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primaviva · 9 months

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PAIRINGS: gwen, miles (42!), hobie, pav, and miguel x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS: astv characters and their s/o going to see barbie.

WARNING/NOTES: matching outfits, the mention of o-o-oppenheimer 🤢🤮, barbie photo ops, miguel being a mamón

— GWEN

i hate to say it so… but she wanted to watch oppenheimer first.

she sent you a text talking about sum “babe let’s see oppenheimer it looks good 🥰” and then you sent her a voice memo of gun shots from your gun sound simulator app and she understood she was wrong.

gwen thinks father of the atomic

it’s not like she didn’t wanna see barbie but she was like… it’s barbie

“babe cmon! you can’t tell me oppenheimer doesn’t look cool. what is barbie even about? is she gonna go on an adventure to find that old rubber high heel the little girl that owns her lost those many years ago? oooo so interesting.”

“do not mock me gwendolyn.”

you showed her the trailer as gwen showed you the oppenheimer trailer

in the end you both lost.

yeah… oppenheimer is a glorification a historical event that people don’t touch on the affects it had and rather the men behind it

and yeah… barbie having an existential crisis on what it means to be a woman and her place in the world sounded like it had potential

“i mean, yeah the trailer is kinda fire,” you admitted, weak in defeat.

gwen crossed her arms with a smirk of victory. “see! i told you that it looked cool,” she rubbed in your face before changing her expression, “but… barbie also sounds like it’s gonna be good. who says we can’t do both?”

you guys do barbieheimer.

and since you both were already gonna indulge in the internet craze… of course you played into it

gwen dressed in all black in this tux and even got the hat to match

you on the other hand wore all pink in tribute to barbie

she was FAWNING over you.

the cute outfit? the accessories? you in general?

you also couldn’t lie with how attractive gwen looked in a blazer I MEANNNN

she wore a bunch of rings on her hands and had a tie and all but she made it looser and looser until she just took it off and shoved it in her pocket before y’all left because it was annoying the shit out of her

“oh my you look so dapper,” you complimented, fighting back laughs from your choice of wording.

you watched as she smoothed down the blazer, shocked that she even had that in her closet. it was weird seeing her dressed like that and you couldn’t help but try to not look. it would be a bad night if she caught you peeking because yeah, you know she’s fine, but do you want her knowing that? to use that against you as leverage? hell. no.

gwen let out a laugh as she striked a pose, hands on her hips moving the sides of the blazer behind her to show off black waistcoat top. “really? you flatter me. aren’t you the bees knees yourself, babe.”

you cringed. hard.

her attempt at 1940 slang was where you drew the line and her shit eating grin didn’t help.

“gwen… dare i say gwendolyn again.”

she smirked. “yes, sugar lips?”

“i hate you.”

gwen was clearly feeling herself

you were too

and trust there was a photoshoot. and trust that it was gwen’s idea even if it was mostly her taking photos of you and her hyping you up crazy

“you’re gonna be the prettiest there babe. nobody can top my girl! not even barbie-”

“don’t be corny with me please…”

you guys decided to watch oppenheimer first and then end on a happy note with barbie

throughout oppenheimer you could see… even FEEL gwen’s eyes staring at the side of your head

she was just making sure you at least enjoyed the movie because it would break her soul if she forced you to watch something you didn’t like

you guys ended up loving it, especially the bomb scene

then you guys watched barbie…

it was a lot of laughing but the moment the movie started taking its turn bro gwen was fighting tears

and at the end of it? BALLING HER EYES OUT

if you are crying you both are just looking at each other in utter shock at the movie but also doing a really poor job at hugging each other

if you aren’t crying your eyes out with her you are comforting her while kinda laughing at her because she thought it was just gonna be some pink glam movie

it wasn’t.

“t-the message… this is so embarrassing i can’t stop crying what the fuck,” she cried into her palms which made her sound really funny as it was muffled by her skin.

you just held her close and you guys talked about the movies

especially like talking about the symbolism in barbie and how it touched on women suffering from the system and standards they are forced to live up to like it really hit gwen especially because the hate she got for how she acted in astv and how nobody was coming at the males that did the same or even worse than her

she sends you tiktok edits of gloria x barbie and says “us❤️”

overall, it was a 10/10 experience y’all went out to eat after in your cute outfits n all

— MILES

you asked him and miles was down IMMEDIATELY

he was another that thought oppenheimer looked good but he didn’t really mention going to the movie with you and the same thing for barbie

miles just thought they was both cool lookin

so you asked him.

“miles, baby, i have a very important question to ask you… one that may very well determine the outcome of this relationship.”

you spoke stern and serious, and almost vague.

"yeah, what's up? something wrong?" miles asks, slightly concerned, running his fingers through his curls and looking up at you.

“will you watch the barbie movie with me?” you pleaded with your hands, “pleaseee!”

miles eyes go wide, a smile spreading across his face.

"yes! i'm so down! i'll even be your ken if you wanna be my barbie. you know i'm a sucker for anything barbie."

you laughed, moving over to sit in his lap. he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer. “my ken, huh? i like the idea of that.”

“i mean, what else would i be? i’m here to serve you,” he spoke with a slight blush painted on his cheeks. you giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“we should do those matching couple outfits for barbie,” you suggested, “wouldn’t we look so cute?”

"matching outfits?" he asks thoughtfully. "y’know what, i think i know the perfect idea for our couple's look, babe."

miles had this glow to him as you literally saw a light bulb go off in his head.

“oh really, you have an idea?” you questioned, furrowing your brows at the speed of whatever little brain storm was going on in his head. “is it boricua barbie? because not gonna lie, i’d love to see you in a dress.”

"hmm, you wanna see me in a pink, ruffly dress?" miles teases you, smiling at the idea. "why didn't you tell me you were into cute boys in feminine outfits sooner, babe? cus’ i’d dress up for you whenever you want."

“you play too much,” choked out through the giggles as you shoved his shoulder. "hey now, i look amazing in a dress," he laughs. "but i do have an idea that includes both matching barbie costumes and me being your ken, if you're up for it."

miles smiles sweetly at you, his expression turning a little mischievous. “if you have an idea, please do tell,” you said in a sultry voice.

"i want to do what barbie and ken did in that one movie, where ken turns out to actually have superpowers too," miles explains excitedly. "but instead of us being the same superhero, like we both have super strength or super speed, we could be superheroes who complement each other."

you laughed im disbelief. ‘no way’ you thought, knowing exactly what he was thinking of.

he takes your hand, placing the other one on your cheeks and staring deeply into your eyes as he smiles at you. "what do you think?" miles whispers, leaning down toward you.

“you wanna be barbie and ken… from barbie princess power,” you recited slowly, a grin stretching across your face. “of course the one who is a superhero vigilante says this.”

miles' smile widens. "yes, princess power! that's exactly what i was talkin’ about," he says. "and come on, don't underestimate the barbie movies. most of them are really good, dare i say cinematic masterpieces!”

you mouthed an ‘okay’ as you rolled your eyes.

"if i'm your ken, you have to be my barbie," he says, moving his hands onto your waist and moving you up his lap. "the most iconic couple in the barbie universe, right here."

y’all outfits looked so funny but cute… like in a diy that didn’t go wrong typa way

and if you think for a minute mamita rio let y’all go without them facebook mom photos you’re sadly mistaken

"sonríe pa la foto!" rio yelled as the flash coming from her phone was almost blinding.

“mami, por favor-”

miles begging was not gonna get him anywhere with his mom.

“dios mío, you both look so cute,” rio gushed.

“señora morales…you’re too kind!”

miles dad gave you both the typical “y’all better not get into no trouble” parent speech and then you both was off

when i say he was fangirling over the barbie themed cups and popcorn… i mean it

he was taking photos of everything

the whole movie his mouth was wide open in awe

miles was actually so furious at ken he looked absolutely lost and physically upset watching that white piece of plastic run a muck in barbieland

“HE TALKIN’ TO BARBIE LIKE THAT??”

yes, he cried at the end… and at the middle… and a little at the start

at first he was just amazed with the cinematography

but then when they got to the real world? just seeing through the movies lens and it’s take on how modern society treats women based on the parallel barbie world like he felt so unreal

at the end, he was acting like those guys on tiktok that was treating the women in they lives like absolute QUEENS walking out the theater because of the perspective they got watching the movie

not that he didn’t treat you like that before, don’t get him wrong, it’s just that he felt the need like a bunch of other guys after watching the movie to apologizes for the system men have created

it was a little funny, especially because it has nothing to do with him and men doing this type of stuff is a little corny coming from the privilege of the gender, but you appreciated it nonetheless

if you cried during the movie tho? he is bear hugging you crazy and not letting go even after the barbie world credits end

you guys leave the theater holding hands and talking about the film and he is geeking out over all the symbolism and stuff this man watches titanic you know he’s a secret film bro

“i’m so sorry mi amor, that us men have failed our women-”

and there miles went, on a nonstop rant about how you are his queen and how much he loves the women in his life.

you ended up sleeping over at his place

with the door open of course… you know rio is watching.

he had so much fun with you tonight and you could tell by the way he slept with a big smile displayed on his face.

— PAVITR

you asked him and he was happily accepting before you even got the question fully out.

“pav!” you called out from behind him, pulling him in from the neck for a hug. “hey, i wanna ask you something. do you wanna-”

“yes.”

“wait… what? pav i didn’t even say anything yet? what if i’m about to say something completely criminal?” you asked in a teasing tone.

“hehe, yeah maybe i’m a little too excited to see you. what is it, love?”

his eyes looked at you so bright and full of love, it was almost distracting.

“can we go see the barbie movie? we can even wear all pink and match…”

you were gonna say more, but you didn’t have to.

pav was immediately saying yes to everything

until the fear sunk in…

"wait, but I don't have anything pink to wear!" pavitr exclaimed, sounding slightly distressed. "does that mean you won't go with me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and giving you a teasing smile.

he knows you’d never do such a thing.

"you know, i don't usually dress in pink, but for you i'll make an exception!"

you suggested you both go shopping like a little couples date

it was chaotic to say the least… but just as fun !!

he was acting like a model with everything he put on and it got even worse when you let him look at the stuff you were putting on

absolutely whipped.

“my girlfriend is gorgeous! absolutely gorgeous!”

you thanked him again, and again, and again.

“pav, do you think you are india’s next top model? because you are not gaytari,” you teased for him not finding an outfit yet, landing a peck on his cheek as he giggled in response.

"i'II look my best for the movie," he added with a wink. "are you sure you can handle all this style?"

all you could do was roll your eyes.

y’all were almost late to the movie because of bro

but you weren’t.

for the movie he was similar to miles and just in awe

in the beginning he was rooting for ken because he thought he was just being a good service boyfriend

you can imagine pavitr heartbreak when he started talking about the patriarchy

“no, wait- KEN WHAT ARE YOU DOING I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU!”

man is anger sobbing

words cannot describe the physical anger he feels seeing ken talk to barbie in such a manner he was stunned at the switch up

he also loved all of ruth’s parts, thinks she carried the whole movie

was physically leaning backwards at the sad scenes just taking it all in

pavitr LOVED the movie

came out the theater a changed man.

“my amazing, sweetest, most caring girlfriend…the prettiest of all mumbattan,” he spoke as he got down on one leg.

‘oh boy’ you thought, preparing yourself.

“i promise you, i would never ever treat you like how ken did barbie. you are a breathtaking woman and deserve the world-”

there goes another speech.

he walked you home like a true gentleman he smoking that ken pack and y’all talked about your favorite parts

pavitr overall had a really good time with you and enjoyed the message of the movie

— HOBIE

hobie is not and i repeat NOT watching that atomic bomb glorification story

but a movie about the patriarchy and double standard against women that hurts both genders based on the system men built through a satire film that is actually very political and has a message? yeah he’s going

when you told him tho not gonna lie he was gonna clown you

“barbie? like that lil white girl… you sure you wanna go watch that, luv?”

once you told him about the plot and showed him the trailer bro was READY to go

the set up of barbie world being a parallel to modern society was music to his ears

“really? i didn’t really expect allat comin’ from that bird. ight then, i’ll go. now i'm kinda curious.”

yes, he dresses up with you.

hobie is a punk icon… you know gender does not define him and he doesn’t care about breaking the “rules” of fashion of bit

so what does he dress as?

erika from rock n royals barbie.

guitar included.

you? well it’s a couple costume YOU'RE GONNA BE HIS COURTNEY

it’s not like you guys wore an exact replica of the outfits it was just heavily inspired fits

y’all looked cute as hell tho trust

“hobie, i can feel you staring,” you told him as you fixed up your makeup in your mirror.

it was true, you could feel him staring at you. heavy.

you looked to the side of your mirror and indeed saw him eyeing your figure with a soft smirk as he leaned against your bed frame. “what, not allowed to look at my girl now? since when?”

he was teasing and he knew it was making you flustered just by how your face was heating up.

his outfit isn’t too far out of bounds of what we would normally wear, but you couldn’t lie and say that the new colors didn’t fit him. the purple and the blue accents of his outfit, the leather jacket, the black eyeshadow with glitter that he surprisingly let you do, just everything about him looked so good.

hobie walked up behind you and put his hands on your hips, guiding your body closer to his as he watched your hands freeze applying your lip liner.

“don’t stop cus’ of me,” he spoke sheepishly.

you continued and shortly after finished up. his eyes still stared silently at you, admiring your beauty. “looking again, hobie? y’know i hope you pay attention to this movie…”

“i am,” he admitted with no shame, “you’re the prettiest gal i’ve seen. not gonna deny that.”

he pressed a slow, open mouth kiss on your shoulder as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. his breath was warm against your chilled skin.

“shall we get goin’ now?”

he payed attention to the movie but he couldn’t help wrapping a arm around your shoulder and making little comments in your ear

hobie got quiet tho towards the middle because he genuinely got invested once her feet turned flat and barbie met the ceo

but once the movie started getting deep… BOYY the look on this mans face he was stunned, appalled, baffled, gobsmacked even at ken

and then the speech about women? lawd.

he didn’t cry at all during the final sequence and if anything i think he was confused…

“wait that’s the lady from before that was makin tea, innit?”

“yes hobie.”

“holdup, where the granny go? what’s with the white void?”

“HOBIE-”

don’t get it twisted tho he understood the film and thought it was beautifully done

y’all talked about all the topics afterwards and let’s just say bro hates kens and is angry that nobody told them shit

“are they mad? they must be cus’ no way after everything that happened they just gon forgive the man for being a raging misogynist… they had the girls wearing maid costumes and not one apology was heard man that’s insane!”

hobie smoking that ken pack

he enjoyed the movie but what made him enjoy it was doing it with you <33

— MIGUEL

you know you had to ask him.

bro was not considering anything that would take him away from his work or distract him because he feels he doesn’t have time for that

and the crazy thing is that miguel knows about the hype about the movie and the whole barbie core pink mania

but of course he gonna act like he don’t and got better things to do.

“do you wanna see the barbie movie with me?”

those the words that stopped the gears turning in his head.

“excuse me?” miguel asked, looking up from his report with furrowed brows as his forehead already began to crease.

you wanted to dwell on the fact that he is getting annoyed before you even got to explain yourself, but you pushed it to the back of your mind. no, you couldn’t let him get push you away this time.

“you heard me, miguel. c’mon, the movie with margot robbie! and did i mention barbie? one of the most popular dolls? don’t act stupid,” you told him, walking over and wrapping your arms around his neck to hug him close from behind as he sat. “you don’t think it would be fun?”

he pinches the bridge of his nose, knowing what you’re about to get him into.

“mi vida…” you hear him sigh, quietly in almost a cut-it-out type of tone. he moves his head to the side and you can practically feel the confusion behind the glare. “you’re joking.”

you move one of your hands to your heart. “miguel!” you gasped playful, “this is a serious matter. why would i even joke about watching a movie with you?”

“because there's no way you're being serious. you don't go looking for me to see a barbie movie. especially one you know i'll refuse,” he replies, his voice stern.

“but-”

"Is this some sort of elaborate humiliation attempt?"

“NO!”

"... you're serious, aren't you? what's in it for me? i mean, it's a barbie movie."

you explain to him the premise and he still acts like this whole thing is stupid and you have no business trying to see this movie with him

but he can’t lie, he’s intrigued.

he kinda wants to see it.

and he’s trying his best to hide it.

"okay… what time?" he asked, defeated.

“really, my begging actually worked? thank god because i already brought two tickets and it would’ve been sad showing up alone,” you confessed.

“you bought them? already?” he repeated, caught off guard by how ready you were. “and what time are they for?"

“7:30.”

“fine, fine. but i'm holding you to your word. If it turns out this is some kind of elaborate scheme, you'll be hearing about it."

he’s so suspicious for no reason

now when it came to outfits… yeah you know miguel owns no pink whatsoever

you didn’t even know he knew about the pink craze or even wanted to play into it until he let it slip

"what am i supposed to wear then? i don't own anything pink.”

“it’s fine we’ll go shoppin- wait who said anything about pink outfits to you?”

you started making fun of him but then he threatened to take back saying he was going with you and told you that you’d be sitting in a theater all by yourself

but then you brought up again how he was ready to wear pink for you and he had a little slip up

"n-no? i mean, I could… if i’m gonna go see this thing with you and it your way, might as well commit right?”

his facade was slipping, this was golden. “so you will wear pink?”

the mischievous look on your face made him annoyed but he knew what he was getting into.

“i said i could, not that i’m going to. don’t get your hopes up chiquita."

he did end up wearing pink

little said he know you were plotting something against him

it started off nice… simple.

it was white pants with a pink button up

you told him for a “pop of color” he should wear a green blazer

sound familiar? because you were planning a scheme YOU DRESSED HIM AS SUGAR DADDY KEN

it was for shits and giggles

he had no idea until it was all paid for and safe to tell him before miguel made you fix his outfit

he’s ore than a little surprised, and not really sure how to react. miguel takes a look at the outfit, and does his best to try and hold back a chuckle.

