#when jesus christ bursts in with a whip

[inamindfarfaraway]

The Exorcists’ Masks of Virtue

The vast majority of Exorcists in Hazbin Hotel have a notable design element that other angels don’t: their masks are missing an eye. Specifically, the right eye.

I believe this is a reference to the Bible, Matthew 5:29. Jesus says, “If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.”

He’s being hyperbolic. Mr Free Healthcare was not pro-mutilation. What he means is that you have to be willing to make sacrifices to prevent sin. The context of the eye metaphor is him condemning adultery and warning that even something as easy, casual and small as a look full of lustful intent can lead to further, worse sin if you don’t notice your sin, hold yourself accountable for it and do the work to not let it influence your decisions. This will probably be hard. It could be very, very painful. Changing your perspective can feel as horrible as plucking out your eye, so many people can’t bring themselves to do it. But although it won’t feel that way in the moment, it’s healthier for our general wellbeing in the long run to abandon traits and behaviours that damage ourselves and/or others.

(You may notice that Jesus’s teaching that you can have sinned, redeem yourself by giving up sin and thus escape damnation is the founding principle of the Hazbin Hotel. You may also notice that it contradicts everything the Exorcists believe.)

The Exorcists seem to follow this idea of painfully excising badness for the sake of the greater good devoutly to the point of placing it above teachings like ‘Thou shalt not kill’, with their job being to remove sin, in the form of sinners, to protect Heaven. Hence the missing right eyes. They’re a declaration of moral righteousness and inability to stumble.

But the truth is that the Exorcists all have their right eyes. Their flawlessness is a facade. Underneath, they are untouched, think themselves morally untouchable and, as shown by their horror and outrage when even one of them is killed, would much rather be physically untouchable too. This perfectly represents their complete unwillingness to acknowledge their own faults, let alone improve. They are never the ones who sacrifice. They force the sinners to sacrifice and don’t compensate it with any salvation. They metaphorically rip out the sinners’ eyes, but still condemn their entire bodies as inherently, permanently sinful. So they’ll just have to do another Extermination to get the other eyes! And another one to cut off their right hands! And so on until there’s nothing left.

The only exception to the rule is Vaggie, both in appearance and character. Her mask has the left eye crossed out instead. Even before her expulsion, she’s set apart to the audience as an Exorcist who has the capacity to, shall we say, see a different side of things. Her mask having its ‘sinful’ right eye reflects her understanding that the Exorcist worldview is wrong.

When she almost kills a demon child, her hateful vision clears. She discards the part of herself that’s an unquestioning, merciless agent of death, terror and grief… and as punishment for what Lute perceives as treacherous weakness, gets her eye plucked out.

Of course Lute leaves her with only the ‘sinful’ eye. It brands Vaggie forever as the inversion, a perversion, of what the Exorcists are meant to be.

You know, all this talk of eye removal in the Bible reminds of another line - ‘an eye for an eye’. Adam directly quotes it in “Hell is Forever”. He uses it to frame the Exterminations as Old Testament-style punitive justice; the sinners did harm and so they receive it. But putting aside the debate about how ethical the concept of revenge is, the entire point of taking an eye for an eye is that it’s proportional. The punishment fits the crime. If someone cuts your eye out, you shouldn’t murder their whole family in front of them and then slowly disembowel them to death. That would be the sin of wrath. You should just make them pay without excessive pain or collateral damage. This is the fairest form of revenge.

The Exorcists don’t do that! The Exterminations aren’t proportional to the wrongs of all they hurt, nor was Vaggie’s brutal punishment equivalent to her extremely mild insubordination. Lute literally takes Vaggie’s eye, and more, after Vaggie does nothing to her! That’s the opposite of the phrase! Adam and his soldiers are wrathful and cruel, deriving satisfaction from others’ suffering. But they just can’t stop going on and on about how disgustingly evil the sinners are, in total hypocrisy… despite some of the sinners being far better people than the genocidal Exorcists are… it’s like they’re obsessed with specks of dust in the sinners’ eyes when they have massive logs stuck in their own. Oh hey, that’s in the Bible too!

#both emotionally and symbolically i am rooting for vaggie or charlie to take out one of lute’s eyes #i was like ‘cool vaggie’s missing the opposite eye to her former mask!’ #and then i went back and saw that her mask was also different #and then i went down a rabbit hole of biblical mentions of bad things happening to eyes #i know god and jesus (and the holy spirit) probably won’t appear in the show #at least not in person #but i do cherish the mental image of adam and his genocidal army hanging out #when jesus christ bursts in with a whip #and gets all ‘you have made my father’s house into a den of thieves’ on them but an order of magnitude more intense #because HE SAID LOVE ONE ANOTHER #WHERE IS THE LOVE #HE SPECIFICALLY REQUESTED IT #i’m not christian! i’m a hardcore atheist! #religion is just as fictious to me as egyptian mythology #however i am also autistic and have major special interests in mythology and folklore #so here i am fervently writing analysis of the sermon on the mount #hazbin hotel #hazbin vaggie #hazbin hotel vaggie #vaggie #hazbin hotel exorcists #hazbin exorcists #hazbin hotel analysis #hazbin analysis

[wynnyfryd]

hey, quick question but what if Eddie hadn’t just said “make him pay” at the end? what if he’d actually done it, screwed up his face and his single scrap of courage and kissed Steve hard, one desperate press of lips before he stepped back out of Steve’s space? Only…

Only Steve’s not gay. He’s not. Not that there’s anything wrong with it if Eddie is, but he isn’t. Steve likes girls, is kind of hung up on one girl in particular, actually, and she’s standing right behind him watching this go down, and oh, God is this awkward now.

He squares his shoulders, gives Eddie a nod that he hopes conveys something like “sorry” and “it’s okay” and “I’m not gonna punch you when this is over, man, I’m really not,” but Eddie’s eyes cut away and he clears his throat and then Nancy’s saying, “Steve? Steve, we need to go.”

So Steve goes.

Steve goes, trudges through the woods with Nancy radiating uncomfortable energy all down his side, and Steve’s got a pit in his stomach and a scorch mark on his mouth where Eddie’s lips left a fucking brand, the kiss repeating on a loop in his mind. He starts thinking about how he’s probably about to die, how he’s gonna die feeling all upside down in the Upside Down and it’s a really stupid joke but it gets him mulling over the fucked up weird life he has now versus the one he always kinda thought he wanted. He tells Nancy about it: the crawling backwards, the thump on the head, how she’s always his co-captain in his Winnebago dreams.

She looks at him with soft, sad eyes — God, her eyes are always so sad, have been ever since the day Barb disappeared — and she rests a delicate hand on his forearm and asks, “Do you think… do you think maybe it’s always me in your dream because I’m the only person your mind thinks it’s allowed to put there?”

“What do you mean?”

“Steve.” Her eyes aren’t so soft now. They’re shining with that hard glint they get when she’s lost patience with Steve’s bullshit. It’s a look Steve knows well, and his hand comes up to touch his lips.

“But I- I’m not…”

“Just go,” she says, her jaw set, all that unbreakable resolve on display. “Robin and I can handle this. Go.”

Robin turns back to look at him over her shoulder, gives him an encouraging nod, and Steve takes off running, sprinting through the trees, following the sound of screeching bats.

When he bursts through the treeline, panting and sweating and clutching at his torn-up sides, Eddie’s in the middle of a maelstrom, his makeshift shield held in a shaking grip as an army of bats encircle him.

“Eddie!” Steve shouts, lungs burning as he begs his feet to move faster, to run fucking run because one of the bats dives at Eddie’s head and another takes a bite out of his leather sleeve; a third one whips a tail around Eddie’s ankle and then Eddie’s going down, pulled to the cracked, filthy earth by gnashing teeth and bloodied claws, and they’re eating him, getting at all those squishy vital bits around his middle when Steve finally hacks his way through the horde to get to Eddie’s side. Armed with an ax and Eddie’s spear, Steve strikes and slashes blindly at the wall of shrieking monsters as they start circling tighter, caging them in, and he’s dead they’re both dead they’re so fucking screwed—

The bats drop. All at once and with no reason Steve can discern, their screams fall silent and their bodies squelch all around them as they slap the hard ground like dead fish on a dock.

Steve drops to his knees beside Eddie, and Jesus Christ, there’s- there’s so much blood oh God oh fuck.

“Bad, huh?” Eddie asks, and how is he still smirking when there’s blood spilling out of his mouth? When there’s a chunk missing out of his jaw?

“Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ,” Steve mumbles frantically, not sure if he’s praying or panicking or both. He gets his shirt off, rips at the remaining scraps of Eddie’s, too; starts using them to make bandages. “Shit, Eddie, just- just hold on, okay? Stay with me.”

He wriggles a scrap of fabric under Eddie’s brutalized torso, and Eddie screams when Steve pulls it tight around his sides, ties it off and presses down, trying to slow the bleeding. There’s so much fucking blood. His knees slip in it as he ties a tourniquet just above Eddie’s elbow, hoping it’ll save Eddie’s mangled arm, and he bunches the last of the fabric up and presses it to the shredded edges of the wound on Eddie’s face.

Eddie smiles up at him with tears in his eyes, with blood on his lips. “Pretty- pretty grand gesture for a guy you don’t want to kiss.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve says, and he’s crying, too. “I don’t- I just…”

“Steve,” Eddie chokes, his breath whistling out with a sickening wheeze, and Steve doesn’t know how the fuck he’s going to get him through the gate and back to safety without making him bleed out. “Steve, it’s… s’okay. M’sorry I kissed you, man.” His eyes are glazing over, and no, please, please, don’t—

Eddie looks up at him, brow furrowed, like it’s taking a lot of effort. His eyes are still so pretty, even now, as Steve hovers helplessly and watches the light slowly leave them. “Actually, I- I guess m’not,” Eddie slurs. “Had to do it at least once b-before I- before I—”

“EDDIE!!!!” a furious, cracking voice echoes through the empty park. Eddie’s trailer door bangs open, falling off its hinges, and a limping Dustin Henderson comes storming across the lot.

“Dustin!!” Steve hollers back, relief flooding his veins like maple syrup straight from the tap, and incredibly (hysterically, he’s probably in shock), he’s laughing when he looks back down at Eddie. Eddie, who’s half dead in his lap, whose blood is all over Steve’s pants. Who Steve might be able to save now.

He shakes Eddie’s shoulders and says, “You can kiss me all you want when we make it out of here, man,” his voice all high-pitched and full of phlegm and trapped somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and Eddie’s eyes go wide at the promise in Steve’s words.

“Dustin!” Steve yells again, pleading, “Dustin, come on, come help me move him!”

It’s slow going, but they get Eddie through the gate, get him taped up so he’s more bandage than boy by the time the ambulance arrives. A medic claps Steve on the shoulder and says ‘You did good, kid,’ and Steve cries at that and then spends an annoying amount of time crying over the next few days, curled up in a rickety chair at Eddie’s bedside in the hospital.

More tears when Eddie finally wakes up. Happy ones this time, and there’s a parade of people coming in to hug Eddie and give him flowers and even Hopper gives him a grudging hair ruffle and an attaboy, and then Steve’s driving Eddie home in the Beemer; gets all the way to the driveway before Eddie brings it up.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, his voice timid and barely audible over the hum of the car.

Steve cuts the engine. “Hmm?”

“Did you, um- the thing, that you…” Eddie spins a ring around on his finger, lets out a frustrated huff. “I mean, I didn’t die, right? I made it out of there, so…?”

You can kiss me all you want when we make it out of here.

Steve’s ears burn at the memory, his mouth going dry, and he must take too long to answer because Eddie starts trying to backpedal. “Sorry. Sorry, you said you’re not— I just thought, maybe— shit, uh, f-forget I said-”

“No! No, um.” Steve scratches the back of his neck. “Turns out I kind of am. Or, like. Well, I mean, Robin said liking both is its own thing, it’s not a mix of the two, but…”

“…But both?” Eddie finishes, and his eyes are sparkling.

“Yeah. Both,” Steve shrugs. It’s getting easier to say. “…Mostly just you, though.”

“Oh, just mostly, huh?” Eddie teases, unbuckling his seatbelt so he can lean into Steve’s space.

Steve’s face feels too warm. His neck is probably all splotchy. “Whatever. Are you gonna shut up and kiss me already or what?”

“Uh huh,” Eddie grins and runs his tongue over his teeth. “Many times as I want, right?” He brushes Steve’s hair behind his ear, his calloused fingers so gentle against Steve’s jaw as he lines their faces up.

“How many times is that?” Steve whispers.

“Mm….” Eddie’s mouth brushes against his. “Start counting and let’s find out.”

#‘hey quick question’ she says and then writes 1400 #lmao whoops #steddie #steddie fic #steddie drabble #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #dustin henderson #happy sunday i know i promised more yogi steve he’s COMIN but in the meantime have whatever this is

[chvoswxtch]

confession

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: one confession changes everything.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of guns, bombs, blood & violence

word count: 5.5k

a/n: dun dun dunnnnnn. i hope y'all are hungry for drama, bc that's exactly what i whipped up. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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The second you burst through the door to Billy’s office, three sets of eyes were immediately on you. A look of pure annoyance settled on Frank’s face when he saw that you had directly disobeyed his order to wait in the truck, and he instantly began to stalk over towards you while grunting under his breath. 

“I told you to wait in the-“

Something in your eyes must have caught his attention, because Frank abruptly stopped dead in his tracks and the irritation plastered on his face quickly shifted into a look you weren’t familiar with seeing on his hardened features. 

Fear.

The movement of someone hastily rising from their chair caught your eye, and your lethal gaze completely bypassed Billy’s evident look of surprise to land on the culprit of your imminent wrath. 

“Y/N, oh thank God. Where the hell have you been? Everyone has been looking for you for-“

Crack. 

The moment your fist collided with Steven’s face, pain shot through your knuckles, and you tore your hand away as if you had touched a hot stove top, clutching your hand to your chest with a tight grimace on your face as you groaned. 

“Oh, fuck!”

Billy’s dark brows rose significantly up his forehead, and his jaw went slack in astonishment. Frank’s eyes nearly doubled in size as he gawked at you in complete shock. Below you, Steven was on the ground, holding his nose and groaning in agony as deep streams of crimson slipped through his fingers. 

“Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck was that for?” 

“It was you, you son of a bitch!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about-”

“No I don’t, what the fuck is your problem? You on your period or something, that why you’re acting so fucking crazy?”

Steven’s words only fueled your rage and made you completely blindsided by your own anger. You weren’t thinking clearly, and when Billy came around his desk to stand beside you to assess the situation, you reached out to quickly pull his gun from his holster to aim it directly at Steven, whose expression of exasperation swiftly morphed into pure panic as he stared up at the barrel of the gun in your hand. 

Billy immediately lept into action, grabbing onto your wrist tightly with his right hand to push the gun’s barrel away from Steven’s face while his left hand gripped onto your arm to lock it in place. 

“Whoa whoa whoa, easy, darlin’.”

Behind you, Frank’s boots thudded heavily against the floor in a rush, and you soon felt the heat of his palm against your lower back through the thin material of your shirt. His other large hand reached over Billy’s to grip onto the barrel of the gun, keeping you from pointing it where you wanted to. Normally being so close to Frank that you could feel the tickle of his warm breath against your ear would’ve sent a shiver trickling down your spine, but the fury you felt seemed to singe every nerve ending that would’ve otherwise been affected by the juxtaposition of his gruff voice pleading gently with you. 

“Easy, sweetheart. Gimme the gun. Whatever you think you wanna do right now, you don’t.”

“I want him to admit it.”

Steven swallowed thickly as you spit your venom at him through gritted teeth. Your eyes hadn’t left his once since they locked onto him when you stepped into Billy’s office. He wiped the blood lingering above his thin top lip with the sleeve of his shirt, staining the crisp white fabric a deep shade of maroon, and raised both of his hands slowly in a show of surrender as he stared up at you in trepidation.

“Y/N…whatever you think I did-“

“I don’t think. I know. You’re behind the Defenders of Freedom. All of this shit-all the people that have been hurt, all the people that have died-I almost died because of you.”

Steven let out a nervous chuckle as he shook his head slowly, moving to sit up on his knees as he stared up at you in bewilderment. 

“What? That’s…that’s crazy. I was attacked by them. I don’t know why you would-“

Before he could utter another lie, you lifted your phone in your other hand that wasn’t still gripping onto the gun and started playing the recording you had, causing the entire room to go silent.

“Price! We got a fucking problem here! You said she was supposed to be alone, man. Well she’s not fucking alone! Someone’s fucking here and they’re-“

Cavella’s voice was cut off by the sound of bullets ricocheting around your kitchen. Steven’s eyes went wide with terror once you stopped the recording, a look of fear flashing through them that you had only ever seen Frank bring out in him. That look had power surging through your veins; to finally have that sense of strength over a man who had tried to make you feel small and brittle the entire duration of your relationship. It was intoxicating to be able to stare down into his petrified gaze.

Frank and Billy both immediately went rigid once the recording stopped. Billy’s look of concern for you all of a sudden morphed into an accusatory glare as he slowly turned his head to look down at Steven. One by one, he untangled his fingers from around your wrist and let go of your arm, turning to face Steven fully and stare him down as he towered over him. 

“Frank, let go.”

“Bill-“

“Let her have it.”

“She don’t know how to use it-“

“She’s about to learn.”

