#ride a reckless mile

[postercollector1975]

Ride A Reckless Mile 22x28 Movie Poster (1954)

Originally released in 1949 as The Great Dan Patch

Astor Pictures

#poster collector 1975 #ride a reckless mile #the great dan patch #dennis o'keefe #gail russell #ruth warrick #charlotte greenwood #henery hull #john hoyt #astor pictures #movie poster #promotional posters #1950’s #1950’s movies

[ax-killjoy]

☆ you think i’m pretty ??

synopsis ! 𖦹 : things that make them flustered <33

notes ! 𖦹 : school, art block, and writer’s block has been kicking my ASS.

Lo’ak, Kiri, Neteyam x Gn!reader

Lo’ak

It was something simple, something that not even Lo’ak knew he could get flustered by. Yet something just hit him right in the soul, making his heart melt, he felt warm, a blush over this cheeks, up to the tips of his ears.

You had been teaching how to ride an Ilu, yet he was so fustrated. Why couldn’t he get this down ? If this creature was nicer than a Ikran, why couldn’t he ride it ? Irritation coursed through his body, his mind running almost a thousand miles an hour. As he falls yet again into water. The ilu almost laughing at him as it swims away.

He growls in frustration, angrily splashing the water as he wipes his face. “this is bullshit.” Lo’ak mutters, watching as you call for the Ilu again. You chuckle, resting your hand on his shoulder, caressing it slightly with your thumb.

“Don’t worry about it too much. You’ve got all the time in the world to learn this, Prettyboy.” You say ever so casually, petting the ilu and feeding it more fish.

Yet Lo’ak stood frozen, his tail up and his ears perked. “Pretty boy ?”

ﾟ*✩‧₊˚ !!

Kiri

Kiri has NEVER been one to have crushes. She remembers when Jake would talk about growing up with little puppy crushes, and Neytiri would explain about her younger years swooning over the male Na’vi.

But Kiri never really felt that kind of attraction, never felt the need to. She was too busy ! Her reckless brothers always did something stupid, leading her to heal them with her grandmother. Who she bickers with until no end, and she runs around the forest feeling Eywa beneath her feet and in the air, grabbing herbs for future salves. And if she wasn’t doing any of that, she was running around the forest with Tuk.

But now that she moved to Awa’altu, she had all the time in the world it seemed. She sat under water for what seemed like an eternity, staring at the colorful fish and feeding her ilu, staring into sand that hid small crustaceans. Now that she wasn’t busy, she had time to indulge in her feelings, indulge in her feelings for you.

The two of you had been wandering the island all day, it one of those days that neither of you had tasks. Planning this day in advance, making sure to do all the chores just so the two of you could run wild for the rest of the day. And now, it was almost eclipse. The two of you sat in the warm sand, watching as the night and day mixed, making a sweet gradient above. “You know, I could do this with you forever.” You say, and she looks at you. “Do what ?” she asks.

“This. Just being with you, being part of the land. I could do this with you forever.” You say, before looking back at the eclipse. And for the first time, Kiri feels a blush spread across her cheeks. Not a blush out of embarrassment, but a blush of giddiness, puppy love, and hope for the future.

･:* ೫̥♡*

Neteyam

Similar to Kiri, Neteyam was a busy bee. He ran everywhere, constantly doing different tasks and doing anything the people asked for. He was one of the best hunters for his age, constantly going on hunting trips with his father and other adult Na’vi, and coming back just to do more tasks. He sailed the skies and scouted for sky people during Operations, he listened in onto strategies for the War party.

And if there was ever a second that he didn’t have any tasks, he was playing with Tuk. Helping his mom with something, running around with his siblings letting them do whatever stupid things they planned. Only for them to get scolded by their father once they came home. A never ending cycle, a consistent and eventful cycle to say the least.

This was no different, you were another skilled hunter for your age. Jake had tasked both you and Neteyam to hunt together, to see who paired good with who, and to see what two amazing hunters could bring back. What Jake didn’t know is that the two of you made this into a game of tag. Whoever catches who first doesn’t have to carry all of the meat to the village.

Neteyam hid well into the trees, his breath covered by the sounds of strong winds and bustling trees. He had killed 2 animals already, thanked their bodies, and was ready to leave. Now he just had to see where you were to catch you.

Suddenly he hears a branch snap. Before he can turn his head, he feels something flipping him over, and his back hitting the soft soil. He lets out of low groan, he opens his eyes. The sun hitting his eyes, suddenly he saw your face above him. He feels the weight of you straddling him to keep him in place. You giggle and smile mischievously.

“Now you’re mine, tsamsiyu” you say softly, the vibrations of your voice make Neteyam’s ears perk up. Before Neteyam could even open this mouth you jump up laughing, “I won !! now go grab all the meat we got !!!” You cheered before running away.

He gets up, a raging blush runs across his cheeks to each of his ears, his tail swaying sharply. Oh Ewya, what did you do to him ?

ﾟ*✩‧₊˚ !!

Tsamsiyu - Warrior

#avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #sully family #avatar fanfiction #sully family x reader #lo’ak fanfiction #lo’ak oneshot #lo’ak imagine #lo’ak sully #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak te suli tsyeyk’itan #neteyam fluff #atwow neteyam #kiri avatar #kiri sully #kiri sully x reader #neteyam headcanons #lo’ak headcannons

[syrena-del-mar]

An Ode to Older Siblings: New in Dead Friends Forever, Episode 9

Spoilers ahead for Dead Friend Forever Episode 9. Allusions to suicide and all other triggers that have accompanied this show will be here. Tagging @slayerkitty for the DFF Meta compilation.

Can you imagine New, who sacrificed his relationship with his little brother to make it into a university abroad with a scholarship, one that would open opportunities that Thailand did not have to offer him, having to come back on a plane ride? A minimum of 12 hours in a plane, in an airport, packed with people going on business trips and vacations, yet where nobody knows that you're going to back home to a hell that you never could have imagined? It was supposed to be a holiday for him, a chance to see his family again after months of being apart.

But instead, his baby brother was now missing. The same baby brother that had given up on having any semblance of a relationship with him because he felt abandoned, forgotten. His little brother who would find no difference if he was abroad or not, because it's not like Tan had ever paid him any attention when he was so focused on just getting out of their home. But New was trying, extending an olive branch, hoping that Non would accept even the smallest bit of it. He'll bring him the best snacks that England has to offer, he'll listen to any problems that Non may have, even while he's thousands of miles away. But no calls ever came from his little brother's number. No, he hadn't even known that Non had gotten into trouble until his mother called him. Non's missing.

And, now he's returning home. The snacks that he had promised Non probably weighed like a ton of bricks as he carried them, they were his burden to carry. Maybe if he had been there a little more for Non, had been a little bit more present, maybe Non would have reached out. Maybe he wouldn't have had to turn to his tutor. His home is broken, but it's still a home. He's the oldest, he's the one that has to repair it when his parents can't.

He knows his mom had mentioned Non's boyfriend in passing before, even though Non had never told him directly. So he had searched through Non's belongings, looking for his number, hoping that Phee might have more information. He's doesn't, they're both at a loss. Maybe Phee didn't know Non as well as he thought he did, but New knows his brother. Non was never good with his words, never good at speaking directly of the problems he faced, but he would have left a sign, something, that might show them what demons he was facing alone.

So, he pretends that he can go back to his life in England, pretends for his parents' sake, so they don't have to worry about their only other son. But he can't, not when his little brother is out there...alone, again. He takes a leave of absence from school. Maybe it's crazy, reckless, but he puts himself back in high school. If the cops won't give him answers, then he'll get them himself. He forges his records, pretends that he was Non's same age, changes his identity. He's now Tan. A new kid that just happened to meet Phee at the office on their first day of school. Tan can charm his way into the same friend group that likely destroyed his brother. Tan can dig for the answers that nobody was willing to get.

And Phee helps, maybe he helps a little too much and little too close. For a moment, a part of New's heart breaks for his baby brother, as he sees his boyfriend get close to one of the bastards that had a hand in Non's disappearance. Maybe this is why Non always felt abandoned. So New smokes, one pack turns into hundreds more. A bad habit that he picked up with his English friends as they hit the pubs. It's the only sense of normalcy he has anymore.

He builds a makeshift lab with the money his parents wired him, nothing like the state-of-the-art equipment that he had grown accustomed to at his university, but it was enough. He researches, he experiments with the one concoction that might finally get Non's friends to tell him the truth. He's so close to perfecting it. Then his dad calls, and it feels strange. He rarely talked to his dad, it's his mom that usually calls him. Mom's dead. For a moment, he forgets that he was supposed to be in England, that he was never supposed to be in Thailand. He's not Tan anymore, he's just New. His house isn't just broken anymore, it's crumbling.

His father resents him. He's drunk and he's spitting fire, New can't blame him. Afterall, he is a liar. He lied that he was back at university, back in England. He never visited his mom when they were only miles away from each other and now she's dead as well. Was Non right all those years ago? Does he abandon everyone? He was never his dad's favorite, he knew that, but how he could he go and leave him behind too?

Now there was no broken house, no dilapidated house, no place that he called home. He couldn't fix this anymore. And he's tired, he's so tired. There's nothing for him to salvage anymore. Maybe if he takes a hit of his own concoction, he can end his pain as well. But Non... Non deserves justice and New is so scared, scared of failing him again. He wants this to end, he can't save anyone. But Phee arrives and holds him steady, lets him cling tightly to his shirt like he used to cling to his mother as a child.

Maybe he won't live for himself anymore. This all started with the bastards who were supposed to be his brother's friends. They cost him his whole family. No. he wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of destroying his home, of destroying his baby brother. He once told Non that he would steal his novel, get it sold for other people to read. Maybe it can't be sold anymore, but maybe Non's story can finally be told as Non had wished.

How could New have ever known that getting onto that plane would just be the prelude to the hell that he was about to raise? He's the oldest brother of the family, he was supposed to protect them, take his responsibility for his parents and his baby brother, but he failed. His dad was right, he wasn't a good enough son or brother, but maybe this could be the start of his atonement.

#dead friend forever #dff the series #dff ep 9 #dff spoilers #dead friend forever spoilers #dff tan #dff new #barcode tinnasit #ta nannakun #mio athens #is this meta? #character analysis #idk its a weird hybrid #dead friend forever meta #dead friend forever character analysis #im also writing up an actual meta of the family but my heart breaks for New #dff meta #dff character analysis #Athens swerapat #mio athens swerapat

[kairismess]

you know who ive been thinking over lately? lev😉. sooooo do you think you can write something about shy reader finally building up the courage to ask him out since he’s never caught her “subtle hints” (she stares at him…) then taking him to what you think his favorite type of date would be? love ya!

HI LOVELYYYYYY omg CUTEEEEEEEEE @zdenque this is for u too bbg :3 ⭐

you mean it? – lev haiba x fem!reader

🏐 genre: fluff !