"this... is a joke. there's no way you're serious about me wearing this, is there?”

“put. it. on.”

he does a low sighs and take the outfit from you. "fine, only because it's you."

it didn’t take him long to finish in the changing room, and when he stepped out you were enchanted by the sight.

“happy?”

yes. indeed you were very happy.

he was paying for everything of course like the sugar daddy he doesn’t know he is

he had his arms crossed, sat down legs spread, watching you change into different pink outfits and rating telling you how he thought you looked

you’d do little spins for miguel

“muy bella.” “you look gorgeous.” “i like that one, fits you nicely.”

you ended up leaving and going to the movie and while on your way there decided to tell him about his little outfit.

“you wanna know a secret, miggy?” you ask him with a grin.

he raises a brown at you, “i feel like you're gonna tell me regardless, so i'm gonna say yes.”

you say nothing, you just pull up a photo of sugar daddy ken and show it to him.

as his eyes flicker to the screen, you see the light amusement fade away from his expression as it turns to one of genuine confusion and horror. miguel’s hand moves subconsciously to the green blazer, as the fear sets in that he recognizes exactly what the outfit is referring to. “you didn’t…”

“but i did.”

“you. you are a bad person.”

truth be told, he really liked the movie

miguel just really liked the message like it made it him think of all the women that were and are in his life like you and all the other girls he’s wronged before you iykyk

but it also made him sad because it reminded him of gabriella

just thinking about all the muñequitas she use to play with before it happens

all the dress up games they use to play, when he pretended to be whatever doll he picked for her to play pretend scenarios with her dream house

it also made him sad to think of the strong, independent woman she wouldn’t become if it wasn’t for him

he didn’t tear up, no not at all.

but by the empty look on his face you could tell just how he was feeling

you put a hand over his as the audience laughed at the screen. “miguel, you okay? you know we can leave if that’s what you want.”

he just turned, put his hand over yours and gave it a squeeze. “no, no… i’m fine. don't worry.”

you guys had a good time and you swore you could see a small smile stretch across his face during some moments

he genuinely wanted to talk about the movie with you for hours but the man does have to sleep at some point

“hey, i just wanted to thank you for uh… convincing me to see a barbie movie. yeah, it sounded ridiculous and thought you were trying to find some way to mess with me for my attention. but, i really did enjoy spending time with you. just felt compelled to tell you that is all.”

miguel holds his heavy responsibility of the universe on his shoulders and is filled with grief

he doesn’t do this with the intent to tell people how to live their lives, but to try and protect what he couldn’t

so yeah, he’s glad you could give him some relief from the day

A/N: hey guys… i feel it’s been a minute but this took so long and it’s my first time writing for all of them beside gwen so im scared it’s gonna sound like shit so ??? i hope y’all enjoyed tho 🫶 BARBIE WAS SO GOOD

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worksby-d · 7 months

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Wrong Donut

Pairing: Andy Barber x pregnant!Reader

Summary: You can't get your favorite donut with your coffee, so Andy lets you cry to him about it over the phone 😖 (Idea from a lovely anon).

Warnings: None. Just soft and silly 🤭

Word count: ~800

∘◦❀◦∘

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

You roll your eyes at yourself. Repeating the words in your head only makes it worse really.

Pulling up to the drive thru window, you’re thankful you have your sunglasses on so the teenager working doesn’t have to see that he inadvertently ruined a pregnant woman's day by telling you that they’re out of your favorite donut.

The short drive back to work is spent blinking tears away so you can see. You think–hope–it does the trick to ward them off completely.

It feels like you’re in the clear until you sit down at your desk to drink your coffee and, reluctantly, the donut the guy recommended to you instead of your usual. You only said yes to it because any more words out of your mouth would have given away the sob you were holding back.

You break down when you open the paper bag and catch a glimpse of it. Not the same.

“Fuck,” you curse at yourself for being so upset, pushing the bag away.

Wiping some tears off your cheeks with your sweater, you grab your phone and fast walk down the hall to a restroom so no one can see you.

The only way you know how to cope lately is calling Andy and hoping he has time to let you vent. The poor guy. You suspect one of these days he’ll just stop taking your calls, but you hope it's not today.

It takes a few deep breaths before you can get yourself to dial his number.

On his end, he sees his phone light up and he knows the drill since you're only voice calling and not video calling like you usually prefer with him.

“Hi, honey,” he answers carefully, bracing himself.

“Hi,” you answer back, ready to lose it again from just hearing his voice.

He can hear the frown on your face.

“What's wrong?”

“I got the wrong donut,” you sniffle.

That's a new one, he thinks to himself. “What?”

“I went to get my coffee and donut, but I had to go during lunch because I was running late this morning,” you recount. Tears fill your eyes again. “But because it was later in the day and they were busy, they didn't have the donut I wanted. I had to get a different one. And it's just not... right.”

He tries his best not to laugh, he really does.

“I'm sorry that happened.” You can hear the tinge of amusement in his voice, but he's also being genuine. “It’s just a donut though, baby…”

“I know,” you sob – Loud enough for him to hold his phone away from his ear for a second. “I think that's why I'm crying. I know it's stupid.”

He can't help but laugh now. “It's not stupid,” he assures. “You’re just emotional.”

He just listens to the residual crying on your end until it sounds like you're ready to talk again.

“Where are you, by the way?”

“Hiding in the bathroom.”

He smiles hearing you laugh a little.

“Did you eat?” He asks. Stupid question. He bites his lip. “I know it wasn't the you-know-what that you wanted, but you have to eat.”

You roll your eyes at the way he censors the word.

“Not yet…” You sigh, fixing your smudged makeup while you finish talking to him. Or maybe not. “Will you stay on the phone with me? Distract me while I do?”

He can't say no to you. “Of course.”

∘◦❀◦∘

When you get home from work a couple hours later, you’ve forgotten all about your mid-day crisis. It was just like all of the other minute things that have made you cry over the past couple weeks.

You don’t question that you got home before Andy. Every evening is a little different depending on how busy each of you are. Besides, you probably did hold him up by crying to him during your lunch break anyway. So you just go ahead and get everything out that you need for dinner while you wait for him.

Hearing the door open, you call out to let him know you’re in the kitchen.

“Hi,” you beam at him.

He’s relieved to see you smiling as he crosses the room to give you a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. “Hey, sweetie.”

Your eyes become focused on a paper bag in his hand though, giving him a look when he sets it on the counter in front of you.

“What’s that?”

“For you,” he winks.

You’re skeptical, grabbing the bag and opening it slowly. You let out a short laugh catching sight of the donut that you wanted so badly earlier.

“My donut?” You pout, looking back at him. “You found one?”

“Oh God, don’t cry,” he chuckles seeing the look in your eyes and pulls you into his arms. “That was supposed to do the opposite.”

“I can’t help it,” you sniffle, closing your eyes and pressing your face into his neck to keep yourself from crying. “Thanks.”

“It was a fresh batch. I'll go back and buy them all for you...”

He says it like he's joking, but you don't think he is. That's exactly something he would do for you.

“No, it's okay,” you laugh, holding your arms around him tighter as if to keep him from doing so. “Don't want anyone else going through what I did.”

∘◦❀◦∘

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#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber fanfic #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfic #andy barber imagine #requested #a great mentor series

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lainiespicewrites · 8 months

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Coach Syverson

Okay, Y'all I'm trying something new and posting one of my Henry Cavill Character fics. I haven't posted a fanfic in so long it's gonna be a short story probably only a two-parter maybe 3. Let me know what you think! I loved writing this. I think it's so cute!!!!

Warnings: None for Part 1 :) Definitely will be smut in part 2!

High school football coach Sy and school guidance counselor OFC

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I was locked in a trance, typing in progress notes from an early morning meeting I’d just finished with a student. The sounds of the office, which was just coming to life outside my door, fuelled me. I almost never came in this early. But, one of my seniors was having a crisis and this was the only time we could work into her busy schedule. It’s gonna break my heart when that girl graduates this year. I get so attached to the students. I can’t help working as a school counselor. It's hard not to.

“You’re in early,” The voice coming from the doorway made me jump. He chuckled softly. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” After a brief heart attack, I finally looked up. I smiled when my eyes met his.

“No, it’s okay, I just didn’t see you! Good morning Coach, What can I do for you?” His soft blue eyes held my gaze, before shooting me a gentle smile. Coach Syverson and I had become good friends since he started working at the school a little over a year ago. Like many good high school football coaches, they made a history teaching spot for him. Unlike others, he’s actually a great teacher!

I met Logan Syverson for the first time in a staff meeting. Our principal introduced him at the beginning of the meeting going on and on about all the improvements he would bring to our team and our community. He certainly looked like a football player. The guy was huge! Tall, large muscles, and a full beard. His eyes were a deep blue. He had a winning smile and a southern accent. The English department was drooling. I hated him immediately.

I figured he was just going to be a self absorbed prick like the last coach. who only cared about the popular students, peaked in high school, and got fired because he got a little too close to one of the cheerleaders. We were not at all sorry to see him go. Well, those of us with half a brain weren’t anyway. Some of the community and staff were more worried about the football program. But I digress.

I was even more annoyed with him when I caught him falling asleep during the same meeting 30 minutes later when we were discussing the budget for new textbooks. I’m not exactly sure what came over me but I kicked him under the table. He was immediately alert. I expected him to glare at me. Or maybe even smirk. But the look on his face could only be described as apologetic. He quickly caught up to me when we were leaving the meeting. “Some first impression I made, huh?” When I didn’t immediately respond he added. “I swear I’m not some asshole that doesn’t care about education, that’s not like me, just didn’t sleep much last night. I had to take my dog to the emergency vet, she broke her leg in the woods late in the evening and didn’t get back until late and…”

“Is she okay?” I asked quickly. He looked completely dumbfounded.

“Uhm what?” He asked, clearly confused. I smiled sympathetically. I did exactly what I told my students not to do and judged him too quickly and I felt like an ass about it.

“You’re dog, is she okay?” He smiled softly and nodded.

“Yeah, Yeah she is. They got her all wrapped up and in a cast, poor pup, but she’ll be alright.” There was a brief pause and then. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“The students know me as Miss Plummer, but it’s Alayna. And um.. Sorry I kicked you. I don’t know why I did that.” I smiled sheepishly.

“Alayna,” He repeated. And then chuckled and squeezed my shoulder “No need to apologize, I’m glad you did. That would’ve been embarrassing. Falling asleep in my first staff meeting doesn’t really look good. Thanks for saving my ass back there!”

We were fast friends from that point on!

Sy pushed off the door frame he’d been leaning against and walked into my office. “Brought ya coffee, I was gonna sneak in and leave it on your desk but I guess it’s you surprising me this morning,” He said, setting the cup from our local coffee shop down on my desk.

“That’s sweet of you!” I took a sip and almost choked. I expected just plain black coffee. He wasn’t the kind of guy to order fancy coffee. But this was actually my coffee order. “How did you know my coffee order?” He had a big grin on his face now.

“I remembered it from that morning when we ran into each other in line a few weeks ago. Thought I’d be nice and bring my work wife some coffee since I was there.” He shrugged. He really was such a sweetheart. He looked tough and scary. I know he did. When he and a few of the other teachers in the history hall gathered between classes they looked intimidating. At least from a student's perspective.I knew them all well though. I’ve talked with students failing his class because they wouldn’t ask questions. When I asked why, they said they were nervous. But he was certainly no one to be afraid of. Yes, he could yell, but he saved that for the football field. The man was a damn teddy bear.

“Thank you!” I smiled. I quickly looked out into the guidance office to make sure there were no students around. “But I know you didn’t walk all the way down here just to bring me coffee for the hell of it. You’re buttering me up for something. What do you need, Logan?” He laughed and shook his head plopping down on the edge of my desk.

“You know me too well, sugar. Two things!” He said. I rolled my eyes. “Hey now young lady, don’t get an attitude with me I’m not asking you to give up a kidney!” I hid my smirk behind a sip of coffee and nodded at him to continue. “First, Can you look up Ty’s grades for me just at some point by the end of the day. He came into my office this morning and was all nervous about his algebra grade, swearing up and down it’s because he failed one quiz. But, I’m pretty sure,” I cut him off.

“He’s not turning in his homework because he just started dating Caitlyn and they’ve been staying up texting all night.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, Yeah, How’d you know?”

“Caitlyn stopped in to see me this morning and we had a chat about it, amongst other things. I’ll double check but I’m sure you’re right. I’ll email it to you so you can have a chat with him. I was going to call him in today but he listens better to you. When you talked about being a veteran and your time in Iraq at the Labor Day assembly, I think that really struck something with him. He looks up to you.” his eyes locked with mine and he smiled softly placing his hand over mine on the desk just for a second.

“Thank you for saying that,” He said before moving his hand and leaning on the desk again. I just smiled.

“What’s the other thing?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because you could’ve just sent me that in an email.” He smirked. And his nose crinkled a little. Oh no.

“So our first away game is tomorrow night,”

“I know,”

“And you’re a big football fan, and you love those boys don’t you?” He was deflecting

“What do you want, Sy?” I asked again. He let out a long breath.

“Carol was supposed to be a student chaperone for the student fans buuuttt well, you heard her kid is really sick? I need you to come chaperone. Actually. I kinda already said you would.” He quickly stood up from my desk and backed up to the other side, like he was afraid I’d hit him.

I just leaned back in my chair and groaned,

“ugh Sy! What if I had plans?” I cocked an eyebrow at him. He chuckled

“You don’t!” I scoffed

“You don’t know that?” I retorted. He smirked

“Yeah, what big plans do you have for Friday night?” He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. I sighed.

“Okay I don’t! But I could’ve!” I argued. “Why, didn’t you ask one of the other guys? Like Nick or I don’t know Mike?” I asked.

“Nick’s an assistant coach, he’ll already be there. And we both know as much as Mike loves teaching…he does not want to spend his Friday night with the kids and at a football game making sure there’s no funny business. And you love the kids.” He was pleading now. Practically giving me puppy dog eyes. “And…Maybe I want you there,” He winked playfully. I looked down and jiggled the mouse on my computer to hide my blush.

Jessica, who works the front desk of the guidance office swears he flirts with me. But I know he’s not. We’re friends. Good friends. We tease each other to make work a little more fun at best. But that's all it is. A man like Logan Syverson would never look twice at a girl like me. He’s fit and strong and tall and handsome. I’m pretty but I’m short and round and a little too quirky for my own good. Girls like me only get men like him in the movies. And I’m not stupid enough to believe otherwise. Moment’s like these though. I do wonder a little. But I don’t let my thoughts wander too far.

“Oh yeah?” I joke, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I mean maybe you’re our good luck charm. You’ve been at all our home games this year and we haven’t lost a game.” He said with a cheeky smile.

“We’ve only had two Sy.” I say matter of fact. He just shakes his head.

“That doesn’t mean you’re not good luck, but okay,” He held his hands up in defeat. “If you don’t want to do it I’ll figure something out. I messed up and didn’t ask you first. I’ll tell the boys their favorite guidance counselor doesn’t want to come support them. It’ll break their little hearts sugar but I’m sure they’ll find,” He pauses and lets out an exaggerated sigh “Some way to pull through and play a good game of football.” He frowned, shaking his head. I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows looking straight at him.

“Are you done?” I deadpanned. He snickered softly and nodded. “Fine, I’ll go,” He smiled and walked over squeezing my shoulder.

“You’re the best! It’s supposed to be chilly! Wear a sweater! And Free coffee,on me all night! I promise,” I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” I chuckled.

“Seriously, I owe you sugar! I’m happy you’ll be there, I better get goin, class starts soon and I probably shouldn’t be late being that I’m the teacher,” He chuckled.

“Get out of my office Logan!” I laughed. He smiled.

“You’re the best!” He said one more time before finally walking out of my office. I shook my head and tapped at the keys on my keyboard to wake up my computer. I felt eyes on me and looked up to find Jessica standing in my doorway.

“Don’t start!” I warned her.

“Please, sugar. I really want you there!” she mocked. “He knows your coffee order, Alayna. How long are you going to ignore what’s right in front of you?” she asked exasperated.

“It’s not like that Jess, He was just being sweet because he needed the help.” I said.

“Like you wouldn’t have done it anyway. You were trying to play coy but we both know you would have done it anyway.” She laughed. I blushed. And threw an eraser at her.

“Get back to work!” She laughed.

“Whatever you say… Sugar!” I snorted and we both chuckled for a minute. “I mean it Alayna, He’ll be kinda busy during the game and yes you’ll be keeping an eye on the students but take the opportunity to flirt back, he likes you, I’m not wrong!” She turned and walked back to her desk before I had a chance to say anything. And before I could spend any more time thinking about it my email notifications went off pulling me back into my work.

The rest of my work day went by in a blur. I had meeting after meeting with students. My seniors were in panic mode, my juniors have early onset senioritis, and the freshman and sophomores came into vent about the daily woes of high school drama. Oh to be 16 again.

With a full schedule of meetings I barely had time to eat lunch even in my office. When my phone lit up with a group text from two of my girlfriends asking about our weekly Thursday night dinner. I was quick to respond.

(I’ll be there!) I sent the text, before packing up my desk for the evening. It had been a late night for me so it was just past 5. I didn’t bother going home first to change into something more casual. They were used to the office style by now. I felt my shoulders relax a little as I slipped into the booth next to skyler.

“Hey!” she said cheerfully, slowly pushing the glass of white wine they’d ordered for me closer.

“You know me so well!” I smiled at her.

“Long day?” Hayley asked from across the table, she picked up a tortilla chip and filled it with queso. I shrugged.

“Not long in the sense that it was rough, just busy,” Skyler nodded and took a sip for her wine glass.

“I feel that. I tried to get some school work done while the kids were down for a nap.” She runs an in-home daycare. She adores kids. But she’s also going back to school for a degree, Pediatric nursing. She’s a saint. I don’t know how she does it.

