This wasn’t the first time Jack had pulled out of something at the last second. And most of the time it was just because he didn’t want to do whatever it was, regardless of if he had made promises about it. 

And Eddie had let it go each and every time before because, well, it was fine. He got over it and it wasn’t that big of a deal.

But he had needed Jack there this time. And he’d done it all alone.

If the situations were reversed, Eddie would have crawled on his belly through broken fucking glass to be where Jack needed him and nothing less than an explicit “I don’t want you there” would have deterred him.

And when he got back to their apartment and Jack had turned to him with a sympathetic, “How was it?” Eddie fucking lost it.

He’d screamed so loud and with so much anger and devastation, the neighbours called the cops and again Eddie was on his own trying to explain what had happened while Jack just shuffled around in the background looking vaguely guilty and shell shocked, muttering “You never told me you wanted me there” when the cops finally left.

And Eddie was just fucking done. He was broken. It was finished. 

“I didn’t think I had to. My family died. And you had been telling me the entire time that you’d be there. You told me you’d be there for me. And then you just weren’t.”

So that was it. 

Eddie couldn’t stand to be in that city anymore. Anonymous and lonely and fucking claustrophobic. Couldn’t stand to be in the apartment with its white Christmas lights and expensive baubles and store bought charm without an inch of personality because it “looks prettier this way.”

The fucking cushions that couldn’t be used to prop up his back because he’d squish the filling and the throws that were there for decoration, placed perfectly, giving the apartment the impression of lived in warmth without any actual emotion in it.

He sold the apartment to Jack, waiting for the heartbreak of the end of a years long relationship to finally hit him. But it never did.

Maybe his emotions were all worn out and it would hit him properly later.

The same way he knew he still hadn’t fully registered that Wayne was gone yet.

So.

Now he was here.

Standing in the cold of the trailer park, his breath fogging up in front of him, snow crushed underneath his boots and night blanketing him. He had a box of stuff in his arms, rooted to the ground between his still warm car and the dark and shadowed front door, thinking hysterically for a moment that he hadn’t asked Wayne if he could move back in.

But he couldn’t, of course he couldn’t, Wayne was gone and he wasn’t coming back and Eddie had no way of contacting him in the fucking afterlife if there even was one to ask if he could turn up on his doorstep again in almost the exact same way he had nearly fifteen years ago.

Wayne would have probably given him a light smack over the back of the head and told him he was always welcome, no matter the circumstances.

Still. 

It felt wrong to just assume he could be here without checking in with him first.

He could hear his voice in his head, could almost see him standing silhouetted in the warm glow of the doorway, looking soft and worn in. “Get your ass in here son, before you freeze to death.”

Eddie blinked and the door was closed and dark and empty again. There was no noise coming from inside the trailer, no sound of the tv going, no smells of cooking, no heat, no light.

It was an empty shell.

The glow of the other trailers surrounded him, the small muffled noises of life going on inside each and every one, warm yellows spilling out of their windows or multicoloured lights lining their roofs or their porches, Mariah Carey singing her heart out somewhere in the distance.

“No one ever tells you the front door is one of the hardest parts.”

Eddie jumped, whipping his head around to find the same redheaded woman standing off to the side, bundled up in a thick homemade scarf and puffer jacket, her hands in her pockets and winter boots unlaced, like she'd just thrown them on, the grooves in the snow behind her telling him she’d walked to him from somewhere across the park.

Eddie squeezed the box a little tighter to himself, finally feeling the biting cold through his fingers.

“Yeah. I-” he swallowed, looking up at the door again. “How long have I been standing here?”

He could hear the snow crunching under her boots as she came closer. “I don’t know.” Fabric rustled somewhere beside him as she shrugged. “Mrs. Cartwright only told me you were out here a few minutes ago. I dunno how she even noticed, she can barely see five foot in front of her face.”

Eddie turned to the trailer he remembered the old lady living in to see her sitting by the window, squinting out into the snow. She offered him a toothless smile and a little wave when she saw the two of them looking back.

He was just about able to unstick his hand from the box to wave back.

“And you’re her-?”

“Neighbour. But I check in on her as often as I can. She’s good company.” 

“Oh.”

The two of them stood there, in the cold, in the snow, just looking at each other and Eddie could feel the spectre of the dark and empty trailer looming over him. Before this redhead turned up, he could have conceivably turned back, gotten into the car and found a motel room or something for the night. This might have all been easier to face in the daytime.

But now he’d been seen, he was trapped and he couldn’t escape. He wasn’t sure if he could do it.

“When my mom died,” the woman said, coming around to face him, “I just kinda switched off. I was on autopilot for a lot of the time but my first day back at the trailer after the burial, I couldn’t go inside. She wasn’t in there anymore. Same as you, I don’t know how long I was out there before Steve came and found me.”

“You’re Max.” Eddie said, his brain finally putting the pieces together. “Wayne talked about you.”

Max’s face broke out into a wide delighted grin. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Eddie smiled back. “He said you never wore your helmet when you were skateboarding.”

She snorted. “Yeah. And the one time he finally convinced me to, I took a hell of a tumble. Broke my-”

“Leg, I think it was?”

“Nah, man.” Max shook her head. “Not just my leg, I broke my damn femur. Strongest bone in the body and snap.” She clapped her gloved hands together, muffling what should have surely been a hard impact. “With six months of therapy to go along with it. Got me into the job I’m in today, though.”

“He said you’re a physical therapist?”

“Yup. And he said you’re a writer.”

Eddie nodded.

“Well then, Writer Eddie Munson. How do you feel about the front door now?”

He looked back up, finding that it wasn’t quite as intimidating as it had been before.

“A little better.”

“Good. I’m glad. Can I give you a hand?”

“Oh, uh-” he looked back down at the box in his hand, flexing his fingers around the keychain he still had hanging off his thumb. “Yeah, actually. If you don’t mind.”

Max nodded, stepping forward and taking the box from him. Eddie gave her a small smile before squaring his shoulders and facing the door once more and stepping up towards the porch before he could stop himself.

Amongst his set of similar shaped keys, he easily found the one to the trailer, the same one he had cut out of a black blank when he was younger and so edgy.

With a deep breath he slipped it into the lock and turned, feeling it catch like it always did halfway through and jostling it in a way that was so familiar from years of doing the same thing, it hit him like a truck.

He swallowed down hard as he gestured Max in, switching the lights on.

It didn’t smell like Wayne anymore. Not really. It had been weeks since anyone had been inside. But the memory of the smell was there. 

It was freezing, an empty shell of a building that had been left to hold its ghosts. The pipes were probably frozen through too, but he and Wayne had handled that plenty of times before, this would be nothing new. 

Everything of Waynes was still here. His boots were by the door, his jackets were hung up, his mugs lined the walls. The remote was on the floor next to his recliner, like it had been accidentally nudged off of the arm and hadn’t been picked up yet.

It was like Wayne had just stepped out, or was hiding in another room.

Eddie could feel his heart start to crumble just a little more.

The two of them got his boxes and bags unpacked from his car and into the trailer in silence. He was pretty sure Max knew that he was just waiting for her to leave so he could break down in peace but even so, she turned to face him after placing the last box down.

“You can say no.” She said, hands back in her pockets. “But a few friends are flying in on Thursday and we’re going to meet up at Cathy’s. You’re welcome to come if you’re feeling up for it.”

Cathy’s pub, Wayne used to go there all the time. The actual name of the place was The Attic, but no one called it that, everyone called it Cathy’s. As much of an Irish pub as one could get out in Hawkins without actually being an Irish Pub. It just happened to be run by an Irish woman who refused to entertain four leaf clovers and green pints and had kicked people out in the past for calling it ‘Patty’s Day’ instead of ‘Paddy’s Day.’

Eddie nodded at her, his eyes already starting to mist up from everything settling around his shoulders.

“Thanks.” He sniffled. “I’ll think about it.”

She offered him a gentle smile and said her goodbyes, not lingering around when he so clearly wanted to be on his own.

He watched through the window as Max carved a path through the snow back to Mrs. Cartwright’s trailer, before closing his eyes, taking a deep breath and starting to unpack.

Last night had been one of the roughest nights of Eddie’s entire life.

He’d only managed to switch the electric heater on and open one box before the silence got to him.

He’d switched on the tv and had to flip channels for far too long before he found what he was looking for because he didn’t know where the sports channels were hidden away, he’d never wanted or needed to look for them before.

But having the trailer filled with the sound of sports commentators and the crowds in the stadium and an obscene amount of advertisements was enough to make him crack.

He’d ended up in a ball on the floor, crying so much he felt like he’d never stop, breathing so hard he felt himself getting lightheaded.

Every time the tears subsided and he had started to get a handle on himself, he saw something that would start the cycle all over again. The Garfield mug, Wayne’s favourite winter hat, the stash of red vines he kept hidden beside his armchair, a habit he got into and never got out of when they were living together to keep them away from Eddie’s sweet-tooth.

By the time Eddie had pulled himself up to curl into the couch, he had a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a nest of Wayne’s clothes surrounding him, the smell just barely lingering. 

He drank himself into a stupor.

The morning after was equally rough but in an entirely different way. When he was woken up by the sound of daytime life outside the trailer door, bleary and foggy, he recognised his surroundings before anything else. 

“Wayne?” He’d called, half expecting to turn to find him in his armchair, the sounds of the sports channel still filling in the space of the room. 

But then he remembered. 

All over again he remembered.

He was barely able to do anything for himself that day. Most of it was spent staring off into space, waiting for things to get better, like everyone always said it would. Waiting for the pain to dull and to be able to function again. 

He stood in the doorway of what had been Wayne’s bedroom and then his own and became Wayne’s again once he moved out.

He never thought he’d be back here, moving back into this exact same bedroom all over again. 

He didn’t sleep in the bed that night. Or the night after. 

He couldn’t. Not yet.

He had managed to get the water running, so that was a plus and by the time he had some of his stuff unpacked the trailer no longer looked like a warehouse full of boxes, but instead looked like a cluttered and messy home.

He didn’t have the strength to move any of Wayne’s things, so his own stuff just kind of existed in corners or on countertops and it was fine.

Everything was fine.

This was his life now.

This was what he wanted.

It was fine.

Snow was starting to swirl around him as he stood outside Cathy’s, slowly accumulating in his hair and building up around his boots as the warm light and laughter inside seeped out of the building. 

There were twinkling multi-colored lights lining the outside and glittering through the fogged up windows and Eddie could see inside was decorated with green garlands draped from every available surface, red, gold and silver baubles woven in throughout and topped off with a healthy smattering of tinsel.

It was the most inviting thing he had seen recently and he ached to go inside. It was just so full of memories.

But he was stuck. 

Rooted to the spot like he had been outside the trailer door a few days ago.

Wayne would have loved all of this. 

He loved Christmas. 

He loved Christmas late nights at Cathy’s.

And it was only really then, when he’d been so painfully aware of it in the back of his mind for the last few weeks, that this was going to be the first Christmas he had to endure without Wayne. 

“Eddie?”

Well, no running now. 

But it wasn’t Max this time.

“Eddie Munson, my god. Is that really you?”

Eddie turned and was met by the sight of someone he hadn’t seen in the longest time.

“Chris?”

Chrissy Cunningham was standing in front of him in all her short and bright glory with a blinding smile on her face. Something deep in him warmed under her gaze. They hadn’t been friends for very long before they both skipped town in opposite directions, not to mention the ill-fated crushes they had both quietly harboured for each other once upon a time, but that was never gonna work out.

Even so, a friendly face he recognised was just what he needed right now. Someone to help him brace everything in front of him through those doors. The Wayne of it all. And the terror of potentially being introduced to a whole group of people as a new outsider, in mourning, no less.

A loud burst of laughter rang out from inside as they looked at each other and Eddie felt something fizzle and settle gently in his chest. 

In a tiny little moment, they clicked again, still friends after all this time, no matter the distance.

Chrissy looked at him, a thousand emotions passing through her eyes as she worked through what she was going to say. She had definitely heard about Wayne’s death. Wayne had taken her in on more than one occasion when her mother had gotten to be too much.

Eddie had to get his ability to collect strays from somewhere, after all.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. By the time I heard I couldn’t get a flight in time and I should have been here for you.”

“It’s okay.” he smiled at her. And it was okay, really. 

She wormed her hand in between his elbow and his side where they were clenched tight from the cold, looping her arm through.  “I’ll stick with you the whole night if you want me to.”

Eddie’s whole body sagged in relief, not knowing he needed to hear it until he did. 

“Please.”

Chrissy nodded, a steely look of determination on her face and their arms held tight together as they pushed their way inside.

The warm glow and homely smells hit him immediately and he felt his shoulders loosen even more. It was loud inside but not unbearable, the sounds of conversation mingling in with the speakers softly playing out a mix of traditional Irish music and what had to be some Christmas best hits album. 

Eddie dragged his eyes across the bar, while Chrissy looked around at the people sitting at various tables and booths. 

“Are you looking for anyone in particular?” He asked.

“I only just flew in today. I’m supposed to be meeting up with a number of- oh! There they are.”

She pointed towards the back by the fire that Cathy had put in, claiming it couldn’t be a proper pub without a fire. The series of tables were all pushed a little closer to each other, overflowing with people and Eddie had to blink at them a few times, realising there were definitely a few familiar faces grinning back at him and waving the two of them over.