🖋️ word count: 906

💗 special mentions: @zdenque @xoxo-cha

he always had the tendency to catch your eye, and how couldn't he? standing at 6'5 with ash colored hair, and those tantalizing emerald eyes you couldn't not stare into every time he was near. he such a contagious smile, one that tickled you in the way that you'd be smiling for the rest of the day if you saw his grin–he was just that adorable.

you weren't exactly the bold type, but you did have a very expressive heart that beat a mile a minute, or stopped beating whenever you'd hear his voice or he'd give you friendly pats or touches. and though you weren't one to make the first move, you couldn't help but keep your gaze on him as he jumps up to spike or block–or even just smile and be his jolly, kind of goofy, self.

you loved lev haiba, and it sucked how you could never tell him.

you always worried you'd be too obvious or too clingy, but those concepts never occurred to the boy–he was just glad to have such a caring, loving friend like you; even if that said friend yearned for a more intimate connection with him, something that gave rewarded all the endless affection and adoration you had for him. ultimately, after months of harboring this secret crush on him, you finally took your first step, and... told him in one, swift breath:

"iloveyoulev."

the silver-haired boy stared at you with a neutral expression, his gaze unmoving as you got even more hot in the face, avoiding his stare even more as he laughed a little at your confession, not realizing it was a serious one; because how could someone as cute and gentle as you like someone as reckless and dense as him? "hah, okay, what a funny joke, you really had me there, though! who knew you could look so adorably flustered on command?" he asked you in between giggles, pinching your cheeks and smiling wider.

your gaze was casted downwards as you muttered that, no, it wasn't a joke—you really did love him, so, so much. you always have.

the boy stared at you with a smile frozen on his face, and all of a sudden, your words sunk in; your bashful demeanor at the moment reflected just how true your feelings were... and it finally hit him, after months of you secretly pining for him and dropping hints like crazy—lev haiba understood, in that moment, that the girl of his dreams fell for him. and he couldn't believe a single bit of it.

the smile on his face widened a little, his eyes growing wide as well as he stared at you and blushed like crazy; he looked like a strawberry, one you just wanted to sink your teeth into. you called out his name in a stutter, not meeting his eyes, hoping he wouldn't be too boisterous about it, because if the rest of the team knew, you'd melt. but instead, lev wrapped his arms around you and pulled you a little closer, awkwardly hugging you by instinct.

he chuckled lightly and whispered in your ear, "i... i really love you, too. wow, it, uh...how long have you—" "f-for... several months now—" "months?!" he exclaimed loudly, perking his head up in surprise, blushing tenfold. he couldn't believe that the girl he had been so smitten with, ever since the day he laid eyes on her and shared that first awkward, yet unforgettable, conversation with her actually loved him. he chuckled even more and pulled away, smiling from ear-to-ear.

"c-can i be your boyfriend now...? i-i wanna do all those cutesy couple things with you... l-like go to fairs with you, give you piggyback rides wh-when you're tired, a-and even let you borrow my clothes! i'd let you sleep on me on the ride home, j-just... b-be my girlfriend... and i'll love you the best i can." lev promises as he gets on one knee, barely leveling with you since his height was so massive, but that didn't matter at the moment—what mattered right now was that lev finally had a chance with the most perfect girl in the world... and he wasn't going to let you go from his grasp, not when he wants to try his hand at making you feel so happy and loved.

he takes your smaller hands in his own, and he's shaking; his hands are warm, a little coarse, much wider than you're own—but he's shaking with anxiety and excitement. he wants you to be his first girlfriend, and he wants you to be the most loved person in his life right now. he wouldn't rush you, but... he can't help himself; he's too hung up on the high of love and the feeling of loving you that he can't control himself and take things slow, when he can be the best boyfriend for you if you'd just say the word.

"please... think it through, but... know that i'm right here if you ever decide. i... i love you. so, so, so much!" he exclaims, the crack in his voice becoming increasingly obvious as his ears and nose tinge red and pink, his eyes glimmering with pure joy and love for you. he knew from the start you'd be the one for him, and now, he wants to be the one for you—what do you say to your new, lovesick sweetheart?

#lev haiba #lev x reader #lev haiba x reader #lev haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu lev #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons

[mmyrrhh]

Eyes on the road

Summary: A car ride with your favourite lieutenant.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 648

Notes:

Fluff

Mr. Riley strikes me as the kind of person who will listen to country music while driving and tapping the steering wheel rhythmically in the process.

My sideblog got shadowbanned so I’ll be posting my fics here until the issue gets resolved (if it gets resolved).

————————————————————————

You’ve been driving for two hours straight, and the silence between you grows longer as the miles pass. Despite your efforts to engage him in conversation, he appears content to remain silent, responding only with brief, cryptic remarks.

“Where are we going?”

“That’s confidential information.”

“How long until we arrive?”

“We’ll get there when we get there.”

Touché.

He was deep in thought, with his right hand steady on the steering wheel and his left arm resting casually on the open window. He had an air of confidence about him, seemingly able to take control of anything that life may throw his way; missions, injuries, cars, you. Oh boy, the power he has over you.

Every time he had to shift gears, he did with such poise and grace, releasing the wheel but securing it with his thigh so it wouldn’t drift away. You watched him every time he did that, anticipating the moment he’d place his hand on you instead.

His mask obscures his face, but you know there is concealed road rage lurking beneath. Now and then, a reckless driver would surpass you, and he would mutter a curse under his breath as his gaze followed the car. Other times, he would instinctively put his hand in front of you, inches away from your chest, acting as a human seatbelt.

Inches away...

The scenery is, well, nothing: an endless expanse of dirt, as far as the eye can see. And with the quiet between you, the boredom begins to set in. You figured a little music would lighten up the mood, maybe even spark a discussion of some sorts. You turn on the radio, shuffling through the stations until you find one that works. You turn up the volume and turn your attention back on the road. Ghost doesn’t comment on your action but has a lot to say about your taste in music.

“It’s shite,” he mutters under his mask.

“It’s the only one that works,” you comment back.

“It’s still sh*t,” he repeats.

“We don’t have any other option, Lieutenant.”

“There’s always another option, soldier,” he explains. “In this case, you could always turn it off.”

Is this an order or a suggestion? Better go with the safe option. You move your hand towards the radio button, but he catches it mid-air, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

“Don’t; let it play if you like it,” he whispers, his eyes still focused on the road, “my preferences should never dictate yours.”

In that moment of unexpected kindness, you turn to look at him.

You become immediately drawn to his profile and begin to examine any characteristic you can distinguish beneath his balaclava.

His brows appear sparse and washed out; is that genetic or permanent damage from a fire? His dark brown eyes are half-closed, emitting a sense of melancholy; that, or he’s tired from all the driving. He suddenly lets out an audible sigh. Your eyes travel to his lips; you can distinguish a faint outline through the stretched fabric. His Adam’s apple moves with vigour every time he swallows. His collarbone, chest, arms, abd-

“Eyes on the road,” he commands. Shit; caught red-handed once again.

You lightly cough in embarrassment and obey. Neither of you speaks.

As you continue driving down the road, he suddenly takes his hand off the wheel and goes straight for the volume button, turning it up.

You turn to look at him in confusion.

“It’s Johnny Cash,” he explains, shrugging.

“Johnny Cash, huh? Any relation to… John Price?” you quip, trying to lighten the mood.

“You and your fucking jokes,” he says with a hint of a chuckle in his voice.

And with that, the silence between you settles once more. But this time, it’s no longer oppressive, no longer boring. It’s a comfortable silence, with Johnny Cash speaking volumes about you and your lieutenant’s silent bond.

————————————————————————

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader

[special-agent-sass]

Midnight Ride

Y/N revved the engine of her Kawasaki Vulcan 900 as she sped down the empty stretch of highway, the cold night air whipping against her face. With each twist of the throttle, she pushed the bike faster, adrenaline and rage coursing through her veins.

The needle on the speedometer edged past 100 mph. She knew she was being reckless, but she didn't care. The danger made her feel alive, made her forget everything else. Forget the past, forget the pain. Out here it was just her and the road.

The headlight cut a narrow beam through the darkness as she leaned into the curves, expertly controlling the rumbling machine beneath her. She had no destination, only the need for speed to quiet her restless mind. The events of the day replayed in a relentless loop - the latest heated argument with Gibbs over her recklessness, the biting comments meant to cut deep, the frustration boiling over yet again.

She knew he only lectured her because he cared, but his stubbornness and overprotectiveness felt suffocating. Needing an escape, she had stormed out, hopped on her bike, and pointed it toward the open road.

Miles flew past in a blur, but still her thoughts churned. She resented Gibbs for trying to tame her wild spirit, even as she felt the undeniable pull between them - a volatile chemistry neither would acknowledge, dancing around the sparks that flew whenever they were near. His rare smiles made her pulse race, while his criticisms stung more than from anyone else.

Caught up in her thoughts, Y/N failed to notice the familiar pair of headlights gaining on her until they flashed urgently. Cursing under her breath, she reluctantly slowed and pulled over onto the gravel shoulder. She didn't need to look back to know whose black sedan now idled behind her.

Gibbs approached, his face etched with concern and frustration. "Just what the hell did you think you were doing?" he demanded.

"I was fine," Y/N fired back defensively. "I've been riding since I was twelve and I know how to handle a bike."

"Like hell you do! I clocked you going over 100mph. You trying to get yourself killed?"

Y/N clenched her fists, getting off the bike to face him, refusing to back down. "Why do you even care? I'm just some reckless adrenaline junkie to you, right?"

Gibbs stepped closer, his stern expression softening. “You know that’s not true,” he muttered. "That stunt was dangerous and stupid, but only because I can't lose you." His voice dropped to nearly a whisper. "I was scared, Y/N. Scared I wouldn't reach you in time."

Y/N froze, stunned. She searched Gibbs' face and saw the sincerity in his eyes. Her anger melted away. "I didn't mean to worry you. I just...I needed to clear my head."

Gibbs lifted his hand to her cheek. "I know. But you have to stop running from things."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. Before she could respond, his lips were on hers, firm and insistent. After a moment of shock, she returned the kiss hungrily, releasing all the desire and frustration that had been simmering below the surface.

They broke apart, breathless. Gibbs rested his forehead against hers.

"Rule twelve be damned," he murmured. "I don't want to waste any more time pretending I'm not in love with you."

Y/N blinked back the sting of tears, overwhelmed by the admission. No longer uncertain, she pulled Gibbs close again, surrendering to the passionate embrace under the moonlight. The empty highway faded away until all that existed was the two of them and the truth laid bare.

Whatever the next day held, they would face it together, side by side. Y/N knew that his love was worth risking it all - even her stubborn heart.

#gibbs x reader #gibbs x y/n #jethro gibbs #jethro gibbs imagine #leroy jethro gibbs #ncis gibbs

[xstarkillerx]

YES YES YES i know Relive that last mile again, i adore it too 😭

And I've also been fantasizing about that scene from Crash, but with Dom driving on the highway at night, while Brian is in the backseat, you riding him, back to him, facing the road ahead, hands on each front seat, your face close to Dom's, panting. You can see Dom's hand clenching the handbrake as he speeds up, his fly open, the top of his fat cock caressing the steering wheel, and it makes you go faster, jumping on Brian's dick as he grabs your hips for dear life, moaning and whimpering loudly along the noise of the busy road..

RTLM is def a huge favourite of mine eeeeeee!!!

FOSSE OH MY FUCKING GOD, you dirty, dirty mind I can't tell you how obsessed with this I am jesus fucking christ. And you know it's gotta be the fucking charger too.

"You can see Dom's hand clenching the handbrake as he speeds up, his fly open, the top of his fat cock caressing the steering wheel, and it makes you go faster,"

This right here, this was it for me, I lost my mind it's so good. Now, I don't know what your opinion is on the whole "daddy" thing, but with Dom already being this pseudo father figure to everyone he meets, this whole thing just screams "daddy" to me, in the same way Brian, at the ripe age of 27, just screams boyish charm. It's just like Dom to be the patient one, the one who can stand to keep his hands off of you for the 20 minutes it takes to drive home from wherever the fuck you guys are coming from. It's Brian that's impatient, Brian who's still reckless on the road., he hasn't seen just how bad things can turn yet. Brian who doesn't mind not wearing a seatbelt if it means getting his dick wet because he knows you're in Dom's capable hands, he's the one who's spent his life hastily wriggling out of his jeans in the back of cars with pretty girls anyway, he's right at home.