“I commend you babe. The school is asking me to take classes, they want someone to take on the position as school psychologist. They’ve been trying to nudge me toward it the past couple of weeks. It’d be a raise but, that on top of the current workload? I don’t wanna drown myself ya know?”

“I totally get it, it’s not easy! But you should think about it. You’ve talked about it before! At least consider it.” Skyler said.

“She’s got a point dude,” Hayley added. “Look at you guys moving up in the world while I’m stuck with an art block. If I can’t think of anything, my online shop isn’t gonna take off and I’ll be stuck at the factory forever!” She groaned and downed a quarter of her strawberry lemonade that was no doubt spiked. I looked sideways, meeting Skyler's eye. She was giving me the same look.

“You’re just getting started Hayley.” Skyler said.

“I know but if..”

“Ah, no buts!” I cut her off “We have to allow ourselves room for mistakes and error when we’re trying something new. You will get there. Give yourself the love you give your art! I don’t wanna hear anymore of that self deprecating bullshit from you! The people love their ghost fish!” I demanded, trying to hide a chuckle. She could be so stubborn! She was starting an online etsy shop for commissions and spreading the word through social media. She had all these fun ideas. She was a great artist. But of course it’s not an easy way to make money. And right now, things were slow. She would get there though! I know she would!

“Have I ever told you how annoying it is when you use your psychoanalysis shit on us?” she deadpanned.

“Everyday but I still do it anyway, and that’s why you love me!” She just laughed.

“Yeah okay buddy. Enough work talk, I lifted a bunch of heavy shit all day and I don’t wanna think about it. I just wanna eat my chips and queso and get drunk with my friends!” She said and scooped another chip through the queso. I laughed and held up my glass

“Cheers to that! Although we all know damn well it’s a Thursday night and we all have to get up early and we drove separately so drunk is relative but yes!” Skyler laughed and clinked her glass with mine.

“Let her have her moment. Cheers to drunk Thursday dinner!” she said.

“Fuck yeah!” Hayley added and added her glass in with ours. We all took a drink and it was quiet for only a second.

“So,” Skyler spoke immediately. “It’s been a week, what's new?”

“Nothing for me, just still considering the offer to go back to school. My job would pay for it. Love life is still dry and I’ve bought like 3 new spicy romance books on my kindle this week!” I said laughing.

“Fun!” Skyler smiled. “Hayley?” She asked and directed her attention across the table.

“I went to Target and spent an obscene amount of money on fall stuff. We have a fall party coming up at work that I volunteered to do face painting for, but that should be fun! Oh there’s this new movie that came out I want you guys to come see with me I was hoping maybe tomorrow night?” she said. I started to agree. But then remembered my conversation with Sy earlier.

“Oh tomorrow night? I can’t. I’m actually busy!” They both looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“Since when are you busy on a friday night?” Hayley asked. Here we go. This is gonna open a whole can of worms. If Jess was good at getting my hopes up about Sy, these two were going to have me down right delusional.

“There’s a football game. I like to support the team.” I said. Skyler snickered and a smirk spread across Hayley’s face.

“You like to support the coach you mean?” Skyler asked.

“That’s not true! I’ve always been a football fan!” I defended myself. Hayley chuckled

“Sure but since when do you go to away games? Isn’t it like 2 hours away?” She raised an eyebrow. I sighed.

“Coach stopped by the office this morning, one of the other teachers that was supposed to chaperone the roadies tomorrow canceled and since he and I are friends he volunteered me to do it. He buttered me up with free coffee this morning and practically begged me to go tomorrow and… I just can’t say no to him. Plus he said he really wants me to be there.” I swirled my wine glass and stared down at it. I knew the looks they were giving me. I heard skyler squeal.

“Shut up! He asked you to come because he wants to spend time with you! Watch, I bet next week he’ll ask you out!” She bounced in her seat.

“He does not! He’s going to be busy with the team! He’s not going to have time to talk to me or anything.” I said taking a big gulp of wine.

“Why else would he say he wants you there though. And clearly you want him to hang out with you. Or you want to hang out with him. Or you wouldn’t have given up your precious Friday night in!” Hayley smirked.

“Okay, so what if I do. He’s not into me like that. He’s just friendly. He’s southern, it's just how he is!” I said, trying to hold onto whatever sanity I had left.

“Really?” Skyler said. “Does he bring anyone else coffee? Ask if he can eat lunch in anyone else’s office?” Hayley but it

“Didn’t he get you a christmas gift last year?” she asked.

“He was my secret santa!” I stated. They both sighed.

“ I don’t know why you can’t see it but he likes you!” Skyler said. I started to object but Hayley cut me off.

“You don’t have to believe us. Just pay attention to how he acts around you tomorrow and the next couple of days. He's trying to make a move. And I know you have your little no coworkers rule,”

“Because if…”

“Ah, I don’t wanna hear it! He’s clearly trying to get your attention. And you work in a public high school it's not like everyone else isn’t hooking up.” She stated.

“She’s got a point, remember all the teachers when we were in school? And he’s not just trying to hook up. He’s playing the long game,” Skyler said. “All we’re saying is IF we’re right,”

“And we are,” Hayley added. Skyler gave her side eye but laughed.

“If he asks you out you should give him a chance. We’ve never met him but it’s clear he’s so into you. And he seems like a great guy. Don’t push him away because something COULD go wrong.” she said. At that point the waiter came up and we placed our order. I also ordered another glass of wine. But a wine buzz wasn’t enough to convince me they were right. Sy couldn’t like me. I wasn’t his type. But it didn’t matter. I will go tomorrow and have a good time watching the game and cheering on the boys and watching Sy in his element. And when it’s all said and done I’ll ride home with the student section and maybe catch the chance to say goodbye to my friend before we leave. And on Monday everything will be as it always has been. Sy and I are friends.

I repeat that to myself as I walk the hall toward the gym after school on Friday. I turned down the hall toward the locker rooms and found his office door open. Sy was leaning back in his desk chair watching the tape from a few weeks ago. He noticed me before I spoke. He paused the video and smiled.

“Hey you! To what do I owe the honor? You never venture down this way?”

“Just coming to double check the plan for tonight! We’re meeting back here at 5:15 and the bus leaves at 5:45?” I asked him. He nodded, running a hand over his beard.

“Yeah, but I was thinking, you got plans for dinner?” He asked and raised an eyebrow.

“Uh I was just gonna run home for dinner, why do you ask?” I leaned against the doorway and crossed my arms over my chest. I watched curiously as he chewed at his bottom lip for a moment.

“I was gonna grab a bite to eat in town before the game. I won’t have time to go all the way home. Do you wanna come with me?” He finally made eye contact with me again and gave me a soft smile.

“Oh um,” I hesitated for a second.

“I’ll buy,” He smirked. I rolled my eyes.

“You don’t have to do that, Sy,” I said softly. He stood up grabbing his keys off the desk.

“I know, I want to.” He smiled and brushed his shoulder against mine as he walked out the door. “Come on, I’ll drive.” I raised an eyebrow

“Driving me to dinner and you’re paying? Sy if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were flirting with me.” the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk and he stopped walking. He turned toward me and bit his lip trying to hold back a grin.

“Alayna,” He chuckled nervously, “I find it hard to believe after all this time…” He was cut off by a loud whistle down the hallway.

“Well ain’t that a cute couple!” a voice said in a horrible mock southern accent “Get it coach!” One of Sy’s boys called from just outside the weight room. Another one of the football players popped his head out the door to see what was going on and started making kissy sounds with his lips. Sy dropped his chin to his chest and shook his head but his shoulders shook when he chuckled, giving him away. He loved those boys he couldn’t be mad if he wanted to be.

“Tyler you’re already on thin ice don’t make me bench you tonight! You too Matt. Don’t think I forgot about the little stunt you pulled in the parking lot last week!” He gave them a stern look

“Sorry coach!” they said in unison

“It was funny though,” Matt mumbled. Sy shook his head

“Sure, You boys get out of here and get something to eat, I don’t need you passing out on me on the field tonight.” He held Matt’s gaze.

“It was one time!” He stressed.

“And it’s only gonna be one if I can help it. Go eat!” He barked. The boys immediately straightened up and nodded.

“Yes coach!” Logan just chuckled and we kept walking.

“They adore you,” I said. He smiled

“Nah, they just know I’m not kidding’” I laughed.

“Oh come on Sy, you aren’t that mean, or you wouldn’t care so much,” We walked out the back door to the teacher parking lot and headed to his truck. “Hey… what were you saying earlier,” He raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about sugar,” He smirked.

“Sure you don’t cowboy,” I rolled my eyes and hopped up into the truck after he unlocked it. He slid in next to me and started the engine.

“Where do you wanna eat?” He looked over at me and raised an eyebrow. I shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter to me, you’re buying,” I said flatly.

“Sugar,” He threw his arm over the back of the seat, his fingertips brushing my shoulder, as he backed out of the parking spot. He left it there as he pulled out on the road. “Don’t be shy with me, I know you love food darlin. I’ll drive all around town and we’ll starve until you tell me what you want.” I looked over at him just in time to make eye contact before his eyes shifted back toward the road. He shook his head and tried to hide his smirk.

“You are so dramatic,” I teased, trying to play it cool but I could feel a blush creeping up my cheeks.

“Oh, I’m dramatic? Weren’t you the one tearing up in her office because of a book you were readin?” He snickered. I reached over and playfully smacked him in the chest.

“Shut up!” I laughed. He held his hand to his chest feigning hurt.

“Ow!” He pouted.

“That did not hurt! I barely hit you!” he side eyed me still pouting but the corners of his mouth started to break into a smile

“Over here committing spousal abuse.” He shook his head. I laughed so hard I snorted.

“We’re not married Sy!”

“You’re my work wife, it's the same damn thing” He chuckled. “Seriously, where do you wanna eat, I’m starving.”

“My god Logan,” I laughed. “Um fine, I haven’t tried that new sushi and ramen place yet!” I said. He almost slammed on the break.

“You haven’t?! That place is right up your alley, all trendy and shit. It’s real good too!”

“You think I’m trendy?” I raised an eyebrow. He looked over for a moment and caught my eye giving me a gentle smile.

“I think you deserve to be taken out to nice places.” And here I was blushing again.

“Sy,” I started but my phone buzzed in my lap distracting me, I wasn’t really sure what to say anyway. It was a group chat with the girls asking me what time we leave tonight. They were going to have a field day with this. And instead of just replying I decided to start a fire. I tapped my screen to open my camera and held it up to take a selfie “Smile, cowboy.” He chuckled.

“What are you doin over there, sugar?” He smirked but glanced over at the camera quickly so I could snap a quick photo.

“Lighting a match.” I smirked. He bit his lip and chuckled softly.

“You’re something else,” He spoke as we pulled into the restaurant. I quickly sent the picture to the group chat and slid my phone into my purse.

Sy was right. This place was incredible. And very trendy.

“God I can’t get over how good this place is!” I said for like the 4th time. Logan smiled.

“I told ya, Darlin,” The waitress came and brought out our bill and I reached for my purse. “Hey, No, I told you, I’m paying.” He said pulling out his wallet and handing his card to the waitress.

“Thank you Sy, I appreciate it,” He grinned.

“Anytime, you deserve it,” I blushed, “ you’re really saving my ass tonight.” I forced a smile, so that’s what this is about. I told the girls this was all just because he needed something.

“It’s no big deal Logan.” I said. I pulled my phone out and checked my messages. There were like 10 from the group chat now.

“OMG YOU'RE WITH HIM?!”

“You didn’t tell us you were getting dinner with him.”

“UNLESS THEIR NOT GETTING DINNER ;)”

“What else would they be….oh”

“Alayna you better not be fucking the football coach right now.”

“Leave her alone Hayley she can fuck him if she wants to BUT IF YOU DO I WANT DETAILS”

“ALAYNAAAAA”

“GIRLLLL ANSWER USSSSS”

“Seriously dude you can’t just send us a picture of you with your hunky football coach man crush and just disappear.”

“OMG THEY’RE TOTALLY FUCKING”

I held back a smile and shook my head.

“It is a big deal,” He said and grabbed my hand across the table. “I’m glad you’re gonna be there tonight.” I smiled but pulled my hand back.

“Sure, because you needed another chaperone.” I joked. His eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head catching my eye.

“Yeah, but I wanted it to be you, I like hangin out with you. And you’re really fun to watch in the stands. I didn’t know you could be so…aggressive.” He smirked.

“I’m just really passionate about football!” I argued. “And how do you know you like hanging out with me? We've barely seen each other outside of work.” I questioned.

“Well we should change that,” he said.

“Won’t your girlfriend get jealous?” I asked. I knew a lot about him but he never mentioned any relationship. I’d be stupid to think he wasn’t seeing someone. He laughed. God I loved that sound.

“Don’t have one sugar,” He said with a mischievous grin on his face.

“How?” It was my turn to be confused.

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” He retorted quickly.

“I … because…” I stuttered, unable to come up with an answer.

“Haven’t found the right guy yet huh?” He pauses, “guess that’s where I’m at, she just ain’t found me yet.” He smiled. Right then the waitress came back with his card. “Thanks honey,” He said, giving her his signature smile. He signed the receipt and stood from the table. “We oughta get going. Don’t wanna be late for the game!”

Sy drove us back to the school and parked his truck next to my car. “Oh no!” I sighed.

“What's wrong?” He asked.

“I was going to grab a sweatshirt when I went home and,” I opened my car, turning on the light to look in the back seat. “I don’t have an extra in my car.” I pouted.

“Is that all?” He chuckled. He reached into the back seat of his truck and pulled out a black hoodie. “Here. I always have an extra in the truck you can wear mine. Don’t want you to catch a cold.” I took it from him tentatively.

“Sy, this is your coach sweatshirt.” I said.

“One of ‘em yeah.” He smiled.

“I…okay,” I just shook my head and pulled the hoodie on. He bit his lip.

“Looks good on ya,” He smirked.

“Shut up,” I rolled my eyes. Before we could continue to tease each other the buses pulled up. And I could see some of the students' cars pulling into the student lot “We’d better head over there!” I said quickly. Logan nodded.

“Yeah, we better get going.”

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littleblackraincloudofcourse · 7 months

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My thoughts on the lives and deaths of the House of Usher

Prospero - I almost feel sorry for Perry. His ideas weren't bad and unlike his siblings he was doing them himself. I also found it hilarious when he tried to fuck his brother wife. If nothing else that kid had confidence. Fredrick was dick to both of them anyway and she deserved to have fun. If you remove the blackmail and acid rain and that would have been one hell of a party.If Perry hadn't been planning to blackmail everyone he wouldn't have deserved his death. But his death was EXQUISITE. Everything about that scene was so perfect I can't find words to describe it. Everyone involved in creating that scene deserves an award

Camille - We actually got to know very little about her. Her whole story was about finding dirty on the others and managing crisis for the family. Even her death isn't shown. I think the point was that she never got to just be. She lived and died for others but never connected with anyone.

Napoleon - Leo was to me the closest to likable of any of the siblings. He clearly loved them and that may have been the only love he way capable of. He certainly didn't love his boyfriend or anyone he had/was having sex with. He treated people like objects. His death is tricky to categorize. On one side what he did to Pluto was horrifying and anyone who treats animals that way deserves the same fate. But he never actually did any of those things. It was all hallucinations and illusions first from drugs then Verna. He was stressed and grieving and kept finding dead animals everywhere. I would be ready to smash walls in that situation too. He definitely didn't need to be a pet owner but I think his death should have been less torturous

Victorine - I wrote this one last because it was my favorite Poe story growing up and she played it beautifully. That slow steady decent into madness I should have hated this character most of all. Those poor chimps and who knows what other innocent creatures she killed with experiments she knew wouldn't work. Even with her father constantly pushing for progress she should have stopped. Verna gave her so many chances, she wasn't even there when Vic killed her girlfriend or herself. She could have stopped at any point. Yes she still would have died but it could have been painless and less tragic. T'Nia Miller's performance was so good that I actually felt sad for her in that final scene. At least until I thought of the chimps again.

Tamerlane - Knock off Madeleine. Where her sisters hid and guarded their personalities she never had one. Her entire existence was for appearances (hence the ridiculous amount of mirrors). Even when she tries to show emotion she couldn't look at the person she was talking to. Her death might have seemed the most passive but it was shoot beautifully. It was also the only thing she actively accomplished on her own.

Fredrick - Fuck you Frodrick. When his siblings said he was just like their father they didn't even realize how right they were. He might have been worse. His poor wife deserved so much better. I genuinely enjoyed watching the pendulum swinging towards him as he was paralyzed beneath it. I only wish there was more than one so he could feel more pain. He was so much a piece of shit Verna enjoyed killing him. Everyone else got warnings, chances to walk away and have peaceful deaths But this asshole, she knew he didn't deserve one. He got exactly what he deserved. Lying in a puddle of his own piss waiting to die. Seriously fuck that guy

Lenore - This sweet brave girl was the only good the Ushers ever brought into the world. So pure and good even Verna mourned having to take her. I loved that she got to know how much good she put into the world and how many lives she saved. Even knowing from the beginning she would die, it was still heartbreaking to see. At least it was painless and instant

Madeleine - She was cold and selfish but she was also usually right. I respect that even when making a deal with the devil she still had standards. She at least made sure not to have children incase. There is a bit of irony in the fact she didn't want to spend her life serving a man then chaining her destiny to her brother. Gave of serious twincest vibes that I am glad where not explored. Her death seemed a fair balance for her past and mirroring her mother's death brought everything full circle. She fell with the house of Usher. Also sapphire is a good color for her.

Roderick - Without doubt the worst of them all. He knowingly killed millions with his drug. He destroyed any shred of humanity in his children. Possibly worst of all, he knew the damage he was causing and who would have to pay for it but he didn't even blink. Being mentally tortured by his dead children was not enough. He deserved the worst death of all. I understand the poetry of him dying the same way his father did but I wish he suffered more.