The first person he recognised was Max, her bright red hair standing out amongst the sea of browns and chestnuts and blacks. It was then that his eye was drawn around the table and saw his Corroded Coffin boys and the Hellfire kids looking back at him. 

Damn, he’d forgotten to tell the boys about his impulsive move back here. He hadn’t really told anyone about it apart from Jack. But they didn’t seem to hold it against him. It was plain as day on their faces that they knew he might not exactly be doing things logically right about now.

And then there were the Hellfire kids. 

Or he supposed he could hardly call them kids anymore. 

They would all be somewhere in their mid-twenties at this stage and wasn’t that just a mind trip?

They all stood to greet Chrissy and himself, hugs and pats on the back all around, the Hellfire kids and Max introducing one of the few truly unfamiliar faces amongst the bunch, El. Another woman he vaguely recognised gave him a small wave but eventually he realised who she was, because this was a small town and everyone at least knew of everyone in one way or the other. 

Robin Buckley, from band.

What a strange mix of people.

She and Chrissy shared a long look with each other, eventually revealing that Robin was her long term girlfriend.

Eddie nodded along, told her it was nice to meet her but couldn’t help the taste of bitterness that rose up in his throat when he looked at the two of them, not being able to remember the last time he had been out with Jack and feeling like his company was enjoyed and Jack wasn’t just waiting to go home with or without him. 

It had barely been a week since they had broken up but the loneliness had been there for a while. 

He had only just managed to get his coat and scarf off before Cathy appeared at their table, a drink in each hand.

“Eddie, darling.” She said, placing the two drinks down in front of him and scooping him up into a hug. “It’s so good to see you back home, love.”

She was an older woman, warm and wrinkled and soft, smelling vaguely of cigarette smoke and perfume in a mix that shouldn’t have been as comforting as it was.

“Thanks, Cathy.” He muttered into her neck, pulling back away only to find his face in her hands. 

“If you need anything at all, you know where to find me, right?”

He gave her a shaky smile, not really sure what to do with himself, he could feel everyone else at the table watching them.

“Yeah.”

“Good boy.” She grinned back at him, petting his cheek before gesturing down at the drinks she dropped off at the table.

“This is for you, love. On the house.” She pointed at the beer bottle. “And this one,” she rested her hand next to the glass of whiskey, neat. Wayne’s drink. “It’s tradition. One last tipple for your dear uncle. And none of you,” she whipped around, pointing an accusing finger at everyone in the booth, “are to touch it.”

They all stared up at her wide eyed and nodded while she turned her smile back on Eddie. “You take care of yourself, now. You hear me?”

“I’ll do my best.” He gave her a short salute and she rolled her eyes at him in a good natured way before turning and heading back to the bar.

Eddie swept his eyes over the pub, hoping to get an idea of how much of a scene had been made, as quiet as they had been tucked away in their corner. But before he could take a proper inventory, the doors were pushed open and even from the back of the pub Eddie could feel the cold following in the figure's wake.

The newcomer brushed the snow out of his hair and stomped his shoes out before flashing a smile at Cathy and weaving his way through the tables towards them.

He was almost offensively pretty, his cheeks, nose and lips rosy from the cold, unwinding a scarf from around his neck, giving Eddie a glance at a spattering of moles across his skin. He ran a hand through his hair again, trying to get out the last of the snow.

He looked so familiar. 

It had been a long ten or so years since they'd seen each other, but it couldn’t be. 

Could it?

“Hi, sorry I’m late, I-”

“Harrington?”

Steve Harrington stopped short, standing in front of him, staring at him with cheeks getting slightly redder.

“Eddie.” He said, a little breathlessly, running his hand through his hair again, but it seemed to be more from nerves this time. “Hi.”

Oh, so they were on first name terms? Okay, he could deal with that. 

Except that maybe he couldn’t deal with it, because his childhood Big Gay Crush was standing in front of him, smiling at him and looking like he’d just been beamed out of the campest Christmas movie in existence, the warm glow of the Christmas lights and the fire dancing across his skin, bundled up in a dark red sweater and his hair was somehow still perfect.

But he was saved from having to respond as the group started shuffling around to greet him, Robin reaching out to pull him into a tight hug, like they hadn’t seen each other in ages.

Eddie moved back, sitting down at a stool at the edge of the tables, next to Chrissy and across from Robin and Steve who were whispering fiercely to each other, Robin explaining the whiskey on the table wasn’t to be touched and sending what they must have thought were subtle nods in his direction and well, he wasn’t sure what else he expected from tonight.

Apparently he was a local spectacle now.

But still, his boys were here, the Hellfire kids were here, Chrissy was here, he had plenty of people available to him to distract himself from Steve sitting directly across from him.

He had only managed to get halfway through the drink Cathy had brought him before he was approached again, this time by an older man who he recognised as one of the guys on Wayne’s shift.

He placed a fresh drink down in front of Eddie and told him Wayne was a good man, that the world was a little dimmer for his passing and he was a hell of a baseball player back in the day, could throw a ball at speed like no one he had ever seen since.

Eddie smiled and listened as the guy spoke, the clear affection and joy he had for his uncle warming his heart.

It was barely ten minutes after that guy had gone back to his own group that Eddie was approached again, another drink placed down in front of him and more sympathies and stories of Wayne’s past gifted to him from people who had known him.

It went on like that throughout the whole night, a steadily revolving door of people coming to talk to him about his uncle. 

Stories of the stupid and dangerous shit they had gotten up to in their childhoods, stories of cow tipping (which Eddie had heard from Wayne’s own mouth was a bold faced lie but a fun one to tell), tractor racing (which he had not heard about) and one time Wayne had been chased out of Farmer Dan’s barn by the man himself wielding a shotgun, convinced he’d been corrupting his daughter.

Stories of nights playing poker, learning to never ever trust his poker face, his abysmal luck when it came to his fantasy football teams and how much he loved to get a bit of drink in him and sing at the top of his lungs, which Cathy always humoured, often joining in.

Almost as if she had been summoned, Cathy appeared at his other side.

“Will we have a little sing-song for your uncle, love?”

Eddie looked up at her and thought about it. To hear the accented and cracking old voices singing along to the songs that just seemed to live in pubs like these would probably hurt, but it would be like lancing a wound. 

It would sting but it would be healing.

“Yeah.” He said. “I don’t see why not.”

“Would you do us the honours, then?”

Eddie felt his eyes go wide. He was never really much of a singer. “Oh. No,” he blushed, shaking his head, “I don’t think so, I’ll leave that up to the professionals.” He gestured around to the group of older men he had managed to collect as the night wore on. “If it’s one thing Wayne didn’t hand down to me, it was his singing voice.”

Cathy waved him off. “Oh nonsense, you have a lovely voice.”

He really didn’t.

“I really don’t.”

“We’ll be singing along with you anyway-”

“No, I’d rather not-”

“I could do it for you.”

Eddie turned to face Steve who was looking the least nervous that he had for the entire night, his gaze steady and confident, clearly comfortable in his singing ability. Robin was staring hard at the side of his head, like she was trying to beam thoughts directly into his brain. Eddie’s heart was thumping in his chest and he could feel his cheeks start to heat up, something he was pretty sure had little to do with the drink.

“You sing, Steve?”

Robin’s mouth ticked up at Eddie’s question though she tried to hide it, like she was harbouring a little secret.

“I’ve been known to.” Steve’s own lips curled up, shooting that tiny little smile Eddie’s way and-

Oh.

Oh shit.

Childhood Big Gay Crush, you’ve been upgraded to Current Big Gay Crush.

“Any requests?”

Eddie thought back. 

There was only one song that came to mind to kick them off.

Wayne had always loved a certain type of song to sing in the pubs and when Metallica came out with a cover of one of them, a cover of the Thin Lizzy version? It was solidified. 

It was their song, regardless of which version was being sung.

Now he just had to try to get through it without bursting into tears.

“Whiskey In The Jar.”

Steve smiled at him bright and blinding. “Thank god you didn’t say The Rattlin’ Bog.”

Eddie grinned back. “I couldn’t dump you in the deep-end like that, sweetheart.”

Cathay was practically bouncing with excitement and when Steve opened his mouth and started to sing, not a hint of bashfulness or embarrassment to be seen, it didn’t take long for Wayne’s friends to join in, singing and clapping along, stomping their feet and whooping. 

Eddie just sat and listened. Just for that one song. He could feel it settle around his heart and clog up his throat but he could handle it. Steve’s voice was smooth and clear, like it all came to him with zero effort, like he was born to it, the bastard.

Eddie was able to keep it together through that song and while the applause surrounded him and Steve was starting to field suggestions for more songs, the rest of their table started to join in, the energy of the pub becoming electric.

As the night wore on and Eddie was handed drink after drink, he found himself drifting right into the group, until he was in the middle, Steve’s arm stretched over the back of the booth behind them, squished in together as they were. They didn’t strictly need to be as pressed up against each other as they were, but neither of them were moving and Eddie would take his comforts where he could, listening to the voice vibrating from the body next to him.

Eddie was able to hold it together until they decided they’d do one last song and he knew he wasn’t going to survive it dry eyed.

Of all the money that ever I had,

I spent it in good company.

Steve had barely gotten through the first verse before the tears started, just a slow and quiet trickle but noticed immediately regardless.

Steve’s hand dropped from where it was at the back of the booth to land around Eddie’s shoulders, giving him a little squeeze while Chrissy took his hand, resting her head on his shoulder. 

Steve sang slow and unaccompanied, his voice ringing out clear and steady while Cathy and Wayne’s friends listened with heads hung low. He let the last notes fade out, keeping Eddie tucked in tight to his side as the applause rang out and everyone started making their moves to head home.

Even as Eddie had to go through the rigmarole of shaking hands and kissing cheeks, much drunker than he thought he was, Steve held onto him. He heard more than one of Wayne’s friends mutter “You take care of him, you hear?” or “Get him home safe” and each time Steve smiled and nodded, assuring them he would.

He didn’t know exactly when he had become Steve’s problem but he was too drunk to care, it was nice to be looked after for once.

Sunlight was spearing straight through his head. Someone hadn’t closed the blinds properly last night and now he was being assaulted by this world's version of Pelor in what had to be some kind of revenge for something terrible he must have done in a past life. 

Dragging his eyes around the trailer, he was thankful that he was on the couch. He hadn’t slept in Wayne’s bed since moving back here. He didn’t think he would be able to for a while yet. At least not until he started moving some of his stuff out and who knew how long that might take.

It didn’t feel right, taking Wayne out of his own bedroom for the second time in his life. 

But even so, he wondered which poor misfortune from the pub last night had been the one to deal with him and take him home, probably seeing the state things had been left in and the fact that he was clearly using the couch as a bed.

Maybe it had been Max. He kind of hoped it had been Max, he felt like she could probably relate the best, though Chrissy would have been kind about it too.

Eddie was able to drag himself up to sitting, still clad in his t-shirt and boxers, so at the very least, whoever had spilled him onto the couch last night didn’t get an accidental show.

There was something sticking in the back of his head that it could have been Steve who brought him home but that would be the most embarrassing eventuality of all so he just straight up ignored it, making his coffee as strong as humanly possible and dragging himself and the coffee into the shower. 

Today was gonna be… today was gonna be an inside day. He didn’t think he could stomach the outside world, all the brightness and snow and Christmas lights and festive cheer in mourning and hungover.

His trailer was the only one left in the park undecorated. He couldn’t…

He just couldn’t.

Not right now, anyway.

Maybe next year.

He and Wayne had always done it together. Even when Eddie had moved away from home, he’d make the drive back down at the start of December every year to help, staying the night and then going back to Jack for a couple of weeks then coming back again for the week of Christmas.

He-

Oh.

He was going to be completely alone this year.

He didn’t just not have Wayne. 

He didn’t have Jack either.

And no doubt, everyone who was back in town was back in town for their own reasons, to see their own friends and family, not to bring in a stray mourner who would undoubtedly bring the mood down. 

Well, that was fucking depressing. 

But it was fine.

He’d make himself a mountain of waffles and eat nothing but those all day and watch stupid horror movies and smoke himself into oblivion to avoid the destructive hangover and it would be fine. 

It would hardly be a Christmas but it would be fine.

A knock at the door made him blink and woke him up from his daily routine of staring off into space. He had finally found himself feeling somewhat human, at least physically. Dressed and dried and on his second round of coffee and first round of painkillers, standing in the doorway to Wayne’s bedroom again when the knock came.

He glanced between the front door and the bedroom, wondering if it was even worth it to see what salesperson or caroler was on the other end. They didn’t deserve his moody ambivalence, but whoever it was knocked again and maybe just the sight of him would be enough to scare them away.

He swung the door open and nearly closed it immediately when Steve looked up at him with a shy smile. 

He didn’t know if he could handle this right now. 

“Hi.” Steve said, his cheeks pink either from the cold or from embarrassment, Eddie wasn’t sure which. 

He was like… fifty percent sure that Steve might be, maybe, giving him some signals but also he got very, very drunk last night and he was pretty sure he remembered crying on someone’s shoulder after he got home too so, he was probably not the best judge of these things.

“Hi.” Eddie clutched his coffee cup tighter in his hand. “I’d invite you in, but I would rather you not see how I’m living right now.”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “I’ve already- nevermind.” He shook his head. “I can’t stay long anyway, I just wanted to check if you were okay after last night.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows and blew a breath out through his lips. “I’m… I’m. Well. I’m… coping, I suppose.”

