#they were okay it was just like a slow tilt of the bike as it tipped over it was the funniest thing I'd ever seen

[samthestrangerthingsfan]

Out of The Woods

pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: A look back into our reader's past, and a run-in with one, too.

chapter warnings: slow burn,mentions of grief, parental loss, motherhood, swearing, alcohol(ism), child neglect, childhood trauma. Maggie fluff to fix it all <3

a/n: EEP EEP EEP, i know i know its a slooooow burn but we truly are just getting started. Enjoy!

chapter two: Tell Me A Lie || series masterlist

SEPTEMBER 17th, 1982

Freezer-burnt Egos sit three high on the olive green plate in front of you.

“Great.” Syrup hasn’t been purchased in weeks, so you slather each one with a smear of grape jelly. All served up with a side of tap water.

One bite in, and the sound of shattering glass startles the appetite out it you.

“Dad?!” You shout in a panic.

The sight that greets you on the living room is one that’s become familiar in the few months since your mom’s passing. Your father, slumped over in his beat up recliner, a shattered vodka bottle on the floor next to him.

“Shit…” you’re frantic as you rush to grab the broom and dustpan. It’s become a routine, clean up dad’s mess so that he doesn’t hurt himself when he wakes for his night shift at the Plant.

While it may be routine, it’s certainly not normal. No fourteen year old should be shopping for groceries, and doing laundry and writing checks to the electric company with a letter begging for them to give her a little more time with the lights on.

Every payday, you’d wait for Dad to pass out in his chair, and you’d take most of the cash from his wallet. It was just enough to get yourself food for the week and pay what you could. If he noticed the missing money, he never said anything, but you assumed he did notice that debt collectors had stopped calling so much.

“Bye, Dad.” You whispered. No response—then again, there never was.

The bag of glass was thrown into the trash on your walk to the garage. Hopping on your rusted out silver bike, you started the 2 mile ride to Hawkins High.

In truth, this has become the only slice of peace in your day. You could shut your damn brain off and just breathe. Not worry about the inevitable chaos that waited for you at home.

It was Friday, which means a meeting with the school counselor to see how you were doing since your mom died. June was…it was a time you’ve tried to block out. To suppress any memories or feeling from that awful day.

“Did you hear me, hon?” Ms. Kelly’s soft voice pulled you from your dissociation.

“What? Oh, mhm.”

She looked at you softly, tilting her head as a sign she absolutely did not believe you.

“Listen,” she pulls the file off her desk and turns it for you to see. “Your grades…they’re not at all reflective of your abilities. Your teachers think you’re brilliant, but the lack of effort on homework and tests is something of a concern.”

The pain of holding back tears began to prickle your throat. “I know, I’m—I’m trying. I’m studying as much as I can—“

“You’ve got such a bright future, just work a bit harder, hm?” Her smile was one of reassurance and confidence.

It’s not Mrs. Kelly’s fault. She didn’t know about what was happening at home, so she certainly didn’t know the impact of her advice.

“Work harder,” you whisper, venom coating your tongue. “Got it.”

The smile on your face is only there to keep the tears at bay. She excuses you to get back to next period, and you practically sprint from her office.

Where your legs take you, you’re not exactly sure. But the room is empty and dark and at this point you’ll take any refuge you can get.

So you sit and sob, heaving breaths and crying into your palm to muffle any sounds. How long you were there you have no idea, but it was long enough to hear the bell for end of the school day.

The door to the room opened, pouring in light from the hallway.

“Shit…you okay?”

His voice was so gentle and unsure. Backlit as the door closed, the shadow of his silhouette almost made him look like an angel.

Long shaggy hair, denim and chains and leather.

An angel--dressed like a devil.

You attempted to stand quickly, muttering a half-hearted apology, but you stumbled. Luckily for you, the stranger caught your elbow and waist.

“Whoa, hey just—here, sit for a sec, okay?” He guided you to the table across from where you’d sat, and ushered you towards one of the chairs.

“You’re not hurt are you?” His voice was so soft; a kindness you hadn’t heard in a long, long time.

You shook your head, “No, no. I’m fine.”

He laughed softly, “You sure about that?”

The tears in your eyes put holes in his chest.

“I’m Eddie,” he sat next to you on the table, “Who might you be?”

You whispered your name, and he smiled, then whispered it right back.

Eddie was gentle with you. He sat in silence for a few minutes, waiting for your breathing to return to normal.

What you didn’t know was how he watched you. The way he recognized the pain in your eyes—a kind of sadness that only people who’ve experienced it can understand.

He knew a bad home life when he saw one, and It made him angry.

Angry that someone could look in your eyes and hurt you. That people could see how broken you were and take advantage of it. Worst of all? He was angry there was no one there to protect you.

As far as he was concerned, that changes today.

Eddie cleared his throat, and your eyes found him again. “Look at us,” he nudged your shoulder. “strangers a couple minutes ago, now we’re acquaintances. Who knows? Before we leave we might even be friends.”

A genuine and true laugh escaped you. It’d been so long since you’d heard your own laugh, the sound alone was foreign.

Though for Eddie, it was a sound that made his heart beat faster and face turn rosey, even under the gross fluorescent bulbs.

“I’d like to be your friend, I think.” You smile. Crinkles formed by his umber eyes as he mirrored your grin.

Your hand juts out, extended to him for the taking. “You’re not a serial killer, right?”

His warm grip finds yours, “Not to your knowledge.”

There’s a pain in your cheeks from smiling so hard. “That’s reassuring.”

Eddie jumped up, offering you his elbow. “Whaddya say, kid? Care to cause some chaos and debauchery with your new pal?”

It’d be easy to say no. To allow yourself to return to the shell you’ve built around yourself in order to protect your heart in a way no one else would.

But you didn’t hesitate. Linking arms with Eddie, his scent invaded you—nicotine and weed and…vanilla? Whatever the combination, you’re sure it was uniquely and perfectly him.

“Whatcha got in mind?”

Eddie could have said anything and you’re pretty sure you’d have agreed. “Oh, sweetheart. Just you wait.”

“Mama! Do we have any straw’bies?” Maggie asked from the kitchen.

The smell from the chemicals you’re cleaning the shower with make your head throb and the sweat on your brow itches you for the ten millionth time.

Deep breathes. Deep breathes.

“No, Mags. C’mon, get your shoes on. As soon as I’m done here we’re going to the store.” You throw the yellow gloves down into the sink, giving them a quick rinse.

The weekend has brought some seriously good progress. Friday you’d managed to get Maggie registered for school, and start cleaning out the house.

Boxes of old newspapers and tchotchkes your father had kept sat stagnant, collecting dust and taking up far too much space. None of it mattered to you, so you’d trashed it.

All of it.

Saturday was spent taking trips back and forth to the Goodwill, hoping and praying your little car would survive after all the driving she did. You’d bought a few cheap gallons of paint from Melvald’s, this house was your home now—Maggie’s home. It was time to wipe the slate clean and create a place the two of you could fill with love and laughter and memories

“Mom?” Maggie mumbled, mouth full of banana as she watches you slink into your jacket.

You grabbed your keys. “Yes, angel?”

“Can we get ice cream? Wouldn’t that be a fun way to ce-bre-late me going to big girl school tomorrow?”

I need to find a damn job.

You do some quick math, adding and subtracting based on what you had left in your savings, and what you’d set aside for bills.

You drop to your knees in front of your daughter, getting right down to her level to place a big kiss on her forehead. “Of course we can. Good idea, Maggie-moo.”

Her dimples were so deep from her big wide grin, you poked a finger in each of them.

“Moooom!” She laughed, swatting your hands away.

“Whaaaat? I just love you! Now c’mon, we gotta go get your asparagus.” You hold the door and Maggie jumps onto the porch.

“Ice cream!” She shouts, making a mad dash to the car.

You chuckle. “Right, right. Ice cream.”

The store is a mere 10 minutes drive from home. If you ask Maggie, she thinks 10 minutes is the perfect amount of time to throw an impromptu concert from the back seat—room for encore included.

The moment your hands grasp the shopping cart, Maggie’s arms are up. “Assuming the position, I see.” You smile proudly.

Scooping her up, you plop her right on her bottom into the cart. Maggie wiggled, gasping as the two of you strolled past the chip aisle. “Don’t forget! We have to get some snacks for school too!”

“Right,” you braked, and turned down it. “Let me guess, Doritos are the perfect school snack?”

Her eyes are wide, clearly overwhelmed at the selection the Pete’s Grocery has to offer. “Can we gets the cheese ones?”

“Sure thing, Sunshine.”

Shopping is entirely uneventful. It’s mainly you budgeting and planning on dinners for the week. Everything bought has to have more than one use or purpose, or you don’t get it. A few jars of pasta sauce, some spaghetti, a loaf of bread, peanut butter and jelly. Chicken, canned corn, strawberries and bananas and a few boxes of mac n cheese. No the shopping spree Maggie thinks it is, but you’ll make it work.

“Alright kiddo, now the piece de resistance…the ice cream section!” You use your best announcer voice as you scoop her from the cart, and let her roam free.

She squeals. “Mom! There’s so many kinds!”

You watch her, taking in how the littlest things in this life make her the happiest you’ve ever seen her. You’re so engrossed in your daughter, you almost don’t hear it. The familiar tone that had engrained itself in your memory, the sarcastic “Sure, Robin.” that had been a staple in his vocabulary since High School.

Any calm feeling you’d had vanished, stomach churning inside you. “Mags,” you called in a hushed tone. “Maggie! C’mon, baby, just choose—“

The voices were an aisle away, and moving closer to you.

Maggie was in her own world, running back and forth to different doors in careful deliberation.

You could feel yourself start to tremble, calling her a bit louder this time. “Maggie-moo, please hurry—“

“Ho-ly shit.”

Of course Robin was the first to say something. She stood with her mouth agape, Steve perplexed next to her. When he’d followed her gaze, the two bags of chips he was holding fell to the floor.

He called your name like he was unsure. Questioning if the ghost in front of him was really his friend from all those years ago.

“Mommy! I founded the one I want!” Maggie screeched as she barreled toward you, clutching a box of Bomb Pops to her chest.

Your two old friends’ eyes went straight to your daughter.

Robin’s eyes were so wide, you thought they’d burst from her skull. “Mom?” She questioned.

Steve followed her up with, “No freakin’ way.”

Maggie chucked the pops in the cart, and stood by your side, your arms instinctively reaching for her. She must have followed your eyes, because soon, she too was in the middle of the staring contest the three of you had started.

She was quiet for a moment, studying them, and it wasn’t that long before she started giggling the tiniest bit. She covered her mouth, making herself laugh with whatever joke was rolling around in her little mind.

Maggie walked up to Steve as she laughed, and smiled her big toothy grin at him. “Hiya, Cheeseball!” She spoke through her giggles.

Robin’s laugh caught her so off guard she started coughing, and Steve was all smiles. “Excuse me? Who told you about my nickname?”

Maggie laughed, “My Mommy! She said your name is Steeb and you’re a real cheese ball!”

“Steve, Mags. Steve.” You were laughing, thankful for your daughter for saving you and for easing the tense moment you were seconds away from having to address.

“Nope, uh-uh. He’s Steeb now, from this day until his last.” She looked at you, get big smile taking up her face. Her eyes were soft, softer than they’d been moments ago. She looked back to Maggie, “And who’re you?”

Pride filled Maggie’s voice, “My name is Maggie and I’m six years old, but I’ll be seven soon! Mommy telled me birthday is Star Wars day.”

Robin’s brows pinched together, “Star Wars Day?”

“May the 4th.” You and Steve answered in unison.

The hazel-eyed boy looked at you, offering you a small smile.

Robin went back to talking to Maggie, asking her about Star Wars and her why she chose Bomb Pops. Steve walked over to stand next to you.

He plopped the chips in the top of your cart, and without any hesitation, pulled you in for a hug.

“God, I missed you.” He whispered into your hair.

You could feel the emotion squeezing your throat, “I missed you so much, Stevie.”

He held you a few more seconds, using Robin as a distraction. “Is…is she—“

You gripped him tighter, “Not here. Please not here, Steve.”

Steve Harrington was many things, but dumb wasn’t one of them. A bit of an airhead, and clueless sometimes, but not dumb. He’d seen it immediately, the resemblance between the two of you, and the one of Maggie and his other friend.

Steve let you go, looking over your face. “Does, um…does he know?”

With shame in your heart, you shook your head. “No, and I need to keep it the way.”

The for now went unsaid.

Steve nodded. “You haven’t ran into him yet then, I take it.”

“No,” you whispered. “I don’t even know what would happen if we did. Can’t think about it, not right now.”

Maggie approached the two of you, yanking Robin by her arm. “You were right, Mom! I do like this Robin lady.”

When the laughter died down, it was then Robin asked the question looming over the four of you.

“So, and pardon-my-french Little Miss M, but what the hell are you doing back in Hawkins?”

And with that, the floodgates opened.

You told them about what you’d been up to the last seven years, and what brought you back. Granted, you kept everything very Maggie-friendly—meaning most of your words were very PG friendly.

It was a weird feeling, admitting to all of the half-truths you told yourself, and how you had to push them out of your life. You wanted to tell them anything but the truth. To spare their feelings and the thought that you too could just as easily abandon the people who, at one point, were some of the most important people in your life.

"That's...that's heavy shit." Steve breathed.

You nodded, fully aware of the hanger-ticking-timebomb Maggie was becoming.

"We'll, uh...we'll catch up soon. Gotta get the grouch dinner."

"I am not a grouch." Maggie crossed her arms, and turned away.

"Of course you're not! You're just a girl who knows what she want." Robin high fived Maggie, and your heart melted.

You hugged them both one more time before loading Mags back in the cart, "Stop by anytime," You said with a smile. "You know where I live."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #ootw

[laiiaaa]

LOVE WILL TEAR US APART — CARMEN BERZATTO (part 1)

summary You come back to Chicago for the first time since Christmas five years ago. Seeing Carmen might just split you wide open.

length 5.4k

contents angst, childhood friends to not friends not lovers but a secret third thing, very deeply requited love and everyone knows it except them, family troubles/fighting (giving y’all the Berzatto special), takes place the year of Mikey’s passing so everything is still fresh n rly painful, reader has the nickname ‘Birdie’, there's some fluff dw, happy endings are overrated we die like men

note this was originally going to be 1 part but seeing as the doc is reaching 13k words…here’s just the beginning :)

Wind comes from the pale gray sky and bites at your cheeks and the tip of your nose. Fingers go stiff, a chill runs from the nape of your neck down your spine. Maybe you should’ve worn more than just your jacket; Chicago’s always been a little colder than New York, anyway. You tend to forget the little things.

The windows of the Berzatto house glow yellow with company, and you can hear the bustle just by standing at the door, frosted glass animated by guests. You can picture it like it was yesterday: white yellow lights around every corner, the table set in full with porcelain and silver, hollow presents under the tree, too much talking to hear yourself think. You can still go home to at least save yourself the trouble. Can’t lose if you don’t try, right?

For once, it’s Richie who greets you—not like Mikey’s around to do it anymore, to pull you into a bear hug and tell you how much you’ve grown up, to ease you into the chaos he struggles to navigate himself. Struggled, you have to remind yourself. Past tense.

“Birdie!” he calls out to you, opening the door wide before you can knock, half-expecting you to walk yourself in before meeting you on the porch instead with a big smile.

You look up at him as he plants his warm hands on your shoulders. He’s taller than you remember, but five years time leaves a lot in the ruins. “Hey, Richie.” You lean into the hug and into his chest to at least try to catch your breath, to try and slow down your heart’s racing.

He rubs your back ever so slightly. “It’s good t’see you, kid. ‘S been a while, I missed you ‘n that smile ‘f yours.” He gives you two pats and pulls back to hold you by your arms as he gives you a good look. His brows twitch, subtle enough to nearly miss it, with a sympathetic curve to his mouth. “You doin’ alright?”

Since Mikey died is what he means to add to the end of the question. Maybe it’s Since you up an’ left us. Or Now that you’re finally free.

You stick with the first one and just nod. “I’m okay.” Your eyes flit back to his face before landing on the front door, unease pooling in your gut. “A little nervous to be back in so long.” You let your voice go quiet, and you look at your hands and with wet eyes while your fingers fidget like a tall child. “And I…I miss him, y’know?…I should’ve—” you’re getting choked up now, throat growing tight— “I should’ve been here, or—”

His brows really furrow this time, head tilting to the side before he looks to the sky to bite back any real sadness that could come through in his voice, to keep you from seeing it. Bringing you into a hug again, he mutters, “Shhh, don’t beat yourself up about it, sweetheart. I know you miss him, I know.” A gentle kiss to the top of your head. “We all do.”

Growing up across the street from the Berzattos led them to be a second family to you—and, by extension, Richie, for how inseparable he and Mikey were. Much of your memories as a kid were the two older boys, already teens by the time you came into the picture: Mikey and Richie taking you out to ice cream, Mikey and Richie pushing you on the swings down at the playground, Mikey and Richie teaching you to ride a bike. They might as well have been your older brothers by blood. They always cherished and doted on you, and while it changed in manner as you grew older—from piggy back rides to intimidating prom dates—it was always there. They always cared. Richie still does. Maybe double as much to make up for what’s been lost.

You don’t cry so much into his chest. A few tears fall, sure, but you use the time to just breathe, to close your eyes, to stall. Sniffling, you pull away, wipe your eyes, and straighten your clothes, smoothing creases. “Okay,” you huff. “I’m okay. I’m ready.”

A knowing look. “You sure?”

You nod. “Yeah, I’m good.” Another sniffle. “Promise.”

Richie turns to face the house with you, opening the door while the other hand stays hovering by your shoulder. With the smallest shift in the hinges, noise spills out the door. Small talk in the living room, clinking of glass against tabletops, boisterous laughter, timers ringing in the kitchen, Donna’s voice rolling in. It’s more than you remember. Heavier. Hotter. Richie motions to take your coat and you happily oblige, left to pick at the hems of your sleeves rather than buttons and pockets.

“So,” Richie starts, and with the way he says it you’d think you look like you’re about to pass out, “How’s New York treatin’ ya lately? You a hot-shot lawyer yet?”

You laugh softly, partly to be nice and partly to stave off the awkwardness you feel, like you’re being watched by the rest of the family. “I just passed the bar this year, Richie, I’m barely an associate—”

“Right, right, right—all that stuff goes over my head. Whatever, you’re a genius in my book.”

You smile sheepishly. “Yeah, well the people I work with are just—they’re incredible, how smart they are. I’m a baby compared to them.”

He waves it off as if to say Fuck ‘em. “How’s the livin’ situation, then? You affordin’ it okay, eatin’ good, all that?” He looks a little more stern, more brotherly when he asks it.

“I’m fine.” You look up at him and smile to let him know you’re honest, that you aren’t just saying it to get him off your back. “I really like it out there. I made decent enough money as a paralegal, and I have a roommate with a cushy job in finance. We’re pretty close, but we don’t see each other often with our hours ‘n stuff. Not the best,” you shrug, “But I’m doing pretty well, all things considered.”

He pauses, looks you over to see you’re genuine. “Alright,” he sighs, pulling you into his side and squeezing you tight because he knows you hate it. “I believe ya.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, fuck you.” You’re laughing a little harder for the first time since arriving in Chicago, and it reminds you that it can be close to normal, coming home. “Where’s Nat? I haven’t talked to her since I got off the plane.”

“She’s upstairs resting.” He lets go and starts drifting to the kitchen absentmindedly—why, you’re not sure. “The baby’s got her in a mood, kickin’ ‘n all that, the little fucker—but Pete ‘n Carm ‘r down here somewhere—”

Your heart stops, and for a moment you can’t hear anything but your own thoughts, fragments of his voice and his laughter from memory. Your chest goes tight, your throat runs dry. You knew from Nat and Richie that he’d come back to Chicago a while ago, after Mikey’s funeral, but never in a million years did you think he’d come to Christmas dinner. Richie doesn’t seem as shocked as you think he should be. “Carmen? He’s here?” You nearly whisper it, afraid to be heard if he’s nearby.

He stops walking. “In the kitchen, yeah, why? You talk to ‘im in a while? Figured he’d’ah told ya, me ‘n Nat had to convince ‘im. A real jagoff about it, by the way.” His tone doesn’t say anything more than his words do. Maybe he’s forgotten about everything, or he’s trying to spare you. Maybe he never knew all that much to begin with.

“No,” you answer, quiet with an ache in your chest you haven’t felt in years. “We don’t…we haven’t really talked since the last time I was here…” And I don’t want to change that at the moment is what you don’t say, bile in your throat at the thought of peeling back scabbed wounds.