The icy edge to Billy’s voice momentarily suspended your anger, and your lips parted slightly, noticing the look of pure disdain clenched in his jaw. Frank slowly came into view beside you, his large hand still clamped around the barrel of the gun, and when you turned to look at him, you could see the anger and concern clashing in his eyes. A muscle feathered in his jaw as he stared into your eyes, the internal battle displayed in the reflection of his almost like a play. You could see his hesitation to let go as much as you could see his own desire to follow Billy’s direction. 

Glancing down at his own hand on the gun, his brows furrowed slightly, and he exchanged a knowing glance with Billy. Giving you one final look, he let out a deep exhale through his large nose, relinquishing his hold on the gun and removing his hand from your lower back to take a step backwards to give you some space. He immediately turned his body to face forward, staring down at Steven with a menacing glare while his index and middle finger twitched at his sides. Flickering your eyes over towards Billy, he gave you a subtle nod of encouragement before focusing his attention back on Steven. 

Sucking in a sharp inhale, you fixated your gaze back on Steven and aimed the gun at him again with more confidence this time. It felt foreign holding a gun for the first time, and it was heavier than you expected, but the weight of the weapon in your hand was nothing compared to the weight of knowing all the hell you had endured the past several months were because of the man on his knees in front of you.

“I wanna hear you admit it.”

Steven’s eyes desperately flickered between the three of you. It was clear he wasn’t getting any sympathy from Frank or Billy, but he was still egotistical enough to think he had some kind of hold on you that he could use to his advantage. He shook his head quickly as he reached a shaky hand out towards you.

“Y/N, this is all a huge misunderstanding. Look, I asked those guys to look after you because-“

“I don’t want any bullshit, Steven. I want the truth. Cavella outed himself and Walker about being involved with the bombings. They weren’t there to look after me, they were there to kidnap me. Why? First you tried to have me killed, and then kidnapped-“

“Whoa whoa, no. That is not at all what was supposed to happen-“ 

“Then what was supposed to happen, Steven?”

“You weren’t supposed to antagonize them! The only reason you became a target is because you pissed them off! If you hadn’t been so fucking-“

Billy took a swift step forward and backhanded Steven across the face, glaring down at him with his lips set in a hard line. 

“I would watch the way you talk to someone pointin’ a fuckin’ gun at you, dipshit.”

Steven clenched his jaw with a wince as he squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a frustrated exhale. 

“Fuckin’ figures you’d be behind this shit. Bombs are a cowards weapon, and that’s exactly what you fuckin’ are.”

Frank’s voice was dangerously low and absolutely dripping with unfiltered hatred. 

“I never hurt anyone. No one was ever supposed to get hurt at all. Look, Cavella and Walker had this group of vets that were already causing a lot of trouble. I…I thought I could use them to my advantage. I made them a deal that if they would do exactly as I said when I said, I’d fund them and keep them hidden and out of prison.”

“How exactly does a homegrown terrorist group advantage you?”

Steven sighed in frustration as he stared up at you, dropping his hands by his sides. The look of indignation in his eyes made your blood feel like molten lava in your veins. You had seen that look countless times when you were together. It was an expression he gave you when he felt like he was pointing out something obvious to you, or felt the need to mansplain something he thought you weren’t intelligent enough to figure out on your own.

“It would’ve helped me win the election.”

Complete disbelief was shot throughout your entire nervous system like a shockwave as you blanched at him with a curt, humorless laugh. 

“You’re fucking joking. You murdered people-“

“No. I didn’t do that. Cavella and Walker were just supposed to blow up a few buildings and make a few stupid threats that I could use as a talking point for my campaign. They were gonna threaten me publically, and that was gonna gain me sympathy points in the polls. They already had a few guys lined up to take the fall for everything, and it was all gonna go down the week before the election. Can you imagine the votes I’d get for taking down a terrorist group? I’d win by a fucking landslide.”

“You are un-fucking-believable.”

“Look, I’ll admit, they got out of hand, alright? I told you, no one was supposed to get hurt at all. Politics is messy. Sometimes you do things you’re not proud of-“

“You’re really trying to excuse what you did-“

“I made a mistake, Y/N. I was trying to fix it-“

“How does kidnapping me fix it?”

Steven dragged his palms down his face in complete exasperation as he shook his head with a dry laugh. 

“I knew a journalist was attacking them in the media but I didn’t realize it was you. I tried to tell Cavella and Walker you were off limits, but they didn’t wanna hear it. I mean, you taunted them relentlessly in the media. So, I agreed to let them kidnap you, but they weren’t actually gonna hurt you. I told them if they did, I’d pull their funding and expose them. They were just supposed to scare you into shutting up-”

Before you had a chance to react, Frank surged forward and struck his fist across Steven’s face hard, sending him flying two feet away from where he was sitting on his knees. When Frank moved to advance towards Steven to unleash more of his rage, Billy thrust his arm across Frank’s chest to halt his movements. 

“Let her finish.”

Your eyes widened at the force Frank had knocked Steven back with. You watched as Steven curled up onto his side, his hand hovering over the fresh gash Frank’s knuckles had torn into his cheek, and you grimaced slightly at the pool of blood leaking past his lips. Steven let out a frustrated yell of pain while clutching at his face.

“Fuck! God…none of this even fucking matters anymore, alright? We have a bigger problem. Someone else knew about Cavella and Walker showing up to Y/N’s place and killed them, and I would think she would be more concerned that they’re still out there somewhere-”

“I did.”

Steven paused his furious rant to look up at Frank, his bloodied face twisted up in absolute confusion. 

“What?”

Frank took a bold step forward, his eyes wild with restrained fury, and his top lip curled up slightly in a menacing snarl as he grit his words out at Steven.

“I killed ‘em.”

Steven blinked a few times in pure dumbfoundment. The puzzlement swimming in his eyes seemed to swirl like a hurricane into a pool of fear before settling into a tide of anger. As he glared between Frank and Billy, he pointed an accusatory bloody finger towards Frank.

“You…you ruined everything! I staged my car being blown up so Homeland would pull you away from her. If you had fucking done as you were told this would’ve all been over in two weeks! You weren’t supposed to be there-”

“Well that’s your fuckin’ stupid ass mistake thinkin’ I would ever leave her alone.”  

Frank was beyond seething at this point, and the boom of his voice echoed in Billy’s office like a loud clap of thunder. But it wasn’t the volume of his words that made you shiver; it was the truth you heard in them. 

Something about Steven’s argument piqued your curiosity, and you stared down at him with narrowed eyes.

“Wouldn’t exposing them also expose you?”

Steven scoffed at your question like it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

“No, I’m not stupid. I paid them in cash. We only exchanged information verbally, or through a burner phone, so there was nothing tying me to them. If they even tried, I would’ve buried them in charges.“

Your brows furrowed slightly at his implication, letting out a dry laugh as you watched him spit out blood. 

“You mean you would’ve falsified files to get them locked away to hide your own dirty secrets?”

“I’ve been doing it my entire career. You really think I haven’t lost a case because I’m that good? Come on, no lawyer has that string of luck.”

Every dark revelation coming from Steven’s mouth only made your blood blaze even hotter. You momentarily dropped the gun by your side, taking a few steps over towards Steven with a look of absolute fury in your eyes while you smiled humorlessly. 

“I can’t tell you how much I’m going to fucking enjoy watching you burn for this. Guess I’ll be writing about you after all.”

Steve let out a deep laugh, showcasing his bloodstained teeth in a cocky smile as he looked up at you. 

“Princess, have you forgotten who I am? Who my father is? None of this is coming back to me. I told you, I have no direct ties to those overzealous psychos. That little recording you have only proves I sent two officers to watch out for my ex-girlfriend that was in danger. There’s no proof I knew they were involved. And even with your two little witnesses here, it’s all circumstantial evidence. No one is gonna believe you. You have nothing.”

“I’d say we have a confession.”

Steven rolled his eyes as he turned his head to look up at Billy, that nauseating smirk plastered over his lips. 

“Not exactly how a confession works, pretty boy. This would all be hearsay, if it even made it to court.”

Billy arched one of his dark brows, his deep obsidian eyes narrowing slightly with a sparkle of mischief shining in them as his lips stretched into a wolfish grin. He suddenly held up his phone that displayed a recording that was still currently going. 

“Is it?”

Steven’s smirk instantly disappeared realizing that Billy had been silently capturing the entire conversation. Showcasing a victorious smirk of his own, Billy pressed the button to stop the recording and slipped his phone into his pocket. 

Frank’s face was still contorted in barely contained rage while glaring down at Steven as he barked a command. 

“Names. Now.”

Steven swallowed thickly looking up at Frank, glancing between him and Billy in a newfound alarm.

“Okay…look…I’ll give you everything. If…if we can work something out-“

Frank stalked over towards Steven and grabbed him by his neck, lifting him up like a rag doll and shoving him against the wall so hard, it indented the wall in Billy’s office. 

“We ain’t workin’ nothin’ out ‘cept whether you leave this goddamn office breathin’ or not, you got that? Now you can gimme those fuckin’ names, or I’ll tear ‘em outta you.”

Steven gripped onto Frank’s arms with both hands tightly, coughing from the restricted airflow, his ridiculous shoes thrashing against the wall from where Frank had him suspended above the floor.

“Cavella…was in…charge. Walker…was his…partner…I-addresses. I have… addresses…phone numbers…left pocket-“

Frank reached into Steven’s pocket with his free hand, pulling the burner phone out to toss in Billy’s direction. Billy quickly caught it and opened it, and after a few moments of searching through it, snapped it shut with a nod.

“Got it.”

Frank let go of Steven's neck, letting him collapse onto the floor in front of his boots, the corner of his mouth curling up into a snarl as Steven was sent into a coughing fit trying to catch his breath. 

“Pull the trigger, darlin’.”

All three of your heads snapped in Billy’s direction, but he was only looking at you. Your lips parted slightly in surprise, glancing between Steven’s horrified eyes and Billy’s calm ones. 

“What? We…we have his confession-“

Billy crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against his desk, nodding in your direction. 

“We got a confession, but he could say it was coerced, and we got nothin’ else to pin to him. There’s a very real chance daddy could save the day on this one. You wanna risk that?”

A crease of confusion furrowed between your brows, and Billy’s features took on a more serious expression.

“We’ll back you. It would be cut and dry self defense.” 

A look of astonishment blanketed your face when you realized what Billy was offering.

He wanted you to kill Steven.

Your eyes immediately went wide, and you looked over at Frank, hoping to see the same shock that was shining in your own eyes, but you didn’t find that.

Frank was staring at you in that same clash of hesitation and wrath, but you couldn’t detect a single ounce of disagreement with Billy’s offer. A sudden chill nipped at the back of your neck, and you slowly started to shake your head. Frank took a cautious step towards you, reaching out for your hand still holding onto the gun.

“You ain’t gotta do it. Lemme have it.”

“Frank-“

“Give it to me, and go wait in the truck.”

Your brows knit together in perplexity and disappointment as you stared between him and Billy, shaking your head adamantly.

“No.”

“Sweetheart-“

“No! He needs to pay for what he’s done. He and the others need to rot in prison. They need to spend the rest of their miserable lives in a tiny cell, knowing they’ll never get out. That’s what they deserve. They don’t just get to die and get it over with. They’re not getting away with it-“

“No one said they were, darlin’. Give Frank the gun.”

“He’s going to prison.”

Billy stared at you for a moment with an unreadable expression. Letting out an exhale through his nose, he nodded his head slightly in acceptance and straightened out his tie.

“If that’s what you want.”

Clutching onto the handle of the gun tightly, you glanced between Billy and Frank, noticing the polar difference in their expressions. Billy seemed calm and collected while Frank looked like he was seconds away from unleashing his wrath on Steven. Despite the power the two of them held, the decision was yours.

“Call Homeland.”

»»———　　———««

Watching Steven getting hauled away in handcuffs should’ve filled you with a sense of relief, but as you sat in the large conference room alone and watched Homeland agents scramble around the building through the floor to ceiling glass walls, there was a feeling of unease twisting your stomach into anxious knots. 

Your thoughts were interrupted when a woman with shoulder length chocolate curls and espresso tinted eyes pushed open the door to the conference room. Her gaze was somewhat intense, and captivating, but there was a tight smile on her lips when she approached you and held out her hand.

“Y/N Y/L/N, I’m agent Dinah Madani with Homeland Security. I’ve been working on your case.”

Reaching your hand out to take hers, you noticed she had a firm grasp. When you made the connection with her words in your head, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“You’re Frank’s friend.”

Dinah lifted one of her perfectly arched dark brows in playful curiosity as a more candid and genuine soft smile graced her lips. 

“Friend is a…strong word. But for all intents and purposes, sure.”

She gave you a knowing look, and you simply nodded in silent understanding as the tiny smile pulling at the edge of your mouth reached the center of your lips. Dinah took a seat beside you and leaned back in the chair slightly, letting out a deep exhale as her gaze flickered between the agents currently interviewing Billy and Frank before landing back on you with a softer expression.

“You know…what you did, it was brave. Incredibly reckless, to taunt two psychopaths with loaded guns and a hobby of blowing shit up, but brave. And extremely clever.”

That lingering sensation of dread crept up your spine again, causing you to shudder. The weight of the past few months, and the last seventy-two hours especially, bubbled in your stomach like bile threatening to erupt. There was a question that had been echoing in your head for the past forty-five minutes, one you were afraid to know the answer to.

“Is it enough?”

Dinah tilted her head to the side slightly as she stared over at you, her dark brows twinged with confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“The recordings…his confession…is it enough?”

Hearing the worriment that trembled in your voice, Dinah’s features softened as the blurriness of your apprehension finally became clear, and she understood exactly what you were asking. She reached a hand over to firmly place on top of yours and leaned in so that she was staring directly into your eyes while she spoke in a strong and confident tone.

“I will personally make sure this son of a bitch goes down, and goes down hard. I don’t care if his father is richer than God, Steven Price is going to pay for what he did. They all will. I promise.”

There was a quiet ferocity to Dinah, and you got the impression that she was a woman with zero tolerance for bullshit, but despite her intensity, she made you feel relaxed. It almost reminded you of your early interactions with Frank. 

“Thank you.”

The blazing passion in her eyes cooled off the tiniest bit when you said that, and you got the feeling those were two words she didn’t hear often. Before Dinah could respond, the door to the conference room creaked open, and that fire was burning brightly in her eyes once again as she stared down the intruder. You thought she might have been glaring at Frank for some reason, but when you looked over your shoulder, you were surprised to see it was Billy.

He stood on the opposite side of the table with his hands in his pockets, looking at Dinah with a faint smirk on his lips that almost looked arrogant, and a rogue twinkle in his eyes.

“Madani.”

Dinah sat up straighter in her seat as she stared intently over at Billy, not even bothering to plaster a cordial smile on her lips.

“Russo.”

There was a tension lingering between the two of them like a dense and heavy fog, and your eyes darted between them in total curiosity. Billy cleared his throat and squared his shoulders as he gestured towards you with his chin.

“Mind if I have a word with her alone?”

Instead of answering him, Madani turned her attention towards you, raising one of her brows in silent questioning. After giving her a subtle nod, she looked over at Billy warily out of the corner of her eye and let out a heavy exhale through her nose, giving you a nod of her own and rising from her seat. 

“I’ll be outside.”

As she made her way over towards the conference door to leave, her and Billy’s eyes were locked on one another in an almost strained staring contest. But while Billy’s eyes reflected amusement, Madani stared at Billy in a look that resembled…suspicion. Once it was just you and Billy in the room, you looked over at him in complete puzzlement with an arched brow.

“What did you do to piss off Homeland Security?”

Billy let out a dark chuckle as he rounded the long, deep mahogany conference table, unbuttoning his suit jacket to take a seat next to you.

“We uh…used to date.”

For some reason, that confession caught you off guard. It was hard to picture someone like Billy with someone like Madani. Granted, she was just as attractive as he was, but their personalities seemed so…different. Glancing down at your hands, you let out a dry and humorless short laugh.

“I guess you really fucked up.”

Billy’s sharp features contorted into a look of faux offense, but the grin on his lips gave away his true feelings.

“What makes you so sure it was my fault?”

Turning your head slightly to give him a pointed look, he let out a deep chuckle and nodded as he leaned back in the chair and glanced around the empty conference room.

“Fair enough.”

Staring down at your hand that you had punched Steven with, you noticed that your knuckles had begun to swell, and the skin was changing into the early shades of a bruise. So much adrenaline had been coursing through your body, you hadn’t felt any pain at all until now. You could barely tighten your fingers into a weak fist without feeling a sharp tenderness, and there was dried blood around the stitches in your palm from clutching the gun so tightly.

A gun that Billy had wanted you to pull the trigger on.

“I wasn’t going to shoot him.”

“I know. You couldn’t have even if you wanted to.”

Shifting your gaze to look over at Billy in total confusion, there was a small smile on his lips as he looked back at you. He slowly crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side while gazing softly at you.

“The safety was on.”

All of a sudden, everything clicked.

That’s why Frank let go of the gun.

He had seen that the safety was on and knew you couldn’t do any damage. A surprised scoff left your lips as you shook your head slowly while all these new pieces fit into the puzzle. But as you ran your fingers through your hair with your uninjured hand, there was one question that was still missing an answer. You turned your head to stare at Billy inquisitively.

“Then why did you say-”

Billy shook his head and leaned over in his seat closer towards you, resting his elbows on his thighs.