Steve nodded, eyes cast down to glance around the porch. There was a flake of snow clinging to one of his eyelashes, Eddie didn’t know how it got there. It hadn’t been snowing that morning, not from what he’d seen anyway, cooped up inside. Steve looked up towards the roof of the trailer and then around the edges, no doubt taking in its depressing and undecorated exterior.

“Listen, I-” 

Steve hesitated, his cheeks burning a little brighter, hands shoved in his pockets and arms curled in tight towards himself. Eddie felt a little bad about leaving him out here in the cold, not even inviting him in regardless of how it was inside, it felt unnecessarily mean but he didn’t know if he could handle having Steve in his space right now. He felt like he was at either a knife’s edge or unbearably dull this morning.

“I wanted to offer you- or, I don’t know. If you didn’t have any plans, that- well, I’m hosting everyone at my place on Christmas day and you would be more than welcome if you wanted to come. Y’know… if you weren’t… if you didn’t-”

“If I’m gonna be alone?”

Steve turned his big sad eyes on him, mouth gone slack from shock. 

“No! No, that’s not what I meant. I never meant to suggest-”

Eddie shrugged, taking a sip from his mug. 

“It’s an unfortunate fact, right now, Stevie. I am alone. It’s depressing but it’s the truth.”

“Well.” Steve took a big breath in. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Eddie hummed, rocking back and forth on his feet. “Who’s everyone? I don’t know if I would be able to handle your parents. No offence.”

Steve scoffed. “None taken. They haven’t set foot in that house in nearly ten years. It’s not theirs anymore, it’s mine.”

“Oh. They dead too?”

To Steve’s credit, he didn’t flinch at the words that were maybe a little harsher than they needed to be, he met Eddie’s eye, determined and unwavering.

“No, they’re not. They left Hawkins, left me the house, called it my inheritance and drove off. They’re in New York now. We exchange Christmas cards but that’s about it.”

Eddie was a little bewildered.

“You don’t talk to them at all?”

Steve shrugged. “We know who we are to each other.”

So Steve still had parents out there in the world and they just… didn’t talk to each other? And from the sounds of it, all three of them seemed fine with that? Now that sounded depressing. 

“Steve, I’m… I’m sorry.”

Steve tilted his head, their eyes never once wavering. “It’s a different kind of mourning, I suppose.” He shuffled a little bit in the cold and fuck, Eddie really should have invited him inside, but it looked like he was getting ready to leave anyway. “So, on the day it’ll be me, Rob and Chris. The kids will come over later on in the evening. And I think Dustin has invited those three guys from your band too, so they might show up. Like I said, no pressure, you do whatever it is you’re comfortable with but I think they’d all like to see you, I’d-” 

Steve swallowed, his face getting pinker.

“I’d like to see you.”

Eddie could feel a grin tugging at his lips, something giddy and hopeful blooming in his belly despite everything. “Oh, would you now?”

Steve flashed him a charming grin, his shoulders relaxing almost imperceptibly while he dragged his eyes down towards Eddie’s lips and then back up. “I would.”

“Well then, I’ll have to see what I can do.”

Despite the things he said to Steve, he wasn’t sure he was going to turn up until he did.

He’d gotten into his car Christmas morning with a thermos of hot chocolate and an insulated blanket and visited Wayne.

He’d placed Wayne’s old fashioned chipped and battered mug that he only ever drank hot chocolate out of at Christmas time, a painted wreath and ‘Merry Christmas’ decorating the front, down next to the wooden cross dug into the head of his grave.

The headstone wouldn’t be finished for another few weeks.

He spread the blanket down over the snow, wishing he’d thought to bring a cushion but powering through regardless.

He poured out some hot chocolate for himself and Wayne, sat back, drank and just… talked.

He told Wayne about his breakup with Jack, about selling the apartment, about moving back into the trailer, apologised for not checking in with him first before he did. He talked about everyone who came to the funeral and the night at the pub, the songs, the people he spoke to, the friends he found there.

Steve.

He might have spent a little longer talking about Steve. It was nothing Wayne hadn’t heard before, though. Eddie had talked about him a lot during school.

He rambled and tripped over his words and laughed and cried.

He was alone in the graveyard. No one else was visiting at this cold hour of the morning, they would all probably stop by after mass or after dinner but Eddie hated the idea of not seeing him first thing.

Going back home after that was hard.

His hands were stiff and creaking, his ass was so numb from the cold it had come back around to hurting again and he didn’t know if it would ever thaw, but sitting in his van outside the trailer, looking at it cold and empty and undecorated he knew he couldn’t spend the whole damn day here.

He wasn’t sure what time he was supposed to show up to Steve’s but it seemed like an informal enough invite so he tried to distract himself as best as he could before he could make his appearance at an appropriate time.

He called it tidying but it was really just moving things around from corner to corner, trying to find spaces for his stuff to live, but at the very least the trailer no longer looked like Eddie had just dumped his entire life out onto the living room floor.

Which… he had but it didn’t really look like it anymore.

By the time the evening started to close in around him, he figured now was as good a time as any to go, it was certainly a better idea than sitting around with his blank word document, bouncing his knee or chewing on his fingers or staring off into space.

He did try to at least pull himself together to look presentable enough. Or as presentable his ripped jeans would allow him to be. 

At the last second he reached for one of Wayne’s flannels, a buffalo check in red and black that felt Christmassy enough, slipping it on over his t-shirt and under his jacket.

Steve’s house was completely decked out. Even from the outside Eddie could tell he’d gone all out, every edge of the roof was crawling with twinkling warm white lights, there were LED candle arches lighting up every window and a large wreath surrounding the door knocker. Through the windows he could see that the inside was much the same.

Steve’s whole face lit up into a bright smile when he opened the door to Eddie standing there with his hands in his pockets.

“You came.” He breathed.

“I did.” Eddie smiled back. “I hope you don’t mind, I'm a little empty handed. By the time I remembered it was polite to bring something to these things it was already too late and I’ve been a little scatter-brained recently-”

“No, no. That’s fine, Eds.” Steve waved him in and Eddie tried not to let his stomach completely fly away with him at the nickname. “Come in. I’m just happy you're here, empty handed or not.”

Just like Steve had that night at the pub in his red sweater and perfectly tousled hair, the entire house looked like it had been transported out of a Christmas movie. The space was warmly lit by various lights strung around the bannister, fresh green garlands swagged over doorways and the fireplace, which was roaring and warm.

Red and green stockings were lined up over the mantle, almost too many to fit, and a large regal Christmas tree was decked out to the nines with a mishmash of different coloured decorations.

The tree and the garlands gave the whole place an inviting smell, complemented by the scent of cooking and baking that was wafting in from the kitchen.

Steve helped him slip his jacket off his shoulders, hanging it up over the coat rack.

“Can I get you something to drink? You’re just in time, dinner should be coming out of the oven any second now.”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Steve shot him a blinding smile, turning and disappearing through an entryway while Eddie wandered to stand in front of the fire.

He stared down at it, letting the warmth spread over him wondering if he really should be feeling… more? Less? 

He still felt sad that Wayne was gone and excited at the idea that something might be brewing with Steve, but was that right? Was that normal? Should there be other things? He didn’t know.

He was distracted from those thoughts by the sound of bickering coming from the kitchen.

“Rob, let me just-”

“No, get out!”

Steve stumbled through the doorway with a little pout on his face, managing to keep the two wine glasses in his hands from spilling over.

“Did you just get kicked out of your own kitchen?”

“Yeah.” He grumbled, handing one of the glasses to Eddie and Eddie did not blush when their fingers light grazed one another. He was an adult fucking man who’d done many filthy, dirty things in his life. He did not blush at a finger graze. “She won’t let me do anything else. Said I’ve cooked enough already which, I don’t know how that could possibly be true considering it isn’t even finished yet but-”

Steve cut himself off with a bite to his lip.

“Sorry, that’s- nevermind. I’m rambling.”

“It’s okay, Stevie. I don’t mind.”

Steve smiled, a little more to himself than to Eddie and said softly, “I like it when you call me that.”

Eddie had to drag his eyes away, the sweetness of Steve’s grin was too much to handle right now.

“I like it when you call me Eds.”

They were just standing there smiling at each other and slowly rocking on their feet, like they wanted to inch forwards but neither was brave enough to take the leap.

“Are you in the food industry? Is that why Robin gave you the boot?”

“No.” Steve shook his head. “I think I probably would have liked it, but no. I sing. Singer-songwriter, really but- I mean- I’m in music.”

“Really?” Eddie’s mouth was maybe hanging open a little wider than it needed to be, but Steve didn’t seem to mind. He hadn’t torn his eyes away. “I mean you have the voice for it, but shit, that’s not an easy industry to be in.”

Steve shrugged. “It could be worse. I work independently so I don’t have anyone breathing down my neck about it.”

“Anything I would have heard?”

“I dunno.” Steve blushed, hiding behind his wine glass as he took a sip. “Don’t really think it’s your type of music.”

“I’ll give anything a try once.”

Steve grinned a little and Eddie could tell there was a joke hidden in there somewhere that Steve graciously didn’t voice aloud. ���It’s a mix of everything I suppose. But if you were to put a genre on it I’d call it indie rock.”

“I’m just letting you know right now, little eighteen year old Eddie is green with jealousy. I’ll have to look you up.”

“Please don’t.” Steve grimaced, his whole face bright red. “I don’t think I would be able to live with the embarrassment. And what about you, anyway? How’s the new book going?”

“Uh,” Eddie cast around for an answer before gulping back a mouthful of wine. “It’s going… it’s going. I’ve been kinda stuck at a wall for a few months now, but hopefully something will come to me soon.” He frowned to himself before looking back up at Steve. “How did you hear I was writing a new book? I wouldn’t have even thought you’d remember who I was, like in general.”

“How could I not remember you? You’re hard to forget.”

It was Eddie’s turn to hide behind his wine glass now. He wasn’t exactly sure how true that was, considering everything about his past relationship.

“But… uh. As for how I knew,” Steve rubbed that back of his neck, “I’ve read them. Your books, I mean.”

Eddie’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. 

“You have? And you read them knowing it was me who wrote them?” He laughed to himself. “Didn’t think you’d be into queer vampire action romance.”

“You have no idea what I’m into Eds.” Steve answered, his eyes low and lidded, a smirk pulling up at the side of his mouth.

Eddie was saved from making a further fool of himself when Robin and Chrissy appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Feast’s served!”

The girls each said their hello’s, an arm squeeze from Robin and a hug and a kiss on the cheek from Chrissy before he was practically pushed down into his seat.

The dining table was large enough to have everything on the table, turkey, ham and all the trimmings, bowls with spoons sticking out of them and plates with tongs, even enough space left over for candles and decor in the middle of it all.

As bowls were passed around and both Steve and Robin made the first move on the food, tipping servings out to Eddie and Chrissy before themselves, Eddie found himself getting lost in conversation from all three directions.

He gossiped with Chrissy while Steve and Robin bickered over the best cut of the turkey. 

Throughout the dinner, Robin tried to sneakily get rid of her sprouts by dropping them one by one onto Steve’s plate when he wasn’t looking, but he noticed every time, savouring them with a satisfaction that could only come from someone who actually liked them.

He got into his own good natured argument with Robin about marching band while Steve and Chrissy talked sports.

And he flirted.

Brazenly.

Probably far more brazenly than he should have but Steve always rose to meet the challenge with a curl of his lip and a glint in his eye.

By the time dessert was making the rounds he was pretty sure he could have fallen asleep sitting at the dining table, but finding room for the cakes and pies and trifles, as always.

Steve had stopped drinking after that first glass and while Eddie didn’t exactly want to get completely plastered, he still allowed himself to get to a polite level of tipsy.

The girls had no such worries, already rosy cheeked and a little sloppy by the time the kids and Eddie’s band arrived.

The rest of the night was full of Christmas music, the most ridiculous games of charades which Eddie won every time, pulling on his old DM skills and after a passionate argument on what the worst Christmas movie was, the winning candidate was turned on, everyone laughing and jeering along with it like it was a Rocky Horror showing, Eddie pressed into Steve’s side on the couch.

It was during a particularly loud moment, all of them booing the screen when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket.

Pulling it out he saw the screen light up with a name he hadn’t really thought of for most of the night.

Jack.

He stared down at the name for longer than he really needed to before sighing to himself.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

Steve glanced between the phone and his face before settling into a gentle smile.

“Okay.” He gave his shoulder a small squeeze and Eddie got up, bringing the phone to his ear and stepping out of the room.

“Hello?”

There was a momentary pause on the other line before a quiet voice spoke. “Hi, Eddie.”

Eddie wasn’t entirely sure what to say back to him. Why are you calling? Why are you suddenly interested? Has the guilt finally gotten to you? Is it because it’s Christmas and you thought I’d be alone?

In the end he didn’t have to say anything.

“I’m just- I guess I just wanted to see how you’re doing.” Jack sounded resigned and a little sad. If they had still been together, Eddie would have been trying to drag him out to the Christmas market or trivia nights or Christmas parties for the last few weeks and they would have been heading out in a day or two to spend the rest of the holidays with Jack’s family in Ohio. Jack had only come back with him for a Christmas with Wayne once before.

But it sounded like Jack was already with his family. Eddie could hear his mothers Michael Bublé Christmas album playing softly in another room.

“I’m doing…” Eddie sighed, leaning back against the wall. “I’m doing okay.”

A loud chorus of laughter burst through the sitting room, shouting and jeering following quickly behind.

“You’re out somewhere?”

