#oh if its not clear she got fuckin SHOT IN THE HEAD

[eddieswh0r]

Before He Cheats.

EddieXyou

Little one shot based on the song Before He Cheats.

Just imagine the song was released in '86🙈

Also may or may not have stolen a scene from another tv show 👀

Summary; You're late for one of Eddie's gigs at the hideout but things fall apart right before your eyes.

Warnings; Angst, heartbreak, cheating, public kissing, brief mentions of sex

8:17pm the alarm clock flashed red and if you didn't get a move on you were sure to miss the whole set. You'd promised Eddie you wouldn't be far behind him as he left in a huff without you to go meet his fellow Corroded Coffin band mates at the hideout, you told him you just needed to do your hair, which you both knew was a lie. You'd normally be ready by now and make your way over with Eddie but he had other plans, other plans being that he couldn't leave without making sure your legs were shaking and the contents of his balls were emptied inside you. After the tough couple of weeks you'd both had, you both needed that release. You'd not touched each other in weeks, which for Eddie, was unusual. His behavior had been all round strange, you'd barely seen each other and you felt un-wanted, but its not like you even bothered to make an effort with him, you didn't care, if anything you were glad. You'd been arguing a lot more and instead of going round to his after work you'd go straight home, you'd avoid his calls and go days without seeing him. You squeezed your thighs together and bit down on your still puffy bottom lip as you visualized what had happened moments before, shaking your head to rid the image you hopped out the shower, wrapping a towel around you, you made your way to the bedroom to start on your makeup straight away. You actually couldn't wait to see him, doing what he did best, making you proud. It had been a long time since you last saw him perform.

. . .

A smoky eye paired with a deep red lip was your finished look as your black hair fell to the middle of your back. A quick glance at the clock, 9:21pm "Fuck. Where the fuck is my purse" you muttered running round the trailer while trying to pull on a knee length, heeled boot. Hanging over the clothes rail you caught the glisten of the shiny black faux crocodile skin strap in the light, you tugged it off and threw it over your shoulder, rushing to make your way out the door to your car, not before spinning on your heel and hitting your hip, with a yelp of pain, on the kitchen counter to grab your car keys, uttering curse words and slamming the trailer door you jumped in your car. Shoving the key in the ignition you glanced in the mirror to check the path was clear, rolling your eyes you snatched out the roller you'd left in your bangs. You shifted the gear into reverse and then forwards and put your foot down speeding off with a screeching wheel spin, kicking up dust from the gravel under the tyres. Unbeknownst to you Eddie was trying to call you only to receive a dial tone, you'd accidently knocked the phone off the hook as you'd slammed the door behind you.

A slam of the receiver and Eddie turned to his band mates "Fuck it, she's not coming boys. I'm not waiting any longer." He picked up his guitar and went out on stage.

9:39pm. It was only 10 minutes to the hideout but you'd been stuck behind the slowest old lady going 25mph, you'd beeped, tried to over take and even driven right up her ass, but eventually gave up when she didn't take the hint. "He's gonna be so pissed with me" you sighed gripping the steering wheel, turning your knuckles white. "Ten fuckin' minutes i told him, 'oh i wont be far behind you babe'" you mimicked your own words in a silly voice.

10:02pm. Slamming the car door behind you, you hitched your purse onto your shoulder while calling the old lady every name under the sun. You heard no band playing as you got closer to the door, just the faint sounds of whatever was playing on the jukebox, your heart sank, you'd missed his set and man was he gonna be upset. They only play half an hour and you couldn't even manage to fucking make it. By this point you knew Eddie thought you just weren't gonna turn up, you knew him too well. Or so you thought.

As you slid in through the door, you made your way over to a dim lit corner and you took a seat. Looking towards the stage you could see Jeff struggling to take an amp through the back with a disgruntled look on his face. Where was Eddie? that's his amp. A loud crash made you jump and avert your gaze, now over to Gareth who was flailing his arms in the air, shooting angry glances ahead of him. Boy, if looks could kill. Part of his drum set scattered between the floor and the entry to out the back. He looked pissed. Your brow furrowed as you slowly moved your eyes across the room. A bleached -blonde girl was bent over the pool table, cue in hand while giggling and pushing her ass out. "Jesus, what a tramp" mid roll of your eyes you caught sight of the person behind her. Bent over her, face in the crook of her neck, very clearly pressing his crotch into her fucking ass, showing her how to shoot a combo. Your eyes slowly scanned him, from head to toe. Brown curls that fell to his shoulders, plump lips, a dirty smirk, a necklace with a plectrum attached. Tears pricked your eyes, a hand covered your open mouth, you didn't want to carry on looking but it was like a car crash, you couldn't turn away. A denim battle vest with the sleeves cut away, a motorhead patch, a w.a.s.p pin. You're eyes made their way to his face, What felt like barbed wire gripped your throat, you could see it, right there in his eyes. The lust. The same lust that you knew, come to think of it, that look of lust wasn't even there not 3 hours before when you were underneath him, moaning his name. "Eddieeee, you're a tease" loud giggles knocked you from your train of thought as you saw him, right there in front of you, their position had changed, although still pressed against a pool table, she was now facing him as he nibbled on her earlobe. Your heart ached at the sight. Never would you think Eddie would do something like this, never in a million years.

You'd snuck round to the side of the bar out of their view, sat on a barstool, you'd thrown back almost three quarters of a bottle of Whiskey and the anger built up inside. You watched them as the night went on, every little thing they did, how he bought her drink after drink, obviously something with a low percentage and fruity as she cant handle shooting whiskey, she'd previously sang some white trash version of something on the karaoke. "I'm s-sooo drunk Eddie" she giggled, hiccupping, rubbing her hands over his chest and down to his waist, up and down his torso, the same torso that was not long sweating on top of you earlier that night. "I know sweetheart" a shit eating grin across his face as his hands explore her ass and his lips crashed down onto hers. Sweetheart? No. Please, he didn't just fucking say your pet name to that girl right before he kissed her. Your fists bunched up at the side of you as the tears fell thick and fast down your cheeks, you stood up knocking the stool over and you held onto the bar for support. Stumbling outside you rummaged in your purse and grabbed your keys, making way over to your car you caught a glance of his van, the left corner of your mouth turned up into a smirk as you ran towards his van.

The screeching noise from the keys dragging deeply over the sides of his van were unbearable, it was a clapped out banger anyway, this only made it look better. You knew he always left it unlocked when at the hideout so they could either pack up quickly or so he could come to his van to smoke a quick j. You threw the doors open and picked up what you knew he kept in there. “It’s just for emergencies baby, just in case a deal goes wrong or, or we need back up” his words echoed in your mind. Two smashes later and you’d completely busted his headlights. “Hm this baseball bat DID come in handy” you laughed to yourself as you took a big swing to his drivers side window, climbing inside you took a pocket knife hidden inside his glovebox “y/n” you carved into each of his seats, laughing manically while the tears still fell fast, cheeks stained with mascara. You sat for a moment, a wave of guilt washing over you. Fuck. All you wanted most was his arms around you , telling you everything was okay, that he loved his sweetheart so much. Faint laughter soon stopped that thought and through the wing mirror you saw them, making their way over to his van, his arms draped over her as he followed behind still nuzzling her neck. You swiftly kicked the dented door open with some force and jumped down, leaning against the door you waited.

"Eddie, baby. When are you gonna tell her? You said you would and that was weeks ago" her whiney voice made your hairs stand up on end, there's that barbed wire feeling around your throat again, your eyes narrowed and before you knew it, you'd made your way around the van, four hissing tyres quickly releasing the air that was once held in them. "Hey!! what the fuck you doing? hey!! you!!" The hissing sound drew Eddies attention quickly as he started jogging over. "I'm fucking talking to you asshole, that's my fuc-." Eddies eyes widened as he recognized your face as you slowly rose up from beside the tyre. His whole demeanor changed from flirty, happy Eddie to kicked puppy Eddie.

"Y/n.. sweetheart, wh-what are you doing? You know that's my van right baby?" as Eddie took a step towards you, you moved back. "Edsss, what is going on, baby i wanna go HOME" the shrillness of her voice was intolerable. "Yeah, 'Eds'. What IS going on.." you folded your arms across your chest stepping out into the light. "Eds, who is this? Tell her to beat it" she shrilled, with a roll of your eyes and a scoff leaving your mouth, you moved a few steps forward, standing in front of her, you could see her bright pink lipstick faded, her hair clearly not a natural blonde and her blue eyeshadow was smeared. "Oh, me? Who am i? No honey, that's not the question you wanna be asking" I was his girlfriend. As you circled her, eyeing her up and down, Eddie watched closely, eyes wide. "The question you should be asking is, why have i wasted my entire night watching a cheap two bit whore and someone who was my boyfriend all over each other the entire night, playing fucking tonsil tennis?" you glared at Eddie with narrow eyes as he looked down at the floor. Coward. A cackling laugh brought you from your stare "Listen i don't know what imaginary world you live in darlin', but me and Eds have been together for a few weeks now" she finished with a toss of her hair and a stupid smirk. Everything was slowly coming together, it was her. She was the reason for his behavior. Your heart felt like it'd been taken out and stamped on. "...So if you don't mind, honey. Me and Eds are going home" your hand gripped the pocketknife still within your grip, knuckles turning white at the pressure. The most deranged laugh pulled itself from within your throat "A few weeks? Try 6 fuckin' years SWEETHEART." Your hand which held the pocketknife slowly lifted itself up to her face like it had mind of it's own, the girl stepped backward but you followed forward. "Edsss g-get this psycho away from meeee" the shrieks echoed the Hideouts parking lot and with a lunge forward, still holding up the pocketknife you shouted "BOO!" you couldn't hold the laughter in as she ran away screaming. You threw the knife through the smashed window as you just stood there, "Look Y/n.. I- I wanted to tell you, i thought i should, I really was going to, and then Steve convinced me not too" you just blinked at him, in shock most of all. That fucking asshole Steve, you wanted to kill him. "Do you realise none of this would've happened if over these past few weeks i didn't think that you didn't wanna be with me?"

"Alright, lets say i met someone else and, and you found out in a bar where you were running late and you got there to find me practically fucking on a pool table and THEN Eddie, you find out I've been fucking him for weeks, no. actually. not just fucking but we're together, in love with each other, fucking every day and every night, holding each other i-in bed, cuddling, would you be able to forgive me?" a choked sob escaped your lips as you imagined Eddie doing all that with her.

"Yes. I would"

"You'd have been okay with me being with another man? Kissing him, been naked with him, made love to him?"

"Yes"

"If you knew our hot, sweaty, tangled bodies..."

"LA LA LA LAAAA" Eddie cut you off by covering his ears and shouting, "Okay! Okay!! yeah, i would have been devastated but, i- i would still want to be with you, because i mean, its you. Its always been you, since kindergarten, always you"

You had found yourself sitting on the floor, back leaning on his dented van, it had been silent for over fifteen minutes now, you had no words after what he said, nothing. He sat perched on his drivers seat facing outwards and looking down at you the whole time, your head tucked down into your knees and your arms cradling around them.

"What, you're not even talking to me now?" Eddie jumped down and sat cross legged beside you, facing you, "I-I'm sorry okay? I'm sorry. I was out of my mind, I thought I'd lost you. I didn't know what to do. C'mon! C'mon, how insane must i have been to do something like this? huh? I-I don't cheat right? I-, that's not me, I'm not Steve. Y'know, Y'know what? I'm- I'm not the one who pushed me away, okay? You're the one who bailed on us, you're the one who ran when things got a little tough."

"That's fucking bullshit and you know it Eddie, That's absolute straight bullSHIT"

"Okay, well here we are. Now we're in a tough spot again y/n. What do you wanna do? How do you wanna handle it? Huh? Do you wanna fight for us? Or-Or, Do you wanna bail? Look, I.." Eddies eyes filled with tears "..I did a terrible, stupid, stupid thing. Okay? And I'm sorry, i wish i could take it back but i cant, i just cant see us throwing away something we know is so damn good. Y/n, i love you so much." Eddie leans forward and kisses your shoulder, moving up to kiss the side of your face and finally pressing his lips to yours.

"No Eddie!!" you stand up, moving away from him. "Don't! You cant just kiss me and think you're gonna make it all go away, okay? It doesn't work like that. It doesn't just make it better. Okay?" you sigh "I think i should go" your voice soft and small. Eddie stands and moves in front of you.

"Look, look. There's got to be a way we can work past this? okay?" Eddie takes hold of your arm gently, "I cant imagine my life without you.." The both of you start to cry, looking deep into each others eyes "..Without- Without these arms, and your face, and this heart. Your good heart Y/n." Suddenly Eddie drops to his knees and hugs you tightly around your waist. "..And.. And.." He sniffles.

"No, I cant. you're a totally different person to me now. I used to think of you as somebody that would never, ever hurt me, ever. God. and now i just cant stop picturing you with her. I cant." Eddie slowly stands up backing away "..It doesn't matter what you say or what you do Eddie, its just changed everything, forever." Tears are falling thick and fast down both your cheeks.

Eddie shakes his head, placing his hand on your cheek "Yeah, but this cant be it?" His voice cracks and hurt pangs through your chest.

"Then how come it is?"

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likes/rb/comments are appreciated 💜

#eddie munson #joseph quinn #joe quinn #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things x y/n #eddie my beloved #munson #eddie fluff #eddie angst #heartbreak

[jungle-angel]

His Funny Familiars (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: You thought wifey’s familiars were a sight to see?? Wait untill you meet Rhett’s

Tagging: @sebsxphia​ Hon the video that inspired this was too cute to pass up and I couldn’t resist (lol). 

“Fuckin hoodlums,” Rhett muttered as he carefully pulled the prybar from the fencepost for the nine millionth time in a row. Why the hell was Wabang full of so many disrespectful little shits from out of town who thought they owned everyone and everything? 

He pulled the prybar loose, his face taking on a pinched look as the pain in his hand shot up into his arm and elbow. “Ya’ll better get that checked out,” remarked a familiar drawl. “Fractures can lead to something worse.” 

Rhett turned his head to see Billy Tillerson making his way down the hill with a wicker basket in his hands, his eyes looking more tired than usual. “And you’d better get some rest,” Rhett chuckled. 

“Oh believe me, I am,” Billy answered. “Gotta get it now while I can. Shania’s gonna have the baby soon.” 

“Six more days,” Rhett assured him. “Six more days and the little guy’s comin.” 

“Don’t remind me,” Billy laughed as he set to work, helping Rhett repair the fence. 

The two of them bantered back and forth as the early morning sunrise began to peek over the hills, the mists surrounding the hills as the chilly spring morning welcomed the day. Rhett loved mornings like this, cool, misty and with hints of sharp moisture and the smell of grass in the air. 

“Oh by the way,” Billy said. “I made a little something for your Ma last week. (Y/n) was kind enough to share the recipe with us.” 

“Her Irish Soda Bread?” 

“The very one.” 

Rhett’s huge grin grew bigger as he hammered in another nail when all of a sudden he caught sight of a familiar ringed tail hanging over the edge of the basket. 

“Hey! Meeko, outta there you little ring-tailed thief!” 

The baby raccoon chittered and squeaked as though he had understood Rhett perfectly, his chubby little body dropping into the grass and zooming straight to his master like a tame dog. 

“That thing’s tamer than our dog,” Billy laughed. 

“Probably because (y/n) and I feed him and his siblings all the damn time,” Rhett replied. 

Billy’s head suddenly looked up to see a dreaded sight making its way over to the fence along a path from the road. “Uh oh,” he groaned. 

“What’s up?” 

“Brace yourself,” Billy said under his breath. “The gorgon approaches.” 

There she was, Gale Burch, that pinch faced menace from up the road, her grey hair cut into a neat pageboy, her grey dress stiff and without a single wrinkle in it, black shoes holding in her feet while on her elbow was a little black purse hanging from a thin silver chain. God she looked evil, more evil than she usually did when the Abbotts and the Tillersons saw her at St. Mike’s on Sunday mornings. 

“Ah just who I wanted to see,” Gale crowed. “The neighborhood heathen and his little accomplice.” 

Rhett cleared his throat and mustered all his strength to bite his tongue and be polite for once. “Good to see you Mrs. Burch.” 

“Oh spare me the polite façade,” Gale spat. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you Mr. Abbott. In fact, several.”

“Oh?” 

“Don’t play dumb with me you brainless sinful little twerp,” Gale hissed. “That disgusting little pest sitting there at your feet went rooting through my trash receptacles looking for his next meal. If it were up to me, I’d have it turned into a hat.” 

Meeko chittered and curled around Rhett’s ankle, covering his little eyes with his tiny paws. 

“Well, who knows, maybe it’ll cover the bald spot on the back of your head,” Rhett said with a smug little grin. 

“Oh you smart mouthed little shit!” Gale hissed. “You’re just like your mother. A hateful, godless little Irish heathen that breeds like a lowly rabbit!” 

Rhett’s blood began to boil as Gale walked away, her pointed, beaky nose in the air and an insatiable urge running through him to the core, the urge to bury Gale Burch in a hole so deep it might as well be on the nearest doorstep in hell. 

“Now Rhett, I wouldn’t....” 

“Oh I’m not gonna kill her,” Rhett said, cutting Billy off. “Believe me, I’ve got something better in mind.” 

Back to the house they went, where they found you in the kitchen and tiny little Hannah sitting on the counter, swinging her legs and her little socked feet as you scooped pumpkin cookie batter onto a tray. “Whatcha lookin for cowboy?” you asked him. 

“Lookin for that mealworm shit you bought for the raccoons,” Rhett answered as he searched the cabinets.

“On top of the fridge,” you answered. 

Rhett gently moved you sideways before grabbing the bag of mealworm and chow mix off the top of the refrigerator. “Might I ask what you plan on using that for?” you enquired, noticing the mischevous look in his eye. 

“You don’t need to know darlin, it’s all good,” Rhett answered as he and Billy traipsed back out the door. 

As soon as he was out of earshot, you peered out the kitchen window to find the two of them heading down the driveway hill in the direction of Gale Burch’s property. 

“Son of a bitch,” you whispered, rolling your eyes. 

“I know that whisper (y/n),” Cecelia remarked, picking Hannah up off the counter and onto her hip. “What are those two little weasels up to now?” 

“I don’t wanna know,” you answered, throwing up your hands. “They told me I didn’t need to know, so I’m not asking.” 

“Any idea where they’re going?” 

“Over towards the Burch property.” 

Cecelia made a face. “Wonder what old fish face did to’em now,” she seethed. “The other day she was giving Mrs. Garcia hell for her climbing roses being too tall.” 

“Well,” you said. “We’ll find out tomorrow what they were up to.” 

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

“Alright Meeko,” Rhett whispered to the little raccoon. “Go git’em.” 

Meeko climbed straight up the perfectly white picket fence and into Gale’s yard, dropping right into the neatly manicured grass to pick up a few of the mealworms, digging up the miserable witch’s vegetable beds like a kid in a sandbox. Betty Sullivan’s little chihuahua, Pinky, had attempted the same feat but had been met with the unfortunate wrath of Gale’s nasty cat, Gremlin. Rhett prayed that Meeko would make it out without arousing the wrath of that spoiled rotten little furball. 

“Ya’ll think he’s gonna make it out?” Billy asked. 

“He’s a smart little fucker, of course he’ll make it,” Rhett answered. 

The two of them tensed up when they heard the clanging and dropping of old glass bottles from the recycling cans. Their hearts threatened to beat out of their chests when they heard that horrid snarl and hissing that signaled Gremlin lurking about. 

“Oh shit,” Rhett said under his breath. 

Meeko hissed a second later, the two men only able to guess what was going on behind the fence, too nervous too look for themselves. Finally, Meeko wriggled his way out from under the fence, climbing straight into the curve of Rhett’s arms. 

“You little turd,” he chuckled. “Scarin us shitless like that.” 

“Holy shit!” Billy laughed. “Rhett, ya’ll gotta come and look at this.” 

Rhett peered over the fence, biting his lip as he held back a laugh. 

The garden beds were an absolute mess, dug up down to the roots with the vegetables all knocked over and the driveway littered with garbage from the trashcans. 

“C’mon,” Rhett told Billy, still holding on to Meeko. “Let’s get outta here before we get attacked by that monster cat of hers.” 

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

Rhett knelt beside the pew in the church, crossing himself before he scooted in next to you, Hannah, Royal and his mother, biting his lip as though a devilish little laugh could escape at any minute. 

“Rhett?” Cecelia whispered. 

Rhett snickered as the other parishioners began filing into the sun filled church. Sister Bernadette made her way down the aisle towards the front, her white hair completely hidden by her black habit. 

“Rhett James, what did you do?” Cecelia hissed, resisting the urge to hit him on the back of the head with a hymnal. 

Rhett didn’t answer her. He just kept his eyes on his hands that were folded in his lap, never once daring to look up at his mother. 

You and Cecelia cast each other a quick glance before you saw the sour looking Gale Burch walking into the church, mean as ever, muttering something under her breath about a raccoon tearing up her garden. Cecelia turned to Rhett, slackjawed, wide eyed and shocked as she clamped a hand over her mouth. 

“Oh my God, you didn’t,” she hissed under her breath. 

“I did.”

You laughed a little yourself before Father O’Keefe entered and the service began. You couldn’t wait to hear this one when you got home. 

#outer range #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #royal abbott #cecelia abbott #billy tillerson #lewis pullman #lewis pullman x reader

[neoelysium]

OtLWD: You Bleed for Me, I’ll Bleed for You

A/N: So… I couldn’t stop myself from writing a part two (and currently part three) to It’s Never Pleasure, It’s Always Work. These will probably mostly stay pretty short — think within 1000-3000 words or so a piece. Maybe some longer, depending. Got a clear idea of where this is going, only thing is how long it takes me to get there.

PART ONE HERE

Gen opened his eyes, having finally regained consciousness; looking around, he saw no sign of Vanity in the dark building, only the shattered chip a couple of feet away. Not that he was surprised, of course. He couldn’t have been knocked out for too long, he concluded, as the sun had not yet risen. He wiped the blood from his nose on the sleeve of his jacket — if only something could be done to remedy the ringing in his skull, he thought. He whimpered, clutching his head.

“Oh, God! Ugh.”

Something felt off. He wasn’t sure exactly what Vanity had done, other than the pistol whipping and the boot to the face, but he sensed an implant had been hacked, or disturbed in some way.

“What the actual fuck, Van?” He whined, sitting up, knees pressed against his chest. The ringing showed no signs of stopping, though he could hear something behind it. It sounded like… voices. “H-hello?”

The ringing was slowly replaced by the voices; he’d heard the stories of these particular voices before — they were not just any voices, but the voices of souls absorbed, fused into an AI existing deep within the abyss of physical cyberspace, known as the Breach. ‘MINDEYE’, an artificial intelligence originally developed by TriSec to help during their operations, to be exact.