I love love love the detail about Dom being hard in his open jeans just UGHHHh so good!!!!! Because, for as patient as he is, there's always something boiling under the surface, fear, anger, grief, and right now it's lust. His knuckles are white. Regardless of if you two can come up for air long enough to know this, he's been hard for about an hour now, long before you two even left the party. Dom is such a little voyeur in that way, you know? Just completely happy to watch the two prettiest people in Los Angeles dry fuck on the dance floor knowing it's all for him. He lets you two have your fun, he'll get his turn in private, but he admits; It's hard to keep his eyes off the rear view with your breath in his ear and sounds you're dragging out of Brian. He's loud, a whiner, a groaner, a moaner, and the type to say he wants to hear you if you aren't loud enough, so Dom keeps it fast, window closed so no one can hear you, but really he just wants the car to smell like sex.

Fosse, fosse, fosse I love your dirty mind, you're really out here feeding us. Thank's for your patience with me getting to this, I've been hoarding it like a leperchaun with gold

#donnie does 👑 #brian o'conner smut #dominic toretto smut #fast and furious smut #fast & furious smut #fast & furious #brian o'conner #dominic toretto

[parkermunson]

Siren!Eddie Part 3

1 / 2

summary: You want to find your new friend a shell but on the walk to find one, you fall. Cleaning the wound off in the ocean seems like a good idea, unless there's a starving siren in the water. Luckily, he's more interested in keeping you alive.

t/w: Mentions of blood/open wound a lot. Eddie licks reader (not sexually), poor self-confidence thoughts

a/n: I am so in love with this series, it brings me so much joy to write. I love little golden retriever Siren!Eddie but I also wanted to portray his actual siren nature. So this chapter shows that. And don't follow in Reader's footsteps. She's reckless. Here's the longest fic I've written so far!!! [3.6k words]

The warm wind of the afternoon rushed between your legs as you stood at the surface of splashing water. The pocket your hand rested in, previously home to the gifted shells from your newest 'friend', now storage for the little bits of sand remnants that fell from the shells. They prick your fingers, but it somehow feels nice. Like it's proof that you didn't imagine another person actually sitting in the water after all these years.

The water was empty aside from the little fish taking in the heat from the shoreline sand. He seemed to disappear in the time you left for lunch. Though, you're sure you never saw anyone like him walking around the streets from your house. Your house only separated from the little walkway to the beach by a street meant you could keep an eye on the visitors. Maybe he swam to another shore around the rocks. He seemed to love being in the water!

He was so odd, finding solace in the one thing the town seemed to fear. Perhaps he didn't know the tales of the hundreds of missing people, the sightings and sounds of something not quite human, but not quite fish. He seemed lonely with how he acted toward you. The gifts but lack of words, the inability to maintain eye contact. If he was scared, he would've left, but he didn't. Shy, that's what he was. He didn't know you. As far as he was concerned, you bothered him.

You needed to give him a reason to trust you!

The town you lived in was small, but had beaches galore. The one outside your house was closed in, high rocks separating it from other openings to the water. No doubt the guy had picked up every shell to exist in or out of the water there. So another beach nearly opposite your's was possibly unexplored by him. It was a distance away, a mile or so, with uneven ground on the path in between. Little shore towns like this are adamant they stick with their history, and that always means keeping the rocky footpaths that only get worse with age.

Riding your bike on the street would've been a better option, had it not been so hot, steam could be seen rising off the surface. Your rusty old bike would melt, knowing your luck.

Your sandals slid and flopped against the porous surface of the rocks. These rocks were probably here for thousands of years, before humans even lived on the land. Now they were merely a guide to your next destination. The blinding white of the worn rock contrasted the deep grays of the spots where rain would gather in tiny pools. Tiny pebbles gathering in the crevices, like small offspring. One pebble, about a third the size of your palm caught your eye. It was dotted with holes, white playing against black in a poke-a-dot battle of color. The texture was something to behold, like the scallop shell you were given. A perfect exchange.

The rock bounced in your pocket with each uneven step. The sun above was relentless, but the tall trees surrounding you on each side of the path provided enough shade to keep only a light sweat blooming from your skin. Sounds of water sloshing against land grew louder as you approached the shore, but the heat hit harder here. You cursed yourself for not bringing a bottle of water. The dryness of your mouth irked you as you imagined the cool waves clearly in your mind. Your feet couldn't carry you fast enough to feel the force of the chilly water as a release from the sun.

In the distance you could hear voices from the shops a few blocks away along the main street that circled the little town, like a barrier between the houses and water. Ice cream shops, restaurants, little boutiques. After your search, you'll have to stop at the ice cream parlor for a sweet, cold snack. For now, the shore lay ahead, the waves pushing and pulling against the golden sand– a welcome and a dismissal curled into one.

You finally reached the last step. The anticipation clouding your judgement as your sandal met rock but slid sideways on the unbalanced object. The skin of your knee kissed the sharp edge and you landed with one leg curled beneath you, the other awkwardly stretched in front of you. The scratch across your skin was felt long before you saw it. It pulsed with pain, buzzing incessantly against your muscle. It was more annoying than painful, and only soured your mood further. You sat there for a moment, gathering breath before finding your balance on your feet and assessing the damage. The scrape wasn't too deep, but ran along your mid-calf up to your knee. The skin was open and flushing with blood attempting to scab over. Small drops of crimson bubbling from the wound and starting to drip. You brushed a hand over it, attempting to flick off any little pebbles and specks of dirt. The blood smeared across your skin, shining against it in a crimson stroke. You sighed, further aggravated at your now dirty leg, before continuing your walk. The water would help clean it off.

He twiddled his webbed thumbs as he assessed his collection. Your reaction to his shells weren't telling in your preferences. He had given shiny and matte, textured and smooth. Different colors. Different shapes. You reacted the same to each. Maybe a conch would gain a better reaction, or a starfish. After all, these were his favorite of his collection and he cherished them. He wouldn't part with them unless it was for you. For you, he would give the ocean, his home. Just by hearing your voice, he was a goner. You would most likely never accept him, but he was your's. His first and only human. His... friend.

For a while after you left, he played your words in his head over and over like a trance. Questioning the meaning, the sounds, the way your lips moved around each word. He needed to see you again. The desire just to listen to you speak was enough to keep hopeful in his lonely, desolate life. Eventually you would stop talking, waiting for an answer that would never come from him, but for now you seemed satisfied with his presence.

The starfish was long dead, white with long spiked legs. The legs twisted in different directions. Had it not been found on land, the creature would have been eaten by now. But it's once slimy body was a solid shell now, even in water. He held it up to the sunrays sparkling against the water's surface a few yards above him. This was perfect, at least two visits worth, if not more. But he'll bring more shells to the next one, just in case.

As he studied the skeleton in his hand, the scent hit him like a wall. It was far. Miles. But it's a scent that hasn't graced his nose in what felt like centuries. Blood. Human blood.

His pupils grew large, nearly devouring the brown iris surrounding them. He was hungry now. An insatiable hunger he hasn't been able to curve in so long. The shell drops from his grip, long forgotten while his true nature takes over. He's swimming toward the scent faster than he's ever gone before. The teeth crowding his mouth ache with the anticipation, his fingers clenching so deep in his palms the sharp nails pierce his skin. He can't feel it, not when his brain has already pinpointed the exact location of his meal.

As he dives past the shore you would meet him, he can smell your scent. At first he thinks it's just a lingering thought of you held by the water, until he feels the small vibrations in his chest. You're in the water, just not here. It nearly knocks him out of the trance, but the scent of blood is stronger as he nears land. He rushes around the curves of the sand and rocks, desperately trying to satisfy his overwhelming desire.

The drumming in his chest grew stronger with each mile closer. His heart beating fast enough to drill his ears. The water grew warmer as the sand crept up on the surface of the water, but it did little to stir him. He spotted the crimson dancing in the water, floating around the open wound like an arrow pointing exactly where he wanted. The legs stood knee below the water, hands gliding over the damaged skin attempting to sooth the wound.

His tail shot him toward his intended meal, the hunger uncaring on how close he was to land, and who would see him. A distance away the legs dribbled sweet, luscious blood into the water, unable to clot the wound. His belly twisted with the scent being so close, and he could barely remember himself in the moment. He licked his lips, drawing closer to the legs, reaching a webbed claw out before stopping two yards away.

He knew those legs.

The moment your feet touched the water, instant relief overcame you. The crisp water between your toes, delicately licking your ankles. The water was nudging you further in with each pull of the waves, enough of an invite to abandon your sandals on the shore and walk in up to your knees. It soothed the scratch and brought comfort to your mood. The waves absorbing the strain in your muscles.

Had you not come here for a purpose, you would dive in head first, letting the water devour you in a chilly embrace.

The water on this side was lighter, more clear. It's color around your knees now tainted a purpl-ish with your blood. It flowed in concentric circles with the natural movement of your legs. The idea of being eaten by a creature on this side of the town seemed infinitely worse with how gruesome the water would get.

The clearness meant it was easier to spot the tiny creatures swimming around the floor below. Small fish and crabs scouring to get away from your feet, while some fish, slightly larger, took up their confidence in getting closer to you. You watched as they bobbed back and forth, as though debating the distance. Curious little things, with no concept of danger. Their little fins barely handling the movement of the water.

The bloody water had started blocking the view of your little onlookers. Though you didn't want to scare them away yet, you leaned down and brushed a hand over the wound to clean it off. The fish, now intimidated, disappeared further into the safety of the water. Little specks of dirt and rock began floating around your calf, and the blood didn't seem to stop. For such a small scrape, the water made it seem like an open gash in your leg. You continued rubbing it, hoping the wound would magically clean with the movement.

Ahead of you, a dark shadow moved in the water. It was too far for you to make out the shape, but it was big. Sharks would never come out this far, you're almost sure of it. You took a cautious step back, afraid moving too fast would signal an attack. The shadow remained still, waiting. It could just be a large fish investigating the aroma of blood. Or a creature... the ones you were told to fear. The ones you were reminded of day in and day out growing up. The reason you weren't allowed in the water in the first place.

This one stayed put, not advancing nor abandoning their prey. They were studying you, you could feel it. Never coming close enough to be seen through the clear water, but also not leaving you be. Was it waiting for something?

Every inch of you wanted to kneel down and look under the water at your observer. It was dumb and would get you killed. But odd men throughout past generations had seen these creatures, described them in a variety of ways. Now you had the chance to actually see one. Tell the town whether or not the tales they told were really true. Draw a vivid picture for the scientists who gave up searching years ago.

You took a step forward, back to your original spot in the sandy floor. The shadow remained still, floating like a dark cloud on a sunny day. It's attack inevitable, but the wait was worse. Your heart was beating so loud, you could have sworn the water was vibrating from it. The circles around your knees had nearly dissipated before you took another step into the water closer to the shadow. Still it remained. The water was now at your mid-thigh, bouncing around with small kitten licks up and down your skin. One half step forward and the water just barely grazed your crotch. Your shorts turning a deeper blue as the material sucked up liquid.

Your fists curled at your side, the anxiety consuming your senses. The world had grown quiet as you waited. Further in now, the water wasn't nearly as clear. The tint a bit darker, the floor murkier. Your feet were only a blurred shape now. But you waited, still. As did the shadow. With each dip and reach of the waves around you, the chilly water was starting to cause goosebumps across your skin. You barely noticed the blood on your wound had stopped flowing, too focused on the task at hand.

The possibility of the creature escaping was high, and much more frightening than the thought of what it could actually do to you. The idea, however, instantly fell away once it moved an inch closer. And then another. So slowly it crept forward, a long cylindrical shadow floating just above the sand, deep enough to stay blurred under the water. It had stopped about a foot away, weighing the next move. You could see the head, rounder than its body, swaying in the water. Hair.

Thoughts of your death overtook your mind. It could be a while before anyone even noticed you missing. No one would check the water. No one would think you were that stupid to do the one thing you were constantly told not to do.

The creature drew closer to your feet and you froze in place. It reached in front of it with a bright, pale arm, stopping centimeters from your toes. The hair floating around its head in a messy crown. You took a deep breath and held it before you felt the cold touch on your foot... of skin. The creature's other hand mirroring the same actions on your other foot. It was soft, delicate, experimental. The touch would have gone unnoticed except for the temperature, and the fact you were seeing it.