“I was just tryin’ to scare him. He spent months terrorizin’ you, I thought it was only fair we scare the shit outta him too. I’m sorry if I took it too far, darlin’. But, I knew you wouldn’t do it, even if the safety wasn’t on.”

The way he said that with such conviction struck something within you, and you sat up a little straighter as you furrowed your brows slightly.

“What makes you say that?”

Billy instantly picked up on the challenging tone lacing your question, and he let out a light chuckle while looking at you with one of his dark brows arched. 

“Besides the fact you don’t know how to use a gun?”

He took a moment to let his teasing words linger in the space between you, letting out an amused snort at the way you pursed your lips and lifted your brows defiantly. 

“Cause that ain’t you, darlin’. Besides, Frank wouldn’t let you do somethin’ like that. He woulda done it himself to keep your conscience clear.”

As if on cue, Frank pushed through the door of the conference room with an ice pack in one hand and a first aid kit in the other. He glanced between you and Billy, his dark brows slightly knit together before his gaze landed on you, and he gestured loosely with the ice pack.

“Thought you might need this for that right hook, Rocky.”

Billy threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh while you struggled to fight the grin that threatened to take over your lips as you glanced down at your slightly swollen hand. Billy stood up from the chair and buttoned his suit jacket, lightly squeezing your shoulder.

“That was impressive. Remind me to never piss you off.”

While Billy left the conference room to speak to some of the guys that worked for him, Frank took his previous spot in the chair next to you and set the ice pack and first aid kit on the table.

“Lemme see.”

Letting out a soft sigh, you slowly placed your hand into his larger one and winced as he gingerly brushed his thumb over your bruised knuckles.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Are we lookin’ at the same thing?”

There was a faint teasing tone to his words, and as you lifted your gaze to meet his eyes, you realized it was because he had repeated your own back to you. You were suddenly brought back to the night at the bar when you had been in this exact same scenario with Frank, only now the roles were reversed. Now he was the one patching up your hand.

A smile bloomed across your lips like the first delicate bud in spring knowing that he remembered that. Frank always remembered the little things.

“Alright, fine. It’s bad.”

Frank turned your hand over carefully, swabbing at the dried blood around your stitches with an alcohol wipe which caused you to hiss from the sting, and elicited a quiet apology from him. To both of your surprise, you hadn’t ripped open your stitches. Frank applied some antibiotic cream to your stitches and gently placed the ice pack over your swollen knuckles, the icy chill instantly offering a little bit of relief to the throbbing under your angry and taut skin.

But it was the way that Frank tenderly held your wrist with his other free hand as he held the ice pack to your bruised knuckles that a heated shiver tumbling down your back. 

“Be sore for a few days, but it ain’t broken.”

Frank lifted his head to look at you, his eyes faintly narrowed as he cocked his head to the side and studied you curiously.

“I thought you said you ain’t ever hit anyone before?”

A look of sheer puzzlement blanketed your own features while looking back at Frank, unsure of the implications behind his question.

“I haven’t.”

Frank’s thick brows lifted up his forehead a few centimeters in surprise as his deep brown eyes wandered over you, a soft chuckle leaving him as he shook his head slowly and looked back down at your hand.

“Coulda fooled me. Hell of a fuckin’ hit for your first try.”

His voice was dripping with pride, and that coupled with the tiny grin on his lips filled you with a giddiness that made the pain in your hand almost disappear. 

But all at once, that giddiness disappeared when a chilling revelation washed over you like a bucket of unforgiving ice water.

The Defenders of Freedom had been caught. Steven was going to stand trial, and eventually be sent to prison.

And there wasn’t a reason for Frank to be your bodyguard anymore.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

*if your tag is not working, or you changed your username, please let me know! also if you’re tagged in the comments, it’s bc I can only do 50 mentions on the actual post!

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher series

[rebelfell]

Currently being plagued by thoughts of an older!fem!Harrington!reader... 18+, MDNI 1.4k

Like you’re Steve's aunt, late 30s/early 40s.

And you have always been kind of a fuck-up compared to your "perfect" older sister who got the good grades and who every guy in school had a crush on; who married the rich, handsome dude and popped out a kid and lives in this big house in this picture-perfect suburban neighborhood.

And you tried to do all that, too—really, you did. But your husband ex turned out to be an asshole, and he's got a really good lawyer so he's probably gonna get the house in the divorce.

So you move into your sister's for the summer because they're gonna be in Europe and they’d prefer someone be there to keep an eye on Steve, who's home from college and tends to get a little out of control when he's left unsupervised...

And one day you’re woken up from a nap by the loud, relentless grinding of a lawnmower and look out your window to see the gardener.

He's young. Maybe Steve's age if not a touch older. And he is just…stunning. So Beautiful that it’s hard to look at him, but in your current state, looking at him is about all you can do.

Alabaster skin decorated with black ink, dark curls tied up in a bun to keep them off his sticky neck. Threadbare tank top clinging to his slender frame he's so drenched with sweat from the heat. Arm and leg muscles flexing, glinting with it.

Then suddenly he stops, and his eyes drift to the upstairs window to lock onto yours. You freeze in place, wondering if he can even see you, and just when you’ve convinced yourself he can't...a smile curls across his lips and he raises his hand to wiggle his fingers at you in a wave.

Panic makes you seize and fling away from the window, knocking into your dresser and sending your make-up rolling over the top. And it only hits you now, far too late, that you were just staring at this guy wearing nothing but sleep shorts and a camisole. One that did absolutely nothing to conceal how hard your nipples were.

Jesus Christ—what were you thinking? Staring at this guy like some horned-up teenager?

What is wrong with you?

You yank the curtains closed and hide in your room until you're certain he's gone. And when Steve gets home from work, your hair is still wet from the cold shower you had to take when you couldn't stop imagining what it would be like if instead of mowing the lawn, that guy had come running upstairs to trim your hedges.

Seriously...what the fuck is wrong with you?

Then, a couple days later, the heat spikes to a truly oppressive degree. So you’ve got your suit on, and you’re dancing in the kitchen, stirring up something cool and sweet to sip by the pool, crushing fresh mint to add into the pitcher.

And you hear a splash. A big one.

Your head whips around to look out the window just in time to see that familiar head of dark curls bursting through the surface. He swings his head wildly like a dog, flipping his long hair out of his face before he dunks himself back under.

It's not panic that stops you in your tracks this time, but rage. Because what in the hell is the gardener doing swimming in your sister's pool?

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

Your voice is commanding as you storm out onto the pool deck, but your cover-up isn't tied around your waist so it flies open behind you to reveal the shape of your body. And you can’t quite squash the prickle of shame you feel at the thought of this guy seeing all your cellulite up close.

He turns toward you, awfully smiley for someone who just got caught trespassing. And his eyes are bright as he looks you up and down, the rays of sun hitting them just right so his deep brown irises glow like the richest honey.

Nope, nope. You're not gonna be flustered this time. You're not, you're not, you're not—

"Just waiting for you, sweetheart,” he says.

His voice is too smooth for his own good, words dripping from his lips the way water drips from his bangs and runs down his handsome features.

You roll your eyes and feel your hands settle on cocked hips. It's a stance you often find yourself in, wishing it was more intimidating. An inherited trait, you guess, considering how your nephew would stand the exact same way sometimes.

"Since when does the gardener get swimming privileges?" you scoff, eyes narrowing.

He just glances around at the freshly mown lawn, grass looking lush despite the sweltering heat.

"Didn't I do a good job? Don't I deserve a reward?"

The sun beating down overhead would be easy to blame for the way your body gets hot all over just from the way he says it, his brow arching to drive home his meaning, as if you couldn't tell.

"Take that up with your boss when she's back on this side of the Atlantic. For now, you can take a hike before I call the cops.”

A plush pink lip juts out in an exaggerated pout, but he shrugs his shoulders in an admission of defeat. He plants his palms flat on the concrete, forgoing the ladder and the steps to lift himself out of the pool to stand directly in front of you.

Water spills off his pale shoulders, rivulets of it running down the planes of his back and body you have to purposefully tear your eyes away from. He's not even in a bathing suit, just the same pair of shredded black jeans cut off into shorts he mowed the lawn in just days prior.

He's still smirking as he takes one last, long look before he saunters away. And in spite of yourself, you glance over your shoulder to watch him as he goes, your eyes drawn to a tattoo of a broadsword that starts between his shoulders and runs down the full length of his spine, the tip of the blade ending just above the small of his back.

He pauses at the gate, smiling all sly when his eyes shoot back to you, clearly pleased to have caught you ogling him again—and fucking winks.

And he does leave, but now you’re all frustrated and flustered and too pent up to even attempt at relaxing now. So you give up on your swim and go to the store instead, the trip taking far longer than it should because you don't—or can't—stop yourself from thinking about this guy.

You’re certain he has to be messing with you. What else besides an ego boost would a young guy like him get out of flirting with someone like you? A divorcee a decade older than him? Please. He probably had his pick of the litter in a town as small as Hawkins. All dark and wild, mysterious and dangerous and…

God—why did he have to be so hot? It would be so much easier to ignore him if he weren't.

You finally get back home, cranky and tired and struggling under the weight of all your groceries. And when you push open the door and step into the foyer, you freeze in place again.

Because there he is. Splayed out on the couch, his knees spread wide, his long hair a little damp. Smiling at you all pleased with himself, like he’s been waiting for you. Cocky, even.

Like he planned it this way.

It all makes you gape, your mouth hanging open in total disbelief as you drop your bag at the door and draw your breath to snap at him.

"What are you—"

"Hey, you're home!"

Steve cuts you off as he strides into the living room, coming from the kitchen holding a couple of beers. He passes one to the guy on the couch, who's grinning like he ate a whole menagerie of canaries, and Steve nods in your direction.

"This is my aunt I was telling you about."

Those dark brown eyes rove freely over you now, no light shining in them this time as he smiles into the mouth of the bottle he's raising to his lips.

"Hey, there," he says, wiggling those long fingers at you all over again. "I'm Eddie."

next

#welp #I couldn’t sleep and now this exists #so that’s how things are going #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfiction #TSITA

[katsu28]

changed the game

pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

summary: steve would do anything for you, but he would never tell anyone why—until today

(i suck at writing summaries but it’s basically just 4.8k words of best friends to lovers with the best soccer mom ever!) 

warnings: swearing, steve being adorable, slight violence but it’s only like one slap, fluff central

a/n: i really am a sucker for the best friends to lovers trope. enjoy!! <3

masterlist + taglist

(gif found on google, credits to owner)

You burst through the doors of Family Video, looking around the store frantically for the one person you needed to find until you finally spotted him reshelving movies in the corner. He (surprisingly) didn’t see you coming, so when you popped into his line of sight, he jumped.

“Jesus Christ!” Steve yelped, all the tapes in his arms clattering to the floor. 

“Sorry,” You offered him a guilty smile, kneeling down to help him pick everything up. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“Uh, no, you’re—you’re all good. I was spaced the hell out.” Steve mumbled. “What’s up?”

“You’re going to Lucas’ game tonight, right?”

“Yeah, of course. Why?” 

“Would it be okay if the boys and I hitched a ride?” You asked sheepishly. “I promised I’d drive them, but my sister called dibs on the car for her stupid date, and I—” 

“Yeah, sure! No problem.” His response was immediate (and a bit squeaky too), head nodding so fast that his hair fell into his eyes. “I can pick you up at six, swing around and grab them on the way?”

“That sounds perfect! Thank you so much, Steve, you’re a lifesaver!” You beamed at him, passing off the rest of the fallen tapes into his arms and pulling him into a quick hug. He barely had time to react before you backed away, but your perfume lingered in his space. “I gotta get to work, but thank you again. I’ll see you tonight.” 

Steve managed a weak wave goodbye before watching you retreat out the doors, mind still processing your conversation. 

“Alright, I’ll shoot. When are you gonna tell her?” Robin’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked over to see her leaning against the front counter with her chin propped up in her hand and a shit eating grin on her face. 

“Tell her what?” He snorted, shoving the rest of the movies back on their respective shelves. Robin aimed a rather pointed look at him. “Seriously, what?” 

“Oh, you’re serious?” She raised an eyebrow. When all Steve did was give her a dumb look, she sighed. “When are you gonna tell Y/N that you’re in love with her?” 

Steve froze in his tracks, gaze whipping over to her incredulously. “What?” 

“You heard me, dingus.” 

“You’re insane.” 

“Steve, you were literally just telling me yesterday about your date with Brenda tonight, and you just agreed to play soccer mom carting around a bunch of your kid friends, all because Y/N batted her eyes and said pretty please?” 

“We’re friends, Robin. That’s what friends do.” He replied with a shrug, but even that seemed forced. “Besides, I can just call Brenda and reschedule, no big deal. She’ll understand.” 

“I’m your friend too, and you wouldn’t even give me a ride home from school after band practice last week!” 

“That was different!” 

“Yeah, you’re not completely head over heels for me!” 

“Y’know what?” Steve huffed, grabbing the movie cart and pushing it away from Robin. “I have work to do. I don’t need this.” 

“Right, because you’re so hard at work reshelving tapes!” Robin called after him, to which he flipped her off behind his back.

Once Steve finished reshelving all the rewound tapes, he glanced back over at the counter to see if Robin was still behind it, and when he saw that she was helping an old lady in the far corner of the store, he hurried over to the phone, digging the scrap of paper that Brenda had given him out of his pocket and dialing her number. He drummed his fingers on the counter as it rang, trying to come up with a way to bail on their date at the last minute without seeming like a jackass. 

“Hello?” Brenda’s sickly sweet voice poured through the receiver, and Steve cringed. 

“Hey, Brenda, it’s Steve. Harrington.” He said weakly, twirling a pen between his fingers. 

“Steve, hi!” She sounded happy to hear from him. “I’m looking forward to our date tonight!” 

“Yeah! Um, about that…I hate to do this so last minute, but I just came down with the nastiest case of food poisoning, and I think we’re probably gonna have to take a raincheck on our date.” 

“Oh no, you poor baby!” Brenda cooed. “Of course we can reschedule, no problem! Whenever you’re feeling better, just give me a call.” 

“Thank you so much, Brenda, you’re a real saint!”

“Maybe I’ll swing by your place and bring you some soup?” 

“No!” Steve blurted, then let out a forced chuckle. “No, I mean, I think food poisoning is contagious, and I’d be so bummed if you came by and I gave it to you.” 

Brenda giggled, and he could just picture her twirling her permed blond hair around her finger like she always did around him. “You’re so thoughtful, Steve.” 

“That, I am.” He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. “I, um, I’ve gotta go…y’know—I’ll just call you sometime, yeah?” 

“Feel better soon!” 

Steve mumbled out a ‘thank you’ before hanging up, ignoring the guilt pooling in his stomach and instead focusing on how happy you’d looked when he said he could give you and the boys a ride. 

“Does your ass ever get tired of all the shit that comes out of your mouth?” Robin asked innocently, pulling him out of his thoughts. Steve just flipped her off again on his way to the back room, where he collapsed into one of the flimsy plastic chairs with a heavy sigh. 

Robin was right, he was head over heels for you (but she didn’t need to know that). After Nancy, Steve didn’t think he’d ever be able to connect with anyone ever again. But then you came along with your bright smile and witty comebacks and how much you cared about your friends, and he fell hard and he fell fast. You’d ruined him for anyone else, in the best possible way. 

He’d been going on all these dates with different people, trying to find one person who he thought he could be happy with for once, but with every date he went on, his heart wasn’t in it. 

You had Steve Harrington wrapped around your finger, and you didn’t even know it. 

He’d do anything for you, so canceling a date that he didn’t even really want to go on was the least of his worries. Steve just hoped it didn’t end up backfiring on him in the future, because that would definitely not be a good look for him. 

-------

“You’re baking. You hate baking, why are you baking?” Your older sister, Callie, furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as soon as she walked into the kitchen, eyeing the mess of baking supplies on the counter with you in the middle of it all. 

You blew a stray piece of hair out of your face, hands too covered in sticky dough to touch anything else. “Cookies for Steve.” 

“Cookies for Steve,” She repeated, nodding slowly. “Why?” 

“Since someone,” You aimed a pointed look at her, “is taking the car tonight, he’s driving the boys and I to Lucas’ game.” 

“Is he now?” She hummed, smirking. 

See, what you didn't know was that Callie was friends with Brenda, the very same Brenda who was supposed to be going on a date with Steve tonight. Also the very same Brenda that had just called her sadly about Steve having food poisoning and canceling said date. Now hearing that he’d bailed on her to help you out, everything she’d been picking up on between you and Steve finally made sense. 

The way Steve always hung onto your every word, gazing stupidly at you when you weren’t looking. Every single time he’d gotten you something just because he thought you’d like it. How he’d show up at your house and watch god awful movies with you, and she could hear both your snorting laughters all throughout the night. 

And now this: Steve making up a bogus excuse to get out of a date all because you’d asked him for a favor. 

There was no mistaking it—Steve Harrington was in love with you. 

And you definitely felt the same way about him, because here you were, baking cookies for him like you were Betty Crocker despite your outspoken hatred for it. 

“So what’s the deal between you and Steve anyways?” Callie asked nonchalantly, reaching across the counter to snag a handful of chocolate chips and popping them in her mouth. 

“What deal?” You pulled open the oven to put the cookies inside to bake, setting a timer for ten minutes before turning back to her with furrowed brows to see that she was looking pointedly at you. “There is no deal with me and Steve, Cal, we’re friends. Friends help each other out.”  