Eddie glanced back through the door, watching everyone gathered either talking to each other, pointing in indignation at the tv, tucking into another serving of dessert or knocking back the last of their drink, all backlit by the Christmas lights and the fire.

“I’m with friends.”

“Good.” He could hear Jack nodding, wondering how he was handling his mothers questions or his fathers awkwardness that Eddie usually deflected for him. “That’s good. I’m glad you- I’m glad you’re not alone.”

No thanks to you, Eddie wanted to snap but kept it down. He didn’t have the energy for an argument right now. Didn’t want one. It was Christmas and he wanted to keep the comfortable, fuzzy feeling around for as long as he could.

Steve lifted his eyes, looking right at him and grinning, something soft, something warm and easy, just for him.

Eddie smiled back. “Yeah, me too.”

Steve drove him home that night. It was nearly two in the morning by the time he was bundled up in the car with a lap full of tupperware and his heart feeling lighter than it had for weeks now.

He’d been offered a room to stay in, but had refused. He didn’t want to impose any more than he already had and if he was honest with himself, he wanted to be at home. 

Plus he hadn’t brought anything for an overnight.

When they pulled up, Eddie tried to shuffle his way out of the car without dropping anything but eventually had to huff and hand some of the containers over when Steve offered to help him carry them all.

They were inside before Eddie remembered his previous refusal to let Steve in through the door, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Steve gave a cursory glance around but his eyes always seemed to be drawn back to Eddie, placing the containers down on the kitchen counter and assuring him he’d be back in the morning to drive Eddie back to his car.

“I hope you had a good time.” Steve looked at him, all warm and gooey and too good to be true.

“I had a great time, I think I needed it.” Eddie fidgeted with his rings, nervous all of a sudden. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Of course. It was great to see you, I’m glad you came.” 

They stood, staring at each other and Eddie had the urge to hide his face behind his hair, but he resisted.

Steve reached out, brushing a curl behind his ear and then leant in, placing a sweet and chaste kiss against his cheek and Eddie was left completely dazed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Eddie breathed, nodding. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

He watched Steve step out onto the porch and slide into his car, driving away with a little waggle of his fingers. Eddie unconsciously brought his hand up to brush over his cheek where he could still feel the tingle of Steve’s lips against his skin.

When the headlights of Steve’s car turned the corner, Eddie closed the door, staring at it in silence for a few moments before a hysterical little giggle burst out of his throat.

His whole body was wracked through with momentary excitement, forcing him to spin in a silly little circle. He stifled another giggle, sighing it out before his eyes landed on the couch.

He looked back up at a photo from a few years ago, of him and Wayne on a road trip that they had taken, sitting on a wooden fence surrounding a national park. Wayne always said it was just “One step at a time, boy. You’ll never get anywhere if you don’t take that first step.”

“Yeah, I hear you, Wayne.” Eddie responded out into the empty trailer. “First step.”

He looked up towards the bedroom.

He felt like, maybe tonight, maybe he could be comfortable with that first step.

Pulling a fresh set of bedsheets out of storage and turning back to the bed with them bundled up in his arms, he figured he’d just have to take it one step at a time.

I made a short playlist to go along with this fic containing the songs sung and the different versions mentioned along with one or two others I think they may have sung and my own favourites.

Some of you may have read I lost a family member a couple of weeks ago and I suppose this is my way of working through my feelings about it. It hit a little harder than I had intended but was healing to write nonetheless.

AO3

As always, my biggest thanks and much love to @hbyrde36 for the beta work with this and to the Stranger Things Writers Guild Discord for their motivation!

Christmas lights divider by @silkholland

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #penny00dreadful #eddie x steve #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #fanfic #tw character death #tw funeral #tw grief #tw mourning #christmas fic

[specialagentlokitty]

Brennan(bones) x reader - routine

Can you please do Brennan x autistic reader? It's been a while since I last watched Bones. I can't remember if it was actually confirmed, or not, that Brennan was on the spectrum. - Anon💜

Sitting in the office, you looked at the cup in front of you then to the FBI agent who was stood in the doorway.

“You’re not going to drink it?” He asked.

“(Y/N) doesn’t like coffee, or other people making their food and drinks.”

Booth looked at Brennan a little confused.

“I watched them eat Chinese the other day.”

“Yes, but I had to try it first, to make sure it was okay. They’re very food conscious.”

Booth nodded his head a little, and pointed to the cup.

“It’s tea.”

Brennan walked over, taking the cup she took a sip from it.

Walking over to her desk she pulled out a box and opened it, putting some sugar in she walked over and handed the cup over to you.

Taking it, you took a sip and looked at her, smiling a little bit.

“I won’t be much longer.” She said.

“Okay. I can wait here.”

“Good, I’ll have Booth wait here with you.”

You nodded and she left, and you carried on drinking your tea, checking your watch.

“Are you in a rush?” Booth asked.

Walking over, he sat in front of you.

“It is nearly 7pm.” You said.

“What does that mean?”

You stood up, setting your cup down you left the office and stood below the desk.

You looked at Brennan as she spoke to some of her colleagues.

“Somebody is waiting for dinner.” Hodgins chuckled.

“Right, sorry. I’ll be back in an hour.”

Brennan left the desk and walked over to you, holding up a hand to you.

“I’ll get my bag and then we’ll go.”

“Okay.”

Looking back up at the deck, you watched as Angela walked over, leaning on the railing with a grin on her face and she smiled at you.

“You haven’t come around here recently, is everything okay?” She asked.

“There was construction outside my building, I didn’t want to leave because of it, so I stayed inside and Brennan would come to mine instead.”

She nodded her head.

“So, what do you think of Booth?” She asked.

“He made my drink wrong.”

Angela laughed.

“He never makes us drinks, so you’re lucky there.”

“You should tell him to make you a drink.”

“I’ll try that, she’s back you should get going.”

Turning around, you looked at Brennan and walked over to her.

Standing in front of her, you narrowed your eyes a little bit.

“You don’t want to leave.”

“No, I need to work. But I know you need to eat at certain times, so I can just come back afterwards. It’s fine.”

You looked at your watch.

“It’s okay, I can go and eat. You need to work.”

“I’m more than happy to come with you.”

“It’s okay, you like working. I don’t mind.”

You smiled a little bit and Brennan smiled at you, leaning forward she kissed your cheek and handed you her purse.

“Can you bring me back something?”

“Yes, I will bring your favourite.”

“That’s perfect, thank you so much. Im sorry.”

You smiled a little and walked away.

Brennan gestured to her office and everybody followed here there so they could talk about what they had found.

Exactly an hour later you came back, and you walked into her office.

“Here you go.”

Handing her the food and her purse, you sat down next to her on the couch, taking one of the photo’s on the table.

You looked at it while they spoke, and you handed it to Brennan who took it from you so you could pick up another one.

“Bones why does your partner keep taking the photos?” Booth asked.

“(Y/N) can connect everything together in a way we can’t. Their favourite thing to do is spot abnormalities in photos and X-rays.” Zach said.

They all looked at you picking up photos and passing them to Brennan when you were done looking at them.

When you were done, you looked at Brennan.

“What did you find?” She asked.

“He was set on fire.”

“What else?”

“He was covered in gasoline, but he was already dead.”

“You’re pretty good, where did you learn that?” Booth asked.

You gestured to Brennan who was looking over the photos you had just gone through.

“I taught them everything they know, they were curious about my work.” She said.

Brennan set the photos down, and she looked at you.

“That doesn’t explain the marks we found.”

You looked at her.

“No.”

Sitting up, you looked at Hodgins who looked at you.

“I want to see what you found.”

“Sure, come on.”

Brennan held her hand in front of you to make you stop.

“No, you need to go home. It’s getting late.”

“But you’re here.”

“I’ll go with you, we can work tomorrow. You like routine, you’ll get stressed out if you don’t follow it.”

“Okay.”

Brennan got everything ready, and she took you back to your apartment, watching as you did your usual routine.

Sitting on your bed with you, she watched as you checked the time again before you opened your book to begin reading.

“How did you know about the fire?” She asked.

“His bones have ash on them, and look slightly burned.”

Brennan glanced at you.

“You read the police report.”

You stayed quiet and she sighed.

“You remember what happened the last time?” She asked.

“I was arrested.”

“Yes, exactly. So, stop stealing files from booth. Where did you hide it?”

You pointed to the bedside cabinet next to her and she opened it to find the file.

Looking at you she shook her head with a little smile.

“Through your busy day you found time to steal the file?”

“I always have time. You work a lot, I enjoy coming to work with you.”

“You do work with me.”

“Sometimes.”

Brennan sighed a little bit.

“I know I work a lot, I know sometimes it annoys you, I’m sorry.”

“You like working, I like you, so I don’t mind.”

Brennan smiled at you, resting her head on your shoulder and you placed your hand on her head, patting it a little.

“I like you too.”

Brennan knew you wouldn’t tell her you loved her, the closest she would get right now was you saying you liked her was as close as she would get.

And it made it easier for her as well.

Neither of you were used to relationships or navigating something like this, it was new for the pair of you, but she wouldn’t change it for the world

#bones #bones x reader #bones x you #bones imagine #temperance brennan #temperance Brennan x reader #temperance Brennan x you #temperance Brennan imagine

[topguncortez]

This may be controversial but I have to speak my mind.

I don’t understand how we as a fandom decided that Jake was more likely the womanizer and f-boy. Bradley was the one who literally sauntered into the Hard Deck wearing a Hawaiian shirt (because he HAD to be different) and aviators (INDOORS) and then proceeded to unplug the juke box and play piano to work the crowd. Jake was just chilling playing pool with his best friend while wearing his cute little uniform.

And YEA Jake teased the other aviators as they came in, but it seemed to be more good natured ribbing than any true intended insults. ROOSTER was the one who took it too far and told Jake that he was gonna get someone killed. You can see the moment Jake’s face switches from light hearted to a defensive mask. :(

If there is a fuck boy in this situation, you can’t tell me it wouldn’t be rooster. He would LIVE off of the attention of women and would use the piano to take home a different girl every night. He probably has issues letting people in because of the loss of his parents and mav, I feel like he wouldn’t be the relationship type unless he finally decided to unpack all of that in therapy (*which is a wonderful thing and I think everyone should go)

no because it’s not controversial. i 100% agree with you anon.

Bradley for sure suffers from only child syndrome and gold-star child syndrome. he’s kinda used to being able to walk into a place and all attention is on him. he’s been able to get away with a lot pulling the “my dad died while in the navy” card (can very much see mav telling him to suck it up. he’s not the only kid who’s lost a parent). i also believe that bradley has a hard time sticking in relationships long term. i think he’s very much a one night maybe a couple nights type of guy.

Jake on the other hand, i think he has some very strong southern values installed in him. Not saying this man is a saint or he hasn’t had his nights where he takes a girl home and returns her calls the next day. But i do think Jake is more of the settle down type of guy. i also think he’s got a lot of respect for all women, not just his mom and sisters, but just women in general. (bradley pretty much just respects carole and phoenix)

now, i’m glad you brought up Bradley’s comment to Jake. Jake was just tryna do some good old fashioned teasing like we saw him do when Phoenix walked in and when Bob was finally noticed. However, it was Rooster who took it too far by mentioning leading someone into an early grave. and you could see everyone’s face change, not just Jake’s. Those words had a deeper meaning than just some rivalry smack talk and Rooster knew it. Now i think, because of that Jake bringing up Goose was warranted.

My fan theory has always been that Jake, Rooster and some girl were in a love triangle, something went wrong and the girl died. And Jake hasn’t ever really dealt with it, just kinda shelved it and moved on, but Rooster hasn’t ever forgotten.

#g mail #hangman #jake seresin #bradley bradshaw #rooster #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin

[callsigndragon]

Don't go on that date | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

A/N: FIRST REQUEST FROM THE PROMPT LIST WHOO! This was longer than intended. Hope you like it @beebslebobs!

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, Rooster's baggage, mentions of alcohol, mentions of food, bit of angst and fluff.

“Sorry, y/n, but I don’t feel the same” Rooster said with a sad smile. “I hope we can still be friends”

He had said that to you two months ago, and it was hard for you to keep him in your life. Rooster was a good friend, and you couldn’t just walk away from him. He was everywhere.

As a bartender of the Hard Deck, you would always be a part of his world, and he would always be around there. Rooster worked now as an instructor in Top Gun, taking Maverick’s place once he left to work on his relationship with Penny. You were bound to see each other almost every day.

Phoenix, one of your best friends, had been there to help you restore your broken heart once Rooster rejected you. It wasn’t easy, you were head over heels for the man. Who wouldn’t? He was practically perfect.

“I just don’t get it” she said, the night you called her crying because Rooster broke your heart. She knocked your door 20 minutes later, holding a back full of sweets, ice-cream, and a box of your favorite pizza. “He’s always talking about you, messaging you when we’re away, heck he even made two students do 200 push-ups because they were saying how hot you were.”

“Nat, he was pretty clear about it. I’ve been torturing myself for months now, trying to confess and for what? I’ve been friend zoned!”

“This is bullshit, I’m telling ya. I’ll keep an eye on him, see what this is all about” she hugged you and gave you a slice of pizza. “Now you gotta eat something”

The next day, Phoenix and Rooster were called for an important and secret mission. They left without many explanations, only knowing that they were still alive from the messages you received every few days.

Two months later, they came back. You almost cried when you saw them entering the bar, smiling at you. You were so excited that you jumped over the bar top, running towards them.