The hands slid up to your ankles, poking a little at the bone, feeling the curve and dip of it. It tickled a bit, but you remained still. This creature could change it's mind at any time, and you could instantly become food. If it wasn't just checking out its meal beforehand.

The fingertips glided further up, inspecting the bone running along the front of your calf, the muscles cushioning it around. You noticed the fingers neglecting to touch the wound. The touch had become firmer, more sure you wouldn't suddenly take off.

As the hands reached further, you were able to make out more features. Long nails at the end of each finger, the digits webbed together. The arms bony thin, but muscular enough to withstand the strength of the water. They contoured with each pinch against your leg, testing the dexterity.

You looked past the arms, to the hair. Little brown curls bounced with the sways the creature gave to stay afloat in the water. The hair was long, shiny in the sunlight. Under the hair was a thin torso, bones wriggling with every arm movement and rock of its body. The pale skin fades into a glittering collage of turquoise and blue scales. The tail was round around the hips and tapering off into a thinner shape near the tail fin. You could only really see up to the middle of the tail before the water blocked the rest from view. It was beautiful, awe-inducing.

Your attention was too focused on the shape of the creature to notice it had dipped its head closer to your legs. The eyes surveying the wound closely with a specific interest on the open skin and spots of clotted blood. The fingers poking at the skin around it, causing it to flush and return back to color.

What the fuck was he doing? He should have swam miles away by now, as far from the human standing before him as possible. Your presence unfaltering in the water was enough to keep close. He could still smell your blood, and his hunger never faded, but something new was happening. He could feel it.

Your foot had brought you closer once. Then twice. Then again. He could see up to your round thighs now, and felt the urge to feel them. Your legs looked so lively, pumping with blood, your muscles moving under your skin. He was almost jealous. You had legs.

He approached cautiously, afraid he would scare you off, but you stood your ground. From the floor, he could barely make out your face. Your head a featureless circle sitting atop your shoulders. He probably looked the same to you.

Your feet looked so strange, little toes leading into flat-topped feet. And you had two! The veins jutting along the top reminded him of the shell he gave you. Textured, but soft. He felt along your ankle, wondering the mechanics behind it. His fin flowed, no bones to withhold movement. How did humans swim with such strict bodies?

As he came up to your shin, he did his best to ignore the wound and instead took to studying your muscles and bones. Your skin was slightly thicker here than your foot, more porous, but less bumpy than the veins on your feet. You were so warm, so soft his hands could glide along your skin. You were everything he wasn't.

Your skin was flexible when he pinched. He could push and pull it to his every whim. The skin would grow lighter under his pushing fingertips and then back to normal when he pulled them away. Dead bodies never did that.

He really did his best to ignore the wound, but the look of the open flesh was magnetic. He was so hungry, but the thought of hurting you made him nauseous. Instead, he inspected it closely, pulling himself closer to look at it. His nose inches away from your leg. The blood was no longer drifting into the water, but scabbed. The skin was still open, a pink-ish hue peeking through the skin. Something in his brain flipped and he did it without second thought. Sticking his tongue out, he leaned in and licked along the open skin. It tasted divine. He gripped onto your ankles holding you in place as he licked again. And again.

He nearly dug his teeth in, letting his instincts take over and shutting his brain off the world, but then he remembered it's you. He let go of your ankles quickly, pushing himself back a bit as if he was the one hurt. His arms hugged his torso in comfort, his tail curling under him. How could he go against his true nature like this? Turning down his own needs simply because you interested him? His people would be so disappointed. They would scorn him, banish him to the deepest, darkest parts of the ocean.

You stood there still, probably worried you did something wrong. Your feet digging into the sand beneath in anxiousness. He hugged his tail closer as you started turning away to head back to shore. The thought of chasing after you to continue this little introduction was enticing, but he was already disappointed in himself enough. He stayed curled up there long after your feet left the water, even after the sun went down.

His stomach gurgling in his little ball was the only sound he let himself hear.

You were admiring the figure when it had jerked back suddenly, as though your skin had burned it. One moment it was exploring your legs, the next it was curling up on itself. Was this something natural? Did you scare it? Your thoughts were racing, your toes digging into the sand. It stayed like that for a bit, not attempting to move toward you again. You had overstayed your welcome in the water, and the creature had enough.

Turning back to land, you glanced once behind you to see the creature still in the same position. Maybe another time you'll meet again. For now, this was over.

You reached the shore, your shorts dripping at the bottom, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care. Your sandals lay in the same spot you left them on the sand and you dug your toes into them with a slight hint of fury, aimed at yourself. You didn't think you did anything wrong, but your focus was so occupied, you may have flinched and scared it. Or maybe something on your skin hurt it. All your thoughts were blaming you for ruining the moment.

You glanced down at your legs for a moment to notice the wound was gone completely. As though it was never there in the first place. The creature had healed you.

taglist: @luna-munson83 @harrys-tittie @jobean12-blog @idkidknemore @sister-cirice @xxaestheticboyxx @frodofreakingbaggins @ajeff855 @maddieluvseddie @untowardghost @secretdryrose @eddieswifu @hellfire1986baby

Thanks for reading, lovelies!!!

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #siren!eddie #siren!eddie munson #siren au #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #mandi writes #parkermunson

[number1jaymerrickhater]

Marble hornets driving headcannons

Jay

Can not drive for shit

There are not enough words in the english language to describe what an awful driver he is

He’s the type of guy to put on his turn signal 2 seconds before trying to cut across 6 lanes of traffic

One time he gave Alex a ride to set and Alex vowed to never get in a car with him again

“Shit this is where we’re supposed to turn, hold on.”

Proceeds to slam on his breaks, jerks the wheel so hard he almost flips the car and nearly causes a 12 car pile up

It is a miracle he hasn’t died in a car crash.

He is banned from borrowing anyones car ever

Despite all this he still says he’s not that bad of a driver.

“See guys! We made it here in one piece. I told you I’m not a shitty driver” meanwhile Alex is riding shotgun with his life flashing before his eyes, Tim is in the backseat trying to make peace with god, and Brian is squeezing the door handle so hard it looks like he’s trying to break it.

They all unanimously agree to take Jay off the carpooling rotation.

Surprisingly his car would be relatively clean. Other than some crumbs and a few half empty water bottles I don’t think his car would be that messy.

Alex

Two words. Road rage.

I hc that before Marble Hornets Alex wasn’t an angry dude 99% of the time

Yeah that 1% of the time is when he’s behind the wheel

Scares the shit out of everyone in the car when he’s driving

He just gets so mad that someone’s putting him and his friends in danger because they can’t follow the rules of the road

Has a lot of anxiety about driving which manifests in him yelling for 20 minutes when some asshole cuts him off in traffic

His car is super clean, he absolutely hates it messy

He isn’t just a backseat driver he is the backseat driver

The only thing worse than letting him drive is having him sit next to you while you drive

He gets possessed by the spirit of a middle aged dad teaching his teenage kid how to drive every time he gets in the car with anyone

“Hey don’t you think you’re going a little fast? Maybe you should slow down a little?” While aggressively holding onto the ceiling handle thing by the door type deal

Idk he just seems like the type to be very passionate about road safety

His car has a “back off grumpy driver on board” sticker bc Brian put it there as a joke and Alex just never took it off

He says he hates it but secretly he does think its a little funny

Tim

He just does not give a fuck

Like he’s not going out of his way to be super reckless but he’s also not giving himself a panic attack over road saftey

He just accepted it is what it is, if he gets into an accident then it be like that sometimes

“Buckle your seatbelts everyone, or don’t its your funeral I guess. Just be on the lookout for cops I don’t want a ticket.”

His car reeks of cigarette smoke

He’s not a heathen, he won’t smoke when other people are in his car, but he smokes so much it hardly makes a difference

His car is also an absolute mess

Empty soda bottles, food wrappers, random papers, flannels, his car is so messy he could have anything in there

He’ll make an effort to clean it if he knows he’s gonna have people in his car, but his definition of clean is “everyone has a space to sit and a relatively clean section of floor to put their feet”

Does not put up with Alex’s backseat driving, if he tries it he’ll just turn the radio louder to drown him out.

Brian

Brian is also a bad driver, but unlike Jay it’s intentional

I mean what’s the point in driving if you’re not going 20 miles over the speed limit at all times?

The first time he carpooled everyone to set, he scared the shit out of them because (besides Tim) no one had ever been in a car with him

Like you look at Brian with his dorky smile, get in his car that has a million stupid bumper stickers on the back, and you expect a normal drive

Then Brian starts blasting the worst music you can think of and tearing down the street like he’s the main character in a fast and furious movie

He was also voted off the carpool rotation

Has a playlist specifically for when he’s in the car with other people and its just the worst music you can think of

Think like the gummy bear song and crazy frog (did those exist in 2006??? Well now they do)

He has actually good taste in music, he’s just a massive troll and thinks its funny

Same with the bumper stickers, bro has a million “honk if you’re homo” and “my other ride is your mom” type bumper stickers all over the back of his car

Still he’s a bad driver in a fully intentional good driver kinda way? Idk how to describe it but unlike Jay he actually knows what the fuck he’s doing

The only time he’s been pulled over was when he was with Alex. He managed to convince the officer that he was only driving so crazy because he was trying to get his friend to the hospital because he was having an asthma attack.

The cop bought it both because I mean look at Brian he looks like an honest stand up dude, and because Alex was actually having a panic attack at being pulled over so he sold it pretty well

#I’m probably wrong about most of these but idk #this is based on nothing but vibes and random thoughts I had at 3 am #marble hornets #marble hornets headcanons #alex kralie #mh jay merrick #mh tim wright #mh brian

[queers-gambit]

Here’s a little prompt if you are still taking requests

Billy leaves reader at a gas station after an argument and Eddie (or even Steve) show up see them sitting outside on the ground with obvious signs of crying and offer to give a ride home.

(Reader can be the type of person who is kind to everyone just to add that little extra)

ooooohhhh, this one hurt, not gonna lie. slutty angst club - i'm calling you to arms!!

my apologies for how long this has taken me, but depression be WILD and i have the attention span of a squirrel ✨ anyways, thank you very kindly for the request - i hope you like it - and all of my love unto you! 🖤

🍒 requests are now reopened

Natural Instinct

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!reader, small Steve Harrington x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: (shorty) 3.4k+

note: beef cake beef cake beef cake, author is sleep deprived.

warnings: cursing, significant others fighting, the prompt a.k.a Billy being a dickhead. cutie Steve, Lord's name in vain, and angst. kinda ambiguous ending that i don't know if it counts as comfort or not.

"Christ on the Cross, Billy!" You gasped, hanging onto the 'oh shit' handle for dear life as the car's tires squealed with exertion. "Can you slow down!?"

"Nah, you know what? You think it's cool to fuckin' bring this back up! Fine, then I think it's cool to drive this fast!"

"Slow down, Billy! Please!" You snapped, enraged by his reckless driving. You could recite statistics to crash crashes like you had it tattooed on the back of your eyes, a slice of information you sought out after dating Billy - perhaps for this reason.

He sighed heavily but begrudgingly did as you bid and slowed down considerably, reducing speed by at least 30 miles an hour. You breathed a little easier, but Billy was snapping, "Why'd you have to bring it back up? Huh? You not tired of your own drama by now?"

"Look who's talking! We wouldn't have any issue if you actually respected this relationship! And I have to bring this back up because Chrissy is still all over you," you snapped in return, truly fed up with having the same fight over, and over, and over again. "I'm sorry it makes me uncomfortable but you know, watching the cheer captain make come-fuck-me-eyes at my boyfriend is really getting old! It's almost like you get off on other women's attention!"

"Doesn't mean I'm doing anything to them in return," he snapped back at you, briefly reminding you of a feral animal as he made a sharp left turn into the glowing lights of the gas station. "Keep your ass there, I'll be a minute," he sneered as he turned the ignition, stepping out of the car and slamming the door with the intent of filling his gas tank.