“Right,” She dragged out the word amusedly, like she didn’t believe a word you were saying. “So you don’t like him? Like, like him like him?” 

“Me, like Steve?” You forced out a laugh, shaking your head. She nodded. “No, I don’t like him. Why are you asking?” 

“Oh, no reason.” 

“Weirdo.” 

“Says the one covered in flour,” Callie shot back, wrinkling her nose at you. “Don’t you have to go get ready or something?” 

One glance at the clock above the sink had you swearing like a sailor, because you now had less than an hour to clean up your mess, shower, get dressed, and let the cookies cool before Steve picked you up. 

“Can you help me clean up?” You yelped, scrambling out of your dusty apron and chucking it at Callie frantically, who dodged it with an indignant noise. 

“No, it’s your mess, you clean it!” 

You were already hurrying down the hall to your bedroom, but you managed to catch yourself on the doorway as you yelled back at her. “I’ll take your laundry duty for the next three weeks!” 

“Five!” 

“Deal!”

-------

Steve watched you leap down the steps outside your front door, smiling as you waved wildly at him on your way to his car. 

“Hi, Steve!” You chirped, sliding into the passenger seat smoothly. He nodded in acknowledgement, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel casually. “Thanks again for giving us a ride, I hope I didn’t crash any plans you might’ve had.” 

“Nah, no plans. And you don’t need to keep thanking me, I’m happy to help out,” He chuckled, pushing down the nagging feeling in his gut and pulling away from the curb smoothly. “Whatcha got there?”

You cracked open the plastic container on your lap with a sheepish smile. “Cookies. Made them as a thank you, but—” 

“Oh no, I’ll take that thank you,” He said quickly, opening his mouth without taking his eyes off the road. “Gimme one!” 

Popping a cookie into his mouth with a chuckle, you wiped your fingers on the collar of his jacket, listening to him groan about how this was his favorite one and how you’d ruined it. All you did was roll your eyes playfully, cranking up the radio to drown him out, but Steve switched gears right away, singing along horribly to every song that played—especially if he didn’t know the words. 

You couldn’t help but admire him from your side of the car, your eyes taking in every slope, curve, and contour of his face. From the sharp angle of his jaw to the curve of his pink lips; the scattering of freckles across his cheeks to the lines on his face that morphed into the cutest dimples whenever he smiled—in your eyes, everything about Steve Harrington was perfect. 

Sure, he could be a little dumb sometimes, but that was another one of the things you loved about him. 

And you did admit, the whole falling-for-your-best-friend thing wasn’t your smartest move, especially since that best friend was Steve freaking Harrington, who went on dates with different girls practically every other night and had a reputation for being quite the ladies’ man. You liked to think that he’d mellowed out since his King Steve days, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t have Hawkins girls lined up out the door to get their share of him. 

You didn’t really have any right to feel the jealousy that you did every time Steve talked about how he went roller skating with Stacy from junior year trig, or went out for milkshakes with Carla from the girls’ volleyball team, but you couldn’t help it. Steve was out of your league, and there was nothing you could (or would) do about it. 

“Hey, you okay?” Steve’s voice drew you out of your thoughts, and you saw that he was looking over at you in slight concern. When he saw you refocus, he smiled softly. “There she is. I was starting to wonder if I’d have to steal another cookie myself.” 

“I, um, I’m good. I was just…thinking.” You mumbled, embarrassed at the thought of being caught thinking about Steve by Steve. 

“Thinking, huh? Care to share?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You teased, eyes glinting with amusement. 

“I would, actually. Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that mind of yours.” 

“Maybe another time, Harrington.” You giggled, offering out another cookie as a consolation prize that Steve plucked right out of your fingertips. The car slowed to a stop outside of Dustin’s house, where the curly haired boy was already waiting outside impatiently, brows furrowed in confusion at the sight of Steve’s car but hopping in nonetheless. “Hey, Dustin! Sorry we’re late.” 

“It’s fine, the game doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes,” He assured you, then turned right to Steve. “But what are you doing here? I thought you were going—” 

“We should really get going if we wanna pick up the rest of the gang and get to the game on time!” Steve interrupted forcibly, shooting Dustin a very pointed look in the rearview mirror. 

“But—” 

“All buckled in, Henderson?” Dustin nodded slowly. “Alright, time to go!” 

Without further ado, Steve pulled away from the curb, cranking the radio back up and leaving Dustin (and now you) confused.

The atmosphere of the car ride to pick up Mike and Will, then to the high school, was awkward to say the least. The boys were in the back whispering about something you couldn’t make out and glancing at you and Steve in the front seat, while Steve was significantly less chatty with you than he was before Dustin got into the car. As soon as the car was parked, the younger boys filed out of the backseat, barely nodding at Steve’s promise to meet back here after the game was over in case anyone got separated before hurrying off towards the gym. 

“I’m gonna say it because nobody else will, but what is wrong with those kids?” You asked incredulously, wrinkling your nose at how weird they were acting. 

Steve just chuckled nervously, falling into step with you as you made your way slowly to the gym as well. “I ask myself that everyday.” 

You noticed how Steve didn’t answer your question, but decided not to push in fear of making things more awkward than they already were now. The two of you made your way into the school in silence, passing off your tickets and finding an empty space midway up the wooden bleachers, an aisle away from the band. You caught Robin’s eye and waved at her excitedly, nudging Steve with your elbow for him to say hi too. He waved, purposely ignoring her smug gaze by focusing out on the cheerleading squad. 

“Has Robin made her move on Vickie yet?” Your voice was soft in Steve’s ear, but still made his breath catch in his chest at the fact that you were basically leaning against him to be heard in the loud gym. 

“She, uh—no, she hasn’t. Not that I know of.” He stuttered, gulping nervously. 

“I think they’d be good together.” 

“I keep telling her that, but she keeps pushing back,” Steve shrugged. “You should talk some sense into her.” 

You smiled at him, patting his shoulder. “I think I will. Maybe I’ll swing by Family Video tomorrow.” 

Right as Steve was about to respond, a shrill whistle from the referee signaled the start of the game, not leaving much room to discuss Plan Robin-gets-the-girl. 

You couldn’t help but touch Steve every time something big happened during the game, whether it was latching your arm around his during a particularly risky play, elbowing him playfully when he made a sarcastic remark about the players, or much to Steve’s dismay, smacking his shoulder roughly every time Lucas touched the ball, as if Steve wasn’t watching the exact same game you were. 

The final play of the game was by far the best, when Lucas hit a buzzer beating three to bring it all home, and you nearly knocked Steve over hugging him in excitement. He wrapped his arms around your waist, reciprocating your hug and taking it one step further by lifting you up off your feet for a few seconds. Your nose nudged against his hammering pulse point at that, which you just chalked up to the adrenaline of the game and not what it actually was—you throwing yourself into Steve’s arms without a care in the world. It made Steve’s heart hammer in his chest, so much so that he was still thinking about it as the crowd was filing out of the gym, the cool air doing wonders to sooth his flushed cheeks. 

You nudged his shoulder gently, shaking him out of his head. “So, what do you think? Think we got a shot at winning the championships this year?” 

“I’d say yeah, so long as Coach takes Sinclair off the bench and puts him in action.” 

“I bet you could put in a good word for him, King Steve,” You teased, letting out a shriek of laughter and dodging Steve’s hands when he lunged towards you in retaliation. 

“Get the hell back here, you little—” 

“Steve!” 

Steve stopped in his tracks at the sickeningly familiar, once sweet, now turned very, very angry, voice that rang out from behind him, sending his heart that was just swelling with happiness plummeting into his stomach. Squeezing his eyes shut, he turned around slowly to see none other than Brenda standing behind him, arms crossed over her chest and eyes glaring right at him whilst she snapped the pink bubble gum forcefully between her teeth. 

“Hey—hey, Brenda!” He cleared his throat awkwardly in a sad attempt to keep his voice steady. 

Shit, she looked mad. 

“That food poisoning really cleared up fast, didn’t it?” She deadpanned, and if her gaze were lasers, they’d be boring a hole right through his head right now. 

“Yeah, uh—about that, I’m really sorry,” Steve mumbled, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s not you, it’s me.” 

“Seriously? That’s the line you’re gonna use?” Brenda scoffed, rolling her eyes. “If you didn’t want to go out with me, you should’ve just said so instead of making up some bullshit excuse!” 

“I didn’t mean to, I just—it came out! I’m sorry, okay?” He blurted, realizing a split second after that he’d definitely just made things a whole lot worse. She looked about ready to rip his face off as she stalked towards him angrily. 

“It just came out???” She shrieked, eyes blazing with fury. “You’re an asshole and a coward, Steve, you know that?” 

“A coward?” He arched an eyebrow. Asshole, yeah, he could admit that much. But coward? That one threw him for a loop.

“You heard me.” 

“How am I—y’know what, I don’t even think I wanna know,” He shook his head, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, Brenda. Truly, I really am. It was wrong of me to lie, and I apologize.” 

“Fuck you, Steve.” She snarled. Steve saw her hand go up, but he didn’t even register that she’d slapped him until a burning pain took over the entire left side of his face. Even then, he could only stand there in stunned silence as he watched her storm away from him.

Meanwhile, you were watching the whole thing from a few feet away, going through a myriad of emotions at their interaction and ending wide eyed in shock at the sight of Brenda slapping Steve clean across the face. 

“What the hell just happened?” You nearly collided with him as you rushed forward, your fingers instantly angling his chin towards you to assess the damage. An angry red hand imprint was already beginning to blossom across his cheek. 

He squinted with a scrunched nose, feeling his face grow hot in embarrassment. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.” 

“Steve, she just bitch slapped you across the face, that’s not nothing,” You pressed, dropping your hands to prop on your hips with a frown aimed up at him. “What was she talking about?”  

Steve blew out a heaving breath, backing up a few paces. Everything was blowing up in his face right now. “I lied earlier. I did have plans tonight. I was, uh, I was supposed to be coming to the game with Brenda…on a date.” 

“Steve, really?” You gasped, bringing your hands up to cover your mouth. “Oh, this is all my fault, I shouldn’t have—” 

“No! No, Y/N, this isn’t your fault. It’s mine, I should’ve said something.” He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “This is on me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had plans? I would’ve figured something else out.” 

Steve had two options. He could either use the same line about wanting to be a good friend that he used to justify his choice to Robin earlier, or he could man up and come clean, actually tell you why he dropped plans for you. Finally confess that he was in love with you. 

But the way you were looking at him, all confused and guilty and so beautifully conflicted at the same time, he couldn’t lie to you anymore. 

“I need to tell you something,” He blurted, getting the ball rolling so he wouldn’t chicken out. You tilted your head at him curiously, your expression inviting him to get what he needed to off his chest. Steve inhaled a sharp breath first, steeling his nerves. “The reason why I lied about my date, it’s—it’s the same reason why I keep going on so many dates.” 

“I’m not following…” 

“I go out on all these dates with all these different girls to distract me from the fact that there’s one girl who owns my heart. One girl that has me so wrapped around her finger that I’d do anything for her, no matter how big or small.”

“Steve,” You said softly, your breath hitching in your chest at the way he was stepping closer to you with every word with the most serious and the most nervous look you’d ever seen grace his face. “What are you saying?” 

“I’m in love with you, Y/N, so goddamn much that it hurts. I’ve been in love with you for…god, I don’t even know how long now,” Steve was nearly nose to nose with you now, taking your hand and placing it on his chest, right above his jackhammering heart. He didn’t care how many people were watching right now; he was on a roll and there was no way he was going to stop himself. Steve didn’t think he could even if he tried. “This heart is yours, Y/N L/N. It always has been, and it always will be.” 

You didn’t even realize there were tears rolling down your cheeks until the rough pads of Steve’s thumbs swiped under your eyes gently. “You’re crying. You’re—shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Then he was backing away quickly, hands trembling in uncertainty at your reaction to his confession, because shit, out of all the times he’d imagined this whole thing going down, not once did he expect you to start crying. 

It was damn near impossible for you to find the words to convey the knot of feelings pooling in your gut, so you did the next best thing that you could think of to make Steve understand that you loved him too. You surged forward before he could back off completely, body crashing against his and arms winding around his neck, and you kissed him. Hard. Lovingly, but yeah, still hard. 

Steve froze again for what seemed like the hundredth time today, his brain short-circuiting at what was happening at this very moment. You. Him. You were kissing him. In the middle of the parking lot. For pretty much all of Hawkins to see. 

Holy shit. 

You were kissing him.  

Kissing you was better than Steve had ever imagined—and he’d imagined it a lot. You tasted heavenly sweet, like the strawberry chapstick you always wore and the chocolate from the cookies you’d eaten earlier, and it made him weak in the knees. His hands were traveling up and down your back, resting at your waist, pulling you closer, moving like he didn't know what to do with them but didn't want to let you get away. Yours, on the other hand, stayed firmly planted in his hair, which—despite all the products that you'd always seen strewn across his bathroom counter at home—was surprisingly soft to the touch. 

It wasn’t until you heard a series of wolf whistles from passing students that you remembered you were in the middle of the parking lot, kissing Steve right out there in the open for everyone to see. And it was that thought that had you pulling away from his addicting lips, pressing your forehead against his as you tried to catch your breath after the kiss had pulled it out of both your chests. 

The world felt like it was spinning when you pulled away from him, like you’d just gotten drunk off his kiss, and you missed it already. 

“Whoa,” He panted, chest heaving. “What was—you…what was that?” 

You gnawed on your lower lip in contemplation, pondering how to word this in the best way. “In the car earlier, you said you wanted to know what I was thinking about.” 

“I remember.” 

“I was thinking about you.” 

“Me?” His voice was soft, honey brown eyes lighting up at your words. 

“Yeah, you. And how I’m in love with you too.” 

“You are?” 

“I love you, Steve Harrington.” 

Steve couldn’t help the dopey grin that stretched across his face at your words. “That—wow, that feels really good. Just hearing you say it.” He chuckled breathlessly, thumbing at your waist. “Can I kiss you again? Please?” 

“You can kiss me whenever you want.” 

“God, that’s even better.” 

He leaned in to kiss you again and you gladly reciprocated, subconsciously bringing your hand up to cup his face as he dipped you down slowly. As soon as your palm came in soft contact with his cheek, however, Steve hissed. “Ow, shit—” 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” You yelped, pulling away from him in a panic. “I forgot!” 

“No, it was worth it,” He groaned, wincing slightly as your fingers ghosted across the handprint across his cheek once more. “So worth it.” 

“We should probably get some ice on that.” You chuckled, lacing your fingers through his and tugging him towards the car, where Dustin and the rest of the boys were all waiting with crossed arms and smug ass smiles. 

“About high time you guys figured it out!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air exasperatedly. “God, I thought I was gonna have to confess for you, Steve.” 

“Shut it, Henderson,” Steve rolled his eyes, but was still smiling nonetheless whilst snaking his arm around your waist. “Get your asses in the car, I’m taking everyone home now.” 

“Why, so you can spend more time sucking face with your girlfriend?” teased Lucas, mimicking kissing the air childishly. 

“I’ll make you walk, Sinclair!” Lucas pushed past Will into the backseat without another word. “That’s what I thought.”

The rest of the boys were quick to follow, none of them wanting to make the trek all the way home in the dark. You just shook your head amusedly, climbing into the passenger seat. Steve immediately took your hand as soon as he slid into the driver’s seat, resting it on the gearshift with his on top, but not before pressing a kiss to your knuckles. And when you beamed at him lovingly, he couldn’t help it. He leaned over the center console, capturing your lips in a soft kiss without giving two shits about the noises of disgust and retching coming from the boys in the backseat at his lovesick actions. 

Because, in a twist of fate that somehow worked in his favor, Steve got the girl. He finally got you, the girl he’d always wanted but never in a million years thought he’d ever be so lucky to call his. The girl that changed the game for him. 

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things netflix #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #joe keery

[yumiis]

hiiii i was wondering if u could do a tanner x reader , where the reader was also a streamer !!

also also ive read some of ur work and shared it w my friends :) !!

thank you ₊˚⊹♡

sure thing lovebug! and omg, really!! that means so much to me, thank you for sharing my works <3

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。 AND WE'RE LIVE ; TANNER

　 ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

genre; fluff/humor

type; blurb

read below!

Tanner was never one to introduce himself when he came in your room. Sure, he knocked on everyone else's doors, but not yours. He didn't think that mattered a whole lot. He obviously knows you're a streamer, but normally you'd text him when you start streaming or when you're about to start. That's just a precaution you guys take so no one comes bursting into anyone's streams unannounced.

You pull your phone out your pocket, pulling up your messages and pressing Tanner's contact.

'hey, abt to start streaming'

'ok loser'

That's normally how the interaction went, and then all was well. He wouldn't burst in, you wouldn't leave your chat unannounced, etc. This time though, Tanner had other plans. He booted up his stream, and quickly went live.

"Look, guys, hello, yes, yeah, yeah hi! Keep it down wouldja? I'm about to go scare the shit out of Y/n. DO NOT go in their chat and tell them." He left a pinned message in his chat saying what he was doing and where he was going, praying to whatever god there is that you didn't get his stream notification.

Of course, you weren't paying attention to your phone, you were pretty focused on playing Lethal Company. Slowly, Tanner started creeping in your door. He puts a finger over his lips to signal your chat to keep their mouths shut.

Tanner slowly crept up behind you, and then when the moment was right, he struck. He grabbed your shoulders, almost viciously shaking you back and forth and screaming near your ears. Him shaking you so much caused your headset to drop down, so his screaming was very, very loud.