“Damn, this is the kind of welcoming I’ve always wanted” laughed Phoenix, hugging you. You couldn’t help but laugh, too.

You turned towards Rooster, his smile reaching his eyes. “Hello, sweetheart”

You smiled, a few tears welling up to your eyes. He hugged you, harder than ever before, while stroking your hair. “Glad to see you”

You moved away from him, getting inside the bar and giving them two beers. “These ones are on me. Now sit and tell me everything you can about the last two months”

You didn’t notice but Rooster’s eyes looked at you differently. There was a slight adoration in his eyes. His mouth twitched every time you smiled, his own mouth seeming to reciprocate your happiness. But Rooster knew he couldn’t smile at you like that.

He was an absolute idiot.

What he said to you wasn’t true. He didn’t understand the deepness of his feelings towards you but he knew for sure that he wanted you. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. You were his sweet, precious, happy girl. And he couldn’t allow himself to be with you. He couldn’t destroy you like that.

Life as an aviator wasn’t easy. There was always a possibility of not making it back from a mission, to have a problem with the aircraft in an exercise. To die during an ejection. His own father had died like this. And he didn’t want to see in your eyes the same pain that had killed his mother slowly during years. He didn’t want you to be left with a folded flag and a broken heart. He chose the easy option.

He lied to you.

He saw that same pain in your eyes, but he knew that you would recover eventually. You would move on, forget about him. You would find someone better. You would marry, begin a family. Maybe you would even leave the town and he would never see you again.

That’s when Rooster realized how big a mistake he made.

In those two months he spent away from you, he understood his feelings. He knew when the first text message arrived. Even after being rejected you still wished him to be safe and to come back home in one piece. He wished he could turn back home and ask for forgiveness.

He couldn’t. And he would have to go through Phoenix first, though. She became your protector after you confessed.

Phoenix wasn’t very subtle. Well, she wasn’t trying to be subtle at all. She asked openly why did he reject her when it was obvious that he wanted to be with you.

Let’s just say that it had been two very long months.

Now, you’re here, at the bar. You’re not working tonight, you’re having a few drinks with your friends. Some of the dagger team members arrived to town a few days back. Hangman, Coyote, Payback, Fanboy and Bob are playing darts with you. You totally suck, but is fun to see how everyone tries to cover Hangman’s eyes to stop him from winning. Every single time.

Phoenix and Rooster are sitting by the bar. They seem to be talking about something really important.

“Maybe if you stopped staring at her and actually talked to her, you might have a chance.” says Natasha to Rooster, tired of his eyes following her friend all night.

“You know that’s impossible. I fucked up. I don’t think she would ever look at me that way again”

“You won’t know unless you try, Bradshaw”

“Would you give me a second chance?”

“It’s not me we’re talking about. She has been your friend even after that little stupid brain of yours thought that hurting her now would be easier than whatever the heck you believe is gonna happen in the future. Man, breaking her heart to ‘save her from living without you'? That’s stupid”

“You’ve been scolding me for the past two months. I don’t think you gave anything more to say about it” he says, voice tired about the topic. He fucked up and he can’t gain you back. That’s it.

“You’re literally an idiot” she says, Rooster turning around to ask for another beer. Phoenix looks at Coyote and nods, making the man smile. If Rooster doesn’t want to confess… they’ll make him confess.

“Hey y/n!” says Coyote, putting an arm around your shoulders. “I have a proposal”

“Do tell me, Coyote”

“I was thinking that maybe, and just maybe, we could go out this weekend. There’s a new restaurant I’ve been wanting to go”

You can see Hangman, Bob, Payback and Fanboy’s eyes moving towards Rooster. You stop yourself from looking to. He said that he wanted to be friends. Friends. And if you want to go on a date with Coyote, you’ll go. But do you really want to go?

“What do you say?”

“Oh, yeah. I’d like to” you smile, turning around to continue watching the game.

A few meters away, someone has lost his smile. “Did you hear that?” Rooster asks, leaving his beer on the bar.

“What, Coyote asking y/n out? Yeah, I heard it” she answers, a smile on her lips.

That makes Rooster frown. “You seem to like the idea of Coyote dating her”

“I told him to ask her out, actually”

“You did what?” he turns completely in his stool, looking at her with widened eyes.

“C’mon, Rooster. She has been moping around for two months because of you. She needs to go out, live a little. Maybe even get la-“

“Do not finish that sentence”

“You said you didn’t care, and I want my friend to be happy” she shrugs.

“I didn’t say I don’t care, I said I can’t fix this”

“Have you asked her?” she stands up, tired of Rooster’s pessimistic attitude. He remains silent. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You don’t ask her to forgive you, but you don’t want her to be with someone else. That’s egotistical, you know?”

He stands too, looking down at her. “What do you want me to do? Beg her?”

“Yes! Do it! Because if you don’t do anything now she’s going to be kissing Coyote in a few days” she sees something snap inside him. The realization. He leaves her without a word, walking in your direction.

“Y/n, can we talk?” you turn around, looking at Rooster’s serious expression.

“Is everything okay?”

“Let’s go outside” he grabs your hand, taking you out.

“Rooster are you ok-“

“Don’t go on that date” he interrupts you. You look at him. He looks tense. His jaw clenched, his eyes focused on yours.

“You’re joking, right?” you try to laugh, but his face tells you that this is not a joke. “You’re serious”

“Yeah. Y/n I know I fucked up, I really did. And I’m really sorry. But if you let me explain…”

“You told me you didn’t feel the same. You just wanted to be my friend and now that someone is interested in dating me you do this? How can you explain this?” your words hurt him. You can see it in his face, and his closed eyes and sorrowful expression.

“I was trying to protect you” he confesses.

“Protect me from what?”

“I didn’t want you to be hurt if something happened to me”

“That it’s my decision, Rooster” you move towards the beach, trying to put some distance between the aviator and you. But every step you move away, he follows.

“I knew you would be mad at me”

“Then why did you do it?!” you’re tired of this conversation. It’s like going around in circles.

“Because I love you!” he says, raising his voice.

You both stay silent, looking at each other with thousands of thoughts running through your head. He loves you. You should be angry at him for lying but he just admitted his feelings. Natasha was right, he loved you. And he still does.

“You love me” you repeat.

“With my whole fucking soul” he admits in a whisper.

“I should be mad at you, you know”

He looks at the floor, kicking the sand with his boots. “I won’t blame you if you are”

You walk closer to him, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling down to kiss him. He freezes for a moment, not really understanding what’s happening. Then he pulls you closer, his hands on your hips, his tongue fighting for dominance. You pull back to breath, and Rooster follows you, searching for your lips. You chuckle a bit and he opens his eyes.

You hear cheering and clapping from inside the bar, turning to see all your friends celebrating that the two of you got together. Finally. Phoenix and Coyote high five each other and you know those two had a plan.

“…are you still mad?” Rooster asks in a tiny voice. Why is he so cute?

“Oh, I’m really mad. But you’ll have time to make it up”

He smiles. “I like the sound of that” he says, pulling you closer to kiss you again.

#top gun maverick #top gun one shot #top gun fic #rooster top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster fanfic #jenn writes

[callsign-joyride]

Imagine the dagger squad playing dogfight football at the beach on 4th of July... Rooster takes his shirt off and his girlifriend goes, "Happy 4th of July to me," or something like that. Maybe #8 from SoS?

Just Like Paradise | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Summary: Bradley can't seem to get enough of you during 4th of July festivities.

Content warnings: Oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v

Prompt: "You taste like heaven and I can't get enough."

A/N: This was written to go with my Rooster series Rules & Regulations but it can be read on its own. (And yes, I know that it's after July 4th... I've been busy lol.)

This was written for my Summer of Smut writing event. Feel free to send in requests!

The Dagger Squad wanted to spend Independence Day playing dogfight football at the beach. Being Phoenix’s best friend and Rooster’s girlfriend, you were of course invited. You decided to wear a bikini with the American flag printed on it with one of Bradley’s shirts as a coverup. You parked in the spot next to Bradley’s Bronco and texted him that you had arrived before getting out of the car with your tote bag and water bottle. 

Penny had set out a few lounge chairs where the group was and you could see Mav and Amelia following her out of The Hard Deck with the jumbo umbrellas under their arms. You were able to put your phone in your bag and take your shirt off before Bradley came up behind you and carried you into the water.

“It’s cold!” You yelled as Bradley laughed and leaned down to kiss you.

“You look good,” he said as he put his hands on your hips. His hands were dangerously close to where the ties of your bikini bottoms were.

“Hey, we’re in front of all of our friends and I don’t want to traumatize Amelia.”

“Is this new? I’ve never seen it before.”

“I bought it on sale a few years ago. Now, can we get back to our friends?”

“Yep, after I do this,” Bradley said before he quickly dunked you under the water. You laughed once you came back up and smacked him on the chest before walking back to the shore. The rest of the squad had arrived by then because Fanboy gave you a hug and said that you looked good.

Phoenix tossed you her bottle of sunscreen once you sat down and Rooster watched as you applied it. When you rolled over, he helped you with your back and reached into your bag for the book that he knew you brought.

“Thanks, babe,” you said. He nodded his head and sat next to you before taking his shirt off and tossing it into your bag.

“Oh, happy Fourth of July to me,” you said. Bradley overheard your statement and let out a loud laugh. Amelia sat in the chair next to you and watched everyone play football while you read your book. You were motivated enough to finish the book so you snapped a picture of it before tossing it into your bag and putting the oversized shirt back on. The game had been over and everyone was sitting around and drinking bottles of water while talking.

“How was the book?” Bradley asked.

“It was good. I’m thinking about getting sandwiches and frozen yogurt for everyone.”

Fanboy heard you say that you were thinking about getting frozen yogurt and ran over to you.

“Can I go with you?” He asked.

“Oh my God, Fanboy, you’re not five.”

“But no one else knows Payback’s order.”

“Fine. But you’re holding the sandwiches.”

Bradley handed you his credit card and you left with Fanboy. The trip was a bit chaotic as Fanboy was the adult embodiment of a five-year-old boy but you got everything that you needed and headed back to the beach. All of the chairs were arranged in a circle and you passed the box of sub sandwiches around. 

"Cyclone's having a cookout later. He said that you're all invited," Mav said as he dug into his frozen yogurt. You quickly looked over at Bradley who subtly shook his head no. Most of the group said that they would go so you didn't feel as bad when you said that you and Bradley had other plans. 

Your neighbors were also having a cookout but it was more potluck style so you stopped at the store to get a few things after the beach. Bradley was starting to get handsy as you conversed with your neighbors while eating burgers and hotdogs. Kids were running around with sparklers and bomb pops and Bradley was practically getting swarmed by little girls. 

The two of you finally left during the fireworks show. As soon as you walked through the door, Bradley picked you up and carried you upstairs. You showered together, cleaning yourselves of the sand and sweat that you were surely covered in from the San Diego heat. Bradley wrapped you in a towel and helped you dry your hair before whisking you off to the bedroom and throwing you on the bed. You were giggly but it turned serious when he unwrapped the towel and moved you to the edge of the bed. 

"Bradley!" You squealed.

"You looked so beautiful today. Can't get enough," he said as he kissed you and used his thumb to apply light circles on your clit. You moaned into the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck to try and pull him closer. He leaned into the kiss while picking up his pace on your clit.

“Bradley, I-,”

“I know. Want you to cum on my mouth first.”

You leaned on your elbows and watched as Bradley left kisses going down your chest. He nuzzled himself just below your belly button before resting there for a few moments. He took a deep breath before putting your legs on his shoulders and licking slow stripes up and down your pussy. You moaned and pulled his hair as he fingered you while sucking on your clit. Your legs tightened around his head as you came and he started to slow down before coming up to kiss you.

“You taste like heaven and I can’t get enough,” he said. You relaxed into the kiss and wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his length press into your thigh. Bradley groaned as you guided him to your entrance and you watched as he slowly slid himself in. 

Things between the two of you were slow and sensual that night. Bradley came inside of you before resting his head in the crook of your neck while slowly pulling out of you. You were essentially tangled up with each other, and the crackles and booms of the fireworks could still be heard. 

“I love you,” he said.

Taglist:

@littlebadariell @cycbaby @luckyladycreator2 @idontcare-11 @blue-aconite @maverick-wingman @shawty-fenty @littlemisstopgun @rosiahills22 @katieshook02 @justanothermagicalsara @caitsymichelle13 @smoothdogsgirl @adoringsebstan @cherrycola27 @alexxavicry @mrsjaderogers @mak-32 @thefandomimagines @tallrock35 @caatheeriinee07 @bradshawseresinbabe @atarmychick007 @3sriracha @genius2050 @halstead-severide-fan @withakindheartx

Taglist form (Google form, email is not asked)

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster smut #top gun maverick #rooster #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw imagines #x reader #reader insert #top gun #bradley bradshaw smut #callsign joyride's summer of smut

[thrashkink-coven]

Ritual Report: Wednesday July 26, 2023

My glorious and profound Father Lucifer, I thank you humbly for this marvellous experience as well as your permission to share this experience with my peers. You are infinite in your loving grace and wisdom. I revere you deeply and truly. Thank you, bless you. 🖤

“My Ritual with Lord Lucifer was fucking Amazing

I didn’t truly understand what everyone meant when they say that the Marvellous Light Bringer is beautiful and gracious beyond comprehension before this ritual. It’s been a day and I am still absolutely shaken and awe inspired. Ave the wonderful prince of darkness, Lord Lucifer. 🖤

Ritual with Lucifer (Holy Shit) (1)

Okay guys I’m not trying to be dramatic, seriously. I’m just super ?!??? aaaa ?? after the ritual I just did? But in a really great way. I just need to get this out and write this down because I’m ??? so happy? ? aa

I didn’t consider myself to be a Luciferian, but I’ve been reaching out to Lucifer for a little bit now, nothing super intense but I have definitely felt his presence and done some small offerings for him. Another spirit I work very often with is very close with Lucifer, and through him I came into contact with The Prince. I’ve worked a lot with other angels but I’ve only really started dabbling with Lucifer within the last year. He’s been good to me. Whatever whatever, just context.