You felt something in your stomach snap and prickle, making you stand from your seat and let the door shut behind you as you rounded the back of the car, "Billy, we're not done talking about this."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," he sighed, hand slapping to his thigh as a cigarette dangled from his lips.

"Jesus Christ - tell me you're not actually thinking of lighting that!?"

"I'm not fucking stupid!" He snapped, eyes ablaze as he shoved the gas nozzle into his tank. "I told you to stay put! God damn it, can't never do what you're told, huh!?"

"We're not done talking about this and if you think I want to show up at this party with you pissed off to High Heaven, then think again!"

"I'm really not tryna think about you at all," Billy rolled his eyes, scoffing, and turning away from you to lean against his car with his arms crossed defensively.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" You moved around to face him. His eyes refused to meet yours. "Billy, it's just not a good feeling seeing all those cheerleaders throwing themselves at you everyday, and you know it's only to make their boyfriends jealous."

"Or maybe I'm trying to piss you off," he sneered quietly.

"What?" You felt something in your heart crack slightly.

"Just get out of my face."

"Billy! C'mon - "

"Nah, you know what?" His eyes now blazed with anger, making your feet cement to the ground beneath you out of sheer anxiety. "I think I've had more than enough of you for a lifetime," Billy scoffed again, moving to yank the empty nozzle free and set it back to the gas station tank. When he moved for the driver's door, you snapped back into action.

"What's that supposed to mean? Billy!"

"Means I'm done with you! You don't trust me?" He rounded on you. "You think I'm inviting all those bitches closer to me? Then fucking fine, we're done, I'm done, this," he gestured between you deftly, "is done. Find your own way home 'cause I'm goin' to the party without you, I'm sick of hearing you bitch and gripe about this."

"What - wait, wait, wait!" You gasped, watching him drop into his driver's seat, not even sure when he had opened the door.

"Nah, I've fucking had it with you and these fucking insecurities. If you can't trust me, as your boyfriend, then you know what? We ain't got no type of business being together. I'm done wasting my time."

"Billy, don't do this," you tried, already feeling the cold set it - but for your bones to jump when his ignition roared to life. "Billy, please, baby, wait, I'm sorry - I'm sorry, okay - I'm so fucking sorry, baby, please, just wait," you moved with his window as he rolled away from the station. Your instant need to please him, to placate his anger, kicked you into overdrive and made you suddenly regret bringing the entire subject up.

But in truth, you didn't want to go to the stupid fucking party tonight if he was just going to invite the attention of other women in! Was that so wrong? You didn't think so - but based on his current actions, you were beginning to think you were damagingly wrong.

"Yeah, whatever, take it up with someone who's gonna listen to you bitch, whine, and cry the rest of your time," he sneered, rolling his window up, and without waiting for you to move away, pressed on the gas pedal and sped away from you.

"BILLY!" You screamed at the retreating car, feet stalling in the dirt as you look around you. Truth was, you were maybe 5ish miles from town because Kasey Werner was throwing a party in her Granddaddy's barn; leaving you on the outskirts with no ride. "Oh, my God," you panted, pacing for a moment and feeling your heart lurch with panic. This wasn't good...

What you would've given to have one of those portable walkie-talkies the kids you used to babysit for used.

With tears in your eyes, you turned back for the small bodega at the gas station and wondered in. But the only person present was a young lad who didn't speak a lick of English - and you, who didn't speak a lick of Amharic, was unable to communicate your needs properly. He just smiled at you, repeating, "Yes? Gas? Good price!"

Giving up, you moved back outside and looked both up and down the road; feeling your heart drop to your feet when you realized the only lights were sporadic and few between... Leaving you feeling unsure if you could even walk home; not feeling entirely safe.

Shout out your home town of Hawkins for giving you lingering trauma by being some door to an alternate, creepy, slimy dimension!

Dropping onto the curb, you felt the first sob claw its way out of your throat before an entire avalanche of emotion fell over you; leaving you sputtering for breath. However long you sat there, you weren't sure, but you knew you sobbed the entire time as self-pity overwhelmed your body like a tidal wave. Distraught and alone, you felt your options were gone and done, figuring when the wave of desperate sadness passed you'd start to walk - but then, your saving grace pulled up in a red BMW.

You picked your head up when you noticed Steve Harrington stepping out of his car, feeling honest, white-hot shock run through you when he was making a direct beeline for you. You sat up a little and wiped your cheeks, shying away from his inquisitive stare as he reached you and softly mumbled your name.

"Oh, um, hey, Steve," you nodded softly at the boy you had no other contact with outside of that shared, lingering trauma Hawkins put you both through. Him more so, but still.

"Hey, um, so, this might be a dumb question, but are you okay?"

"Well," you twisted your hands together, feeling foolish, "um, B-Billy got kinda mad at me and... Well..."

"Don't tell me he left you here," Steve seethed, sighing as he took the seat on the curb beside you. "Shit, man, c'mon, please, don't tell me. That means I'd have to kick his ass again."

You shrugged, "I don't know, yeah, guess he did leave me here." But then his words registered in your brain, "And I'm pretty sure he kicked your ass, buddy-boy."

"Logistics," He rolled his eyes, waving your words off. "How long ago did he leave you?"

"'M not really sure," you rubbed your hands together. "Enough for the chill to set in, I guess?"

"Oh, my God," he realized, looking you up and down and finding you only in a thin party dress, "you must be freezing - c'mon, come with me," he nodded, standing to usher you under his arm. And in that moment, your mind reared with worry to remind you that your natural instinct to trust everyone made you forgiving and left you wanting to trust all of them; and that perhaps, not everyone was worthy of it.

Not to say you had any reason to think Steve Harrington untrustworthy, but only that you needed to heed caution before jumping into people's cars. Look where your nature got you with Billy - dating a manipulative jackass who couldn't regulate his own feelings for the life of him; someone who always charged you with their own (un)emotional stability; someone who made it your problem if you couldn't be their punching bag and tried to stick up for yourself. Trusting Billy got you nowhere, so, with Steve, it was only 'natural' now that you were cautious.

Steve both felt and noticed your hesitation as it physically portrayed itself in the form of you coming to a halt, spying the tears collecting in your eyes again as your mind screamed at you to use caution - something you didn't heed before starting your fight with Billy. "Hey," he nodded softly, brows gently crinkled with genuine concern, "you all right?"

"I-I'm sorry, but I don't - I don't know you. Sure, we went through all that shit together, but I don't know you - you know? I-I can't just go with you."

"No, hey, it's okay, I know," he sighed, "but seriously, I can't leave you alone all the way out here." He offered a genuine smile - something you noticed Billy rarely did, as he preferred to smirk as it hid most of whatever emotions he had. Oh, shit, here you went comparing Steve and Billy; which, truthfully, was like comparing a sweet Georgia peach to a half-burnt cigarette. When you appeared calmed by his little 'joke', Steve continued, "So, could I please sit you down somewhere warm, put gas in my car, and make sure you get home safely?"

"W-Wh-Why are you helping me?" You worried, shaking from both the cold and expulsion of adrenaline.

"I don't really need a reason to do the right thing, do I?" he asked softly, offering a small smirk. "I know we aren't really friends, but my mother raised me better than to see a woman in trouble and walk away. Least I can do is offer you a ride home in a warm car, right?"

You twisted your fingers together, "Um, y-yeah, okay. Sure, okay, yeah, I'd really appreciate the ride. Listen, I can offer you a few bucks for gas - "

"No, don't even go there, it's not necessary," he assured, smiling brighter then before at you. "I appreciate it, but it's okay, I gotta fill up anyways. Here," he lead you to his car finally after your feet unstuck themselves from the dirt ground, and opened his red passenger door. "Gimme a sec to fill the tank and I'll get the heat going."

"Take your time," you nodded meekly, sitting, and trying to drawl in yourself; to minimize your presence.

Steve didn't take long, and just as he was dropping into his seat, turning the ignition, and cranking the heat, you heard the roar of Billy's Camaro from down the road. Steve took one look at your tearful face and pulled out, heading back towards town; a full minute passing before Billy was tearing back into the gas station - frantic eyes searching for any clue of you.

In the car, you and Steve had settled into a comfortable silence. But he seemed anxious to leave it like that; leaving him to start a new conversation. "So, uh, d-do you mind if I ask... Like, what happened?" ex-King of Hawkins High asked softly, his radio turned down to four to hear you properly.

You shrugged, "I told my jerk boyfriend that I didn't like it when cheerleaders flirt with him because it made me uncomfortable, and he took it as I didn't trust him."

"Well, do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Trust him?"

"I do," you admitted, leaning on your hand pressed to the passenger door. "But that's my personal problem for trusting everyone and not learning when they betray me, show their true colors... Listen, hey, uh, c-can I ask you something, Steve?"

"Shoot."

"Do you think Billy's good for me?"

Steve avoided your eyes, "I don't think I should ans - "

"C'mon, I know you have an opinion. Am I just naïve for trusting him? Please, Stevie, I need someone to help me make sense of it all. I don't even know what I'm feeling, so, please, am I being naïve?"

"No, no, I don't think so. I think you're in love and that can make you wear rose-tinted lenses that filter everything you see, feel, hear, whatever have you."

"Is that bad?"

"No," he assured swiftly, "because being love is really great when you do it the right way with the right person, but sometimes it makes us a little blind. We accept love as we think we deserve it, because we don't know any better, and we don't have other prior experience."

"Right..."

"So, it's not your fault for figuring it out. Maybe you love Billy, and maybe he loves you, too, but that doesn't mean it's 100% healthy. In truth, I don't think any relationship is really going to be 100% either which way, but it's up to us to determine pro's and con's of each."

"How do I know?"

"I don't actually know," Steve admitted, sighing sadly after. "I guess it's one of those things we all have to just figure out for ourselves instead of hoping someone will tell us."

You groaned, "Why can't this just be easy?"

He chuckled a bit, "My mom would say that if things were easy, everyone would do them. Maybe that's why sometimes, it's a choice to be single."

The sigh you heaved was mighty, "Am I stupid for not even feeling angry?"

"You're not angry? But he left you!"

"I know!" You assured sharply, "But I feel more sad than angry!"

"Oh," he deflated a bit, glancing at you, "yeah, uh, I guess I get that."

"He was angry, and I know that makes him irrational, but I'm just really sad that I trusted him and he left me like I was some piece of garbage! I'm angry, sure, but fuck! I'm just sad! Like... Like why was it so easy for him?"

"I don't know," Steve frowned.

"N-No, I'm sorry - I'm not asking you to hold answers to my relationship, I'm just..."

"Sad," he understood, nodding. "Whatever you wanna talk about or say, I hope you feel free enough to in the safety of this car. Whatever you say won't leave this sanctuary."

You sighed gently, "Thanks, Steve... Hey, um, what were you doing tonight?"

"Oh, I dropped Robin and Vickie off at Kasey Werner's, I was coming home," he shrugged some.

"Do you have to pick them up, too?"

"Not until much later," he assured.

"Would you maybe wanna hang until then?" You asked with a sigh. "I just - "

"You're sad," he understood empathically.

"My mom made cookies, if that helps?"

"Oh, I was in before, but now I definitely am!" He laughed. "I swear, your mom's baking could be the solution to world peace!"

You chuckled as he went on a tangent about how your mother's baking was 'legendary'. He told you about how, years ago, he told his mother to start getting his birthday cakes from the hometown bakery since he tried samples during the 4th grade Career Day. You understood better than anyone because your mother was more than talented in the kitchen, but it didn't really translate over to you.

In fact, only half an hour after getting to your house, you and Steve had covered the kitchen in flour as you tried to recreate one of her recipes, while her pre-made dough was divided up on cookie sheets, sitting in the oven to bake. And that was where Billy found you when he burst through your back door; laughing loudly with Steve 'The Hair' Harrington, flour dusting both of your guys' cheeks and hair.