Before Richie can comment, a loud voice comes to you from the front room: “Is that my little Birdie?”

Cicero. You missed him, honestly.

He huffs himself out of his seat in the living room and welcomes you in the foyer, bringing your attention away from Richie like you’d been hoping to. “Oh, I missed you,” he says, giving a brief kiss to your cheek.

You hug him in return, but really you’re just hoping to get away from the kitchen. “Missed you too.”

Resting his hands on your shoulders, he smiles and looks at your face. “You’ve only gotten more beautiful since the last time I saw you. Like an angel.” He doesn’t let you protest, he only peeks behind you to look at Richie, who leans against the wall with his arms crossed. “Ain’t she beautiful, Richie?”

“Yeah,” he deadpans, unamused. “A real treat she is.”

Cicero looks back to you and speaks lowly. “Ignore that son ‘f a bitch. He’s just jealous ‘cause you’re my favorite.” He winks, gestures to the living room, and takes a few steps while he brings his voice back to a normal volume. “C’mon, tell this ol’ geezer about New York—can’t even remember the last time I was there, musta been ‘83—”

If the rest of the night is like this, you think, Carmen might not be so much of an issue. He could be nothing at all, like he always wanted to be.

He promises himself that he’ll say something by the end of the night. He has to, he thinks, and if not to avoid being an asshole, then to avoid getting reamed by Richie. Carmen realizes he has the upper hand, too, whether he likes it or not: he at least expected you to be here. That doesn’t make it any less terrifying to hear your name. 

The first time is when he’s cutting onions as Richie opens the door, and he gets lucky enough to hear nothing else but the door shutting afterward. An afterthought, a mirage maybe. 

In between that and the second, his name slips by your lips. You whisper it, of course, because you hate him—you hate him for the way he treated you, and for the way he didn’t, and for the fact that he wasn’t man enough to ever speak to you about any of it, or speak to you at all. And despite the fact you try to hide it when you say it, he hears you; he doesn’t think anything could keep him from doing that much. Especially not when it sounds just like you did years ago on those half-broken steps to the back porch, after everything went to shit and there was a hole in the fucking house and you couldn’t stop crying if you tried. He was there for you like he always was: letting you lean your head on his shoulder as you wept, one arm holding you tight to keep you grounded while the other hand nursed a cigarette to keep himself sane. And his name sounded just like it does tonight when you turned to look at him with bleary eyes so many years ago, whispering Carmen? so sweet he wanted to taste the lip gloss that flavored it. That night he did, for a fleeting moment. Before he ruined it.

So of course, he hears you say his name, and he knows it’s you. He doesn’t think anything could keep him from knowing you.

The second time he hears your name it’s like a confirmation. A confirmation that it’s real, you’re real, and you’re here, and it isn’t his mind playing tricks on him like it does when it’s late at night and he’s walking the streets and thinks he sees a girl that looks like you. The rest of the dialogue after the fact goes blurry, the timers going off turn into a monotone buzz, all he hears is chopchopchop against the cutting board until Uncle Jimmy calls you beautiful. He’s sure you are, but he doesn’t want to see it and believe it even more. Your heels click against the hardwood a few times, and he’s not sure where Ma went, but Richie’s standing behind him saying something he can’t decipher and he wants to tell him to Fuck off but he can’t, not now, not tonight.

“Cousin!” Richie snaps, pushing his shoulder. “Did you hear a word I just said?”

He sighs and looks over his shoulder but stays gripping the knife. “No, sorry, say it again—‘m listenin’.”

“Right. So when’s the last time you talked t’her?”

His hand squeezes a little harder, the knife suffers for it. “Talk t’who?”

A quick bang of a hand to the counter top leaves the onions rattled. “Don’t play stupid with me right now, Cousin—” a harsh finger points in Carmen’s face— “or I swear t’God I will fuck you up once this dinner’s over.”

He pauses. He looks past Richie into the foyer where you once stood but quickly goes back to work. Chop. “Look, I dunno, it—it’s just been a while, I dunno the exact fuckin’ date, alright?” Oh, but how vividly he does.

“Yeah? How’s five years to the fuckin’ day sound? Pretty damn accurate, or what?”

No response. Chop.

“You’re a real piece’ah fuckin’ work, y’know that, right?” Richie sounds about as angry as he’s ever been, but it’s different this time: it’s quiet, it’s controlled, it crawls up Carmen’s spine.

“It’s not—it’s not like I meant to, to, uh—”

“ ‘To, to, uh’ what?” he mocks. “To pull the shit you did then go fuckin’ AWOL on ‘er?”

Another beat of silence. Laughter trails in from the living room, and he starts to wonder if it’s you who made it ring. He shakes his head, scrunches his nose. “H—…” Rethinking whether he wants the answer to his question, he puts the knife down and leans into his hands before looking over Richie’s shoulder again. “How, uh…how is she?” It’s muttered, ashamed, the way he asks it, brows furrowed with regret and slithers of hope. “ ‘S she doin’ alright?” He heard bits and pieces of the conversation from just a minute ago, but part of him needs this: to hear it crystal clear, to have it branded beneath his 773 tattoo you traced with an anxious finger, to have the pain be inadmissible such that he can’t forget it.

Without needing to look him in the eye Richie knows to soften his approach. Carmen’s eyes are wet, he’s got that solemn air to him that he gets when he’s thinking about something that forms lumps in his throat, he swipes his hand by his mouth like the words were bitter to say out loud. 

He turns over his shoulder like he’ll get caught and looks down at the chef. “She’s good, Carm,” he sighs, nodding his head slowly and with raised brows. “Real good…Like Cicero said, she—she’s beautiful, ‘n she’s gotta career lined up for ‘er. But—” he hesitates when Carmen looks up— “The look on ‘er face, man, it—it changed when she found out you’re here.”

Something indescribable flows through his veins. “Wh—what d’ya mean?” He shakes his head in denial. “Like, like, it—what’d she look like?” He waits expectantly, and part of him hopes something hard and fast’ll put him out of his misery.

Richie swallows. He smooths a hand over his hair, lets it fall to the nape of his neck while his eyes dance elsewhere. “Listen, she…she just looked like—” He kisses his teeth, unsure of how to phrase it, weary of the first thing to come to mind and whether the subject was worth mentioning at all. He should lay it to rest.

But Carmen is ever the stubborn boy at heart. “Cousin.” Fingers drum against granite. “Looked like what?”

“...Like I’d just stabbed ‘er in the gut.”

The rest of the family is enthralled by you, though whether it’s because they haven’t seen you in five years and miss you, or because it finally gives them an excuse to make Lee let someone else talk, you’re not sure. But by the time they let you get a breath in it feels like three hours have gone by, though when you peek at your watch, it’s barely been thirty minutes. You’d forgotten how exhausting the family is when they’re all together. Your head hurts. It’s too hot. You could use a nap.

Cicero looks at you a little softer from his chair. “Would you like a drink, hon? I should've asked ya before we sat you down for an interrogation.”

“Oh, well,” you start, pausing to let it seem like you aren’t dying for that opportunity, “I’ll have one. Is there wine?”

“Of course there is. I’ll grab a glass for ya—” he begins rising from his chair, but you stop him.

“It’s alright,” you insist. “I don’t mind getting it—in the kitchen?”

He nods, and you’re on your way. You pass by Richie and the Faks in the foyer and try to hide the deep breaths you’re focusing on, eyes shut and shoulders shrugging as Richie eyes the kitchen before you enter like you’ll be walking into a war zone.

It’s exactly what you’d expect: Donna with a glass in hand, Carmen assisting, an ashtray full nearby. Natalie has joined them, so you must have missed her on her way downstairs, and Pete hovers beside her as she speaks to him with a worried look on her face, disjointed from the other two Berzattos.

You’ve nearly psyched yourself up enough to interrupt when Donna notices you, almost instantly placing her glass on the counter. “Oh, Birdie, I—” She looks happy, you think, but with her it’s never been easy to tell. “C’mere, honey.” She opens her arms to you and gifts you a hug, patting your back as she says, “It’s been so long, my beautiful Bird—” she pulls away to get a better look at you and plants a kiss to your cheek, just like Cicero— “Oh gosh, you’re so beautiful, all grown up.” She smells thickly of tobacco.

“Thank you,” you laugh, dazed by so much affection from her, “Cicero said the same, it’s just been a while.”

“Well—” she picks up her glass promptly after her hands leave you— “It’s true, you’re practically glowing. He knows what he’s talking about.” She takes a hefty sip like she can’t get enough, and quickly looks to her son. “Isn’t that right, Carmen?”

From where he stands nudged into the corner, focused on the countertop with nothing to do but wring his hands, his attention perks up to his mother. “What was that, Ma?”

You can’t ignore the fact that she hasn’t acknowledged Natalie nor Pete since you arrived; you’re stuck, looped in with Donna and Carmen and somehow obligated to stay there until you’ve been dismissed. You know how she is. Carmen won’t look at you, either.

“Look at Birdie,” Donna coos, and she gestures to present you to him. Your stomach turns. “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” She smiles coolly, looks to Natalie only for a brief moment to rub salt in the wound.

Carmen, reluctantly, looks at you. His golden brown curls are disheveled as always, made messier by anxious runs of his fingers every few minutes. His mouth seems caught in a persistent pout that he won’t let up, and if it were years ago, you’d stay by his side until he broke you just to keep someone in his corner. Beneath his eyes rest dark circles, and he wears a forest green sweater you’ve never seen before. There’s a split second of eye contact that has your breath caught in your throat. You haven’t been able to look at him in what feels like a lifetime, let alone hear his voice—not even over the phone. It’s different than you remember, a little huskier, more fatigued. You wish you couldn’t care.

He gives a shallow nod and a shrug to Donna’s question.  “Yeah.” His eyes meet yours accidentally again before looking back to his mother, apathy bordering on distaste. “She looks nice.”

You look nice. You don’t know what you thought he would say. Part of you wished he would’ve said exactly as Donna did, or that he’d use the word beautiful, or stunning, or pretty, even. But he’s never been one for words—his consolation offerings were limited to a shared cigarette and sitting beside you, and you’ve always resented that part of him since your last Christmas together. If he’d been better with words, it would’ve been just that; there wouldn’t have been the hand on your back turning into an arm wrapped around your shoulder, he never would’ve pressed his lips to your temple for the first time since you were in kindergarten, you would’ve never been close enough to smell tobacco on his breath. You never would’ve known what American Spirits taste like off of anxious lips or what it feels like to be worth everything and then nothing at all.

Donna kisses her teeth and gives you a sympathetic look as she cups her hand to your neck. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t listen to him. He’s just in a mood today.” She sips her wine again, which quickly turns into the rest of the glass.

That’s not a mood, you think. That’s just Carmen.

By the Berzatto standards, dinner preparation blows over without a hitch. The house smells divine, nothing is broken, no one has stormed out. Ma sits down with only five glasses of wine in her system. No one mentions the gaping hole in the seating arrangement at one head of the table—not even Lee.

Carmen feels the weight of it on his shoulders, and he thinks you feel it too. You sit for a few minutes as everyone settles with your head in your hands, eyes closed as you breathe. Every time you open your eyes they shoot to Mikey’s seat, only for your hands to cover them again with a sniffle. Richie keeps a good eye on you, even though they’re getting glassy from watching you, and he rests a soothing hand on your back before leaning down and whispering something Carmen doesn’t catch. You shake your head, perking back up again as you dab at your eyes with your sleeves, looking to Richie and mouthing the words I’m okay with a smile plastered on. Carmen’s skeptical.

Uncle Jimmy insists on saying grace as a way to honor both you and Carmen being in Chicago for the holiday, and instinctively he looks to you, looking for something to hold onto to let things feel normal with you, but you keep your eyes closed. Since you walked into the kitchen nearly an hour ago he hasn’t been able to get his mind off of the sweetheart neckline of your dress, or the locket pendant hanging close to your chest. Mikey gifted it to you, he remembers, when you earned your undergraduate degree—presented in a black velvet box when you saw him after the ceremony, you cried. Carmen wasn’t there; he was in Copenhagen, doing other things. He can’t quite remember what.

Grace gives way to a more quiet bustle of the dinner, where talking is more or less limited to passing plates and taking first bites, making sure everyone has said hello to everyone. He sits almost silent, taking a measly bite every few moments to avoid an excuse to talk. He notices you don’t navigate this dinner like you have the countless ones before: you’re engaged tonight, laughing with Richie beside you and looping Sugar and Pete into your banter; you’re no longer the teen you once were, who would sit at the end of the table with him to stay quiet and barely munch on dinner, the two youngest with Mikey to your sides, pestering the both of you to Eat, ‘fore Ma tells you to. And it’s not a bad thing, either. You always had that way about you like Mikey did, where you could make conversation with anyone, make them fall in love with you, make them think you’re their best friend. He’s always thought you were his, anyway. You look happier than he’s ever seen you. Ever since he could remember, he had a feeling you’d outshine him.

It’s like Ma said—you’re glowing.

It’s nearing fifteen minutes since the food being served when Sugar nudges him on his right. “You alright, Bear?” She keeps it quiet, under the radar. “You haven’t eaten much.”

He nods and takes a bite to cover his tracks. “Yeah, yeah—just not that hungry, ‘s all.” He hasn’t eaten today. It’s the nerves, really, of seeing everyone—of seeing Ma, seeing you. Brings him back to New York, where his morning ritual included huddling over the toilet and rinsing his mouth until he couldn’t taste stomach acid anymore. He’s hoping that with being in the kitchen all day, she doesn’t pry. “Thanks, Sug.”

She furrows her brows but drops the subject with a bit of a pout. “…Okay.”

“So,” Stevie starts, at the opposite corner of the table, leaning over his plate to smile at you from down the table. “Birdie—can I call you Birdie? Is that okay?”

You smile that smile you always do when you’re caught off-guard before shrugging lightheartedly and taking a bite. “Uh, sure. I mean, everyone here does.”

Richie makes eyes at you, weirded out, and Carmen tries to follow, but you only link with the older of the two. He’s shut out.

“Great. I’ve been wondering—why does everyone call you that? I mean, I know Sugar here’s got an origin story, so what’s yours?”

“Oh, this is such a sweet one,” Ma chimes in, hands over her heart. “They was so adorable, her ‘n Carmen.” The words have warmth blossoming in his chest and rising to his neck.

“Yeah,” you laugh, “I’m probably not the best person to tell you; I was really little.” You try to stifle a smile at the thought, and Carmen knows it’s the same thought as his: Mikey loved that story. “Richie’s probably man for the job.” You look up to the man on your left and pat him on the back to startle him. “Aren’t ya, Rich?”

“Uh, yeah, fuck that.” He nods to Carmen. “He can tell ya, Stevie, he was the one dancin’ with ‘er like an idiot, not me.” He shoves three bites’ worth of food into his mouth so he won’t have to talk anymore.

Sugar cuts in, “He was also five, he had nothin’ to do with picking that name.”

“Yeah?” he taunts, mouth still full because he can’t help but put up a fight, “Then you were eleven, missy, so you can tell it. You remember.”

The room starts spinning, there’s back and forth between Sugar and Richie, and Neil’s roped into it, and then Michelle’s convincing them to calm down, but Richie’s still going at it, starting to tell the story, but Ma says it’s not right, and Sugar cuts in again, and the room is still spinning and his head won’t stop pounding and there isn’t enough water in the world to clear his throat.

“Alright, alright!” It’s Uncle Jimmy now, almost shouting, waving his hands to simmer the room. Carmen would thank him if he could speak. “I’ll tell the damn story, you all settle down, eh?” He clears his throat, sips on his drink. “Our Birdie here, when she was real young, now she was a singer. All the time, some tune. Didn’t even have t’be a real song, she’d be hummin’ it anyway.”

You’re sheepish as Uncle Jimmy praises you, grinning to yourself and rolling your eyes at the embarrassment. Cute, Carmen thinks. He smiles and takes a bite of his food.

“An’ remember,” Uncle Jimmy continues, “This was late ‘90s, we didn’t have none’ah that YouTube, Spotify music bullshit, whatever’s popular with you people now—so anyway. We had this boombox for the longest time—”

“Yeah,” Richie interrupts, “Was a real piece a shit, that’s for damn sure.”

Cicero points to Richie while looking at Steve. “Correct. So one Christmas, many, many years ago—”

“Don’t make it sound so cryptic,” you giggle, and Carmen has a tiny fire lit in his chest, eyes trapped on your smile. He remembers that night—not so vividly, but enough.

“Right, right. I apologize, sweetheart.” Uncle Jimmy turns back to Stevie. “One Christmas the weather was especially bad—snow storm, crazy winds, Christmas lights flyin’ everywhere—and the power goes out. An’ our boombox ain’t workin’, got jammed or somethin’.” He shrugs, makes a face that’s unassuming. “So whatta ya do for the music, then? Everyone knows you need holiday music, eh?”

With you, Carmen laughs for the first time tonight. He likes it that way, uninterrupted by the noise of the other guests, who are all listening fondly and eating their meals. It’s like that special Christmas all over again. You’re so pretty when you’re laughing, part of him is a little jealous that anyone else gets to see you like this.

“So Mikey comes up with a great idea. We already got a singer, right? So we just need ‘er to do the holiday songs. So we get ‘er, ‘n we ask her to sing for us all—me, Donna, Mikey, Richie, Sugar, ‘n Carmen, that was it ‘cause ‘ah the storm—but she won’t do it.”

“They were tryin’ to force me, Stevie!” You smile up the table and back at Uncle Jimmy. Carmen beams back at you even though you’re not looking. Richie is.

“An’ she’s cryin’,” Uncle Jimmy continues, “An’ she’s all nervous, she can’t do it, whatever. Then our little Carmy Bear over there—” he shoots him a look with a smug and pointing finger, and Carmen flushes, grinning at his plate to hide from you— “Now he’s her knight in shinin’ armor.”

Everyone smiles at that—you, Richie, Sug, Ma, and Carmen, and everyone else—because that’s the truth. At least it was, for a while. You and Carmen keep your smiles downcast, hidden from the other, and Richie and Sugar make eyes at one another, looking between the two of you.

“He gets ‘er outta her hidin’ spot behind the couch where she was cryin’ an’ he brings ‘er a wooden spoon for a microphone, and he whispers somethin’ to ‘er—to this day I dunno what, coulda been anythin’ for all I care—and all of a sudden she wants to sing again. She sings Rudolph, Jingle Bells, Frosty the Snowman, all the stuff the kids knew, an’ she does it all with this wooden spoon, with our little Bear holdin’ ‘er hand the whole time.”

“An’ he didn’t even do anythin’!” Richie points out. “Just stood there, swingin’ ‘er arm like a jagoff—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Uncle Jimmy waves off, “But he did it for ‘er. And so,” he says, a finality in his tone, looking back at Stevie across the table, “Birdie is born. Our little Christmas song bird protected by the Big Bear. An’ the rest is history.”

Stevie smiles and nods his head. “That was sweet. Really, really sweet.”

“Oh,” Ma laments, “I just love that story. They were such babies then, so cute. It was always Birdie ‘n Carmy doin’ this, Carmy ‘n Birdie doin’ that. Always on their little adventures together. He took her everywhere.”

Carmen smiles to himself, head down as he eats his food. He doesn’t think of his childhood often, more so the teenage years if anything, when he was failing school. Hearing back such a memory brings up a sense of nostalgia—not necessarily for being a kid again, or doing those stupid things, but for how easy it was.

Ma is right: it was you and him together for the ride, up until it wasn’t. He never cared as much after reaching high school. You were in different buildings, and he saw you around but didn’t spend as much time with you anymore. He outgrew you, it seemed. Even in his early twenties when that fire rekindled, he devoted himself to his work. You were still close, closer than you were with anyone else in the family, and nothing would ever change that. But life ran its course.

And it ran pretty damn fast.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fic #carmy berzatto fic #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto angst #carmy berzatto angst #carmy x reader #carmy the bear #the bear #the bear x reader #the bear fx #the bear season 2 #carmen berzatto x y/n

[xetswan]

Youngest Shadow- Sick Days

One | two | three | four | five | six |

Since it’s getting warmer students around me are wearing shorter clothing even though it’s barely sixty degrees.

And collectively we all sit outside for lunch today, but of course it’s the one day I got sick. Plus on our big game day and due to my fever that keeps growing I’m going to have to leave school early and miss out on maybe being in the newspaper.

“He’s not here.” Jessica says, startling me as everything makes me jumpy from how shitty I feel. “Whenever the weather is nice the Cullens disappear.”

“They just ditch?” Bella asks, not understanding.

“No, Dr, and Mrs Cullen yank em out for hiking and camping and stuff. I tried the idea out on my parents, no even close.” Jessica sighs. Bella takes it all in and I cough earning a look from Jessica who was sitting on the ground. I just put my head down.