#the fall of the house of usher #tfothou spoilers #mike flanagan #edgar allan poe #when i said i was obsessed i wasn't exaggerating

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sidekick-hero · 4 months

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Love from the other side

(steddie | rated: M | wc: 6.2k | tags: Vampire Eddie Munson, Nurse Steve Harrington, Mild Gore, Blood Drinking | AO3)

"Steve, we've got a major crash on the Interstate. Multiple vehicles involved. You're on triage duty. Patients will be arriving in five minutes,” Robin, the head nurse in the ER, tells him in a calm voice. She's Steve's best friend, but even he's sometimes surprised at how calm Robin can be in critical situations. He's seen her fret over the prospect of asking out a girl she likes, and her freak-out before her first date with Nancy is now something of a legend between them.

But ask her to handle a crisis and she's cool as a cucumber.

Steve sighs and nods. That means it's going to be a long night. He's already been on for ten hours, two more and he could have gone home to his cat and his warm, soft bed. But they're understaffed as it is, and with so many new patients in unknown condition coming in, he'll be here for at least another five hours. Maybe more.

He makes his way to the triage area of the ER and braces himself for what's to come.

When he finally makes it home, the sun has already risen and he's dead on his feet.

He stumbles through the front door of his apartment and is greeted by Garfield, his tabby cat, who continues to weave through his legs as he takes off his shoes, almost tripping him. He meows pitifully at Steve.

"Yeah, yeah, you poor thing. You'r treated worse here than in a shelter. Warm and cozy and dry with a human to open your tins and feed you."

Garfield meows again, this time more demanding, emphasizing the urgency with which he wants food.

Throwing up his arms, Steve relents. "Fine. Heaven forbid I get to change into something comfortable first."

As soon as he places Garfield's bowl in front of him, Steve is all but forgotten as the cat digs in. "You're welcome," he says to his beloved little freeloader, not expecting a response. He's talking to a cat, after all, but it still helps make the apartment feel less empty.

And there's no one to judge him for it. Not since Robin moved in with Nancy and he had to find a one-bedroom apartment that he could actually afford on his own.

It's not that he begrudges them their happiness, far from it. But coming home to an empty apartment and talking to his cat instead of another human being got old pretty quickly. Worse than that.

It has become lonely.

"Pull yourself together, Steve, and stop whining," he chides himself, still talking out loud.

Steve sighs. He can see himself ending up a hermit with twenty cats who never leaves the house. Deciding it's best to just go to sleep before his thoughts turn any more self-pitying, he bends down to scratch Garfield's head and tells him, "I'm going to bed."

Garfield continues to ignore him as he sips the milk Steve has placed in front of him.

Steve is off for the next two days and spends the time mostly sleeping, doing laundry, and stocking up on food after realizing he didn't even have a slice of toast for breakfast.

He also goes over to Robin and Nance's for dinner, since he's not a hopeless hermit yet. Between the three of them, they go through three bottles of wine and end up swapping stories and inside jokes until his stomach hurts from laughing so hard.

It doesn't make coming back to an empty apartment any easier.

His next shift is another night shift, and it's surprisingly quiet for a Friday night. So far, the worst he has had to deal with is a nasty cut on a drunk frat boy's forehead after the guy fell through a glass door. Steve's still surprised he didn't hurt himself worse. Head wounds bleed like crazy, though, so he looked like he had been attacked by a serial killer when his equally drunk buddies carried him to the emergency room. Seeing that only one deep cut needed stitches, while the other, shallower cuts on his arms and face would be fine on their own, had put Steve in a surprisingly good mood.

So good, in fact, that he carelessly remarked to Carol, the other nurse on duty with him, "Looks like a quiet night for once."

You could have heard a needle drop in the silence that followed his statement, and Carol looked ready to murder him. He had just violated the most important rule in any hospital.

Never, under any circumstances, say the "Q" word.

"Fuck. Oh God, I didn't mean..."

"Too fucking late, Harrington." Carol huffed before stalking off, probably to complain about him to her boyfriend, who was also the hospital director's son.

Less than twenty minutes later, all hell broke loose.

A dance floor at a local club had collapsed, resulting in several dozen serious casualties, all arriving on stretchers, crowding the triage area as Steve worked on autopilot. Assess, prioritize, assist.

In the midst of the chaos, another ambulance arrives and he goes over to talk to the paramedics about taking the patient to St. John's instead because they are at capacity, which really means they were past capacity an hour ago.

One look at the patient tells him there is no time for that,

The man on the gurney was only a few years older than Steve and had a gaping wound on his neck. He was white as a sheet and there was too little blood around a wound that looks like it hit a major artery.

"What the fuck?" He can't help but ask and the paramedic shrugs with a puzzled look on his face.

"I don't know, man. Found him like this and whoever called it in left before we got there."

Rolling their new patient in with hurried steps, Steve wonders if there was anything they could do. The wound needed surgery, and they needed to get blood and other fluids into the man as quickly as possible. Judging by the slow and shallow breathing and the sluggish pulse, his system has already started to shut down.

They lost him before they even got to the operating room. Steve doesn't even hear about it until hours later, when everyone who had been on the dance floor has finally been taken care of and a bone-deep exhaustion replaces the adrenaline-fueled energy in his body. He's not proud of it, but he's too tired to spare the news more than a brief burst of sadness.

Over the next weeks, seven more patients with gaping neck wounds come into the ER while Steve’s on shift, all drained of too much blood to make it past the first ten minutes under their care.

Whispers about a killer roaming the streets of Hawkins have started circulating as the number of victims rises steadily and Steve has started to sleep with a baseball bat under his bed. Just in case.

It’s early Tuesday night, four hours into his twelve hours shift, when another one comes in, this time a young girl around Steve’s age with long strawberry blonde hair and a pretty face. On her neck Steve can make out a gaping wound, just like the others had shown.

But this one is bleeding, profusely.

And the girl is awake, looking up at Steve with wide, terrified eyes.

“Hey, you’re safe, it’s gonna be okay, we’re going to take care of you,” he reassures her over and over as they make their way inside, ushering her to get surgery immediately. When he gives her his warmest reassuring smile she even tries her best to smile back.

Steve hopes she makes it.

She does. Against all odds, considering that the last two dozen victims with similar injuries have all died, she makes it.

Her name is Chrissy Cunningham, and when Steve reads the name on her file, he remembers her. She was a year behind him, a cheerleader. They never really talked much, but he remembers that she was kind and talked to him after everyone else on the team and the cheerleading squad had stopped doing so.

He's glad that she survived, and he promises himself that he will check in on her as soon as his shift is over.

If it hadn't been Chrissy, if it hadn't been someone he knew, he probably never would have met Eddie.

At the end of one of those weird in-between shifts at four in the morning, Steve changes into a pair of sweatpants and his favorite hoodie before heading over to the observatory area where they had to put Chrissy for now because a whole wing of the building is under construction due to some asbestos in the walls. She's already in stable condition, only needing fluids and antibiotics because they have no idea what bit her, so they're letting her sleep it off for now and hopefully find a room to put her in the next day.

The halls of the hospital are quiet at this time of night, especially outside the ER, and it's almost eerie. It feels like no one is here but Steve and the thought makes him shiver. All this serial killer talk is really getting to him, he thinks.

Reaching the area separated only by screens, he sees a figure standing by her bed. He can't make out much, but it appears to be a man, judging by his height, and he's leaning over the bed, talking softly to Chrissy. The man, if it is one, but the deep timber of his voice makes Steve think it is, is not wearing scrubs, but jeans and a hoodie, and Steve is pretty sure he's not hospital staff.

Suddenly, he remembers that something - or someone - must have inflicted the injury on Chrissy's neck.

"Hey, who are you, and what are you doing here?" he shouts as he runs over to the bed, and the figure turns to face him.

It is a man, with wide, dark eyes in a pale face framed by equally dark, messy curls.

"Shit, shit, shit," the man curses and bolts, moving faster than should be humanly possible. One moment he's staring at Steve like a deer in the headlights with his big bambi eyes, the next his shoulder slams into Steve, knocking him to the ground as the mysterious figure disappears from view.

He pushes himself upright and rises from the ground with a determined effort, because even though the guy doesn't look like it, it feels like he's been hit by a brick wall. When he regains his footing, he shakes off the impact and makes his way over to Chrissy to check on her.

She's awake, but too weak to sit up, though she tries.

"Shh, hey, don't strain yourself Chrissy, it's all right, he's gone. You're safe," he reassures her, a hand on her shoulder to keep her from moving too much and aggravating her wound.

"No," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, shaking her head slightly. Just when he wants to reiterate that yes, he's really gone, she continues. "He's safe. He saved me."

"What?" Steve asks, taken aback by her statement. He can tell that even the few words she has spoken have taken a toll on her, draining what little strength she has regained, but he can't help it, he needs to know what she means.

"He...saved me. Pulled him...off. Off me. Would have...killed..." she trails off, her eyelids fluttering shut and Steve lets her be.

Pulling up a chair, he sits down next to her to keep watch, just in case her savior decides to come back.

The next day Chrissy is more lucid. She's also in her own room and has already given a statement to the police when Steve comes in for his shift.

It doesn't matter though, he still has to ask her what happened, needs to know who the strange man was who continued to haunt Steve's dreams after he came home sometime in the early morning.

"I don't know who he is, Steve. He just showed up while Jason...while he," she is visibly shaken by having to remember the events of last night and Steve thinks he should tell her that it's okay, she doesn't have to tell him. But he doesn't. It feels like she needs to say it as much as he needs to hear it.

Steeling herself and taking a deep breath, Chrissy continues, "While Jason was biting me. Mauled me, really. I think he would have torn my throat out if this man had not shown up. He slammed into Jason, ripped him off of me, and they both went down. There was a struggle, I could hear it, but everything hurt so much I couldn't move my head. It went on for a while, I don't know how long. Time was really weird. And then the guy was looking down at me, telling me to stay still, that he was going to call an ambulance, and that I just had to hang in there. He pressed something against my neck and it hurt so much, but the pain kept me there, y'know? So I wouldn't float away and never come back. He told me to stay with him and I did. Until we heard the ambulance. Then he told me he was sorry, but he had to go. And then he was gone and the paramedics took me away."

Chrissy looks very pale after telling her story, the dark rings under her eyes more pronounced than when he first entered the room. But before he can let her rest, he has one more question.

"What was he doing here?"

To Steve's surprise, the question makes Chrissy smile. "An apology, because this is no way for a lady to be left in the lurch."

Steve has no idea what to do with this information, so he just takes Chrissy's hand and squeezes it gently.

"You'll be out of here in no time, Chrissy. We will take good care of you, I promise."

"I know. Thanks, Steve."

He turns and walks away, leaving her to get back to sleep, knowing that it will be a long time before he will be able to do the same.

What the fuck is going on?

They find Jason Carver, or what is left of him, the next day. It's all over the news. No one knows why he attacked his girlfriend or who killed him. The reports leave out a lot of the gruesome details, just saying that he was torn to pieces when they found him.

Steve, of course, can't let that be all. He has to know what happened, so after his shift he sneaks down to the morgue to take a look at what is left of Jason, a guy he only knew in passing, since Steve had already left the school when Jason became captain of the basketball team, taking Steve's old position.

What he finds is a body that is badly mangled, just like the news said. There are deep wounds, chunks of flesh missing, his right arm torn from his shoulder. Though it's hard to swallow, it's not the first time Steve has seen a body destroyed almost beyond recognition. What makes him recoil from the dead man in front of him is the fact that Jason Carver's body is already decomposing as if he'd been dead for several days, maybe weeks, instead of not even 48 hours.

Steve leaves the morgue even more confused - and frightened - and heads home with the image of Jason's tattered, rotting body burned into his eyelids.

Over the next three weeks Steve sees four more victims with the same torn throats and bloodless bodies. None of them can be saved like they saved Chrissy.

He doesn’t see the mysterious man again.

It's late June when Steve's life changes forever.

The sun has only set an hour ago and the air is still warm as he walks home from his shift. Robin and Nance's car broke down the day before, and they live on the outskirts of town, so Steve gave them his car until theirs is fixed in a few days. The weather is nice and he doesn't mind walking the three miles to his apartment.

He's almost home, maybe ten minutes away, when he hears someone whistle.

There's a man standing at the entrance to an alley a few feet ahead of him, and since he's the only one around, Steve assumes it must be him whistling at Steve. The guy is hot, there is no way around it, about Steve's height with an athletic build and a haircut that reminds him of the 80's, his blond hair styled into a mullet.

"What's a pretty guy like you doing out here all alone?" The man asks as he gives Steve a slow look. It's supposed to be seductive, Steve thinks, but it just comes off as sleazy. Which is a shame, because the guy has a pretty face, long lashes, full lips, delicate features. Steve's also going through a bit of a dry spell lately, but he's not desperate enough to hook up with a slimy sleazeball like that.

"None of your business, really," he replies, walking a little faster than before. Something doesn't feel right, he thinks, feeling the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.

"Aww, don't be like that, sweet thing. I just wanna talk, I swear." Steve is almost past the guy when their eyes meet and he feels himself freeze. "Why don't you come closer so I can smell you better?"

Even as he thinks, "What the hell is wrong with this guy?" he feels his body turn toward him and his feet propel him forward. He feels himself panic, but it's a distant thing, like an itch under his skin that he can't reach no matter how hard he scratches.

When he's in front of the stranger, so close that their chests almost touch, the man leans in and sniffs Steve's neck like a dog at a slab of meat. He hums deep in his chest and Steve feels the wet touch of his tongue against his skin. It's enough of a shock that he can get his body to react, to fight back, but it's no use. The moment he moves, the man growls menacingly at him.

With his feet still rooted to the ground, Steve feels like he's underwater, his senses dulled and his limbs heavy, weighed down by the tons of water around him. He fights it with all his strength and it takes all he's got to put his hands on the man's chest and push him away.

It's not even close to a hard push, but the man clearly didn't expect Steve to fight back at all, so he stumbles back a bit anyway. Unfortunately for Steve, it only makes him angrier.

"Looks like you got some fight in you after all. Too bad I don't like my food to fight back," he snarls, and before Steve knows what's happening he feels his back slam into the wall behind him, darkness surrounding them on all sides.

He struggles against the hands holding him down, but it's no use, their grip steely and unyielding.

The once pretty face has turned into something twisted and ugly, a grotesque imitation of a human face, and when the thing in front of him opens its mouth, all Steve sees are teeth. Long, sharp teeth.

Steve screams, but not a sound comes out of its mouth.

As those teeth sink into his neck, the face of the man who saved Chrissy's life pops unbidden into his mind. Steve has seen it in his dreams more than once, and it's strangely comforting to think of it now, in what Steve is sure will be his last minutes alive. As if this is all a fucked up dream and Chrissy's mysterious savior will come for him, too.

White hot pain races through his body from where the thing that looked like a man sunk its teeth into him and it's only that pain that makes him believe what he sees next.

One moment he's in mind-numbing agony, almost wishing for death to come and end his suffering, and the next the oppressive weight of that thing is gone, its teeth no longer in Steve. With nothing holding him up, he crumples to the ground, his head dazed and his body shaking like a leaf.

To his right he hears the sounds of a viscous battle. Growls and snarls, flesh hitting flesh, flesh hitting brick, the sound of bones snapping. He's too weak to even turn his head, and part of him is glad for that.

The fight seems to go on forever and Steve feels himself slipping in and out of consciousness. His heart has stopped pounding and his pulse has slowed to about 60 beats per minute, which is good. Not too slow, his system is still going strong. It was cardiac arrest after immense blood loss that had killed the other victims, but so far that doesn't seem to be Steve's fate.

At least not if the wound on his neck that is still slowly bleeding is taken care of soon.

He doesn't dare press his undoubtedly dirty palm against it yet. Hell, he's not even sure if he can lift his hand that far. But something has to be done about the bleeding, sooner rather than later.

As if his savior had heard his thoughts, there is a final, stomach-churning sound of flesh and bone ripping, followed by silence, the fight finally over.

And then there he is, as if his mind had conjured him, the man who saved Chrissy. The man with the big brown doe eyes and the pale skin and the messy curls. There's blood on his face now, and... other things Steve doesn't want to think about.

Steve is safe now, he feels it deep in his soul. He doesn't know how he can know that, how he can trust a complete stranger to keep him safe, but he does. His eyelids flutter shut, the tension finally draining from him completely.

A cool hand on his cheek and a warm, deep voice, tinged with what sounds like fear, pull him back.

"Hey, no, no, no. Steve, you need to stay here with me, okay? Stay with me, sweetheart."

"You know my name," Steve mumbles, fighting the heavy rocks that weigh down his eyelids as he looks at the pretty face in front of him. His eyes dip lower and there's more blood on the man, his clothes torn and his skin exposed. "You're hurt."

"You're very observant, Stevie. Come on, we gotta get you to the hospital. You'll be as good as new in no time." He smiles at Steve and Steve is helpless not to smile back. There's the tease of a dimple forming in his cheek and Steve lifts his hand with Herculean effort to touch it. When the man notices the gesture, the dimple forms fully, deep and alluring. A cold hand catches his before it reaches its target and Steve whines in protest.

The man chuckles fondly. "Here, lemme help you," he says, bringing Steve's hand to his face, the dimple still waiting for Steve to touch it. The skin is soft under his hands and cold too, like it's a winter night and not the end of June.

"I'm gonna pick you up now, Stevie. It's faster than waiting for an ambulance. Just close your eyes and we'll be there before you know it."

Steve feels himself lifted from the ground into strong arms and instinctively turns his head into the man's chest, enjoying the vibration of his soft laughter at the gesture against his cheek.

Then they're moving, and fast. One second he wonders how someone covered in blood and other unspeakable things can smell so good, and the next the lights of the hospital burn bright and painful in his blurry eyes.