"Billy!" You shouted in shock, hand to your chest to try and calm your erratic heartbeat as he stood there - just staring wildly.

Home security wasn't a thing in the '80s, so, yeah, Billy can just show up at your house and walk in whenever he wants.

"Oh," Steve muttered, sighing as he set one of the mixing bowls aside. "You wanna handle that?" He asked you in a whisper, but your eyes were bulging as you couldn't believe he'd show up like this.

"What? We get in one fight, and you run into some other dudes' arms?" He sneered, glaring at you. "But Harrington, no less? And I gotta find out about it by showing up - "

"Unannounced, uninvited, and unwelcome, I might add," You perked a single brow.

"You had to stoop this low?" Billy growled at you. "Harrington, like, are you serious right now?"

"Hey, dude," Steve muttered sarcastically, giving a short flick of his wrist in the form of a wave.

"Just for your information, Steve's literally only here because you left me, you fucking jackass!" You raged, missing the way Steve smirked as he was waiting for your anger to take over - and it turns out, seeing Billy was the last straw.

"But I came back!"

"That doesn't excuse the fact that you left me all alone - in the cold and dark - with no way home, no way of calling for help!" You screamed as you slowly stalked towards him. "I can't believe you! I tell you that shit you're doing in making me uncomfortable and instead of trying to take the time to understand my point of view, maybe even want to fix it, you just shame me for it! Then got mad as if I caused all this! And then, the cherry on top of of this fucked-up sundae, you LEFT me at a gas station!"

Knowing he wasn't going to win this, Billy held up placating hands, "Hang on, sweetheart, just let me - "

"Don't try to break out pet names now, you fucked this up!" You raged, hands flying with animation. "And now I want you gone - go! Get out of here!" You pushed him towards the door.

"Hang on - "

"No, you know what? You might not respect me, but I'm tired of treating myself like that! So, from now on, I'll do what's best for me, and right now, that's having you gone! You might not respect me, but I sure as shit do, so get out! Get gone! Goodbye!"

Billy scoffed as you pushed him out the door finally, locking it after him as you laid your body against it. Huffing, you looked up to spy Steve in the back of your kitchen, smirking as he nodded before clapping slowly.

"That was - wow," he chuckled, clapping still. "Way to go, superstar. That was pretty impressive to watch. Feeling better?"

"I feel great actually," you admitted. "Is that normal?"

"That's what standing up for yourself feels like," he smirked.

"I like it..."

"Good, ride that high," he advised. "And try to direct all that into baking skills 'cause so far, we're failing pretty miserably."

"Speak for yourself," you teased, pushing off the locked door to venture towards Steve; unaware that Billy laid against the locked backdoor, tears in his eyes and slowly (like molasses slow) dribbling down his cheeks as white-hot guilt overwhelmed his heart, mind, and very soul. Billy wasn't accustomed to this kind of empathy, and it was rattling the stony boy to his core.

Usually, there was anyone else to blame for his fuck-ups, but now, it was only Billy's fault, and it was a harsh realization for the lad.

Another thing he wasn't accustomed to confronting? His accountability.

And when he heard your effortless laugh from within your kitchen, he had to push away from both his heart, mind, and your house with a plan forming each step he walked away from you.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove one shot #billy stranger things #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader

[mha-platonic-yanderes]

you could make a platonic Yandere All for one x reader sibling shigaraki x ,I imagine that the reader ends up escaping and goes abroad ,All for one ends up taking control of japan and decided to invade other countries for his world domination, I imagine that reader ends up being captured and brought to his older brother as a prize

Oh, every child rebels from their father. All For One thought that is would be convenient to let you do this, let you think you've gotten away when in reality, everywhere you went, everyone you met, everything you saw was what he allowed you to go, meet, and see.

And honestly, it was easier this way. No pesky Pro Heroes back home could try to use you against him, not when they would never ever see you. What's one person, thousands of miles away, in a different country to a villain hell-bent on controlling Japan, and then the World?

Well, everything and then some. To him and his son.

Tomura was displeased when he allowed you to leave. He threw a tantrum and used his power with reckless abandon, hoping that if he misbehaved enough, AFO would concede. But AFO has the patience of a man who has lived dozens of lifetimes. And he would not back down to a child's tantrums—neither yours or Tomura's.

But, Japan has fallen, and so have the surrounding countries. The United Nations couldn't stop him and he was bound to have you once again

It was undeniable. Your freedom was coming to an end.

The face of the man who was terrorizing the world en masse was undeniable. It was the father you'd escaped from. Sometimes he was caught alongside Tomura in photographs, sometimes Tomura was without him—either alone or with his band of militants called the League of Villains.

You knew you were safe here for long.

It was a risk staying within Eurasia, but the boat ride to mainland China wasn't expensive and from there you could hitch rides on trains or with sketchy, skeevy drivers.

Anything was better than All For One. Anything was worth your freedom.

And thus, even though you enjoyed the sunsoaked sunsets in India, going further west was imperative, as he was starting to infect the mainland with his ideals.

And he wouldn't stop until he found you. You knew that.

#there was more to this post but i accidentally deleted it and im not going to rewrite it #yandere mha #platonic yandere #yandere bnha #mha platonic yanderes #platonic yandere afo #mha yandere #platonic yandere mha #platonic yandere shigaraki #maybe if someone asks me more about this in particular ill write more but until then!

[delopsia]

Hi, I misread an ask and thought we were discussing omega! Rhett and Reader with Alpha Bob, and now I've had to do the copy-paste of shame 🧍‍♂️ This is just a cute little long-winded ramble about Rhett hailing from a long line of alphas and coming into his own after meeting Reader and Bobby 💐 This can turn into a one-shot if anyone asks me for it.

Not a soul could have expected that the infamous youngest son of Royal Abbott, beefy cowboy, and reckless bull rider, was an omega. Hell, Rhett hadn't even expected it.

Even in his toddler and early childhood stages, he fell into every tell-tale sign and stereotype that an alpha child would. A little too possessive of his toys, flashing his teeth on the playground, would prickle at the presence of alphas. He was damn near identical to Perry.

Royal was convinced that their youngest would turn out to be an alpha. Hell, he'd been bragging about his unbroken family lineage since before Rhett was even born. He knew every one of his children would be alphas. And it would only make sense, hailing from a long line of them; in fact, the Abbott family hadn't seen a beta or omega born since the late 1800s. Questioning it, in the family's eyes, was pointless. Why would the tradition break now?

And then Rhett hit those years, the awkwardness of becoming a teenager topped off by the sudden maturing of scent glands. Little patches of skin learning to produce thin oils; some kids struggle with overproduction, and some need specialized creams because their glands are drying out. As if dealing with acne and hormones wasn't enough for them to deal with.

Cecelia's suspicions came when Rhett's scent change didn't match Perry's. Where Perry had experienced a sudden shift, overproducing so much scent that Royal could literally lift his nose to the wind and know where his eldest was from a mile away, Rhett was a quiet change.

Over the course of six months, he lost that 'new' scent he was born with and acquired something that can only be described as smores at a campfire. Smokey and warm, with a slight sweetness, so well hidden that the only way to catch a whiff of it is to have your nose right next to the scent glands on his neck. And while sweetness isn't a scent reserved exclusively for omegas, it was an anomaly on both sides of the family.

So when seventeen-year-old Rhett came home from school early one day, complaining about his face being hot and an uncomfortable churn in his belly, Cecelia couldn't say she was surprised.

Perry, quite frankly, did not give a damn when he found out, it was none of his business, and even if it did bug him, he was too focused on the birth of his daughter to spare it much thought. But Royal was a firestorm of his own. He couldn't understand it. How could this possibly happen? And no matter how much he yelled and screamed, this wasn't a matter that could simply be remedied by words.

It was only during this argument that it became painfully clear that Rhett didn't function like the stereotype depicted. Even with Royal's barking and challenging, Rhett didn't fold like he was meant to. Being an omega didn't change his rougher nature, going toe to toe with his father, a mountain in the wind, refusing to be moved.

It frustrates Royal to no end; he breaks tradition in every way possible. An omega hailing from generations of alphas who refuses to act the way an omega traditionally should. Doesn't loosen his shoulders and slightly lower his head, when an alpha enters the room, no matter how hard Royal tries to pull it out of him.

Even stranger. Rhett fully commits to the alpha-dominated sport of bull riding. Is so disguised in his nature that not even his many, many hookups realize he isn't an alpha. It's an oddity that perplexes even Rhett himself.

A part of him is always tempted to skip his medications and experience a full-blown heat in the safety of a cozy hotel. He knows a handful of gentle-handed alphas who would be more than willing to take care of him, has toys and everything he could possibly need, but it just doesn't...do anything for him. He's tried it before, but even with the fever and hint of delirium, it quit being fun after an hour, and calling someone just filled his belly with dread. Watching TV, snuggled in the sheets, was all he truly did.

His friend Archie, an older guy who has been around the sun a few more times than Rhett has, suggests that it's simply because Rhett hasn't found the right people. And maybe he's got a point because one summer, everything changes.

You're similar to Rhett in the whole 'omega not acting like an omega' situation. It's never been something you've gone out of your way to adhere to; other than being rudely reminded of your heats when you forget to take your medication a few days in a row, you pass as all three.

Taking bits and pieces from each to create the unique design of your personality, unable to fall into the trap of being a carbon copy of everyone else in your gender. In the event you truly need to, you can get away with convincing others that you're a beta or an alpha. It's a nifty trick that not everyone can pull off. Where your friend has to bathe in special pheromones to trick those around her, you can simply open your mouth and make a claim.

Unlike Rhett, Bob comes from a patchwork of secondary genders. Alphas, betas, omegas, there's no true pattern to his family, and rarely does anyone display the behaviors associated with their status. His momma is an omega who is often mistaken for an alpha; his younger sisters are betas, but one acts like the spitting stereotype of an omega. It's such an afterthought in the Floyd family that Bob didn't even really notice he was an alpha until someone made a comment about it.

The spectrum of dominance is a much larger issue with alphas than it is with omegas. It's one thing for an omega to break their traditional roles, but the whole 'alpha' thing is a mess of its own. Some wise guy decided that being an alpha wasn't enough and started up a trend of "true" and "false" alphas, depending on how well you adhered to the stereotype. Bob, one way or another, has found himself labeled a false alpha; his presence simply doesn't command the submission of everyone else in the room. Frankly, he doesn't give a damn. So what if he's frequently mistaken for a beta?

So when he's dragged to a concert in the middle of nowhere Wyoming, and this rough and tough cowboy lowers his head at him, Bob doesn't know what the hell to think. And there's you, right behind the unnamed cowboy, downright confused about why you just submitted yourself to a complete stranger when you exclusively reserve that motion for your loved ones.

To you, a quiet alpha like Bob isn't all that out of the ordinary.

To Rhett, it's a breath of fresh air.

It takes some time to get out into the quiet of the parking lot, but one way or another, the three of you are perched in the back of Rhett's truck. Playfully bickering, bewildered about how Bob took one look at you and knew you were lying about being a beta. He'd identified you and Rhett so easily as if he were being asked as simple as what color shirt you were wearing. A feat that had made your skin crawl in the past, now an odd sense of comfort, like he was seeing you for you and not anything else.

Rhett's having the strangest experience of his life. All he can think about is rubbing his head against the glands on Bob's neck, like a damn cat dying to drown in the woodsiness of his scent. That's never happened before, and he explains it as such. He's rarely ever felt the instincts of an omega, forget learning to calm them. He only explains it because of a whine he didn't know he made. Doesn't expect Bob to tilt his head and invite him over.

But he doesn't know what to do. The instinct is strong, but it's not all the way there. Until you squirm over and nuzzle up on the other side of Bob, running the glands at your temples against the ones on Bob's neck. Here you two are. Strangers. Rubbing up on another stranger. Rhett's not sure what to do about the twinging in his chest as he nuzzles into Bobby's neck. Bob is just happy to be a comfort, kind in a manner that you haven't seen in a long time.