“I’m going to the prom with Eric! I just asked him, I took control!” Angela jumps on the table in between Bella and I, hugging my sister as I lift my head back up to smile. “That’s amazing,” my voice is hoarse and I cough as it strains my throat.

“Oh, [Name] are you okay?”

“She’s running a fever and her throat is bothering her.” Bella explains for me that and I’m internally grateful for it. “I’m sorry.” Angela says, rubbing my back then talking to Bella again.

She ends up keeping a hand on my back which feels nice. I repeatedly keep shivering from occasional breezes.

“Are you sure you have to go out of town?” Angela asks Bella, “it’s a family thing, [Name] is staying though.” I put my thumbs up to confirm that.

“Oh my god, we need to hit the stores in Port Angeles before the dresses get cleaned out.” Jessica gasps,

“Port Angeles?” Bella asks, “can I go with you guys?”

My face scrunches even though they can’t see it, Bella? Dress shopping? If only I wasn’t sick I would love to see this.

“Thank god, we need your opinion.” Angela says.

I end up leaving right after lunch, sneaking past school staff to get to my motorcycle I luckily got back from Jacob yesterday. I tried calling my dad but it just rang through, I’m guessing something is going on to where he can’t answer.

I take my helmet out of Bella’s truck bed and roughly tug it on my head. I lazily try to put my leg over the bike, almost falling so I hold on to the truck. Giving myself a minute as I feel dizzy. A horn honks, scaring me to the point where I hear my heart beat thump in my chest.

“[Name]! What are you doing?”

Alice? Wasn’t she supposed to be hiking or some shit? I go to talk but my tongue feels too big for my mouth. I take a deep breath. “I don’t feel good, I’m trying to get home.” I try to say as loud as I can, even then doesn’t feel loud enough.

“Want me to take you home?” She goes to reach over and I shake my head. “I gotta get my bike home somehow.” I take a few steps closer to her car. “I’ll have Jasper bring it over.” She smiles, I tilt my head, squinting as I looked at her.

Get into her car? Or drive home myself?

“Where do I put my keys?” I jingle them too close to my face. “Hide them on Bella’s truck tire, closest to the bike.” She instructs me and I drag my feet back over to my bike, doing as told. I then take my helmet off, putting it on the bike for Jasper.

I climb into her car as if it were a hill. Accidentally slamming the door behind me. “Sorry, thank you.”

My body faces her, I watch as she drives, wearing sunglasses. She glances at me and sadly smiles. “You should’ve stayed home.”

“I know.” I mumble,

After moments pass it felt like milliseconds and we’re already at my house. “Alright, we should get you inside and you need to lay down.” She unbuckles herself, going around the car and opening my door as I am pretty slow with my movements. “My body is aching.” I try to laugh at myself but I just end up in a coughing fit.

She puts a hand on my waist and she walks me to the door, making me feel more fragile than I actually am. “There’s a um house key under the uh mat.” I tell her and she bends down to grab it.

Opening the door I trip inside. We go over to the living room and i plop down, accidentally bringing her with me. I feel how cold she really is and I shiver from the touch. She giggles and stands back up.

“Let me call Jasper and I’ll find you something small to eat and medicine.” She boops my nose, leaving me to be alone as she heads towards the kitchen.

It didn’t take long for her to come back with crackers and a few pills laid next to me on the arm of the couch. “Jasper should be here soon. Do you want to watch something?” Alice sits next to me and I shrug. “I’ll get you sick. You should go enjoy time with your family.” I take a cracker from its wrapping and bite it. She smiles, shaking her head. “It’s quite alright, it’s nothing I haven’t done already. I’ll stay until your dad or sister gets back.” She informs me and if I wasn’t so sick I would be bombarding with questions.

I hear an engine rev outside and I jump unnoticeably from the noise. Alice stands up and I look down at lol the crumbs I have on my shirt.

The front door opens and I see Jasper putting my helmet and keys down. “Here you should take the medicine.” Alice tells me.

“How do I know you’re not drugging me?” I rebuttals and she scoffs with a smirk laid upon her lips. “What would I gain from that?” She teases, handing me a water bottle. “I don’t know, you could rob me.” I hum, looking at her through half lidded eyes.

“Sweetheart, I could’ve already did that by now.”

I shrug, stretching my arms and sitting up. “What’s the medicine?” I simply ask. “Ibuprofen. That’s it. I couldn’t find cold medicine or anything.” She tells me, I nod, expecting that from Charlie.

“Why are you guys helping me?” I look between the both of them.

“We want to help a friend.” Alice grins, i squint my eyes at her response.

“Seriously, we will leave if that’s what you wish.” Jasper finally speaks up. My eyes follow to him. “What if that is what I wish?” I say in a snarky tone.

“Then we will listen. We don’t want to over stay our welcome.” He winks and I’m caught off guard.

“I just want to sleep. I have too many questions that I don’t feel like will be answered.” I go to stand up and they try to help but I smack their hands away. “I got it. I barely know you two I don’t get this.” I aggressively motion between the three of us.

“What do you mean, [Name]?” Alice asks, both of them wear a worried expression. “Why can’t you guys go to the Quiluete beach? Or or.. why when it’s sunny your parents just decide to take you out of school?” My throat starts hurting worse from before, the strain from me yelling doesn’t help. I almost go into another coughing fit but luckily the feeling goes away but I am definitely feeling a shortness of breath.

“[Name], you should take a nap and when you wake up, if you feel better we will answer everything you want to know.” Alice assures me.

I huff, wanting to scream from how confused I feel.

“I want you both to… to leave!” I get extremely dizzy just like before, my knees giving out, Jasper immediately helps me. Grabbing onto my arms as I hold onto his. “You need to go to sleep.” He whispers, “your skin, it’s so cold.” I tell him, he presses his lips together, glancing at Alice.

He sets me back down on the couch and I lay down. “I don’t want to wake up to you guys here.” I mutter, loud enough for them to hear though.

My eyes open to darkness, and blankets over me. I feel around and I’m in my bed. I hear whispers next to me, weight on my bed beside me. It feels like my fever has also just disappeared.

“You’re up.” A voice says softly. I jerk up in response. “Why are you two still here!?” I sternly question them, getting up to my knees on the bed, backing away from both of them.

“You’re still upset?” Alice frowns and I tilt my head. “Duh, I’m still upset! I told you both two leave, you said if I told you to leave you would. Um so seems like the problem can easily be solved.” I remind them.

“We did leave, we came back when we realized nobody would make sure you were going to be okay for a while, darling.” Jasper tells me and I sit there for a moment. I shake my head. “Don’t give me a lame ass excuse. Just explain everything I want to know then leave.” I straight up tell them, tired of this game I feel like I’m in.

“I feel like you know everything already.” Alice points out. I take a deep breath.

“Why won’t you just say it?”

“To protect you.” Jasper steps closer and this time I don’t flinch away. “Maybe I don’t need nor want your protection.” I cross my arms.

“Why me? None of this makes sense.” I tiredly laugh, I feel like I’m going insane.

“You’re our person, [Name]. You’re like a metal and we’re your personal magnets. A missing piece you never knew you needed. You’re just stubborn.” Jasper sits down on the bed, pulling Alice with him. Both take my hands and for some reason they aren’t cold anymore…

And then I really wake up from what felt like a nightmare. “[Name]! You home!?” Bella calls and I look around, confused about what I just experienced. Pinching myself underneath my blanket. It’s real. And with this being real. They really did bring me to my bedroom.

“What’s going on?” I mumble, rubbing my eyes. “Dad wanted me to check in on you. I don’t know if you heard.” She comes up to my bed, sitting down next to me. “What happened?”

“One of his buddy’s, Waylon passed away. Attacked by an animal.” She tells me and my eyes widen. Not expecting that of all things.

She hands me a pepper spray. “Dad also wanted me to give you that.”

I furrow my eyebrows in response and she chuckles dryly. “He gave me one too, twins.” She shows me hers and I smile.

“Is he okay?”

“He’s okay as anyone could be in his position.” She shrugs and I nod, that makes sense. “Did you happen to pass by Alice or Jasper at all… today?”

Her body tensed from the question.

“Not.. Alice or Jasper. Why?” She adjusts herself better to face me.

“They took me home earlier, gave me medicine.” I explain and Bella shoots me a weird look.

“They were here?” I nod

“How was dress shopping?” I change the subject not wanting to think about the dream I had.

“Eh, I bumped into Edward.” And I smirk.

“Stop it.” She rolls her eyes.

Then it was silence between us. And as she goes to stand up I grab her wrist. “Wait, i um have a question.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you feel something.. off about the Cullens?” I bite the inside of my mouth, waiting for her answer.

“You feel it too?” She whispers,

“You heard about the Quiluete story?” I question.

“Jacob told me the other day.” She nods.

“Okay, I’m not the only one then.” I sigh, taking her hand. “I had a weird dream. I just I need to find out what all of this means.” I exclaim.

“That’s how I feel. I bought a um book. From the library down in Port Angeles.” She reaches down and I didn’t even know but she placed a book bag down there before getting on my bed.

She comes back up with a heavy old looking book.

“Sleepover?”

“I’m still sick, Bells.”

“I don’t care, scoot.” I do as told and we lean against the wall, I grab my laptop bed we use that light as a resource to look through the book.

Pages of masked creatures, menacing looking.

We then turn to the another page, this time it was a white mask with black eyes and a row of sharp teeth. “The cold one.” It read.

I quickly sign in to my laptop, searching that up, immediately getting beer pop ups on my screen. I irritatedly close them. “Look.” Bella points on the screen, it was a link to “The Cold One: Apotamkin.” I click on it.

Pictures begin to load of a seductive Apotamkin with his ice blue skin, devouring victims in tapestries, engravings. The creatures that are horrific portrayed to be beautiful.

Demons attacking villages; perfectly sculpted predators luring innocent women.

“All of this is gruesome murder and sexual innuendos.” I whisper.

Words at the bottom say:

Speed, strength, cold skinned, immortal… blood drinker…

I close my eyes for a brief second. Thinking about how Edward moved fast when Bella was in the accident, how he stopped a whole van. I never really questioned it before but now… I don’t know. How Alice knew where my house was… I never told her. How they all look young and are cold to the touch.

Another picture shows and it’s a man biting a white neck.

“It’s not possible.” Bella shared a look a with me, both of us struggling to make sense of it all.

Chapter five!!!

Also I’m going to start doing short Imagines! So if you want to request anything feel free!

#alice cullen #bella swan #alice cullen x reader #carlisle cullen #jacob black #esme cullen #jasper whitlock #jasper hale x reader #twilight x reader #twilight #edward cullen #jasper cullen #jasper cullen x reader #jasper hale #jasper #carlisle x esme #rosalie twilight #rosalie hale #emmett x reader #emmett cullen #seth clearwater

[moonshynecybin]

short fic! once again maïna got me.... her original post here, this one's like 800 words about marc hitching a ride from vale back to the pits... nebulously established relationship they are being very sweet !

“Are you trying to kill me?” Is what Vale says when Marc trots up to where he’s spectating on the side of the track, camped out like a king in some shady place where the crowds can’t get to him. He’s on his feet, hands on his hips and a frown on his face beneath his hat and sunglasses, staring Marc down as he approaches. He’s worried—he usually is, when Marc’s on the bike— but the crash wasn’t terrible, just a slide into the gravel. He shouldn’t be too mad.

Marc brushes some dust off of the ass of his leathers. The marshals are bustling around them, righting his bike and wheeling it past him and Vale. There’s no sense of urgency though, it’s too late in the session— that’s FP1 done for Marc, now he just needs to get back to the pits. Luckily, he knows a guy.

He flicks a gloved finger at Vale’s cheek, and Vale catches it, brings it to his mouth to kiss his hand, sweet and playful, a moment of connection just for them, letting Marc know he’s not actually mad. Marc can’t help but grin under his helmet.

“I’m okay.” He reassures, keeping his voice low, tilting his head a little. “I saw how lonely you were out here and just wanted to say hi.” He’s joking, but if he had to pick a place to crash, next to Vale isn’t the worst place in the world.

“Not funny,” Vale lets go of his hand to wave a finger in his face, eyebrows jumping, and Marc laughs, big and loud.

“No, it isn’t. I wanted P1.” It’s a bad joke— most of his are— but Vale smiles at him anyway, eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses.

“P2 for you, I think, if you’re done trying to kill yourself.” Vale gestures at the scooter behind him. “You need a lift?

“You offering?”

“I mean you can walk, but that would be less fun for both of us, I think.” Vale says, swinging a leg over the scooter and rummaging for the keys.

“The Valentino Rossi taxi service.” Marc says, climbing onto the back as Vale buckles on his helmet. He leans forward until the enamel of their helmets makes contact, an affectionate bump. He decides to settle his hands on the familiar, narrow space of Vale’s hips, glove catching on the fabric of his shirt.

“For you? I charge double.”

“I can afford it, my husband’s rich.” Marc says, and is rewarded with a bark of a laugh from Valentino and an affectionate slap to his thigh as the ignition catches and they start to move.

Vale pulls away from the track and starts to maneuver towards the pits, scooter rumbling along. Marc closes his eyes, enjoying the ride and the solid weight of Vale in front of him, the way he can lean on him a little, torsos pressed tight. It’s not often he can loosen his control during a race weekend, and it’s nice to not have to focus for a few minutes— to let Vale unwind Marc in that way only he knows how. They don’t get too much alone time on days like these, and Marc lets himself get warm— basking between the sun on his back and the stretch of Valentino in front of him.

It’s over too soon.

“Thanks for the ride,” He says, when Vale slows to a stop in front of Honda’s pit area. He pulls of his helmet.

“Yeah— you be safe, eh?” Vale says, catching Marc’s elbow when he clambers off the scooter. Vale lifts a hand to thumb at Marc’s cheek, and Marc has to lean down to kiss him, soft and sweet, lingering. It’s not the best time for it —he has to get back to his box, there are probably thousands of cameras pointed at them right now, and he has about eight different ideas for the bike setup to iron out with Santi— but right now he doesn’t care. He kisses Vale again, hand on the column of his neck.

“I love you,” He says when he pulls back— he really does have things to do. He grabs his helmet and starts to move away. Vale smacks him on the ass as he goes.

“If you crash again, I will not drive you back next time!” Vale calls as Marc winds his way towards the Honda garage.

“Yes, you will!” Marc calls back, not even turning around. He’s grinning as he ducks around the corner.

And it’s true. It’s something he knows for certain— knowledge that’s sewed itself into his bones— as factual and immutable as the sky being blue, as the sun rising in the morning. If he falls, Vale will be there to catch him.

It’s as simple as that.

#motogp #callie speaks #rosquez #my fic #QUESTION: is the use of ‘give you a ride?’ very american here bc i know i irish people made fun of me for that

[phantomenby]

Newbies choice

babyloutattoo89

Can I request a Poly!Lost Boys where the boys realize the reader is their mate and trying to gain their attention hoping the reader would pick them first? If that makes any sense?

Yes! Sorry this is so late, its a little longer than I was expecting it to be but I hope you like it :)

Paul sniffed the air mid ride, hair still billowing behind him as he slowed down, leaving his brothers to pass by as he tilted his bike towards the front of a backway he hadn’t seen in a while.

Something had caught his nose. 

A scent he hasn’t smelt before, and trust me this man had sniffed around Santa Carla from one end to the other, even in the places Max had attempted to prohibit them from entering in the past.

But this was new new. 

And as though the scent was made of magic he had begun turning, twisting the bike with him until he was heading down the passage and leaving his packmates to watch on in confusion before turning back to match his route. 

“Where you goin’ Paulie?!” Markos voice fought to reach over the loud echo of their engines through the route Paul was taking them down, the curl-haired blonde barely able see through the thick smog their bikes were racking up from the speed.

Paul ignored him, ears zoned out as his nose sent him in the right direction, nothing mattered more to him right now than finding that intoxicating smell.

–

A mere two miles away was the source of said smell.

The source of said smell was also in the middle of chowing down on some chili fries, with no thoughts in their head beyond the delicious - and albeit slightly overpriced - meal they had treated themself to after a solid seven hour work day with no break to eat.

“Wow, I’ve never seen someone eat that with just their hands before”

You paused your feast to glower at the attendant, who was also unfortunately your best friend, accepting the bundle of tissues she was holding out to you in moderate disgust.

“Thanks ‘chelle,” you mumbled between wiping the sides of your mouth, tossing away the tissues and turning to face her, there were no other customers at this time of night which made “decompressing” with Chelle so much easier, “you know, its your lovely southern charm that attracts people to you, the way you say words with such unyielding bluntness really shows off what a delight you are under all that hairspray.”

Michelle beamed at you, refusing to accept the sarcasm in your tone, it was loving enough anyway in her eyes.

“Speaking of-” her ears picked up the sound of approaching bikes before yours did, her wide eyes looking over you as her fingers tapped with excitement, “wonder who its gonna be tonight.”

The bikers were normally pretty okay by Santa Carla standards, as apposed to the groups that lived on the beach and acted all uppity.

No. The bikers were nice, at least from what Michelle had told you, in all your time in Santa Carla you had avoided the tourist heavy areas at night. You see Santa Carla was burdened with a “missing person” problem and it had led to your parents being too scared to let you out of the house after dark, even now being well into your thirties and you hadn’t told them that you happily went out into the night as and when you liked.

Your eyes never left your friend even as she kept sneaking glances towards the group who were slowing down behind you, their thunder dwindling as they curled round to the small corner of the lot Michelle’s food stand was situated.

“Hey do you think your boss will let you take a week off?” Chelle only hummed in response, leaning forward to rest her chin on the counter, eyes twinkling the same way they did when she took you to a dessert bar last weekend, “we could go up north a bit and-”

You snapped your fingers in front of her when her eyes moved completely away from you, “ ‘chell- Michell!” 

She jumped, grabbing your fingers, “hush for a minute.”

You watched with a pout as she walked away to the cash register where one of the bikers was waiting, his dozy blue eyes holding your gaze as long as he could before Michelle got sick of him and raised her voice to get his attention.

Glancing behind him you could see three others heading towards him, assuming it was the other bikers who had been riding with him you didn’t think much of it. Not until one of them walked past where Michelle was stood to stand infront of you.

“Hey.”

Wow, real interesting. You rolled your eyes, sending a look to Michelle, a subtle plea for help. Her smile only grew bigger as she watched out of the corner of her eye.

“You seem new, are you new?” He tried again.

He was hot, you’d give him that. And his voice, lord, there was no saving you.

After a solid minute of Dwayne staring at you with no response, David finally came to his aid.

“Well if you’re not new are you old?”

You scowled at that, looking up into another pair of alluring blue eyes, “so what if I am? We all get old someday, and technically everyones old to someone, so, yeah.”

Your voice drew quieter by the end, cheeks burning as awkward air settled in your throat. 

“Well you are certainly new to us,” Davids eyes grew darker as he took you in, your scent was truly something but it did nothing to explain just how exquisite you were in person, even standing this close to you was testing his control, “I’m David, and this is Dwayne.”

David. Dwayne. 

You’d never heard of them before, the bikers round here didn’t usually go by their own names, there were the cobras, the mountain riders and the lost boys. And the only ones you sorta knew were the mountain riders, and that was because their shop was right by your work.

“Cool, great names,” You fought to keep your cool, arms crossing in front of you comfortingly. David motioned his hand towards you, a silent question, “oh me- I’m Nik.”

David nodded, hearing the rest of his pack come up behind them. “And here are the rest of us, Paul,” he pointed to the man who had stared at you from the beginning, “and Marko,” then to the other blonde, the one with short curly hair who twinkled his fingers at you.

They were cute, all of them.

“Hi, I’m Nikki, or Nik I don’t mind.”

Michelle who had been watching between preparing their food took a free moment, coming over to where the five of you stood with a rather unnerving smile, “you know, Nikki’s free all night, you know, if you felt like dragging them out a bit.”

David caught you before you could stop her, turning to your friend with an equally evil grin, though his made your skin crawl a little. “Well if you insist, why dont we take them out, give them a ride?”

Pauls eyes shone brighter at the notion, taking the chance to offer his hand in invitation, “I ride best, much better than these clowns.”

This was it. This is how you die. 

When you raised your hands to say no Paul merely took one in his own, taking it as your acceptance of his proposition. Meanwhile you could only think of how your parents fears of the darkness was completely valid, hopefully when they had to make missing posters for you they’d use a photo less than three years old.

Marko threw an arm over your shoulders as Paul walked you to their bikes, his cool palm squeezing your shoulder, “oh this’ll be fun doll, Paul knows all the shortcuts.”