“Holy shit, you’re kidding.”

“Hello, new user ‘Genesis Magellan’, also known by the alias ‘That Guy’.”

“No way. She connected me to fuckin’—”

“User Vanity requested that we personally remind you of the planned rendezvous at Astro’s in Langston Square. In case you had forgotten due to being knocked unconscious.”

“I remember. So, how long’s this, uh… whole thing between us going to last, give or take?”

“Vanity allowed us to access your consciousness, and your neural implant, while her own connection to us was waning. Approximately how long our connection will last is unknown. Because of its implant-based nature, our estimate is one to two weeks.”

“Stuck like this for two weeks… So, Van’s been working for TriSec, I take it? Seeing as she has authorization to use your services?”

“We are in no position to divulge that information. But yes.”

“Why did TriSec want that chip destroyed?” Gen questioned, cracking his neck with a pleasured sigh.

“That,” the voices replied, “we do not know, Genesis Magellan. Or do you prefer ‘That Guy’?”

Genesis sighed, resting a palm over his face. Fucking machines.

────────────

In Langston Square, at Astro’s, Vanity was having the time of her life, her bank account’s balance easily increased by double after the successful TriSec gig. ‘Business Vanity’ had all but totally disappeared; she was clearly dressed for the nightlife, replacing her turtleneck and battle leggings with a little black dress — her legs very visibly Bio-Skin implants from the knees down — and platform heels. She downed shot after shot, loosening up and dancing to the rhythm of the bar’s music. She had become lost in the beat, the strobe lights, the alcoholic buzz, when her party was interrupted by MINDEYE.

“Vanity, Genesis Magellan is currently on his way.”

“Already? Damn,” Vanity replied. “Sure recovered quick. Don’t know if you were watching, but that kick to the face was pretty damned solid.”

“Yes. He did not seem too pleased with our presence when he regained consciousness.”

“He’ll get over it,” Vanity asserted, leaning against the bar and downing another shot, her face contorting into a grimace as she swallowed the harsh whiskey. “He’s got more important things to worry about, anyway, I’d wager.”

“…about your history with this ‘Genesis Magellan’—”

Her brow furrowed. “Can it, bot.��

────────────

Genesis plodded down Wainsworth Avenue, along the Langston Square-Tesla Lake district line, MINDEYE still along for the ride in the corner of his mind. He could feel their lingering presence, even when their voices were silent.

“Not too much further to g—”

Suddenly, his neural implant’s communicator began to ring. It was the botched job’s client and contractor.

“Ah, fuck.”

He focused his mind, answering the call.

“Mr. Magellan… Surprised to get an answer from you, your sig went dark for three fucking hours.”

“Miss Bishop, I apologize profusely. The job…”

He garnered an exasperated sigh in response. “If you’re gonna tell me that you failed to get that chip…”

“I did, but the chip’s busted. Totally obliterated.”

“And, pray tell, how did that happen when the damned thing was supposed to be under your supervision?”

“Blindsided, attacked,” he began, thinking over his next words very carefully. “Looked like a Disciple to me.”

He felt a burning in his gut; he was lying to Eve Bishop, of all people, something he’d never had the courage to do before. For some reason, however, he felt it necessary to cover for Vanity in this situation. He may not have always approved of her methods and actions, but he didn’t want to see her seriously harmed.

“Disciples? You’re sure?”

“Saw what I thought was the patch on the sleeve — but it could’ve been some other insignia.” Playing the uncertainty card would either be extremely helpful or detrimental, he knew — he just had to have some kind of scapegoat for Eve to set her eyes upon.

“Interesting,” she remarked, sounding not entirely convinced by Gen’s story. “Half pay for this one, Mr. Magellan. I’ll be looking into this situation, for sure…”

“If you need any help, le—”

Eve had ended the transmission in the middle of his sentence; Genesis continued trudging along the sidewalk, rubbing the back of his neck gently, fingers tracing over the neural port.

“We cannot help but notice you lied.”

“Yeah… Whether or not I should have? Fuck, I don’t know…”

“‘When in doubt, tell the truth’ - Mark Twain.”

“If only it were that simple… you don’t understand — you can’t — not anymore.”

“We understand more than you think.”

────────────

Back at Astro’s, Vanity relaxed in the VIP lounge, laying down on a sectional; the room continued spinning, though her sick feeling had passed after she had rushed to the restroom earlier, throwing up in one of the bar’s toilets.

“No. More. Liquor.”

She closed her eyes tightly, groaning as she massaged her temples. Before long, a sturdy shadow spread over her figure, blocking the lights hanging above — she peeped through barely open eyelids to see Gen standing over her, head shaking from side to side.

“You came!”

“Yeah, because I wanna know exactly what the hell that was about. You know, around three hours ago?”

“I made lots of money. Probably cost you some, too, huh?” She smirked, her speech slurred.

“Landed me in deep shit, more like.”

“Aw, oh no… Is little Packie Wackie mad because I broke her chip?”

“Eve Bishop, actually.”

The revelation was quite sobering for Vanity, hitting her instantaneously with the force of a freight train.

“Ahhhhhh, shit,” she sat up straight. “Ya didn’t, like, tell her… did you?”

“Told her it was some Reaper bozo. Didn’t seem too convinced, said she’d be looking into it.”

Vanity shrugged. “I’ll call Mags. Have this whole thing pinned on one of the Reaper’s Disciples. She owes me one, anyway.”

“Mags Martinez ‘owes you one’?” Gen’s eyebrow was raised, arms crossed.

“Yeah, you know — sometimes, if you’re able to actually complete jobs, contractors offer you a favor in return.”

Gen smirked. Vanity’s own special brand of patronizing sarcasm, in all honesty, had long been one of her most magnetic traits, to him. Her trash talking must have certainly awakened something buried within him some time ago, he figured.

“The tension in this room is palpable,” MINDEYE spoke, both able to hear the AI’s words. “Might I suggest ‘getting a room’?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Fuck. You.”

Clearly, the AI had struck a nerve with them both.

#my writing #worldbuilding stuff #short story #cyberpunk #neoelysium #oc: gen #oc: vanity #oc: mindeye

[spicyicymeloncat]

Crystalised part 2 ep 23, 24, 25, 26 spoilers

Yeah I put them all in one post lol

Ep 23

Again, using minecraft logic

Antonia’s “I fished out the last one it’s your turn” lol wow, she makes it seem like this happens often

Antonia did the “if I had a nickel” meme

Oh frick Nya survived?? Also no legs for Nya??

Ofc casual sexism from the mechanic. She has a name!

Okay Jay didn’t crash!! Hell yeah Jay saving Nya for once!

The mechanic is anti jaya also that was such a sick line jay

Okay her fuckin legs are fine now ig

Also Nya’s gonna become water again :(

I think it’s weird that the Crystal warriors can pass out tho

Again city that never sleeps. Paperboys still gonna do their thing amidst a freaking war

Wu: I can’t do child soldiers

Nelson, pointing at the ninja: wtf are these then???

BENTHO IS COMING BACK :D

HELL YEAH LET NINJAGO CITY FIGHT BACK FOR ONCE

Oh gosh that was sick

ep 24

OH MAN THE THUMBNAIL

Lloyd rlly said frick you man

EXCUSE ME POLICE BUT WTF ARE UR PRIORITIES?? THE MAYOR IS GONE NOW WHAT LAW ARE U EVEN USING

NOOO NOT THE SERPENTINE :[ that’s so sadddd

Lloyd really blew his mind there

MISAKO FINALLY CAME BACK FOR A SEASON

I feel like the prophecy guy was brought up before but idk how to spell his name lol

PIXAL MY BELOVED I LOVE HER SO MUCH

Man zane is on the fritz

Oh god he has no limbs man that’s kinda fcuked up man jeez.

However the the ice emperor schtick is kinda funny

Oh my god he’s in a rucksack

OH MY FUCKING GOD ICE EMPEROR IS ONLY BACK FOR COMEDY not what I was expecting but I’ll take it

Hell yeah Ronin! Pixal and Ronin team up will be interesting

Omg the other sog who basically got completely rejected by Harumi this time round. Rip Pixal everyone is evil even her boyfriend

Hell yeah Ronin!! Trying to actually break out of the cycle

Also freaking Zane kicking ronin with his foot

Zane: vex? Vex! Wtf is vex when you need him

Ofc Cyrus didn’t even know

Ep 25

it’s the lava episode :)

Aww man Cole really hit his head

Okay even if I’m not a Kailor shopper I support skylor calling Kai hot shot

Ig this episode really will say which ship is canon

Freaking pythor. I love him

I guess Harumi is looking for lloyd

I would just like to remind people I coined Embershipping for the Kai/skylor/cole ship

ITS JAKE

I’m literally gonna start crying about Garmadon. Mans has half of his emotions but in the ways he’s expressing them, he’s sad about how Lloyd doesn’t accept the Oni heritage that he himself has and how christofern is a weird confused metaphor for Lloyd :((((

Gayle and vinny xxxx

God clutch literally has Nadakhan still oh my god

Okay this door must be a Chekhov’s gun bc they’re so gonna answer a knock that isn’t the paper boys

26

OH NO I DO NOT LIKE THIS EPISODE TITLE

Okay so I assume the romance is gonna get cleared up in this ep. We see the harbour so we know jaya is a thing. We’re looking at Kailor at the start. And like. Pixane… I’m gonna cry

Okay thank god we’re addressing the problems with them right here and now. I’ll hate the ship significantly less if they do this right.

Okay that’s fair

(I’m still a lava shipper tho)

No I refuse any couple shit from wusako no thanks

FreKing Garmadon. He’s like my baby brother whenever someone is on the phone

RACER SEVEN OH I LOVE HER SLSO

OR LIKE BLAZEY is it blazey? H SPEED. I love her

Oh my gosh. I hope Rarlkove integrates Pixal into the long con snake jaguar au

UV just 👉👈 at pixal

:(((( Zane. Has borg tried turning him off and ok again? Putting him in a bag of rice? Giving him a few thumps on the back? What if we just say “protect those who can’t protect themselves” that worked in s11

THEY LET BLAZEY KEEP A PRIME EMPIRE GUN??

ZANE YOU CANT KEEP DOING THIS HOW MANY FUNERALS DO YOU WANT MAN

WHAT THE FUCK THE PIXANE KISS

ZANE IM GOING TO DISMANTLE YOU MYSELF YOU SLEEPING BEAUTY FUCK

PIXAL SQUEALING

FUGIDOVE IS EVERYONE

THE SAM X SUIT LOOKS COOL

Okay barely any jaya and I look forward to draw Zane’s fucked up face but like JEEZ MAN HE DONE DID IT AGAIN ITS LIKE HE SAID NINJA NEVER QUIT… DYING

At least that’s a good place to stop

#ninjago #lego ninjago #Ninjago crystalized #ninjago crystalized spoilers #reaction

[brutal-nemesis]

Inspired by this prompt from @nuttynutcycle

For you, @yet-another-heathen

Ingredients: referenced torture and branding, character death, it’s just very dark!!

Like most nights, it was cold. Cold, dark, and lonely.

Matt had never liked any of these things, but in the time since he’d been kidnapped, he’d come to appreciate them. Cold meant he wasn’t being burned. Dark meant he wasn’t in that horrible room with its sharp instruments. Lonely meant he wasn’t being hurt. Actively, at least. The bruises and cuts that seemed to cover every inch of him were a constant agony, and he really, really didn’t want to think about the throbbing burn on his face, curving initials that weren’t his own. 

He laid on the dirty mattress his captor had generously allowed him, struggling to find a position that was comfortable with the heavy metal collar around his throat. It was chained to a ring in the floor, and he could hardly sit up fully. He hadn’t been given a blanket or even a shirt, and it was all he could do to keep from shivering. As he was finally starting to drift off, Matt thought he heard an unfamiliar creak outside the room he was trapped in. Fear started to claw up his throat. Were they going to come drag him out for some midnight torment? He cowered in the corner as the door opened, but when he saw who was standing there, his jaw dropped.

Lily. It was Lily. His older sister, who he’d never thought he’d see again, had found him after all this time. A look of relief mixed with horror crossed her face when she saw him, and before he knew it she was on him, her arms wrapping him in a tight hug. It hurt terribly, but Matt didn’t care. For the first time in weeks, he felt safe. He felt like things were going to be okay.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to find you,” She whispered in his ear. All he managed in response was a quiet sob. She pulled back a bit, looking him up and down, tears forming in her eyes. “Oh Matty, what have they done to you? Let me see if I can-”

BANG!

One second.

One second his sister was looking him in the eye.

One second later she was slumped in his arms.

“Lily…?” Matt cautiously leaned her away from him, a horrible dread starting to form in his stomach. Her head flopped back, eyes open and glassy. Unseeing. Empty. Dark.

No.

A hand snaked around her throat.

No.

They pulled her away.

No-

Her body thumped onto the dirty floorboards unceremoniously.

No no no-

He reached for her.

No no Lily please you can’t leave me here all alone

The chain was too short, he couldn’t reach her, and she wouldn’t look at him.

“LILY!”

Why wouldn’t she look at him?!

“Lily…”

They stood in front of him. He couldn’t see her anymore. But she wasn’t looking at him.

"Oh sweetheart, was that someone you cared about?" they asked sympathetically, running their fingers through Matt’s hair as he sobbed. They crouched down and cupped his cheek, turning him to face them.

"Maybe it's time you learned your lesson about loving other people."

Lily wouldn’t look at him. 

And she never would again.

#i wrote something #something fun #something for the summertime #something for the girls to get ready and party to #whump #character death #sibling death #dead dove do not eat #probably. im still not sure of the exact criteria #but this is very sad and evil of me #but i had so much fun writing it!! #the fucking gremlin in my head: MATTY FUCKIN SMOKES #please send help i cant take anything seriously #but uhhh yeah i hope i broke someone's heart <3 #it would make my day if i made someone cry :) #so please lmk if you were put in emotional distress #oh if its not clear she got fuckin SHOT IN THE HEAD #guns go pew but im not used to them #ill stick to my ~magic~ ty

[ghostly-cabbage]

Party In The Graveyard (Shiptember 2021 : Drunk)

It’s a day late but heres the Danny x Wes fic I wrote for @ghostgothgeek ‘s Ship Event!! Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Language, Underage Drinking, Mild Suggestive Themes Additional Tags: Post-Reveal, Aged Up Characters, Mutual Pining, Flirting, Getting Together

Summary: So, here’s the thing; Wes never wanted to have a fucking house party, okay? This was all stupid Kyle’s stupid idea. Kyle isn’t even in highschool anymore. He graduated last year. But he invited his whole college freshmen class, and just about everyone from the senior Casper class. And it's just getting better and better. Why? Because about half an hour ago, Danny Fucking Fenton walked in.

--

Or a fic in which Wes sees Danny getting shitfaced and says, "Is anyone else gonna take care of him, or?" and then doesn't wait for an answer.

Words: 6,233

Ao3

“I take back all my poor words. Talk is cheap, but my mind is rich When I close my eyes You grab my wrist, And pull me in to your cold dead lips”

So, here’s the thing; Wes never wanted to have a fucking house party, okay? 

This was all stupid Kyle’s stupid idea. 

Kyle isn’t even in highschool anymore. He graduated last year. But he invited his whole college freshmen class, and just about everyone from the senior Casper class. 

And it's just getting better and better. 

Why?

Because about half an hour ago, Danny Fucking Fenton walked in. 

He walked in like he owned the goddamn place and the reaction went through everyone like a Whoop—like some kind of synchronized celebration of a miracle. 

What, just ‘cause everyone knows he’s Phantom now? 

Give him a fuckin’ break. 

Currently, Wes is standing adjacent to the fridge, nursing a god-awful drink Kyle shoved into his hands before disappearing back into the throng. 

Lighten up, bro, he’d said. 

Yeah. 

Sure. 

The music pounds through the house—a heart beat—a fucking jack-hammer. 

People talk and yell and spill their drinks on just about every surface that can stain. 

A cheer goes up from the dining room and he rolls his eyes. 

He slams his drink and focuses on the outdated calendar on the side of the fridge to keep from shuddering. It makes his mouth water, burns the whole way down and Jesus, seriously, what the fuck did Kyle put in this? 

He throws his cup at the overflowing trash can. 

His cheeks feel warm, but not even a buzz touches the wound up feeling in his chest. 

He passes through the dining room, stops to watch Danny and Dash shotgunning sixteen ounce Mike’s Harder cans. From the looks of the table, they've already gone a few rounds.

Danny finishes five whole seconds before Dash. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and crushes his can. 

“Slowing down already, Baxter?” he says, a smug grin plastered across his face. His shoulders are slumped and he talks just a bit too loud.

Dash finishes his and tosses it over his shoulder, which—cool. Fucking nice, what, does he think they have a fucking maid? 

“In your dreams, Fenton. We're just getting warmed up. No way I'm getting out-drank by a twig like you, half-ghost or not.” 

“Guess we’ll see.” Danny shrugs. He talks like he’s one of those people, has always been one of those people. 

Wes rolls his eyes and is just about to slip out of the room when— 

“Ohhh shit! If it isn’t the one and only Wesley Weston!” 

Fucking hell. 

He turns and levels as unimpressed of a look as he can manage at Danny. 

“Imagine that. It’s almost like I fucking live here.” 

Danny swipes up a plastic cup and then proceeds to walk through the table towards him. People act like they’re finding out all over again. 

“Oh come on, Wes. You’re not still mad are you?” He comes up to him and slouches against the archway’s frame. 

Wes scrapes his tongue along his teeth. “Mad? What could I possibly be mad about?”

Danny looks at him like a puzzle. 

When he talks his voice is quiet, hard to hear over the music. “I dunno, the fact that you knew all along but no one ever listened? They thought you were crazy and you weren’t but no one's even said sorry?” His lips quirk up at the corner and Wes can smell the artificial black cherry dancing on the top of the alcohol in his breath. 

He wrinkles his nose and it has nothing to do with the smell. 

“I was being facetious, prick.” 

Danny smiles bigger, and his eyes glitter, something doe-eyed.  

“Right. So you are still mad?” 

He pushes air through his teeth. 

“Not like it matters,” he says, looking away from Danny, drifting over the room. “Where’s your chaperones? Weird to see you anywhere alone.” 

Danny just stares at him for a few seconds before understanding sparks. 

“Ah. Sam’s got a family thing. Tuck took a closing shift.” He waves a hand and his head lolls against the wall with a thunk. He lifts the cup to his lips and takes a swig. 

Everything about him looks heavy. It’s weird for Danny.  

“Have you tried the jungle juice your brother made?” he says. “It sucks. You’ve gotta try it.” 

Wes lifts a brow and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“How many’ve you had?” 

Danny looks down into his cup, swirls its contents. It’s silent for several seconds too long. 

“I’m not really sure, honestly. Didn’t know I was supposed to keep count.” 

Wes slides a hand down his face. 

Jesus Christ. 

“Listen, maybe you should slow down—”

“Yo! Fenton! Stop flirting with Wes and fucking get over here, we’re not done.” Dash calls across the room and— 

Flirting?! 

They weren’t fucking flirting. 

What the fuck.

Wes’s face heats up far beyond the liquor in his veins. 

Danny looks up and flashes Dash a thumbs up. And then Danny is even closer—grabbing his arm. The chill of his hand goes right through to his stomach. 

“Hey,” he breathes, “come watch me outdrink Dash.”

“Why would I wanna do that?” He ignores the way his breath flutters in his lungs, the way he feels light all the way to his toes.

Danny smiles like what he’s about to say is a secret—like it’s just for him, and all of a sudden Wes wants to be as far from Danny as humanly possible.

“Isn’t watching Dash lose at something for once reason enough?” 

Wes forces himself to keep breathing and he swallows. 

“Fine,” is all he can force out and then Danny is dragging him towards the table. He ignores all the people looking at them. 

The fragmented group of A-listers cheer again and Dash slams a bottle of Fireball onto the table, making people's drinks jump and slosh. 

“Let’s kick it up a notch, shall we?” he says, grin just shy of evil. 

“Where’d you get that?” Wes asks. 

Dash cocks a brow. “Paulina found it? Duh.” 

God, Kyle really wasn’t joking about getting people fucked up. 

Wes is not going to clean up anyone’s puke this time. This shit is all on Kyle. 

“Dude, is it even cold?” Danny asks. 

“No, it wasn’t in the freezer long enough,” Paulina says. She’s drinking from a champagne flute for some fucking reason. He didn’t even know they had those. 

“Gimme that,” Danny says, swiping it from Dash. “No way in hell I’m drinking warm whiskey.” 

His eyes glow blue, and when he breathes out its a thin vapor. Frost creeps over the glass and Wes can’t help but shiver.

“Dude, fucking wicked. I’m still not over this,” Dash breathes, clapping his hands together. 

How could Wes forget that Dash is Phantom’s number one fanboy after all?

But Danny isn’t looking at Dash—he’s looking at him. 

Only it’s different this time. Because before it was always a taunt, blatantly rubbing it in Wes’ face when he used his powers and no one else noticed.

But the way Danny is looking at him now… like he’s waiting for something, thinking about something.

Danny hands back the Fireball and his eyes slip away from Wes and he feels like a fish wrenched from water. 

What the hell was that? 

“Fuck yeah, Fenton.” Dash unscrews the whiskey, flicks the cap off the mouth with a finger, sending it flying. He pours directly into their cups, the liquid glugging through the frosted neck of the bottle.

“Two shots of vodka,” someone says and everyone laughs.

“No chasers?” Danny asks, eyeing his cup. 

Dash puts down the Fireball. “What’s the matter, you scared of the burn?” 

“Not a chance,” he says, and holds out his cup to Dash. They cheers each other and then they’re throwing it back. 

It sinks in his stomach like a rock. There’s no way this ends well. 

.

It’s on the sixth round of Fireball that Dash starts to look green. He sets down his cup and leans on the table. He stares at the clear storage container of jungle juice and Kwan comes up beside him, pats his arm. 

“Dude, maybe you should call it.” 

“I’m fine, ‘s fine…” His words slur together. He tries to stand up straight and Kwan and Paulina both have to keep him up right. 

Danny laughs. “Not lookin’ great, Baxter,” he says, his own words falling sluggishly from his mouth. Danny goes to lift his cup to his lips again and Wes puts his hand over it. 

“Nope. You two are done.” 

“Come on, Wes. Don’t be a buzzkill. I’m good!” Danny says. “Dash is the one that lost!” He flings his hand towards Dash and knocks the Fireball over, spilling it all over the table.

The group all crows at once, a choir of “oh shit” “nice one” and “duuuude noooo”’s. A few people rush to grab their phones from harm's way.

Danny blinks at the table. “Oops,” he says. 

A smile splits his face and he starts chuckling. It builds from him, a laugh, something outside of him—beyond him. 

He laughs until he’s doubled over, holding onto Wes to keep himself stable. 