"He needs help, now," he hears the man say to someone, his voice firm and demanding. It makes Steve shiver in his arms. And then he's placed on a gurney and his savior leaves with the whisper of cold lips on Steve's forehead.

It's only much later, when he's recovered enough to form coherent thoughts, that Steve realizes two things.

He doesn't even know the name of the man who saved him.

He never heard a heartbeat as his head was pressed against the man's chest.

Steve is released two days later and Robin insists that he stay with her and Nancy for a while. There's really no arguing with his best friend when she's got something on her mind, so he doesn't even try. He's too tired anyway.

His sleep is shit, plagued by nightmares of sharp teeth and blood and bodies being torn to pieces.

He also dreams of the mysterious man, and while these dreams aren't nightmares, they're still confusing, even unsettling, because they leave him feeling hollow. Like he has lost something. Which is ridiculous, the man was never his, he doesn't even know his name.

As he spends the next week at Robin and Nancy's, being pampered and doted on, he has no idea how close he is to learning the name of his savior. That and much more.

After finally convincing his best friend that he can manage on his own, that he needs to go home, that Garfield misses him even with Robin or Nancy stopping by to feed him, it is both daunting and a relief to see Robin's car drive away from where he stands in front of his apartment building.

The nightmares haven't stopped, and he admits that the prospect of being alone in his apartment scares him, but he can't live on his best friend's couch forever. Besides, even there, the nightmares would wake him up shaking and panting, waking Robin and Nancy more than once in the middle of the night. Alone in his apartment, he won't wake anyone with his whimpering and screaming.

Garfield is already waiting for him when he comes through the door, weaving through his legs and meowing at him. Surprised at how much he missed the tabby menace, Steve leans down and takes him in his arms, burying his face in the soft fur.

"Hey baby, sorry for leaving you alone for so long. But Aunt Robbie told me that she and Nancy took good care of you, playing with you and petting you. Probably spoiled you rotten, huh?"

Garfield meows again and pushes his head under Steve's chin, rubbing against him and purring like crazy. Steve smiles into his fur, thinking that he's glad to be home, even if it's still empty except for the purring cat in his arms.

He puts Garfield back down and makes him something to eat before heading to his bathroom to take a long, hot shower and change into something more comfortable. When he pushes open the door and steps inside, he is too stunned by the sight that greets him for any real reaction other than a sharp intake of breath.

On the floor is the man who has taken over most of Steve's dreams and many of his waking thoughts as well.

The man lies still and Steve can see dark stains on his clothes and he just knows it's blood. It could be someone else's, but somehow Steve is sure it's the man's own. Within seconds, he's on his knees next to the unconscious (please just be unconscious) figure, his knees smarting from the way he just fell onto them on the hard and cold tiles.

The man is on his stomach, his face turned to the side, away from Steve, so he moves to turn the man over. He's surprisingly heavy, a dead weight under his hands (no, no, no, not dead, just unconscious, his mind chants), but Steve is nothing if not persistent, and he finally manages to turn the man onto his back.

"Oh God," Steve groans as he can finally assess the damage. There are wounds all over his body, deep gashes on his thighs, his torso, his arms, even his face. "What happened to you?"

"Ten against one. Not...fair," the man replies, his voice barely audible and his eyes still closed. Steve has to lean in to make out the words, but him talking also means the man is still alive, though Steve isn't sure how much longer.

Taking the man's wrist, Steve looks for a pulse to see how far his system has already shut down, but... there is no pulse to be found.

He remembers not hearing a heartbeat when his cheek was pressed against the man's chest, so he presses his ear to where the man's heart is, waiting for the sound of its faint beat.

Nothing.

Steve leans back and searches the man's eyes, half-open now and clearly alive.

"How... you can't be alive. You don't have a pulse, your heart isn't beating." He is stammering, but it's a lot to take in. It shouldn't be possible. It's not like he wants the guy to be dead, but for all intents and purposes, he should be.

Bloodied lips pull back into a faint smile. "Sweetheart, not even the most beautiful sight like you could make my heart beat again. Although it really tries for you."

Despite everything, the way this guy flirts with him while he lies in his own blood brings a crooked smile to Steve's face.

"There, that smile? If it could, my heart would be beating out of my chest right now." Steve can tell the man is trying for levity, but he's fading and fast.

"As charming as you are, you're also bleeding all over my bathroom floor. With no pulse or heartbeat. And I don't even know your friggin' name! So forgive me for asking, but what the fuck?"

"Sorry for the blood on your floor, I tried to patch myself up, but I must have passed out. Embarrassing, really. Didn't think you'd be back so soon. I'd get out of your hair, but... well, you know. I don't think I can move." The words start to slur halfway through, and those beautiful brown eyes keep disappearing behind heavy eyelids. Steve has to do something, quickly, before his savior dies.

"Eddie," the man croaks, his voice barely audible. Steve wouldn't have heard it if it weren't for the intent way he stares at him.

"What?"

"My name. Eddie."

"Eddie. Okay." Steve nods his head, the hand still wrapped around Eddie's wrist grabbing his hand instead, squeezing it gently. "Eddie, we need to get you to the hospital now."

It looks like Eddie tries to shake his head, but gives up halfway, exhausted. "No. They can't help me."

"But they can! Someone needs to sew up your wounds, and you've lost too much blood, you need a blood transfusion and fluids and - why are you laughing?"

"You're right, I need blood, but not the way you think."

The image of sharp teeth flickers behind his eyelids, a gnarled face snarling at him. The feeling of those teeth buried in his neck, white-hot pain shooting through his veins.

"What... Eddie, I don't..."

Eddie's face turns toward him, his nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath, as if smelling the air.

"Come closer so I can smell you better."

Two different voices growling and snarling, not just one.

Strong arms lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing, carrying him nearly three miles. "It's faster than waiting for an ambulance."

"You're not human." Steve whispers. It's not a question.

Eddie answers it anyway. "No, I'm not."

"You're... You're a..." He can't say it, can't even think it.

"A vampire, yes." Eddie says it for him and everything falls into place. The neck wounds, the drained victims, the sharp teeth and the inhuman strength and speed.

"You want my blood." Steve has no idea why he's stating the obvious instead of running as fast as he can, but something tells him he's still safe with Eddie.

"So observant." Eddie chuckles, but it sounds wet and weak. "Yeah. But I won't take it, don't worry, Stevie."

In his mind Steve goes over the things he knows.

Eddie is a vampire. A vampire who killed another vampire to save Steve’s life. To save Chrissy’s life.

Eddie is dying. He may already be dead, but it looks like vampires can die again. Permanently.

Eddie wants his blood.

"Would it help you? My blood, I mean." That's the only thing he's not sure about. The most important thing, at least.

It looks like an inhuman - invampire, Steve thinks - effort, but Eddie manages to shake his head firmly.

"Steve, no."

"Would. It. Help?" Steve insists.

Eddie, the stubborn asshole, presses his lips together and refuses to look at him. That's answer enough for him.

Still holding Eddie's hand in his, he lifts his other hand to Eddie's mouth and presses the inside of his wrist against the closed mouth.

"Come on, Eddie. Drink." Another shake of the man's head only strengthens Steve's resolve. "Eddie, please. You saved my life. Let me do the same."

The stubborn ass continues to refuse, so Steve does the only logical thing. He stands, grabs his razor, and slides the blade across his wrist, just deep enough to draw blood from the otherwise shallow wound.

He presses the wrist back against Eddie's lips and this time he feels the man tremble.

"Please drink. I want you to. Let me help you." Moving his wrist and smearing his blood over Eddie's full lips, Steve pleads again, his voice breaking. "Please, Eddie."

It's the last please that does it, and the next thing Steve feels is the white-hot pain of teeth sinking into his wrist. Still smiling through the pain, he squeezes Eddie's hand. "That's it, you're doing so good. Take what you need."

And Eddie does. He drinks and drinks and drinks until the world goes fuzzy and black spots start dancing in front of Steve's eyes.

"Eddie," Steve slurs before everything goes dark.

When Steve comes to, he's in his bed.

His wrist is wrapped tightly in a pristine-looking white bandage, and he's wearing his pajamas. He has no idea how he got here or what happened, everything is kind of blurry. Steve tries to sit up, but almost immediately the world starts spinning and he groans in protest.

That's when the door to his bedroom opens and his mysterious savior walks into the room with a bowl in his hand.

Eddie, his mind supplies. His name is Eddie and he was dying the last time Steve saw him.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks him, his voice full of worry and he gets a sad smile in return.

"Stevie, I'm the one who should be asking you that." Eddie sits down next to him on the bed but doesn't touch him. He looks tense and Steve wonders why. Though most of what happened is a blur, he remembers holding Eddie's hand and Eddie calling him beautiful.

"I'm fine. A little dizzy, but fine. You were the one bleeding all over my bathroom floor. What happened, how are you even standing, how long was I out?"

Eddie reaches out and takes Steve's cheek in his hand. "You saved my life, Stevie. That's what happened. And you almost got yourself killed, you self-sacrificing idiot. So even though it saved my life, I have to ask you, beg you if I have to, to never do anything so stupid again."

Steve puts his own hand on top of Eddie's hand on his face and looks him in the eye as he tells him, "You saved my life first and risked your own as well. So I guess the pot is calling the kettle black here."

He's rewarded with a dimpled smile. "Fair point. Now that we're even, can you promise me you'll never do anything like this again?"

"I dunno. Can you promise not to try to save me again if I'm in danger?" He knows it's a low blow, but if it helps him get his point across, he's not above playing dirty. Besides, part of him really wants to know. The needy part, the scared part.

"You know the answer to that," Eddie says, brushing his thumb across Steve's cheekbone.

"Isn't that a little unfair?"

"Yeah," Eddie whispers, and Steve realizes he's so much closer than before. "But I don't care if it keeps you safe."

Steve feels his heart thunder in his chest, his eyes darting from Eddie's to the other man's lips and back again. Licking his own lips, Steve asks, "And why is that?"

Eddie's lips are only a breath away from his own, and he tastes his answer as much as he hears it.

"You know that answer as well."

Before Steve can say anything else, Eddie's cool, smooth lips seal over his and every thought in his mind is forgotten. There's only Eddie.

Later he'll ask about the other vampires. About all the dead people in the emergency room. He'll ask who Eddie is, why he's running around town saving people, and who hurt him so badly.

But all that can wait, at least until Steve is done drinking down the delicious sounds falling from Eddie's mouth.

This is a little birthday gift for my dear friend @yournowheregirl. Alice, I know you love vampires so I tried my best to give you some. Time ran out on me but I still hope you like it 💜

I hope you had the best birthday ever because you deserve nothing but happiness.

Edit: I forgot while posting to say that this is heavily inspired by a wonderful podcast I highly recommend, Not quite dead. Give it a listen folks!

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #vampire eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #Nurse Steve Harrington #my writing

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bitterchocoo · 8 months

Note

Ok so, I saw the Welt oneshot you did and like

Pls

I need a continuation, it's a necessity at this point aismsodmdjd, I love it so much, the pain, the anguish everything was so good buaaaaaaaaaa

The Other "You"

Part One | Part two (You're here)

----------

Welt Yang | M. Reader

----------

"I feel like... I'm seeing a ghost.."

----------

[Name] only sigh as he sees the stacks of paperwork on his desk, he needs to finish them and fast if he wants to take his naps. Poor guy has been doing all-nighters for how many weeks now? He can't remember. The arrival of the Nameless didn't made it easier either as his necessary work just doubles the amount from what it originally was! He needs his sleep for Aeon's sake!

And that one guy, Welt Yang was it? He seems to have make it his personal mission to bug him acting like a child who wants his attention. What's his deal? Aren't they here for Her Excellency?

Either way he'll just ignore him if it get's too much.

But given the man's gentle, kind, and intellectual aura and mannerisms... [Name] can't exactly ignore him for too long.. there's just something about him that pulls him towards the seemingly old man. He even somehow knew what tea he usually drinks as he gave him some when he once said that he ran out of them in his office, [Name] didn't even think for a second that Welt would remember something as trivial as 'running out of tea.'

[Name] brush it off as a coincidence after all it's just tea, there's no harm in it. Plus it's quite endearing to have someone remember your preferences. But as time passes [Name] began to see a pattern. How the hell does this man knew so much about him!? Heck! He even brought [Name] his favorite dessert to enjoy for during his afternoon tea! How does he do that?! It's almost like he knew him for years, despite the fact they just met a few days ago.

Even though this is the other "him." Welt felt relief at the sight of [Name] being healthy and well. Still as blunt and stubborn as always, and he's Her Excellency's right hand? It's good to know he's been doing well in this universe.

Welt's heart skips a beat every time he notices that [Name] has the same habits of the one he knew and loved.

Like how he visibly shows disgust when he has to repeat himself yet again, how he would rather read novels than reading his own paperwork, how he won't hesitate to call someone out and calling them "dumb" or "stupid."

Aeons! It's like he's back with him again!

Then there's one that he noticed that made his heart nearly burst from his chest, this [Name] also collects things from trinkets to ball-jointed dolls.

This gave him an idea.

"Huh?" [Name] blinked twice, looking at Welt's gift in disbelief. Wha... What..? And most importantly how?

Welt had given him an awfully specific gift.

A ball-jointed doll of a little boy with indigo hair and blue eyes.

Who is he? He doesn't seem like a character from a comic or anything that he knew of. So who is he? Welt had told him that his name is Joyce. But who in Aeons name is Joyce?

But even so... Joyce ended up being his favorite as he took care of it as best as he could given his tight schedule. He's treating the doll as if he's his own flesh and blood. [Name] can't help it. It's almost like an instinct for him, a gravitational pull.

Why? Why is he acting like this? Sure yes he took care of his dolls, but he does so because he doesn't want them to be broken or messed up.

But why does he care for Joyce so much?

The question itself drove him mad which led to [Name] just stopped thinking about it any longer to avoid headaches and a potential identity crisis. The Stellaron crisis is already enough of a headache [Name] doesn't need anything else to worry about.

He goes to place the doll on his shelf before a raging headache consumes him like a strong wave in the ocean.

"Ack!" [Name] puts a hand on his forehead and the other on the shelf for support.

"Don't you want to?"

"No."

"Come on~ we can give you everything~"

"Trust us."

"Let us in."

"We can give you the power to protect her."

"We can tell you the truth."

"Just let us in."

"SHUT UP!!"

[Name] yelled at the top of his lungs as his grip on the shelf tightens ever so slightly. He took a few steps back and placed both of his hands on his face, stumbling with his steps. Shaken by the voices in his head. The voices of them. The voices of the—

He was cut off by the sound of knocking from his door. Taking deep breaths he straightened himself and made sure he was presentable before clearing his throat and saying. "Come in."

A guard entered his office, closing the door behind him he stood there and gave a bow as a sign of respect to his superior before delivering a message. "Sir, Her Excellency had requested your presence in her chamber."

[Name]'s eyes widened by a split-second before going back to a neutral one. "I see. Thank you, you may leave." The moment the guard left [Name] let out a sigh he tries to calm himself down from his previous outburst, having Her Excellency witness him in such a state is unforgivable after all. She deserve nothing less than the best.

Her chamber is quite spacious, one that could be mistaken as a drawing room. But even so, Her Excellency have kept it practical only having the necessities and refusing to fill it with anything else other than that.

Entering the room, he was greeted by a young lady sitting on her chair as she looked outside of her window with a somber look, leaving her now cold tea on the table to her right. Seeing the look on her face, the tall man approach the other before kneeling in front of her, he said. "Your Excellency, you have requested my presence. Is there something of your concerns?"

The woman turns her head towards the voice, she lets out a sigh and shook her head, this did not manage to convince him. After all, he is her right hand, he knows his Lady like an open book. "Your Excellency... if something is bothering you, please I beg you to tell me."

She stayed silent for a moment before speaking in a soft and gentle voice that's only above a whisper. "It's nothing, [Name], and haven't I told you countless of times? Please.. call me Christine, you don't have to address me in such a formal way.." [Name] doesn't like that. He doesn't like having Her Exce—Christine—leaving him in the dark like that. Can't she see he cares for her deeply? Can't she see how softer he is when he's with her and only her? Can't she see how willingly he sacrifice everything for her?

"Christine.." He began in a somber tone, his expression softens ever so slightly.

'I know it hurts.. watching your people suffer like that.. but you don't have to suffer anymore... for I won't allow it.' He thought to himself as he gently hold her hand. 'I'll do anything to ensure that tears won't fall from those eyes.' He takes her hand and bring it close to his lips and kiss the back of her hand. 'I promise you that... My Christine..'

'Even if it means accepting their proposal. I'll do it.' His eyes darken at the thought. 'The Stellaron's proposal.'

----------

Shame.. It seems this "[Name]" has other plans in mind. Interesting is it not? The previously cold man is now someone that's obsessed with another in this world.

If only it's with him. Then he might get his happy ending.

What do you say?

Should he have his happy ending? Or should he "lose" his love once more? Be it by death.. Or by his heart that belongs to someone else..

----------

#seme male reader #top male reader #x male reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x male reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x male reader #hsr welt #welt yang #welt x reader #welt x male reader #welt yang x reader

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bamboospirit · 1 year

Text

Mu Qingfang joined the party! Mu Qingfang left the party!

Poor guy was worried about his friend and then had an ongoing crisis about the peach tree, that weird cultivator that's probably related to his prickly shixiong and is apparently a once in a generation talent at beast (and PLANT???) taming. And he didn't even get to see the mischievous dragon orchid before he had to leave!