“Shortcuts? Shortcuts to what?” Shortcuts?! Shortcuts indicates a destination. You turned your head, barely able to see Michelle from how far from how poorly lit this area of the lot was, but you were sure if you saw her she would have that usual smug look on her face.

There was nothing you could do now, it was four versus one and you barely remembered anything from the self defence classes you took in college, or any of the tips your parents tried to pass on.

Paul walked you to the middle of the row, presenting his bike to you proudly and climbing on so you could get behind him. When your arms wrapped around his middle you felt him tense, worried you had squeezed too tight you let go a little only for Paul to place a hand over your own and pull it back.

David turned to face you, his eyes glowing far too bright to be natural, “you ready sugar?”

-

They had been riding around for much longer than you liked, and you had learnt pretty quickly that Paul was one of the worst of them all. And more than once you had stared longingly at Dwaynes bike as you saw him doing his best to avoid the dips in the dirt roads they had headed down.

Currently you were heading through a small patch of forest that sat along the coastline, the further you went the stronger your anxiety grew, you had barely been to this part of town during the day and you were sure you wouldn’t be able to find your way home when it was this dark.

Paul pulled to a stop at a lower part of the cliffs right by an old staircase that looked one bad storm away from toppling over, his bike kicking up all of the sand that had been carried up by strong winds that made you shiver as they blew past you.

Watching this David saw it as a chance to woo you a little, so he slid off his long trenchcoat leaving him in just a jacket and sweater so he could place it over your shoulders. “Come on, we’ll show you the best place in town, wont we boys?”

Marko and Dwayne whooped at his words, walking ahead as Paul sulked behind as David wrapped an arm around you, seeing you in no position to complain as the coat warmed you up.

They brought you down to their nest, to you it seemed more like a deathtrap but for them it was a safety net that protected them best in this world. Even their old sire Max couldn’t track them when they went far enough into the cave system.

David kept a hold of you until you were safely in the main cave, leaving you in his trench coat as he moved away to sit in his chair.

You didn’t miss Daivid’s hand brushing across your side as he left you, his eyes meeting your own with a warm look before he settled into an old armchair that was set beside an old fountain. The more you looked the more you realised that this looked less like a cave and more like some ruins from before the war, even the posters that were scattered across different parts of the cave were at least thirty years old. Maybe someone lived here before…

Marko saw his chance and took it, taking a seat on one of the couches and offering it to you. When he noticed your hesitation he gave your mind a small nudge, sending David a smug look when you came to sit beside him.

David didn’t care, he could work your mind better than anyone, and since you still had his coat on he knew Marko was struggling to smell you through him.

“So you’re new, but not new?” Marko toyed with your hair, purring at the smell of blood rushing to your cheeks.

You shook your head, “not new, in any way, I’ve been here awhile.”

He frowned, “awhile?”

“Mhmm, goin on over three decades now.” 

Marko froze, as did Dwayne who was coming to sit on the other side of you. If you had been here this long how had they missed you?

“So you just been in your house all this time?” Hot air brushed over your ear in a way that made you shiver, “never goin out, Santa Carla’s a night town you know.”

Yeah, you knew.

“My parents didn’t really like the busy parts of town, guess they rubbed off on me…” You shifted awkwardly as you felt four pairs of eyes burning into you with curiosity, it was hard to be someone who was both not from the suburbs who hadn’t also been to the boardwalk at least once in their life.

“Well, how about it then,” David stood, the chair creaking under his weight as he jumped up, climbing up on the fountain he began to prowl with his hands behind his back, “since you’re new to well, Santa Carla nightlife and we are connoisseurs of sorts, how about we show you round- teach you the best places to go.”

You met his eye as he stopped in front of you, “will you take me home after?”

He smiled, nodding, “yes, under one condition.”

“Yes..?” You were dreading this, next thing you know they’re asking for a spare kidney to cover the trip home and then-

“Pick who you want to go with first.”

You froze. "What?"

David's grin grew, like a wolf to a lamb he leaned forward with a sinister look in his eye, "you choose, newbies choice."

#tlb #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys #paul tlb #david tlb #the lost boys x reader #tlb x reader #poly lost boys x reader #marko tlb #dwayne tlb #david the lost boys #the lost boys david

[tomatoswup]

Maybe... ☼ 3

summary: a meeting with the priest reveals a bit more information about a certain individual that has you distraught. Vash plushie here to defend!

warnings/tags: reader and wolfwood sibling dynamic, mischevious plushie (biTE HIS ANKLES BESTIE!!!),, wolfwood is giving concussions with the way he rides a motorcycle.

A/N: ....hi? :'D sorry for the late updates hehehe,, i usually write late nights but i've been late night gaming with friends these last few weeks hehe,,, i'VE COME TO DELIVER ANOTHER PLUSH FIC THO☝️☝️

p.s yes this was a scheduled post :p

<previous

Encounters with the priest were those you weren't really that big a fan of.

Although he bullied you like a close sibling, he often got on your nerves with the slick remarks he would shoot at you. But how long has it been? Two years?

Has it really been that long?

It just felt like yesterday when you told him that his grey button up looked like shit and you two wrestled in the sand dunes.

Lovely memories!

"Woah! Look at this!" The Vash plushie gasped out in awe as he ran circles around the modified motorcycle, peeking at the shiny surface of the hot metal.

"Hey be careful!" You called out to the plush as you took slow steps towards Wolfwood as he pushed himself off the ground and brushed the sand off his clothes. Oh look! He changed the grey to white!

...hehehe...

"Well aren't I glad to see you! How long had it been since we last saw each other? Two years now?"

You couldn't help but chuckle, crossing your arms around your chest "Now why is it always whenever we meet you're stranded in the desert? Seems like a memory."

"You know God's timing is sadly always right haha!"

Yikes! You heard the tinge of pain in that one!

"I was making my way to town just a few ways from here. Need help from an old friend of ours." He smirked, putting those shades of his up from his nose and to the top of his head as you gave him a hard stare.

"Alright now enough with the bluffing.." You sighed, putting a hand on your hip.

"Bluffing? What makes you think I'm bluffing?"

...

...

...

"Okay yeah maybe I lied to you the last time about not being a part of the Gung-ho guns but it wasn't that bad-"

"Maybe?! Leaving a PRETTY important piece of information out there buddy! Why should I even still be talking to you, ya know what!-"

"Maybe if you listen to me, you bet your ass you're gonna wanna hear this." You watched as Wolfwood straightened his back and looked out into the desert plains.

"I heard from a few townsfolk around that a certain someones in town."

No.

"You're playing with me Wolfwood, there's no way-"

"He's alive." He breathed out, scratching the side of his neck "The idiot's just hiding."

Hiding.

He's...Hiding?"

HIDING!?! AFTER THINKING HE WAS DEAD FOR THE PAST TWO YEARS!?

You really were gonna kick his ass when you saw him.

You scoffed, putting a hand up to your forehead "Hiding? Got any evidence?"

"HEY!" The squeak of the plush rang out from behind Wolfwood, making the both of you turn your attention to him.

And with that, you met with the sight of the small plushie trying to lift the pistol above his head, fumbling as the gun was clearly too heavy for him "LOOK!" The little nibs of his feet stumbling around the bike seat.

It was Vash's pistol.

Your mouth fell agape "Y-you-"

"This is the only evidence I could give ya' right now." Wolfwood said from behind you as you marched over to the bike past him, softly padding the top of the plushie's head before grabbing the gun.

"Thanks lil' guy..."

You couldn't help but just observe the weapon he always held. Moving it around in your grasp as the sun shined down on it, you saw the dents and cuts of the metal on the surface of the gun. Not too much damage and in honesty, it was in pretty good condition.

The dirt, and sand it had been dusted with had given it a rusted look sure, but with some cleaning, it'll look good as new. Tilting it to the side, you caught sight of the bullets still in the gun's barrel.

Seriously...

Your mouth felt dry and as if they were shut with glue as you tried to push back the growing pressure in your throat. No need to cry now, you can't cry here.

The gun felt hot in your hands, each waking moment you held it felt as if it held the world, and maybe his own.

"Hey you!" Wolfwood's eyebrow rose in wonder as he turned his head to the little thing of a plushie on the seat of his motorcycle, giving him a stern eye and an angry hop. "Don't make them cry!"

Aw he was trying to protect you! Such a cutie~

Wolfwood held back the urge to laugh out loud lol "Now this thing was gonna be my next question!"

He leaned down towards the seat and grabbed the plushie by the hoodie of his poncho, the discontent on the plushie's furrowed brows made the scene more funnier.

"Looks like you've come a long way! I'm surprised you don't have a loose stitch if you're traveling with sunshine over there!" He pointed a thumb in your direction and just maybe you said an unflattering word back.

maybe~

"No offense!"

"All taken!"

"Well! It's nice to meet you! I'm Vash!" The plushie chirped out, swinging his little legs forwards to hug Wolfwood's forearm, before sliding down his arm and up his chest to reach his shoulders.

"Woah there! He's a happy one alright!"

Putting Vash's gun away in your bag for safe-keeping, you watched on as the plush messed around with the priest. Ultimately climbing and just standing on top of his head, he gave you a cute ":P" before jumping up and down.

Pft...

"But who would make plushies of him?" Wolfwood snapped his head towards you with a raised eyebrow "Was it yo-"

"No!"

You leaned on his bike, staring at the plush's shenanigans "I found him while I was traveling. Apparently someones' making them and he was the only one that was um..alive per say."

The plushie now hung off Wolfwood's necklace as you saw the practical 'irk' mark of annoyance on his forehead "Well if god decided to send a little angel down, I'll say you're lucky to have a good companion!"

He shot you a soft smile, one you really rarely saw besides of his usual smirk "You needed one, didn't you?"

You didn't respond, and just watched on as the plushie hung off his ear.

"Ow ow ow-"

Maybe you did...

Time passed and before you knew it, the priest offered you a ride to town on the bike, to save time and as a "team-up" in his own words.

And who were you to decline?

Bag secured on the back of the bike alongside Wolfwood's cross that you had gracefully booted out of the seat, you sat in the little sidecar holding down your cowboy hat with your hand.

"Could you drive any faster!?" You shouted over the sound of the engine roaring, your hair messily getting blown back.

"YOU WANNA DRIVE? BE MY GUEST!" Wolfwood retorted, keeping his eyes forward and his hands on the handles.

Resting your back into the seat, you kept your free hand cupped over the plushie that was sitting on your lap.

"This is so fun!!!" He wiggled around excitedly, having used a scrap of cloth he found as a small scarf that flowed backwards with the wind.

"Careful! I don't want you flying out!" You cried as the two of you almost jumped out of your seats as Wolfwood ran over a large rock.

God please let the both of you live and get to town in one piece, okay maybe you'll have a few scratches here and there but you still had a tall blonde to beat half to death!

You exhaled at the thought. You didn't know how you'd react if you saw him. Mad? Relieved that your lover was still alive? Maybe you'll pop a vein and faint.

Who knows?

Only time could tell...

#vash x reader #trigun imagines #trigun headcanons #trigun #vash imagine #trigun stampede x reader #vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede #vash plushie

[little-reader]

“The Son of A Monster.” Ch.4

Masterlist

Warnings; Death, blood, Slow-burn Sexual tension, Gay awakening (For both), Cursing, Negan is Readers dad, Enemies to lovers story. Fighting. Zombie apocalypse

You didn’t see Carl, Rick, Michonne, or Rosita for the rest of the day. Not that you minded, you needed to rest anyway. 

“Do you need anything?” You called from the shower. “Like from my dad or hilltop?”

Iris looked up from her book as you came in with just a towel. “Uh… Not that I know of. I’m sure I can just ask around, I don’t exactly know what I’m doing.” She huffed, looking back at the book. 

“Did you run out of anything? Food, meds… books?” You asked, She only shook her head...It was six p.m. and barely dark.

 You hugged her and rolled over. “I have to head to Hilltop tomorrow, Not to pick anything big up, but just talk to people, by myself of course,” you said. “Plus, I know Simon isn’t going to go easy on them, so I’ll just help them a bit, Simon can do the rest,”

You decided to stay there tonight. You cooked Iris breakfast in the morning while she stayed asleep. You left it on the nightstand and got dressed. 

You walked out into the sun and left to the gate, walking out, grabbed your bike, and left. You got there later than you would have liked, but by that point you didn’t care, all you need was to look around and get vitamins.

The doors to Gregory’s office opened. “Paul, Negan’s son is here to check out the place, he wants to talk to you.” 

“Fuck.” Paul said, looking at mostly Maggie, Sasha, and Daryl. “The three of you find a good place to hide, preferably alone and separate.” He said, ushering them out.

“Why Is he here?” Rick asked.

“He comes for the saviors, A dude named Simon helps him,” Gregory answered. “Your gonna get me killed.” He paused. “And my people of course.”

You waited outside, looking at the walls and the people around you. All of them working or walking around. The kids play small games with each other. The breeze was small, but it felt good. The doors opened to the museum… house? And Paul came out with a smile.

“Hey, come inside.” He said, holding the door open. You kept a stern look as you entered, thanking him. “So, I thought we had another week or two.” He said, turning to you. 

“Oh, that's not exactly why I’m here.” You said, with a small smile. You held out your hand. “Y/n Smith, I didn’t introduce myself last time.” You said. He shook your hand. 

“Paul.” He said that’s when Gregory came out. 

“Ah! The boss's kid,” He said, rapping his arm around you. “What can I help you with? Food? People? Or a drink?” He asked. You glared at the man. He was licking your shoes every chance he got. He was like a who wanted treats.

“No, You said, moving his arm off you and backing away. “I was here to talk to Paul, and look around.” You stated, tilting your head.

“Oh, you see, Paul isn’t the leader-” He laughed, staring at your glare. “And, you know I have more important things to do anyway, so Paul can show you everywhere… every room.” He said, looking over to Paul. He left, going into the room, that now doesn’t have that weird painting.

“Does he always bullshit?” You asked, Paul only nodded and walked you into the dining room, and to a small table. “I just need something small.” You said. Walking outside. 

“Anything.”

“I was just wondering if your doctor had vitamins?” You asked. He looked at you a little weirdly. “My wife’s pregnant, I just wanted to talk to him, or see if you knew.” Paul looked surprised. 

“Okay, yeah we have some.” He said, ushering you to follow him. “You look a little young to have a wife.” He said as you walked. 

You chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what I told my dad. He didn’t take it too well. But I and Iris aren’t,” You waved your hands around a bit, and Paul nodded with a small smile. “She's not exactly my type either.” You said as you entered the trailer. 

You were given the bottle of vitamins and told when she should take them, and how much she should eat a day. You listened closely, nodded, and left. The place was quiet, small, and overall a great place to run.

“I would stay longer, But I have to go. It was nice you meet you.” You said, Holding your hand out. Paul shook it then Gregory.

“Uh, you too,” Gregory said, a slight shudder.

You started to leave before stopping. “Oh, and I almost forgot..” You paused, walking over to him and tilting your head, before smiling. “I wanna meet the people who came here earlier.”

Paul looked up from the ground and Gregory's eyes went wide. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” He exclaimed. You only laughed. 

“Yeah… I think you do.” You said, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it, “At first, I thought maybe your people regularly go out of the walls you have built. But, as I continued to look around, I realized you have almost an enclosed community. Paul is certainly the only one who goes out, and Gregory… well you're just a pussy. So! Who’s tracks were outside?” 

Paul walked down the hall with the group, Maggie, Sasha, and Daryl was still hidden. “Gregory-” Rick started as the door opened. He paused as he came more into the room and the door closed. 

You sat in Gregory’s chair, with a glass of liquor in your hand and not a single bit of happiness in your features. You sighed and waved to the chairs. Rick sat down and the others stood. 

“Before I start scolding you like a pregnant teen, I need you to understand something.” You said, passing him a drink and leaning forward. “1. I am absolutely scared of you and your girlfriend or whatever you guys are, your son too.” You said, keeping eye contact with him. He gave a confused look. “But I’m more afraid of my father. And If he finds out I’m here talking to you guys and not at Alexandria, he’ll break my shit up.” You stated. “So this, this never happened.”

“I-” Rick paused and nodded. ‘We were just making deals, okay?” He said.

“Deals are fine, but I’m supposed to be watching you all.” You said, tilting your head. “Mostly your son.” You said. “Next time you go out, and Carls with you, I’m going.” You started and stood. You had a lot of time to think when you realized they were hiding here, and you weren’t stupid. 

You decided not to say anything and left, waving them off.

When you returned, Iris was outside and sitting in a chair on the porch. You shook the bottle as you reached her spot. “Got you these.” You said. She smiled and grabbed them. “Also, everything you need to know. I asked Everything.” You said, handing her the sheet of paper. 

She smiled at you and thanked you. ‘It’s late, let's get to bed.”

–Carls POV–

The group went to the kingdom after the whole ordeal with you and Gregory. Although Carl didn’t do any talking, he sat and watched. He knew that the “King” Was contemplating whether or not he should have his people conspire with them and Hilltop.

Carl looked out the window and into the town. It was almost night and the sun was starting to set. Ezekiel had invited them to say the night so they wouldn’t be engulfed in the night by the time they got back. Y/n was gonna be pissed, he was supposed to watch him but had to wait another day.

Carl sighed as he heard the group talking through the wall.  He took off his hat and boots, along with his flannel, and hung them up. There was something Carl couldn’t scratch off of him. The look in your eye when you caught them.

And no, not the pissed-off look you gave. But something deeper. Your face showed clear signs that you were angry but your eyes gave… impressed? Or expected, like he knew you all were going to do something to fight for yourself. 

Carl sighed and rolled into bed, staring at the wall as he drifted into thought. 

Carls's eyes opened slowly. He was in a field, one so bright he had to cover his eyes, and with birds flying above him. He sat up, feeling the top of his head, there was no hat, just his hair, which was short than how he had it now. He blinked, then turned. “Papa!” A small voice called. Carl looked over to see... You holding a child and spinning him around. You both were laughing and screaming. You looked slightly older, taller, and broader.  

Carl was pushed slightly as small arms wrapped around him in a hug. “Daddy! Home.” The smaller child whined. The kid climbed into his lap as he watched the wind blow the overgrown leaves. 

“Hey.” A deep voice appeared beside him as you walked over, the other child in your arms. You bent down and grabbed his chin, kissing him.

Carl opened his eyes. The window let the light pour onto his face. He breathed in and out before sitting up and touching his lips before wiping them and standing up.

 A knock came on the door. “Get ready, Carl. We're about to leave.” Michonne called through the door. Carl sighed and grabbed his things, putting his shoes and flannel on and grabbing his hat from the table. He left out into the hall and greeted the others. 

“We got to get home soon,” Rick said as they headed out to the gate.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

You looked at the time. It was now noon and they still weren’t back. You sighed and left to the kitchen, going through the pantry, looking for food to eat. You settled on ravioli. When you would make it, You could smell it from a mile away. Your mother taught you how to make it homemade. 

You took out the supplies, but that's when they showed up, you looked out the window to see the gates open and then trucks roll in. You sighed and started to put everything up, hoping your dad didn’t show up. 

You walked to the house your wife stayed in and where they kept the food. You knocked on the  garage door as you walked closer to Simon. You already told the people not to go into Iris’s room. 

“Hey, Y/n!” Simion said, looking over at you with a smile. “Just visiting.” He said with a wink.

“Hey, Simon.” You said back, looking at the others. “It’s not stock-up day, why are you doing here?” You asked. 

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Simon asked, you looked around, noticing how empty the shelves were.“Daryl got out, the same day Carl busted your ass.” Ignoring the last comment, you sharply looked at Rick, making eye contact. Rosita looked at you and Rick. 

“Hm, that's funny.” You said, looking back at Simon and smiling. “Well, I’ve got a little cooking to do.” You said. “I’ll be going, tell dad I said Hi,”  You turned around and 

“Ah ah, not so fast,” he said, holding out a radio. “Your daddy wants to know how his little girl is doing,” He said in a mocking tone. You rolled your eyes, giving a quick “Shut the fuck up” Before leaving upstairs.

You sighed and rubbed your eyes before pressing the button to voice. “Dad, you there?” You asked, sitting on the counter in the kitchen. There was a slight pause before someone started speaking. 

“This is D, who is this?” The other line cut off. 

“Y/n, dumbass. Why the fuck would I say, Dad?” You replied. It took about thirty seconds before you got a reply back.

“Y/n. Finally, what took so long?” Your dad asked. “I told you, I need you to check in with me every few days.”

“It hasn’t been a few days.” You said. “That's not the point. Everything running smoothly. Is this about Daryl?” You questioned, your eyes looking around the room.