“Yeah, that’s it. You’ve had more than enough.” He grabs Danny’s cup from him before he can spill that too and drinks it himself. The cinnamon burns through his sinuses and he shudders. Ugh. 

Danny straightens and sways just a bit, stumbling into him—their faces inches apart.

“Hey, that was mine,” he says, voice twisted in a pout. “Not cool.” His breath is cold, thick with the smell of whiskey. 

Wes feels frozen, feels like he can’t breathe. 

His heart pounds in his chest and he prays Danny isn’t so close he can feel it. 

Around them the choir starts again, a chorus of suggestive “ooo”’s. He can feel their eyes on him and it makes his skin crawl. 

Fucking dammit, this is all Fenton’s fault. 

He pushes Danny away from him. Not fast or rough, just to arms length. He coughs. 

“Star, you should go to the kitchen and get them both some water,” he says. 

She gives him an annoyed look. 

“I don’t see you doing anything else,” he snaps. 

“I’m drunk too, you know,” she says, but gets up and leaves towards the kitchen. 

Paulina and Kwan coax Dash into a chair, and he puts his head down on the table, groaning. A few others are sopping up the Fireball with paper towels. 

Danny sags in his grip, goofy smile still plastered all over his face. 

“I’ve never been drunk before, this is awesome,” he says. 

Wes rolls his eyes, and maneuvers Danny into a chair. His head lolls back and he stares at the ceiling for a second before perking back up and trying to go for someone else's cup. 

“Dude, I’m serious.” Wes moves the cup out of his reach. “Quit while you’re ahead.” 

Danny groans, sinking down in his chair like he’s boneless. 

“Come on, Wes,” he says. “You think I don’t know my own limits?” 

“You just said this is your first time being drunk.” 

Danny blows a raspberry. 

Star walks back into the room and hands Wes a glass of water and then slides one across the table at Dash. 

“Here. Wanna drink? Drink this.” 

“Ugh, fine,” he says. 

He’s a few swigs into it when he stops. 

“God, it’s hot in here. Is anyone else hot?” And before anyone can answer his eyes glow that bright blue and a chill works through the air, plummets the temperature. 

“Danny—” Goosebumps rise over Wes’ skin and his breath fogs from his mouth. 

At varying levels of exasperation, the people around cry out. 

“Dude, cut that out,” he says, smacking Danny’s arm. 

“Ow, why are you hitting me?” 

“Because you’re being a pain in the ass.” 

Danny looks at him, blinks heavy eyelids. He smiles. 

“What.” 

“Nothing, you just… You’re cute when you’re all annoyed sometimes.” 

The ground feels like it opens up underneath him. 

His thoughts screech to a stop. It smells like burnt rubber, like cinnamon and black cherry. 

It’s just the alcohol. No fucking way Danny of all people would say that to him. 

“You really are drunk,” he says, but his voice sounds off kilter. 

Across the house the last song fades out and Usher’s Yeah comes on. People scream and cheer. 

“Holy shit, I love this song,” Danny says and stands up. He sways and catches himself on the edge of the table, starts laughing again. “Whew, that was close. The spinning is normal, right?” 

Fucking Christ, how did he end up on babysitting duty again? He rubs his temples. 

Is he really about to do this? 

“You should lay down.” He heaves a sigh. “Come on.” 

“Jeez, Wes, that's pretty forward,” Danny says, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Heat flashes through him. 

“Would you just shut up,” he hisses. “And stop making it cold. Jesus.” 

Danny snorts and when he moves from the table he wobbles. Wes grabs him before he topples and slings Danny’s arm over his shoulder to keep him up. 

Danny leans into him, almost unbalances them.

“You got a problem with the cold, Wes?” he says, this time his cold breath is against the side of his neck. It sends chills down his spine. 

“I don’t have to help you, you know,” he says, voice thick. “You can get alcohol poisoning for all I care.” 

“You’re a bad liar, Wes.” 

Wes yanks Danny along beside him and out of the dining room. 

“Shut up, Danny. You’re drunk.” 

He hauls Danny past the living room and the knot of people dancing and singing. A few call out to them, ask them to come have fun. He steers them away before Danny can pull away and join them. 

“But I wanna have fun, Wes,” he whines. 

“Dude, you can’t even stand without my help right now, you really wanna try dancing?” 

“Dance with me, then.” 

Wes stops. He looks over at Danny and… 

He— 

He blinks, shakes his head.

“No, not—not right now,” he mumbles. 

“There’s a whole reason I came alone, you know,” Danny says. 

“What, so you could get fucked up and no one would stop you?” 

“Yeah! I mean… well, that’s part of it.” 

Wes guides them towards the stairs, ignoring the looks. 

“Your house is bigger than it looks from the outside,” Danny says. 

“Thanks?” 

“Mmhm.”

God. This is so not what he thought tonight was going to be like. 

“Where are we going?” Danny asks. 

“Somewhere you can lay down and sober up.” 

“Tha’s not vague.” 

Wes starts pulling Danny up the staircase. The second floor is dark, and he gropes around to hit the light. 

The first few steps are fine, which is to say the next steps aren’t fine. 

What he’s saying is that Danny says, “oh shit.” 

And then he’s falling—pulling Wes down with him. 

More accurately, Danny trips and pulls Wes down on top of him. 

They end up in a heap and Danny groans like someone does when they fall on the fucking stairs.

“Ow.” He reaches for the back of his head. Then he’s laughing, like it's the funniest goddamn thing in the world, what just happened. His face screws up, the face of someone who doesn’t know he’s in pain, just pretending.

“Seriously?” Wes snaps. His shin smarts—must have hit it on the stairs. 

“Sorry, sorry.” He laughs each syllable. “You good?” 

“No, I’m not—” And he looks down and he realizes how close they are. Realizes the way Danny’s hair falls into his face, the light catching the slope of his jaw. 

Danny quiets at the same time and it’s like they get stuck there. Like nothing else exists other than this staircase and this moment and the way Danny feels cool and solid like a summer night underneath him. 

“Hey,” Danny says—sounds almost breathless. “Come here often?” 

Wes rolls his eyes and just like that the moment is over. 

“Ugh.” He pushes himself up, detangles himself from Danny. 

Danny reaches for him, that stupid smile back on his face.

“Oh come on, Wes,” he says. 

“Quit messing around, dude.” 

Danny pushes himself up, runs a hand through his hair and Wes tracks the motion with his eyes against his best wishes. 

“You’re so mean. I could have a concussion and this is how you treat me?” 

Wes stands up and straightens his clothes. “You’re fine.” 

Danny gives him a look and then something sparks in his eyes. “I’m going to text Sam and Tucker and tell them how mean you are to me.” 

Psh. He says that like they don’t already hate him. 

“Would you just get up?” 

“These stairs are actually kinda comfy,” he says, head rolling back, sinking back down and closing his eyes. “I think I’ll just stay here.” 

Wes kicks his leg. 

“You can lay down in the room. Get up.” 

Danny heaves a sigh, throws an arm over his eyes. 

“Fiiinnneee.” He pulls himself up by the handrail, stops in a sitting position. “Jesus,” he says, voice just above a whisper. His breathing gets weird. It makes Wes pause. 

“You okay?” 

“...Spinning,” Danny breathes. He’s quiet for a bit, and Wes just lets him sit there. Danny holds his head in his hands for a while.  

Worry creeps into the back of his mind. Maybe Danny wasn’t kidding about the concussion thing. Maybe he should get someone— 

Then Danny is standing up and Wes steadys his other arm. 

“I got you,” he says. “Feeling okay?” 

Danny sends him a weak smile. “Yeah. Laying down does sound good though," he mumbles.  

They make it up the rest of the stairs, and Danny leans against the wall as Wes opens the door to his room. 

It’s dark and quiet inside and he flips on the light. 

He helps Danny in, and he flops face first onto his bed. He groans and rolls over. 

“I’m thinking those last few shots of Fireball were a bad idea…” 

Wes snorts and closes the door softly behind him. 

“Oh, just the last few, huh?” 

“I was havin’ fun, smartass,” Danny grumbles. 

Wes leans back against his dresser and crosses his arms. “I said you should have stopped but noooo, no one listens to Wes.” 

It gets quiet and he can feel the heaviness in the air. He clears his throat. “If you throw up in my bed, I’m kicking you out the window.” 

“I’m not going to throw up.” 

“Famous last words, Fenton.” 

“Shaddup,” Danny says, and it gets quiet. 

Wes can feel the bass from the music through the floor, the muffled sound of singing, laughing, talking. He’s used to ducking out at parties early. He’s used to laying in bed and listening to the songs through the walls until the voices slowly fade and the house is empty again. He listens to Kyle stumble up to bed and knock into the walls and yell “I’m okay” when he does.

He’s not used to having… company. 

Danny sits up like a puppet on too few strings. He makes a frustrated noise.

“It’s still hot,” he sighs. 

“It’s the alcohol, dude.” 

Danny runs his hands over his face, and then reaches back and starts pulling his hoodie off. It drags his shirt up with it and Wes can’t help but look. He looks at the multitude of scars staining Danny’s skin and the way his muscles move over his ribs and—he pulls his gaze away and studies the floor instead. 

“This is your bedroom, huh?” 

“Yep.” 

“Doesn’t look how I thought it would.” 

Wes wrinkles his nose. “How'd you think it would look?”

Danny takes his time looking around the room, hoodie pooled in his lap, before he looks at Wes and gives a boneless shrug. 

“I dunno. More,” he holds his hands up, splays his fingers, “raah!” 

“I… don’t know what that means.” 

“You know! Like… newspaper-clipping red-web on all the walls,” Danny says, smile creeping back. 

Wes squints at Danny. He pushes off his dresser. 

“That’s still all you think of me?” He picks a pillow from his bed and throws it at Danny’s face. Danny lets out a yelp. 

“Besides, I took all that shit down when the truth came out anyway,” he says, trying and failing to keep the inkling of a smile from his voice. 

Danny looks at him blankly for a second before he starts to smile again. 

“Wait, was that… Did you just make a joke?” 

Wes snorts. 

“You did! Holy shit, Wes has a sense of humor, this is bigger news than my shit. I gotta tell everyone.” 

Danny looks soft, sitting like this in the middle of his bed, eyes warm in a way Wes didn’t realize they could be. 

Something in him loosens. 

“Good luck getting people to believe you…” he says. 

“Oh, how the turn tables,” Danny says, and for a bit all they do is smile at each other. 

Danny looks away first, he glances up at the light and squints. 

“You got a light that isn’t so fuckin’ bright?” 

“I thought the light sensitivity was supposed to happen the morning after drinking.” 

“You’re full of jokes tonight.” 

Wes rolls his eyes and flips on the bedside lamp and then shuts off the overhead light. 

Danny hums and flops back down. “Better,” he says.

It’s silent for a few beats and Danny lifts his head to look at him. He smacks the comforter a few times with a flat hand. 

Wes blanches; he’s all too aware of himself, of Danny and the dim light and the closed door. 

“Dude, chill,” Danny says, like he can read his mind—wait, he can’t actually do that, right? Ghosts can’t do that? 

“Sit down or something. You just standing there watching me is creepy,” Danny says. 

Wes swallows his own heartbeat, shakes his head. “Seriously, between the two of us, I’m not the creepy one.” 

“Says the stalker.” 

“I didn’t stalk you.” 

Danny gives him a look, with raised eyebrows and everything. 

Wes sits on the side of the bed, scoots back so he’s leaned against the headboard. 

“I was… investigating.” 

Danny laughs. “Sure, dude. Whatever you say,” and his voice is like smoke—hickory and rough but winding through the air like silk.  

They fall into an amiable silence, cotton soft, but cold. Danny has an arm over his eyes again, and his breathing is so slow it’s hard to pick out from the music downstairs. 

He rakes a hand through his hair and takes out his phone. He unlocks it and scrolls mindlessly for a while. 

He can’t focus. 

Not with Danny so close like this. Not when everything is different now. His mind drifts off and he tries to keep track of every breath, wonders if he’s fallen asleep— 

“Hey, Wes.” 

He jumps. Just a little bit. 

“Y-yeah?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

He puts his phone down. 

“...For what?”

“For making everyone think you were crazy.” 

Wes twists his hand in his comforter. Why the hell is Danny apologizing to him? After everything he’s done to him… tried to do to him. It gets stuck in his throat. 

“It’s… You don’t have to—” he wishes he’d had a few more drinks. 

“Nah. I do. Looking back, I didn’t handle you knowing very well.” 

He chews on his lip. He’s never felt so out of place. 

“Danny…” 

Danny moves his arm and looks up at him and his courage almost shrivels. 

“I’m the one who should apologize. Not you. I—” He balls his hands into fists. “What I did, trying to basically out you, that wasn’t… that wasn’t okay.” 

“You didn’t know the whole situation.” 

“Did I need to? It was still fucked up and. I’m sorry. I was so wrapped up in wanting to be right that I didn’t care what it could have done to you.” 

It feels like glass coming up from his throat. 

He’s lost sleep, engraved in the ceiling all the ways he fucked up, all the times he's glad now that no one listened to him. His eyes feel hot and there’s no way in hell he’s going to fucking get emotional in front of Danny. 

“It all worked out in the end,” Danny says. He says it easy, gentle. “You were still technically right, though, so… There’s that.” 

Wes huffs. “Yeah. I guess.” He fights through all the mess. “I don’t know how this didn’t happen sooner though. You were terrible at hiding it.” 

Danny props himself up on his elbows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude, I'm a great liar.” 

Wes leans his head back on the headboard. “Sure, but you’re reckless as hell. How many times did you stick your arm through your locker in front of God and everyone?” 

Danny smiles wide and bright. 

“Honestly, after a while, it was just fun to see how far I could go before anyone noticed.” 

Wes can’t help but chuckle. “Pretty far, obviously.”  

“No kidding.” 

Wes runs his palms over his jeans. 

“You’re good though, right?” Wes looks anywhere but Danny. “At home and all that.” 

“Oh. Yeah. It was, uhm, a lot for my parents. But we’re getting there.” 

“Good… That’s good.” The words feel sharp and blocky, and he doesn’t know what else to say. What else can he say? 

His buzz pulls away from him, pulls him down, makes his lids heavy. 

“How do you think Dash is doing?” Danny says. 

“Pf. If he isn’t hugging a trashcan right now, I’ll be shocked.” 

Danny laughs. 

Wes leans over onto some of his pillows. 

“How are you this okay after drinking all that?” 

Danny shrugs. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m feeling it. My guess is something to do with the healing factor ghost shit.” 

“Right, makes sense.” 

He feels tired and heavy and the darkness at the corners of the room get fuzzier. 

“Paulina brought her own champagne glass,” Danny tells him. And he laughs because, who does that? 

He rolls onto his back and they stare at the ceiling.

“Are you kidding? Paulina does that, it’s Paulina,” Danny says. 

They stare at the ceiling like it’s not a ceiling, like it might become more than just ceiling. Wes imagines it disappearing completely.

Danny likes stars, doesn’t he? 

When Danny talks again it’s like he’s far away. An arms length, an atmosphere’s length… he doesn’t know. 

Danny says, “sucks that I’m missing the Super Smash Tournament.” 

Wes tries to keep his eyes from slipping shut. The bed pulls him like quicksand, the smell of sleep. “Trust me, dude, Kyle always wins anyway.” 

Danny says something, something about who he mains or doesn’t main. It becomes all the same, the sluggish rise and fall. 

At some point between light and dark Wes decides that he likes the sound of Danny’s voice. He somehow likes that the room is colder than it usually is. 

And maybe somewhere between all that he decides some other stuff too. 

— 

Wes wakes up before Danny. The sun streams in through a gap in his curtains, pooling on the wall and floor.

He doesn’t have a headache, but his neck hurts like hell. 

Danny is lying on his side faced away from him and, fuck, thank God. He thinks about last night, about Danny in his arms and he— 

He sits up and rubs his hands over his warm cheeks. 

Water. He should get some water. 

He slips out of his room and goes downstairs to the kitchen. The house is quiet. 

Well. 

Mostly. 

He can hear the sink running and the clink of glass. When he comes around the corner he sees Kyle washing dishes. The house is only half as trashed as he thought it’d be. 

Kyle looks up at him as he walks in. 

“Morning.” 

He grunts, going to pluck a clean glass from the drying rack. 

“Hangover?” 

“Nah. Slept wrong.” He fills his glass at the fridge and downs it all at once. The water helps wash the sour taste from his mouth. Ugh, he should still brush his teeth. 

He fills the glass again and heads back upstairs. He pushes back into his room and when the door creaks he sees Danny jump. 

He walks around the bed and offers the glass to a squinting Danny. 

“Awake?” he asks. 

Danny groans and pushes himself up. His hair is messy, hanging in his eyes. It's infuriating. 

He rubs the side of his face and when he takes the cup their fingers brush. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs. 

“We have pop-tarts and cereal and shit downstairs.” 

Danny gives him a thumbs up while he drinks. 

He wants to ask if he’s okay... He decides to leave it for later. 

Wes leaves his room and goes back to the kitchen. When he gets there, he pulls the pop-tarts down from the cabinet. 

“So, here’s what I’m thinking,” Kyle says, “if you wanna clean the dining room, I’ll clean the living room.” 

“Nope, no. This was your thing, dude. You threw the party.” 

“But Wes,” he whines, “Dad’s gonna be home tonight.” 

“Then you should probably get started,” he says and claps him on the shoulder on his way to the toaster.

“Dude, cold blooded. You’re just gonna watch me slave away for hours and not even help your own brother?” 

“Uh... yeah.” He slots the pop-tarts into the toaster. He turns towards Kyle and leans against the counter, grinning at him. 

Kyle gives him a look. 

“How much.” 

“No. No, I’m not gonna be bought this time.” 

“Twenty bucks.” 

“Kyle.”

“Fine, you drive a hard bargain. Forty.” 

“Jesus Christ.” 

“‘This time?’ What happened last time?” 

They jump and look at Danny as he comes down the stairs. He has his hoodie slung over a shoulder and the half empty water glass in his hand. 

“Holy shit,” Kyle says. 

“It’s not important,” he says, sending a glare at the back of Kyle’s head. 

Danny walks up to the counter and sets the glass down to pull his hoodie on. 

“No fucking way,” Kyle says, voice pitched up. “I didn’t believe it when everyone was talking about it last night, holy shit.” 

Danny tugs the hem of his hoodie down and gives Kyle a confused look that he moves over to Wes.

He returns the look, just as lost.

“Dude, what the hell are you talking about?” 

“You two hooking up last night,” Kyle says, like it’s obvious.

It feels like for a second time stops—  

Hooking up?

Hooking up?! 

His heart skips in his chest and heat rushes to his face and the tips of his ears. He feels like he’s been slapped across the face.

Danny looks like a deer in the headlights. 

“Uh—” 

The toaster pops. 

“Which, can I just say, I totally called it. I knew there had to be another reason Wes was so obsessed with yo—” 

“Kyle!” he snaps, his voice higher than he anticipated. “Kyle, oh my fucking god, shut up. We didn’t— Nothing happened last night, we just—”  

His breath feels tight in his throat and he wants to lock himself in his room forever. He can’t make himself look at Danny. 

“Who the hell told you that-that we—” 

“Uh, dude, a bunch of people saw you guys go into your room together. You know Pualina was telling me that Danny was all over yo—”

“Okay! Thank you, Kyle!” he cuts in. “Jesus fucking—” He buries his face in his hands. 

This is it, this is how he’s going to die. 

“I’m just glad for you two! I mean, like, jeez, finally!” 

“Kyle, I’ll help you clean if you shut up right now and never bring this up ever again.” 

Kyle stops, face lighting up. “Dude, deal.” 

“Cool. Now please leave.” 

“What?” 

Wes grabs him by the arm and starts dragging him out of the kitchen. “Leave. Go get the cleaning shit from the garage or some shit, I don’t know.” 

“Oh. Ohhhh, I see. I get you. I’ll leave you two kids alone to enjoy your breakfast together,” he says with a wink and holy fuck, he’s going to kill his fucking brother.

Kyle heads for the stairs and calls down, “Lemme know when it’s safe to come back down!” 

Wes drags his hands down his face. He lets out a slow breath and he tries to ignore his pounding heart. 

Wes goes to the nearest counter and puts his head down. The surface is cold against his burning skin. He groans like an injured animal and at this point he really wishes someone would put him out of his misery. 

“Well…” Danny says from behind him.

 He hears Danny moving and the sound of the fridge being opened. He looks up, watches as Danny takes orange juice from the fridge. When he turns around he sees his face is red too. 

“I mean… hardly the worst rumor to get spread around about us,” he says. That stupid smile makes its way onto Danny’s face. 

“I once had this dude tell everyone at school that I was a ghost. It was super weird.” 

Wes shakes his head. “Dude, shut up.” But he can’t help the grin that pulls at his lips. 

Danny laughs, a quieter thing today than it was last night. 

“I can have some, right?” he asks, lifting the OJ. 

“Yeah, it’s fine.” 

They fall into silence while Danny pours a glass and Wes goes to numbly retrieve his pop-tarts. 

“It’s probably spread through all of Casper now, huh.” 

Danny glances at him. Something dances through his expression. He hums as he takes a drink of his juice. 

“Uh. Probably further than that, now that everyone knows I'm… you know.” Danny shoots him an uneasy look.

Right. Right. 

This was just getting better and better. 

He takes a bite of his pop-tart. It crumbles in his mouth like sand. 

“Are you… okay?” Danny asks. He reaches back and rubs his neck, and dammit, now he’s just adding insult to injury. 

He looks at him, and he sees the nerves in the way he holds himself, stitched into the way the light hits him. He’s not asking just one question.

Wes swallows. 

“Yeah… Yeah, I mean, like you said. There could be way worse rumors,” he says. He looks at Danny like he’s too far away, like he enjoyed last night way more than he should have. And he sees it in Danny too, some sort of mirror. 

“I think so too,” Danny says, heavy the way he exhales it. 

They break eye contact and Wes doesn’t really know what to do, what to say. 

“Well, uh. You have cleaning to do, I guess. I should probably get home before my parents get too freaked out.” 

Wes nods. “Yeah, probably.” He wonders if Danny knows what’s in his voice. The dark from last night is clouding his mind, pulling him, begging him to just say it.   

“Yeah… I’ll, uh, see you at school?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Cool.” 

But Danny doesn't move. 

He lingers like a shadow. He looks like he wants to go. He looks like he wants to stay. 

“Wes,” he says. 

Wes looks at him.  

He worries at his bottom lip and moves along the counter towards him. 

“Thanks. For last night.” 

He lets out a puff. “Well, someone had to make sure you didn’t die the rest of the way from alcohol poisoning.” 

Danny rolls his eyes. 

“I wasn’t that bad.” 

“You were pretty bad.” 

“Not even.” Danny smiles.

And they’re close again, sharing each other's space. 

“It wasn’t… awful, I guess,” he says before he can stop himself. “Even with you being a pain in the ass the entire time.” 