I wanted to do something a little deeper, really get a solid good connection. Honestly, I just wanted to get to know him better. I’ve been thinking about him very often, seeing him in dreams. The energy in my room almost called for it. Idk.

A mutual of mine who also works with Lucifer suggested I try meditating with an enn. I’ve been meeting an unusually high number of people who also work with Lucifer within the past few weeks and they’re always sharing awesome resources I’ve never seen. As soon as I start thinking about him long enough I’ll see something that I could use to work with him. I recently went to a trip to Nelson BC and picked up these Hermetic Tarot Cards. Also came to find out that the town has a SUSPICIOUS amount of occult imagery (and a Freemason temple? very cool.)

Life is one funny motherfucker.

I think it’s worth noting that before I started this ritual, when I was writing up invocations for him, I drew a card out of a box of oracle cards that reads “become willing to see the innocence in that which you condemn” which I found very baffling at the time because I was grappling with nerves around the ritual. I’m like a full time witch so I usually don’t get the jitters in rituals. Angels usually never make me nervous, and Lucifer in no way scares me. I don’t at all see him as an evil scary thing, quite the opposite, but I was raised extremely Christian so it’s ingrained in me. I was just having that split second satanic panic thing. I think that’s important to acknowledge. Lovely shadow work exposing my deep prejudices and insecurities :)

I began the ritual by drawing his sigil on the desk in white chalk. I had already prepared a candle carved with the sigil. I like to use this card from the Goetic Tarot whenever I do rituals with Lucifer because the artwork is so stunning. This was also the first time I was using these Hermetic Tarot cards and they were wonderful, probably one of my favourite decks now.

After some meditative exercises and prayers I layer back on the floor and listened to music for a while. I do all my rituals like this naked. I like to listen to classical music when I’m preparing to go into a trance because it tickles my brain and is easy to ride. Gets all the goo out? I don’t know.

After a while of that I switched it to the enns…

So, the Enns…

I started with Lucifer’s Enn by Demonic Enn. It filled my chest. It was powerful and intimidating and my heart was pounding. It was overwhelming for me. What I felt in it was power, but not the Lucifer I’m familiar with I guess. A different aspect of Lucifer that is mighty and strong but unfamiliar. Not my Lucifer.

((Honestly the instrumentals are top tier and I really could feel it’s power but the dude’s voice just threw me off. I’m sorry I don’t know if we’re allowed to leave reviews on enns but it just wasn’t my favourite.))

It scrambled the fuck out of me and it made me nervous again. I started to doubt myself and wondered if I was making a mistake. I know that sounds stupid but I was caught in the adrenaline. What if the Lucifer I’ve felt all this time isn’t what I thought? I know that everyone experiences him differently, but what if I’m reaching out to someone I don’t really understand? I know Lord Lucifer is an extremely powerful entity and I don’t wanna fuck around and do something stupid, yknow?

I sat for a moment and then asked my deck the first question of the ritual. “What advice can you give me to continue this ritual? Am I making a mistake?”

I got this Nine of Swords, Lord of Despair and Cruelty.

“The Nine of Swords suggests that dark thoughts and disturbing feelings are weighing you down. You are worrying excessively about a situation, and your negative thoughts are getting the better of you, leaving you stressed and anxious. The more you associate with your fears, the more they will rule your life. The fear and worry in the Nine of Swords can become a self-fulfilling prophecy. As you obsess over what may go wrong, you are more likely to manifest your worst-case scenario.”

I was freaking myself out, and I needed to calm down. The jitters were holding me back and I needed to regain focus. Stop being a little bitch, basically. And idk… as soon as I read that card, I was calm again, and the energy felt warm. He needed me to preserve. I was safe with him, and he was guiding me through the darkness. If he is the Lucifer I know him to be, he will guide me well.

I tried one more enn which was Lucifer’s Enn by Carl Spartacus. Beautiful.

This is the most vivid trance I have ever been in. Like holy shit. I don’t know how best to describe this without sounding totally crazy. My body completely relaxed as I fell into the music. My face got warm, I felt embrace around my shoulders and chest. As soon as it began I saw a warm light emerge from the darkness behind my eyes. The familiar energy of the Lucifer I’ve come to know emerged. I felt close to him like I always had, it was like he was standing right before me. Like he could just reach out and touch me.

I emerged in shrubbery, I was surrounded by trees and bushes. As I turned to look into the clearing I saw a magnificent illuminating light. The energy was rich, so heavy I could reach out and grab it. I felt warmth blanket my entire body, and I began to drift from the ground and float towards him. If I didn’t know any better Id fucking swear I was levitating in the real world. It felt that real. His energy elevated and touched every part of my body and filled it with absolute bliss. There were others there, naked men and women surrounding him and singing, floating around him with laughter and glee. We were in a large stretch of field now, prancing around like children, the drum of his energy pounding like thunder and lifting us into the air. I didn’t know these people, if they were spirits or humans, but we were all in love with each other. We held hands and swung each other around. We were all so happy to be together.

Lucifer was a tall masculine energy with long black hair and deep, gentle, wise black eyes. Like all the others he was naked and seemed to glow. He took us all up and we drifted among the clouds. He danced with us, his smile was light itself.

This was all so vivid. I could feel the wind and heat on my skin. I got butterflies as we drifted. I actually felt like I was floating. Honestly I was high on it, maybe I still am.

And then, I felt my body sit forward, and I returned to our world. The candle which I had carved Lucifer’s sigil on stood tall and I could feel him within the flame. He whispered for me to come closer. It was then that I heard his voice. His smooth, gentle, careful voice. It was a whisper that washed over me like mist. Had I not been in such a high state of mind it would have scared the shit out of me.

He said in great vividness “Why have you come before me?” (Deal time!!!)

I replied simply that I wanted to know him. I said that I could not worship him, for I must worship myself. I seek him not for religion but because I have great love and reverence for him. Through magick we can connect and come to know each other. I hope only that he can show me how to be more like him. Powerful and dominant, warm and protective. He is beautiful, illuminating knowledge and purity. I want nothing more than to know him as one would know an old friend. Behold his energy, magnificent and splendid. May we dance together like we just did for as long as it serves us. He seemed very satisfied with that answer.

Lucifer commanded me to draw a card from the tarot deck, the question to which was essentially “will you take me as one of you kin, Lord Lucifer?”

I drew the Sun. Lord of the Fire of the World. Success, radiance and abundance. The Sun gives you strength and tells you that no matter where you go or what you do, your positive and radiant energy will follow you and bring you happiness and joy. This beautiful, warm energy is what will get you through the tough times and help you succeed.

We then spoke for a bit about fire and its ability to purify. It is a powerful force with the power to harm, but it is a mighty cleanser of impurity. He asked me to put my hand above the flame to feel it’s heat. I promised to always respect that flame. Allow it to burn away all that does not serve us, to never abuse it, to never try to control it. He kissed me on the forehead.

I was beyond happy. I offered him my smoky quarts and obsidian tower just to give him something, and when I did I saw him bow to me when he reached out to accept. I bowed back, and he bid me farewell for now. When I was finally completely out of the trance, his protective energy was still there. Actually it’s still everywhere, filling my altar. I can’t describe this feeling.

I can’t explain how rich and beautiful that energy was, how marvellous it felt to float in his orbit like that. The physical sensations were realer than reality. I’m still shaken. I feel ridiculously lucky which is a strange feeling I’ve never really had with a deity before. It’s so strong. aaa

I can’t bring myself to clean up the ritual lol.

Thanks for reading this holy fuck, I guess I’m a bit of a Luciferian now “

Ave the wondrous Lord Lucifer! ❤️🖤

#witchcraft #magick #occultism #witch community #paganism #witch aesthetic #demonology #grimoire #pagan #witchblr #lucifer #luciferian #polytheistic #rituals #spellwork

[honeypiehotchner]

Gravedigger’s Daughter (Hangman x Fem!Reader) -- part five

We have reached the (very smutty) (kind of) end. (You’re welcome.)

Do we want an epilogue? I kind of want an epilogue,,, So yeah these two are getting an epilogue 🤪

Summary: You’re finally back in Fightertown to visit Penny and Amelia, but there also happens to be a group of aviators back at Top Gun. One of which who seems dead-set on wooing you.

Warnings: 18+ only! unprotected sex (wrap it irl), oral (f receiving), Jake has a thing for begging, apparently, slight cockwarming (i’m a slut for it, what can i say) they’re still bickering like an old married couple

WC: 3.5k

When you get back to Penny’s house it’s just a few minutes after six, so you expect to be able to lay back on the couch and act like you’ve been there all night.

Except, of course, Penny is awake and waiting for you in the kitchen, brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

“Good morning,” you say, offering a sheepish smile.

Penny nods, smirking, leaning back against the counter. “Good morning. How’s Hangman?”

You quietly close the back door. “Did you hear us?”

“I think the whole street heard you two bickering,” Penny laughs.

But you grimace. “Shit. Did we wake you?”

“No, no,” she shakes her head. “I slept an hour or two and couldn’t anymore.”

“Yeah,” you frown. “Same here. Until Hangman got here. Soaking wet. He walked here.”

“I heard,” Penny reminds you, still laughing. “What was it? You’re fucking crazy!”

“Oh my god.” You hide your face in your hands. “I’m so sorry. I was so pissed. I couldn’t help it.”

“I get it,” Penny says. “You didn’t wake Amelia though, don’t worry. She can sleep through anything, especially with those headphones in.”

“Teenagers,” you chuckle wistfully. “Did you tell her they left?”

Penny shakes her head. “I think she knows. She asked if we could take the boat out for a while.”

“Are you?”

“Well,” Penny sighs. “What are your plans? Do you still want to move?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “But that can wait. If you need to go, I understand. Take some time.” You pause, remembering how you and your mom did that a few times. You could always tell when she was especially worried because the two of you would take off to her sister’s house in Nevada for a week. As if being in a different state would make the pain hurt less if the worst case scenario happened.

“Are you sure?” Penny asks. “I don’t want to leave you--”

“Go,” you insist. “I can watch over The Hard Deck if you want.”

“You don’t have to open,” she says. “Everyone knows I take Amelia on vacation for a few days here and there.”

“Yeah, but now you have me here,” you grin. “I can keep them entertained while you’re gone.”

“You sure you wouldn’t want to come with us?”

You think it over for a moment, then shake your head. “I think I need to be here.”

Penny smiles gently. She gets it. “Okay.”

+++

Penny and Amelia leave the next morning. Amelia tries to convince you to join them, but she quickly lets it go when you cave and tell her you’ll be moving in. You wanted to wait to tell her, but you couldn’t take it anymore.

You spend the day moving things around in the spare room. Penny said she doesn’t mind where you put things, just as long as it isn’t hidden somewhere she can’t find it later. You find room in a few closets and even the closet in the room to store boxes. Penny was exaggerating when she told you just how much was in here. You’re finished in one day.

You don’t open The Hard Deck until the second day, and you only stay open for a few hours. With the aviators gone, not many people came around, and the regulars seemed a bit disappointed when you said Penny was gone on vacation. They’re used to the bar being closed, not a random woman running it for Penny.

Keeping busy is the best thing you can do for yourself.

So, you also head back to your apartment to pack up some more of your things, and officially let your leasing office know you’ll be leaving soon. They tell you that you don’t need to be out until the end of the month, but they don’t argue when you say you’ll likely be out sooner than that.

You load your car down and make a few trips before you’re too exhausted to do anymore for the day. Sitting on the beach sounds much more enticing, so you do that instead.

As the sun sets, you take a quick swim, watching the sky and wondering which direction the aviators are in. And if they’re okay. And if they’ve even gone up yet. And if they have gone up, if it went okay. If they’re on their way back now. If they have to wait.

You haven’t wondered about this many “if’s” since your dad. You forgot how easy it is for them to consume you, but at least it’s slightly easier now to quiet them. Now you know how.

The next day, you decide to grab lunch and eat with your dad. You spend hours out there, eating, drinking, and talking to him. You had no idea you had so much to tell him, even more than last week. You find yourself laughing like you used to with him when he was alive.

The rest of the day, you take a drive with all the windows down, music blaring, feeling free for the first time in a long time.

+++

The regulars at The Hard Deck get used to you after a couple nights, so you’ve started opening the doors every night.

This particular afternoon, you’re getting ready to open, doing all the things you didn’t do yesterday when you closed. You said it could be Tomorrow You’s problem, and now Tomorrow You is paying for it.

Behind you, the door swings open, and without looking, you holler, “Sorry, we’re not open just yet!” You must’ve forgotten to lock the door behind you.

“Really, sweetheart?”

You nearly drop the glass you were drying. Even then, it slams a little too hard on the counter when you let go of it, but you don’t have time to look at it.