You kept conversating back and forth. Giving him a few details about everything and how you were doing before Simon came to get his radio back. “Bye kid… and Do not disappoint me,” Negan said before you handed the radio back. 

“You heard the man,” Simon Said as you lead him out. As the trucks pulled out, and the gates shut, you turned to Rick. 

“I don’t give a fuck what you do, but you better fucking find out who did that shit.” You said, turning to leave. You stopped and walked over to Carl, grabbing his arm, and dragging him with you. “And I have TO WATCH HIM YOU KNOW!” You yelled at them. “It’s MY JOB!”

Carl pulled back by the time you reached Aaron's house. “What the hell,” Carl muttered and you turned to him.

“Yeah, keep what the hell-ing me.” You started to walk again, ushering him to follow. “I told you guys, I have to watch you. If my dad, shit, even if Simon finds out, I’m fucked.” You said, walking up the stairs of the grimes house.

“What’s he gonna do, take your baseball bat and throw it off a cliff.” He said, sarcastically. 

“You should be a comedian.” You blankly stated as you entered the kitchen. You both were quiet while you got the things out of the pantry and laid everything out. 

“What are you making?” Carl asked, looking over from the counter. You looked over with a hum. “Ravioli.” You said simply. “With cheese inside.”

“Why is your family so obsessed with a noodle of some kind?” He asked, sitting back in his chair. You sighed and continued to ignore him as you started to make the dough. You're glad that your dad gave you eggs and oil before leaving, plus a jar of pesto sauce. “If you're just gonna cook for the next hour, I’m gonna go.”

You turned and pushed him back in his seat, softly, before turning back. “Two hours actually, depending on how annoying your gonna be.” You said as you started whisking the dough. Carl only huffed and shuffled. “And you're not leaving, that's what you get for leaving for almost two days. My job to know where you are.” You mumbled the last part. You paused in thought, before turning around and wiping your hands. “You can help me. Wash your hands.”

“What-” You cut him off, “Wash your hands, your helping.” You said, taking his hat off as you walked by and threw it in the hallway. Carl rolled his eyes and grabbed the soap. 

You grabbed a bowl and pan, and oil before turning on the stove. “Okay, what now?” Carl asked, coming beside you. You grabbed an apron and threw it on him. 

“You're gonna finish assembling the dough, I’m doing the sauce.” You said,  pouring the olive oil into the pan. “Start by whisking it in the middle as I did before.” 

Carl started to do circles as you added crushed garlic and pesto sauce into the pan. Then you grabbed the bowl and placed it next to Carl. “That's for the cheese, but we’ll have to do that later.” You said, mixing the pesto and garlic. 

Carl looked at you. “How do you know how to make all of this? You don’t even have a cookbook.” He asked, looking at you sideways as he started again.

You tapped your head. “I remember how to make it. I used to make it all the time, even after this shit happened I… I made it for my mom when she was sick.” You said. You stared at the pan and sat the wooden spoon down. You then started to pour the heavy cream in. 

“Did she get bit?” He asked after a few quiet seconds. You shook your head and just continued to stir until you let it sit and pushed back. You looked over at Carl and then at the dough, it was barely done. 

“Jesus.“ You mumbled and came behind him, reaching over him and moving his hands for him. “Like that, not the petty ass way you were just doing it.” He scoffed and you could feel the eye roll. You kept behind him, with your hands right beside his and you pointing out a few mistakes. You reached over to the pan on the stove and turned it off, moving the pan to another burner.

“And then curve it to the middle?” Carl asked, turning to look at you. His head almost collided when turning to look up at you. You looked into his eyes with a slight smirk. You nodded, taking your hands off of him and moving to the sauce, moving it back to the hot burner and adding cheese to it. 

“After you finish with the dough, wrap it up and put it in the fridge. Then, we can make the cheese that goes inside it.” You said, stirring the sauce around. He nodded and started rolling the dough, making it into a sphere and looking through the cabinets for plastic wrap. He wrapped the dough in the plastic and put it in the fridge as you set a timer for an hour and left the sauce in a container to sit.

“I should have made that sauce later.” You started to clean up. Carl swept the small mess of flour on the floor while you re-sanitized the counters. It was silent the whole time, which made you anxious. You threw away the trash and placed the cloth down, sighing and turning around, watching him sweep slowly.

Carl dumped the flour out of the dustpan and into the trash before laying the broom in the closet. Carl turned around with a raised eyebrow, “What?”

“What ya’ wanna do for the next forty minutes.”

You had a timer in your pocket as you climbed the walls and started walking into the forest. Carl was walking a fair distance behind you as you took the lead. “Where are we going?” He called from his spot as he looked around. 

You turned, walking backward. “I’m not telling you, come on.” You said, turning back and walking on. You stopped and waited for Carl to hurry up. When he finally reached you, you pulled your hands up above your head. “Welcome! To my hangout zone, we're gonna drop a few things off and come back after the food is done. It takes a while to get down here.” You said, going inside. It was logged cabin, it was still unfinished but it worked. It is two stories, has three bedrooms and two bath, and is completely solar-powered but has no water. “I found this place before we met your people, and I like to come here and hang out or get away from everyone.” You said, turning the lights on. “There's room for anything you could want in the world we have now. A garden, a life.” You sighed. “Except water, But I’m sure I can find out how to do that.” 

“Damn,” Carl said, looking around and sitting on the couch. “This is nice and quiet.” He said, watching as you dig through your bag and set a few things down. 

“Yeah, I’ve also slept here before. I covered all the windows so no one can see the light.” You stated, pointing to the windows. You looked at your timer, you had just enough time to get back. “Okay, let’s get our asses back home.” You said. “We can come back soon.”

You both walked outside as you turned off the light and closed the door. You walked behind him, again, at a distance. You also knew he probably didn’t like you much. “You don’t have to walk so far Carl, you or I could get jumped any minute.” You said as he looked back at you with that stupid stare. “Hey, I’m just saying.” You said, putting your hands up in the air and looking off to the side. 

You stayed like that for a while, well not that long but it felt like an eternity. You huffed and jogged beside him. You bumped his shoulder. “Don’t be an ass.” You said, looking at your feet as you walked. “I get your father hates mine, and my dad killed your friends, but you get that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, right?” You asked. “Plus, I’m only like a year older than you, and we’ve got similar heights, I’m just taller.” You said. 

Carl hummed and bumped your shoulder harder. “Sure.” He said, looking you in the eye as your smile widened. 

“Well that's final, we are now officially friends!” You said, doing jazz hands.

“I didn’t say that,” Carl said with an eyebrow raised.

“Too bad.” You replied with a smirk. “You signed a contract with the devil ever since you pointed that gun at my men, which was a badass move.”

Chapter 5

#carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x male reader #negan x reader #dad!negan #negan x son!reader #negans son #negan #negan smith #Rosita Espinosa #Rick Grimes #yln #male reader #carl x reader #twd daryl #twd #twd x reader #twd x you #The Walking Dead #the saviors #The Walking Dead Characters

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Omg, obviously I love the way you write Steve. But the way you write and characterise Eddie was wonderful!! He was so lovely

Maybe a little scenario where shy/anxious reader is having a bad day so Eddie lets her sit on his lap and play with his rings while he reads the Hobbit out loud to her?

Thank you so much lovely! 🧡 I hope this is okay for you!

You didn’t even knock on the trailer door, not anymore.

The living area was quiet as you tumbled in, a whirlwind of bag straps and untied laces, the air tripping you up in your haste to get inside and escape the heat. Your day had been too long, melting inside of the General Store as you tried to keep the pout off of your face.

You’d promised Joyce you’d help out whilst the store looked for another employee, a short term gig that earned you some extra cash during the summer and the older woman was all too grateful, buying you lunch as thanks.

Normally you wouldn’t mind, but the skies outside the front windows were painfully blue and the sun shone through, gifting you a few new freckles and a fresh burn to your nose, skin tender when you wrinkled it.

With a severe lack of customers, Joyce had told you to leave early and you’d finsihed stacking the shelves with more energy than you’d had all day, pressing a quick kiss to the woman’s cheek as you called out your thanks and grabbed your bike from the alley.

The ride over to the trailer park blessed you with a little breeze, you picked up just enough speed in your excitement that the wind caught your hair, cooled your face down and whipped at your bare legs.

You didn’t wait for Eddie to greet you, in fact, you hardly gave him enough time to move from where he’d been lazing in his bed, curtains closed to keep the heat out and his shirt stripped off.

You flew down the hall into his room, smile wide as he started at your sudden appearance before he grinned, eyes soft on you.

“Hey baby,” he sat up, placing down the book he’d been holding, the cover worn and loved, the pages dog-eared and faded. “You’re early-”

He was cut off when you let yourself fell into him, a small oof leaving his lungs as you crawled up his body and dropped yourself on top of him.

Your face found your place in the crook of his neck, your legs between his as he happily took your weight, arms coming to wrap your waist and hold you to him.

Eddie nudged his nose into your cheek, a soft push that made you smile, that heart thumping, face sore kinda smile. You moved for him - melted, really - tilting your chin like he wanted you to, up and and up until he could reach your lips and press a kiss there.

A hello kiss, an ‘I’ve missed you’ kiss, achingly soft, a deep slide of his lips between yours, slow and lazy, like the summer heat outside. It made him hum happily, a pretty noise of content that made your heart sing and your chest burn.

“Hi,” you greeted when you finally parted, tucking your head back under his chin, face pressed to his bare chest and your fingers finding the chain there.

“Bad day?” Eddie asked, sensing your mood.

You were curled up small against him, needing to be close, hands curled around the guitar pick he wore like you were scared he was going to up and leave.

You shook your head, gave a half shrug, a noise of uncertainty at the back of your throat because it wasn’t, not really. The heat had made you lazy, too tired and your body slow, but there had been an ache bubbling in the out of your stomach all day and it wasn’t until Eddie’s trailer came into view that you had realised you had just missed him.

“Long day?” The boy guessed again, but he spoke gently and quiet for you, voice a husky murmur ‘cause it matched the mood, the way you were stretched out nice and soft on top of him.

He ran a hand over your back, fingers playing a beat on the bumps of your spine and you wriggled, too affected by his touch.

“I guess,” you told him, words pushed into the column of his throat and Eddie hummed again, a sound of ‘oh okay, I know, I got you.’

“Wanna read with me?”

His question made the last of that ache melt away, the knot in your chest dissolving because Eddie didn’t push, didn’t pester. He just pushed a sticky sweet kiss to your forehead and smiled when you nodded.

You let him shuffle you around, manhandling you with ease until he was sitting against his headboard, bare legs splayed out in his cotton shorts and you were sitting pretty between them.

He smoothed out your skirt, slid a warm hand over the inside of your thigh, just ‘cause he could and it made you squeak, before pulling you against his chest, your back pressed to him.

“There we go sweetheart, comfy?”

You nodded, eyes already drooping. You were engulfed in Eddie, smoke and spice and summer. He picked the book back up, pages bent from where he’d abandoned it in favour of your touch but he found where he’d left off, chest rumbling against you as he started to read aloud.

He was careful with it, the words rolling off his tongue easily ‘cause he’d read The Hobbit over and over again. He taught you names of the different characters, explained the story as he went and Eddie his his grin in your hair when you reached out to where he held the book in front of you both, caging you in with his arms.

Your fingers found his, your touch idle on his silver rings, spinning them around each digit as you listened to his low murmur, his voice honey and whiskey as he whispered magic into your ear.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie baby blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie Munson blurb #Eddie Munson imagine #Eddie Munson oneshot #Eddie Munson fic #stranger things fic

[ynisreal]

wires (9) - michael afton x reader

summary: Ennard visits you. Michael meets Elizabeth. tw: Michael has a gun?

The wind whistled in your helmet, the sound being the result of the clash between the heavy material and the cold night breezes. Michael's broad torso protected your body from the cold air mass on the way to your house, only your helmet-wrapped head was resting against the man's shoulder. You were both in a comfortable silence, which showed how tired you both were from the hard work you had to put in at the establishment. Tomorrow, your day shift promised the same amount of activity, given that many of the tasks had not been completed, such as cleaning the bathroom and disposing of all the garbage that had accumulated during the days of the investigation.

"We're almost there," Michael announces softly, but with an elevated tone, given the sound of the engine and the wind cutting through his voice. You tighten your arms around his waist as a sign of understanding. Without a verbal response from you, Michael asks: "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, just a bit tired," you reply, bringing your helmet close to Michael's helmet to make sure he hears. Michael would immediately stop the bike if he didn't hear your answer to his question, with the intention of checking on your well-being. However, the bike didn't stop and Michael nodded positively, signaling that he had heard.

When you arrive in your neighborhood, Michael slows down the motorcycle and soon your house comes into view at the side of your field of vision. The man turns off the bike and straightens his posture to look at you through the tinted window of his helmet. "We're here, doll," Michael announces, offering you his hand to help you down from the padded seat. You accept the man's help.

"Thank you, Michael," you say, "not just for the ride, but for all your help during the day. I can't thank you enough". Your words are sincere, but Michael can't take them seriously with the scene in front of him. Your voice coming out shaky because of the effort you were making to take off your helmet, your hair all messed up and the skin on your chin red from the force you were exerting. "It's okay, let me help you one more time," the man replied, his laughter slightly muffled by the heavy material of his helmet.

Michael carefully undoes your helmet, grasping the material with both hands and pulling it upwards, unlike what you had tried. When you're finally free, his hands quickly remove the hair in your mouth and fix the strands that were stuck to your forehead. "I'm serious," you continue, "I'm genuinely grateful for everything you've done and continue to do for me," your hands find Michael's shoulders, feeling the cold leather in your fingers.

Michael's helmet tilts a little, and he says: "And I'm answering, it's okay, I like spending time with you."

"And all the people around me have died so I can't let that happen to you too," the man adds mentally. He knows it's true, that the reason Michael is always going out of his way to look after your well-being comes from love, but it also comes from fear. You had met Michael at one of the most confusing and difficult times in the man's life, when he was literally dead and imprisoned in the establishment he had been killed in. You were and still are the only reason Michael is grateful that his soul didn't depart. That his soul let Michael live these moments with you.

You smile, oblivious to the thoughts running through Michael's mind. "I like spending time with you too," you reply shyly, still getting used to the idea of expressing your passion for the man out loud, something Michael seemed to be doing with ease. Your hands find Michael's shoulders, and you drop a kiss on the dark glass of the man's helmet. A gentle and small gesture, but given the circumstances of your situation, in which Michael wants to keep his appearance a secret and the physical contact you both allow yourselves to have can only happen with the removal of your vision. That's what you could do at the moment.

"Don't you want to close your eyes again?" Michael asks, his voice full of tenderness, once again tilting his head to beg for your touch. You laugh, "Michael, no more taking my sight away for today," your answer is firm, but your tone laced with happiness, "Go home, I'll see you tomorrow."

Michael's hands, now hidden by his leather gloves, circle your waist, squeezing lightly. "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow then," he says, and it's a strange feeling: you can't see Michael's face, but from the tone of his voice, you can recognize when he's smiling. You smile back, "See you tomorrow, Michael".

The engine of Michael's motorcycle makes a loud noise as soon as you close the door to your house, indicating the man's departure. A sigh leaves your lips, one you didn't even know you were holding in. Michael has been good company for you today, allowing you to feel safe and comfortable during your shift. But your body is recognizing the stress you went through today, your body still recognizes the place where you could have been in danger. That's why, as soon as you get home, your limbs scream exhaustion, but you ignore it and call out:

"Cassie! I'm home!" you announce, knowing that she was already home at that time. Your sister confirms your hypothesis when she comes running to greet you. She was still in her uniform, and the neighbor who looked after her while you were at work was walking slowly beside the little girl.

You thank her once again for the care she took of Cassie, just as you did every day you came home from work. "It's okay, I admit I missed the little one," she smiles and you smile back, opening the door for your neighbor to go back to her house. You don't know if your neighbor is aware of the situation you've been through, but even if she was, the old woman never mentioned or asked you about it, which was good, it would avoid future discomfort of having to recount the events that happened that night.

"Cassie, go and have a shower before dinner," you say as soon as you close the door. Cassie nods positively and does as you ask. As you hear the shower turn on, you start to prepare the table and the food you're going to serve. Returning to the establishment had its difficulties, but perhaps establishing a routine like today's would help you get back on track. Cassie didn't deserve a neglectful sister, or a dysfunctional sister, Cassie needed security and protection. You had to provide that for her, just as Michael had commented.

Cassie gets out of the bath after a few minutes, dressed in her pyjamas and rushes to the dining table, where you are waiting for her. The two of you start eating, and a light conversation starts up between you, Cassie telling you about her day at school and the gossip she had told her friends. This moment brings you a sense of normality, of routine, of stability, something you knew you both needed. You suffered, but Cassie suffered too, even though she didn't have all the information about what had happened. She deserves a childhood, and you're reminded of that right now. You didn't have the chance to be a child, but Cassie would, you would give it to her.

After washing the dishes and tidying up the kitchen, you put the little girl to bed, stroking her hair that was sprawled on the pillow. The light in her room was low, the open window bringing the light from the street and a comforting breeze into the room. Cassie was afraid of the dark, so she insisted on leaving the window open, the sound of outside the house making her feel safer and less alone in the small room. You were reading one of the books the school recommended for home reading while your fingers stroked the locks of your sister's hair.

"Why did you close the window?" Cassie asks, interrupting your reading. You were so tired that your own eyes couldn't do anything but read the big colorful words in the children's book.

"Cass, I didn't close it, try to sleep," you reply, closing your eyes, resting your sight a little.

"Then why is it so dark?" Cassie asks, her voice in an irritated tone, as if she's catching you in a lie. You sigh loudly and open your eyes, finally shifting your vision from the book.

It was dark. Well, not that dark, but for Cassie's taste, the child whom you've put to sleep all these years, you knew that this kind of darkness wasn't comfortable for her. Your head immediately turns to the window, expecting to find the curtains closed. But they were open. What was darkening the room was not the curtains, but the tall, broad figure who was preventing the light from outside from entering the room.

Your eyes widen.

Someone or something is staring at you through the window.

"I'm home, Henry," Michael announced when he arrived at Henry's residence. He knows that the man should be at home answering calls from lawyers and dealing with the crisis that had erupted once again at Fazbear Entertainment. Henry had seen and resolved some of these crises before, but every one, no matter how many times, always left the older man stressed. After all, it was dead bodies that were being mentioned and the company's management seemed to deal with it as if it were a minor causality, the marketing team trying to cover it up and the team of lawyers going to court to clear the corporation's name once again.

"How is she?" was the first question Henry asked when he saw Michael. "I think she's coping better than I did back then," the younger man replied, sighing and taking off his helmet as he made sure the door to the residence was closed. "Well, give yourself some credit, you were younger than her when everything happened," Henry reminds him, looking away from the various papers on the table to look at Michael.

"Yeah, I know," Michael sighs again, dropping his heavy jacket on the sofa and stretching his arms, limbs tired after driving the motorcycle. "Anyway, I believe she's going to be fine, I'll make sure of it everyday," he continues, "Any news from Ennard?"

"Not yet," Henry replies, "The company secretary called me today, but with the chaos in the legal team, I'm dealing with a lot of people at the same time," the older man rubs his eyes tiredly, "I need to get back to her tomorrow morning."

Michael nods positively, "I don't even want to think about what that son of a bitch is doing," the younger man growls, "Elizabeth did the right thing in getting rid of that piece of garbage."

"Mike," Henry calls out, "When we do confront Ennard, try to remember that they're just kids. They've committed crimes, yes, but they're just wronged children, seized by a violent energy."

Michael doesn't answer. He knows it, but just like any other human, Michael feels anger. He knows that everything leads back to his father, and that at the end of the day, everything is his fault. But how do you keep that thought when you're literally being cut open alive? How do you think they're just children when you have to walk around every day hiding because you're dead? He can't remember that as he looks at the same scar on his torso every night.

The younger man gives no answer and goes off to get ready for bed. Well, he wasn't going to sleep, but a routine kept him sane. Michael would clean himself, redo some surgical stitches on his skin and face, read and watch television. In the dark hours of the night, Michael would make rounds through streets that he and Henry had pre-selected. These contained streets with small abandoned properties, little traffic and almost no police surveillance. Michael was looking for Ennard.

Today was the same repetition of tasks and when Henry went to bed, Michael had already left the house to do his patrol. Michael left his motorcycle parked at the beginning of the street and started walking. He had his mask on, but no hood, as there was no movement of people in the area. Even though the goal of this patrol was to find Ennard, he liked feeling the cool breeze on his face, not being in the shadows and being able to see something other than Henry's house or the establishment where he worked.