All things considered, it should be a one-night thing. An odd memory that you look back on and wonder what the hell you were thinking. But you're all in the same hotel, and it's so hard to stay away from each other.

Staying out late at a diner, falling asleep in Rhett's hotel room to the tune of the television. You come back from sightseeing with friends and run into Rhett in the hall. He sees you nuzzling your friends and has all sorts of questions about how that works. You're more than content to show him.

Bob returns from lunch and becomes a willing test dummy to all of Rhett's confused instincts. Where Rhett would usually lash out at someone asserting dominance over him, when Bobby tries, he bends and shows his neck.

When Rhett gets home, he starts acting funny. Before the trip, he never paid his phone much attention. Now he's buying a new one that won't overheat or freeze over a text message. He's found himself muffling whines over phone calls and jumping every time his phone dares make a noise 'cause it could be you or Robby. Over the course of a few days, he's gone from lone wolf to pack-oriented, physically hurting for the presence of people he's just met.

Rhett has never been great at catching scents, but when you and Bob appear at his rodeo, he smells you before he sees you. Has to be stopped from scaling the fence to join you two up in the stands. Nobody knew Rhett was an omega until after he'd ventured up and snuggled into the juncture of Bob's neck, nuzzling your temple, so completely and utterly content that he chirps for the first time in his life.

And so maybe the three of you are something more than friends now. Nobody needs to know that you and Rhett are boarding a plane to spend the week at Bob's apartment. It's no one's business that they spend weekends at your place and that Rhett sometimes appears for a night because he missed you.

You've been dating for two years when the decision is made to move in together. And you only spend a few months under the same roof when you come home on your lunch break to Rhett, red-faced and confused, lying in the bath. He's home from work early; didn't make mention of it to either of you.

"What's wrong?" You murmur, pressing a cool cloth to his forehead, stroking away the bits of hair that cling to his flushed skin. Clammy is the only way you can describe it.

"I'm..." his eyebrows furrow, doesn't seem to understand a lick of what is coming out of his mouth, "leaking?"

His heat started. The info script on his medicine confirmed breakthrough heats were possible, but the aggressiveness of it perplexed you to no end. You've experienced mild breakthroughs, but it's never left you weak in the knees and burning like a furnace. Getting him to cum isn't enough to relieve the ache in his belly; you can't imagine how confusing it must be, to go from zero to one hundred like this.

But there's a burning problem: Bob is deployed. On an aircraft carrier thousands of miles away.

You're trying your best, but you're in over your head. Rhett's going theory is that it's related to the uptick in instinct as of recent; getting into tune with his own body has triggered something that's been building up for years. Avalanching at the worst possible time.

It's not ending. Your strap-on has been enough to satisfy him in the past, but his heat cannot be fooled by prettily colored silicone. He snuggles on your chest and fucks you until you're too sensitive to go another around; he's cum three times, and he's still pawing himself through another orgasm.

His fever should come down after two days, but even using artificial pheromones isn't enough. They're not as subtle as Bob's scent, too intense to trick his overwhelmed brain into a false sense of comfort. Burying his nose into Bob's old shirts is the only thing that works, but he's producing so much of his own pheromones that it's lost in a matter of hours.

Bobby doesn't know something is wrong until Rhett whines pitifully at the sound of his voice. He mistakes it for Rhett, missing him, but it just keeps happening. You have to step out of the room to explain what's going on because Rhett genuinely cannot handle being able to hear Bobby and not feel him.

The worst part of it all is having a specialized doctor come out to verify that Rhett's condition is bad enough to warrant the Navy letting Bob come home. Not because it feels like an intrusion on your privacy, but because of how Rhett just doesn't know how to act about someone intruding in his private space. Doesn't understand these feelings or how to even begin to control them; he didn't get the chance to work through these when he was younger.

Heats rarely fit the criteria, but Rhett's fever exceeds it alone. He's burning up from the inside out; she gives him a shot of something to help take it down, but it's only temporary. He's lucid enough to manage the night. Wakes you up while he's rustling around the kitchen, biting on a slice of plain bread while he cooks a mini pizza.

His fever goes back up before morning.

Bob doesn't make it home until sunset.

It's strange. You expected Rhett to jump him before he was through the front door, but he doesn't budge from his spot. Quietly nestled on the bed, staring at the wall, in his own little world, unreactive until Bob's hand combs through his hair. And then he does to Bob what he did to you; he turns into a glue trap. There's no escaping his kisses and nuzzles and nips.

You're too damn exhausted to join the first time. Laying next to them, half awake, watching as Bobby gently works Rhett open, fucking him into the mattress, blindly holding your hand all the while. You'd expect it to be frenzied. Rhett's got this whole house reeking of his scent, and he's putting up a hell of a show, but Bob's slow with him. Thoroughly wearing Rhett out, shushing his mindless babbles. It's never mentioned, but you've got the feeling it's because Rhett's never been knotted before.

And when it does finally happen, you learn that Rhett's feet twitch when he's knotted. An adorable little spasm that you had heard about but never considered it to be real until now. It must tickle because he's giggling before his orgasm is over, straining to peer down at what's going on.

Evidently, that was all he needed, because the intensity drops overnight. Come morning, Bob wakes to the quiet shuffle of Rhett in the closet, suddenly overcome with the urge to build a nest but completely and utterly confused about it. He's got a pile of clothes and knows he's supposed to do something with them, but it's just not happening.

You wake up surrounded by clothes, blankets, and other soft oddities that Rhett's found himself drawn to. It's a crudely built nest, crafter only by instinct, with no memory or advice from others to guide himself with, but he's so smiling and accepting everything Bobby offers him. Your nests are primarily built out of things you've bought for the occasion, featuring your favorite colors and textures, but the warmth of this one is unrivaled.

Even after, Rhett doesn't necessarily act like an omega. He's still every bit of the rough-and-tumble cowboy from the first day you met, but he's in tune with himself now. He'll go from a bar fight to nuzzling up under Bob's chin and squeezing you to him, all in the same five-minute span.

Officially going off of his medications has finally let his body do its thing, regular heats that fall into sync with yours and little bits of fat collecting on his ass and thighs, squishy and solid in all the right places. He learns to handle himself and never truly conforms to your aesthetically pleasing nests, forever building a warm, messy patchwork of you and Bobby.

Purring is a function lost to the test of time in most, a function gone obsolete, but your contented rumbles teach him to make the noise, too. Most omegas are groomed out of making all their more primal, animalistic noises, but he chirps and makes all sorts of funny noises that you didn't know were related to your nature.

Bobby is forever the pillar that allows for all of your and Rhett's shenanigans, letting the pair of you love up on him or torment him to your heart's content. He's the sleeping giant that lets kids play on him, only raising issue when he's got genuine reason to.

And even now, with the normalization of these funny little behaviors and Rhett becoming fully aware of his own body, the fun of it all never dies down. Maybe it's because of the long-established dynamic or the nontraditional conformation of who you are as individuals.

Or maybe it's got something to do with the newly healed marks on your necks...

#rhett abbott #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott #omegaverse

[sgiandubh]

Anon rebelde

Sam se está asegurando de que sepamos que está trabajando no de vacaciones. Todas sus etiquetas lo dejan bien claro, esas etiquetas empezando por las de Austria, Canarias no cuenta porque el fic lo escribió el famdom, tal como la de la productora de Love Again y ahora con Alex, implican trabajo, está vez Mordor se va a tener que esmerar mucho para conectarlo con la siguiente rubia del abecedario. Sam esta últimamente poco colaborativo con ellas.

Dear (returning) Anon Rebelde,

Totalmente de acuerdo, hagamos esa traducción primero, mantiene mi español en forma, gracias:

'Sam made sure we're aware he is working, not on a holiday. All his tags clearly point to it, starting with Austria (the Canary Islands are out of this, because in that case, it was the fandom that wrote the fic), then with the Love Again producer and now with Alex. This means work and this time Mordor would have to work hard in order to connect him to the next Alphabet Blonde. Sam hasn't really been very cooperative with them, lately.'

Well, this reminds me of Beauchamp Fraser /Eight Weeks Anon: traveling on a vacation ALONE for eight weeks for various appointments.

Vacation... appointments... as I said in a comment, the Ultimate Dream. People howled in DMs, with good reason.

On a broader scale, I can't ignore the notable increase in hysteria every single time he travels to the United States of A., the Mordor assigned Fuck Lounge. It must be really terrible for a 43 year old and good looking man, to have to travel thousands of miles in order to get in touch with his testosterone. But what do I know, I am just a stupid shipper, after all. And so are you, my dear Anon Rebelde, with your very inconvenient conclusions.

I might (I should) draw a SRH World Map according to this Fandom. We'll laugh for days, mark me.

No matter how many logical arguments we'd bring along, you can be sure that across the street they will find many alt explanations for his American Seasonal Tour. Each and every one of them not involving work. Or (😱😱😱) C - just because they imagine we think she must be there 24/7 or a neglected housewife (or something). And riding a bike in the rain, cue in the banshee shrieks (RECKLESS RIDING! INSURANCE PEOPLE WILL BE MORTIFIED! BAD EXAMPLE FOR GEN Z!) in 4, 3, 2, 1...

I am tired as hell and shall retire to sleep. Thanking you for this Anon, as always. And definitely thinking about a map: it's better than counting sheep, anyways.

#anon #fandom #shitshow

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

The Fire Inside

Summary: Éomer is back in Minas Tirith a few years after the war, getting ready to help Gondor again with the ongoing clean-up after Sauron. But his life has changed and so have his feelings about war and warrior culture, so he needs Éowyn to help him talk it out.

Context: I love spending time with Éomer and Éowyn, and I hope this shows the affection between them and how Éowyn’s perspective (and some of Faramir’s) continues to inform Éomer’s understanding of the world. I’m interested in the way that they’ve both been really reckless with their lives in the past (her in the attitude she had when going to war, and him in the book after he thinks she’s dead and he kind of goes berserk and charges into a really bad situation) and how that echoes their own ancestry, given that one of the only things we know of their dad is that he was so passionate about fighting orcs that he rashly rode into an ambush and got killed. Now that both siblings have had more experiences and their lives have changed, I expect they would view their past actions quite differently now.

Content warning: Beyond a reference to the courting of death, there’s an implied history of miscarriage in Éomer’s marriage. My own relationship to pregnancy is v. complicated and that tends to pop up now and again in what I write, but I understand why other people might want to avoid that. (And for those who like to know there’s a happy ending, you can find in some of my other stories the proof that Éomer has a daughter, and his wife names her Sigewyn (“joyful victory”) in acknowledgment of their struggle to get there.)

**********

The greaves slid easily over Éomer’s shins, and he bent down to fasten them tight. The motion was so familiar, so ingrained in his memory, that he no longer needed to look or even to think about what he was doing. His fingers moved on their own to find and secure each buckle–one behind the knee, one at mid-calf and one above the ankle–while his mind wandered back over the many miles to his home, back to his wife and the last words she had whispered to him as he prepared to ride out. Those words played over and over again in his ears, and when his fingers finished their task he remained frozen in place, still listening to the loop of his wife’s voice. By the time a knock at the door returned his attention to his current surroundings, he wasn’t sure how long he had been stooped there, half-armored and adrift in a sea of thoughts and emotions.

“Enter!” he called over his shoulder, expecting Freaward to help him with the last few pieces of his gear. He stood and ducked into his mail coat, but, as he pulled it over his head, the hands that reached up from behind to free his hair from underneath the collar were not Freaward’s. He caught one, strong but graceful, in his own hand and knew in an instant who it belonged to.

“Éowyn!” He turned and pulled her immediately into a tight embrace. “What are you doing here? Aragorn told me that you were still in Ithilien.”