Hangman has zero warning before you’re flinging yourself into his arms, wrapped around him like a koala, legs around his middle and all. He stumbles slightly, but regains his footing and widens his stance, holding you tight.

“I got you, honey,” he says, chuckling a little. He kisses your temple a few times, squeezing you. “I got you.”

“I missed you,” you say into his neck. Abruptly, you lift your head and stare at his face, searching for any cuts or bruises. “Are you okay? Did everything go okay?” Your hands move to hold his face, glad to be able to touch him again.

“I’m alright,” he says. “We’re all okay. We did it.”

You smile in relief. And then you kiss him.

Once again, you make him stumble. He’s never had a woman like you, one that can make him lose his balance so easily.

It only takes him a few seconds to get past the shock, and then he’s sighing into your mouth, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pulling you closer to his body. You whimper quietly when his grip gets a little too tight, and he groans in response, the sound sending a shock throughout your body.

“Woah! Hey! Jesus!”

You and Hangman spring apart like two teenagers caught making out in your parents’ basement.

Maverick has shielded his eyes and turned away, but you can see his shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Sorry Mav,” you murmur sheepishly, walking over to give him a hug, too.

“No problem,” he says, grinning from ear to ear. “I see you two got over yourselves.”

“Oh, shut up,” you shove his shoulder and he winces -- genuinely, not trying to get a rise out of you. “Hey,” your eyebrows furrow in concern. “You okay?”

He shrugs. “Been better.”

You give him a stern look. “You were supposed to be training them.” You pause, crossing your arms. “Pete Maverick. Did you fucking go up in this mission?”

“Maybe.”

“For fucks sake,” you mutter, shaking your head. Now you can really see all the cuts and bruises on his face. What the fuck happened? You know you can’t ask. “I’m glad you’re alive, but holy fuck. You’ve lost your mind.”

“Me too, kiddo,” Mav smiles, ignoring your last comments. “Where’s Penny?”

You were waiting for that to come out of his mouth. You smile sadly. “Her and Amelia went on vacation for a few days.”

He nods. “Oh. Okay.”

“Sorry, Mav,” you murmur. “She just couldn’t…be here, you know. She--”

“I get it, yeah,” he says, but he’s clearly hurt. You can see it on his face and hear it in his few words. “Well, I’ll text her.”

“I’ll let her know you stopped by,” you say. It might help for you to say something to her, too.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. “Well, I uh…I should probably go.” Maverick gestures between you and Hangman. “So you two can…catch up.” His shit-eating grin splits his face, and you all but kick him out of the bar.

With Maverick gone, you walk back toward Hangman, who is leaning against the bar in his usual suave way. And he’s smirking, of course.

“What are we doing tonight?” he asks.

“Depends,” you shrug, planning to tease him as much as possible. “You taking me to dinner first?”

“First?” He raises an eyebrow. “Before…?”

You feign deep thought, crossing your arms over your chest. “Hm. We’ll see how dinner goes.”

“You’re killin’ me, honey.”

“That’s the plan.”

The truth? You’d love to lock the doors and have him ravish you right here on the bar. But you’re classier than that, and the bartop would probably be uncomfortable as hell. Especially when you have a house to yourself. You have 100% certainty that Penny and Amelia won’t be back for at least another two days, so you won’t have to worry about anyone walking in on you two.

“Do you want to go out?” Hangman asks, pushing himself off the bar to stand at his full height. “Or what about if we stay in?”

“Order in?” you question.

He shakes his head, walking closer to you to rest his hands on your hips. “Absolutely not. I’ll cook.”

You raise both eyebrows. “You. You cook?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He almost looks genuinely offended. “My momma raised me right, thank you very much. I know how to cook a lady a proper meal. I haven’t exactly had the chance before, but--”

“Mm, right, because you’re a love ‘em and leave ‘em type,” you say, regretting it when you do. It feels like a low blow, but it’s like your common sense short circuits when he’s around.

“I used to be,” he agrees, taking it in stride. “But I haven’t been that way in years.”

“Really now?” You rest your hands on his chest, unable to restrain yourself from touching him.

“I guess I’ve been waiting for you, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, but that was smooth. It’s taking everything in you not to smile at him, and he can tell. Just like that, the conversation is righted again, and the weird tension has left.

“Do you like breakfast?” he asks.

“Yeah?” you reply. “Who doesn’t?”

“Just checking,” he shrugs. “What time do you wanna eat?”

“Whenever it’s ready,” you smile. “We’ll need to go to the store first. There’s next to nothing in Penny’s house.”

“What about here?” he asks. “You opening tonight?”

“Not anymore,” you reply, looking at him like he’s dumb (he is, a little). “There hasn’t been much business, anyway. They really love Penny.”

“Don’t we all,” he grins. “Can we go now?”

“You’re just eager to get in my pants, aren’t you?”

He grins. “Can you blame me?”

“Nope,” you reply, flashing him a sweet smile. “I’ll just make you wait even longer.”

+++

After getting all of the ingredients from the store (and some other food for you to eat, after Hangman scolded you for how bare the cabinets were), Hangman takes over Penny’s kitchen.

You try to help him cook, but the most he lets you do is grab the eggs for him. You try to help mix the pancake batter and he swats your hands away.

“All I want you to do is park your ass on that counter,” he points with the spatula, “and look pretty while I cook.”

“Hm.” You find it hard to argue with that. It’s been a long time since you’ve had someone else cook for you. So, you hop on the counter and let him do his thing.

Which apparently includes loudly serenading you with George Strait.

He only meant to do one song, but when he saw the smile it brought to your face, he wanted to do entire albums.

The two of you eat at the kitchen table because when you suggested the couch, Hangman teased, “We’re not hooligans.”

He sets the table and finds a random candle to light, but the scent smells awful so you blow it out immediately.

Honestly, the pancakes are delicious. You expected them to be nothing special -- because they’re pancakes -- but somehow he has made the best damn pancakes you’ve ever had. And it infuriates you.

The two of you bicker about how to load the dishwasher because it’s not the best, so you have to be picky about where certain things are placed unless you want the house to flood.

Then, on your way to the couch, you bicker about what movie to watch because his taste in movies is horseshit and he says the same about yours, but neither of you really mean it.

And eventually, he ends the arguing by kissing you to shut you up.

“God, you irritate me,” you say in between kisses.

“Same here,” he mutters, absolutely devouring your mouth. “Can we just--” he pauses because you keep kissing him, like you’ve been in a desert for three years and have finally found an oasis. “Shit.”

“Mhm,” you nod, pausing your kisses only for him to chase you down. At least this time he begins kissing your neck so you can talk, but you can’t think and you’re already out of breath. “What were you saying?”

He lifts his head, chest heaving, pupils blown. He’s a goner, yet still he says, “We don’t have to do anything else if you’re not comfortable or, you know, or ready, I just-- I just really needed to kiss you.”

You smile, cupping his cheek. “I really appreciate that,” you murmur. “But if you don’t fuck me in the next fifteen minutes, I’m kicking you out.”

In one swift move, Hangman has you lying on your back and he’s hovering above you. “Don’t worry about that, honey,” he says. “I just needed you to say the word.”

“Thank god,” you laugh, reaching up to grab his face and pull his lips back down to yours.

He lowers his body onto yours and you can feel just how excited he is, especially when his hips jerk involuntarily against your stomach.

“Having problems?” you tease, your fingertips already wandering to the hem of his t-shirt.

“None at all,” he replies, getting your message and yanking his shirt over his head.

You’ve seen him shirtless before, of course, but that time was different. Something about seeing him up close this time, just above you, makes it that much hotter.

“What are you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?”

“What kind of lover you are,” you reply. Not a total lie.

“Depends,” he says with that wild grin of his.

You raise an eyebrow. “On what?”

“On what kind of day it’s been for you, for me,” he says. “And it depends on what you need.”

“You have got to stop being so smooth.”

“No can do, sweetheart,” he says. “I don’t know how.”

You pull his face down to yours again, wanting to feel his lips and tongue against yours. He kisses you for a few moments before he pulls away again, making you frown.

“What do you need tonight?” he asks, and you can tell he’s dead serious.

“You,” you answer. “I just need you.”

“You have me,” he says. “What else?”

“I don’t have you until I have you inside of me,” you reply.

“Now who’s being smooth?” he teases, already working his pants down his legs. He kicks them off and leaves his boxers, focusing on you for the moment. “Can I take this off?”

You grin. “Thought you’d never ask.”

With all of your clothes gone except your underwear, you lift your back to allow Hangman to unclip your bra -- which he does with scary precision. Once it’s off, Hangman immediately cups your breasts in both hands, and dives for your neck, no doubt leaving marks.

“Jesus christ,” you mutter, not prepared at all for how he goes from 0 to 100 every time. His boxers are on, but his hips are grinding against yours seemingly on their own.

His lips travel from your cheeks to your lips as his hands move south. One wraps around your back to pull you into his body, and the other finds its way into your underwear. He snakes one finger inside you and you cry out, which just lets his tongue race for yours.

He pulls back, though, feeling your walls already beginning to flutter around his finger. “Shit,” he says. “I have to taste you-- Can I taste you?”

You’re barely able to say yes before he’s moving down your body, leaving small kisses in his wake. He tugs your panties down your legs and tosses them somewhere before parting your thighs.

“You’re so pretty, darlin’,” he whispers, his thumbs massaging your thighs. His voice alone makes you shift your hips, opening your legs wider for him. He takes the invitation.

You’ve let a man go down on you once before, but he wasn’t good and you never tried again. Hangman is very obviously a different story, based on the sheer fact that he has you cumming just seconds after his lips zero in on your clit. This is not a man who is afraid of worshiping you.

He works his fingers into you and you reach your second climax in no time. He curls his fingers ever so slightly as your body shakes for him.

“I don’t wanna leave this view,” he chuckles, but you’re already tugging at his shoulders, demanding he return to kissing you.

“Get these off,” you mutter, accidentally snapping the elastic of his boxers.

“Ow!” he feigns hurt. “Feisty.” He kicks his boxers off and you feel him rest against your stomach, hard and warm. “Better?”

“Much,” you grin, kissing him while your hand sneakily moves down to wrap around him.

His hips stutter when he feels your hand and he groans into your mouth, nearly collapsing on top of you. “Give a man some warning, will you?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you laugh, slowly moving your hand, which you know must be torturing him. “Did you bring a condom?”

His head drops into your neck. “Fuck.”

“I’m taking that as a no,” you reply.

“I didn’t think, honey, I’m sorry,” he says, lifting his head, and when he looks into your eyes, he’s genuinely regretful.

“I’m on birth control,” you say. “And I’m clean. Haven’t been with anyone for years.”

“I’m clean, too,” he says. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

“You’d be outside right now if I wasn’t,” you tease. “I’m fine with it if you are.”

“Of course I’m fine with it,” he replies, kissing your nose. “But you need to stop before I cum.”

You quickly remove your hand, not wanting him to finish just yet. You’d much rather he did that inside of you than all over your stomach.

Neither of you can wait any longer. You help guide his head inside, arching your back at the feel of him sliding home. When he’s fully seated inside of you, he pauses, taking deep breaths. You can feel him twitching, you know he’s using all of his strength to not cum right away, and somehow that makes it even hotter.

“You need to move,” you groan. “I need you to move, Jake, please.”

“Say that again.”

You almost didn’t hear him. “What?”

“Say it again,” he says, pressing his hips even closer to yours.

“Please,” you say, not even sure if that’s what he wants, but you’re getting desperate. “Please, move, Jake-- fuck!”

He goes slow, but it’s enough. His strokes are long and deep, and each one leaves you writhing and begging for more.

“You want me to go faster?” he says, lips sucking at your neck. “Beg for it.”

“Oh my god.” You hate him. You hate him so much. “Please, harder, Jake, please.”

“That’s my girl,” he says, then does exactly as you wish.

His hips slam into yours at a blinding pace. You’re given no warning before you cum for the third time tonight, holding onto Jake for dear life as he doesn’t slow down at all, chasing his own release. Even as you feel him cumming inside of you, his hips don’t falter. Instead, he holds you tighter, moaning into your neck as your walls flutter around him, struggling to calm down.

With your chests heaving, you stay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, for who knows how long.

You scratch small circles on the back of his head, and he falls asleep in no time, shifting most of his weight toward the back of the couch so he isn’t crushing you entirely. You follow him to sleep a few moments later.

#gravedigger’s daughter #jake hangman seresin #hangman top gun #hangman top gun fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x fem!reader #jake hangman seresin x you #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #hangman x fem!reader #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman smut

[masterwords]

blue christmas

Summary: Spencer finds the perfect opportunity to show Luke that he'd like to kick their relationship up a notch.

Pairing: Luke Alvez/Spencer Reid

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: references to Spencer's time in prison, PTSD mention, reference to Spencer's mother's illness, loneliness and Christmas...that being said, this is a happy love filled romantic comfort story.

Read on AO3: blue christmas

Author's Notes: This is my discord Secret Santa gift for @merpancake! It took me out of my comfort zone and I hope I did them justice. You asked for Spencer being the one to make a gesture and boy did he ever! Thank you for challenging me, and thank you for being you. I know you've had a rough year and I hope that this brings at least a small smile to your face. Much love to you my friend! <3 Merry Happy Winter Holidays!