A few minutes into his walk, however, he heard a noise. The noise came from a dark alley next to a small business. Michael knew Ennard well enough to understand the animatronic's behavior patterns, so he didn't call out to the noise, just grabbed the gun he had hidden from Henry and started walking silently towards the source of the noise.

Michael had already formulated an entire plan of action in his head in a matter of seconds, given that, on the dark nights back at the establishment, all he could think about was revenge. It wasn't difficult for Michael to let anger take control of his dead body, a feeling that had controlled his life for many years. But it was all for nothing when he heard:

"Mike?", a sweet, childish voice sounded from the dark alley.

The man froze. His hand quickly left the gun in his pocket and pressed down on his heart, which was no longer beating. An act that demonstrated the physical pain Michael felt when he heard that voice, all the feelings like regret, longing, welcome and sadness almost piercing Michael's stomach once again.

"Liz?" Michael doesn't cry, because he has no way of producing tears.

Michael starts to quicken his steps to meet his sister in the alley, but the voice stops him immediately.

"Don't come any closer," Elizabeth warns, but her tone isn't coarse or direct, the sweet voice always present, "I don't want to hurt you again."

"No, no, you won't, I know that," Michael replies desperately, not wanting to be away from the sister he misses so much, "Please Liz, Henry and I are worried about you, I can't stand not knowing how you are or where you are, please-"

"Your eyes have changed," Elizabeth notes, "You used to have the same eyes as Dad, but now they're black," she says sadly.

"Good, I don't want anything from that son of a bitch," Michael growls, crossing his arms, but soon regrets it, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to swear in front of you."

"I'm used to it," Elizabeth recalls. Michael was not a calm type of teenager, even before all the murders, always being impulsive in his words and actions. The animatronic sighs, making a metallic sound of wires whipping around. "I don't want you to look for me anymore."

"What?" Michael realizes the angry tone in her voice, but he doesn't have time to calm down before he is interrupted by his sister: "Michael, listen to me, Ennard is looking for a new skin to hide in."

"Yes, I know," the man replied, rubbing his forehead nervously. "But, Liz, what do you mean you don't want me-"

"He's still hiding in the store," Elizabeth ignores Michael's question, interrupting him once again.

"What?" Michael asks, genuinely confused. He had made sure Ennard wasn't there when he checked the establishment.

"Ennard doesn't know about Remnant yet, so he's looking for victims near the establishment, like the company employee and the daytime security guard-," Elizabeth explains Ennard's plan to Michael, but as soon as she vocalizes the last word, the sound of footsteps rapidly colliding with concrete is heard.

"Mike?" Elizabeth called out. No answer.

Michael had run off as soon as he heard that Ennard was after you. He didn't want to leave early, the long-awaited reunion with his sister being reduced to mere minutes as soon as she mentioned you. Michael promised you that he would protect you, and when he realized that you could be one of Ennard's first targets, Michael never felt more alive. Not in a positive way, but all the physical reactions of fear and despair were echoed in his body, even if no organs worked anymore.

The man ran down the empty street until he reached his motorcycle, on which he quickly started and accelerated the engine, creating a mass of air that blew away all the leaves and small animals, easily waking up all the people who were sleeping a block away.

Michael had read a lot about the physiological fight-or-flight reaction in the medical books he was consuming. As the body raises its heart rate, the pupils dilate and the blood flow to the muscles increases, so it gives the individual a flushed expression. Michael understood that this is the body's preparation to fight or flee, in order to save its own life. The man recognizes that, in all the years since his father's murders, he had experienced this set of symptoms described in the books. Michael always chose to fight, even in situations where there was no dangerous or life-threatening stimulus, but because his body had experienced countless situations of acute stress, Michael always triggered this same set of symptoms.

But Michael has never wanted to fight as much as he does now.

The engine of his motorcycle is making a loud noise as he drives down his street, but Michael doesn't care about the noise, wanting to get to your house as quickly as possible. The man can't feel anything at the moment, only the instinct to fight to protect, not his life, which had already been lost, but yours. Michael spots your house with wide eyes and speeds up even more, even if it wasn't possible. He lets go of the bike's pedals and drops the bike while it's still in motion, making a loud noise as the concrete scratches the metal of the bike. Because of the impact, Michael loses his balance and falls along with the bike, tearing the clothes he was wearing, but he quickly gets up and runs out the door.

"Y/n!" you hear as soon as your eyes meet the figure in your window. However, the moment you and your sister look away from the shadow that was staring at the two of you, the sound of the window breaking causes your sister to scream in fright.

The scream is heard by Michael, who is anxiously knocking on your door. In an act of desperation, he raises his leg and starts kicking the door in the hope that it will fall down or form a hole so that he can break in and get you both out.

Your heart races, and unlike Michael, who constantly used his physiological symptoms to fight, you run away. Your arms grab the figure of your sister, who was lying on your shoulder, hugging her to your torso and you start to run, managing to catch the dark, tall figure coming through Cassie's bedroom window on the side of your vision.

"Michael!" you shout in response, your voice breathless from the adrenaline rushing through your muscles. Your footsteps are like feathers on the ground, quickly touching and levitating off the wooden floor in desperation. On hearing your call, Michael takes a few steps back and begins to slam his body hard into the door, hearing some of the bones in his arm break with the force he was hitting them with. After repeating this movement for a few seconds, the door finally falls, exposing you carrying your sister as you run across the living room, Ennard's heavy footsteps echoing down the corridors.

"Y/n!", Michael calls out to you and your body seems to react to the sound of his voice, releasing more adrenaline to flow through your veins. Your feet gain more strength and you speed up your run to reach Michael.

Your body collides with his, your arm protecting your sister's back and head from the rough contact your figure had with Michael. The man doesn't think twice about taking your sister from your lap to hug her around his torso, then taking your hand to start practically dragging you down the street, the rhythm of the footsteps of the two of you rapid and accelerated. Michael didn't mind leaving his own motorcycle on the street, as there was no way he could fit the three of you on it. So he decided to run with the two of you through the dark, empty streets of your neighborhood, looking for any opportunity to hide and check that the both of you were okay. Michael feels Cassie's arms tighten around his shoulders and your hand tremble in his.

You still didn't have time to think about what had happened: who was that figure? Why was Michael here? If Michael knew, why didn't he call the police? Was Cassie going to be safe? Would you be safe?

All these questions are silenced by Michael's hand in yours as he pulls you through the neighborhood, his steps as desperate as yours. Your sister had accepted the stranger's lap, hiding her face in Michael's neck.

You knew one thing for sure: you trusted Michael.

#fnaf fanfic #fnaf michael afton #fnaf movie #fnaf x reader #michael afton #michael afton fanfic #michael afton x reader #michael afton x you #scooped michael #five nights at freddys

[gxdsfavgal]

Just like him

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader x Sarah Cameron

Warnings: mentions of drugs, addiction and death, angst, very short

A/N: this takes place right after Wards “death” in OBX2

-

-

Ward was dead. Our ears still ringing from watching from the yard. Sarah dropping to her knees. Rose holding Wheezie from inside the house so she doesn’t run out. Rafe standing next to me as his body was frozen.

We didn’t know what to do, but I was there for Rafe every second after. I made sure to get my emergency stash from my house. I made sure he ate. I made sure he got his anger out on me. 

We spent most of the time in his room, high on cocaine and weed. Rafe didn’t sleep, he spent hours trying to figure out how he can be the man of the house. 

A few mornings later, Rose woke up all of us. Ordering breakfast for us to eat as a family, a broken family. It’s nice that I’m considered family. I mean, I was friends with Sarah 15 years of my life, and now I’m with Rafe.

After breakfast, Rose sat us all down and brought out her computer so we can watch Wards goodbye vid. I held Rafe’s hand as he squeezed it tightly.

The video of Ward was heartbreaking. Leaving everyone in tears, mourning, and anger.

Sarah pushed her chair backwards, storming out of the house. Rose repeatedly yelled her name, Wheezie cried harder from the thought of Sarah never coming back. Rafe quickly and angrily followed behind her, I followed to make sure he doesn't hurt her again.

Sarah was on the road, walking with her bike at her side.

“Sarah!” I yelled, trying to get her attention but she just ignored.

Rafe yelled her name, but she ignored it again. I stopped him in his track, telling him that I can talk her out of it.

“Sarah, let me talk to you. Just me, no Rafe.” I jogged up behind her.

I felt like I was moving slow from my high still lingering from last night.

She stopped and waited for me to face her.

“Fuck. Look, you can’t leave your brother and sister during this time.” I told her, I tried to think of all the sincere words possible.

“He’s not my brother. He tried to fucking kill me, twice!” she began rolling her bike down the road again.

“O-Okay yeah. He tried to kill you. Sarah.” 

She stopped again, annoyed flooded her face as I blocked her path.

“Sarah, he’s a good brother.” I muttered out.

“You’re fucking oblivious.”

“He’s trying his best.” I had to take long strides to catch up with her and her bike. 

“Why won't you go back to your own family? Let us handle this.” she rolled her eyes.

“Stay here Sarah!” I let out with anger as I grabbed her forearm, holding her in place. I don’t know why I was doing this, usually I would never stand in the way of Sarah and her Pogues.

Rafe was walking towards us, taking long and fast strides.

“Let me go!” she pulled her arm away.

“What the fuck happened to you?” She tilted her head.

“Nothing happened to me Sar.” I rubbed at my temple.

“No, you wanna know what happened to you?” 

I shrugged my shoulders telling her to carry on.

“You were my best friend. You let him manipulate you.” she harshly pointed her finger towards her brother. “You’re an addict just like Rafe. Get some help.” she scoffed.

My eyelids felt heavy, I could feel the stinging in my eyes. I could feel the air stuck in my throat.

“Hey!” Rafe jumped in front of her bike, holding the bike tight in his grip. “You’re going to apologize, then you’re going back inside. You hear me?” 

“I am leaving.” she said sternly, pulling the bike handles away from Rafe.

“I’m trying to be better. O-Okay.” he followed Sarah as she walked.

“You almost killed me.” 

“Shit. Fuck. I’m trying to be the man of the house.”

She ignored him.

“Do you hear yourself Rafe?” she yelled out with wide eyes. “You’re not dad, you will never be him!”

She quickly moved and hopped on her bike, peddling as fast she could. 

Rafe moved his hand into his pockets, fumbling with the car keys.

“Let her go.” I held his wrist, stopping his movement. “She’ll comeback.”

I wiped my tears and let go of his wrist. I walked back into the house, leaving him on the street.

#gxdsfavgals masterlist #rafe cameron #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron smut #obx rafe #rafe obx #sarah cameron #sarah cameron angst #sarah cameron fluff #sarah obx #obx sarah #drew starkey #madelyn cline #outerbanks #outer banks #obx

[toonqueen]

DUCKVEMBER DAY 18: Zealous Duck (Part 1)

My original plan for this was to write something with Mighty Ducks Canard and what he’s up to in limbo but then I remembered at 15 I hated the guy so I really want to spend time writing a story about him. Lolololol.

Instead I’m writing about my Ducktales/Darkwing char Agent Gemini wheeee. Gemma for short. 

—--

“But why are they after me?” the gray feathered finch child whimpered as Agent Gemini helped her up on her motorcycle. 

“Nothing that is your fault. I can get you somewhere safe until my backup arrives,” she replied as she quickly got a helmet onto the child. She had the child secure in front of her and then turned on her bike. She looked over her shoulder seeing the van coming barreling down the road in the distance. 

“My mom and dad are going to be worried when I’m not home,” the child said softly before Agent Gemini sped them away on the motorcycle.

“Don’t worry. I’ll have you back home soon,” the agent tried to comfort the child, “what is your name? You can call me Gemma.”

“Loxi,” the bullfinch answered before letting out a screech when Gemma had to make a sudden sharp turn.

“It’s okay. Sorry about that. I’m trying to lose these guys before we go somewhere safe,” the agent stated. She kept trying to talk to the child to distract her, “Loxi is a pretty name.”

Loxi ignored Gemma’s small talk, “Are they after me because I can sometimes move things? Without touching them?”

“Ah, that could be but it is still not your fault. They are wrong to come after you for that. I’m gonna make another sharp turn,” Gemma warned the child before taking a hard right, “They shouldn’t be bothering you at all.”

“There was a sub nurse at school today. She took my temp-ra-chure with one of those forehead things to do it. But the screen didn’t show numbers like they do,” the child explained, a little bit shaky. Gemma turned her motorcycle into a construction site in hopes of losing the people tailing them. 

“Oh, do you think that is one of the people following us now?” the agent questioned, “What did they look like?”

“Uh… brown hair, duck like you but tall?” Loxi didn’t know what answer to give to that. . She was a child and didn’t know how to give a description to identify a threat. 

“Okay, that does narrow it down a little,” Gemma said in a tone not to discourage the child’s minimum description, “was she wearing any unusual jewelry? Anything stand out?”

“No.. noo. But when she checked my temp it didn’t give a number. It gave some rhyme about someone named Tituba?” Loxi explained. Gemma made a little ‘ugh’ sound as she realized who may be after the kid.

“That helps a lot. I know who’s after us now. You’ll be fine,” the agent replied. There was a certain sect of paladin she knew about that would go after young distant descendants of magical persons and creatures. It was a logical conclusion that she was dealing with them, “I’m taking another sharp turn.”

The child braced herself for another rough turn. When Loxi looked up she saw that the agent was headed directly into a black iron fence. She didn’t have a chance to scream before the two of them and the motorbike just drove through the bars like it wasn’t even physically there. 

“Sorry, I should have warned you about that too. We are almost somewhere safe. I think we lost them, “ Gemma gave an update to the child. She slowed down her bike and was glancing over at the building nearby. 

Loxi peaked out again to see they were in a cemetery. Gemini was looking over nearby mausoleums.

“This is the safe place?” the child questioned as she saw where they were.

“Yes, I’m looking for a certain symbol on one of these buildings. Ah, there!” Gemma pointed to a corner of one of the mausoleum. There was a carving in the lower corner of the stone was carved a hand horizontally holding a large floating peacock feather, “ Can you see that?”

Loxi tilted her head Gemma drove closer to the building, “Yes! I can. Can other people not see it?”

“Yes, it's an old symbol to show a place that is safe for people like us,” Gemma explained to the child, “Anywhere you see it has a safe place inside. Can you open the door for me please.”

The duck brought her bike to a stop. She helped the child off the motorcycle. Loxi looked at the double wooden doors on the mausoleum with uncertainty at first. Though they were heavy, the child opened it with ease. Gemma waved for her to go inside before she pushed her motorcycle in. 

Once inside, the agent closed the door behind her. She felt around the left side of the wall. A light above came on that looked like an old filament light bulb. 

“Are there really dead bodies here?” Loxi asked  in a tone that was curious instead of being  grossed out. 

Gemma looked over the lines of brass plaques on the walls that had names for the bodies shelved there, “Yes. We are safe here though. They won’t be able to find you here.”

Despite what the agent had said, both of them heard a cracking sound outside. It was a short distance away. Gemma put  her pointer finger to her bill to let Loxi know to be quiet. The people pursuing them were driving their van through the cemetery. 

Agent Gemini was sure she had lost them earlier. She suspected since this group was a form of witch hunters that they had knowledge that a cemetery would be a good safe area for a good magic user. This was the closest cemetery to the chase so maybe they decided to just wander in. 

Gemma’s motorcycle was enchanted to go through walls and not leave tracks so they couldn’t have tracked her that way either. Her heart sank when she realized she made a big mistake. She had to be riding on the bike for the enchantment to work. The agent had pushed her bike into the mausoleum for the last few steps. There could be a clear tire track coming into this building. She hoped the protection enchantment on the mausoleum itself would hide that. 

As the van drove by, a sudden blinding blue light lit up on top of it. It was like a UV light. It rotated on top of the vehicle like a lighthouse beacon. The van stopped and two people got out, still leaving a third person in the driver's seat. 

  The agent motioned to Loxi to go to the back corner of the mausoleum. Though the building had no windows, Gemma had heard the van stop and footsteps approach. One of the hunters started kicking at the door. When the wood would normally bend at the force instead a yellow glimmer showed up for a moment. Protection magic reinforced it. 

“Stay  here,” Gemma whispered as softly as she could to the child. She then got onto her motorcycle. The agent turned on the bike and then went through the back wall of the mausoleum. It went through the wall no damage like the enchantment allowed. 

The agent then turned and drove to the front of the building, “HEY! If you want the girl you have to get me first!” 

She revved her motorcycle loudly. At full speed without a ramp she was able to jump the bike across the front of the van. It dented the hood and caused the bottom of the windshield to fracture. 

Like Gemma had wanted, both hunters got back into the van before the vehicle pursued her. She took a sharp turn at a large statue. With that maneuver she was hoping they’re van would hit the corner of the statue and perhaps cause a good amount of damage to it. 

They did knick the corner of the pedestal the statue was on. The statue wobbled but did not fall onto the van. Gemma kept going straight, eyeing for trees that were close together for her to drive through. Hopefully that would make them wreck their car. 

What she didn’t expect was another vehicle coming out of nowhere and stopping in front of her. She didn’t stop though. She drove right through it. Spying the inside of the van a moment, she saw maybe TV screens and wires. She was about to be clear of the vehicle but there was a sudden pull and drag. It was as if something had grabbed the back tire of the motorcycle and stopped it from running.

Her bike was now stuck with the back wheel in the van. Luckily, all of her was on the outside. She had to leap from her ride and start to run. For being a bean build duck she could run fast. The question now was could she run fast enough to outrun a truck. A truck that now had a motorcycle stuck in the side.

The agent’s main goal was to get them as far away from the kid they targeted.  They might know the child was inside the mausoleum but there would be no way to get in. Loxi was safe. 

Gemma made a turn towards a large statue to go behind. Her intent wasn’t to hide since the van would see her go there. The next move to make was to force the people in the van to get out. 

As the van drove by the statue it then u-turned to come back at the agent. Like a game of cat and mouse, Gemma made sure to now get on the opposite side of the statue. If the van was going to ram it that would be their stupid choice. 

She knew she could take down three paladins easily. When the van sped past the statue  a fourth person she had not seen yet jumped out the open side. This guy was much bigger than the other three, and had strange metal gloves on. The agent wondered if those hands were what grabbed her rear motorcycle tire. Some sort of item that canceled out that enchantment. 

One of the regular sized paladin also jumped out of the van before it came to a stop. Gemma glanced at the two hunters that were squaring her up. They didn’t lunge in for attack. Instead they waited  to see what this rogue agent would do.

“Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot,” the agent was now going to try a diplomatic approach, “I’m the Cryptid Chargehand for this district. St. Canard is my protectorate. Which you should know means I mediate the actions of hunters and the arcane in this area. Your actions right now are unacceptable and against the guidelines. You need to stand down now.”

“We do not recognize your status. Even if we did, you are no Chargehand. We observed you interacting with SHUSH earlier,” the larger hunter replied.

“Can’t a woman have two jobs?” Gemma gave an exasperated sigh, “If you do not back off right now I will be more of a problem than the child ever would be.”

#duckvember 2023 #duckvember #agent gemini #SHUSH #darkwing duck #ducktales

[drabbles-mc]

Degrees of Separation (3)

Taza Romero x M!Reader

Summary: You transferred out of Yuma and into Santo Padre in a last-ditch attempt to outrun old ghosts and old problems. The small charter, located in an even smaller border-town, seemed like the perfect place to try and shake off everything that had happened to you so that you could start over. You were ready to live with your old secrets. But the deeper you get into the charter, the more you realize you may have simply traded in your old secrets for new ones, and this time you wouldn't be going down for them alone.

Chapter Index

Warnings: 18+, language, smoking

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I realize it had been approximately 10000 years since I wrote for Mayans/SOA but I swear I'm still around and kicking. Bringing this story back from the dead after basically a year of not updating it 😂 But it's a longer chapter so I'm gonna pretend that that makes it okay lmao. I've missed writing these two, though. Lord knows I love me a good slow burn. 😌

Mayans Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @paintballkid711 @queenbeered @kelpies-shed @mijagif @amorestevens @garbinge @justreblogginfics @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @littlekittymeow @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @nessamc @withmyteeth @crowfootwrites @winchestershiresauce @frattsparty @fanfic-n-tabulous @justazzi @darqchilddaydreamz @danzer8705 @camelia35 @thanossexual @kishie8 @callmejaye (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

It was a smooth ride back to the clubhouse the next day. There were minimal stops along the way—everyone just wanted to be back home. Between how busy the last couple of days were, and the sun constantly beating down on your back on the return trip, you were exhausted by the time you rolled into the clubhouse lot.