I had this one in my drafts for a few days but I always forgot to post it, whoops. I actually wanted to draw something else but I take every chance to draw my magikarp fountains, and Mu Qingfang's little crisis while LiuShen are over there throwing dog food made me snort when I read it the first time :D

The fanfic is Cultivate: Slow life on a Monster-Infested Mountain by @neonghostcat

#svsss fanart #svsss #shen qingqiu #liu qingge #shen yuan #fanfic fanart #svsss fanfiction #mu qingfang #return of the magikarp #liushen #fanfic: cultivate

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aaabsinthe · 11 months

Note

Hi!! Can I request crushing and relationship headcanons for Junkerqueen with a fem s/o? Like how would she realize she likes them? thank you! :)

Junker Queen x Female Reader Relationship Headcanons

A/N: It's been a while y'all - boy am I glad to be back. Literally right after I posted my note about all of the stuff I'm working on, I got slammed with the biggest assessment I've had in my course so far (17 documents total once I'd finally finished it) and caught scarlet fever of all thing so it's taken a good while for me to finally feel well enough and have spare time to write - but here we are!

I'm so excited to write for my favourite built queen - this gif alone is makin me feel things. I'm going to format all of these the same way from now on with SFW and NSFW headcanons from now on. Ofc there will be warning for the NSFW section :)

I hope you enjoy anon despite the wait!

-Nat

SFW Headcanons

Odessa is the kind of gal that isn't really impressed by appearances.

Sure, she has her preferences and finds certain things attractive, but that isn't what piques her interest.

For Dez, it's all about personality, especially if you're the kind of person who is merciful and gentle with others.

This doesn't mean you have to be a doormat, in fact if you stand up for yourself (physically or verbally) when you feel as if you are being treated unfairly or others are being treated unfairly, that's possibly the hottest thing you could ever do in her eyes.

It's just something about the Peter Pan types that really captivates her. Not just in stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, but in being self aware of your strengths and using them to do right by those who are not in the same position of privilege.

This is how she figures out that her little crush on you was not just a little crush anymore.

She overheard you and another agent talking about life before the crisis, and found out that you used to do volunteer work every weekend delivering essentials to the homeless in your city and how much you missed your community outreach.

That and she watched you sock a guy in the face after he attempted to grope your friend at a bar.

It's healing for her and her inner child and she finds herself looking up to you as a role model - she's aware she's no angel and has done many questionable things to survive out there in the wasteland.

However she hopes that now as a part of Overwatch, she can be better and similarly to you, that she can use her position to help others less fortunate.

Dez is fine with casual or short term relationships and has had plenty in her time, she doesn't necessarily need to know someone to be attracted to them - but when she built that emotional connection with you, that's when she knew she was in for the long run.

The best part about dating Dez is that she isn't embarrassed easily - she's very open from the beginning which means conversation flows naturally with her. The downside of this is that for the first few months of being together, getting to sleep was nearly impossible, three am deep conversations just hit different.

This also means if you ever need anything, she is more than happy to accommodate.

Sick? She keeps note of the medication you need and when you need to take it so she can make sure you take it (and bring you water in your comfort water bottle to boot). That time of the month? If somehow the stash of your preferred products are out, she knows what you use - she will get you more without you even needing to ask (she will however check if you crave anything in particular on the way out).

Expect to be doing the same for her when she gets sick - she becomes the biggest needy baby when she's not feeling well.

She's stuck in bed? Yep. So are you.

Not even by choice either, she cages you with her arms and well that's that. There's no fighting this goliath of a woman.

Loves her cuddles - all positions.

Her favourite is being the little spoon though. It's not often that she gets to feel protected and cocooned (can you really blame her).

Loves PDA - particularly keeping an arm around your waist or you attached to her arm at all times, though she's known to do a casual steamy kiss in public when she's feeling particularly jealous.

If you're not one for PDA, she respects that boundary... However she will pout at you with those big red puppy dog eyes.

Absolutely hopeless at cooking and baking though not for lack of trying. Wakes you up regularly cursing about burning her toast.

Of course it's not all sunshine and rainbows.

Speaking of waking you up, Dez has nightmares somewhat regularly.

She's always so thankful to have you there to vent to if she needs it and cuddle with until she's calm enough to fall back asleep.

NSFW CONTENT WARNING

NSFW Headcanons (18+)

Sex to Odessa is powerplay, a safe space to be strong and vulnerable all in one.

Hard dom top - that control means everything to her.

This woman loves a good scrap (duh), if you choose to be a bratty sub, she eats that shit up.

Go ahead, try and buck her off of you, she's not even using half her strength. She can hold you down much harder.

Expect to be begging for mercy.

The two of you develop a safe word very early on in your relationship, Odessa would never forgive herself if she pushed you past your limit.

Definitely has and regularly uses an appropriately sized strap (ouch).

Dez has her kinks. Sex between the two of you is rarely vanilla unless other feelings are involved. She's entuned to what you need and your emotions, she knows when you need the gentler and less complicated sex or when you honestly just need someone to hold you.

That being said, she has a reasonably high sex drive. She can manage on her own if you can't or don't feel like it, but say the words and honestly she's ready when you are.

Though she really would prefer you called her Dez, Odessa, babe - really anything other than her title outside of the bedroom, call her your queen between the sheets - she'll go berserk.

Dabbles in pain play, something of an every now and then addition to the bedroom, it's not something she needs and the both of you really have to be in the mood for the more intensive side of sex. She does however love to see you take Gracie's hilt in every hole.

Unless you'd consider overstimulation a form of pain play. There is nothing she loves more than watching you struggle and beg with tears leaking from your eyes, completely at her mercy.

Light bondage when she doesn't feel like physically restraining you herself.

Claims your face as her throne whenever the mood strikes.

Speaking of claiming, your neck, collarbone and tits are never safe from her demanding mouth.

There aren't really many kinks that Dez would feel uncomfortable with, she would try pretty much anything before she knocks it.

Definite no though - I feel like she'd laugh at ironically calling her 'mommy'/'mummy', especially if you have a different accent, but considering her complicated family past, it just hits a little too close to home to take it seriously especially during sex.

Obviously amazing at foreplay, she knows what she likes which makes it so much easier from the start (not to mention her cheekily buying vibrating piercings just to mess with you) but honestly the best part is that she's enjoying herself just as much as you.

It's all give and take with Dez, you give as much as you get.

#overwatch #overwatch headcanon #overwatch x reader #overwatch imagines #Junker Queen #Junker Queen x Reader #Junker Queen x reader smut #smut #overwatch x reader smut

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sunlightmurdock · 3 days

Text

AETERNA | One

PROLOGUE | MASTERLIST

SYNOPSIS: TROUBLE COMES TO TOWN.

WARNINGS: smoking; the fic takes place in the 70s and so 70s era things will happen; smoking weed; mentions of sw as a joke; this fic has mature themes and is intended for adults, minors pls dni. spooky stuff. word count: 6312.

The summer in Atwood, Georgia, began as all summers in Atwood always had. Slow. Creeping in through the remaining breezes, blooms and spring showers. Fitting itself into the days so unsuspectingly. It never feels like it’s really summer until the sweat is already beading down your back and the girls’ skirts are an inch shorter than they were a year before.

There’s a spot around the back of Creekside Pines Retirement Village, covered by the shade of those namesake pines, where the girls who work there go to smoke. The Pines has been around longer than any of the residents currently in it; the Church started it decades ago and they made sure to keep it going.

Tucked under the shade of those thick, green pine trees, the branches provide a respite from the approaching early summer sun and also from your dirtbag boss, Conrad Wheelan.

Olive and you, you and Olive. Since Conrad hired you last September, the two of you have become quite the dynamic duo. Candy-striped partners in crime, experts at avoiding old guy sponge bath time. Smokers of cheap, gas station cigarettes. Gossipers of a truly impressive standard.

You’re sitting on opposite sides of the brick walls that bracket the stairs to the back door, your foot beside her hip and hers beside yours, your knees bent and a Marlboro between your index and middle.

“But anyway, I think she’s just jealous. He broke up with her for a reason.” Her face is veiled for a moment by tendrils of swirling cigarette smoke before the midday sun beams once again on her freckled face. She’s talking about a boy she has been fooling around with. He’s older, and he called off his engagement two months ago.

His ex really has it out for Olive. She’s a pretty little nurse at the local hospital. Her daddy went after the poor guy with a gun when the engagement broke. The ex went after Olive in the middle of Herb’s Wholefoods, shoved her right into the display of tinned peaches. But hey, your Mom got six dented tins for the price of one. Silver linings and all that jazz.

Your break was over twenty minutes ago, but the AC is broken and you’ve spent the morning choking on the smell of Eau de Old Lady — the smell of magnolias in bloom and Marlboros on fire are a much welcome change in pace.

Besides, your best friend is in crisis. She’s got a bruise the size of a not-tinned, regular ol’ peach in the middle of her back, a shattered ego, and apparently a new step-kid on the way.

“So, what’s he going to do about it?” You ask her, your face towards the sun, cigarette ash on the wall beside you.

“The baby? — I don’t know. She didn’t even want the kid until he told her he was leaving, now she’s suddenly Mother Theresa.” Olive says with a wistful sigh. Her older boyfriend got that girl in trouble and ran for the hills, but apparently he treats Olive like a princess. Your mother says she’s trouble, but you like her.

Girls like Olive will always pick the wrong kind of man. It’s that kind of No Man’s Land where human nature and fate come to make out — and that’s not Olive’s fault — she’s just at their will; like a puppet. Or a hamster on a wheel.

“You know, I think you’d make a pretty boss step-mommy.” You tell her, cocking your head the way that you do when you know you’re dancing right along her nerve endings. A smile creeps across your coral- glossed lips, revealing the coral-glossed ring they have left around the butt of the cigarette.

“Oh, bite me. You know I’d rather swap places with Hughie Marshall than get stuck raising her kid.” Olive scoffs out, flicking at the cigarette with a red painted nail and bending her bruised knees. That’s quite a thing to say around here.

You didn’t know Hughie, before. Not really. His dad was the principal of your high school, but you knew him after Hughie was already back.

Apparently before his accident, Hughie was a real stud. All-American with dark hair and a bright future. Then he stepped on a landmine in Cambodia; he wasn’t even supposed to be there by the official military statement. But he was.

He doesn’t leave the house anymore. His brain’s all mashed together and he’s got a metal plate in the left side of his head. One arm and no right foot, but worse than that — no jaw. Folks say it was taken clean off in the blast. They sent him out to California for a whole bunch of surgeries, but he still looks like a guy who has been pieced back together.

But Olive’s only kidding about wanting to be in his place. No one wants to be in Hughie’s place, especially not Hughie.

Her joke isn’t the kind of thing that needs to be laughed at, your polite exhale of amusement mixes with the soft rustle of leaves, a fleeting moment of rebellion against Dictator Wheelan and his reign of terror. Each smoky exhale carries whispers of things that would make your mothers shiver, but such is the way for two girls on the cusp of freedom.

In this hidden sanctuary, on the cusp of the woods, the two of you are a united front against the elderly residents of The Pines. Rather than the bell that signaled the end of your freedom in your school days, nowadays it’s the sound of heavy leather shoes on the linoleum that signal the end of your stolen respite.

“Shit.”

“Shit.” The two of you agree, stubbing out your cigarettes and leaping up from the walls, throwing the butts into the mess of fallen foliage at the side of the building.

And at once, Conrad swings open the fire escape door and finds the two of you standing there in your candy-striped aprons, white stockings and pristinely white shoes. Like butter wouldn’t fucking melt.

He’s a towering man, maybe six foot five in his prime, but he hunches a bit from his constant slouching at his desk. He was a red- head once, but now his hair has thinned to the point of scarcity, and he’s usually got a razor rash on his neck from shaving a bit too hastily in the mornings. He knows damn well that the two of you were out here slacking.

“Ladies,” He tries, his smile tight-lipped and half frozen, like a salesman who couldn’t quite make himself look human enough to get the job. “If you wouldn’t mind, Mr. Halbert and Mrs. Knight could use some help in the dining room.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Wheelan.” Olive hits him back with a smile that comes much more naturally, and a cool shrug of her shoulders. She’s a real girl-next-door type. It’s why the wrong kind of guy likes her so much. You’re halfway certain that her killer smile and her long legs are the only reason that Conrad hasn’t fired her yet.

“Yes, sir.” You follow suit.

He allows the both of you to dip around him and just like that, you’re locked back in with the living dead. Old folks who seem just as confused as you about how they’re still hanging on. Oh, that’s mean, really — they aren’t so bad. They’re nice to you. You listen to them.

“I like it when you wear your hair like that,” Mrs. Knight tells you, sitting back uncomfortably. Her green eyes study you, her fingers curled around a shivering china teacup. “Much better than when it's down.”

You’ve learned by now that most of the compliments in this place come with a backhand. Your chin propped up on your palm, you answer her with an amused smile.

“Maybe you could do my hair like yours one day, June,” You suggest, stacking together the remnants of her lunch so that it’ll be easier to porter back to the kitchen. She used to own her own salon down on Mayfair Lane, your mother got her first haircut from June Knight. You shoot a look across the room at Arnie Knight, who is watching you care for his wife. “Teach me how to land a guy like Arnie.”

“Oh, honey — you know my Arnie’s one of a kind.” She giggles. Your mouth twists back into a grin. He sure is. He stormed the beaches in Normandy and still found it in himself to father seven kids once he made it back. In his day, Arnie sounds like he was a stud.

There aren’t too many studs left in Atwood these days. Those boys are either wandering hallowed halls, meat-heads that will be here forever or settled six feet under. Anyone more than four years older than you is either a war hero, or they’re like Hughie Marshall.

The ones that still wake up in Cole County aren’t the kind of boys you’ll be sharing your golden years with, anyway. No, you’ve got much bigger plans for your retirement.

Napa Valley, a sprawling house with burnt orange tile overlooking a vineyard withthat your silver-fox husband who tends to you while you enjoy the fruits of his labour and spend your afternoons tipsy, waiting for the party to start that evening. Far, far from the shade of the trees that line Marsh’s Creek, beside Creekside Pines Retirement Village.

That’s one day, though. For today, the excitement stretches as far as letting Billy Cline pick you up in his true blue 1965 Chevy short bed pickup. Just like most of the guys your age that are in this town, you’ve known Billy for a long time. Your mother still thinks of him as the sweet little boy with blonde curls and overalls.

He still wears overalls, but his blonde curls are now straighter, slicked back with a generous helping of pomade. He came right from work, the auto shop in town, to pick you up.

You change shamelessly in the passenger seat of his truck as he speeds along the old road out towards the Cole County airport, shoving your uniform into your bag and wriggling into the clothing you had smuggled past your mother.

“I’m not driving you home wearing that,” Billy chortles, eyes wide and already shaking his head as you pull the knitted halter neck over your chest, your lips pursed in concentration as you fasten the tie behind your neck. “I’ll stop at the Post Office and you can walk from there.”

Exhaling and kicking the bag into the footwell, you tug open the glovebox and start to root for the sunglasses you left in here last time.

“What? You don’t dig the orange?”

You know full well that Billy’s concerns about your outfit don’t start or end with the burnt orange color of your hot pants. He scoffs loudly beside you to agree as your fingers stumble across the little plastic baggie at the back of his glovebox.

“I don’t dig that your old man threatened to slash my tires last time he saw me rollin’ with you.”

That makes you laugh. You pluck the green from the glovebox and melt back into the blue suede seats Billy had spent all of last summer fixing up.

“Fred wouldn’t hurt you.” Your father talks a big talk sometimes, maybe that’s where you can get it from, but he likes Billy and he’s not the kind of father that spends his time worrying about which boy you’re messing around with. “Might trick you into doing some yard work for him, though.”

Straight, empty road for miles ahead, Bill turns his head and looks at the bag caught between your index and middle fingers, dangling toward him like the forbidden fruit itself.

“Great, so I’ll take you home high as a kite and dressed like a hooker and he’ll invite me to water his gardenias.” He hums, reaching out and snatching the bag from you. He still has every intention of lighting up, but he knows there’s a pothole about a mile ahead and the last time he let you roll up along this road wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Come on, Bill — now,” Your white canvas sneakers are still discarded in the footwell, you kick your bare feet up onto the dash. “That’s no way to talk to your best chance at ever getting laid, is it?”

There’s a fondness in the way he rolls those steely-blue eyes at you. There’s no real destination at the end of this long, empty stretch of road. There are one of four possible spots for the two of you to pick from.

Just far enough from Conrad Wheelan, and your father’s gardenias, and the Cole County sheriff's department for the two of you to crawl into the bed of the truck, light up and wait for time to pass.

It’s no way to spend summer, really. But this is the last May that your afternoons will look like this. Next May, you’ll be thinking about Olive and Billy from the Paramount Pictures backlot. Maybe Warner Brothers, you’re not in a position to be too picky.

As a kid, you had sworn that you would pack your things and head for the hills the day that you turned eighteen. Things hadn’t worked out quite that way, but now, you’ll be sitting in the Malibu sunshine before you turn twenty-three.

“Who the fuck is that?”

You drop the bag onto the bench and follow Billy’s eyes towards the rearviewrear view mirror, fully prepared to see your Uncle Paul’s police cruiser coming up behind you. Instead, you’re met with the picture of a very small heavy hauler. Cherry-red, coming over the hill like hell on wheels. It’s illegal to drive that fast, even out here. Especially in something that big.

The house that you pass on the left has two young kids who live there, and the Whistler family let those kids play in that unfenced yard all day long. A big, red truck coming along this country road that fast… bye, bye Whistler family.

“Fuckin’ maniacs.” Billy mutters, frowning and shaking his head. It almost makes you smile. William Cline, slipping back into the weepy little boy he had once been, a stickler for the rules back then. But you don’t have time to smile.

Your knees push up onto the suede, your palm flattening against the back window, sticking to the glass with a squeak as you slide it open. That cherry red truck is a lot clearer without the filter of dust and dirt between you, and a lot less small now that it’s getting closer.

“Probably late for a delivery or something. It’s gonna try to pass you.” You realise, resting your arms over the back of the bench. Billy almost forgets why that’s important as he glances across at the way those burnt orange shorts flex around your ass.

He swallows, checks the rear-view mirror and remembers the sharp bend coming up. There aren’t any signs and it kind of comes out of nowhere, and if this jerk tries to overtake him on it, his truck is going to wind up in a ditch.