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" You screamed out, quickly jumping out of your seat and putting your fists up, ready to fight him. "TANNER!" He almost cried from laughing so damn hard. He got you good, and he knows he did. "YOU SHOULD'VE SEEN YOUR FACE! Chat! Chat! Clip that!" You whipped your head around, "Do NOT CLIP THAT."

Tanner laughed a bit more, but after his laughing fit, he placed a soft kiss on your hairline and pat your back. "Alright, alright! I'll leave you alone now. Bye, honey!"

"Bye, asshole." You kept quiet for a minute, your eyes scanning over chat. "... Hey, chat. There's a new poll, should I break up with Tanner?"

Tanner shows up in chat, 'RIGGED RIGGED RIGGED THIS SHIT IS RIGGED'

#alex's writing #tgc #the group chat #big t #tanner #bigtstreamingservice #tgc x y/n #tgc x you #tgc x reader #the group chat x y/n #the group chat x you #the group chat x reader #big t x y/n #big t x you #big t x reader #tanner x y/n #tanner x you #tanner x reader

[swampstew]

KIᒪᒪEᖇᑕOOK - ᑕᕼᗩᑭTEᖇ 9

Welcome to Raven’s Reading Nook - a small corner of this blog dedicated to cozy story times. Join us in the family room as we sit around and browse our phones, and eat some Girl Scout cookies as we begin tonight’s story. Rated Mature for language. Minors DNI

*Phone app notification goes bing bong*

TikTok – KillerCook has uploaded a new video. Check out their page and make sure you turn on notification so you don’t miss any content!

Title: Countless Cupcakes Description: It’s Heat’s birthday! Enjoy this compilation video of us smashing cupcakes in his face. 4 minute, 30 second video. The thumbnail is Heat’s face, covered with a healthy amount of colorful frosting, someone made a smiley face over where his lips would be, his eyes are blazing red.

*Press Play*

“Hello everyone! KillerCook here with some exciting news – one of my best buddies, FlamingHot420, is celebrating his {redacted} years on this planet. So how else can we show him we love him? By smashing cupcakes in his face when he least expects it. Everyone on the crew made a different flavor, some might be boozy, some might have a surprise inside, and some might be edibles. Let’s see how fucked up we can get him! Make sure you wish him a happy birthday in the comments – and only happy birthday – OR ELSE!” Killer’s finger wagged at the camera before he picked up a cupcake. It was wrapped in a metallic blue foil, topped with blue frosting and vertical white chocolate stripes.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY FUCKER!!” the blonde suddenly screamed as he threw his cupcake across the room. The camera panned to follow the baked confection’s trajectory. Flying through the air until it splattered hilariously into the tall, blue haired cutie. His suit and tie t-shirt was immediately covered as frosting dripped from Heat’s face.

With closed eyes, Heat poked his tongue out and licked the ruined treat hanging off his lip. “Hmmm, blueberry with toasted coconut? Damn that’s RICH. What’s the aftertaste I’m getting, white chocolate?”

“You’re not wrong,” Killer mused, pulling a long spoon from the hole in his helmet, licking up frosting from the bowl. “The white chocolate was to mask the weed taste. I forgot how many grams I put in it.”

“Jesus Christ Killer.”

“I’m lying,” Killer whispered to the camera when it panned back to his face. “I know exactly how much I put in it.”

Kid burst into the background wearing several pointed party hats on his head that resembled a spiky bike helmet, bulky stereo perched on his shoulder that was on but not playing anything.

“KID PIRATES – ASSEMBLE!!!!!!!!”

Before Heat could move, more of the crew began filtering into the kitchen space, each one holding a different cupcake in hand, all wearing party hats and mischievous smirks on their faces.

“Ah shit,” Heat’s shoulders slumped, “You’re really gonna make me run on my birthday?”

“Only if you don’t want to get {redacted} {redacted} to {redacted} and {redacted} gang-bang style,” Kid roared with laughter as his own comment.

“KID YOU CAN’T SAY THAT ON CAMERA!” Killer whipped a spatula full of blue frosting at the Captain.

The redhead dodged the creamy frosting and pressed play on the stereo, blaring a popular birthday rap song that made the speakers boom.

“ATTACK!” The redhead grabbed the second cupcake Wire held in his hand, smushing it into Heat’s gaping jaw. The piped red frosting smeared over Heat’s lips, the cake itself crumbling and squeezing through Kid’s hand as he crushed it for maximum mess.

Heat jumped back for space, pushing aside Killer and Jaguar as he raced for the door to the yard, half choking and half going mmmmmmm at the flavor.

“Was that real Fireball whiskey?!” Heat hoarsely cried out as he stumbled through the threshold.

“YOU BETCH’Y’RE ASS IT IS!”

“You guys are gonna kill me!”

With the same rap song laid over the rest of video, the remaining minutes were a compilation of short clips of each member of the crew smashing their cupcake wherever they could reach on the tattooed bluette. Heat would eat whatever remains he could gobble up and call out the flavors as the camera chased behind him, the rest of the crew coming in and out view as they creatively tried to dive bomb and trip the birthday boy so they could throw cake in his face.

“Chocolate Peppermint!”

“Matcha and Cinnamon!”

“Purple…velvet? You can make red velvet purple? Is there a blue velvet?!”

“Death by Chocolate!”

“Pistachio Rosebud? Didn’t expect that from you Pomp.”

“Pink Lemonade? Do I look like a bitch?”

“Margarita alright that’s more like it!”

“ICE CREAM IN THE MIDDLE! HOLY FUCK!”

“Plain vanilla? Really? Are you basic?”

“Caramel Latte? I feel fancy.”

“NO THE PRESENTATION EVEN LOOKS LIKE A MOSCOW MULE DON’T—”

“Carrot cake!”  

“Boston Crème! That is decadent!”

“Bro I love Cinnamon Toast Crunch!!”

“Mimosa? Is it bottomless? No really is there more?”

“CANNOLI?! Mama Mia…”

“You know I’m a sucker for Kahlua, Wire. Easy win you bastard.”

“Cheesecake center? Well damn!”

“DON’T YOU DARE THROW THAT PICKLE LOOKING CONCOCTION AT ME GIG I’LL FUCKING KILL—” *spews it out. *

“It looks like the Grinch. Is it the Grinch? Is that would the Grinch would taste like? He tastes like weed…ooohhhh.”

“Rumchata? Look at you, fancy as fuck, House.”

“Bro the cookie dough presentation, cookie dough frosting, and cookie dough cake flavor is fucking me up. Was that all cooked – none of it was raw right????”

“Is that real marshmallow fluff? Oh it’s s’mores I love that!”

“Is that supposed to be brains? Jesus Christ I don’t wan— oh! It’s raspberry!”

“CHURRO! BITCH I LOVE CHURROS!”

“…That crème brulee frosting looks sus…”

“Pumpkin Spice, hell yeah.”

“Lemon custard!”

“Caramelized Pear? Oh shit that’s divine!”

“Aw it’s my face!” – SPLAT – “Mmm, yes I do feel like if I was a cupcake flavor, I would be Guiness Chocolate. Exquisite.”

The video ends with a repeat of the chorus fading and a still frame of the Kid Pirates laying down on the floor looking drunk and covered in frosting and cake. Heat is in the center, completely passed out. As the video fades to black, KillerCook’s logo floats to the center before the video ends.

Read on Wattpad | Read on AO3

#killercook #massacre soldier killer #eustass kid #raven's reading nook #firstmatesimp #kid pirates #heat one piece #wire one piece #op kid pirates #kid pirate nakama #killer one piece #eustass captain kid #op killer #tiktok #modern AU #eustasscaptainkid #ao3 writer #wattpad author #swampstew #swampstew stories

[writingcold]

Hi there!  Welcome to Chapter Eight.  So, last chapter we got a peek at our Jacob and what’s under that storm that he seems to harbor.  This one starts off with action and violence, so be prepared.  The end is one of my most favorite interactions between Cora and Jacob.  There’s a lot that happens, so let’s get going. 

Sending love to @lvnterninthenight @gardensgatedaisy and @whitesuitjake for your help in this, you are all amazing.

This is a work of fiction, and is totally mine.  Please do not take it for your own personal use.  I’ve put in hours of research, hours upon hours of writing, re-writing, screaming, yelling and vomiting over this epic of a story.  But it is mine.

Contents Warning: 18+.  Heavy action.  Violence.  Blood.  But… there’s a nice little………..  smile with Jacob.

Word count: approx 9800

Chapter Eight: The Chase, Behind the Curtain, Courtship - Jacob POV

     “Jesus fucking Christ!”  Jake cursed, bouncing down the swell of the road.

     Porter was nearly bumper on bumper with him.  He could barely register Danny yelling at him over the volley of shots, with one actually hitting the metal of the Earl in a bone rattling strike.  Though panic bubbled in his belly, his hands were relaxed on the steering wheel, eye sharp on the road.

     “Move it, Jake!”  Danny burst out, gun in hand as he blindly shot out the window.

     There was a flat, straight stretch of road ahead of them.  Jake knew in his brain that the Earl could not win a foot race against Sheriff Porter’s new boiler.  It was going to come down to Sammy’s bag of tricks and his skill to get them out of the law’s clutches.

     Danny unloaded his rounds and was reaching for his spare when Jake hit the flat expanse.  His brain felt calm, laying out the steps necessary for escape.  One breath in.  Followed by a second.  Danny was returning fire until suddenly he whipped back inside.

     “A tommy, Jake!”  he shouted as a steady stream of bullets rained down on them.

     The rear window shattered, startling him.  The back end of the Earl swayed, threatening to tip as he tried to zigzag.  Porter’s driver was nearly running on top of them as another volley of shots struck the Earl.  They were both thrown forward as the lawman’s car slammed into the rear bumper, propelling them to skitter across the narrow road.  Swallowing down the bile in his throat, he knew he had to try Sam’s newest trick, even though it was untested.  He glanced down at the floorboards at the singular pedal on Danny’s side.  Sam had explicitly said not to use it.  Not until they could field test it properly.

      “Danny, hit the pedal - hard!”  Jake screamed as the Earl was slammed from behind once more.

     “Sam said-”

     “I don’t give a fuck!”  he shouted as they were pounded a third time, the crunch of metal screeching through the air.  “Do it now!”

     They were rapidly running out of straight road when Danny hit the pedal.  The driver’s side front and rear wheels locked and Jake yanked the wheel hard just as Sam had told him.  Instantly, they were spinning.  Jake kept his foot to the floor on the accelerator.  Despite the shocked faces, the fella with the tommy gun unleashed on the Earl as it sped in the other direction, spraying the passenger side in a barrage of death pills.  

     Jake let out a whoop as they flew back across the straight expanse of road.  It would give them perhaps a full minute worth of time before Porter’s driver could get his rig stopped and another half a minute to turn around.  He did not hesitate to use the advantage.  Two miles back, there had been a trail that he had used before to hide in the woods.

     Danny was watching the best he could when Jake got the Earl into position deep into the trees, far enough away from the trail to blend in with the shadows, close enough to watch for any signs of Porter’s car.  They were out and planted behind the cover of tree trunks.  Both men’s chests were heaving as they struggled for breath.

     “Damn, Jake,”  Danny whispered, gun pressed against his chest as he gulped for air.

     “They must’ve got fed money,”  Jake said, his eyes studying the damage to the front end of the Earl.  “No way Porter could afford anything new like that boiler and new machine guns.  What the fuck?”

      Danny leaned his frame against a tree with his chin pointed up to the thick canopy.  His friend’s frame quivered as the nerves were leaving him.  Jake closed his eyes, listening for anything that may indicate the sheriff’s vehicle.  He would make them wait at least an hour before moving again.

     Danny breathed out a slew of curses as he took in wounds on his thigh and arm where bullets had grazed him.  Jake had his own where one must have ricocheted and grazed along the ribs of his left side. 

     “That was a little too close, Jake,”  he said quietly.

     “I don’t know who was driving, but he was damn good,”  Jacob whispered as he took out his cigarette case.  He tossed one across to Danny before taking one for himself.  “And that fucking car.  What the hell was it?”

     Daniel was shaking his head as he poked at the wound on his arm.  “Sam’s not going to like this-”

     Both men froze at the sound of movement.  Jake loved the Earl, but he would not hesitate to run and leave it behind to save their asses.  The thunk of hooves and grind of gravel under wooden wheels allowed them both to relax, albeit marginally.  Danny had his pistol at the ready while Jake slid his from its holster.

     Slowly, the unassuming wagon and driver passed by, leaving the two men to breathe normally.  Jake looked at his pocket watch, marking his countdown to be safe in leaving the tiny niche.  His brain was already planning the best route to take to avoid the sheriff and his cronies.  They would follow the trail to the east, probably nearing Quinnesac, then looping back to Kingsford.  With luck, they would reach home before morning.

     “Danny, why don’t you go take care of those?  I’ll keep watch,”  Jake said before lighting up his smoke.

     The taller man stood, limping back towards the Earl.  Blood was soaking down his leg.  Jake knew it was probably going to be a wound for the doctor to fix, but at least Danny could start caring for it.  A sharp curse let Jake know that it was probably going to be worse.  Taking a long drag, he kept his aching body still.  The adrenaline was gone, leaving him feeling completely spent.

     The pops and cracks of the forest surrounded them.  He focused on the breeze in the treetops.  The sound soothed his frayed nerves.  The deep smell of the rot and the denseness of time filled his mind with peace.  Danny returned, the pain evident on his face.

     “One catch?”  he asked.

     “Yeah,”  Danny chuckled.  “Right in the ass cheek.  I’ll never hear the end of it from Molly.”

     Jake grinned and nodded in agreement.  He slid his pistol back into his holster as the minutes dragged by and the daylight began to wane.  He fished out his flask and took a sip of whiskey before handing it off to his friend.

     “Sam’s going to murder you this time for sure,”  Danny remarked, wiping at his face before taking his drink.

     “That bad?”  Jake asked as he lit another smoke.

     “It’s pretty fucked up, Jacob.”

     “We’ll tell him his little spin trick worked.  That’ll soften the blow.”

     Danny snorted out a laugh.  “Stroke the ego.  Good plan.”

     Jake joined his friend in a soft laugh.  For as brilliant as his youngest sibling could be, the man’s ego took center stage and could be used in all sorts of fashion to gain an upper hand.  The harder gate to pass this time was going to be Josh.  This was all Jake’s planning - these extra runs to pump more revenue though the businesses were his doing.  His twin was very aware that Jake was growing weary of being the bait in the stream of product distribution.  They had agreed that they would continue this portion of the business only so long as they could all survive the runs.  Jake knew even with Sammy’s engineering feats, his skills would only keep him in the lead for so long.  There would always be someone faster, someone better that would be able to catch him.

     It was not beyond him that it was stupid luck that he was not outdriven on the day.  Danny knew it, too, he was sure.  If he could not keep the two of them safe, then perhaps it was time to find a better way, or a new driver for the bait car.  He set his hat to the side, running his fingers through his hair.  Josh was going to be livid.  He did not understand Jake’s push to a finish to the aspect of their current business.  It was one thing when they were running for the local speakeasies in Detroit.  It was even different when they were given their first post at home in Frankenmuth.  Josh eyed a much bigger purse than any of them needed and they all just followed because he was Josh.

     “Looking pretty pensive over there, Jake,”  Danny said, lighting up his cigarette.  “Wouldn’t have anything to do with Miss Cora, would it?”

      Jake paused, a sharp response building, but it faded quickly.  Everything he had been building, everything he had been putting into place had been to create a path that he wanted to follow with her.  He screwed his mouth to the side like he was in thought.  Instead of answering, he took another long sip of whiskey.

     “Molly and Susannah really like her,”  Danny said, as if trying to provoke some kind of conversation.  “I really like her, Jake.”  

     Danny did not speak further when it became obvious that he was not going to nibble at the line of talk.  He waited patiently until Jake was sure the coast was clear to roll the Earl out and head for safety.  He whispered a silent prayer of thanks when the auto cranked to life, despite itself.  He took his time, sticking to the horse and buggy trails he knew.  He was sure they would use up the last bit of luck if they made it home before dawn.

Chapter Eight: Pt. 2, Jacob

     Jacob stirred, his whole body was screaming at him.  When he made to sit up, the wound on his ribs tugged, making him wince and groan.  They had reached Kingsford at four in the morning.  He had to rouse the doctor to care for Danny as a bullet had indeed lodged in the flesh of his upper thigh.  Shot up with morphine and liquor, Jacob had dragged his friend into the house before depositing Danny in his own room.  He had crawled into a hazy sleep filled with dreams of innocence that radiated out of Cora like sunshine.  The day was moving towards evening when he woke.  The pain in his side was still sharp but he would survive.  After washing up, he looked in at Danny, finding him still asleep, despite the close heat of the room.  Shoving a hard boiled egg and bread into his mouth, he made his way to the shop, knowing that perhaps Josh would be wondering what the hell had happened and why there was a bill from Doc waiting on the desk.

     His thoughts were light.  Happy, despite the frenzy that had been the previous day.  He nodded and smiled at those he passed.  He even held the door for a group of ladies as they walked into the tea room.  Finally, he searched for Cora as he entered the store, only to find Renee assisting customers on her own.  Politely smiling at the various faces, he walked back to the office, nervous to find the door closed.  Tapping once, he did not wait for his twin’s call and made his way inside.  Cora looked over her shoulder, very much reminding him of a deer in trouble.  Josh leaned back in his opulent chair with a smug grin.