Everyone was hopping off their bikes, the guys in the van piling out, all of you stretching as you tossed your helmets onto your bikes. You looked around, trying to get a feel for what they were all planning on doing. You just wanted to go home and sleep, never mind the fact that it was still probably far too early to go to bed. But if everyone was going to hang around for a bit, you weren’t just going to take off.

You watched as Angel, Gilly, and Coco headed directly for the clubhouse. You were mentally gearing yourself up to follow suit when you heard Taza’s voice coming from behind you. Sometimes it felt like the man could see your plans before you even said or did anything about them.

“The rest of us are going home,” he told you as he stepped so that he was standing next to you.

You didn’t try to dial back your relief. “Yea?”

He laughed. “Yea.” He nodded towards the clubhouse. “They always pull late ones when we get back if everyone is in one piece. You can stay if you want, but,” he shook his head, “the rest of us just want to shower and sleep.”

“Thank god.” You laughed.

You reached into your kutte, pulling out your pack of cigarettes. Placing one between your lips, you grabbed your lighter as well. It took a couple tries, but you finally got it lit, taking a deep inhale and tilting your head back so that when you sighed, the smoke flowed straight up. You felt Taza watching you, and despite the fact that he declined the night before, you still gave him another wordless offer. He chuckled, caving and taking you up on it this time around. He pulled one out of the pack and allowed you to light it for him, watching as you carefully shielded the flame of your lighter from the light breeze threatening to blow it out.

“Do things usually go that smoothly?” you ventured to ask, assuming that if anyone was going to be honest with you, it was Taza.

He nodded, pulling a drag off his cigarette. “Yeah,” smoke flowed out between his lips with each word he spoke, “usually. Not always,” he chuckled knowingly, “but usually.”

You laughed, shrugging. “I could get used to that.”

He arched one eyebrow, clearly curious. “Things not go that smoothly in Yuma?”

You held the smoke in for a beat longer than you usually would before releasing it with a deep sigh. “Not for me.”

Taza studied your expression as you said that, the way that you weren’t looking directly at him as you spoke. Despite that, he could still see the tension in the way that you stood, the way you forced the deep breath out. He wondered if this was going to be the moment when you finally opened up about whatever had gone down in Yuma that made you transfer out. There were usually stories of some kind to accompany why men would shuffle between charters. Or, at the very worst, there were rumors, which while they weren’t ideal it would still give people some sort of an idea as to why the changes were happening. But it had been radio silent with you. Yuma didn’t say much, and you said even less. Truthfully, Taza wasn’t interested in Canche’s version of anything, but it would’ve been better than nothing.

But you still kept it in, whatever thoughts were racing around your mind at the mention of your last charter. Maybe one day down the line you would talk about it, or maybe it was just going to be another thing that got buried in the pile of happenings that you never forgot, but never discussed. If Santo Padre was going to be anything resembling a fresh start, you figured that leaving the past where it belonged was the best course of action. Giving things a voice didn’t always work out for you in the past.

Somehow, even with the overwhelming urge to pry, Taza didn’t say anything more to you about it. He was no stranger to having skeletons that he tried to hide from view. You both stood there, passively tapping the ash from the ends of your cigarettes smoke swirled up around you.

“Those runs are every month?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He nodded, exhaling a stream of smoke. “Least once a month, yeah.” He looked at you, a curious expression on his face. “You want to be put on the rotation?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Hell yeah.” You dropped the last of your cigarette, snubbing it out beneath the toe of your boot. “Felt good to be back on the road again.”

“I’ll let Bishop know,” Taza said, nodding as he got as much as he could out of the cigarette pinned between his fingers.

“Appreciate it.” You smiled as you gave Taza a light clap on the shoulder. “I’m heading out. I’ll see you in a couple days.”

“Sounds good.” He watched as you walked back over to your bike, finally letting the end of his cigarette drop and hit the ground when you clipped your helmet on to drive off.

The next few days were quiet. There were no calls for Templo, and you didn’t have any yard shifts which you were thanking your lucky stars for. You took advantage of the downtime to try and rest, and to put some minor attempts into making your new place feel a little more like home. You’d never been good at the decorating thing, always counting on whoever you were living with to have a stronger knack for it than you. The plants that were struggling in your window sill, and the few picture frames tacked on the wall in your tiny living room were about the extent of your décor. You’d been saying that at some point you were going to have to remedy that, and now some point was here.

Looking around, you weren’t really sure if it made the apartment feel that much more like home. But it at least no longer looked like what would pass for a low-budget motel room. Now, you figured, you were at least in low-budget hotel territory. It was a step in the right direction. For once, you missed having a roommate.

Flopping down onto the couch, you came to the immediate conclusion that the throw pillows were a good purchase. It blew your mind how much a fucking pillow cost, but for all the times you ended up falling asleep on the couch instead of in your bed, you supposed it was a decent investment, and apparently it would brighten up the space, or whatever all those people on the HGTV channel would say.

You were halfway to falling asleep when your phone started buzzing in your pocket. You snapped awake, digging it out and bringing it to your ear without checking to see who was calling. “Yeah?”

“Yo. They called Templo.” EZ was clearly trying not to laugh at the fact that you sounded as tired as you felt. “Bish wants everyone here ASAP.”

You sat up, running your free hand down your face like that would wake you up. “Alright. I’ll be there.”

Luckily you were still in the clothes you’d gone out in before, so getting ready really just meant slipping into your kutte and putting your boots back on. You grabbed your helmet and took off out the door, double-checking to make sure that you’d really locked it.

You weren’t the last to show up to the clubhouse, but even so, there were still a good number of bikes already there when you showed up. You put yours in line with everyone else’s, leaving your gloves and helmet on the seat before making your way over to the clubhouse steps. Before you even opened the door, you could hear some of the chatter coming from inside. No one sounded angry, which was a good sign, but you still had no idea why Bishop had called a meeting.

You made your way over to the bar, never quite sure where else you should go. That was another thing you still had on your list of stuff to figure out. Everyone else seemed to have some sort of a routine, a group that they gravitated towards. You hadn’t found yours yet. Each time you thought about it, you thought about your quick exchange with Angel on the run. For all the ways that the guys like to bust his chops, you couldn’t help but to think that maybe this time he had a point.

Bishop’s voice ringing through the clubhouse cut down any chance for you to think too much more about it. You downed the last of your beer before getting up to head towards the sliding glass door. EZ was tossing your bottle and a few others into the recycling bin behind the bar when Bishop called out for him too.

“You too, prospect.” He nodded towards the room. “Might need your help with something.”

Your expression showed your mixed feelings of impressed and confused. Prospects in Templo didn’t happen often. Again, maybe it was different in Santo Padre, but you knew for a fact that in Yuma the circumstances had to be dire for that to happen. You wondered if there was more going on that you should all be worried about. The way EZ chuckled and shook his head let you know that he saw the confused look on your face. He fell into stride next to you once he came out from behind the bar.

“Least I know I’m not the only one out of the loop on this,” he joked before tossing his phone into the basket.

“What’s this?”

He laughed. “Exactly.”

You listened as Bishop, Taza, and Hank all explained what had been going down in the prisons. They were your drugs. Sure, technically they were Galindo’s, but Mayans were the ones distributing. Your charters were the ones distributing drugs that were making people drop like flies. It was more than just a one-off—it clearly wasn’t user error at this point.

Sitting back silently, you also listened to the plan that they were formulating to get to the bottom of all of it. It sounded a little batshit, to be quite honest. It was all hinging on EZ’s brain. Apparently he had an eidetic memory. You had no reason to believe that that wasn’t true, but you also found it a bit bold to be using it to essentially write off an entire charter as snakes. No one else seemed to share the same reservations, though.

“This doesn’t leave this room,” Bishop said as he looked around at all of you. “Got it?”

Everyone gave their version of yes before Bishop nodded, bringing the gavel down and effectively dismissing everyone. You stood up, pushing your chair back, and were about to start heading out of the room when Bishop spoke up again, this time only saying your name. It sent a tiny jolt of fear down your spine but you fought not to let it show as you turned around to face him and the other two men sitting at the head of the table, the only others who hadn’t gotten up from their chairs.

“Yeah, Pres?” you tried to sound casual enough, hoping it hid your nerves.

He nodded towards the chair that was on the opposite side of Hank, one that brought you to their end of the table. “Sit.”

There was nothing for you to say, so you just waited for the rest of the room to clear out. You temporarily snagged someone else’s seat for the sake of not sitting at nearly the opposite end of the table from Bishop while he spoke to you. You rested your forearms on top of the table, crossing them so that your hands rested by opposite elbows. There was no way for you to know for sure what your expression looked like, but you hoped it was something adjacent to relaxed, maybe even a little confident if you could muster it.

“Settling in alright?” Bishop asked when the room stilled again.

You chuckled out of nerves. “I think so, yeah.” You paused for a beat, looking at his expression, then those of Taza and Hank. It always seemed like everyone had a better game-face than you. “This like, what, a ninety-day eval or something?” you joked lightly.

Taza let out a quiet laugh at that, and it even got a bit of a smile out of Bishop before he replied, “Yeah, pretty much.”

You gave a slow nod, trying to take the temperature of the room. It didn’t feel tense enough for you to think that things were about to go poorly. “Alright. Why don’t you guys tell me how I’m settling in, then.”

Taza smiled, maybe a little more outwardly amused than he should’ve been. “We think you’re settling in alright too.”

“We just need to know if you’re planning on staying,” Hank finally spoke up, “now that you’ve seen what we do here.”

You had no hesitation as you nodded. “I wanna stay. I’m—I’m gonna stay.”

Bishop was studying your face, looking for any crack in any possible façade that you could be putting up. “You’re sure on that?” He saw the way you were about to shoot something back, but the slight lift of his hand from the table stopped you. “I need to make sure my club is fuckin’ steady. You left Yuma. I didn’t ask why—I don’t really give a fuck why, either. I just need to know if you’re gonna wanna leave here too.”

You managed to keep your composure, not wanting to get heated enough to the point where you’d have to get into it all. Instead, you took a deep breath, set your shoulders back, and shook your head. “I’m not planning on leaving.”

There was a long drag of silence. Long enough that if anyone in that room was holding a lie together by a thread it would’ve snapped. You must’ve seemed steady and sure enough for Bishop’s liking, for all of theirs, because everyone in the room relaxed. Except Taza—the one person in the room who hadn’t seemed tense in the first place.

“Good,” Bishop finally said. He snubbed his cigarette out before dropping the act and letting himself smile. “Now we won’t have to do this shit again.” He saw the relief on your face and he just nodded towards the door. “Go on, get outta here.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, immediately getting up and letting yourself out. The usual thrumming of the clubhouse hardly even registered as you quickly made your way through and out the door. You stopped on the deck, just needing fresh air as you braced yourself against the railing.

The creaking of the door opening behind you caused you to turn around. You chuckled and shook your head when you saw it was Taza. “You know that was coming?” you asked.

He chuckled, nodding. “Of course I did.”

“Didn’t think to warn me?”

He shrugged as he leaned on the railing next to you. “Didn’t think I needed to.”

You shook your head, not looking at him but not really looking away from him either. “Bit of a risk, isn’t it?” You turned to look at him only to find him already facing you. “Asking me if I’m gonna stay after going over all that shit with the other charters?”

Taza shook his head. “No risk.”

“No?”

He shrugged. “I had the feeling you weren’t gonna flinch.”

“If I did?”

“We had plans in place for that too.”

“Jesus Christ,” you said with a shake of your head.

He chuckled, clapping you on the back. “Good thing you didn’t flinch, huh?”

“Yeah.” You had to laugh a little. You knew what you were dealing with—at the end of the day it was still an MC. “Real good thing.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #taza romero #che romero #taza romero x reader #taza romero x you #degrees of separation #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans au #x reader #x reader fic

[shibainu2006]

Sunsets in Georgia

Author's note: I had a lot of fun with this!

@killersweetie

@love-thanatopsis

@captain-liminal

The school day was nearing its end.

Reign sat in history class, a bored expression adorning her features.

As Trein handed out study guides and homework, she sat, deep in thought.

Everything seemed to remind her of home...

Her heart ached at the thought of her family.

Even sitting in the classroom made her remember home.

A faint voice called to her, "Prefect?"

Ace... He and Deuce looked worried.

Grim, not so much, "You spacin' out again, henchman?" He crossed his arms, swaying his tail gently as he stood on the desk staring right at her.

Reign quickly snapped out of her homesick daze, coming back to reality, "Sorry. Didn't mean to lose focus like that."

Deuce tilted his head at her, wondering if something was wrong, "You okay?" He asked, "You've been in your own little world the entire class. Usually you at least snap out of it when class is almost over."

"Ah, yes.. I guess I'm just a bit tired." She rubbed the back of her neck.

Perhaps she was tired. Exhausted even.

Reign had been sleeping just fine, though... I couldn't be that.

Something else?

This feeling was familiar, but she couldn't place her finger on it.

"If you're sure.." Deuce wouldn't worry about it if she didn't want him to.

Neither would Ace, "C'mon! We said we'd hang out after school!" The ginger spoke with excitement.

Grim nodded, "I'm gonna get a bunch of tuna while we're out!"

Reign shook her head, fiddling with the sleeve of her hoodie.

She didn't really feel like going...

"You guys go on without me. I'm far too exhausted to do anything else."

"Are ya sure?" Ace asked.

Was she alright?

"Yeah. Go ahead." Reign encouraged them.

They merely nodded, leaving the classroom without her to go and have fun.

The prefect packed her things neatly into her bag, starting to space out once more.

She sank further into her mind, thinking of how she would always be the last to leave class back in her world.

Slow, and easy going as the bell rang and teens rushed to get home.

The hallways bustled with life, and students were rowdy.

They would yell swear words and often make it harder to get to the bus by blocking the way, but Reign always got through.

By the time she tuned back into her surroundings, she found herself standing below the tree in front of Ramshackle.

The evening was quite beautiful.

Nostalgic, almost.

Reign took a good look at the sky above her, emotions washing over her mind like ocean waves.

The sky was painted in warm colors, almost like a blanket.

Clouds danced in the sky, fading into the oranges and yellows that blended together like watercolors.

The sun did not blaze with a blinding light the way it did midday.

It seemingly sank into the ground below, just as tired as she was.

Reign felt weight heavy on her chest.

The sight of it made her want to cry.

She remembered when she was small, living with her grandmother.

Summer break was nearly over, and her dear friends, who lived just down the street, had come to play.

They drew with chalk on the concrete driveway, leading up to the garage of a large house built with bricks.

Dolls were scattered around them, and two bikes were parked right at the mail box.

The cheery voices of her peers rang in her head, along with her own.

The face of a girl and her brother smiling right at her flashed in her mind.

Her name was called by an older woman.

She looked a bit like her, but her hair was gray, and she was a bit taller.

"It's time to eat, Reign!" She told her.

It was her grandmother.

A much smaller girl stood next to her.

She looked a lot like Reign, with a much rounder face.

Her little sister.

Reign stood up, waving goodbye to her friends, who had already begun to ride home.

Her grandmother picked up the chalk and dolls, taking them back inside, whilst Reign and her sister followed suit.

This... This memory...

She wanted to relive it once more...

Her chest tightened, and her eyelids suddenly felt heavy.

Her eyes stung, and she felt her nose become runny.

The thought of her own house, which she worked hard to get lingered as well.

Her home was made from wood, dark and cozy.

The sun setting right behind the spacious backyard, as Reign sat in a chair as her art desk on the porch, sketching what she saw.

The porch had all kinds of plants growing in pots, well taken care of and adding to its aesthetic.

The yard's grass was bathed in the sunlight, swaying gently in the wind.

Her heart squeezed itself in her chest.

She felt... almost melancholy remembering these things.

Reign felt something wet running down her cheeks, suddenly.

She was crying...

She missed home...

The prefect snapped out of her thoughts, once again back in reality.

Her vision was obscured by the tears in her eyes.

Oh, how she longed for that sunset...

That southern sunset that was rivaled by no other...

The sunset that only Georgia could offer.

She wanted so badly to be enveloped by the breeze...

To hear crickets chirping and see birds migrating in the distance.

That warm air... She craved it.

Reign sniffed, taking her glasses off and whiping her tears with her sleeve.

She wanted to go home...

The more she thought about it, the heavier the pressure on her chest became.

Home...

Ever since she came to Twisted Wonderland, she hadn't felt at home.

It had been anything but welcoming.

All the overblotting..

She had nearly forgotten what peace was.

Most all the activities included magic, which she didn't have.

All Reign ever did was sit on the sidelines and watch.

Unmoving...

Unbothered..

Untouched.

She only played mother to those around her.

How truly unfortunate she had become, to forget about home...

To only just now remember what she left...

Eventually, all her emotions numbed themselves, and her expression was that of emptiness.

She longed for that warmth.

That sunset.

She wanted to see it.

It would never happen, though.

Crowley didn't know how to send her home, and she certainly didn't hold it against him.

Reign walked into Ramshackle, closing the door behind her and locking it.

What an annoying day...

The end~

#disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst mc #twisted wonderland mc #ramshackle dorm #ramshackle prefect #ramshackle #grim twst #twst grim #ace trappola #deuce spade #heartslabyul #twst drabble

[georgiapeach30513]

Keys in Your Ignition, Part 16

Summary:  You talk to Bucky, and figure out where you belong

Pairings:  Bucky Barnes X Reader, Curtis X Reader, Hayden X Reader

Rating: 😭😭

Warnings:  language, talks about the MC, angry Curtis, unwanted kissing, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  2.2K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Curtis lingers at the doorway of your room in Steve and Tulip’s apartment, while you finish tying your shoes.

“I’ve got to do this. And there’s no perfect time, so why not now?”

He nods his head, looking around your room, there were very few touches of yourself here, the room looking generic and barely lived in, “How often do you stay in here?” you shrug, standing up, you grab a very specific hoodie, smelling it before pulling it over your head. “You refusing to answer because you don’t know, or are you refusing to answer because you know you just don’t want to admit you’re always upstairs?”

“Um…we should go before it gets too late.”

“Doll, how often are you in my brother’s apartment?” he gets another shrug, but this time a giggle. “What?”

“He has a spare room.”

“And where do you sleep?”

“Stop asking me stupid questions, and lets go.”

“Wait,” standing solid in the doorway, he refuses to let you pass him, “Don’t hurt him. I know that I’m always worried about you, but don’t hurt him. My brother is a good kid, and I can’t have you going between him and Bucky.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. I’m…I can’t move forward with Hayden until I know, you know?” he tilts his head to the side, not understanding what it is you’re saying. “If I want to fully move forward with Hayden, I have to fully close the door with JB. Him and I both deserve that. Hayden deserves that, too. He deserves the world, and I can’t give him that right now.”

“Fine. If you break my brother’s heart, I’m just going to…”

“I’m not fucking you.”

Curtis stares at you unblinking, before dragging your body to the door, “You had to say that. I can tell by the way he looks at you, that he’s thought about it,” playfully you smack at his arm with a laugh. “Oh, come on, you know Hayden has thought about it, and so have you. It’s healthy to wonder what sex would feel like with someone you feel attracted to. So don’t feel bad that you’ve thought about my brother naked.”

“Ugh! Shut up,” for once, you’re actually excited that it’s the truck you’re driving, instead of the bike, it was a cold December day. “This is not appropriate talk about your brother, Curtis!”

“Just tell me you’re hopelessly…”

“Shh! It’s bad enough you caught us making out, I’m not telling you more,” you walk past him, pointing at the front door, and waiting for him to join.

“That was making out? Oh, sheesh, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

“It was our first date!”

“Hey,” he stops you from fully going out into the hallway, pulling you back into him, “I’ve never seen you smile so big than when you’re around him,” you try to shush him again, but he walks past you in the hallway, “I know, he adds to your happiness, he doesn’t take away. Let’s get this over with. I’ll kill everyone in that club if this goes bad. Doll, you know what you’re walking into. This isn’t what you’ve been living with? You’re going back into the belly of the beast.”

“I know. Just let me breathe, okay?” he nods his head, opening the truck door for you to get in. Starting a slow count of your inhales and exhales. You could do this.  You had to do this.

Curtis looks at you as he puts the car into park. Your eyes roaming over the bikes, and noticing that not only is Bucky’s here, but so is Ari’s.

“You don’t have to do this,” Curtis says softly, but you’re already opening the door. Waiting on him to join you before you walk into the club. Walking into the haze of smoke, the smell of beer and cheap whores, and right at the front is Ari.

He pushes aside his woman for the evening to walk up to you, his arms held out wide for a hug, and he looks you up and down with a smile. Extending a hand out to Curtis, “He let you off his leash?”