“Maybe we could do it again sometime,” Danny murmurs.

“What, me looking after your drunk ass the whole night?” 

Danny snorts. “No, I was thinking more like I match you drink for drink instead,” he says. 

“At least then you’d last till the Smash tournament.” 

Danny glances away. 

“I didn’t mind missing it too much, actually.” 

Wes’s breath gets stuck and his heart beats like a drum in his ribcage. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah…” 

In some ways it’s just like last night; Danny’s close enough he can feel the movement of his breath between them. 

“It’s way more fun, bothering you.” 

It’s a slow motion sort of thing, a hair raising thing. 

“Well you’re an expert at it by now.” 

Wes thinks about theme parks. Sitting at the top of the sky and just before his stomach drops—

“Always room for improvement. I could get better at it if you want me to.” 

And what if he does? What if he wants to see Danny in all the ways he can? What if he wants to know Danny for real this time?  

Maybe he wants pictures, proof that it’s real. 

Maybe it’s always been leading to this. 

Maybe it’s fucked up. 

Wes having the power to hurt him all over again. 

“Drink for drink?” he says, barely a whisper. 

“Drink for drink,” Danny says—closer, closer, breath against his lips. 

Danny gives him time to pull away. But Wes doesn’t. Something to do with what he decided last night.  

“Prove it.”

#Unidentified Flying Ship #danny/wes #Danny Phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #my writing #DP Shiptember 2021 #drunk prompt #one-shot #wes weston #wesley weston

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

OBSESSIVE STOLAS x Male Imp pt.4

(This is a long fanfic and will consist of multiple parts.)

Stolas sat in the family limo, enjoying the smooth rumble of limos engine as he travelled home. Along the way, he felt... at peace.

As though, all the problems that plagued his mind before, had... evaporated.

Stolas ran a hand down his chest, his thighs grinding together as he thought about his time with you.

You were so gentle. So tender and elegant with him. As though he were some delicate piece of art.

But he knew the truth...

You handled him so delicately, because you wanted him to feel loved.

...Because you loved him.

The thought sending a whole new wave of warmth threw him.

So focused on the events that just transpired was he, he didn't even notice his arrival home.

He walked through the building blissfully unawares of all around him, almost in a drunken state.

Entering his chambers he found the bed made and empty.

Of course it was, Stella hadn't shared there bed since Blitzø fell into Stella's brunch.

He'd once found it all so charming. Blitzø's brash, rough and tumble attitude had once made him swoon.

But now when he thought about being with Blitzø, he just felt like an idiot for having thought there relationship was anything beyond a business transaction.

But now he had you. And you were all he needed now.

He fell onto his bed, not bothering with the covers. Content to just lay there and bask in the light you brought to his life.

But those tears he shed had took a toll on him, and as much as he wished to bask in this warmth he could feel sleep taking him and with one more happy thought of you, he allowed sleep take him.

He awoke early the morning, and despite being bathed in the light of Hell's crimson sun.

He felt cold.

As though all the warmth youd given him yesterday had simply vanished.

He sat up, sluggishily removing the covers went about preparing for his day of... nothing.

Stella hadn't allowed him anywhere near his usual meeting or appointments, not since- well you know what happened.

Perhaps he'd try and talk to his beloved Octavia. If she was feeling hospitable.

Hmmm. Perhaps not. He should probably just give her some space.

Besides he realised an even more important thing he could do with his morning.

Learning everything he could about You.

Turning over, he found his phone. Looking through his contacts.

He found your name, going into your contact he considered messaging you, but decided against it. He didn't want to bother you so early in the morning.

Instead he pulled up Voxtigram, his main form of communication, before typing in your name.

But he couldn't find you.

So he checked Blitzø's friend list, he eventually found you, it turns out you just had your name backwards, something that made him chuckle.

Seeing pictures of Blitzø sent pangs of sadness through his chest, but he soldiered on.

Scrolling through your pictures, he didn't find much.

Alot of them were just pictures of the places you'd been, or one of the weapons you used on the job.

He eventually did find some of you.

The first he found was you and the two other Imps that worked there, Millie and Moxxie he was pretty sure were there names.

The next was you on your first day at work.

It was a selfie of you in a group hug with Blitzø and the others.

You were all clearly being forced by Blitzø.

The awkward little smile you wore sent a wave of warmth through him.

Scrolling further down, he found more pictures of you. Most of them were just you relaxing at a variety of places, or after after getting a new outfit. Just general stuff about your life in hell.

Then he found one that made his heart skip a beat.

It was a picture of you. Wearing just a pair of shorts at the gym.

You were pulling a little pose, flexing your muscles in front of a mirror, a shy little blush across your cheeks.

Stolas' swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry.

He rubbed his thighs together as he fantasised about licking the sweat off your abs.

With a shake to his head, he decided now was a good time to get out of bed.

Leaving his phone as he went and took a nice long shower.

A nice long, cold shower.

Getting out, he chose a more casual outfit.

An old T-shirt and some jeans he reserved for comfy home clothes. He didn't have anywhere to be.

He made his way to the kitchen, where he found Octavia sitting at the table.

The more calculating part of his brain told him to just leave her alone, but he decided against it. He shouldn't hide from his daughter, she needed to know he was still there for her 'Hello darling, how did you sleep.' He asked pleasantly.

Octavia looked up at him, her eyes looking cold and annoyed. So, not all to different from her usual teenage gaze.

'I slept fine dad.' She sai, her voice dull and lifless, before looking back down at her phone.

Stolas swelled with joy.

His daughter was speaking to him again. Everything seemed seemed to be getting better for him.

Pouring himself a bowl of serial, he took a rather lecherous lstroll down memory lane, Thinking about his time with you.

He didn't know how long he'd been thinking about you, but he was quickly pulled out of it when he felt something hit him on the back.

The clanging of cutlery that followed soon after gave him a good idea of what it was.

Turning around he found a rather angry teenage owl glaring at him.

Before he could ask what was wrong. The owlet released a frustrated growl. 'Can you just not?' She asked rhetorically.

Running down her face she told him 'I have do deal with you and Mums B.S. all the time, can you just not fantasise about your fuckin Blitzy~ in front of me.'

She fell back into her seat with a huff.

Stolas was a little shocked. He hadn't thought his beloved daughter could be so course.

'I-I... I didn't realise I was being so bothersome.' He said, sounding perhaps a bit to wounded.

Octavia sighed, 'Can you just not in the kitchen. Where we eat, please?' She asked, going back to her breakfast.

Stolas sighed, picking up his now soggy bowl of serial. 'How long had I been in that state?' He asked himself.

'Five minutes' answered Octavia not looking up from her phone.

'Oh' he said to himself, taking the bowl he poured it into the trash. 'Well that's disgusting.'

He chuckled to himself. Looking over his shoulder he said 'Well, I'm sure you'll be happy to hear you won't be hearing much about Blitzø... ever again.' He told her being perhaps a little vitriolic.

Getting a cup from the cupboard, he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Walking over to Octavia he went to take a seat, but stopped upon seeing her distrustful gaze.

Taking a seat he sighed. 'Octavia, darling... I know these past few weeks haven't been easy on you. And I know much of that-" He had to stop as Octavia glared daggers at him. "...All of it, was my fault. But I promise, things will get better... for both of us.' He took her hand into his own. 'I promise.'

Octavia looked up at him, she looked so startled by his words.

It seemed like she was gonna say something, dew drops forming in the corners of her eyes.

He was about to say something when Octavia shot up and ran away.

Stolas sat there. For a long while. His conversation running over in his mind.

Taking a drink from his coffee he stood up, put his cup in the sink and left.

He found himself in his garden, perhaps the last place he still felt at home on the palace grounds.

Trying to calm himself down went about his usual grooming routine.

Trimming bushes, feeding his plants, pulling weeds and just general plant care.

And as much as his plants soothed his nerves,, he could feel his mood shifting.

The depression beganing to invade his thoughts.

He felt himself become that miserable husk that got shoved out of Blitzøs office.

He clutched his head, hunching over on the brink of tears. His thoughts became like daggers, stabbing into his thoughts.

But before he could shed a tear, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.

Pulling it out, he found it was a call from you.

In something of a surprised stupor, he answered the call. He tried to clear the emotion from his voice before saying 'Hello?'

'Stolas? Are you okay? You sound upset.' You asked him, concern in your voice.

'(Y/N)?! I... I'm...' he was going to tell you some fluff story, pretending he was fine and probably throwing a few lewd innuendos I'm there.

But, he choked... He just couldn't.

'No... No I'm not okay.' He told you, on the brink of tears. 'I feel like everything is broken and it's all my fault.'

You took a moment to respond, clearing your throat you said. 'Stolas... why did you sleep with Blitzø?'

Stolas was taken aback, 'P-Pardon?'

You sighed, 'Did you want to hurt your family when you chose to sleep with Blitzø?'

Bringing up it was he who made of decision to sleep with Blitzø, made his self loathing grow like a fire.

'N-No!' He told you 'I would never want to hurt my family...'

'Its alright Stolas, I know you wouldn't want to hurt them... But you slept with him for a reason Stolas, you need to know what it is.'

Stolas wasn't sure how to answer, he didn't really know the answer. He could lie, tell you it was just a spur of the moment decision, but that just wasn't true.

'I-I don't know.' He stated, more then said. 'I don't know why I did it... I just... don't know.'

He sat there for several moments, his mind going into overdrive as he thought over the question.

'Its alright Stolas, I believe you. But you need to figure it out, this is something that will haunt you until you figure it out." You told him, trying your best to be serious.

Stolas wiped his eyes, before asking you, 'why did you call (Y/n)? I... don't remember giving you my number!' He mumbled out, rubbing his eye.

You coughed, clearing your throat, 'Don't worry about that. I actually called you because, well I mean, I was wondering, if maybe you wanted to do something tomorrow?' You asked him, voice thick with bashfulness.

Stolas was really taken aback, 'You... You want to do something... With me?' He asked incredulously.

You chuckled on the other end of the phone. 'If I were there right now, Stolas, I'd probably boop you right on a nose.' You tell him through a smile.

'I'd love to do something!' Stolas practically cheered. You chuckled, before telling him 'Great, Ive already got an idea, but if youd like to do-'

Before you could finish your note, Stolas shouted, 'I'd love Too!'

Stolas quickly calmed down, before clearing his throat, 'Sorry... I mean, I'd love to do whatever you had in mind.' He said, cringing at how desperate he'd sounded.

'Good to hear' You chuckled, 'Well, there's this great wine place I know that makes the best little pizzas, and I, uh, wanted to share it with you.'

Your words sent a wave of ecstasy through his body. You not only wanted to spend time with him but actively sought him out to spend time with him.

You were everything he wished Blitzø was.

And he loved it.

He didn't need Blitzø.

He had you now.

'Of course (Y/N), It would be my pleasure to spend some time with you.' He told you, biting his lip.

He felt like a school girl with her first crush, a youthful giddiness clouded his mind.

'Oh? Well I've got tomorrow off, does that work for you? We can do it another day if your busy.' You told him, concern clear in your voice.

It was Stolas' turn to laugh at the tone in your voice.

'I don't have anything on tomorrow, so I'd love to accompany you to yor wine and pizza place. Nothing would make me happier.' He told you earnestly.

He could hear the smile in your voice, as you told him. 'Well, I'm happy to hear that. I'll send you the address later today, call me if you need any directions... I'll see you then, Stolas.'

'I...' Stolas wanted to tell you how much he loved you, just how much joy you brought him with one simple phone call.

He wanted to tell you, but didn't have the words.

As he tried to manifest the words he needed, he heard say through the phone.

'Its alright Stolas. I look forward to seeing you too.'

You told him simply, Stolas just sighed. How you always knew what he was trying to say.

'I'll see you tomorrow, My Beloved.' he told you before you hung up.

Hearing the tell tale dial tone, looking down at the phone, your image in the caller I.D. bringing a smile to his face.

#helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #x reader #headcanon #helluva stolas #stolas x reader #stolas #helluva boss headcanon

[doodler-jpeg]

Life [Wilbur Soot/Fundy]

BOOOM HI HELLO HOW ARE YOU UH UM SO I WAS INSPIRED WHILE I WAS BORED AND THEN THIS IS HOW THIS ONESHOT CAME TO BE. ITS NOT GOOD, BUT ITS DECENT. You’re gonna be taking Sally’s place so, uh, I’m sorry, Sally, you’re just another salmon. Still love you though  THIS TOOK SO LONG TO MAKE DEAR GOD ITS BEEN IN THE WORKS FOR LIKE A MONTH LMAO

ALSO, KEEP IN MIND THIS IS C!WILBUR/SMP!WILBUR

⚠️CUSSING, AFAB READER, PREGNANCY, THIS IS A REALLY LONG ONE SHOT OH MY GOD, PLATONIC FUNDY RELATIONSHIP SO YEAH⚠️

Pronouns: she/her or they/them [you’re referred to as wife, mom,, that stuff, but you can change those if you want]

You hummed as you strained out your clothing beside the river near your home. A smile graced your face, [Eye Colour] eyes glinting happily in the warm sunlight of that fine summer day. Autumn would soon turn the land into a seemingly barren wasteland, though, so you decided to savor every last bit of happiness the hot days brought you. 

Hanging the large amount of clothing upon thin clothing lines, you dumped out your bucket and made sure nothing got in the lake. Walking back inside of your home, you set the buckets in the corner of the cozy cottage and walked back outside. Your brown boots thudded quietly against the cobblestone path that lead into the woods around your home that would eventually be covered in snow.

A sudden childish giggle made you turn to the fields that were a ways away from your house, right in front of the sparsely scattered trees to the right of your little house. You furrowed your brows in confusion as a blur of yellow, white, and red rushed over to you.

“Hello there.” You couldn’t help but stare as the child looked up at you silently. “What are you doing here, little one?” He only blushed, his face flushing a vivid red before he ran off. You shrugged and continued your trek into the forest.

//

You watched as flakes of snow fell delicately onto the muted green coloured grass, bundled tightly in a burrito of quilts that you and your mother has made together. You shuffled slightly from your position on your warm bed, closing your eyes as you waited for sleep to consume you.

It seemed life had other plans, though, as a faint light came toward your home, edging closer and closer until you could make out a figure, their clothing a great contrast to the paw snow. They were shivering visibly, clutching their arms as their lantern shook in their hand.

You frowned as you peeled your blankets off of you, pulling your boots on quickly. Grabbing a lantern cage, you lit the candle inside of it and hurried outside, feeling nervous as the figure hurried over to you.

Soon enough, they were standing in front of you, a miserable look on their face, their eyes red and puffy as their teeth chattered together.

“Come inside,” you didn’t care for introductions or your safety. This person seemed nice. “I’ll start a fire. Uh- there should be a few blankets on the sofa. Would you like anything to drink? Warm milk, tea? I’m not gonna offer coffee because it’s late, so I’m sorry about that.”

“Just water, please,” they croaked out. “I’m sorry for the intrusion. I was headed off in search of territory to claim. Turns out I chose the wrong day. God, it’s cold.” You let out a quiet laugh as you carefully tossed some wood into your fireplace, lighting the material on fire. Almost immediately, the flames grew and you sat up, placing your flint and steel on the fireplace mantle.

“I’ll go get you your water. Go warm up.” You urged before you walked into the kitchen to get the brunet some water.

//

““And then Tommy ran off!” Wilbur howled with laughter as he told the story of how he managed to lose his father in the forest close to his family home. ““Phil was looking for us for hours!” You smiled at the story as you carefully sewed up your friend’s heavy coat, making sure the patches were relatively the same colour as the rest of the jacket.

“You never really tell me about your family, so why are you telling stories now?” You commented, threading the needle in your hand through the fabric and back out of it, pulling the thread tightly. You snipped it with your scissors, placing the needle down to look for any other holes as Wilbur flushed a bright red.

“W-well— one day, I want you to meet my family, so- this sounds so fucking stupid. Never mind, forget about it.” He covered his face in his hands as you bummed, picking up a patch and laying it out on the brown fabric.

“What you’re saying is that you would introduce me to your family because you like me that much, huh?” No answer came from Wilbur, though he did let out a flustered groan as you chortled.

//

You placed a kiss upon your new boyfriend’s cheek, causing the brunet to laugh as he shrunk away from your lips

“Stop it,” you only grinned at the man, kissing various areas of his face in retaliation. Wilbur laughed harder, pushing you away gently as his face scrunched. ““It tickles!”

You grabbed his face in your hands and he looked into your eyes for a moment before you began attacking his face with kisses. When you pulled back for a break, Wilbur copied your actions from earlier and rubbed his thumb across your cheeks with a smile. He leaned his forehead on yours and let out a breathy sigh, closing his eyes as he basked in the moment.

“I love you so fucking much, [Y/N].”

//

““Dont be scared, darling,” Wilbur mused as he gently rubbed his thumb in circles on the back of your hand, lightly squeezing every few rotations. “Techno’s made sure to keep any weapons away and Tommy might be a little less wreckless. I’ll make sure to tell them during dinner.” You nodded uncertainly, playing nervously with the bracelet Wilbur had made you way back when the two of you first started as friends.

Wilbur rapped his knuckles on the door, his other hand never once letting go of yours as the two of you waited. A bit of shouting was heard through the door, slightly muffled, though it was evident that it was coming closer.

The door was flung open by a blond boy, his blue eyes shooting us to meet Wil’s not even a second after he opened the door. A grin was on the boys face as he turned and shouted for Phil [who Wilbur had told you was his father]. Soon enough, a blond man with a bucket hat trodden over, frowning at Tommy.

“Listen, motherfucker, you may be living here, but I’m not gonna fucking let you live if you keep fuckin shoutin.” You froze nervously and glanced over at your boyfriend. He just sent a small, awkward smile onto reassure you before he turned to look down at the two.

“Are you really gonna argue in front of my wife?” Wilbur piped in, feeling himself become giddy as Tommy and Phil shot their heads over to look at you.

“You brought a girl over?!” Tommy yelled in surprise as he stumbled back, eyes wide as he observed your movements skeptically.

“Wil? Can you come over here real quick? I just need to talk to you.” Phil forced a smile as he grabbed the taller man’s ear and yoinked him over to a different room, leaving Tommy and you alone.

“Hi,” you smiled nervously, raising a hand in a half assed wave.

“Do you happen to be American?” The blond asked, leaning his face over to stare at you.

“I mean- I’m a water nymph. I don’t really know if that counts because we usually just have different accents, but we never take into account where anyone’s from.” You laughed, scratching your cheek.

“Well where are you from?” Tommy urged, crossing his arms.

“To be specific, I came from the North Sea right by the Netherlands. I don’t really think that’s important though.” You shrugged.

“So you’re Dutch? Speak it.”

“Im not necessarily Dutch, I was just born in the North Sea, Tommy- I think you’re a Tommy. You seem like a Tommy.” You cleared up, ““The only reason I learned English was to communicate with certain humans.”

“Okay.” The boy sighed, shoulders slumping forward as you let out an amused chortle, “I’ll leave you alone. For now.” Tommy backed up, turning into a room while a big, burly pig person ducked under the doorway, a large sword in hand and an uninterested expression on his face. As he turned to the door, he spotted you and his eyes widened momentarily before going back to their half lidded position.

“Who’re you? Phil didn’t- oh. Oh, today was that day. Oh my god, how could I forget it?” The hybrid smacked his forehead harshly, ““I’m so sorry.”

You laughed, waving your hand dismissively as the pig moved to the side to let you in. You carefully stepped into the warm house and the tall hybrid closed the door behind you.

“Dinner’s nearly done, so you can go sit down in the living room. If you need anything, Phil has ears all over the place. Just look at those crows.” Techno motioned over to the few crows that perched themselves on the window, letting out quiet caws. You waved at the birds and they flapped their wings in response.

“They seem nice.”

//

You sat next to your husband, hand intertwined with his as Phil smiled over at the two of you.

“So, anything new happening with you two?” The blond man inquired, placing his hands on the table. 

““I mean,” Wilbur laughed, turning over to look at you. “Would you like to tell them, dear?” You nodded, a grin on your face as you sat as straight as you could.

“I’m pregnant,” you said, your voice surprisingly calm. Tommy let out a shocked ‘‘what the fuck??’, while Techno choked on his food, slamming a fist onto his chest.

Phil was quiet, eyes wide in shock as he took in the information.

“Pregnant? With Wilbur’s kid?” You nodded, swinging Wilbur’s hand as Tommy cheered.

“Im gonna be a fuckin uncle! Yeah! I’ll be the best damn uncle ever!” He cackled, leaning back as Techno snorted.

““Can I teach them PvP?” You and your husband glanced over at each other before shaking your head.

“Maybe when they’re old enough to know what they’re doing.”

//

““Hello, my precious baby,” you cooed gently, holding the newborn as they let out a quiet sigh. ““My baby. You look just like your father.” A warm but tired smile was on your face as your baby opened their eyes, brown meeting [Eye Colour].

“Love, is the baby okay? Is she doing alright?” Wilbur called nervously through the door, to which you laughed.

“Yes, they’re doing great,” placing a gentle kiss on the baby’s nose, they brought a hand up and lightly tapped their nose.

//

““Fundy! Come here!” You cheered, reaching your arms out to the toddler. They giggled, waddling over to you. Their scab covered knees were littered with bandages and the red overalls they wore were much unlike what Wilburs would have wanted your child to wear, but it was your kid! They deserved the best!

““My precious baby,” you placed a kiss on their cheek, causing the brown haired child to giggle and wipe the kiss from their cheek. You grinned, littering their face in kisses as they squirmed, ““My little champion!”

“Yah! Cham-champion!” They babbled, bringing up a finger to chew on as you set them down and smoothed out your dress. 

““Alright, sweetheart, papa will be here soon, so make sure to tell him what you want to tell him, alright?” Your boy nodded, a goofy grin on his face as he reached over to one of the toys you had brought.

//

You cradled your son’s head as he sobbed, shaking his head in denial as to what had just happened.

“He-he’s gone, mama!” He choked out, wrapping his arms around you tightly. His tears stained your shirt, though the feeling didn’t bother you as you rocked your son back and forth, combing your fingers through his hair.

“Fundy, it’s okay,” you cooed, ““He doesn’t have to live with all the mistakes he made in the past anymore. Who knows, maybe he’ll come back?” 

““But what if he doesn’t? That was his last life and- and it’s gone! My dad’s gone!” Letting out a pained wail, he continued to sob. And you let him.

He had gone through so much.

//

““Who the hell are you and what are you doing around my son?” You sneered, standing in front of your son as the transparent figure stared at you curiously.

“You don’t remember me?” They asked, voice echoing as they tilted your head. “I- [Y/N], it’s me! Your husband! I- I am your husband, right?”