He eases his foot onto the break and considers just stopping all together, biting the inside of his cheek. Out of towners. The truck grows bigger and bigger, the engine rumbling like a growl, until it’s close enough that you can see the man behind the wheel. His hair is longish and feathery, jet-black and his face is half covered by a pair of green lensed sunglasses.

By his side is a kid, already looking at you. She has long blonde hair tied back in two braids, and a strange look on her face. Like she is excited to see you. She sits forwards in her seat and cocks her head sharply to the side, her eyes tracking you as the truck whizzes by. The sharp motion makes you pull back swiftly from the window.

Her head twists to follow until she’s out of your view and you’re blinking at the painted trailer being hauled by the truck. Maverick’s Cabinet of Mysteries. A circus. Red and white stripes and a big, shining yellow font.

“Did you see that kid?” The words spill from your lips as you brace one hand against the dashboard, watching the rest of the truck whizzes by, trying to blink that awful, jerky, movement of her neck from your mind.

“What? — No, I saw that jackass almost take my side view mirror with him.” Billy huffs out angrily, putting his foot back on the gas the second that giant trailer is past him.

It’s not the only one. Right behind the first, is another truck that appears identical. You don’t get a look at the driver, just the red and white stripes and Maverick’s Cabinet of Mysteries in that shiny red and gold font.

“Who even goes to the frickin’ circus anymore?” Billy’s care for his truck spills out in bitterness as he steadies the wheel and watches the second truck be succeeded by a third. All three of them, red and gold and white death traps, growling as they speed along the road ahead of you.

The cold feeling from the first truck has passed by, now you’re at the mercy of the sun being at its highest point, casting out heat like a blanket, warming the cab of the truck like a greenhouse.

Twisting in your seat, your lips twitch as you find that the three cargo trucks aren’t unaccompanied. Behind them is a string of vehicles, lead by a pretty far-out Chevy camper with rad burnt orange racer stripes along the side.

You look back at Billy over your shoulder. “We could.”

It’s not like there is much else to do around this place. Beats the regular Friday tune of heading down to the Empire movie theatre by Lane Street and sipping at a sugary, fizzing coke while watching a Western.

As the camper draws closer, your gaze locks on to the two people sitting in the front. A dark haired woman, her lips red and round, sucking on a lollipop with her bare feet kicked up onto the dash. Her sunglasses hide her eyes, but you know she’s looking at you.

It’s almost at the speed limit, not quite at the same terrifying speed as the trucks ahead but still warranting a ticket. In the driver’s seat is a real stone fox, broad and tanned with sunkissed brown caramel-curls and a real Burt-Reynolds-in-100-Rifles kind of moustache.

They’re driving with the windows down, cooled by the breeze in their hair like they aren’t icy enough already. Her sunglasses are round and plastic-framed, with orange lenses. So cool— so California. And him too.

Even with his more standard gold-framed caravans, his barely buttoned blue short sleeve and the equally caramel coloured dusting of chest hair spilling out, he looks like a movie star.

You’re barely aware of Billy crushing your idea beside you. “Me? — Nah. Sorry, sister, no way — lame, lame, lame.”

Doesn’t matter, you’ll be going with or without him if Mr. Movie Star is going to be there.

His white camper with the orange stripes gets close enough for you to realise that it’s not just her looking at you, he is too. It’s a little narcissistic to assume that it’s for any reason other than the way you’re already staring at them, but the thought of the two of them liking what they see — thinking maybe you could look like them — makes your coral lips stretch.

Up close, you can hear the blaring sound of their radio. A guitar riff that you remember from somewhere deep in the back of your mind, something you know you’ve heard many times before but just can’t place.

You follow them, magnetized by the draw of their eyes, planting a palm right between Billy's greased overall thighs and leaning across the bench to keep staring through the rolled-down driver’s side window.

The raven-haired woman pushes the lollipop into the hollow of her cheek and tells him something. You can’t hear it over the sound of their radio blaring out. He responds with a just-can’t-help-it kind of grinning chuckle, turning his head to look across at you.

The door was open, and the wind appeared.

The candles blew, and then disappeared.

The curtains flew, and then he appeared.

Sayin’ “Don’t be afraid.”

On all fours, looking at him like he’s the new guy at the zoo.

Come on, baby (and she had no fear).

And she ran to him (then they started to fly).

They looked backward and said goodbye (she had become like they are).

Heat gathered across your skin, that knitted late summer sunset coloured halter stretched tight across your chest, scandalous by the standards of Atwood — downright foxy if you ventured further west.

Your hair has been freed from the tidy updo that Conrad Wheelan prefers it to be in while you’re working, but not quite tamed after that. Wild and free, as the wind whips through it.

As if to try to contain your grin, you sink your teeth into the coral of your bottom lip, beaming at him anyway. Then, you lift the hand that isn’t settled between Billy’s thighs, and wiggle your fingers at him in greeting.

“What the hell are you doin’? — I can’t even see the road!” Billy complains.

Mr. Movie Star couldn’t have heard him, but he shoots a look at the complaining driver anyway. Then, his attention is yours again. Still smiling that amused smile, he lifts a tanned arm from its perch against the open window ledge, and throws up a loose peace sign across the stretch of road between you. His passenger laughs around her lollipop.

”Sayin’ hello. It’s polite.” You tell him back.

Between his obnoxious music, the wind whipping between the cars, and the equally polite indoor voice you had spoken in, there’s no way that Mr. Movie Star could have possibly heard you. He laughs like he had.

With that, the camper passes by. It takes the song and the blaring guitar with it, the rhythmic picking carrying across the flat stretches of road. It’s got tinted windows all around the sides and back. A real pussy wagon, you bet. Mr. Movie Star has probably seen a lot of action in the back of that van. Queue the wistful sigh from you. If you could just stop from grinning.

“Get off. C’mon, put your seatbelt on or something.”

“He was really something, don’t ya think?” You say, still grinning dumbly as you retreat back to the designated passenger’s spot, tracking the camper along the old stretch of Airport Road.

“Yeah, yeah — mellow out before you ruin my seats.” Billy grumbles, frowning at his side-view mirror. Six more vehicles to go; none of them drive quite as wild as those first couple of big trucks.

“How long d’you think they’re in town for?” You prop one elbow against the side of the door and plant your chin atop your palm, staring after the camper as you kick your feet across Billy’s lap. “You think it’s like an all- summer deal or just a couple of weekends?”

Billy shoots a steely look across the cab.

Sure, he was kind of a weedy kid. Small for his age, with a mom who was rarely more than a stone’s throw away. He’s not bad looking. Stick thin with a long, straight nose but pretty blue eyes. There’s usually motor oil in his blonde hair these days.

Either way, he hadn’t always exactly been the pick of the litter but with the war and stuff, he’s not such a bad option these days.

And still, you’ve had him benched in the friend zone since freshman year. Both of you know that it’ll just take an especially dry season for you to finally do him, and you are good company, he likes having you around.

He doesn’t like the douchebag with the ‘stache moving in on the closest thing he has to a girlfriend.

“They might stop by The Pines — you know, like those folks from the fair did, that one time.” you’re really talking to yourself at this point.

Billy looks across, unimpressed as he’s overtaken by a 1959 Ford F-100, painted a faded shade of light green.

Three people are crammed into the cab, and as it slips in front of you, you find that the bed of the truck is also occupied.

Two girls and one hell of a guy. He’s sitting with his back to the cab, shirtless and golden all over with a cigarette dangling from his lips and a hand of cards held to his chest.

The two girls are wearing little tanks and coloured hot pants, conferring with each other while he watches, cool as ice.

He’s grinning, a smooth talker even when you can’t hear what he’s saying. It’s not money that he’s talking those poor girls out of either, that’s why one of them proudly has his t-shirt balled up in her lap.

“Mrs. Cavendish would have a cow if—“ your rambling trails and your smile spreads as Golden Boy looks up from his poker game and finds you watching. “Whoa. Where are they finding these dudes?”

“Probably jail,” Billy mumbles, begrudging the topless wonder in the back of the truck. “Or a register of some kind, if you catch my drift.”

Golden Boy’s lips stretch thin around his hand-rolled cigarette, his grin dimpling his cheeks. Totally jiving with the way you’re staring at him, stretching his already broad shoulders like a peacock would with its feathers.

He’s a sandy kind of blonde and maybe even more of a movie-star looker than his buddy had been.

He tips his chin and graces you with a nod of acknowledgement. Then, he looks down at the hand of cards and closes his lips around the cigarette, inhaling deeply.

With a cool shrug, he cocks an eyebrow and seems to dare his two lady companions to put their money where their mouths are.

Billy glances down at the bag of green still on the bench between the two of you, practically starting a mental countdown until the two of you are out by the Falls, high as kites. Far from tanned, muscled carnie folk.

The trucks and cars pass by and head for the horizon, and Billy’s blue Chevy hugs the curves of winding country roads all the way out past Route Thirteen. Past Airport Road, there’s no sign of your two new objects of affection — given the heat of the late afternoon, you’re starting to wonder if all of them were a mirage or something.

That’s what the boys who come back from war tell you they saw out there. Apparitions in the jungle, like ghosts, but nice. Tommy Holdman says he thought he had died out there, laying flat on his back after he lost his leg, and all he could see was miles and miles of coastline. A perfect, pretty beach. His own idea of heaven.

Yours, apparently, is something far different.

The Falls isn’t really a waterfall. It’s maybe a ten- foot slow incline in the river bend. It’s shitty enough to not draw too many visitors, unlike the much more popular swimming spot out where the old quarry is. That place would be packed on an afternoon like this.

Your spot is on the far end of the county, nestled a while back off the road but not too far into the woods. It’s a spot to cool off without having to commit to really swimming, and it’s the only spot you know where the fuzz wouldn’t come poking around at the smell of skunk.

No one comes out here, not even the cops.

The afternoon is all yours, right through into the evening. It didn’t take Billy long to get over his mood, he’s grinning when he drops you off, right by your front door.

There’s no way he would make you walk all the way from the Post Office, not really. Everyone’s heard those stories of girls going missing in small towns like this, and through all of her faults, Betty Cline had raised a pretty stand-up young man.

“See ya Tuesday, I’ll call you!” You wave to him as you jog up the front steps onto the porch of your parents’ home.

He waves back from the driver’s side of his truck, and drives home to his mother’s roast chicken the same way he always does. She still packs his lunches too.

Fred looks up from Hawaii Five-O, in all of its multicoloured, static-fuzz glory as the screen door rattles to an abrupt shut. He flinches as the heavier, wood front door slams behind it.

“Look at that, she is alive.” He calls from the living room, for your ears more than anyone else’s.

“Hi, Papa Bear. You worrying about me again?” You coo, kicking your shoes off by the door and strolling across the hardwood, bracing yourself on the doorframe as you swing widely into the parlour, where Fred sits in his recliner, staring at his prized possession — the color TV set he bought after the new year.

“Worryin’ about you is like worryin’ the fox might hurt itself on its way out of the coop.”

You don’t much mind the image of yourself, the sly fox, prowling around town and making all of those chicken-shit boys cry for help. Your mouth almost twitches at the thought as you plonk yourself down on the carpeted floor and turn your attention towards Steve McGarrett saving the day.

Clearly at some point after you have nestled onto the carpet with your back to him, Fred clocks the outfit you have wandered home in.

“Now, where’d the hell did you even buy somethin’ like that?” You can hear the wrinkled frown on his aging face. He’s only in his fifties now, but with deep wrinkles and freckles from years working outside.

“Church-sale, I think.” You answer back, wondering if your mother is still up. She goes to bed early on weeknights so that she can be up early for her work at the grocery store in the mornings.

Fred lost his sense of smell when he worked in the mines in his late teens — he couldn’t tell the difference if you smelled like Mary-Jane or magnolias.

“You were with that kid from the auto shop again?” Fred puffs on cigarettes like a chimney. It turns the white ceilings brown occasionally, but your Mom has always been ready with a tin of cloud-coloured paint to fix that.

“Uh-huh. You know Billy.”

“Yeah.” He decides. There are worse boys you could be running around with than that teary-eyed fella.

“Saw a bunch of vans out by Airport Road today. Setting up a circus somewhere near here.” You tell him absently, both of you watching the television set as you pick at the carpet.

“Heard somethin’ about that. Gus O’Malley’s renting his south pasture out for something like that, I think.”

“I was thinking I could maybe borrow the car Saturday. Take Georgie.”

Georgie is an accident; an anniversary celebration turned rambunctious fifth grader with a knack for messing with your stuff while you’re at work. But he’s a cute kid, you’ll give him that. The little booger is fun to be around sometimes.

With Georgie around, there’s something to do other than head out of town and drink or smoke or spend the money that’s supposed to get you to California. If you take Georgie, Fred usually sponsors the trip.

“This Saturday?”

“Yeah. Figured they’d be running by then.” You lean your palms back into the rug, worn velvet under them. It doesn’t bother you that Fred barely turns his head from the television — before that, it had been the sports highlights in the paper.

“If you’re going to get him all hopped up on sugar, do me a favor and drop him off at Grandma’s on the way back.” Fred chortles, mostly to himself, as he brings a half-warm Budweiser to his mouth.

You smile at that, remembering the days Fred threatened to do the same to you. You grab at the knee of his faded blue jeans to push yourself up from the ground.

“Thought I might drop him off by the interstate, set him free. Like God intended.” You tell the house, headed for the hallway with the end goal being your bedroom on the second floor of the humble blue craftsman.

“I-59, not I-75. Can’t have him finding his way home.” Fred calls as you take the first step out onto the stairs, your fingers trailing your work bag, discarded onto the chipped wooden post that ends the railing.

“Now where in God’s name did you find those shorts?” Oh, she’s awake. Your mother’s voice is behind you, and if you had to guess you would imagine that her head is poking around the doorway into the kitchen and gawking at your fashion choices. She is.

“You went out wearing those?”

You stand, frozen on the stairs for a second, stuck in a moment of consideration. Fred’s pretending not to hear all this, he prefers not to get involved. Joan’s not so forgiving.

Turning around will mean a certain lecture.

“Gotta be up early, I won’t wear ‘em again.” You decide, hastening up the stairs before she can call you on your lie. Your bare feet hit the landing and slip a bit on the loose runner your dad swears he’s going to remember to buy underlay for one of these days.

As you steady, the door to your right creeks open and Georgie stumbles out of his cowboy-covered bedroom, rubbing uncaringly at his eye socket.

“Hey.” He yawns, heading for the bathroom, his hand-me-down pyjamas hanging down over the tops of his feet as he shuffles for the bathroom.

“Hey. Wanna do something with me Saturday?” You ask him, already headed for your own room. He stops and turns his head, eyes no longer heavy with sleep but wide open with curiosity.

“Yeah. What?”

“It’s a surprise.” You decide, twisting the handle and letting the door creak open wide as muscle-memory guides your hand to the lightswitch and illuminates your bedroom. It’s not really a surprise, but he won’t go back to bed if you tell him now. “Night, Georgie.”

“Goodnight!” He calls back, closing the bathroom door almost all the way. The light bulb’s still out and he’s still scared of the dark.

You close your bedroom door, shutting all of them out and immediately reaching for the ties of your halter top. They fall loose and you shimmy out of the fabric, then the shorts.

Flowered paper on the walls, hardwood floors, this room is filled with the remnants of the little girl you once were in here. The shag rug and the Janis Joplin print above the bed are evidence of the newer, cooler woman who now occupies the space. The two of you coexist in this little space just fine most days.

Next comes the quest for a shirt to sleep in — sleeping in the nude doesn’t work when you have a Mom like Joan. She means well, you’re grateful for her. She’s the first person you’ll thank when you get your first award. Even though she still comes in without knocking.

Shirt acquired, you hear Georgie’s door click shut down the hallway as you scan the room for the book you discarded last night.

The window in your room faces miles of fields. In the far distance, you’ve never really noticed that you can see the O’Malley farm. Well, kind of. Ahead of that, there’s a small dusting of forest that hinders your view.

Your search for the book comes to a brief stop as you turn towards the open window and look out over the view. More specifically, of the red and white glint of weatherproof canvas that comes to a sharp point, dazzled with lightbulbs.

“Did you see what your daughter came home in?” Joan asks, shaking her head from her seat at the sewing machine. It whirs impolitely over the conversation, seeing blue thread through the hole in the knee of Georgie’s blue jeans.

“Sure did.” Fred drops his beer into the trash with a clang and rolls his shoulders back. He turns towards her, already expecting the worried frown he sees.

“People’ll talk.”

“Let ‘em,” Fred shrugs. He considers another Budweiser, but knows he’s got to be up early to get to the factory in the morning. “She’s a smart girl, she’s not out causing any trouble.”

Joan stops the machine and hums in consideration.

“Besides, I’m sure it’s a right of passage — wearing stuff that makes your folks’ blood pressure go crazy.”

She smiles, pushing up from the chair. Her socks pad across the green and yellow linoleum until she reaches her husband, her head tucking into the crook of his neck.

“You’re right. But I don’t like those shorts.” Joan decides as her husband takes her into his arms, smoky smelling and familiar.

Behind them, the morning’s paper sits discarded with only the sports section disrupted. Printed in an appropriately black ink, is the freckled face of Audrey Weiss. Her large-round glasses are still sitting on the bridge of her nose, her shoulders are angled and she’s beaming, looking front and centre. Above her portrait, the word MISSING is in the same shade of mourning-appropriate black ink.

That was a school photo. It’s old, her bangs have grown out already. Her round glasses are all torn up now, shattered and mangled — about 200 yards from her broken body, which is yet to be discovered in an empty stretch of red-dirt land off of a highway in southern Arizona.