     “Nice to see you, brother,”  Josh remarked.

     Jacob took his typical spot close to the desk.  “What's the story here?”

     “Ah, right to it.  You’re always so direct,”  Josh said with a tap of his fingers.  “Miss Janas here has just agreed to be our new box manager.”

     Jake froze, his fingers fumbling on his cigarette case.  His eyes landed on her in surprise.  His throat burned realizing there was shame in her eyes when she finally met his gaze.  He felt sick.  He struggled to understand why Josh would decide this; why he would act on the choice without talking to him first.

     “Miss Janas, you will finish out today,”  Josh said, his attention turning away.  “You’ll start your new duties tomorrow.  Don’t worry - Jacob here will show you all you need to do.  Meet him-”

     A derisive sound erupted from his throat.  Closing his eyes, he forced a cough.  “Meet me by the garage at nine.”

     He kept his chin tucked as Josh dismissed her.  Jake waited for the click of the door before allowing his anger to spill out of him.

     “What the hell, Josh?  Why would you do that?”  he asked, hands balling into fists at his sides.

     “Do what?  Move our most honest employee, who is quick with numbers, into a position that best suits her skills?”  Josh drawled back annoyingly.

     “What happened to Smith?”  Jaked asked through gritted teeth.

     “Yeah, see I discovered that rat was skimming and doing light pours,”  Josh said dismissively.  “By the way, Mr. Smith is on the ice.  I’ll be having Henry take care of that tonight.”

     Jacob closed his eyes against his twin’s dark grin.  “Why, Joshua?  Why drag Cora into this?”

     “I already told you why, Jake.  She’s honest to a fault.  She will not get greedy.”  He kicked his feet up on the desk.  “Besides, don’t you want your girl to know everything about you?  Don’t you want her to be where you can be involved with her daily?”

     “Not my girl. Not yet,”  Jake whispered against the pain that flared in his chest.

     Josh barked out a laugh.  “I don’t know about that.  You turn into a bitch every time she’s around.”

     “I’ll not have you corrupt her, Joshua.  She’s an innocent.”

     He laughed out again.  “Yeah, call it whatever Jacob, but that girl will do what it takes to improve her situation.  It would not surprise me if-”

    Jake stood straight, unable to hide the heat of his anger from his brother.  Josh crossed his arms, taking on a cocky attitude.

     “I’m trying to find a way out of this shit and you’re digging us deeper,”  he spat.  “I want a good and quiet life - not this.  It was never supposed to be this.”

     “Oh, I don’t know,”  his brother said through a smile.  “I’ve got my eye on that nice little bank and your innocent Cora has a tie to that.  She has just provided some pretty good leverage to that goal.”

     Jake’s mouth dropped open.  “Why are you like this?  This was never the plan when we took this job.”

     “Just trying to amass all I can to give you that good and quiet life, brother.”

     Jake scoffed.  “You like this?  I almost got Danny and I outrun yesterday.  I did get him shot up.  It was too close a call for my goddamn liking, and you’re in here waving the one thing that Cora needs to get her family fucking fed-”

     “Come on, Jake.  It’s a win here - she gets her family to a better place, getting paid twelve dollars a week,”  Josh started, eyes fixed on the ceiling.  “I get to quietly use Miss Janas’ position as the banker’s sister-in-law as leverage.”

     “Why not just utilize the fact the man is a goddamn freak?”

     Josh snorted.  “That only goes so far, dear brother.  If I go after the bank, then I need substantially more than the fact that Archer has some unusual tastes.”

     “Cora does not advance from the Tiger,”  Jake asserted.  “She does not need to be anywhere near the Lantern.”

     “I mean, what would she even do?  I don’t think she has the skills of any of the dancers, but that might be interesting.  Oh, maybe behind the bar.  You know, that may work.  Low cut, having the titties out-”

     “Stop,”  he seethed, hand slapping down on the desk.

     Josh laughed softly.  “See - your girl.  We didn’t even see this passion with… her.”

     Jake glared at him knowing he needed to get out of that office before the fists started flying.  Stiffly, he walked out of the office, pausing as the pain in his side erupted.  His gaze turned onto Cora as she stood at the register, writing up a sales ticket.  For Josh to step over him and use her as a pawn made the ire stab into his belly.  Slinking out of the shop and down the alley to the garage, he came face to face with Sam.  His chest grew tight at the sight of the Earl and all of the sickening damage that she had taken for him.

     Jacob had not been able to see in the dark the full carnage that they had taken.  The bullet holes, the shattered glass, the rear bumper that was nearly obliterated from where Porter’s new rig had rammed into them, the spray of the tommy gun running the length of the sides, lead all the way to the munch of the front where he hit a young tree trying to thread their way out of the woods.  In total, the damage looked catastrophic.

     Jake looked into his brother’s face, ready to spar over it all.  Instead, Sam grabbed hold of him and hugged him close.  He groaned as pain shot through his body over the jarring contact.

     “Holy shit, Jake,”  Sam said with a roughened voice.  “How the hell did you two survive?”

     Untangling himself and landing a hand on his ribs, Jake fished out a cigarette.  “Nearly didn’t.  That fucker’s got a new rig and driver.  Porter caught our tail at Gladstone and didn’t let it go until after Faunus.”

     “What was it?”  Sam asked, face hard with thought.

     “Have no idea,”  Jake answered with a shake of his head.

     “How could you not know?”  Sam asked, poking his finger against the smashed rear panel.

     “They were shooting bullets.  I didn’t think it was a good time to stop and have a conversation about automobiles,”  he snapped.  He flopped his body down in the chair by the main workbench.  “Can you fix it?”

     Sam’s eyes flared.  “Resurrect it is more like it.  I’m not sure about it this time, Jake.  It might be time to talk to Father about a replacement.”

     “Your pedal thing worked,”  Jake said, his grin widening.

     “Pedal thing…  You weren’t supposed to use that.”

     “It saved our asses, Sammy.  Made the J-turn super slick.  One moment, we were heading north, the next - south.  It was beautiful.”

     “You could have stripped the-”

     A soft gasp stopped all sound.  Jake’s eyes snapped to Cora as she stood taking in the state of the Earl.  He tried to stand up without flinching with pain while Sam was moving to grab a tarp.  Cora started to turn away.

     “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to-”  she started, her voice trembling.

     Just as he was able to gain his feet, he froze as she turned back towards him.  Her face held fear, but there was a questioning in her eyes that gave him pause.

     “Jacob?”  she asked, moving back towards the car, fingers extended.

     Hearing his name seemed to unglue him from his frozen state.  “Let me drive you home.  I’ll tell you about it-”

     “No,”  she said, her fingertips touching a twisted piece of bumper.  “You’re going to tell me about this right here.  Now.”

     Jacob started to grit his teeth until he saw the heat in her face.  “Sammy.  Why don’t you go and check on Daniel.  I’m sure he’s going to need help.”

     “Sure thing, Jake,”  the younger sibling said, reaching for his jacket.

     “Get the doors too, please.”

     He waited until all three of the garage doors were slid into place before moving towards her.  Her hands were tracing over the twisted sheets of metal and punctures of bullet holes.  Her eyes held a sadness that pierced him, made him feel a shame he could not quite explain.

     “Jacob?”

     “Yes, Cora?”

     “Could you have been killed?”

     He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment as she paused, eyes on him.  “Yes.”

     “Are you hurt?”  she continued, step by step, each brush of her fingertips bringing back a flash of what had happened.

     “Yes,”  he whispered.     “Is Daniel wounded as well?”

     He cleared his throat, unable to force his mouth to work.  Instead, he nodded.  He heard the soft exhale she released as she stood on the passenger side, touching the hole that more than likely was the culprit of Danny’s bullet in the thigh.

     “This kind of makes the Tiger look tame to me,”  she said finally, turning her body towards him.  “I think it’s time to explain to me what's behind the curtain, Jacob.”

Chapter Eight: Pt. 3, Cora POV

     Cora was silent as Jacob drove her towards home.  He did not try to loop their pinkies together.  It was as if he could feel her working through all of the information he had given her.  As he waded through his mire, he had acted like each new piece of reveal about his family would frighten her more than each bullet hole, crunch and mangled piece of the Earl.

     The whispers had been true - to an extent. Looking out across the fields, Cora surprised herself in the lack of fear she felt.  She knew she should feel something, be it fear, outrage, or at the very least surprised.  The man beside her was a criminal.  She saw the wreckage of the Earl.  Her mind kept returning to the night before he had left, and his question about being bad, being stained.  None of it, however, mattered.  None of it was really Jacob.

     Cora saw the remorse in him.  She saw the aversion to putting Daniel and himself in such a situation that could have had them in such danger.  She felt the need he had to walk away from it all, but the restraint he practiced due to his loyalty to his family was in the same vein as her own responsibility to her family.

     Jacob rolled the Kissel to a stop in front of the cottage.  With the day’s light lingering, Cora took note of the boys still in the yard with their mother walking down from the barn with Matthew by her side.  Cora wrangled the boys away from the car while Jacob followed behind, watching quietly.

     “Jon, get the water on the stove,”  she ordered.  “Georgie, you and Matthew can bring in the wood.”

     “He won’t let me help with that,”  Georgie snapped.

     “Then, sir, you can help me,”  she said, widening her eyes as she scooped him up.  “Go wash up.”

     The boy giggled and squirmed until she set him down. Jacob brushed his fingers against hers to get her attention.

      “I think it’s time I talked with your mother,”  he said quietly.  “You still want to be my girl?”

     She smiled at him.  “I like the way that sounds.”

     Cora made her way inside.  Georgie was at the ready.  They made biscuits and got potato soup on the cooktop to warm through.  She found herself sneaking glances out the tiny window to see Jacob and her mother speaking.

     “Is Mr. Jacob taking you?”  Matthew asked, standing next to her.

     “No,”  she answered.  “If he takes me, he takes all of us.”

     “Really?  He wants that?”  her brother asked, a smile lighting his features.

      She smiled and nodded.  Her mother was leading the way inside, Jacob right behind with his hat in his hand.  Cora handed Georgie the spoons and Jon the bowls to set out.   

      “Mr. Jacob will be staying for supper,”  Rosemary said as she hung up her barn coat.

      Cora got another setting down and handed it to Jon.  She watched as her mother took his hat and coat to hang up.  She had a moment of hesitation as she stirred the soup.  After the amazing food he had prepared for her and his family, their very basic meal was a little underwhelming.  Georgie was on the man’s side, tugging at him to his seat at the table.   She liked that he watched as she moved about the tiny space.  She liked hearing him talk to the little brothers about the cars and driving all over the county and beyond.  It was nice to have so much excitement at their table.  Something they had not had since her father had been able to sit with them.

     After they prayed, Cora wondered if they would keep to their usual silence.  Rosemary surprised everyone when she asked Jacob about his parents and brothers.  It was like the dam broke, allowing Jonathan in particular to ask all kinds of questions, mainly pertaining to the Earl.  Each word out of Jon’s mouth seemed to echo in Matthew’s eyes.  It brought a smile to her as Jacob seemed to stir and settle in her family’s company.

     “My younger brother, Samuel, is the one you ask about all the guts and stuff,”  Jacob said with a nod.  “He’s a mastermind when it comes to those heaps.  Some people even call him The Engineer. ”

     Supper sped by, much to Cora’s disappointment.  She tried to savor the moments that had become so foreign.  He had brought with him a glimmer of what it meant to be a family again.  Georgie was tapping at his hip as he was getting his coat on.  Jacob crouched down and the boy leaned in against him with a question only the two of them shared.  Georgie looked concerned as he waited for his answer.  Jake looked at her for a long moment.  His face was calm.  She couldn’t look away when he made a big show of bringing the boy in close with a wave and a hand over his ear so only the two could share the answer.  Georgie lit up like a firefly.  Jacob nudged him towards Rosemary with a finger up to his mouth to keep it a secret.  Cora softened at the sight.  She moved towards him to walk him out.

     “You made a friend,”  she teased as she walked towards him.

     The gentle sound of assent tugged at her.  He took her hand leading her out to the car.  

      “If Mother asked you to stay, I’m assuming you had a good conversation?”  she asked.

      He nodded, his face smooth.  “I told her that you and I are alike in that we both have a keen awareness of loyalty to our family.”

     Cora looked down at how he connected their hands.  “I’m sure she had choice words over my current bull headedness in that area as of late.”

     “No, but I did inform her that I understood that you come all together, not just you.  I think I impressed her with sentiment.”

     Her chin quivered as he drew close.  “Thank you,”  she whispered as he traced his fingers down her jaw.

     She watched as he drove away.  Her heart felt full.  By the time she had cleaned the supper dishes, her mother was back at the table.  Her face looked frail as rubbed at her brow, her mending before her.

     “He’s a good man,”  she said.

     “He is,”  Cora whispered back, sitting down.  “Why don’t you let me do this and you go get some rest, Mama.”

     “It’s been too long since we’ve had laughter at this table,”  she said.  “It felt good.”

     Cora watched her mother’s thin frame rise from her chair and fetch a drink of water.  She sorted through the boy’s pants that needed patching, and noticed that one of Junie’s dresses was still in the pile.  Her mother patted her shoulder in thanks as she headed off to bed.  

     She worked into the evening, the only sound was within her thoughts as she worked.  She made little mental notes to save for a new pair of pants for Matthew as his church pair were becoming too short, and Jon’s shirt was even too small for Georgie.  The money she would be making from the Tiger would go a long way in a very short period of time.  Jacob had to be aware of her reasoning, not that Mr. Kiszka gave her much of a choice.  She was very much aware that the advancement was a direction that she had no say in.  The farm debt would be finished in weeks, as well.  Blowing out a soft breath, she felt like she was closing in on a finish that she had been so focused on that what was to happen after felt beyond her realm of her thought.    

     Cora wore the blue outfit into town for her first day in the Tiger.  Her heart might have been fluttering at the prospect of seeing Jacob, but her stomach was lurching at the new responsibilities.  Her mother had been eerily quiet when Cora was not out the door with her when it was time for milking cows.  She took her time on her walk into town, noticing the first of the summer wildflowers were escaping the clutches of the edge of the forests, appearing along the buggy trail, as well as in the tall grasses.

     Town was sleepy as she made her way towards the shop.  Her eyes paused on Renee as she was sliding a variety of breads in the display by the window of the general store.  The store clerk stopped in her work, offering a small wave hello.  She rounded the corner, feeling very odd not to be inside the shop.  As she grew closer to the garage, there was a huge clattering on the floor, followed by a barrage of curses.  Cora stopped, unsure if she should continue.

     “I told you to fucking hold it!”  Sam’s voice was tight just as another round of clattering skidded across the floor.

     She could hear Jacob, but his words were muffled and lost in an eruption of sound.  Deciding it was worse to be late than the momentary embarrassment, she stepped forward, rapping her knuckles on the door before walking into the garage.

     Both men were bent over the engine of the Earl, heads deep in work.  The grumbling and banter made her smile as she realized the words were not much different than what would transpire between her own brothers.  She stepped inside, quietly moving towards them.  Her eyes landed on Jacob’s form, clad in trousers, but dressed down to just his undershirt, arms exposed, suspenders dangling at his hips.  

     Swallowing, she felt squishy as she moved close enough to smell his cologne.  “Gentlemen,” she said quietly.

     The men turned their chins towards her, their faces blank as she let her eyes fall down on the engine like she knew what she was looking at.  

     “Good morning, Miss Cora,”  Samuel beamed.  Jacob started to stand but the younger sibling made a sound followed by a rush of ‘no’s’.  

     He smiled sheepishly at her as he clammored to gain his hold on whatever it was once more.  His eyes flicked up to her, catching her looking at him.  “Cora,”  he said.

     If Sam had noticed the lack of formality, he did not let on.  She shifted, eyes dragging down Jacob’s arm and across to his chest and torso.  It was like he could feel her as he turned and leaned back to allow her to take him in.

     “I hear you have a new posting,”  Sam remarked, his focus sharp on his task.  “Did you bring a book?”

     “Pardon?”  she asked, unwilling to look away from Jacob.

     “You’ll have some downtime,”  he continued.  “Here.  You can take this one.  Hold on, Jake.”

    Sam wiped his hands across a towel that had been shoved into the waist of his pants as he crossed the space.  He was talking about a French author that was amazing and the machines he wrote about really were unique.  Jacob drew in a frustrated breath.  She giggled.  Seeing him in such a position that pinned him to his spot was interesting.

     “Oh, Jules Verne,”  she replied, looking at the cover.  “I enjoyed his Round the World in Eighty Days.  Thank you.”

     “You’ve read Verne?”  he asked, his body still.

     She nodded.  “In the original French.  It’s what my father expected.”

     Samuel snorted in surprise.  Jacob laughed quietly.  Cora was unsure if she had just been boastful or had slighted him in some way.

     “Damn, Jake,”  he said finally.  “She may be too smart for any of us.”

     “I’m gonna make you smart if you don’t hurry up,”  Jacob groaned as he shifted his hands on whatever he was holding onto.