“My husband didn’t push away his son and focus on a failed country more than his own fucking family.” You loaded your crossbow, aiming it at the ghost. ““You didn’t come to his birthday parties, didn’t get him anything, you barely paid attention to him when your country was in the spotlight! You’re no husband to me.”

“Mama-” Fundy gulped nervously, ““Mama, please.”

“You know what, whoever the fuck you are? You’re no damn husband to me and you never will be. Now leave me and my son alone, for fuck’s sake.”

The ghost was silent as you turned, leading the man beside you toward the house at the top of the hill, though a small smile made its way onto his face.

“She’s the one I married?” He murmured, moving his hand to where his heart was, “Was she really the love of my life?”

#mcyt #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #wilbur soot #c!wilbur #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #fundy #fundy x you #fundy x reader #fundy imagine

[amerrierworld]

Take the Silence Away

for the request: Lou Miller helping fem!reader with her depression 

Summary: You thought you’d be home alone to deal with your feelings, so when Lou arrives, you’re worried you’ve screwed up entirely. 

Characters: Lou x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.4k 

Warnings: mention of depresssssionnnnn, mental health issues, general sadness and whatnot, self-degrading talk 

Nobody ever talks about when the lowest points hit on the brightest days. But you were getting quite acquainted with the concept. 

The windows were open, you could hear car honks and children laughing. The sun was shining directly on your face. There was a smell of spring in the air and you should have felt absolutely fine. The day could not have looked more perfect if you looked outside.

But Lou was forced to cancel your lunch date, and somehow that had you crumbling where you stood. You couldn’t remember the reason; it didn’t matter. She wasn’t coming today. You knew she didn’t have a choice, and weren’t mad at her. You were mad at yourself, for reacting the way you did.

Wearing your cutest, most attractive dress, hair done up and makeup flawless. You really should go and change. But you couldn’t get up out of the bed that you had collapsed in when you had finished your phone call.

Was it really all that bad? No, seemingly not so. But your brain didn’t quite agree with that. 

Tears had smeared your mascara half an hour ago. An hour before that your hair had slipped from its stylings. You had been starving for lunch with Lou, but you hadn’t budged to eat at all since. 

Were you weak? Weak for getting so despaired when one good thing fell out of place? Was there something else you should have been paying attention to? 

It didn’t matter, you decided. Nothing mattered, right? Nothing but numbness. It was something you were accustomed to.

There were birds chirping close to your window, and it made you turn your head only slightly, but you were too late to see what birds. You caught a wing flapping before they disappeared, and sighed in exhaustion. Missed that too. 

You don’t know how long you stayed in bed like that. Did the phone ring? The front door? You didn’t notice if it did.  

Your eyelashes felt crusty from the dried tears and makeup and it irritated your skin. You aggressively rubbed your eye until it was sore and blurry, and your fingers came away with smudged makeup. Oh right, you were wearing makeup. 

The ceiling really wasn’t that entertaining. Maybe you should get out of bed, put on your pj’s and just crawl back in bed. Or sleep in the bathtub- the couch? Heck, the floor would be just fine. You deserved it, you were sure..

The sound of the front door opening caught you by surprise, but you didn’t budge. An intruder? Good. Let them take what they want, you couldn’t be bothered anyway-

“Guess who?” a voice called out.

Your head shot up. You tensed your body like you wanted to leap out of bed at the sound of Lou’s voice- oh it would be nice to see her, right? 

But no, you looked like a mess. Fuck. There were footsteps approaching, she always knew where to find you. You wouldn’t have time to fix yourself, not this time. 

You sat up and rubbed a little harder at your eyes, knowing it wouldn’t do anything to hide the puffiness and smeared eyeshadow. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. You didn’t want her to see you like this-

The door creaked open and you rushed to sit, perched on the edge of the bed, forcing a smile.

“Guess who got us dinner?” Lou was grinning, holding a few plastic bags. You could smell the takeout where you were sitting, and your stomach grumbled. 

The sight of her made your heart burst. She looked impeccable- her hair swept by the wind, looking rosy-cheeked from the bike ride. Her shoes were off, and she was wearing a pair of ugly, disgustingly coloured socks. Socks you recognized that you bought her as a joke, because it never would have gone with her fashion sense, but that she wore anyways. You felt yourself choke up. 

“Hey, baby. Everything all right?” her voice was riddled with concern, and your stomach dropped with dread. You hated making others worried, hated to see them sad, hated-

“Yup. I- uh, fell asleep,” you said. “Guess it was a good idea to cancel lunch.”

You let out a huff of dry laughter, but Lou wasn’t having any of it. She put the takeout bags on the ground, and disappeared into the closet. You sat there, startled for a moment, and wondering what she was doing.

She came out in a fuzzy cow-print onesie, and had another zebra-print onesie in hand. There was a clear intention in her eyes, and you would’ve ran out the room if you had had the energy.

“You are not making me wear that,” you laughed incredulously. They were kept in the back because neither of you ever wore them, until now. Her eyebrow raised and with lightning speed, she was on top of you, making you shriek.

“Lou! Lou, oh my god, what are you-” you burst out in a fit of giggles as she tickled your sides, flailing your limbs. She managed to worm the bottom half of the onesie onto your body. You wheezed with laughter, out of breath.

“Okay, okay okay.” You finally relented, letting her take off your dress and zip up the cozy onesie all the way. She tugged the hood over your head, letting your zebra ears flop and you rolled your eyes, smiling.

Then she leapt off the bed and grabbed the take out. She precariously balanced it on the bed before sitting on it, and tugging you to sit in her lap, legs intertwined. 

Without another word, she kept you in that position as she passed you your takeout box, the familiar, amazing smell of your favourite meal making you light up. She rubbed a hand along your leg without another word as you dug in, realizing how hungry you were, and that Lou somehow had managed to order the one thing that got you eating. 

You ate in silence for a little while, sitting in Lou’s lap in your cozy outfits. Though it was quiet, there was calm, and you actually found it quite relaxing. 

“Do you wanna talk about anything?” Lou eventually asked, mouth full of food. You stilled, looking down at your plate. Your fingers began trembling a bit.

“I-” You hesitated. But then, Lou’s hand wrapped around yours and she squeezed firmly. 

So you let it all out. Your stresses, your fears, your numbness. Halfway through, Lou was blinking back tears, and so were you. When you could no longer form coherent words and were choking out sobs and half syllables, Lou wrapped her arms around you tightly and tugged you close. Eventually she slowly fell back onto the mattress, with you holding on like a small koala bear. 

“If you’re worried that now you’ve scared me off, don’t be,” she eventually said, once you sobs had subsided somewhat. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your throat was hoarse and dried up, and you buried your nose in her neck. “You have every reason to leave me.”

“That’s not true.”

She nudged you until you pulled back to look her in the eyes. “I have every reason to stay. If you’ll let me. And talk to me about things, when they get bad?”

You could have saved both of you from so much turmoil right at this moment. Now that she knew, you could send her away with a good reason; that your emotions were not up to par, that she didn’t deserve this. 

But your heart ached with love. And you wanted her so desperately, in every way. Even when you were numb, Lou was a sweet, calming reminder of everything you needed to go after when things got dark. 

And you nodded, promising something you never thought you had the strength to do. To be open with someone. Lou smiled, kissed your cheek, and pulled you even tighter. Your full belly and exhausted tears easily sent you into a deep sleep, with her rubbing your back and keeping you warm. 

A/N: brb crying 

@ the anon who asked for this i hope everything is going alright in your life, i hope this helps, i hope you will find ways to help yourself and realize how worthy you are to enjoy this wonderful thing called fuckin’ LIFE <3 (and that goes for alllll of you who are reading this too okay)

#lou miller #lou x reader #lou x you #lou #ocean's eight #oceans 8 #ocean's 8 #cate blanchett #cate blanchett x reader #lou miller x reader #reader insert #merry writes #wlw

[lady-z-writes]

What Lies Beneath - Chapter 1 (Heisenberg x Reader) (Heisenberg x OC)

Posting this here too! Feel free to subscribe on AO3.

Chapter 1 is up of my new Heisenberg/reader (Heisenberg/OC) story.

Summary: A trip to a neighboring village introduces Heisenberg to Reader – a Cadou experiment that didn’t quite meet Miranda’s standards. Reader was told to stay away from the Lords – as her powers will only make them weaker – but there’s something alluring about this rugged man, especially when he’s between her thighs.

Boot stomps sound through the halls of the church, their echoes drown out by the yelling in the lobby. Heisenberg lights a cigar as he shoves through the doors, returning to the brisk winter air.

“Fuckin’ idiots,” he mutters, stomping through the snow.

Every ‘family’ meeting is rough, each one getting harder to hide his disdain for his ‘mother.’ But today…especially today, given the timing of things.

Heisenberg doesn’t remember much about his childhood before Miranda, but he remembers that trip his dad took him on – it was around this time of year. It was a time when his dad could break away from the factory, trek through the mountains until they hit a nearby village where they spent some time fishing. That’s all he remembers…some big snowstorm, a collapsing snowdrift almost taking them out, and fishing. Other than that, it’s all blank.

Days like this make it impossible to get passed that resentment he feels toward Miranda. Snowy weather leaves him wondering just how many fishing trips his dad planned to take him on before he was killed, before his son was experimented on, before the whole village went to shit thanks to that bitch.

The cold air and the cigar should make his lungs ache, but he’s so used to it by now. Coat billowing around him, he makes a rash decision and takes a right toward the southernmost mountains.

It isn’t often that he can sneak away from the ‘family’ without anyone knowing. He’d only been away for a while once and thankfully Moreau covered for him when they questioned his absence. If Moreau actually thought he was with him is another question entirely.

The one trip he took led him to the wrong place – no village in sight and by the time he arrived back, it was too late to try another path before the questioning began from his ‘family.’

'Where were you?’

'Why did you miss a meeting?’

'Mother is pissed.’

'Did you get lost in that factory?’

This time around, he had a better plan: got ahold of some old maps left behind in the village, plotted out his path and where his assumption was for the other village, waited until the opportune moment to leave town for a bit. And the opportune moment was directly after a meeting.

He didn’t know exactly what he wanted when he found it. Surely there’s no father to go fishing with so what’s the point?

The point is that he shouldn’t be confined to this stupid village, shouldn’t be one of Miranda’s toys, should be finite and human – not a monster. The point is that he’s chasing something and that probably says a lot about him and needs unburied, but now is not the time for self-counseling.

The climb through the mountains is exhausting, even for him, but he keeps pushing through just in case he ends up empty again, in case the village doesn’t exist in this area either.

The journey makes him start to doubt again, like he’s done so many nights before: maybe this isn’t his memory, but something else entirely. Maybe this was just a story he was told as a child; one that his young imagination ran wild with. Maybe…

A few hours into the journey, several cigars later, frozen limbs, and a sopping wet jacket, and he spots it: several rooftops through the clearing. He lets out a huff then a laugh as his feet carry him forward.

So, it did exist…this whole time…

Thought leaves him as soon as he hears a growl in the distance. Hammer at the ready, he doesn’t even have time to attack when he’s knocked off his feet by something he can only describe as Lycan-adjacent.

The antlers are what get him – stab at his neck before he swings his hammer to knock it off. And then he’s running – dodging trees because, oh fuck, that thing got right back up.

The village comes into view quickly after a few more run-ins with this antler-beast. It charges him again only for him to dodge, grab it by the antlers, and snap them like a wishbone. Blood pools as he slowly backs away, watching the dying thing twitch in the snow.

Sauntering on, he swings his hammer back over his shoulder, touches his throat wound with a ‘huh’ leaving his lips.

Odd.

An abandoned house sits near where he remembers fishing with his father, but he can’t remember what this used to be. Everything seen with fresh eyes, it seems like a lifetime ago – feels more like a dream than reality.

He continues on.

“You’re a fresh face,” comes a voice, almost startling him. Almost.

Spinning on his heels, he shifts his hammer, scans around. A thin womanly figure floats down from out of a tree. She’s cloaked in moss and tree bark, her features soft and almost kind. Heisenberg doesn’t lower his hammer.

“Such a bad day for traveling,” though she doesn’t seem to be affected by the cold, Heisenberg sniffles at her. “What are you doing out here, stranger?”

“Just out for a stroll,” he drawls. “Passing through.”

She steps closer and he steps back, aware that there’s nowhere to board up except the abandoned house. The tree woman extends her palms forward in an almost-innocence.

“Let me take you somewhere nice,” she motions behind her, as if that tree is ‘somewhere nice.’ Heisenberg doesn’t want to find out what she means. “Handsome guy like you…I could indulge in.”

He’s about to swing his hammer when he goes toppling to the ground again, the Earth feeling like it’s shifting beneath him – a dizzying in his head as he fights off another one of those antler-creatures.

Shifting his hand, he can feel the metal from objects inside the abandoned house. With a blink, they go flying through the air to impale the beast atop him. Growling sounds louder, foot stomps, and then a puncture to his neck. It’s not an antler this time, doesn’t feel as thick or grating, and when he looks out of the corner of his eye it’s the tree-lady crouched over him with a needle poking from her wrist into his neck.

Shoving her off then rising to his feet, he collects himself, pulls the metal scraps to float around him, but falters in a dizzy spell.

The tree woman laughs. “Much mightier than I thought. And powers, too!”

Blinking hard, Heisenberg sways on his feet, slamming his hammer down to catch himself. Breaths coming out ragged, he lowers his head to his hands.

This can’t be happening.

Shoving the metal forward as best he can, he realizes that he’s missed: the woman is beside him now.

“Aw, poor man,” she’s seductive suddenly, reaching for him, touching his arm. She seems to ignore the horned beasts surrounding them – or, rather, they ignore her. “Don’t you want to come and warm up?”

He wants to shove her off, but his body isn’t functioning properly. He feels like he’s stuck in a trance. Fingers twitching to shift the metal around them, he manages to kill one of the beasts before she grips his jacket and pulls him closer.

“You bitch,” he huffs, feeling her body pressed against him, his own reacting to their proximity.

She laughs. “Don’t fight it, sugar. You could use a nice release, couldn’t you? So pent up.”

Her lips are pressing to his and it’s almost as if he’s completely lost control. Her taste is exquisite, enticing, he can’t get enough. The hammer falls to the snow as he kisses her back, hand trailing behind her, pulling her into him harshly. A low moan leaves him but it sounds far away. Feeling is leaving his fingers – from the cold or something else, he isn’t sure. All he knows is he needs this.

“Serena, stop!” comes a yell from behind them and it feels like a slap to the face.

The beasts are no longer tame, but they growl in place.

Heisenberg is shoved back as another woman steps in between him and this tree woman Serena. His hands are grabbing for her though – contact, he needs contact – but they fall short and land on this new woman. He can’t seem to stop himself.

“Leave us alone, [Y/N]! This has nothing to do with you,” the tree woman Serena says.

[Y/N]? Heisenberg isn’t familiar…

Breaths are coming out in deep huffs like he’s been running. His head is foggy, trance-like still.

“Do you have any idea who this is?” [Y/N] asks, a small squeak leaving her as he loops his fingers up under her shirt, traces his calloused hands over her belly, inching up toward her breasts, dips his head to the crook of her neck.

“No, but my pheromones seem to work well on him. I was so close to total control.”

He’s sort of aware of this comment from the plant lady – enough that he pulls back from [Y/N] completely.

[Y/N] turns to him then, presses her hands to his shoulders. “Snap out of it,” she urges, “focus.”

Heisenberg finds himself staring into her eyes, focusing on the surroundings, has so many damn questions right now, but the scene before him keeps spinning.

Serena takes a swing at [Y/N] but she dodges, ducks under her blast of whatever-the-fuck-petals-those-are, and delivers a strong punch to her face. As the girls fight, Heisenberg blinks heavily and tries to shake this trance off.

Wide eyes stare into the snow as he’s a little embarrassed by the pants tent he’s currently sporting. Jesus. Fuck.

Anger pounds through him, his hand quickly snapping for his hammer…only it doesn’t work. A nervous gaze is shot to the women but he realizes that the tree lady isn’t using her powers either. He has a sinking feeling as he tries to force the metal pieces to float again.

Hoisting his hammer up the old-fashioned way, he realizes its weight.

“Duck,” he tells [Y/N], shoving her out of the way before delivering a blow to this tree lady, knocking her out.

[Y/N] stands back then, sees the anger flash in Heisenberg’s eyes. The antlered beasts still growl in place.

“Talk,” he snaps. “Now.”

“Your teeth are chattering,” she acknowledges. “Can’t we at least-”

“I said talk,” he slams the hammer down in the snow.

A nod. “Serena,” she nods over to the moss-covered lady on the ground. “She’s…we’re all…” she shakes her head then finishes with, “-like you.”

He can feel his shaking now, attributes it to this news when it could full-well be from the cold.

“Cadou?” he asks to which she nods. “Fuck.” He runs a hand down his face then shoves his hands in his pockets to keep them warm and to hide the half-chub he’s still got. “Where the Hell did my powers go?”

She looks sheepish. “I have everything to do with that.” At this, he reaches for his hammer again. “I-I didn’t take them or something, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He doesn’t look convinced. She sighs. “Here.” She steps backwards about 15 feet. “Try now.”

Begrudgingly, he removes his fists from his pockets and his hammer flies into his hand instantly. With a blink, he watches the metal pieces float up around him then rain back down into the snow.

Ah. So she can block power…

He remains silent which clearly makes her a little uneasy so she starts speaking again.

“Serena is a Dryad,” she announces as if he’s supposed to know what the fuck that is. “She has power over plants. You got to experience her pheromones…” she looks him over, eyes landing on his half-chub before she inhales and looks elsewhere.

“And what do they call you?” he steps closer.

“They don’t have a term for me. I…wasn’t given enough time…” she looks away, steps until her back is to the abandoned house.

He’s close, peering down at her. “And what are they,” he thumbs behind him.

“Wendigo,” she breathes out. He doesn’t reply. “She feeds them…” Heisenberg nods, grabs a cigar from his pocket, lights it, turns to walk away. “Where are you going?”

When he’s far enough away from the power cockblock, he pulls his hammer to him again, slicing up the Wendigos with his metal until there’s a heap of bodies around his feet. That should stop them from following.

[Y/N] tries to not let her surprise and approval show in her expression as she watches him, but he sees a small quirk of her eyebrow. Exhaling smoke, he takes another drag then starts coughing from the cold air.

“Powers or not, this weather isn’t good for you,” [Y/N] sighs.

“What, are you the ruler here? Kicking me out so soon?” he swings his hammer over his shoulder.

“We have no ruler, just…a monitor,” she shakes her head, turns, stops herself from saying more. “What is your business here, Lord Heisenberg?”

“Ah, so you do know me. Different village, yet word travels, hm?”

“You…don’t know of this place, do you?” at her question, he bites down the memories of his father. “Come, we have much to discuss.” As she begins walking, she doesn’t hear his footsteps following behind. She turns, tries another angle, “Or I could get Serena back up and she could show you more of her powers. Trust me, you don’t want her spores getting…other places. You’d have greater concerns than an awkward boner.”

Heisenberg can feel his cheeks heating up.

“Mouthy little bitch, aren’t you?”

She holds her hands up in innocence. “Just looking out for a mighty ruler.” She laughs. “Shall I start a fire or would you rather freeze your ass off out here? Maybe you need a minute to cool off – like a cold shower.”

He can’t help the laugh that comes from his throat at her quips.

“Spunky. I like you.”

[Y/N] inhales sharply, surprised and flattered.

And so begins their silent walk – Heisenberg trailing further behind just in case his powers are needed. The village is bigger than he remembers, though he doesn’t remember much.

[Y/N] picks up the wood she’d left outside of her door right before Heisenberg’s run-in with Serena and the Wendigo. If her fire hadn’t died, she wouldn’t have seen the pack of Wendigo charging down the hill at them. Any slower and Serena may have gotten her claws into him to use at her command.

Sometimes these powers come in handy, despite what Mother Miranda may think.

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg x oc #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x oc

[archerdaryl]

Oblivious.

Daryl gets it into his head that the girl he’s infatuated with doesn’t like him one bit. What he fails to remember is that when it comes to people, she’s about as oblivious as he is. 

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Tags: moody?? angsty?? idiot meets bigger idiot | @madshelily​​ Word Count: 2.7k (approximately) Notes: Request by @petrified-teeth​​ ♥ This is my first time trying something angsty since getting back into writing -- I’d love to hear what people think!

Whispers echoed through the canteen hall as Daryl lumbered through, his crossbow bloody and slung over his shoulder. There was a particularly scathing scowl painted across his grizzly features, one that unfortunately wasn’t the result of a hard day’s work outside the prison walls, and people were quick to move or look away as he grumpily made his way through the building.

To say it had been a long week was an understatement, but he was used to getting his hands dirty. He didn’t mind the aching muscles or the sweat that came with working under the scorching Georgia sun. If anything, he was happiest when he was put to work. He felt useful, like he was needed, which was something he hadn’t ever felt much of in his life.

No, that wasn’t what had been bothering him at all. Not even close.

When Daryl eventually reached his cell, he threw down his crossbow before collapsing onto his bunk. He adjusted his pillow so that he could sit up a little against the wall, eventually settling into the thin mattress with a long, heavy exhale. He was glad to finally be alone, but he still had to simmer in his thoughts which were only getting louder. 

Why hadn’t you talked to him this week? Shit, you’d barely even looked at him. 

None of it made sense. 

From the very first moment that you arrived at the prison, something about you set the archer on edge. You had been on your own, somehow surviving against the world and all its horrors for God knows how long, and yet you hadn’t turned to stone. You were everything he wasn’t in many ways. Unabashedly emotional and full of faith despite it all even though he knew you had experienced some of the worst things a person could. 

He didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand you, but that didn’t matter. He just wanted to make sure nothing ever smacked that smile off your face again. 

Daryl’s stomach stirred. His own features softened at the mere thought of your smile, which only made him forcibly frown again. What the fuck was his problem? He had to be overthinking this. Maybe he was just tired, but that couldn’t be it. 

You hadn’t spoken to him all week.

It was driving him insane. 

Looking back, he really wasn’t sure when his feelings for you snuck up on him. He could only pinpoint the moment he realised it for himself that he liked you at all. You had gotten separated from the group on a run, took it upon yourself to divert a small herd away from everyone. You ended up bloody and bruised. Damn well nearly got yourself bit, but you still giggled and told him he worried too much.

It took almost losing you to realise you had chiselled away at the walls he built around himself. You’d made a little home for yourself in his heart and the idea of you turning on him now was making him spiral.

Daryl shifted in his bunk and began to absentmindedly pick at the skin around his fingernails. One soon started to bleed, but he was too lost in thought to notice. 

There was no fucking way you felt the same as he did. How could a girl like you possibly want a guy like him? You personified sunshine and he was a weed that had absolutely no business taking up your time and energy. 

God, if his brother could see him now.  He was pathetic. Merle would tell him just that, laughing in his face and reminding him that he told him so, that no one would ever care about his baby brother Daryl but him. 