“Curtis isn’t my keeper. I chose to come here, just like I can choose to leave.”

“Easy, Doll. I’m not here for an argument. You look good. You look happy,” he steps back from you, never offering another touch, and you smile at him with a bashful nod. “Why would you come back to a dump like this then? Didn’t you want to get out? Your prince got you away from here, and now you’re crawling back.”

“Where’s JB?” Ari clears his throat looking to the rooms. “Curtis isn’t my prince. He is my friend.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. Seriously. You look good, kid. Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. Stay away from here. And away from those rooms. I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”

Your face falls when you look back to the rooms. Taking one step in that direction before stopping, “He’s…he’s not been the same.”

“I don’t control his happiness.”

“I know that, but,” he gives a tug to your arm when you move towards the rooms to see him, and you stop, “Doll, just go back wherever you’ve been. Leave this place, and never come back.”

You pull his hand off of you, and jog off to Bucky’s room, shocked to see him sitting on the floor, taking a long drag from a blunt, “JB?”

“Doll?” he tries to get up, but stumbles before he gets to you. Righting himself, before engulfing you in a hug, “I knew you’d come back to me, baby. I knew you’d work things out, and come back. I,” hearing his bathroom door open, he winces.

“Bucky, I don’t have any clean clothes to wear.”

“Just get something of mine, dammit,” the blonde girl looks confused looking at you, but chooses not to comment. Grabbing up a shirt of his and scurrying out of his bedroom. “That’s not what it looked like.”

“Looked like Courtney. The girl who was stealing from the bar. Glad to see she had consequences,” you look around his room, and it’s a disgusting mess. Your breathing starts to pick up, and you look towards the floor. “I was taking  punishment for something she did, and she ends up in your bed. And it’s not even the fact that it’s your bed, you’re free to do what you want. It’s the fact that it’s her!”

“Like you weren’t in Curtis’,” you take a step back from him, unsure if this was even worth it. “Doll, don’t worry about them. This is about me and you.”

“No, this is about them. All of them. And no, I wasn’t with Curtis like that. God, y’all are all the same. It’s always about who I’m laying under. I haven’t been with anyone. Not like that. I…I was dealing with my shit, and…and y-y-you’re just doing shit. You thought that…that I was going to come back and run right into your arms? I-I-I can’t be here,” your body trembles with anger and just hurt.  Turning to leave, but he pulls at your arm, and you sling him away.

“What are you talking about? Doll calm down,” he tries to touch your arms again, but this time you push him back. “Doll, stop.”

“I’m not staying here!”

“You mean with me? You’re not staying here with me?”

“And you won’t leave with me. We’re two different people,” he shakes his head no at you, pulling you closer. “I’m not staying.”

“No, you came back to me. Doll, please, don’t do this. That stupid slut is no one.”

“There’s always going to be some stupid slut. I can’t stay here, and I won’t. Get off of me,” he pulls you closer, pressing his lips against yours, and it feels cold. An almost desperation on his part, but you hate it. There was no warmth, and you try pushing him off of you. “Bucky, stop! Stop!”

“Don’t leave me,” he gasps for air, moving his lips to your neck. “You’re always going to come back.”

“Bucky! Please, stop. I’m not in love with you anymore. Stop!” his kisses press harder, and you know with him and this place, you were never going to get a choice. It was always going to be someone making up your mind for you. “Stop!”

Curtis slings the door open, and pulls Bucky’s arms off of you, and pushes you behind him. His large hand runs down your face, wiping away your tears, and asking if you’re okay.

“I knew it. You took her away from here, so you could get your hands all over her! This is why you’ve got me so fucked up. One bed to the next. One bike to the other.”

“She doesn’t owe you a fucking explanation. But we’re not together, and if we were, it would serve you right. You don’t get to tell her what she’s going to do.”

“She wouldn’t listen anyway. Why did you come back? To rub it in my face that you’ve moved on again? I fucking screwed you up in the head? You were the one that screwed me up! You don’t get to come around here making me promises, and…”

“I never made you a promise. I came to apologize. You’re the one that mistook this visit. I wanted to clear the air, Bucky. I wanted you to step up for me then. I needed you to step up for me, and you just fucking used me. Did I ever mean anything to you? I’m always going to be your excuse, huh? It’s always someone else’s fucking fault!” he flinches towards you, but Curtis pushes him to the ground.

“Sober up. Doll, are you ready?”

“Bucky, I’m sorry. I can’t stay here. I won’t be an old lady. And you won’t leave. There is no us. I’m not doing this now, or ever. I got better for me. You wallowed in self pity. I won’t watch you drag yourself down further. Do better. Goodbye, Bucky.”

When the door closes, he throws a beer bottle at the door, letting out a scream, and Curtis holds tighter to you, “Curtis, I’m cold,” Curtis drags you into the truck, and doesn’t stop until he gets to the apartment building and watches you run to Hayden’s arms. You needed your warmth. Your comfort.

Hayden opens the door, looking confused, but pulls you in tight, looking at Curtis questioningly. “Haydes, I’m cold.”

“Let’s get some tea,” Curtis follows the two of you in, but you walk directly to his bedroom, pulling him in with you. “Doll face, what’s wrong?”

“I just,” you know sex is not the answer, and Hayden means more to you, than a way to forget. “I just want you to hold me until I fall asleep.”

Hayden stays with you, until you’re curled up into a ball fast asleep. Staying a moment, before walking back out to the living room, “You’re still here?” his feet shuffle around. Looking back at his bedroom door, he turns back to Curtis. “Who hurt her?”

“She’ll have to tell you.”

“It looks like — like she had a breakup. Was she…Curtis was there someone else?” Curtis shakes his head no, and taps on the couch beside him. “No, you tell me that nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened. She went back to the MC, and she officially left. Told everyone she wasn’t coming back,” Hayden sinks onto the couch, still not believing Curtis. “It’s more complicated than that. But unless your name was Everett, she didn’t talk to them for nearly eight months. There wasn’t another man. Just a past. And she shut the door to the MC for good,” Curtis stares blankly at the tv that neither of them want to turn, and he thinks about his role in the club. There was a reason he never had a steady woman. He wasn’t like them. He would not disrespect women the way that those men did. Even the ones that claim to be in love.

He wondered how many times you had told Bucky to quit. How hard you had tried to push him away, and just what was running in your head during it. He might never know how you were terrified that the moment with Bucky would push Hayden away. That the only thought running in your mind was how your vision of a future changed, and Bucky wasn’t part of it. Or just how much it hurt to fully lose your first love, and a life you thought you you would be stuck in, be gone in an instant. You wouldn’t be back, and Bucky didn’t want to join you. He wanted you to join him.

“Curtis, she scares me,” Hayden whispers looking back at the door.

“Why?”

“I’m falling fast. And I don’t want to lose her or what we’ve had. And I know I walked into a mess, but I don’t care. She is worth it. If she’ll have me.”

“Kid, I think you’re going to be okay. Just take things slow. She needs time to learn you, and know your boundaries as a couple. You speed things up, and she’s likely to pull away. Keep it sweet. Keep being her comfort. She stopped saying she was cold when she was around you. I don’t think she realized that it wasn’t a literal cold feeling, she needed her warmth. She needed you. Hey, where are you going?”

Curtis looks at Hayden when he goes to stand up, “Going to bring her some warmth. You can sleep in the guest room. She won’t be going anywhere.”

“Hayden, easy on her.”

“I know.”

Next

Masterlist

Taglist:  @tis-thedamn-season​ @marveloustaylortot​ @pono-pura-vida​ @sstan-hoe​ @peaches1958​ @kaybaby2494 @flannellover67​ @infatuatedjanes​ @redbloodedgurl​ @thedarknessilove​ @whimsyplaty92​ @tryingtosurvivestuff​ @superforgottensoul​  

#keys in your igntion #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes breakup #ex!bucky barnes #biker au #harvard hottie #hayden everett x reader #hayden everett #hayden everett x y/n #hayden everett x you

[clericofshadows]

I still have a lot of kaidan/zaeed stuff on the brain, so here's a fun little snippet of my next fic, which continues directly after you got me in a chokehold

Kaidan walked out of the building, breathing in the fresh, cool air.  To his surprise, Zaeed was already there, leaning against his motorcycle with a grin on his face.  “So, ready to grab some lunch?”

 “What are you in the mood for?” Kaidan asked, grabbing the helmet and putting it on.  

Zaeed climbed on the bike.  “Could go for some greasy fried food.”

Kaidan got on behind him, wrapping his arms around him and perching his head on his shoulder.  “Sounds good to me.  Have a place in mind?”

“I sure do.”  Zaeed took off from HQ.

They reached their destination relatively quickly, parking a block away.  Kaidan recognized the area, home to a hole-in-the-wall fried chicken place that was nothing short of excellent.  

“Good choice,” Kaidan said, reaching out for Zaeed’s hand as they walked across the street. 

Zaeed laced his fingers with his.  “You’re goddamn right.  Figured you’d be familiar.”

They walked inside the restaurant together, taking a seat at the nearest booth and glancing over the menu. 

A waiter came by and took their drink orders, both sticking to water for now. 

When he came back with their drinks, they decided to split a large order of spicy fried chicken with a selection of sides.  Kaidan opted for the mac and cheese and fried okra, while Zaeed ordered a basket of fries and onion rings.

“So,” Zaeed said after taking a long sip of his water.  “How did it go with Hackett?”

“I accepted the offer to join the N program and to continue Regis’s biotic plans,” Kaidan summarized.  “I’ll give you the full thing once we’re back home.”  Realizing what he just said, he widened his eyes and tried to backtrack, but Zaeed shushed him.

“It’s only been a day but I caught myself calling it home, too,” Zaeed admitted.  

Kaidan sheepishly rubbed his neck.  “It’s all moving really fast, but I guess we were always like that.”

“Even you and Regis?” He asked.  

“Not exactly.”  Kaidan took a drink of his water.  “We were friends for a while before we decided to get together, and he was the catalyst there.  Did we ever mention how we met?”

He shook his head.  “Not in detail.  Something about meeting in biotic training.”

That’s one way to put it.  Biotic training.

BAaT still wasn’t easy for him to talk about, even if Regis helped ease his pain about it.

“Yeah,” Kaidan said, not elaborating further.  Soon, maybe, but not here.  “We were friends for a couple of years before he made the first move one day while visiting me and my family.”

The waiter dropped off their food.  They took a moment to grab something from each plate and basket.  Their conversation lulled as they ate, enjoying each other’s company and the good comfort food.

As they started to slow down, Kaidan had to ask, “What the hell is a Frozen Pyjak, and what does it have to do with you and Hackett knowing each other?”

Zaeed grinned, setting down his fork and wiping his hands on a napkin.  “I knew it was bugging the shit out of you.  So, it’s a type of drink, y’know, the kind of thing that a bartender makes if they are pissed off at someone.”

“Okay…” Kaidan trailed off, furrowing his eyebrows. “Go on,” he said, moving his hand in a circle.

“The bartender empties their spill pad into a glass, something fancy, and spruces it up with some kind of garnish so it doesn’t look like complete shit.  And they give that to whatever unsuspecting customer that pissed them off.  Terrible business.  Even I wouldn’t do that to my worst enemy.” Zaeed hesitated, tilting his head in thought.  “Well, maybe I would.  Anyway, I think it’s goddamn horrid.”

Kaidan almost felt a little nauseous at the idea of the drink.   “I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.  So what does this have to do with–”

“I’m getting there,” Zaeed said, picking up his fork and stabbing at the remnants of his fries.  “I never told you this, and I probably should’ve, but back in the day, I was nearly Alliance.  Ultimately decided against it, but Hackett and I were in the same group.  Stayed friends even after I left.  Were more than that for a bit as he moved up in the ranks and I became involved in the Blue Suns.”

Kaidan wasn’t surprised to hear about the relationship part.  Something about the way Zaeed talked about him–a far off look in his eye–spoke of warm nostalgia.  However, hearing that Zaeed was almost Alliance threw him for a loop.

Feeling like part of the story was missing, Kaidan motioned for him to continue.  

“Most importantly, he was someone I could rely on after Vido shot me in the face,” Zaeed admitted, absentmindedly rubbing at his scar.  “Helped me out for a while before I got back out there.”

A deep bond, then.  Kaidan barely knew the details about the scar.  Regis had asked about it, and Zaeed told them about the betrayal and his vow for revenge.

Still, where does the drink fall into all of this?

“So, when I say that I can trust him, you can too.  Because our whole ‘thing’ started after someone tried to pull that drink shit on me.  Damn near started a bar fight over it.  Got ourselves kicked out, and well, if that someone was willing to lose a local haunt for me, then maybe he’s worth something,” Zaeed finished, a hint of a grin tugging on his lips.

Kaidan chose to not ask what Zaeed might’ve done to piss the bartender off.

“So, you two became friends all because of a fucked up drink?” Kaidan asked.

“Well, the three of us decided to fuck each other after you two got targeted by the vorcha mafia,” Zaeed shot back without missing a beat.  “And after I helped save your asses and almost losing my target.”

Well, he had a point.  Kaidan conceded, “Fair enough, but I remember us saving your ass when you misjudged how powerful vorcha biotics can be.”

“Agree to disagree.” Zaeed motioned with his fork, moving to spear the last of the fried okra from Kaidan’s plate.

“Hey!” He protested, fingers twitching to put the man in a slight Stasis, enough to stall his movement and steal his food back.  “You should’ve ordered more if you wanted some.”

“That was playing dirty,” Zaeed accused, pointing his fork at him.  “But smooth.  Barely felt like something was wrong before you zapped me out of it.”

Kaidan shrugged, chewing and swallowing the rest of the okra.  “That’s the point.  What are you going to do about it?”

“I think you have an idea.”

“Do I?” 

Zaeed pushed away his plate and tossed a credit chit on the table. "Yeah, you do.  There’s enough there to cover everything and some extra.  Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Right behind you."

#cleric's wip

[0celesteisthebest0]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

Okay I see you e got Fennec on your list and I am 👀👀

So! Can I ask for Fennec and "You don't have to do that." Whatever strikes your fancy! 💖💖

THANK YOU JEN!!!!!! I'm sorry this is a bit late but thank you for the birthday wishes friend! OOOOO yes Fennec!!!!! I hope you appreciate my take on her! This is my first time writing for her and I'm really happy you chose her! ENJOY!!

Sunnydew

Fennec Shand x reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, minor character death, fluff?

Things have been chaotic in Mos Espa, it’s always been chaotic but lately it’s a lot of unnecessary issues that shouldn’t happen. Boba Fett taking the reign as a Daiymo have gotten people stressed.

You didn’t feel the same considering things, Boba Fett was a definitely threatening individual and so were the people he hung around with but… there was no fear when you were around them. Maybe it’s because they were a calming presence to be around. Maybe you were a bit biased because of the fact that you worked with them.

 Did you have to put your work in to protect Boba and Fennec Shand when the time came to it? Yes, but that was never an issue for you.

You’d protect them no matter what even if Fennec stated repeatedly that she didn’t need any protection.

 “The deadliest assassin in the galaxy doesn’t need a bodyguard.” 

“I’m not a bodyguard… just a friend who’s looking out for you.” You said under your breath, not really making eye contact with her. 

“Oh a friend,” her gaze was sharp and you felt the slow glide up your figure when you murmured that. “You wanna look out for me sunnydew” 

Heat enveloped your body and you simply just nodded not wanting her to look at your face. The nickname she used was something to tease you about impulse buying sunnydews at the markets. 

“Then come with me, got some work to do,” She grabbed her modified sniper rifle and slung it over her shoulder. 

“Where are we going?” You quickly scurried by her side, following her out the palace. 

“I got business, you’ll be watching my back,” the dune sea encompassed your senses as you left the palace. 

  “No speeders?” You knew you were asking a lot of questions but you believed that it was a necessary thing to do. 

“Got two of them for us, it’ll be quick,” she smirked and put her helmet on and went towards the bikes in the distance. You scrambled to put your goggles on your face and started to run to the bike, somewhat excited that you’d be accompanying Fennec on business. You’ve done it before but this time it was just the two of you. “Easy there sunny’, we don’t gotta rush.” 

“Right,” you hopped on the speeder and waited patiently for her to get her things in order. “Follow my lead.” She set the visor down and started up the speeder, speeding out leaving the sand in her wake. You did your best in following her lead and were trailing behind her, trying to keep up. She stilted a bit, letting you catch up. She tilted her head towards you and you believed it was a signal to quicken the pace on her count. When she sped up again, you quickly followed her lead. When you were usually on the speeder bikes you focused on the vibrations beneath your fingers, the wind dispersing the sands making it erratic, and not being able to hear anything other than your heartbeat. But right now the only thing that was worth focusing on was Fennec’s hair whipping in the wind and your heart skipping a beat.

You’ve always wondered what her hair would look like let go, shiny and long. Maybe slightly covering her face, having to push it behind her ear and kissing her cheek in the process. Combing her soft hair after long days together. 

A whistle behind you getting you out of your thoughts and stopping the bike. You didn’t even realize you’ve gotten into the more populated parts of Mos Espa until Fennec got you out of your head. 

“Thought I said follow my lead. Didn’t know wandering was following my lead,” you smiled at her sheepishly, feeling bad you were holding her back. 

“Sorry I-,” She shook her head and took off her helmet to look at you head on. Her kind eyes were in contrast to her stoic exterior. 

“It’s alright sweetie, come on don’t beat yourself up about it.” She reached for your hand pulling you from the bike. She was close to you, continuing to hold your hand steering you to the “business” she was talking about. You’ve been around this area before, it was close to the market. She let your hand go when you reached the corner where she had business and took off her sniper. She handed it to you and you looked at her alarmed. 

“Don’t you need this,” you held her modified rifle gingerly and she just shook her head. 

“I’m meeting with acquaintances, just cover me as I leave. Acquaintances like to get stabby.” She joked and you looked at her somewhat concerned. “I’ll be fine sunnydew, just keep watch at a high point and I’ll come for you when our chat is over.” 

She disappeared in the little doorway and you followed her orders of finding a vantage point to make sure she didn’t get hurt. You found the perfect spot that wasn’t visible to the people below and you stayed still on the rooftop waiting for movement. You looked into the sniper trying to see if there was any movement but there was nothing and it was probably because you were feeling somewhat antsy. 

Fennec knew how to take out whole fleets of men and you’ve seen her do it but the feeling in your stomach was still sending you twists of anxiety about what might happen. You’ve never understood why you’ve had such strong feelings about her but she just had that effect on people. Calling others such sweet names and…Fennec didn’t call others nice things. She teased Boba with just about anything and didn’t call others who lived in the palace names like “sweetie”, stars… that must mean. 

It must mean she had a soft spot for you but you have no clue on why that is. You sighed to yourself as you stayed stagnant looking at the entrance waiting for her to come out. Hopefully they didn’t get stabby inside of the meeting place. 

“Nice spot you picked out, you need someone to watch your back though,” Fennec sat down next to you. You looked to the spot you were covering and back at Fennec confused at how she got here. “Back entrance, things got dicy inside so,” she didn’t continue her statement and looked at the vantage point where two men started leaving with broken noses and one with a bruised eye socket. 

“Is that-” she motioned you to move and you gave her rifle back and she swiftly took out the two men. 

“I could’ve done it,” you stated somewhat amazed that she was able to do all this so fast. 

“I know,” she sat up, removing the dust from her clothes and offered her hand towards you. “Had an entirely different plan coming here but.” 

“What was that?” You held her hand and she pulled you up towards her. 

“Needed some info, wanted an easy way to do it,” she huffed and you looked at her concerned. “It’s alright, I thought I could spend the rest of the day with you but I need to get some info for Boba.”

Hold on, your ears were definitely not misinterpreting that. Spend the rest of the day with me, not anyone else just you…

“Why? Why do you want to spend time with me? You have to deal with me all day at the palace. And I fill the place up with useless shit and-” She immediately stopped your rambling by holding your hands to her soft lips. 

“I like you, thought I was being obvious.”

“Oh-” you wanted to tell her more, tell her how you feel but it seemed that your face fell and Fennec just nodded her head.

“We can talk about this at the palace, I’ll bring you back and-” 

“No! Fennec wait, please. I want to go with you,” you held her shoulders and surprised yourself in doing so. You removed your hands quickly and she smirked wide at you.

“You don’t have to.” It was said with a smile and you felt like she knew you were gonna fight her on that statement. 

“I want to spend time with you too, please let me go.” You muttered out and she tilted your head up to look at her. 

“Well what are you waiting for Sunnydew, let’s fix this up and we can spend the rest of the day together.”

“I’d love that,” you held her hand happy that Fennec was here with you.

#fennec shand x reader #birthday presents! #requests