     The younger sibling shot her a wide smile as he bent back over, hair sweeping down the angles of his face.  He quickly pulled and twisted, finally allowing Jacob to stand.  Cora could not hide the blush as he leaned back to stretch out stiff muscles, revealing his full frame.  Sam continued talking as he tinkered, but her whole focus was on Jacob as he slid into the crisp white dress shirt and was buttoning up.  A coy smile was fixed on his mouth as he tucked in his shirt tails and pulled up his suspenders over his shoulders.  He bent to pick up a dark navy vest and matching tie.  He was very aware that her eyes were squarely on his fingers as he slid each button into place, followed by getting his tie into place.  By the time he was sliding his coat on, Cora knew her cheeks were blazing red and was trying to hide, all the while Sam was talking about Captain Nemo and how he knew she was going to love the book.

     Jacob offered his elbow to her and she fell into step.  He walked towards a narrow side door, producing a key to unlock the heavy lock before leading her by the hand inside to find a thin hallway that would not have allowed two people to walk side by side.  

     “You liked watching me dress,”  he said, voice barely a whisper, full of heat that struck her.  “Didn’t you?”

     It was not embarrassment that prickled under her skin.  Her core clenched as her mouth begged to be pressed against his.  There was an unfamiliar beat in her heart as he looked back at her.  Her whole body felt like it hiccuped with its own pulse.  He paused in his tread, leaning towards her until she felt the security of the wall against her back.

     “You like what you saw,”  he breathed, their noses bumping from proximity.  

     Her words failed as he brushed the back of his fingers first up, across her cheek, only to repeat with the pads of his fingertips down.  She nodded.  He was not the only man she had seen in such a state of undress, but he was the first to make her stomach feel like it slammed to her feet and her heart leap into her throat.  His index finger and thumb tilted her chin up to bring her mouth to his own.

     Whether it was because she was already off kilter, or she had been waiting for him to kiss her, Cora’s being was transcended.  He dragged her bottom lip into his mouth and gave it a gentle suck, to which she mirrored precisely.  He hummed, taking a moment to whisper against her lips to open her mouth.  Suddenly, his tongue pressed forward against hers.  She fought the urge to bite down, instead feeling a shockwave of heat spread across her chest and rocket through the rest of her body.  His hand was firm on her cheek.  His body felt solid against hers.  She was a little more hesitant to follow, timidly moving her tongue against his rewarded her with another soft hum.

     He moved away from her a fraction before he crashed in on her again.  Cora relaxed her jaw as slowly, they moved together.  This kiss was deeper.  It was like their bodies were responding to the other as if dancing.  His fingers came to rest, tangling in her own as wave after wave, they pulsed together.

     A sound in the hall behind them startled him.  His eyes were unfocused as he moved away from her.  Cora let her eyes open, feeling like her body was aching for him to touch her in places she herself had not dared.  He returned his gaze to her but only momentarily.  She stepped forward behind him as he began to return back to the business at hand.

     “This hall wraps the whole back of the building and shares with the dressing rooms above the dancehall and the Lantern below,”  he said, before opening a narrow door.

      Inside was no larger than a broom closet, but held a chair, lamp, and small table that looked anchored to the wall on one end, while along the long wall, there was a singular set of cabinets that looked like the ones inside the back of the mercantile shop, just without the top cases.  He took her clutch and Sam’s book from her and set it under the chair before moving back to the hall.  He slid back panels in the wall opposite the tiny room to reveal shelving of boxes and bottles.  

      “Down here,”  he said as he pushed open a small panel on the bottom.  “Empties.   In the evening, you fill the empty flasks by weight.  The scale is here.  Filled flasks are here in the middle.  The whiskey is up top.  Empty bottles of that go to the right.  Danny will keep you in stock.”

      He moved down a set of panels to open.  Jacob paused, looking like something was out of place.  He mumbled something before shaking his head.

      “You’ll find the ledger and the money box in here. The job is fairly simple,”  he said, handing her the ledger.  “Each flask is $2.  The price is final.  If there is any money extra, you do not give change.  You simply take it.  Think of it as gravy.  For every $2, you put in a flask.  Record each sale in the ledger,”  he said, moving her into the tiny room.  “I come for the cash box at the end of the day.  On those days when I am out of town, Joshua will take care of it, but you return it to the shelf here and he’ll get to it in his own time.”

       He explained how the drawer worked.  The idea behind the Tiger was simple - the person buying the flask did not and could not say with honesty who sold them the liquor, while the opposite was true for the person on the other side of the drawer.  The affair had to be quick so as not to draw attention from anyone in the shop.  Clearly, the person who had the job before her had been something else, because Renee never said anything, and she had never noticed anyone spending more than a few moments in what she assumed to be the shared wall of the general store. 

      Cora settled herself down, a dozen flasks on the table, book in hand.  The sounds of the hall were different.  She could vaguely hear beyond the wall into the shop on one side, the clunks of shoes up and down stairs that she figured were the stairs for the dressing rooms, but faintly, she could hear music from the dancehall.  Her mind drifted, the image of dancing with Jacob flitting through her mind like the notes that struck her ear.  The drawer was yanked open and closed, suddenly snapping her out of her reminiscence and starting her day.

      By the time Jacob was returning to collect the cash box, she had the box balanced out, the ledger reorganized to show actual numbers, and she was weighing flasks for the next day’s business.

      “One hundred and fifty three flasks,”  she said as stopped before her.  “Is that typical?  I mean, I also got three chapters of Sam’s book read, and the ledger was a mess so I sorted that out as well.”

      He grinned as she pulled down the heavy register and started showing him what she had done.  He took the time to allow her to explain her thought process.  She also showed that she added an entry to record the ‘gravy’.  He raised an eyebrow at her as she beamed.  

     “I hope I didn’t overstep, it just makes more sense this way,”  she said as he took the ledger for a closer look.

     “What made more sense?”  Joshua asked from behind them, taking both of them by surprise.

     “Mr. Kiszka, I, uh…”  Cora watched as Jacob turned his body so they both could see her work.  “I  thought this may be a better way to keep track of the dealings back here.  You can see-”

      “Jacob,”  he said, his eyes training across all of the numbers rapidly.  “Mr. Smith was making fifteen dollars a week, correct?”

      “Sounds right,”  Jacob said with a nod.

      “Miss Janas, you will not make our arranged twelve dollars a week,”  he remarked as he took the book from his twin.  “No, I think work like this deserves more.  Eighteen to start.  If you show promise here, perhaps we need to talk about accounting.  You have a very real talent for this, don’t you?”       “Thank you, sir,”  she said, her stomach churning as Jacob’s gaze fell back on her.

      “How about some supper?”  Joshua asked, instantly slipping out of work with his slow, warm grin.  “We can go over to The Boudreau.”

      “I’m not dressed for-”

      “You look beautiful,”  Jacob whispered, leaning in close.  “Don’t you worry about that.”

      She felt the color strike her cheeks before she could stop herself.  The matter settled, she collected her things while Jacob took the cash box, leaving Joshua behind to walk out with Cora.  She followed him outside, catching sight of Samuel standing at the edge of the garage.  Catching his gaze, the man’s dark eyes glinted with a wide smile.

     “Good day?”  he called with a wave.  “How are you liking my book?”

     “I think it’s lovely,”  she answered as he walked up.  “I don’t know about some of the more technical aspects.  Perhaps it is lost between the translation from the native French.  It doesn’t seem as crisp.”

     “Sounds like a good debate,”  Joshua remarked.  “Sam, come to supper.”

     Sam’s face was incredulous.  “Absolutely.  Crisp?  Lost in translation?  I am dying to know what you mean by that, Miss Cora.”

     Sam held his elbow out to her and was rambling on about 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea being the superior novel to Round the World as the contraptions utilized were just so much better.  She laughed as he started to describe the submarine and just how crazy it was that it was written before submarines were possible.

      “Hey, she’s my girl!”  Jacob called out, walking down the alley behind them, capturing everyone’s attention.

      Sam beamed down at her.  “Oh, yeah?  Since when?”

      “Since last night when I asked permission, Samuel.  Hands off,”  he said, gliding in between her and his younger sibling.  

      “Permission?  Courting?”  Joshua asked with raised eyebrows.  “Well, that’s interesting.”

      Cora rolled her lips in between her teeth as Jacob guided her over to the Kissel. He made his brothers sit in the back for the short drive over to the north side of town.  The hotel sported a fancy eatery that was popular with the well-to-do of the town.  The dining room was dressed in swaths of expensive fabrics, rugs, and lavish dark woods.  She tried not to hold tight to Jacob, but the thought of not looking her part choked her.  These were ladies without profession and knew no likes of chores, routine, or hardship.  Many of these faces she recognized as being the owners of the households their servants purchased for from the shops. 

      The Maître D of the hotel greeted them at the door, smiling wide and shaking Joshua’s hand as they were led forward towards a table in the center of the restaurant.  It was not a full house, but it was busy with the likes of those who lived in the larger homes of the town.  She spotted one of the ladies that had been in the parlor with Junie when she had seen her.  The woman’s eyes flashed over to her briefly before looking away without recognition.  Cora thought that was probably good for her sister and that no slight had been taken away from that day.

      Seated, Cora turned on everything she knew about table decorum in an establishment such as The Boudreau from what she had read in her books.  She glanced around, mirroring those ladies she could see.  Her eyes pinched when the waiter walked away without handing her a menu.  Jacob leaned over to whisper in her ear.

      “Point out what you want and I’ll order for you,”  he said, leaning back to take in her expression.  

      “That kind of place,”  she responded with an eye roll.

      Jacob nodded once before turning his attention to his twin who was speaking softly about others in the room.  Samuel grinned at her over his menu, obviously ready to verbally spar over the book.  The goofiness in his face made her giggle.  It looked like he needed a challenge that was beyond the working of the Earl.

      “Before we do this, Mr. Samuel, I plead that I am only three chapters in, and a solid opinion of the overall story is beyond my reckoning at the moment.  Furthermore, I reserve the right to change my opinion on the novel for when I finish the entirety of the piece,”  she said with a sure smile.  

       Sam’s jaw slacked a bit at her ribbing.  Jacob dropped his hand under the table to squeeze her hand.  One glance and she was rewarded with a smirk that only an older brother could give.

       “Are you rethinking this line of debate, Samuel?”  Joshua jabbed, his eyes actually on a table in the distance.  “I think she may be too much for you.”

       “Then we only talk about the first three chapters of each book,”  the youngest Kiszka remarked, setting his menu down.  His dark eyes sharpened on her.  “Unless, Miss Cora, you find shortening your argument may dampen your chances for a win in this matter.”

        Sam snorted out a laugh that surprised the table next to them, and he did not care.  Cora was busy pointing to the meal she wanted before turning her attention back to the matter at hand.  Sipping at her water, her attention moved once more as Mr. Archer walked in with a woman who was not her sister on his arm.  A spike of ire poked in her belly as her brother-in-law was seated a few tables away.  The woman that he sat next to was closer to his own age, wearing expensive clothing and even dared to wear rouge on her cheeks.  Joshua had noticed where her gaze had fallen, his eyes hardening.

      “Who is that with Mr. Archer?”  she asked, unable to look away at how he carried on with her with such familiarity.

      “I believe that is Mrs. Miller,”  Joshua answered.

     Jacob’s hand slid into her own.  Cora’s throat constricted.  “But who is she?”

     He moved closer to her, but Joshua was already talking.  “I would dare say not a relative,”  he hummed as Mr. Archer kissed the back of the woman’s hand.  “Oh.  Oh, right.  Definitely not a relative.”

     Cora could not mask the surprise on her face.  “Jacob?”

     He tightened his hold on her hand.  “Easy, Finch,” he whispered.

     “Is this normal?”  she squeaked out.

     “No,”  he answered.  “And unexpected.”

     Samuel was looking over his shoulder at her upset.  When he turned back to her, he mouthed something she did not understand.  Suddenly, he started coughing, drawing the attention of his siblings first, followed by the few close tables.  He quieted for a brief moment, only to gasp loudly and a whole new round of coughing that was ragged and loud.  She saw across Sam’s shoulder Mr. Archer’s face turned towards her, recognition in his eyes.

      A waiter arrived at the edge of their table with a concerned look.  Samuel let out a few more soft coughs as he straightened his back, hand dramatically placed on his chest.  

     “Oh, goodness,”  he struggled.  “Oh, my, my…  My sincerest apologies, everyone.  I do not know what overcame me.  Perhaps the air grew too thick.  My pardons, sincerely.”

     Mr. Archer sat stick straight, eyes dispassionate on his companion.  Mrs. Miller mirrored his actions, but her face was blazing a sour color under her rouged cheeks and mouth.  Samuel leaned forward against the table, a dark smile on his lips.

     “I think he will be leaving soon, Miss Cora,”  he laughed quietly.

     Sure enough, Mr. Archer was waving at the waiter as she was standing up.  Joshua stood quickly, crossing the distance to the banker.  Cora watched as her sister’s husband shook Mr. Kiszka’s hand with one eye on her. 

     “What is going on?”  she asked.

     “Business,”  Jacob answered stiffly.

     Samuel let out a deep sigh.  “I guess our mood is squashed for Verne.”

     “I suppose so,”  she said, her voice quiet.

     “That’s all right,”  he said.  “Perhaps it’ll be better to spar when you are finished with the piece to better utilize the entirety of the masterpiece.”

     “It is like only debating over a corner of a painting instead of seeing the work as a whole, isn’t it?”  she smiled.

     Jacob turned his chin towards her ear.  “Are you well?”

     “I just do not understand.  He was making a mockery of my sister.  His place is not with that woman,”  she answered.  “Have you seen this before?”

     “Not out here,”  he said.  “Not in this type of public.”

     Sam’s eyes were soft as he cleared his throat.  He nodded as he began to fiddle with his fork.  “Sorry, but not just there.  Sometimes at the diner.”

     “Often?”  she whispered.

     Both men nodded.  Cora dragged in a sharp breath and squared her shoulders as Joshua returned to the table without a word.  The cool mood that had settled over them was brittle.  Their dinner had arrived and the moment broke when Sam stated he could have made his supper better than the chef.  That spurred the debate for the rest of the meal between Samuel and Jacob.

     Joshua seemed to reside elsewhere, even though he interacted when he needed to.  She had a chill that had started at her feet and lapped at her body like she was standing in a wide lake.  She fought to keep the fog from her brain and the need to analyze each moment of what she had seen.  She desired only to run to her sister with questions, but she wondered if Junie even knew what was happening beyond the borders of her own home.

     They piled into the Kissel, stopping for a moment for the brothers to get out at the dancehall before heading out to the country.  Cora had lost herself in the rolls and turns of the land, its shadows growing long and dark.  She had not noticed that he had slowed down, pulling the car over to the side and cutting the engine.  

     “After yesterday, I think we…  No.  I think I need to be nothing but honest with you.”  

     Cora looked at him.  Swallowing, she nodded.  The corners of his mouth turned down in a tight curve.

     “I need to get out of this business,”  he whispered.  He looked tired as he scrubbed his hands across his eyes.  “Josh wants the bank.  I am trying to tell myself that Archer’s little misstep tonight wasn’t somehow orchestrated for a manner of leverage.”

     Cora remained quiet for a long moment.  The word leverage echoed through her.  Her brows cinched as the words tumbled out of her, “Surely he wouldn’t use me against my sister?”

     Jacob barked out a hard, ugly laugh.  “Do not allow my brother’s charisma fool you.  He’s petty and ruthless.  He’ll use whatever it takes to get ahead.  Even tarnishing us around him to get to his means.”

     “Why does he want the bank?”  she asked.

     “Fast way to clean money, expand our services in the region, especially for the friends in Chicago,”  Jacob answered.

     “I don’t want to ask my next question,”  she whispered, her mouth pursing as she fought the emotions.  He took her hand and tugged her to move closer.  “Junie’s wedding day.”

     He snorted.  “I was fighting myself to not run and swing at that preacher for his mistake.”

     “Your hesitance shaking Mr. Archer’s hand - is he bad?”

     “We can all be bad, Cora.”

     “Will he hurt her… on purpose?”

     She watched as he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth.  “Yeah, I’m afraid so.”

     Cora’s mind was invaded by mud.  She tried to see a path that would protect Junie, but the absolute cutting her away from the family had destroyed any possible way to know there was trouble.

     “He hasn’t allowed you to see her since our visit?”  Jacob asked.

     “No,”  she sniffed.  “I try every few days, but the housekeeper says that the family is not in the house.”

      “She has not been to church services since the wedding, I’m sure.”

     Cora thought back to May.  He was correct.  “I’m so lost in this.  She must be so scared.”

      He shifted beside her, turning his body to face her.  He tilted his face up, brushing the pad of his thumb across the ridge of her cheek.  “I’ll see if I can put the Archer household on the docket for visiting on Sunday,”  he said softly.  “I’m sure this is a button for Josh to press, but we can use the time for figuring out if Junie needs help.”

      He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead as he wrapped his arms around her.  Cora breathed him in.  Her body started to shed its cold as his hands tightened on her.  Unlike her closeness with her sister, she could feel the solidness of his body beneath her touch.  The sound of strength in his heart lulled her.  The moment made her weary.  The fear for her sister was real.  There had been signs that perhaps Mr. Archer was not the gentleman that he presented himself to be at church.  

      “I don’t think you can be bad, Jacob,”  she whispered.

      There was a grumble in his chest beneath her ear.  “I’ve done bad, Finch.  I make no excuses for it, but I’ve done it.”

      “What do you want to do when it’s time to leave this behind?”  

      “I don’t fucking care what we do.  I just want quiet.  Something to be proud of and call our own.”  He paused, his whole body becoming frozen beneath her.  He took in a raspy breath before touching his mouth to her hairline.  “Sorry.  That came out harder than I wanted.”