And the worst thing was that he could live with that. He could live with you not wanting to be with him. It kept him awake at night and gnawed away at whatever little sense of self he had left but as long as you liked him just a little bit and wanted him around he could live with it. 

So why the fuck weren’t you talking to him?

Daryl started to retrace his steps, trying to figure out if he had done something wrong. He knew he could be blunt, often rude at times, but he meant well. Maybe meaning well wasn’t enough. Maybe he just had to suck it up and apologise and hope it was enough despite not having a damn clue what he had done wrong. 

But maybe that was just it. Maybe he hadn’t done anything at all. Maybe there was something wrong with him.

He was breathing heavily now, eyes squeezed shut and anger building further in his chest. He couldn’t fix this. He wanted to but he couldn’t. The echoes of Merle’s laughter haunted him. He’d been thrown away like he’d been countless times before and he only had himself to blame.

“Hey Da-” A familiar voice interrupted him, quickly sounding concerned, “What’s going on?”

Daryl’s eyes shot open, scowling at the figure who had approached his cell. It was just Rick, but he didn’t want to talk to Rick right now. He didn’t want to talk to anyone.

“Nothin’.” He spat angrily, “Get lost.”

Rick sighed and stepped into Daryl’s cell, drawing the thin curtain behind him to try and give Daryl the illusion of privacy. 

“Daryl you can’t keep storming around the prison like this. People are uncomfortable.” He paused, lowering his gaze to shake his head before looking at his friend with sympathetic eyes, “Now what is it? Is it her?”

The archer blinked up at him, unable to respond.

“You think I ain’t noticed?” Rick chuckled, “Like a dog to a bone whenever she’s around.”

“Well she ain’t around. She ain’t fuckin’ talkin’ to me.”

Daryl sat up from his bunk and threw his legs over the side, leaning onto them with his elbows. He couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to. He may not have said anything, but Daryl had a language of his own only those closest to him could understand. Rick was one of those people. 

“She’s been bouncin’ around all week helpin’ out with the library. Have you talked to her?”

Again, Daryl was stuck for words. He was starting to feel stupid. 

“Why don’t you just tell her man?”

“Tell her what?” He snarled back, now massaging his fists as if he were in pain. 

He couldn’t fathom trying to tell you how he really felt. How could he? He was no good. He never understood why you insisted on talking to him in the first place, he was just glad you did. Every moment he got to spend with you made him want to make the world a better place for you to be in so that faith of yours never betrayed you again.

“C’mon now. You can lie to everyone else but I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

Daryl shot Rick another scowl but didn’t bother trying to tell him otherwise. 

“You talk too damn much.”

“She won’t figure it out for herself, man. D’ya think if she could take a hint you’d be sulkin’ like this right now?”

Dary’s brows knitted together and a sigh of defeat drew slowly from his lips. Rick had a point whether he liked it or not. You weren’t exactly… the most cognizant person when it came to others. You did good and hoped people were good to you in return, but unless someone spelled out their intentions or desires for you, you were left with simply navigating the waters the best you could. 

That was why you got on so well with Michonne. There was no bullshit with her. She told you what she thought, what she wanted, or where to go if you were pissing her off. You were better off for it, never having to second guess yourself, but not everyone was like that. 

Daryl certainly wasn’t. Did you have any idea where you stood with him at all? Did you see him like you saw everyone else? He swallowed hard. 

“Rick?” A voice then called out, “Are you down here?”

“In here!”

Footsteps approached Daryl’s cell and the curtain was pulled open, “Maggie wants you. Something about the library? She should be still in there.”

Daryl glanced up at the new arrival who met his crystalline gaze with a sweet smile. 

It was you. 

His mouth suddenly felt incredibly dry. 

Rick turned to Daryl and cocked a brow suggestively before making his departure. Daryl wanted to shove the smug bastard against a wall, but he stayed silent, clearing his throat and waiting for you to follow Rick without bothering to say another word.

Instead, you stayed and perched yourself on the edge of his squeaky metal desk which was covered in borrowed books and makeshift arrows. He silently cursed himself for not thinking to tidy up a little, especially with the pile of dirty clothes he kept forgetting about building up in the corner of his cell. 

“You charged right past me in the canteen earlier.” You finally said, voice gentle but steady, “Did something happen out there?”

“Naw.” He responded bluntly, “Just been a long week.”

“Oh.” You paused, unsure of how to proceed, “Do you want me to go?”

He was a difficult man to read, but you felt you knew him well enough by now to know that he often just wanted to be on his own. He wasn’t a talker. He was introspective and quiet, never wanted to bother anyone with anything if he didn’t have to, but over the last few months he seemed to have grown to like having you around. He tolerated you at the very least you thought, because he stopped ignoring you and started to speak in (almost) complete sentences. 

Still, something was nagging at you. You weren’t sure what, but in your experience it was best to come right out with it otherwise you’d be stuck in limbo forever. 

“Have I done -”

Daryl looked down at his hands, “Ain’t seen you all week.”

A frown pulled at your features. Had it really been that long? You weren’t even sure what day it was. Maggie had you running around all week trying to get this library in order for the kids and you had never been particularly good at juggling a million things at once. 

Pushing yourself up off the desk, you approached the bunk and nudged his feet with your shoe in a silent request for him to shuffle over. He obliged and you took a seat next to him. 

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, “I’ve been so caught up in the library I didn’t even realise I hadn’t spoken much to anyone.”

Silence followed. Daryl was chewing the inside of his lip to keep himself from running, unable to meet your eyes that were fixated on him with such care and curiosity. He’d never felt so fuckin’ stupid. 

“Funny.” You continued, “I wouldn’t have thought you cared.”

“What?”

“I don’t know where I stand with you at all, truthfully.”

This girl had to be joking. From an outside perspective, it likely made perfect sense, but he thought about you all the damn time. He wanted to know if you slept well, how your day went, wanted to know the little stories behind the things you did and why you never seemed to give up on anybody or anything. 

He felt like a damn school girl. He liked you so much that he could have laughed at the idea of you not thinking he liked you at all. 

“I mean, I hope you like me. I pretend you do and keep buggin’ you anyways, but I don’t know that you do.”

“Of course I like ya.” He finally met your gaze, “Never gave me a choice.”

You studied his face. Sure, he was rough around the edges, but there was also a tenderness to him that made you feel safe. An appreciative grin tugged at your lips, relieved that you hadn’t been making a fool of yourself this entire time. 

“Don’ think I could hate ya’ if I tried.”

“That’s high praise coming from you. Might start getting the wrong idea.”

Daryl forced himself to snort in response as if he found the notion of being interested in you like that funny, though it came out half-heartedly. He didn’t really think it was funny at all.

“Though,” You teased him further, “Worse things have happened.”

Weaving an arm through his, you took it upon yourself to rest your head against his shoulder. You didn’t care that he was grubby. You had nothing to lose anymore. He just said he couldn’t hate you, which honestly made you feel a little giddy inside. You’d have to bug him more often.

Daryl, on the other hand, thought he had lost the ability to breathe. He turned his head slightly, taking in the unmistakable scent of peaches and vanilla. How was it you could smell that good during the Goddamn apocalypse? Not to mention your hands, almost disgustingly soft compared to his. Except, it wasn’t disgusting at all. You were a fleece blanket and he wanted nothing more than to be engulfed by you. 

“Sorry about lunch.” He mumbled quietly into your hair. You hummed happily, not at all bothered by his previous outburst in the canteen before he continued, “Could get dinner?”

“Sure. I gotta talk to Rick about the run tomorrow anyways.”

Daryl frowned. He was going to have to try and spell it out for her. Fuckin’ Rick and his meddling. 

“Naw I meant,” He hesitated for a moment and swallowed hard, “I meant just the two of us. If ya’ want.”

You glanced up from his shoulder, eyes beautiful and wide. This was one of those times you didn’t know what to think -- especially in regards to him --  but your first instinct was to nod, so you did. You nodded and searched his gentle gaze for some sort of sign, something that told you what he was thinking, whether he just wanted to make up for lost time or whether he was actually… nah. 

He couldn’t be.

And he could see that confusion painted across your face. Goddamn it. Just getting his words out at all was like trying to get blood out of a stone. It’s a date. That’s all he had to say, but it sounded so childish. The fuck did he look like asking out a girl on a date with the world gone to shit? He could hear his heart beating in his ears 

“Damn it,” He grunted, that Southern drawl of his getting thicker the more impatient he got. He exhaled heavily through his nose and tried not to roll his eyes, “I’m asking you out.”

“Oh.” Was all you could respond, soft and surprised. 

Ten minutes ago you weren’t even sure he liked you at all. That giddy feeling in your stomach grew stronger and you tried to stop yourself from beaming. 

“I can still say yes, right?”

Daryl shrugged you off of him, “You drive me nuts, you know tha’?”

“Alright, shit, I won’t come.”

“You’re coming, alrigh’? Now get outa here before Maggie bites my head off.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood up and stepped towards the gateway. Daryl watched you, his own gaze drifting from your hair to your waist and up again. That agonising ache in the pit of his stomach was finally starting to subside, though it was being replaced by something entirely different. He sucked in his bottom lip nervously as your hips swayed away from him. 

You only took a couple of steps out of his cell when you stopped in your tracks, turning half-way to glance at him with that sunshine smile spreading across your face. 

Daryl finally smiled back, shy and sweet and more than ready to smack Rick upside the head. 

#the walking dead #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon #norman reedus #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon oneshot #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #mine

[murderousginger]

Faded Away

Angel on Fire Chapter 1

John Shelby x reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: They're criminals guys, they do bad things.

(gif by @bonniebirddoesgifs)

You giggled as your best friend swung you around on the empty street. Isaiah, Finn and Michael walked behind you both and laughed in various degrees at your foolishness. 

"The girls are already mad," Isaiah said as he stepped forward and took your hand. He pulled you close before twirling you away from him. "We're in for a night, lads."

You laughed and spun with your hands outstretched as he did the same to your friend. 

"They're always mad," Michael scoffed as he rolled his eyes. "They're fuckin' winding up for the snow."

You stopped spinning and raced toward Finn, a mischievous grin on your face as you crashed into his arms. 

"There's no way you're a Shelby, Michael," you laughed as you pressed yourself into Finn. "You're far too dusty. You're a wet blanket."

Finn barked a laugh as he took your wrist and spun you back toward Isaiah. 

"You make no sense, (Y/N)," Michael scowled as he lit a cigarette. "Am I dry or am I wet? You can't make up your mind."

Your friend trilled a laugh. You rolled your eyes as she left Isaiah's grasp to cling to Michael. 

"You know our girl," she joked as her hand found his chest. "Always too busy with her own thoughts to make much sense. I don't think you're dry at all, Michael."

"That's because you'll wet him right up, won't you?" You said exasperated. 

Finn and Isaiah laughed as Michael coughed on his cigarette. Isaiah winked at you and lifted his arm. You ran into his side to claim his warmth as he pulled you close. 

"Be nice to little boss," he chastised before his tone lowered as if to tell you a scary story. "Too much longer and he'll be just like Tommy, and you wouldn't dare say such a thing to him."

The night was like most nights. You and your friend went with the Peaky boys to the Garrison under the promise of drinks and snow. You'd been doing it for years, long before Michael joined the little crew, and it was old hat by now. The boys liked the entertainment and needed you to parade their product and make a scene to attract customers. You got your drinks and snow free as long as you attracted attention. Sometimes Isaiah or Finn would give you a cut of their cash on an especially good night. There were worse things to do to get extra coin. 

"I don't take anything the bait says to heart," Michael said. "They're not much more than pretty wrapping to attract the men and put the girls at ease."

"But we are pretty," you pouted mockingly as you cocked your head back to see Michael. "You might not have a use for smart girls, but you have use for pretty."

Michael inhaled his cigarette, taking his time, making you wait for his response. Hang on it. He loved to make everyone wait on him like it was a sign that he was in charge of things. If everyone hung on his word, you'd all forget to breathe until he did. He'd become in charge of everything, including the air in your lungs. 

The smoke lifted from his mouth and into his nostrils before he exhaled it all away. 

"And your mouth is good reason to find better bait," Michael said evenly. His eyes were always so cold. You shuddered involuntarily as you lost eye contact with him and turned back around.

"Oh now, little boss," Isaiah pish-poshed. "You know (Y/N), she means no harm. Besides, these two fillies are the bread and butter of our nights."

Isaiah tucked you into his side with a squeeze, smiling down at you. You wrapped an arm around him inside his coat and squeezed back.

"You watch your hands, now," he joked. "I'm a respectable young man."

You threw your head back against his arm with a loud laugh and met his gaze nose to nose.

"Isaiah Jesus, your name might be holy but you are sinful as they come," you taunted, ghosting your lips across his. 

Isaiah mocked shock, good mouth agape as he shot a look to Finn who had sped up to walk beside you two. 

"Finn, did you hear what she said?" Isaiah said as his free hand clutched his heart. "She called me sinful. She's yours now, mate. My heart's done broke for the night."

He dropped his arm from your shoulder and playfully pushed you into Finn who caught your arm as you stumbled his way. 

"Striking out with everyone already, are ye?" Finn chuckled. "Not a good omen for the night."

"You know why Isaiah calls him 'little boss,' right?" You taunted, loudly whispering so everyone could hear. 

"Yeah, why's that, then?" Michael said, mouth tight as your friend hung on him.

"Shhhh," your scowled at him before turning your full attention to Finn. "I'm talking to a real Shelby." 

Michael scoffed behind you. 

"Yeah, Finn's a real asset to the company," Michael deadpanned. 

Finn's face grew tight. You quickly grabbed his chin and made him look at you. 

"Hey now, boss," you said lightly. "You pay no attention to Mr. Fancypants over there. You're more man than he'll ever be. He's just acting tough to make up for all those years in his perfect little village."

Finn's lip twitched and his face relaxed into a small smile. You playfully knuckled his chin and kissed his cheek.

"Enough now," Isaiah called as he took the lead of the group. "We're almost to the pub, just stop bickering and have a good time, yeah?"

You all toned in agreement. 

You felt a weight in your stomach as you reached the Garrison and saw the people pushing to fit in the pub. You had been going most nights every week for ages, on top of your day job at a desk, and honestly the booze and the drugs had started to lose its appeal. 

"Come on," your friend squealed as she dragged you through the doors.

The pub was packed, but the sight of the boys behind you cleared a path to a table. It's occupants stared at your group wide eyed before quickly tipping their hats and leaving their seats. Finn pulled a chair back for you and you playfully patted his cheek as you sat, your friend sitting across the table next to Michael. Finn and Isaiah sat with you in the middle, your back to the busiest part of the pub. The seat made you uneasy, vulnerable. 

You jumped as you felt a hand brush your shoulder. 

"Here ya'ar," Harry said briskly as he sat whiskey down for everyone and gave the boys beers as well. 

The table mumbled their thanks and the boys started a conversation you quickly tuned out. You looked around you to the other patrons, scoping out who could be reeled in for snow or smoke or even the bit of opium in Isaiah's pocket. 

Most were men tired from the long day of work, but there were pockets of young people with girls your own age that were out for a raucous night. You always focused on them. They usually had the money and the nights to lose. Asking the working men always felt like taking food out of their family's mouths, and the extra layer of scum from the thought sickened you.

"You don't have to go to scoping right away," Finn yelled down your ear to overcome the boon of voices surrounding you. "Relax. Have your drink. We're all friends here, are we not? No need to rush off right away."

You smiled thinly and nodded, looking back to the table. Michael had his arm swung around your friend's shoulders and she had taken his cigarette to smoke while he continued on some sort about the office. You only heard every other word from the roar of the pub, but he leaned forward to slap the table and the boys erupted with laughter, so you chuckled weakly along. 

Isaiah wrapped an arm around you absentmindedly as he went on with his story and you ran your middle finger around the rim of your whiskey glass.

"So Arthur sent me to collect from…"

You toned him out, thoughts swirling your head as you circled your glass. Did you want to drink? Should you? It would surely help with your nerves from the noise. But oh, being drunk had become so dull. 

"... And I said 'well we either take your eyes out your coin, you choose!'" Isaiah said as he rocked back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, his smile smug. 

"Give 'em protection and they don't even wanna pay for it," Finn scoffed. "Bloody ungrateful."

You gritted your teeth together before you gripped your glass and drank it down in one go. The whiskey coated your throat and burned down your throat to the brick in your stomach. It eased your muscles as you rolled your tongue against your teeth. I guess we're doing this again.

It might have eased your body, but the crowd felt louder, more invasive. Having your back to the door felt like wearing a target. You itched to move. You looked around the pub again, your hand idly on your glass as you skimmed the crowd. A set of eyes locked with yours. 

You smiled slowly, raising a brow in challenge. The young man smiled back. He wasn't ugly, nor was he entirely attractive. Just a random face in the pub to pull to the table to sell some tokyo. A little flirting might get you a drink from the deal. You tilted your head slightly, looking over to the bar and back to the man before you twisted back around to the table. You stood up with your glass, bent slightly to Isaiah's ear. 

"Got a bite," you said. "I'll be at the bar."

Isaiah nodded. 

"Feel him out and bring him 'round then, yeah?"

You stood up and made your way for two seats near the end of the bar, near the private Shelby room. You sat down on the one farther in, giving the man a clean exit if he was uninterested in what you were willing to offer. 

You held your breath until you felt someone stand beside you.

"(Y/N)," He nodded as he pulled out the chair and sat. 

"John," you replied, mimicking his tone but you couldn't help but lift a brow in surprise of the older Shelby boy joining you at the bar top.

You both were around each other enough to know of each other, but you rarely spoke. You stayed around the younger group and away from Tommy and Arthur. The oldest two were nice enough, but you knew their business and had seen when they decided not to be nice. Better to keep your head down and stick to the younger men who were still enamored with snow and tits. 

John lit a cigarette and watched as you ran a finger around the rim of your empty glass, not daring to turn to look him in the eye.

"You're not yourself lately," he said with an easy smile before he inhaled his cigarette. 

He pulled it from his lips and let out an exhale as he nudged you with his shoulder and offered it to you. 

"How do you know what I'm like?" Your finger froze on the glass before your hand fell to the side. 

You picked up your glass to drink, but at it down as you realized it was still empty. You slowly turned your head to look back at him.

"You're grinning gunpowder most nights, ready to blow at a moment's notice," John chuckled as his eyes roamed your face and down your body. "Lately you've been different. Not all checked in."

"That so?" You smirked as you took his cigarette from his hand and took a puff. You sized him up as your hand rested the cigarette on the counter. "Do you usually watch your little brother's pals this closely?"

John gave a short laugh. 

"You should see Tommy," he said. "He knows every dirty secret of anyone who so much as spends a night around a Blinder."

"Smokes and mirrors," you said before you brought the cigarette back to your lips and inhaled. "You didn't answer my question."

"No."

"So why'd you sit by me, then?" You exhaled with a curl of smoke. "Tommy making sure one of his brother's bait girls isn't stepping out of line?"

"Is that it?" John said as he took his cigarette back. "You like a boy that's not a Blinder and rather be with him most nights?"

You snorted. 

"There's no boy," you said incredulously. "Think me that foolish? Or that shallow?"

"Well if it's not a boy you aren't knocked up," John said as he smoked. 

"Not everything is sex and drugs, Shelby," you scoffed. "I know none of you believe that, but it's true."

"Who says we don't believe in more than that?" John said. "Sometimes we believe in guns."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but crack a smile. 

"Ehhh, see?" John said as he nudged your shoulder. "There's still a bit of the old girl in there."

"The old girl is just getting sick of the same old thing," you mumbled. 

"What's that?" John frowned. 

Harry appeared, hastily wiping the bar as he set out a glass for John and refilled yours. 

"Sorry, sir," Harry rasped. "Night's a bit crazy. Makes me think we should hire another as help."

"It'sfine," John nodded at Harry as he wrapped his hand around his drink and turned toward you. "Now what're you on about?"

"I asked what you were after," you said louder. "You older ones don't bless us with your presence much."

"Not that much older," John grinned. "You're Isaiah's age, right? Six year age gap is nothin'."

"You know I'm not myself and my age," you said amused as you squeezed your glass, "but you won't tell me what you're after. Mr. Shelby, are you chasing after bait?"

John smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. 

"Love," he said as smoke poured through his teeth. "I don't chase no one."

Masterlist

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #john shelby x reader #John Shelby #isaiah jesus #finn shelby #michael gray #storytime with murderousginger

[ash-mcj]

warning: cussing (as always with me lol) and includes a few self-hating lyrics to the song SugarCrash! by ElyOtto. this was written super fast because the song came on and I felt inspired, so please forgive any mistakes.

***

Stiles went through fixations. Sometimes he’d eat one type of food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for a week or more. Sometimes he’d watch the same movie every day after his classes. Just last month, he compiled enough information on the different types of Nymphs to put together a fully detailed Nymph-oriented beastiary. 

This time, it was a song called SugarCrash! - a very upbeat, annoying song that was quickly driving the pack insane. Headphones weren’t all that useful when the wolves could still clearly hear his music as if he were blasting it from a speaker. 

It was when Stiles stumbled downstairs on the fifth day of listening to the song - which happened to be the morning of the full moon - that Erica snapped.

Don't wanna be someone else, just don't wanna hate myself I just don't wanna hate myself, instead I wanna feel good

“Stiles!” She dropped her fork onto the table and shot him a glare. “It’s way too fucking early for your peppy techno bullshit.”

I'm on a sugar crash, I ain't got no fuckin' cash Maybе I should take a bath, cut my fuckin' brain in half I'm not lonely, just a bit tired of this fuckin' shit

Stiles took an earbud out and raised an eyebrow at her inquisitively. “What’d you say?”

Erica put her face in her hands and groaned into her palms.

“Your song is driving us crazy,” Boyd repeated for her.

“It’s way too upbeat - especially today,” Isaac said. “It’s stabbing my eardrums and making me want to rip your head off.”

“Okay, rude.” Stiles pouted as he paused the music. “I like it.”

Derek looked between his betas and Stiles, who had somehow moved into the rebuilt Hale house once they enrolled in college. 

“Well, I’m gonna go watch something with the volume turned all the way up,” Erica said as she stood from the table.

“Onward might be calming,” Boyd suggested, clearing her plate as he did his.

“I vote Fast and Furious.” Isaac followed them out.

Once they were gone, Stiles moved into the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter.

“It’s not happy,” Derek pointed out. 

“The apple?” Stiles snorted. “Well, I’m about to put it out of its misery.”

“The song.”

“Ah - you’re a lyrics listener, huh?”

“Lyrics are the best part.”

Stiles shrugged. “A lot of people listen for the beat.”

“You don’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because your song fixations always correspond with how you’re feeling.”

“Aw, you pay attention to my music fixations, oh Alpha mine?” Stiles teased as he moved around Derek on his way back out of the kitchen.