**

It was Penelope’s idea. He kept telling himself that as he stood surveying his apartment, the vintage garland strung up over his prized bookshelves and a small, somewhat bare tree lit up in the corner where his favorite chair should have been. Spencer didn’t like change, and the tree had caused some considerable change but it was the only place he could put it. A lit tree needed to be near a window, on display, and he had to admit that it did look very pretty from the street. Inviting. Warm. Festive. Things that didn’t usually describe his apartment this time of year.

“You don’t have to decorate,” Penelope had said with a smile. “It’s just...you have room, your place is bigger than mine. And we always do this stuff at Rossi’s.”

“Because he has a mansion,” Spencer pointed out with a smirk. She nodded.

“Sure, and that’s fun...but sometimes it’s nice to be a little more cozy.”

What she really meant, he realized, was that his apartment was quiet and sad and more of a place for him to close himself off than anything else. It had always been that way, perhaps, but it was definitely worse since he’d been in prison. She wasn’t wrong.

So, it was Penelope’s idea, and she planned the food and drinks and the Secret Santa exchange...all he had to do was open his door and let everyone in. The decorations came from a box he’d had stashed in his coat closet, way up high, gathering dust. Decorations from when he was a child, things he thought might be lauded as containing poison nowadays but brought back good memories. His mother would put them up even after his father left, she would deck their halls to make him feel something good for the season. And she managed it during the good times and the bad times, it was always something she insisted on. Even if she had never been a fan of the holiday herself, and even if it was the wrong time of year when she did it. More than once he’d woken to Christmas garlands and a full stocking in the middle of July, that was just how it was. And it was okay by him, he’d learned to accept that time didn’t move the same for his mother as it did for everyone else.

And now he was following in her footsteps, throwing decorations over his belongings for the benefit of other people. The garland was shedding all over his floor, scraps of silvery tinsel on hard wood.

Surprisingly, once the apartment was full of twinkling lights and silver garland, it made him smile too. Even the mess was festive.

“Oh, Boy Wonder, you did so good!” Penelope gushed when she walked in, her arms full of bags.

That was how it started, with her oohing and aahing over all of his vintage decorations, over how much space he had, over how many books he had. She’d only been here once or twice before and every time she managed to forget how lovely his place was. Not that she was surprised in the least. It suited him in every single way. “People will be here soon! Are you excited?”

“I uh…” he started, eyes darting over all of the once empty surfaces she’d covered with punch bowls and food trays almost instantly. His apartment looked like a party now. “Yes. Actually. I am.” He was a little surprised to admit that, a little surprised that it wasn’t a lie.

By the time his apartment was full of people, he was regretting it. Just a little. After spending nearly a year locked up, he didn’t do crowds well. They set his nerves on fire and he found himself looking over his shoulder anxiously whether it was warranted or not. In this case, it wasn’t, not even a little...these people were his family...but every movement out of his periphery made his heart jump. He was wishing the party was over and it had barely even begun.

“Secret Santa time!” Penelope exclaimed, waving her arms in the air to get everyone’s attention. “Everyone go find your gift on the table and open them.”

Spencer watched the crush of bodies headed for the little table and waited patiently until it cleared before going and grabbing his, the only one left. He held it close to his chest , unopened, while watching everyone else tear into theirs. Luke in particular.

He’d manipulated his way into being Luke’s Secret Santa, and while that wasn’t strictly against any rules Penelope had laid out he had felt at least a little guilty for ruining the sanctity of random. It was just...they’d been seeing each other casually for a few months, and he’d found himself more than a little bored by it. Not in a way that meant he wanted to stop, but in a way he hadn’t ever really felt before...he was ready to kick it up a notch. Luke looked into the box full of dog toys, little stuffed elves and reindeer and coffee cups and smiled that bright, intoxicating smile that said Spencer had done well. Very well. When their eyes met he mouthed thank you and Spencer could feel the butterflies in his stomach, a warmth that spread from his chest down into his pants. If they were alone right now that smile would be enough to make him drag Luke into the bedroom, it held that much power over him. Instead, Spencer inclined his head briefly, nodding for Luke to meet him in the kitchen.

There, he presented Luke with another gift, one not intended to be opened in front of a crowd. Just a small box he’d been holding in his pocket. An unmarked little white thing with a bright red bow wrapped around it, simple and elegant. “You proposing to me, Agent Reid?” Luke asked with a smirk and a wink. Spencer flushed. That didn’t help that growing warmth in his belly.

“Just open it before I regret it.”

“You never asked my ring size…”

“You know what? I’m taking it back.” Spencer reached out for the box and Luke playfully batted him away.

“Mine,” Luke huffed, delicately untying the bow and popping the lid open. Inside, nestled in a cloudy bed of cotton, was a gleaming silver key. Brand new, freshly cut. Luke grinned. “I’ve always wanted a key,” he said, always the jokester. Spencer reached into his pocket and procured his own keychain, holding up one that matched the key in the box. A little worse for the wear, a little worn down, but a perfect match.

“I’m not sure we’re ready to move in together,” Spencer started, the flush rising from his neck into his cheeks. His skin prickled beneath his wool sweater. “But I thought maybe you’d like to have a key to my place. It’s closer to work, so if you leave late and need a place to crash...or you know...you can just come in. Anytime.”

“Spencer Reid…” Luke said, stepping closer. “Are you sure?” He knew how Spencer felt about his privacy, and how he’d struggled against the PTSD prison left him with. Sharing his apartment in this way felt...well...huge. Unbelievably huge. Luke almost couldn’t believe it.

“I um, yeah. I’m sure. Come here…” he said, grabbing Luke by the hand and dragging him out into the hallway and toward his bedroom. Everyone was so occupied by their gifts and the music that they didn’t seem to notice the two of them had gone missing. “I got you a toothbrush to keep here...and…” he opened a drawer on his dresser, empty where it hadn’t been the day before. “And your own drawer. If you want it.”

“If I want it?” Luke asked, cocking his head to the side. “Spencer…” But he didn’t know the words to adequately sum up how he felt, so he just reached up and hooked Spencer by the back of the neck before pulling him in for a kiss. Spencer tasted like candy canes, his lips sticky from the candy he’d been nervously eating since the party started. Luke had been watching him with the candy cane in his mouth since he’d come in, it was driving him absolutely insane with want. “I love it.”

“You do?” Spencer asked cautiously. “Really?”

“I do. Merry Christmas Spencer,” Luke whispered into another peppermint sugar kiss, this time deeper, hungrier. He was craving candy canes now too.

“Merry Christmas Luke.”

#spencer reid #luke alvez #ralvez #discord secret santa! <3

[leventart-den]

I love seeing Sanji and Zoro trying to recover from a bad fight together

Just…. Both of them in pain, maybe some blood??? That’s good shit right there

Just them being quiet trying to patch the other up, because Chopper already has enough on his.. hooves? And they don’t want to be a burden

You don’t even have to draw this, I just want your opinion on this???? It is VERY important I swear

Dearest Anony!

I swear I'll draw this, I really like the idea! But since this is VERY important, I cannot remain silent and leave you for days without an answer.

Plus, damn, I love this kind of stuff, I could talk about it for hours (if I didn't have to use an online translator because my written English is non-existent).

AN (Me from the future while I was writing what is below): I tried to be short but I was carried away. Thanks for the inspiration, by the way. I'm sorry for all the blood. But I hope that you like it overall and that my answer will brighten up your time at least a little!

AN2 (even further in the future when I finished writing): When I have time I'll rewrite this into a fanfic, if you don't mind, dear Anony.

P.S. to everyone who wrote prompts for art - I will draw each of them, I promise! Thank you very much, they are wonderful! One Piece Art prompts are open for an unlimited time.

***

What I picture in my head when I read your prompt:

It’s time after a heavy battle, they are on the ship, everyone is tired, it’s the afternoon, calm and very quiet. Sanji and Zoro seem to be fine at first glance, and Chopper is so tired that he doesn't have the strength to insist on checking their condition, so he lets them go, immediately falling asleep at the table. It's so hot on the deck, almost suffocating without the wind, but Sanji and Zoro go downstairs to where provisions are stored, barrels of alcohol and where it's cool.

Sanji limps to his usual place, to a box against the wall on which he sits down heavily, leaning against the wooden surface and exhaling a cloud of smoke from the smoldering cigarette now clutched in his fingers. It's stained with blood.

Zoro glances at him briefly and silently heads to the far corner, pulling out a box of first aid from behind the drawers. It's a familiar routine by this point. They are both strong and both don't want to be a burden to Chopper when it can be avoided. They're both stupid like this. So of course at some point in their journey they came to this silent agreement mending each other's wounds and here they are. Again.

Zoro places the box on a nearby drawer and sits down opposite Sanji. The cook takes another drag and finally puts out the cigarette on the wall, throwing the cigarette butt into the iron tin can nearby, which he placed for such purposes. He grunts, finally opening the box and taking out everything he needs while Zoro takes off his shirt.

There is no tightness or awkwardness between them about such things. Not anymore. 

Sanji begins by treating the nasty gash on his forehead. It turned out to be difficult to wipe off all the blood; head wounds usually bleed a lot. Although, with his experience up to this point, he gets the job done quite quickly. Next come the wounds on the arms and torso. There are several cuts and spreading bruises. Zoro has a couple of broken ribs. He drinks a few drinks from the bottle while Sanji stitches up a particularly deep cut near his collarbone and tightens bandages around his chest and torso.

They don't talk during the process, they are too tired even for their usual banter and jokes towards each other. They would probably rather go to bed now, but the risk of upsetting and angering Chopper later is too great. So they will finish what they started, despite the fact that Zoro is half asleep and Sanji's movements are getting slower.

The air becomes heavy with blood and now the smell of tobacco is added to it. Sanji lights another cigarette and Zoro opens his eyes watching him. The cook's hands are shaking, he notes. He runs his eyes over his entire form, noting his injuries. He doesn't see much but Curly looks pale. His gaze falls down. There is a pool of blood on the floor under his feet. Zoro swears soundlessly. Looks like the shitty cook has got his legs messed up.

Zoro gives him a very meaningful look and Sanji sighs. He bites the cigarette between his teeth and fumbles with the waistband of his trousers, but his fingers are too weak right now. 

Zoro watches him for a few seconds and clenches his teeth because of the pain in his ribs, but still gets up and leans towards the cook, pushing his hands away and helping with the clothes. Sanji lifts himself off the box as far as he can, allowing him to pull his trousers down, and then leans heavily against the wall again. His cigarette is smoldering, he is too sleepy to even smoke.

Zoro, meanwhile, examines his legs. There are several deep cuts and his left ankle is swollen and his knees are bruised. Zoro thinks that he shouldn't be surprised, after all, the shitty cook's legs are his weapons, the main blows fall on them, but still. If some of the cuts had been any higher they could have cut the artery and then the cook would have been dead. Zoro finds himself observing all the old scars that cover his skin. He shakes his head, pushing away the thoughts; now is not the time for them.

At this moment, the pale bloodstained hand falls down and the half-smoked cigarette slips out of limped fingers onto the floor. Zoro's gaze shoots up, he feels pressure in his chest for a second and it's not his broken ribs.

But Sanji's breathing is calm and measured. The cook just fell asleep, it seems.

The swordsman releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Okay.

This is okay.

Everything is fine.

He picks up the cigarette from the floor, puts it out and throws it into the jar with the others. Zoro winces at the movement. His damn ribs hurt with the adrenaline gone, but he'll take care of this stupid cook anyway.

He gets rid of the blood around the wounds and stitches them up, trying to keep his hands as stable as possible. It turns out to be more difficult than it seemed, but he tries. He bandages Sanji's legs after and takes off his shoes with socks, checking his ankles and feet.

It looks like nothing was broken, probably just a sprain, so for now Zoro will do what he can and tomorrow Sanji will turn to Chopper himself if necessary.

After a few minutes and tending to a few other cuts and bruises here and there, Zoro looked over his work and decided he was done. The cook didn’t even flinch during all this time and it looked worrying if it weren’t for the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest from breathing. He really lost a lot of blood. Zoro decided not to even try to wake him.

Grunting, he bent down, pulling his pants up to his knees and then moved the cook's motionless body closer to himself, leaning back a little so that he would lean against him and Zoro could pull his pants all the way up. He carefully returned Sanji to his seat and sighed wearily as he buttoned up his pants. Zoro felt exhausted by this point. He wasn't sure he could make it upstairs to the cabins with Sanji as dead weight.

So after a few seconds of hesitation, Zoro went to the corner where they kept all sorts of extra things and fished out a heavy animal skin with thick fur and a couple of blankets. He placed it on the floor next to Sanji and carefully moved him onto the makeshift bed, throwing a blanket over him. He watched as Sanji reflexively curled up on himself, burying his face in the soft fur. The cook always sleeps like this, as if he is trying to hide. It never sits right with Zoro. It looks wrong. 

One day he will find out why. But now Zoro settles down next to Sanji, wrapping his arm around him on top of the blanket and holding him close to himself. He feels the other man's shoulders relax and his breath a little too hot on his collarbone. His nose is cold against Zoro's skin. Zoro suddenly feels like he won't be able to sleep, but he buries his face in the cook's hair, which smells of cherry tobacco, sea and spices, and listens to his heartbeat against his skin.

He falls asleep within seconds.

#sanji #zoro #zosan #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #one piece #art prompt turned into writing prompt #I'll still draw this I swear #blood and injury #this is my type of fluff and domesticity #Zoro cursed in his head trying to get rid of the blood on Sanji's hairy legs #next time Sanji finds a razor in the first aid box #Leventart answers