“Did you really think my big brother would come all the way to Gondor and I wouldn’t find a way to see him?” She put an affectionate hand to his cheek and then turned to the pile of his armor, rust red leather over iron plates bearing the device of the House of Eorl. She picked up the breastplate and spaulders. “And if you’re going to ride off into danger again, then I will see for myself that you are properly equipped.”

She set to work covering his chest and shoulders, a task that was normally performed by the young men still in training to become full riders. He couldn’t help but smirk a little as she positioned, buckled and tightened each piece. “Other men may rule bigger kingdoms or have greater wealth, but what other man can say that he has an actual princess of Gondor as his personal squire?”

She narrowed her eyes and reached down to yank on a strap around his ribs, cinching it so tightly that he doubled over and a grunt escaped his lips.

“I take it back,” he wheezed. “I’ll stick with Freaward. What he lacks in age and rank he makes up for with a kinder hand.”

She laughed and let go of the strap, stepping back to appraise her work. After a few small further adjustments, more gently executed, she handed him his vambraces and took a seat while he secured them in place.

“Now, brother, before you are called off, you must tell me how things are at home. How is my lovely sister-in-law?”

Warm blood ran to his face and ears, and he felt his heart thumping beneath his breastplate as he pictured Mereliss once again, her eyes shining brightly with happy tears. He shook his head lightly before looking up, aware of his awkward pause. “She is well, as always. She works hard, and you would be proud of the way she rules. She follows in your example as a woman of Rohan to be reckoned with.” His words sounded unnaturally rushed even to his own ears.

“I am glad to hear it,” Éowyn said, studying him carefully. “And yet, your manner suggests there is something more that you are not telling me. What is this look on your face? I cannot read it, but I see it clearly enough.”

He turned away belatedly, but there was no hiding now from what she had already seen and perceived. He would have to tell her something, either the truth or an invention to put her off. The truth was supposed to remain a secret, but…she was his only sister. His only close remaining relative of any kind, in fact. And he had always been a terrible liar. He cleared his throat.

“Just as I was leaving, Mereliss told me…Well, she had just confirmed…”. He pictured her again, gently placing his hand on her lower stomach. “It seems that she is expecting.”

“Oh, Éomer!” Éowyn leaned forward to grab both of his hands, squeezing them between her own. “I’m so happy for you both! There are no better tidings than a new baby–and possibly an heir for your line!”

He smiled and returned the squeeze. “Definitely an heir for my line. Boy or girl, this baby will inherit the crown.” He laughed lightly at the surprised expression on her face. “I thought you might appreciate that change. If it’s a girl, she will owe her title to Aunt Éowyn’s good influence.”

She beamed at him for a moment before the smile dropped off her face and she swatted at his arm. “You scoundrel! You had joyous news to share, and yet you made me pry it out of you? What if I had not asked?”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m sorry. It’s just very fresh, even to me, and Mereliss says it is too soon to tell others.” Indeed, though he had thought of nothing else since leaving Rohan, he had not told another soul. Instead, he turned the revelation over and over in his mind, alternating between elation and disquiet.

This was not the first time he had received such news from his wife, but each of the other times had ended only in pain. In waking late at night to find her huddled somewhere, bleeding and in tears. In walking into a room and seeing immediately by the haunted look in her eyes that something had gone amiss again. Their happiness seemed always destined to be heartbreakingly brief, a short, private journey from joy to grief. This time, her kind heart had attempted to shield him from the possibility of more disappointment by keeping the news to herself, enduring many weeks of nervous anticipation, doubt and uneasiness on her own, until she felt confident that things were different at last and that their happiness was here to stay. The joy and relief he felt were deep and profound, but now he found himself with pain of a different kind: the pain of missing even a moment of something he had waited for his entire life, something that had repeatedly slipped out of his hands but now seemed to be finally in his grasp.

Éowyn knew none of these details, but she could clearly sense that he had more to say and she waited patiently for him to share whatever weighed on his mind. He took a deep breath before continuing.

“I should be happy, and of course I am. This is something that we have desperately wanted and struggled for, more than you know. But I didn’t expect to be separated from her as it happened. Leaving loved ones behind to carry out a duty is never easy, but it has also never been this difficult. My body is in Gondor, but my heart is still in Rohan.” He shrugged helplessly. “It cannot be otherwise.”

“Of course not. Nor should it be. But you will be back to her soon. This separation is only temporary.”

He grimaced. “I hope that you are right. I’m here to fulfill my oath–the oath of our people–and I am proud to do it. But something inside feels different now. A little off.”

“What do you mean, ‘off’?”

“It is hard to put into words.” He picked up his gloves but did not put them on, fidgeting instead with the leather seams. “Fighting is what I have trained for and done my whole life. Sitting in a saddle with a sword in my hand has always been comfortable to me. Enjoyable even, at times. But it suddenly doesn’t feel that way now. I am uneasy, feeling the pull of home so much stronger than I ever have before. The charge of excitement that I used to feel on the eve of battle is gone. The fire inside me smolders rather than burns. And I worry that if I have lost that fire, if my sharp edges have dulled, I may find myself at the wrong end of a spear before I know what has happened.” He looked up, stricken. “I would not have my child grow up without its father, as you and I did.”

She sighed and took his hand again. “Éomer, our father died because he had too much fire in him. He let his fire direct his actions, and he took risks that should not have been taken. He was reckless with his life, and he lost it as a result.” She paused, looking off into the distance at some past event that replayed itself before her eyes. “I have done the same. Been reckless, I mean. At best, I treated death with heedless disregard; at worst, I courted it directly. I was only lucky not to meet our father’s same fate. My fire, as you call it, did not protect me. I lived despite it.”

Her words struck him hard. She spoke of her own experience and yet he heard himself clearly in the description. His mind went back immediately to the siege and that little hillock by the port in Minas Tirith where his fury and his battlelust had driven him so deep into the Haradrim’s position that he found himself utterly surrounded by foes and preparing one last desperate shield wall, doomed to fail. Had Aragorn not arrived in the harbor at that exact moment, he knew well what would have become of him. He passed a hand over his eyes, as though to wipe away the image. He could not let something like that happen again. He would not. “Perhaps you are right.”

“Of course I am. Believe me, I have thought much about this. In the Houses of Healing, I thought of little else, and Faramir and I have discussed it often. What makes a great warrior is not enthusiasm for war itself. It isn’t acting from excitement or rage or ambition or revenge. It is having something to fight for and committing yourself to doing what is necessary to protect those things and to return to them.”

He looked up and smiled. “I certainly have things to fight for. Now more than ever.”

“And that is why you’re going to be just fine. Loving your life is a much better motivation than loving to fight, and it will keep you safe in the end.”

A horn sounded outside, the clear call bouncing off the stone buildings and walls of the city and echoing on for several seconds. The time for departure had come.

She picked up his helmet, smoothing the long, flowing horse tail at its crest, and held it out to him. He took it with one hand while the other reached around her shoulders and drew her in for another embrace. She squeezed him tightly and then looked up into his face.

“Be brave, but be smart. And I’ll be here to unbuckle all that gear when you return.”

He kissed her on the forehead and headed out the door, helmet in hand. She watched as he strode down the hall, tall and strong. Just before turning out to the courtyard where his horse awaited him, he looked back and saw her watching. “I’ll be back soon,” he called to her.

She raised a hand in farewell. “I know you will.”

#lord of the rings #lotr #tolkien #eomer #eowyn #rohan #forth eorlingas #fan fiction #lotr fanfiction #getting older and wiser #siblings #check the content warning

[vampiregirl2345]

Driving in the united states tips:

1: If someone is tail-gating you, maintain speed. Slowing down could cause a wreck. Another thing is, if they have camera proof, they could get you for brake-checking, even if that isnt what you intended to do. Brake-checking is illegal if it can be proven because its considered reckless endangerment.

2: If someone riding with you tells you to speed up to catch a light, only do so if the distance is too short to stop AND you arent already speeding. In some cases, stopping hard is better than running the light. Luckily, my state has "if a cop didnt see it, it didnt happen" laws for red light cameras. Nevermind the potential speeding ticket.

3: If you get pulled over for speeding, dont admit to speeding. Tell them exactly the speed limit. Dont fudge it for even a few miles over. In many states, like mine, you can be ticketed for as little as 4mph over.

4: If you get fined for something in a different state that is legal in your state (such as the shade of your window tint or not having two license plates), go to court with proof of residence and proof that its legal where you live. Its more complicated than paying the fine, but do it. Paying the fine is an admission of guilt. Dont admit to a crime for something that isnt illegal where you live.

Things i just thought of at random that many people dont know.

#me #driving #safety #just a thought

[letthesunburnyourskin]

Aaron Minyard, cars, & driving

(sorry it'll probably be a long rant/headcannon dump)

TW for car accidents-ish (nothing gory but still)

I know a common headcannon for Aaron (or at least I've seen it a lot) is that he doesn't know how to drive because of Tilda's accident. And while I do like it, let me tell you about my hc

Aaron learns how to drive because it's control (and freedom, but we'll get back to it). If he's the one driving he doesn't have to put his life in someone else's hands. Every bad decision is his and his only. If he wants to be reckless or dangerous it's his choice. He has control, which he never had before. Control about whether he gets where he needs to be safely or not. (Which is also the reason why Andrew likes to drive, I think.)

It's also freedom, like I already said above. If he feels unsafe somewhere, he can just leave. Never had that before. He only had his feet to carry him places, public transport if he was lucky. But those two options are limiting, not quick enough. And Aaron wants his escapes to be quick. If he has to flee, he doesn't want to be caught. So driving it is.

Aaron is a cautious driver. Too cautious even, which is not a good thing. Being reckless is dangerous, but being too cautious is as well and he doesn't realize that. Aaron checks every crossroads, slows down even when he doesn't need to, puts his blinkers way too early. Because even if he has control, driving still scares him. He knows how easy it is to get someone killed with a car. He has that power and it's truly terrifying.

The fact that he can't take some roads or doesn't like to change lanes doesn't help either. I'm not talking about being anxious, but full blown panic attacks. Aaron can't pass by where Tilda died. He just can't. He tried, really really tried, but it's impossible. He tells people he knows a quicker route, or just that he likes the landscape better on that other road, but he just can't.

Like Andrew, he uses part of Tilda's money on a car. Nothing fancy, but something he feels safe driving with (after countless of research on the best second hand car to get). He never gets in a car with Andrew, even though Nicky insists almost daily. He just won't do it. Because he can't let Andrew drive. He needs to be the one behind the wheel. And also because he knows what Andrew did to Tilda and he doesn't want to be next.

He wrecks his car a few months before graduating high school. He lost control when it rained and ended up crashing into a lamppost. He got out of it without a scratch, but unable to get behind the wheel again. It's nightmares and more panic attacks at the idea of driving or getting inside a car again.

Andrew, in a very Andrew way, let this go on for a month or two before taking matters into his hands. He gets Aaron in the GS (which is not easy, as you might have guessed) and just starts driving around. A few miles a day until, eventually, Aaron rides shotgun without panicking. It'll take him almost a year to be able to ride in the back.

It's torture when Neil's the one driving, at first. But quickly, he realizes he'd rather get in a car with Neil behind the wheel. Because he is such a good driver. He drives the speed limit, turns his blinkers on, doesn't take risks, and always has a seatbelt on. Aaron will never tell him any of that.

Letting people drive him around, getting into the backseat eventually turns into a proof of trust. Aaron who needed to feel in control so much he drove while terrified lets other people behind the wheel because he trusts them not to hurt him, to keep him safe (and to not catch him when he needs to get out).

Aaron won't start driving again until years later, when he's settled down with Katelyn and she has enough driving all the time. And maybe he'll call Andrew to help him choose a car.

#aftg #aaron minyard #aftg headcanon #aftg aaron #headcanon #aftg andrew #andrew minyard #twinyards