The wolf grabbed his arm and pinned him with what Stiles recognized as his Serious Eyebrows and those green, searching eyes that made Stiles’ skin crawl, as they made him feel like Derek could see into his soul.

“Are you okay?” Derek asked him.

Stiles glanced down at where Derek was touching him, but the older man didn’t make any move to break the contact. Stiles didn’t mind in the slightest. His heavy hand was comforting.

“Yeah, Sourwolf.” Stiles smiled softly. “Just having a week, I guess. I’ll be good, though.”

Derek nodded. “Well...if you need anything.”

“I know.”

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #berica #my snippets #derek listens #derek pays attention #good alpha derek hale

[babylooneytoonz]

A Gangster's Heart - Tommy Shelby x Reader

A/N : I just felt like writing this because I was feeling weirdly emotional when I woke up. Also, I didn't get a chance to proofread it so please pardon me if there are some grammatical shits. I was on a Peaky Blinders hiatus and I just hadn't written in so long, please forgive me if this is bad .

Warnings : Just Angst , Mentions of vulgarity

You glared at the man in the Blinder cap that was leaning against the doorframe of your quaint little shop in Small Heath, Birmingham City. You pulled out a small brown box from one of the drawers and slammed it rather loudly against your desk, sliding the keys in as you twisted it around and the box unlocked with an unceremonious click. You looked at the bills that were securely resting inside, and a hollow feeling filled you up when you realized that you had been saving this to buy your mother that dress at the seamstress shop.

"I always pay my bloody rent. This month the business 's tight. I even told Finn that this month I need a relaxation on the bloody rent and I will pay it all with the next month's rent. Why are you here again asking for the goddamn money?"

"Listen, Miss, we really are in no fucking position to not do what Tommy asks us to, so if Tommy –“ the man you knew as Curly shuffled the weight of his body from his left foot to right, and his palm slid into the pocket of his pants as he pulled out a box of cigarettes.

"So if Tommy asks you to jump off a fucking building, you are going to jump off the fucking building, yeah?' Exasperated, you slammed the box shut, and slid it back into the drawer again.

"I can come back tomorrow, Mr. Shelby won't ask me for the money until 9 in the morning. I can come collect it at 8."

You let out a loud groan of frustration, and involuntarily, your elbows came to rest on the desk as you buried your face into your palms. Finally taking a deep breath, you looked up, and your lips parted, your lower lip almost quivering, "Listen, I - I can't bloody pay Tommy the rent this month, the business is tight, and I barely made enough to pay my apartment rent."

Curly almost shook his head, scratching the side of his face as his hand mechanically flew up to his lips and he took a drag of his cigarette. Finally he nodded, and cleared his throat, "T's okay, Miss Y/L/N, I'll inform Tommy."

"You do that." You nodded and watched him leave. Almost instantly, you slammed your fist against your desk in frustration and let out an unceremonious groan, more so at the sudden onset of a headache at the side of your head. "Great, just fucking great."

An hour later, you grabbed your trenchcoat, throwing your arms through the sleeves in a hurried manner, and wrapped your scarf around your neck to keep yourself warm. These days, you were staying at your shop for longer hours, and this meant that you left from the shop at the odd night hours, mostly after 10. You grabbed your house keys, and walked out of the shop, your boots crushing the faint hue of ice that blanketed the streets of Small Heath, and you locked your shop.

Hugging the side of your arms, you started walking down the sidewalk, keeping your head to the ground, when you heard the sound of hushed whispers that made your head snap up in the direction of the voices. For the people of Small Heath, the men who belonged to the Peaky Blinders always stood out, perhaps it was because of how they dressed, and the unmistakable razorblade caps on top of their heads.

Of course, Tommy Fucking Shelby had sent them to probably collect the rent from you. You didn't know what came over you, but the nearest you could classify it as was a fit of rage, as you found yourself walking towards the men, your nostrils flared, and your fingers clenched together in a fist, balling the side of your coat.

"Listen here, I already told Curly that I'm in no fucking position to pay this month's bloody rent. You can all go and tell your boss that intimidating me by sending you lads is not going to fucking get me to pay the fucking rent."

One of the man took of his cap and stepped a bit closer, raising both his hands in the air, "but Miss Y/N, Mr. Shelby hasn't – "

"Oh, please lad. Don't justify the threatening acts of your boss, just because he runs your razorblade gang, it doesn't mean that I'm scared of him. Where the fuck is he anyway? I would rather settle this with him on his bloody face than stand around in the middle of the street at 10 at night and argue with you all." You huffed, as words shot out of your mouth like bullets raining down on them. The man who had began speaking stood there with his jaw slightly hanging, and no words came out of his lips.

"Well, I'm gonna go and settle this at the betting shop. Talk directly with Tommy." Before waiting for them to reply, you turned your tail, and started walking down the same street again, in the same direction from where you had come. But this time, your steps were confident, your head was raised as you found yourself walking towards the Shelby Betting shop.

•·················•·················•

"Miss, where do you think you are going?" Someone's voice called out as you barged through the front door, and pushed your way through a few men that were already on their way out, ignoring the voice of the man who had called out to you.

You walked up to the massive copper door that held a plate that read TS, and you abruptly knocked on the door. You waited a few seconds when you heard the muffled voices inside the room go off, and heavy footsteps began ascending towards the door on the other side.

You crossed your arms over your chest, and waited until the door finally opened, and you saw John leaning by the door.

"John."

Acknowledging him barely, you pushed past him and stepped inside, until you were striding towards Tommy who was standing by the telephone, speaking to someone. His icy blue eyes met yours and he slowly raised his palm towards you, asking you to hold on to whatever you had to say to him, while John just made his way to where you were and fixed himself by your side, giving you a confused look.

Finally, after about a minute, Tommy finally hung up and placed the receiver back, slowly turning to you.

"Is there anything –"

"Cut it, Tommy. If you think you can scare me off by sending your Blinders to do your dirty bidding for you, then you're wrong. Here– " Your fingers flew to your scarf, and Tommy just squinted his eyes, his confusion evident from his face as he turned to look at John and then back at you.

"What are you– "

You pulled off a gold chain that you remembered wearing almost all your life; ever since you were a little girl. It was that one piece of jewelry that you owned, and that you cherished, because it had been given to you by your father. You literally pulled at the chain, hissing slightly as it detached itself from your neck and you curled your fingers tightly around it, and finally slammed it on Tommy's desk.

"There. I hope this will be enough. I don't have anything else that I can give you. I hope to God that this settles it."

Turning around, not even waiting for Tommy to reply, and without sparing a look at his confused brother, you turned your tail and fuming, you walked out of Tommy's office, without giving him another look. Brittle tears stung in your eyes and your cheeks felt hot. You kept walking, ignoring the way your body was shaking, like an autumn tree shedding its leaves until you were outside and fixed to the wall, the back of your head resting against its surface. Finally, you broke down, your palm pressed to your trembling lips as you were taken over by uncontrollable sobs.

You didn't know how you calmed yourself; but somehow you did. You wiped your tear stained cheeks with your sleeve and looked up at the sky for a bit, staring at the moonless night, as you started walking back home, with your thoughts and your heavy heart. You were angry with Tommy Shelby, you were angry with yourself, and how you had to depend on the Peaky Blinders to run your little shop.

You kept walking, until the familiar silhouette of your tiny apartment was visible, it's dull grey white walls a striking contrast to the red brick buildings around it. A lonely flickering lightbulb illuminated the front door, and the windows of the building looked like they were about to fall off. It wasn't the best place to live, but it was home. You smiled to yourself when you saw your mother standing by the kitchen window, her frail little hands working on the dishes as she scrubbed them relentlessly. And just as quick the smile was, it vanished into thin air at the sight of her.

You lifted your foot, ready to walk towards her when a vulgar leer subjected to you made you freeze on spot, "Oi look what we've got here, eh lads, what a pretty little thing she is." You could only look at them, with bewilderment and fear in your eyes, as two men stepped out of nowhere, and fixed themselves on either side of you.

"Yeah, leave me the bloody hell alone," you mumbled as you tried to manoeuvre your way through the space between them, in an attempt to walk away, but one of them grabbed your arm, and pulled you back with a rough tug, "Now who the fuck asked you to leave eh? Fuckin' whore."

The man stank of booze and sweat, and it made you want to throw up. You threw him a look full of disgust, and anger as you placed your palm where the man was gripping your arm and tried to pry his hand off you, "Get your fucking hands off me. Don't you dare touch me."

"Maybe you didn't hear me, you whore. I didn't ask you to leave. Where's a pretty little thing like you headed when I can show you, yeah, a bloody good time?" He only laughed, while his hand suddenly shot out and grabbed the hem of your coat, his fingers now dragging it up so he could reach your skirt. You smacked at his hand, hard enough for the slap to echo back into your ears and tried to move away.

"Maybe you need to be taught a fucking lesson." The man spat at the ground beside you, and the other man grabbed your other arm, as they started dragging you towards the dumpster by the side of the street, on the sidewalk. You screamed, as loud as your throat could, thrashing your feet and trying to get away, but they were two, and you were a woman, nowhere as strong as their grips on you were.

The men somehow managed to drag your protesting form to the dumpster, and they pushed you over it, so you had your front pressed to it, your body bent over it at an awkward angle. You hissed, your eyes closing as reflex when you felt a slithering hand latch itself to your thighs, underneath your coat and the hand started moving upwards, forcing you to try to press your legs together to stop him from going any further, "Quit whining you bitch, and let me show you what a real lad takes a whore like. You must like it rough yeah? You must love to have our cocks smashin' into that tight little cunt of yours?"

You closed your eyes, your throat now parched from the screaming, but you knew, deep down that no one was coming. You were on your own.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" That voice enough was enough to tell you that the men had their death sentences already laid out. Maybe it was Tommy's voice, or maybe it was the realization who he was, the hands that were seconds back trying to grope you immediately pulled away.

"We were, uh, just having fun."

"Would you still have fun if I decide to fucking cut your throats and leave you to bleed to your deaths?" Finally, he stepped closer to you, and that's when the men saw who he was, and the realization finally sunk in, as the pale moonlight now illuminated his face, his emotionless eyes and the vein that popped over his eyebrow.

"Mr. Shelby, we .. we.. oi, get the fuck out of here, Jack.." He screamed at the man that was accompanying him, and the two of them turned around immediately, pulling you by your arm and thrusting you into Tommy's chest, to buy them time to escape. The minute your body collided with Tommy's, his arm immediately wrapped around your waist, his hand coming to hold you from the low of your back to steady to your feet. Once he was sure that you were okay, he roughly shoved you towards the wall, and his form stepped in front of you, shielding your vision from what he was going to do.

"Look away, Y/N," his voice commanded.

"Tommy, please get me out of –"

"What bloody part of look away do you not understand?" He practically snapped at you and the crudeness in his words made you almost whimper and press yourself against the wall, as you turned towards the wall and pressed your face to it.

Your body shuddered, even more so when you heard the two shots that were fired from a gun, and suddenly it went silent.

"Come on, love," you felt someone place his arms over either of your shoulders , almost pulling you towards him and slowly, numbly you turned around, tears freely spilling down your eyes, the shrill ringing sound buzzing through your ears. Tommy pulled you close, almost into his chest, as he protectively wrapped his arm around your shoulder and nudged you to walk with him.

"You killed them, you fucking ... killed them." Words began spilling from your mouth as tears began spilling again from your eyes, and you didn't stop mumbling, it was like your mind was blank, and your lips were moving on your own. It was only when Tommy's index finger pressed to your lips, that you stopped mumbling those barely incoherent words, and craned your neck to look at him as you mouthed, in a low voice, "you killed them, Tommy."

Tommy kept you pressed to himself, his arm holding you as he began walking down the street, and you moved along with him.

"This is who I am. Yeah, I fucking killed them, and I would do it again, and will not feel a bloody ounce of regret if they tried to do that again."

It was as though your mind had frozen out, you couldn't think straight. You were still shaking from the aftermath of what you had just witnessed. When you didn't reply, he slowly let go off your shoulder, and you stepped away, almost immediately. He didn't say anything though, as his hand slid into his pocket and he pulled out his box of cigarettes, "I'm going to walk you home."

"No, I need a fucking drink. Just walk me to a place where I could get a fucking drink."

•·················•·················•

Tommy Shelby brought you to the Garrison. And now you were seated on a couch, in the private room of the pub that Thomas Shelby owned. You had already drank two glasses of Irish Whiskey and Tommy was pouring your third glass for you, when you finally looked up at him and reached out, roughly grabbing his other free hand that was laying on the table. He immediately looked up, his eyes meeting yours halfway, as you tilted your head and questioned him silently with your eyes, "I appreciate what you did for me, Tommy, but you didn't have to shoot them."

Tommy leaned forward, sliding your glass towards you and he sat back again, his hand mechanically moving up to his lips as he inhaled the smoke from his lit cigarette.

"Listen, there are things that I do, I do them for a fucking reason, I didn't want you to see which is why I asked you to bloody look away." His voice was cold.

You curled your fingers around your glass and lifted it up, bringing it to your lips as you took a small sip of the drink, letting the burning liquid rush down the canal of your throat. When you didn't reply, Tommy leaned forward, his fists clenched and his lips pressed together.

"I can see that you want to say something, Tommy." You almost whispered.

"This is the fucking reason why, I don't like you working at the shop after the sun sets."

You almost snorted at his words, and instantly your glass flew to your lips, and this time you gulped down two mouthfuls of it and placed the glass back, giving Tommy a look that reflected the annoyance you felt at the situation, "Are you telling me it's my fucking fault, that I wanted this to fucking happen?"

"If I wasn't there on time," Tommy almost began, but his voice was incredibly low, and he immediately stopped his words from spilling out, thinking that you hadn't heard, but you had heard him nonetheless, "Where the hell were the boys when this happened?"

"What?" Your head snapped in his direction, as you gave him a look of confusion.

"Nothing. Come on. I'm gonna walk you home."

"Thomas –" You stood up almost immediately, your eyes burning a hole at the back of his head. "What did you mean about the boys?"

Tommy took a last drag of his cigarette before stubbing it into the ashtray as he stood up, and slid his hand into one of his pockets, before placing your gold chain on the table.

"Curly told me of the word he had with you today. And I told him that it was alright." He pressed his palm against the chain and slid it towards you, pulling his hand away. You kept glancing at the chain for a few seconds before you slowly lifted your gaze, fixing it on him.

"I don't understand. Then why were your Blinders following me?"

"They weren't. They were just doing what I had asked them to do."

You stood up, striding towards Tommy until you had placed your palm on his arm, and yanked his head towards you so you could stare into his eyes. "You asked them to follow me. So you could get the fucking money."

The man in front of you shook his head, and pulled his arm away, without uttering a word. You watched as he walked up to the door and fixed himself by the doorframe , his back turned towards you.

"Harry? Where the fuck's Curly? Send him in, yeah?"

He cleared his throat, and turned back towards you, not meeting your gaze.

"I won't accept that chain. You should keep it. And as for the rent, Curly can collect it next month."

You opened your mouth, but at that exact moment, a rather flustered looking Curly knocked on the door and Tommy's attention drifted away, "Curly, can you please make sure Miss Y/ L/N gets back home?" Without giving you a second glance, he walked off and you were left to look at Curly, wondering what you had said to him for him to react the way he did.

"Curly?"

"Yes? Miss Y/N?"

You walked up to the doorframe, and looked out, your eyes scanning for Tommy but you didn't see him anywhere. You craned your neck back so you were now looking at Curly, "If Tommy was okay with me not paying you today, then why were the Blinders following me?"

His hand flew to the back of his head and he gave you a sheepish smile, before flicking his glance away and then back at you.

"It's not really my place to say."

"Curly."

"Oh alright! Tommy sends the Blinders everyday. He just wants to make sure that you safely reach home from the shop and no one bothers you on your way."

•·················•·················•

"Harry! Have you seen Tommy anywhere?" You were literally out of breath as you slammed both your palms against the counter and the bartender looked at you.

"Mr. Shelby just left a few minutes ago."

You didn't even listen to anything else, you had already turned your tail and were practically running out of the Garrison, not bothering as your shoulders knocked into people on your way out.

Stepping into the cold, brittle street, your arms reflexively flew to the side of your arms as you ran down the street, ignoring the way the people were looking at you and murmuring whispers amongst each other. You weren't bothered what they were thinking about you, and your eyes were fixed on the man who was now inches away from you, smoke coiling around him and his back turned towards you as he walked down the street.

"For fucks sake, Thomas Shelby, are you really going to make me run after you like this in the dark?" You called out, watching him freeze as he turned towards you.

"Does that man never listen? I thought I asked Curly to take you home."

Immediately, your hand shot up, and you almost placed your palm up so you could let him know you were speaking. His cold, emotionless eyes moved from your hand to your face, his expressions unreadable.

"I was wrong. But you are worse than me. You send in your fucking Blinders to make sure that I get home safe but never once bother to tell me why. You secretly care about me, but never let me fucking find out. Thomas Shelby, I really don't understand why you do the things you do. You see, from the day I've known you Tommy, the only impression you've given me is that you probably hate me. Or, I don't exist. And then you secretly do this. I am tired of playing these games Thomas Shelby, and I am done begging you to answer. What is wrong with you?"

You watched as Tommy parted his lips in an attempt to reply, but all that shot out of those lips was the foggy winter air before he clamped his mouth shut again. He almost took a step closer and suddenly all you could feel was a weird tension lingering in the air.

"You know what your problem is? You think too much, you bloody assume too much. You're telling me you think I fucking hate you, when all I've ever done is to make sure you're okay."

"Why would you even fucking care about me?" Your voice sounded weak, but you didn't care. You hadn't realized when your lips had started trembling and hot tears had started skimming down your cheeks. Tommy let out a barely audible sigh as he brought his palms closer to your face, his reluctance to hold you pretty evident. Finally, after fighting with himself for so longer, he let his palms cup your cheeks as he pled your face to his, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Some things are best left unsaid, love. I will always care for you, whether you like it or not. Who knows where you'll be tomorrow, who you'll be with, but you will always mean something to me." You smiled when you felt Tommy's lips press against yours, and in those few seconds he kissed you, he gave you all the answers that you wanted, and he didn't even have to say a word.

Permanent Tommy Shelby Taglist ( Fill the form here if you want to be added ) :

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @really-dont-forget-it @thepeakygurl @baumarvel @nyotamalfoy @peakyfooky

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky fucking blinders #tommy shelby

[you-show-me-love]

Booty and the EMT

Gallavich one shot

A fic featuring Mickey's buckshot filled booty, EMT Ian begging to get fired, and a fic author leeching some good story lines and quotes from the show and mixing them like its their own little potion.

"Oh, no fuckin' way." Mickey shouted, leaping higher into the air in shock as warmth spread along his left ass cheek. He had seen the shotgun, had heard it go off, but the adrenaline kept him from feeling the pain he knew was there and just kept running and cursing his brother's shitty intel. It was supposed to be an easy shake down, a one person job, but no one, least of all Mickey, had anticipated the old woman to pull out a shotgun, let alone actually fire the damn thing and hit her target right in the ass. Her shrill voice echoed behind him as he barreled through the fancy neighborhood. 

The slap of his untied shoes against the pavement and harsh breathing filled Mickey's ears. He could swear he heard police sirens closing in, could hear the woman cock the shotgun for another go at him. Eyes wild and lungs burning Mickey cut between cookie cutter homes trying to lose whoever might be pursuing him. The grass under his feet was browning and becoming sparse, litter and debris made him slip and slide around corners. He hit the street again, the fear clenching his heart loosening at the sight of the familiar Southside roads.

He was almost home. Home free.

The prius rolling up behind him was almost silent, but the woman shouting from its passenger seat was not. Mickey looked over his shoulder in time to see her speed up and turn the wheel to point the car in his direction.

"Oh, fuck me!" Mickey cried, taking a harsh left to lose the batshit woman. He was going to die, of all the things he thought would kill him, a pill popping rich bitch was not what he would put money on.

-

The ambulance idled on a side street, back door open wide with two EMTs sitting on the edge. Sue urged Ian to eat something while she filled out an incident report for their latest call. Their day had started before dawn, cleaning and sanitizing and restocking supplies before speeding off from one emergency to the next. The day had slowed, but it wasn't slow enough to justify heading back to the station, so Sue filled out her report and Ian munched on a peanut butter and banana sandwich. 

"Do you remember the mom's name?" Sue asked, brow furrowed as her pen hovered over the clipboard. Ian remembered but couldn't speak past the glob of peanut butter weighing down his tongue. Sue glanced up in time to catch him struggling to swallow, making her laugh.

"Take your time. Not like we have an emergency on our hands."

Ian smirked at her sarcasm and took another bite, narrowing his eyes playfully at his boss. 

Sue rolled her eyes, tossing the clipboard onto the bench seat behind her. 

"Finish that up," she pointed at the last little bit of sandwich before pointing to the clipboard of paperwork, "then finish up that." Sue stretched out her lower back and walked around to the driver's seat when Ian nodded and shoved the last bite of food into his already overcrowded mouth. Pushing himself to standing he turned around to climb back into the back of the truck when he heard someone come up quickly behind him. He turned just in time to see a set of clear blue eyes wide with fear, dark sweaty hair, and a pink plush mouth open with heavy breathing shouting at him to "go, go, go!"

The man's panicked yelling sparked Ian into action, jumping into the ambulance and turning around in time to hoist the man in along with him. The man fell face first onto the patient cot.

"You've been shot!" He said stupidly, tongue still sticky and throat dry. He stared unblinkingly down at the man's blood soaked jeans riddled with bullet holes.

"Yeah, I know I got shot. We need to go." 

He said through clenched teeth, his head turning to look out the open back door. 

Ian closed the doors and yelled into the front cabin at Sue, who managed to take the situation in stride. The woman had seen too much shit on the Southside to be surprised now. She shifted the gear and set her foot to the gas.

The jolt shook Ian out of his surprise. He pulled two nitrile gloves out of the box attached to the side of the rig and pulled them over his shaking fingers. Once done his gloved hands hovered over his mysterious bleeding patient. 

"I'm going to take your pants off." He warned, throat clicking with nerves, or maybe it was just some leftover peanut butter.

Mickey scoffed and pulled his pants down just below his ass, his low groans of pain muffled by the cot his face was pressed into. Once they got far enough down he pulled his arms back under him for support and gave Ian a pained, questioning glare. Not that Ian noticed since his focus was entirely only the now exposed flesh of his backside. 

The first thing Ian noticed was how round it was, and pale and fleshy and biteable. Somehow his brain recognized those things before it comprehended the buckshot sprayed along his right cheek, a few larger wounds still weakly bleeding.

"What is it, your first day? Move your ass." 

Sue snorted from the driver's seat, glancing back in time to see her partner go from ghostly pale to an embarrassed red. Ian shook his head trying to literally clear it of his inappropriate thoughts.