NEXT CHAPTER

TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT

tags: tags: @sunflowercharlie13 @spinning-away @eloquentdreamer @a-reader-and-a-writer @breezyweazybeezy @mel119g @blaircharlotte @hersuitisbanana @aragorn-02 @one-sweet-gubler @chrysalismuh @xzyzycxdd @atarmychick007 @ximehs @ah9242 @gleefulleve @nnatel @topherwrites @princesskreator @seitmai @d0main-expansion @yepyeahuhhuh @cherrycola27 @ohtobeleah @roosterbruiser

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #jake seresin #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #Jake seresin x reader #Jake seresin x you #Jake seresin au

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keirawantstocry · 1 month

Note

Ramon realizing that if tubbo is dating his dads then tubbo is technically also his dad. But he already saw tubbo as a brother so now he's having a crisis over his family tree

poor guy 😔

Ramon stood in front of Tubbo with a nasty expression on his face. “You can't date my dads.”

“Why?”

“HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF YOUR FRIEND STARTED DATING YOUR DAD?” Ramon signed furiously.

Tubbo laughed. “Okay, okay I get it dude. But I hate to break it to you, I don't think your dads would LET me break up with them. They're very pushy.”

Ramon crossed his arms, pouting. Uncrossing his arms, he signed, “You're like an older brother to me you can't be one of my dads.”

“I never said I was one of your dads,” Tubbo said. “I can still be your older brother.”

Ramón squinted at him. “That doesn't make any sense.”

“Not a single family unit on this island made sense,” Tubbo said with a laugh. “I'm pretty sure Roier had a wife and a husband at the same time? Phil has like a goddess wife and she's not Chayanne or Tallulah's mom. Missa is their other parent. Just cause parents are in a thing doesn't mean their kids have to follow that you know same line of thinking.”

Ramon blinked at him. “I guess that makes sense,” he signed slowly. He narrowed his eyes. “But I still don't like that you're dating my dads. That's weird.”

“You love me,” Tubbo teased, reaching out to ruffle Ramon's hair.

Ramón huffed but he didn't push him away. Instead he leaned into the touch until he was falling into Tubbo, headbutting him in the gut. Tubbo stumbled laughing, shoving at the young boy’s shoulders.

“Don't try and shove me. I could beat your ass.”

“You'd beat a child?” Ramin signed, raising both eyebrows in an exaggerated look of surprise.

Tubbo shoved at his shoulder lightly. Ramon fake stumbled back. “Owwww,” he groaned, falling to the ground. “You hurt me,” he said, his voice sounding crackly with disuse. “You hurt a child. What is wrong with you?”

Tubbo groaned, kneeling next to him. “I didn't do shit. That was you.”

“No, it wasn't,” Ramon signed, still flat against the ground. “You're mean and I'm telling my dads on you.” He leaped up with ease and ran.

“Hey!” Tubbo shouted, holding back a laugh. “Don't you dare. I'm gonna get you, you little asshole!”

#qsmp #my writing #fanfiction #q!tubbo #poly morning crew #qsmp ramón #qsmp shipping #fitpacbo #im on a ROLL todayyy

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shankschewtoy · 1 year

Note

can I have a shy yet a very good drawer GN!Reader who still hasn’t confessed their feelings X Law, Sanji, and Zoro?

Much platonic love And a happi day/night to you! ✨😀

a/n - awww this is so cute anon 💜💜 much love to you as well :)

Warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, none

- Zoro is on the shyer side as well, so you both can enjoy some pretty comfortable silences (he’s sleeping)

- he won’t ever admit it.. but he really likes it when you just sit by him while he trains just to keep him some company

- he wouldn’t enjoy anyone else but you, you’re like a little anchor for him to remind him that someone’s always there for him

- you’re an artist, he knows that VERY well. He’s peeked at a couple of your sketches of chopper and Robin, let’s just say he’s very impatiently waiting for his

- pls you ended up sketching Sanji first and he saw that and almost crumpled it up

- didn’t want to ruin or waste your beautiful talent tho

- one day, when he was training, you saw him lifting his weights per usual, swinging his katana, as well as squat jumping and all that

- he looked- unusually perfect today (not that he didn’t before) but- his expression, as well as his figure was almost picturesque

- you started sketching almost immediately, not even knowing your hand could move that fast. You were scribbling so intensely that the lead broke several times, much to your disdain

- “Y/n can you hand me the towel.”

- ….

- “Hello?????”

- he ended up walking over there while you were entranced in your drawing, finally finishing a rough sketch of the quite beautiful “model” zoro

- he saw it and had trouble keeping his jaw from dropping

- he walked back in front of you, surprising you when he threw an eraser at your forehead to snap you out of it

- “Look, this pose is better right?”

- you closed your sketchbook almost immediately.

- oh shit, he saw it

- “make sure my biceps look big please.”

- “I’M NOT A FREELANCER.”

- Law is a man of very few words, and when he speaks they’re almost always very negative or pessimistic

- but he can never seem to say anything negative about you or else I’d beat his ass

- he knows you’re an artist, and that you mainly just like to draw in your alone time, it’s a nice private activity

- mans a stalker

- will literally find the perfect window to your room just to take a peek at your drawings

- why are they all of Bepo and not him

- EVEN SHACHI GOT A DRAWING? TF?

- stormed off like a little baby 💀

- as you can see, he doesn’t get jealous easily

- he hasn’t confessed to you, but it was extremely obvious to the entire crew…

- you two always had tea together in the morning, sat together in down time, went over plans, and even talked normally together (which he literally never does)

- but- you’re lowkey oblivious asf so you don’t pick up the cues 🥰

- you two were drinking tea together, bright and early as he read the newspaper, and you took out your sketchbook

- the rays of sun coming through the tinted windows of the polar tang lit up his tan, cool toned skin perfectly

- he didn’t have his hat on to cover any of his scraggly features. The bags under his eyes, his intense gray eyes, sharp jawline, goatee, everything about him was accentuated in the light

- you started to draw this very bigass crush of yours in the most detailed way possible

- the silence was almost too peaceful for Law, part of him wanted to initiate a normal conversation, maybe- “how are you today?” But the poor guy was too nervous to talk around you

- he peeked over your shoulder to see you furiously adding details to his drawing

- damn he looked good- did he look like that????

- man thought he was so ugly 💀

- hey maybe let’s give y/n a compliment right? That’s the normal thing to do!

- he had a tint of pink on his cheeks, and couldn’t think of anything to say other than, “Why are my eye bags so big.”

- law 💀

- GOD FUCKING DAMMIT I DIDN’T MEAN TO SAY THAT - law having and existential crisis

- Corazon be disappointed up in heaven 💀

- “because you have ginormous eyebags???”

- …

- watch him wear concealer now 😭😭😭

a/n - I loved this an ungodly amount lmao

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tiredofthehumanlife · 2 months

Text

A happy home (realizations pt 2)

Title looks like a Midwest emo song name dude 🙏give me strength

Barbie dolls: Jegulus x reader (James, Regulus, Your punk ass).

Words: 2.4k ish

Summary: Reggie is all like muh I don’t deserve love I’m just a poor peasant boy then he’s all like muh i should ignore all my friends bc I’m just a poor boy from the bourgeoisie and then you and James are like no 🥺 pookie and then hilarity ensues

Warnings: it's kinda angsty but it ends happy trust, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of Remus' dick, Harry Potter possibly mentioned, James has a mustache for about three sentences, regulus is all emo, its alright guys first one waa better ngl

Pt 1

After you and James used the classic kiss & run technique on Regulus, his mind was swamped with questions. Baby Black was having yet another crisis. Barty and Pandora had started a tally board marking up all his catastrophes. He was somewhere around the double digits at this point. Regulus wanted love, as any poor emo poetry loving teenager, but he felt he didn’t deserve love. He wanted. He wanted so much. Regulus wanted a house with a screeching screen door. He wanted a wrap around porch. He wanted beautiful tiles in his bathroom. He wanted nick nacks. A cluttered home is a house full of love and life. He wanted color in his home. Regulus’ parents’ house (attention to house not home) was cold. Regulus wanted a home. He thought of it frequently, planning the decor and colors. He would go to his little home in his head for comfort. After panic attacks he found himself pressed into a rocking chair, sitting on his wrap around porch and staring out at the beautiful garden in the backyard. His book open in his lap, his favorite pen between his fingers, tracing over his initials. Next to his chair was a small table with a mug full of his favorite tea.

With the more time he spent with you and James, he felt his fantasy home adapt. Suddenly when he visited he found your sweater flung over the back of his couch, James’ pictures on the wall. Which he could accept. Friends left their things at each others’ homes all the time. Friends made it onto each other’s walls frequently. He could handle your friendship infiltrating his home. Regulus appreciated you both no matter how much he threatened to kill you. It was his love language.

Regulus seemed to pull away. Suddenly you never saw him in the library, he didn't appear next to you, he didn't even hang out with Sirius and the others. He was actively avoiding you both. You tried to pretend you were wrong and just making things up. You knew it was true after you saw him in the Gryffindor commonroom again.

But after you both kissed him, granted on the cheek, he malfunctioned. Regulus’ home changed rapidly. He was rocking in chair again, following the vines of the tomato plants with his eyes. His train of thought interrupted by the squeals of a small child. Regulus wondered what on earth was a child doing in his fantasy home. A small boy, no older than three or four, ran around the corner of Regulus’ porch. His little bare feet stomping on the wood. Regulus felt himself smile like nature. The boy was decked in jean overalls, a red shirt underneath. A small truck printed on the shirt was peaking out from under the edge of the overalls. He looked like James, Regulus realized. The boy heard louder footsteps following after him and squealed louder. The boy jumped into Regulus’ arms muttering something about ‘papa’. Regulus looked up from the boy to see James. Though now he had grown out his mustache, and wore matching overalls with the boy. James scooped the boy out of Regulus’ arms. James pecked Regulus’ cheek before dropping the three year old back to his feet. He ran off, zooming around the garden patches. James quickly went after him. James raced after the boy. They both laughed. The boy squealed when James caught him and tickled him. Regulus tore his eyes away when he felt someone touch his shoulder. He found you sitting next to him, in a matching rocking chair. You moved your hand up to his hair. You looked older, like James, not by much but enough for Regulus to know you all had left Hogwarts. You kissed Regulus on the lips gently. He felt warm. You leaned closer and leaned into his ear. You whispered to him that you loved him. Regulus felt his eyes prick with tears and his throat dry. You stood up and took his mug off the table. You walked away muttering about him drinking so much tea people will think you’re dehydrating him like a raisin.

It was change. Regulus didn’t like change and he didn’t like identifying his feelings. He couldn’t like you and he couldn’t like James. You were in a relationship. He can’t. He couldn’t. But he wanted. Regulus knew he wasn’t ever good at controlling his wants. So he avoided you and James. Regulus knew if he made eye contact he’d fall all over again. If he fell his heart home would be crushed. Regulus had to protect his home.

Regulus was sitting with Sirius. They were both talking and laughing comfortably. It was one of the few times you've seen Regulus without his journal in front of him. He caught sight of you standing at the steps of the Gryffindor commonroom. Regulus' smile fell and he quickly stood up. Regulus muttered something to Sirius before swinging his bag over his shoulder. As he breezed past you, you whispered a goodbye. He didn't return it, he didn't make eye contact, he ignored you entirely. Sirius had asked you what that was about but you just left the commonroom as silently as Regulus.

You brought it up with James. He was just as upset as you. The one thing you both feared was making Regulus uncomfortable and that's exactly what you had done. You and James had to have burned your trails into the floors with all your pacing but you decided on what to do. You'd confront him. Even though it seemed all Black relatives hated confrontation it was all you could do. You confront and apologize and beg him to come back to the group. You both missed his insults so much you felt sick. You looked for him everywhere. Days went by before you were finally able to find him. He was hunched over in the library. Regulus was sitting as far away from his regular table as possible. He was scribbling away in his journal, as usual. He glanced up when he noticed people approaching. Regulus quickly shut the journal and went to grab his bag.

"Please." James whispered. James sat in front of Regulus. You sat next to James. Regulus stared at the ceiling before gently letting his bag drop to the floor again. He sat back in his chair and rested his hands on top of his journal. You steeled yourself, clutching James’ hand under the table for support.

“We’re sorry. For everything. We didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. We were just being-“ You paused. You wanted to make everything make sense to Regulus. You needed to explain yourself, you couldn’t live with yourself if you left this thread hanging. “Brainless. We were just trying to harmlessly flirt and we would’ve stopped the second we felt you uncomfortable. We misread you, obviously. We miss you. You’re avoiding us and the rest of our friends. We need you to come back. We’ll leave you alone, we won’t even look at you if that works for you, so long as you come back. So.” You stopped and cleanched your jaw. You felt like you might cry if you kept talking. Though you already seemed to do a lot of that. James dropped your hand to rub your shoulder.

“So, we’re so sorry.” James finished for you. Regulus stayed silent. He looked between you and James. You saw it in his eyes, hatred, disgust, repugnance. You felt sick to your stomach, knowing you’d only see his distaste in his eyes. Never seeing all of Regulus in his eyes again, made your throat close and tears collect in your eyes. You pressed your hand against your mouth, looking away from him. You would not cry in front of him. You would not make Regulus feel like this was his fault. James squeezed your shoulder, moving his soothing hand to your back.

“I’m not good.” Regulus whispered. You quickly looked at him. How could he think that? He was staring down at his journal. Regulus squeezed his own hands, you knew his rings must’ve hurt. Regulus sucked in a sharp breath. “At speaking how I feel. I usually avoid it. I’d rather sit in silence than speak up.” He looked up. His eyes had tears like yours. You hadn’t made eye contact with James since before speaking but you assumed he was probably teary eyed as well. Regulus slid his closed journal to the middle of the table. He stood and pulled his bag over his shoulder. Regulus tapped on the table with his pen twice.

“Just return it.” Regulus whispered before leaving the library. You watched him walk away. You looked to James. Your tears had left leaving behind pure confusion.

“Did we just get told to go fuck our selves in poetry nerd?” You asked James. He looked just as confused as you. He glanced at the journal.

“He did say he’s bad at saying his feelings, maybe he wants us to read his feelings.” You stared down the journal. It was bound in black leather. A small string wrapped around it thrice. It was unsuspecting. You didn’t want to read it though. That felt wrong, going into Regulus’ private brain like that. He was constantly writing. His deepest darkest thoughts, you assumed. You once sneaked a peak at Sirius’ diary and you truly never needed to know in that extreme of detail what Remus’ dick looked like. You looked to James. He stared at you. You pressed your lips together, contemplating. You gently picked up the journal, scared it would shatter under your fingertips. You unwound the string. You pulled the front cover up. You found the first page had Regulus’ initials. You smiled and held it toward James for him to see. He laughed and turned the page. You saw the pages were full of Regulus’ flowing handwriting. Overflowing really. The lines of his poems were pressed up against each other. His letters interning with each other like a lovers hold. If you weren’t already absolutely totally in love with him, you would’ve fallen more looking at his pretty messy letters.

The last poem made you melt entirely. Regulus started speaking of a cold home. All the walls stained with blood and screams. He moved. A nice home with a porch, a reading nook, painted walls, a coat rack, a garden in the back, and you. He moved into a home with his two lovers, their presence sweeping over every inch of the house. There was ding in the doorframe to your shared bedroom, James had pulled a dresser up the stairs and tried to squeeze it through the door. You had painted in small forgotten corners of the house. A sunflower on the side of one of the kitchen drawers, a moon added to the coat rack, a heart on the corner of Regulus’ bedside table. The back door was newer than the rest of the house, James had flung a snowball so hard one winter he shattered the glass. Regulus had started talking of the rocking chairs on the back porch. His sentence fell off, unfinished. You set his journal down, leaning back in your chair. James followed your lead. You both sat in silence for a few minutes. Baby Black liked you both back. Say that 5 times fast. You sighed. You stretched your arms over your head.

“McGonagall did say we needed 20 minutes of reading everyday.” You whispered to James. He nodded and pulled the journal closer between you two. You both held onto it with one hand leaning closer to each other to read Regulus’ writing. You read and read and read and read. Regulus wrote so much he had to get new journals fairly regularly. This journal started a few days before meeting Sirius’ friends. The fast few pages were Regulus stressed with his workload. After that there was the first mention of you. Regulus spent a whole page explaining how gorgeous he found you. He spent another page after talking all about how handsome and beautiful James was. All of which you agreed with.

After that all his pages were dedicated to you two. Slowly as you worked through the pages together, and the candles around you melted, Regulus fell in love. His words were frillier. He spoke of a garden, and tea. Regulus told all about laying in field of flowers. He painted images of you three deep in love and extremely domestic. Regulus wrote of pain. The pain of knowing it could never be reciprocated, you were already with James and James was with you. The pain feeling every touch warm his heart before burning his skin with his own insecurities. He wrote how the kiss situation felt for him. All roses and sunshine until his own sick mind turned it against him, making him think it was all some big joke on him.

“We are really bad at reading people.” James muttered. You gasped and sat forward. Glad somebody said it.

“Right?!? Oh god we just can’t catch a break.” You clicked your tongue. James gently closed Regulus’ journal, wrapping the string around three times. You huffed and stood up. You and James left the Library, it was closing soon anyway. You both decided you had enough time before curfew to go to Regulus.

You returned his journal. Regulus stood in front of you staring and waiting. You and James let it all out. Laughing at your stupidity, apologizing for making him feel like he was some joke even if it was only for a few minutes, and confessing that a wrap around porch and back garden sounded perfect. Regulus was happy. He smiled at you both before telling you curfew was sneaking up behind you. James decided you three would get together and make plans on how to move forward with your relationship on Saturday in the courtyard. Regulus agreed. As you and James were heading off towards your own common rooms, Regulus called your names. He ran over to you from his commonroom door. He quickly kissed your cheek before James’. Regulus skittered off back to his commonroom without a second to spare. You smiled brightly at James. He returned the look. He intertwined your hands, swinging them back and forth. James started skipping down the hall, still holding onto your hand. You joined him. You were both carefree

You didn’t have anything to realize. You already knew you loved them both.

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