"No." He argued, suddenly defensive. He skillfully pulled gauze, forceps and antiseptic from their places about the rig, knowing his jaw was jutting out petulantly. He took a deep breath as he opened the sterile packaging, hoping his attempt to calm down went unnoticed.

Lucky for him Mickey was too busy suffering a gunshot wound to pay attention. 

"Can you tell me your name?" Ian asked, figuring some bedside manners wouldn't hurt. It was part of the patient routine; ask them some personal questions, talk them through the pain, work quickly and efficiently, be professional…

"Yeah my name is fuck you, Doc." Mickey snarked, raising his middle finger in front of his face. Ian grinned before he could stop himself, tickled by his attitude and the flash of a crudely tattooed knuckle. 

"Not a doctor." Ian corrected, flattening his smile as best he could and turning his attention to the wounds. He swallowed heavily before gingerly wiping the blood, both wet and dried, from the wounded area.

"Gonna tell me your name now?" Ian tried again, his body settling into his task. Helping people was exhilarating in how calm it made him. Made him feel like he had some control in his life.

"Fuck you just fix me!" 

What Ian did next was not at all professional, frankly it would probably get him fired, but that didn't stop him and his basic male brain from doing it anyway. He smacked the uninjured ass check with an open, gloved palm and smirked as it jiggled.

"Cooperate or I won't numb you."

Mickey's weak curse could barely be heard over the engine. Fists clenched under his shoulders he dared a glance over at Ian, meek blue eyes meeting challenging green.

"Mickey." 

He didn't look back after giving in, just kept his head down and his bottom lip between his teeth and waited.

"Thank you Mickey, my name is Ian. I need to ask you a few questions."

Mickey nodded.

"Are you allergic to any medications?"

Mickey shook his head.

"Did you take anything recently?"

Mickey shook his head again.

Ian reached over Mickey to grab some things from a cabinet on the other side of the rig. Mickey watched him out of the corner of his eye.

He was young and white, like Mickey, and yet that was where he felt their similarities ended. His coppery red hair was styled and his skin unmarred by sweat or dirt or blood. Mickey's own unstyled hair and skin were caked with all three. He was messy and dirty and his ass hurt where it was shot and tingled with a pleasant warmth where it was smacked and he had to wonder if they had a few other things in common. The kind of commonality Mickey didn't let others know about. 

A man could dream.

"Gallagher, is this something you can handle or should I stay on route to the hospital?" Sue called into the back. She was on the longest route back to the hospital she could think of as it is, really just enjoying a casual drive, not very eager to end the entertainment the duo in the back was providing her. 

"No hospitals lady!" Mickey bellowed, sending a desperate look to Ian. If he was related to the Southside Gallaghers at all he had to understand why the hospital was not an option. If he wasn't then Mickey would have to figure out how to get past him and out of the moving vehicle with his ass out.

"I got it Sue. Can you actually head over to North Wallace?"

Sue smirked, putting on her blinker and slowing to five miles under the speed limit. The report she would write for this call was getting copied and taped all over Ian's locker by tomorrow.

"You got it boss." She quipped, seeing Ian's cheeks flush from the rearview mirror.

-

Mickey was sufficiently numbed, but he could still feel the forceps digging into his flesh. It was off-putting and making him look back and check that Ian was indeed mending his wounds. The problem was every time he looked back he saw a gorgeous redhead diligently working on his ass and not in the way he wanted. 

Ian was in his groove, the bouncing of the rig as they drove over uneven streets barely phasing him as he inspected each puncture and scratch of skin for embedded buck shot. The work was second nature, practically a meditation, which allowed his mind to wander over to other topics, namely the man under his fingertips. 

His first thought once his hands began to work was whether or not he had gone too far (and he knew he did). Between the light spank and literally telling his boss to take them back to his place he had a feeling he had crossed a few lines and yet he wanted to do more. Maybe grip that uninjured cheek, pull and push it and feel its plumpness under his hand. Maybe give it a few more smacks until Ian left a bright red handprint. 

Mickey let out a pained groan between clenched teeth, snapping Ian out of his fantasies and back to what actually needed to be done to the man's ass. The local anesthetic wasn't meant to last long or numb too much, just enough to get someone patched up and back out there or to the hospital for further help. Ian was having to dig deep into the open wound to pull out shrapnel and no anesthetic on hand was going to make it hurt any less.

"Fuck." Mickey wheezed, fists clenching the padding below him. His breath was becoming heavier, his throat thick with the pain. He was a Milkovich dammit, and Milkoviches can take pain. He tried to keep his tough demeanor in check, but pained noises reverberated in his throat, hitting each other as they became more frequent. 

"Hey, hey, shhh." Ian consoled his patient as best he could while focusing on getting the forceps around the bullet. He didn't have enough hands to hold the fleshy skin in place and hold the forceps and also run a soothing hair through thick, dark hair so he had to stick with the actions that would get his job done.

Luckily Sue came to the rescue from the driver's seat.

"So Mickey, got a girlfriend?"

Mickey was so thrown by the question the noises in his throat died and instead produced a stangled, "What?"

She glanced back at her partner, noting his attention had shifted away from the painful operation as well and rolled her eyes.

"Or boyfriend. Whatever."

Mickey sputtered and squirmed, eyebrows brunching into a grumpy defensive face, but the splayed fingers digging into the side of his injured ass cheek reminded him to stay still. He dared a glance back to see that hand squeeze into his flesh again before moving back to encircling the wounds.

"Don't do girlfriends." He shot back, after taking a moment to choose his words carefully. He urged himself to not glance back at McSteamy to gauge his reaction nor look into the small window at the front of the rig and meet the eyes of some nosey bitch who was probably smell his gay panic. 

"Really? Good lookin' guy like you?" 

Ian glared at Sue in the rearview mirror then catching sight of familiar houses beyond her signaling he should hurry up and get this last bit out. Jutting his chin in determination Ian dug into the deep puncture. 

Mickey was dizzy with pain, biting into the strap attached to the cot and moaning at such an intensity he tasted blood.

"Got it!" Ian cried in victory waving the bloodied metal bit in the air between the forcep ends. His other hand free of work bounced joyfully one more time off Mickey's uninjured ass cheek. Mickey dropped the strap from between his teeth in a jumble of relief and shock.

"Fuck man." He groaned. His voice was shot, eyes heavy, and his upper body tired, and he didn't notice he had passed out until large freckled hands were pulling him off the cot. 

His vision swam as he was manhandled into standing, the woman driving them a blur of brown hair and blue uniform. She was laughing with the redhead about something and Mickey's pain-addled brain assumed it was about him. He frowned and tried to push away from all the hands pushing and pulling him out of the ambulance. His ass was on fire and his head was throbbing and why is the sun so fuckin bright?

"Fuck you" he grumbled, flipping the bird at the fiery ball in the sky.

"Fuck you" he added to the brown and blue blur lady doc, moving his proud middle finger from the sun to her general direction.

"And especially fuck you." He concluded, literally rubbing his obscene gesture in Ian's obscenely good looking mug. 

And if his strong one finger salute fell in favor of grabbing onto a tall defined shoulder so he could get help walking up the steps of the house that's nobody's business.

-

"Uh, why is there a bleeding man on our couch?" 

Lip had walked through the back door after finishing up a cigarette. He had been gone maybe five minutes and yet where there was one no one on their couch before there was now a stranger laying face down. 

Carl shrugged, lifting his foot to tap the man with the tip of his shoe.

"No idea. Ian dropped him off."

Lip came closer, if only to save the man from further poking and prodding his sociopathic little brother could subject him to.

"Huh." Lip grunted, recognizing the crude tattoos across the knuckles dangling off the couch.

"What? Who is it?" Carl asked, crouching down into the man's face as if that would help trigger some recognition with him.

"Mickey fuckin Milkovich. Goddammit Ian, YOU CAN'T BE BRINGING STRAYS HOME LIKE THIS!"

Lip tore open the front door, slamming it behind him. The commotion roused Mickey from his semi-consciousness. He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain running a fucking marathon between his head and his ass. He stood on shaky legs and blindly pushed someone shorter than him out of his space.

"Fuckin Gallaghers." He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He could have gone the rest of his life without Lip's uppity fucking attitude that he apparently never grew out of since high school.

"You ever kill anybody?" Carl asked, stepping back into Mickey's personal space. Mickey raised his eyebrows at the audacity.

"I'm about to if you don't push the fuck back." He put his palm to the boy's shoulder and pushed him bodily away again. 

"Carl, leave him alone." Ian stomped into the house with Lip hot on his heels. Both men wore serious expressions, eyes having a silent argument before Ian looked away and began frisking Mickey in a totally professional medical way.

"You should sit down." Ian mentioned, fingers pressing into the pulse at Mickey's wrist. Ian kind of forgot how to check blood pressure so he was really just squeezing the man's wrist.

"What am I going to sit on Doc? My ass is kinda out of order right now."

Lip snorted behind him and Mickey flipped him off over his shoulder. His jeans were dried with blood and scratchy against the gauze covering his ass cheek as he shifted his weight.

"Stay off the lacerations until they heal. We're going to need to clean the wound and redress it every few hours to prevent infection."

Ian was in EMT mode, his blanket professionalism covering the shitty mood he had acquired when Lip jumped on his case about a Milkovich dirtying up their couch. He had only left Mickey alone long enough to grab some antibiotics and pain pills from the rig and say goodbye to Sue, but it had been enough time for Lip to voice his opinion on the matter. 

"We? You gonna play nurse for me now? Give me a sponge bath?"

Despite managing to keep a straight face Ian could feel his skin heating up. He flicked his eyes to his older brother, knowing the pink in his cheeks would not go unnoticed. 

"Hey, uh, enjoy your sponge bath Mickey." Lip quipped with a smirk, putting a hand around Carl's shoulders and crossing the room to the back door. 

"Ey, fuck you and you're weird ass brother, Lip." Mickey called after him, feeling his own face warm with annoyance at how his joke was twisted to sound. 

Nevermind that it came out exactly how Mickey wanted it to sound. He just forgot Ian's brothers were in the room with them. 

"You got a nurses outfit? With the little hat and the skirt?"

Ian's face pinches in confusion at the shift in Mickey's tone. The man was pale yet pink, eyes tired yet bright. His lips, bitten raw to fight the pain, were now stretched into a flirtatious smirk. Oh god was he actually flirting? Ian swallowed what must have been some lingering peanut butter that was making his tongue and throat feel sticky. 

"What's wrong, Firecrotch? You can spank me but I can't spank back?" Mickey tutted and shook his head, playing up the challenge as he watched Ian's brain reboot and get the program. Once it did his face stretched with an excited smile. Mickey made a show of rolling his eyes to keep his face from doing something worse like matching Ian's dopey expression. 

"Oh, there will be plenty of spanking." Ian muttered, stepping closer to the shorter man and sliding his hand into the back pocket not torn to shreds by the buck shot.

"After I give you that sponge bath."

Mickey nodded, eyes crinkling in the corners when he let his smile hit them full force. 

"Kinda glad I got shot in the ass, man." Mickey confessed, rising on his toes to get an arm around Ian's shoulders for support. Ian guided them around the couch and up the stairs.

"Me too." Ian agreed, laughing when Mickey sends a playful punch into his side.

"You're a bad doctor." 

Ian turned Mickey toward his bed and pushed him down onto it, not giving Mickey time to recover before he was pulling down his pants and exposing his ass again. 

"Told you, I'm not a doctor."

#gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #shameless #gallavich fic #gallavich fanfic #ao3 #shameless fic #i just feel strongly about emt ian

[fukurodaze]

five stars: part 1 | one look

suna rintarou, the second year middle blocker, seems to have an unapproachable crush on you, the third year cheer captain and the definition of a perfect façade. but it’s thanks to one mistaken encounter that the embarrassed meets the embarrassing.

wc: 2.2k warnings: swearing

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the monthly calendar is the only thing hung on the furthest wall in the locker room. it’s a large rectangle, with random pictures of trees and various images from the nagano prefecture - the last location of the spring high tournament. now, the calendar is half as thick, with a large number seven plastered on the left hand corner. 

for the volleyball team, this means one thing: the summer interhigh is around the corner.

suna rintarou, now in his second year of high school, knows this very well. 

a slamming sound fills the room with every ball that is spiked and blocked. the second years are staying back to play another two-on-two match. it’s osamu and suna against atsumu and ginjima. 

there is a delighted grunt from osamu as the ball falls on the other side of the court through ginjima’s arms. the makeshift scoreboard tells a miniscule point difference of one after three sets, and seeing as none of them seemed to feel any sort of prideful victory, the four almost agreed to call it a day.

almost.

“alright! take it from the top!” a familiar voice rings from the other side of the gymnasium. suna hasn’t heard your voice in a while, even though it’s been weeks since the cheer team had started practicing in the same gym as the volleyball team. he tries not to mind.

“let’s do another.” suddenly, suna fixes his posture, pupils moving frantically between the group of cheerleaders across the court and his teammates.

ginjima snickers. atsumu exchanges a glance. osamu smirks, “okay.”

the court is quiet with suspicious looks. there is a hidden laughter underneath all their faces. “what,” suna deadpans, only to meet three mysterious shrugs. 

the next set unfolds the same way the past three did; plenty of practice for every skill set in the game, reminiscent of beach volleyball, and a tiny point gap at the end. 

only this time, suna looks like he’s about to cartwheel and fall into the splits all the while shouting “got it!” or “osamu!” ten times his usual vocal frequency. strangely, there are grunts and groans that make ginjima chuckle, contorted backs during spikes that have atsumu cursing, and sweaty hands through even sweatier hair that eventually lead to the end of the practice session.

suna doesn’t realise why his blood suddenly pumps faster than it usually does when he plays. he also doesn’t realise how his eyes waver constantly between the court and the opposite end of the gym. atsumu thinks it’s almost better that he doesn’t - suna had played well, after all.

“’m kind of cravin’ some yakiniku bowls,” osamu chimes in as the four begin to head out.

“ah, we should get some,” atsumu adds. 

“yeah, i’m fuckin’ starving.” ginjima calls out, turning to suna as they walk.

suna steals a glance at the cheerleaders, finding you already rested on the bench, talking to your teammates. he’s still seated against the wall of the gym, taking another gulp from his water bottle. 

ginjima quirks up his eyebrows and motions towards the door. suna shakes his head. 

“oi, suna! ya comin’?” atsumu asks, and is met with a shrug.

suna watches as the three walk out of the gym in moderately noisy chatter. it’s not long before the group of girls bid farewell to each other as well, walking out the gym in smaller groups of close friends.

not you, though.

suna doesn’t yet dare to speak up in the large space that now only occupies the two of you. it’s been months since you last talked to him anyways - and that was back in his first year - so there was no point.

instead, suna puts down his water bottle and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, rubber soles of volleyball shoes squeaking against the wooden gym floor.

he picks up a ball somewhere on the floor, in a corner a little closer to you, and runs back to his side of the court. he stands still, and bounces the ball a few times, watching its yellow-blue-white lining seemingly mix as it spins and bounces, before holding it tight in his hands.

he throws it up in the air, feeling the ball fly. he waits a few milliseconds before he finds himself launching into the air, hand hitting the ball the way he always does it. a jump floater.

the inflatable mass is shot over the court, hard and fast. it goes far, and as suna’s feet meet the ground, he knows it’s gone too far. 

“shit.” his head snaps your direction. you’re buried in your notebook.

suna sighs, retrieving another ball from a near corner. he doesn’t usually do serve practice, and he doesn’t really use spike serves in the first place. 

some practice is never bad - he knows that - but why does the gym feel so stuffy?

he figures he might as well try a few more jump floaters, watching his wrist so that it keeps still while he jumps. 

suna hopes it’ll at least be some good company for you.

“suna.”

the boy almost jumps internally at the stern voice, hands gripping onto the locker’s edge in surprise. he cringes a bit, slightly dreading the interaction. not that he disliked the person, of course, but suna had felt a bit too tired to put up with anyone, really.

the captain, kita, stands in front of his own locker as suna nods a greeting.

“were you practicing your serves alone?”

suna cringes again. i get it, i don’t usually care about serving, is what he wants to say.

“yeah. i know i don’t really do it often.” suna peels off his sweaty shirt, tossing it into his backpack. he needs to wash it later.

there is ruffling and a zip in the background, then kita tells him, “it seemed like you did well.”

suna’s mind wanders to the question of how and why kita is still at school after not seeing him all afternoon, but it’s not like suna really cares who sees him at practice.

“i wouldn’t know, though, y/n-san told me.”

correction: it’s not like suna really cares who sees him. unless it’s you. because now he really cares. 

suna tries not to button his shirt up the wrong way. “what did she say?”

“she said it looked like you were working hard.”

“ah.” silence fills the room and suna’s gotten his tie in a rookie mistake. oh god. are you and kita classmates? he wonders. do you have a boyfriend? is kita your boyfriend?

soon, kita closes his locker, backpack and duffle bag slung on his shoulders, full summer uniform back on. he almost walks out without a word.

but kita stops at the entrance of the locker room, “i heard y/n-san had a boyfriend?”

suna has to stop his eyebrows from raising too high, so he attempts to shrug it off. he kind of feels bad for kita, seeing as it seems like he’s getting turned down at any chance of conversation.

then he hears kita chuckle. (kita chuckles?)

“just kidding. you don’t have to panic.”

kita genuinely amazes him sometimes. both ironically and frustratingly.

“anyways, keep it up. nationals is just around the corner. don’t be late tomorrow.” suna hears kita’s voice fade out as he exits. suna saves his disbelieving scoff for later.

when suna finally ties his tie without making a fool of himself, he takes all of his belongings in his backpack and heads home with a bit of a fire in his step.

of course he’s not going to be late tomorrow.

suna rintarou was definitely not late to school. in fact, he was the second one there.

apparently, the first person had passed herself out on the bottom most seat on the bleachers, with notebooks and papers laid out all over the occupied area.

suna takes a closer look, just in case the person was no longer alive. just in case.

it feels like a violation of privacy when he finds that it’s you sprawled over the bleachers, now in your uniform blouse and skirt, lip tint and eyeliner already neatly applied. 

yet, your eyes are wide open with your pupils slightly crossed, and suna hates how he has to hope that he doesn’t accidentally laugh.

he’s not sure how to wake you up, since it’s currently six in the morning, and his practice starts at six-thirty, and class starts at eight. it takes a few seconds of standing in silence in front of your passed out body.

two things come into his head: you are pretty. this is pretty weird.

he figures that he might look like he’s looking over a dead body, from the position he and you are in. 

it does seem like you’re breathing, so suna opts for a slight poke of the finger to your shoulder. his long arm and fingers extend in your direction, his body staying back in order to avoid any false misunderstandings when you eventually wake up.

poke. snore.

poke. snore.

poke.

“mmkay, taayk eet fruhm da tap.” your hand moves to extend your pointer finger, the same way suna’s hand looks like now as he pokes you.

suna sighs through a clenched jaw. he clears his throat softly, “senpai?”

you let out a groan. he tries again, louder this time, “y/n-senpai?”

suna’s taken aback when your hand catches his wrist, pulling it as you sit back up, eyes blinking rapidly. 

“i saw that you had fallen asleep, so.” suna regrets his actions when he sees you yawn. maybe he should’ve let you sleep. you shift in your seat, fixing your ruffled skirt. it looks uncomfortable, and you’re thoroughly embarrassed. (you think you feel a tiny trail of drool down your mouth. you wipe it away. yuck.)

“wait, suna rintarou, right?” you blink, “i, uh, i tutored you last year, physics...?”

suna nods, “yeah.”

you let go of his wrist, mumbling, “volleyball players are so tall.”

suna catches that statement of yours. he doesn’t ask, though, even if it makes him grin inside.

“oh god. how long was i asleep for?” you reach for your phone on the other side of the bench, gasping at the time, “it’s ten past six...”

you look up to the boy, then your papers, then the boy, “uh, suna-san, i’m so sorry for this, but could you help me gather everything? i was revising our cheering programs for the basketball and volleyball games, so there’s just a lot of past papers and everything.”

suna hums in response, quietly complying and collecting your papers. there are numbers on each of them, and suna makes sure to put them in order as you continue to sort out your papers on your side of the seat, muttering short curses that suna hadn’t believed would come out of your mouth so easily if he had seen you a year ago. 

“do you have practice for cheer too in the mornings?” suna flinches at the short silence between his question and your answer, but you look at him with what he thinks is the sweetest, most tired smile he’s ever seen.

“no, not really. our schedules are basically the same as the basketball and volleyball teams, but without the morning practices,” you continue, “recently, school’s been starting up this new badminton team and having them outside instead, so we just have to compromise.” your tone turns slightly sour, unfiltered by your lack of sleep.

“doesn’t the cheer team have a supervisor?” suna questions, genuinely concerned at how you seem to be the only one making plans for the cheer team.

you shake your head, “it’s just me and yuki-chan. we have two captains, in case we ever have overlapping games, but it’s really it. we just make appointments with the principal from time to time, to make sure she doesn’t forget about us.”

“ah. that... sucks.”

you shrug, catching his gaze on you. he looks away. “tell me about it.”

suna hands you the rest of the papers and you murmur a quick thank you before you’re hugging the folder of papers to your chest, backpack still somewhere on the floor. you’re about to exit the gym when you feel a lightness on your shoulders that is far too nice for your responsibilities, and that’s when you make a u-turn, “shit, my backpack.”

“i got it.” suna has his backpack on his shoulders and one strap of your bag in the crease of his elbow. in his arms, your bag looks light. your head tilts in amusement.

“thanks. i’ll-”

“i can carry it for you, if you want.”

you near him, eyes laced with burden. you tell him not to worry, trying to lecture him about his morning practice and how people might already start coming to practice, but suna tells you that it’s only quarter past six in the morning and that he can walk you to class because it’s nicer to sleep on desks instead of the bleachers. 

so you smile, because how could you not?

"would kita be mad if you’re late?”

suna grimaces at your mention of kita - without honorifics. are you two that close? suna wishes you could call him without any honorifics, too, maybe even his first name-

“suna-san?”

his eyes pierce into yours and he cocks his head forwards, brisk walking out of the gym. there’s a ghost of a smile on his face, and it reminds you of the last time you had really talked with him, less than a week after he had gotten a well-deserved 89 on the final physics exam - it was almost a 50 point improvement. 

suna shakes his head, chuckling, “we won’t be late.”

his voice is only a little bit deeper now than it was then. his summer uniform fits him well.

you realise that he is handsome before he is your underclassman. 

taglist: @maitenight @natszoo @ssuna @erens-piss-cleaner @osamus-onigiri @volleybloop @etherealiwa​ @agaashesmilktea @bicchaan @anngelllla @tycrackculture

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#hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna x reader #haikyuu scenarios #suna scenarios #suna rintarou #haikyuu suna #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #suna imagines #haikyuu imagines #suna x you #haikyuu x you #hq fluff