      “We,”  she whispered, rising up to look down into his face.  

      He smiled as he traced her mouth.  “What about it?”

      “You said ‘we’.  Do you think of this as ‘we’?”  

     Cora’s heart sloshed as he nodded.  He kissed her, gently at first, deepening it as he sat up, pushing her back as he moved over her.  She held him tight to keep from falling over, but felt his hand slide around the small of her back to hold her in place.  Her body felt antsy like she could not be close enough to him.  She moved against the seat and they pressed down until they were horizontal.  Their mouths moved together.  He brushed his hand across the shallow curve of her hip, only to repeat with more pressure.  She released a long breath at the touch.  The heat left behind as he brought his touch up, nearing the swell of her breast made her insides stutter.  His palm stopped on her ribcage.  He pulled his mouth away from her and she whined softly at the lack of contact.

      Her eyes were slow to open.  He stared down at her as he kept his body propped above hers.  The ends of his hair tickled his chin and her forehead.  She listened as he drew in a long, smooth breath.  He touched his forehead to hers with a soft laugh.

      “I need to get you home before I take this too far,”  he whispered.

      He pressed one more kiss to her mouth, rolling her lip between his before sitting up, tugging her along to land upright against his chest.  He tucked a stray hair behind her ear.  Cora’s eyes closed.  She allowed her brain to pause in the moment and pressed her mouth to his once more, dragging his lip in between her teeth and gliding her tongue across.  His hand cupped her cheek, bringing her closer, up upon him, deepening their kiss once more.  Something in her core rippled as his free hand looped around her waist, his fingers coming to rest on her opposite hip.  He shifted until she was nearly in his lap, never breaking contact.  

      Lightheaded and her heart racing, Cora dared to bring her hands up to touch his face.  He breathed out as the pads of her fingers brushed across his cheeks, followed by his neck.  She rose slightly above him and was rewarded by him rising up into her.  Her body begged for more.  Her mind was exploding with trying to keep up with all of the ways he felt, how he touched her, how he tasted…

       He dropped his chin, effectively stopping their movements.  He was nearly gasping for air as Cora tried to reconnect.  He gently moved her away.  His eyes were stormy.  Cora sought him again, but he merely smiled.

      “I can’t continue,”  he whispered.  “I want to, but it’s not right.”

      “I like the way you touch me,”  she whispered back.  “I want more.”

      He blew out a breath along with a shaky laugh.  “Finch,”  he sighed.  

      She watched as he brought her hand up to his mouth and planted a kiss against her palm.  Cora felt her breath still as she took that palm and rested it against his cheek.  His dark eyes drifted closed.  His hair was a mess and tickling against his ears and jaw.  His whole body became still save for the gentle rise and fall of his breath.  

      “You’re beautiful, Jacob.”

      The words fell from her lips before she had a chance to reflect on them and consider if they were right to utter into existence.  His face tilted into her touch.  A soft hum struck her ears.

     “You’re so unspoiled, Cora,”  he whispered.  “I will do everything I can to be worthy of this.”

     Before she could argue, he turned away, turning the engine into life.  Her thoughts swirled between the pain of her sister, the starkness of home and the heat of the man beside her.  In it all, somehow, her heart felt strong.  She was not alone.  

Well.  I hope you enjoyed today’s chapter.  A lot happened.  This will be the only chapter posted for this week.  Life is getting busy, but next week, there may be two depending on how the week goes.  I hope you smile today.  Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story. See you next time!

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#greta van fleet #gvf #jake gvf #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #josh gvf #sammy gvf #sam gvf #daniel gvf #danny gvf #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fanfic au #greta van fleet au fic #greta van fleet x ocs #bootleggers and wildflowers

[oh-surprise-its-me]

Roy/Jamie prompt: Slight AU Set in S2 after Roy's come back as coach, him and Keeley having not gotten together. Roy and Jamie get into an argument and its the same thing of them verbally jousting until Roy goes too far and says something really mean that actually has Jamie looking at Roy like he can't fathom the man he's always looked up to could actually say something so horrid. Jamie has enough composure to tell Roy he wishes he'd never loved him at all before promptly bursting into tears and running out of the locker room with maybe Sam or Dani chasing after him. Roy is stunned, and then feels like absolute shit, everyone looks at him like he's scum, and even Ted tells him he better fix it fast. Roy's gonna have to put on his big boy pants and pull out all the stops to win back the man he didn't even know he could have.

Ohoh

Roy can say the excuse of he never knew. That wouldn’t be fair. He knew. Knew how fucked of a thing it was to say.

He froze as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Knew he never should’ve said them.

As he thinks back to Jamie racing out he winces.

Jesus.

He stares at Jamie’s house. Can’t believe he’s about to apologize to Jamie. Correction he can believe it, but he can’t believe it.

He limps up to the door, pain always did make him snappy and meaner. He knocks. He waits and knocks again.

“Jesus Christ I’m coming.”

The door is wrenched open by a slightly disheveled blond. It starts to be slammed into Roy’s face but he catches it. “Need to apologize Jamie.”

Jamie freezes. Roy has never used his name before.

“Alright… come in.”

Jamie pulls the door open a bit more and gestures at the couch. “Go ahead say what you want old man.”

Roy breathes for a second. “I’m sorry. Never should’ve said any of it. Was a fucked thing to say. You’ve gotta know I don’t think it.”

Jamie nods. He stays silent.

“I’m a shit person at feeling sometimes Jamie. Say things too meanly. Say things too harsh. Love too hard.”

Jamie’s head whips up at that one. “Love?” Jamie let’s put a laugh. “Mate dunno why you brought up love unless you knocked your head.”

Roy shakes his head. He reaches out and takes Jamie’s hand. “You brought it up. Made me realize what the feeling was.”

There’s a shudder. “You can’t be serious.”

Roy nods. “Course I am. I’m always serious. I’m in love with you Jamie Tartt.”

Jamie blinks at him. He smiles and pulls Roy into a hug. “Alright. Mostly forgiven. I want a fancy date for the full apology though.”

Roy gently pinches Jamie’s side. “Anything you wanna say back to me?” Jamie shakes his head in Roy’s neck. “I love you too idiot.”

-

When they show up that following week holding hands Dani, Sam, Colin, Isaac and bumbercatch gives Roy the shovel talk.

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent #jamie x roy #royjamie #roy kent x jamie tartt #thanks for the ask !! #hope you like sorry it’s short! #I’m a bit fuzzy still from NyQuil so hopefully it makes sense!

[xtrafluffyteddy]

Night routine

Pairing: Eddie munson x reader, Billy hargrove x reader , Steve harrington x reader

Mentions: cursing, shenanigans, grumpiness, otherwise fluff fluff

Part of the home for wayward souls series

Your night routine was sacred it was the only thing that helped you sleep at night and you never really skipped it unless 1.you were drunk off your ass and couldn’t remember to do it or 2.it kept getting interrupted like it had been tonight

You were beginning to do your night time routine already starting to wash your face when a loud crash rang through the house, you set down your face mask cream and groaned rolling your eyes “what was that?” You call out hearing a bunch of hushed frantic whispers then Steve answering “nothing baby don’t worry about it” followed by a series of yeahs and don’t come in here’s. You just decide that it wasn’t worth the effort to check just wanting to finish your routine so you could go to bed

Right as your about to wash your face another crash is heard this time louder than the last, you groan and slam down the wash cloth face only half washed as you stomp to Eddie’s room where the commotion is “now what in the fresh hell is goin on what’s with all the bangin” you place your hands on your hips when you see all three of them standing on Eddie’s bed “would you believe us if we just said we were play fighting” you have them a ‘are you serious’ look “okay okay there’s a huge roach” Steve confesses

You roll your eyes then flinch back when the fucker comes flying at you deciding to join the three boys ontop of the already to small bed “Jesus Christ you didn’t tell me it flies!” You use Billy as a human shield as it starts flying again “I just wanted to go to bed” you groan “now I’m stuck in Eddie’s stinky room held captive by a cracked out roach that probably got into some of Ed’s special goods” you snicker but then hide again when the roach flies towards Steve

“Hey! My room isn’t that stinky fuck! you smoke in here one time!” Eddie defends before falling back off the bed when the roach flies right for his face “Jesus Christ!” He shouts deciding to take cover under the bed

“Hey!” Max shouts banging on the door “stop bein so loud in there!” She cracks open the door confused as to why three of you are standing on the bed and why Eddie is hiding under the bed “what kinda-“ she begins only to duck when the roach comes flying at her next “Jesus!” She whips off her shoe with ease solving the problem in an instant “thanks Max” you call only getting a grumble and a goodnight from the red head

You step down with the help of Billy and Steve as Eddie comes out from under the bed all four of you sharing a look before bursting out laughing “Billy your face was so funny” you cackle much to Billy’s dismay “hey I wasn’t the one screaming like a girl” he looks towards Steve who puts his hands up in defense “at least I didn’t hide under the bed” all of you look over at Eddie who just flips you all off

You yawn “I’m going to bed makes sure to clean up the mess or it’ll stain” you shuffled out of the room only to be followed by the three boys unknown to you. You began getting undressed turning around to grab a shirt only to be met with the three boys who stood in the doorway “Jesus!“ you shout immediately covering your chest “why are you covering up its not like we haven’t seen it before” Billy teases before brushing past you climbing into your bed followed by the other two who make themselves comfortable “so y’all are just gonna sleep in here then?” You turn to stare at them once you pull on a shirt “yup” “yeah” “definitely” before they all drag you in with them smooshing you between them followed by a series of good nights and soft kisses this was the best part of your night routine cuddling up with your favorite boys

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie st4 #eddie munson stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie my beloved #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove stranger things #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 49

part 1 | part 48 | ao3

cw: angst, canon-typical violence

It's a totally normal Tuesday the day it all starts going to shit.

Eddie's got a show at The Hideout, and Wayne's got a rare night off, so Steve's at his boyfriend's place without him catching a basketball game with Wayne and Ernie. He did try to go to the show, to be fair; wanted to, but Eddie took one look at the way he was cradling the side of his head and winked at him to "sit this one out, big boy," so here he is: drinking beer with two old men and watching the most frustrating game he's seen all season.

"Oh, what the hell was that?" he begs the tiny screen, jumping out of his seat to pace a tight circle and rake his hands over his scalp hard enough to pluck a few strands. Beside him, Ernie shakes his head and mutters "goddamn disgraceful, that's what" and in the kitchen Wayne munches happily on a fresh plate of nachos, taps his bald head with a half-eaten chip and warns, "Quit tuggin' at your hair 'fore you wind up lookin' like this."

"Whatever, old man." Steve rolls his eyes, but he loosens his grip. Drags his hands down his face instead. "Don't act like you're not loving this."

Wayne laughs, a broad, smug smile that's pure Munson mischief. "Never claimed otherwise," he says, then he pops a cigarette in his mouth and tells them to get their wallets ready.

Bastard. His team's doing fine tonight. (And sure, the bet was only five dollars, but it's a point of pride, damn it.)

Steve turns his attention back to the game, where the ref is making yet another call that's so laughably bad Steve's not sure how he isn't getting decked for it. A stray elbow to the face, at least. Fucking something.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbles; still pacing, arms crossed. "If they don't fire this idiot, I swear..."

He turns to Ernie for back up; remembers that Ernie's got a lapful of Misty the cat right now and quickly looks away. Creepy little thing still freaks Steve out (even if Ernie's stroking her fur like she's a harmless stress toy and not the razor-clawed, rat-chomping demon she really is.) He still can't look at her. Gets queasy just thinking about all the "presents" she's left him since he moved in.

Ernie catches the way his shoulders tense. "Didn't think you'd be afraid of a little pussy," he teases, scratching the cat behind her ears.

Misty gives a low rumble of approval.

Steve's stomach flips. "Whatever," he scoffs, looking anywhere but at them. "That thing's bad luck. No wonder we're losing."

He settles back into his seat, and the game goes on — and on, and on, until the score gets so embarrassing that Steve considers just getting up and yanking the TV plug out of the wall, or maybe storming out of the place in protest — and he's about to beg Wayne for mercy, ask him to change the station to anything else, when the front door opens so softly it sets off alarm bells in his head.

Steve whips around at the lack of sound. Knows immediately that something is wrong, because Eddie Munson doesn't do quiet. Eddie Munson comes home like fireworks going off: Crack! Whizz! Bang! He's always a burst of noise and energy; he's a fucking racket; Wayne's said so a million times — muttered it angrily when Eddie's music keeps him up, grumbled it fondly over breakfast while he tries to stop himself from falling asleep face-first in a plate of eggs.

Tonight Eddie comes home quiet as a thief. A mouse trying to evade the clutch of Misty's claws. His head's hung low as he shucks off his boots, his face obscured by frizzy hair.

Steve's across the room in a heartbeat.

"Baby?" he whispers, trying to peak behind the curtain. Eddie won't look at him, but his breathing sounds off; labored and whistling, and his hair is matted with something dark. "You okay?"

"Fine," Eddie croaks.

They both know it's a lie.

Steve lifts a hand to gently tip his chin up, but the moment his fingers graze skin Eddie winces and tugs away. "Okay," he says, pulling his hand back. "Okay, I'm sorry, just— can you look at me? Please?" He softens his voice, tries to coax Eddie out. You're safe here; you can trust me.

When Eddie finally looks up, Steve's heart lodges in his throat.

His face is ruined. Caked in dried blood, the skin below his left eye like an overripe eggplant: deep purple and threatening to split down the middle, to spill rotten juices all over the floor. There's a cut above his brow, another nick between his eyes, and— fuck.

His nose is broken.

Steve's gonna kill someone.

"Who did this to you?" he asks, deadly quiet. Whoever it is, they're not living to the morning. Steve's got a car and a nail bat and a boy with a broken nose, and he's going to kill whoever did this to him. "Eddie." He grips his biceps; shakes him a little. Insists. "Eddie, tell me who did this!"

Eddie hiccups a weak sob. Lips shiny with blood and tears, and Steve lets go; feels horrible for making it worse, for letting his anger get the best of him. He wraps Eddie up a gentle hug, cradles him against his chest and doesn't care if Ernie sees. He doesn't give a damn.

"Fucking—" Eddie grunts against Steve's shirt, his teeth chattering around the word. His throat clicks when he swallows. Sticky with blood and phlegm.

Hospital, Steve thinks. Blood loss; sepsis; shock.

Eddie gulps a ragged breath and tries again. "Fucking assholes," he gets out, "they took our- t-took our—" The words cut off with a pained whimper, and he breaks down and just cries. Cries and cries until the heaving subsides, until it lessens to muted trembling in Steve's arms. There's fresh blood on his shirt.

Eddie's blood is on his shirt.

He looks up, eyes wet and wide, and then Wayne's there; two strong, weathered hands firm on Eddie's shaking shoulders. "Is it bad?" he asks Steve. No nonsense; demanding answers. Decorated veteran.

Steve nods without a word.

"C'mon, kid," Wayne soothes. "Let's get you cleaned up."

—

part 50

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #my writing #my fic

[lesbiancassius]

Hamlet @ the Stratford Festival

I had the chance to catch Hamlet at Stratford this year, and oh my God, Amaka Umeh is a force of fucking nature and probably the best Hamlet i’ll ever see in my life. It was overall a very good production despite some Stratford Festival-itis and directed by a man disease, mostly because Amaka Umeh...was on stage. 

oh no, tumblr user lesbianedmund! you cry. i don’t live in canada and/or i don’t have the money to see it!!. fear not. i took copious notes. also it’ll probably be online w/ stratfest @ home, so eventually it may be dispersed to the masses. and you can watch Amaka Umeh do to be or not to be in 2020. it’s amazing. all the details are beneath the cut and there are many.

first off. Amaka Umeh (she/they/he) is the most amazing Hamlet I have ever seen. They are the definitive Hamlet. Why are we still making Hamlets when their Hamlet exists. She delivered monologues in ways I never thought of. She was so alive as Hamlet it was insane. For real I think they’re the best actor I’ve ever seen. Adjoa Andoh type of compelling. I don’t think I can really exaggerate how fantastic he is.

before you ask: no Fortinbras. Gertrude could not see the ghost. Gertrude knew the wine was poisoned. Hamlet’s madness was not really fake. Ophelia did not hear to be or not to be.

overarching thoughts: so much Stratford Festival syndrome acting in this. ie boring as fuck acting. like they’re saying words. they’re even saying the words really well. but jesus christ it’s so boring. it feels so dead and i can’t put my finger on why. hate it

Hamlet was beyond amazing. Horatio was good, Laertes was good, loved the players scene (SOOOO amateur theatre it was perfect down to the ukulele), r&g were good, Polonius i warmed up to, Claudius, Gertrude*, and Ophelia were just so boring, ghost was too standard ghost-y & i hated that. also, I think it didn’t do its women very well

* I saw a Gertrude understudy, and not Maev Beaty, so my Gertrude thoughts might be different than someone who saw the main cast Gertrude

there was really annoying underscoring at some parts, especially the ending. fuck underscoring in theatre i didn’t come to see a movie i came to see a PLAY

before the play started there was a glass rectangular coffin on stage with the dead Hamlet Sr in it. the set had two levels and it’s a thrust kind of stage. on the top level there was two-way glass making a little box kind of deal which could be mirrors or another part of the stage very cool

the second scene opened with the coffin of Hamlet’s father being covered with a tablecloth and Hamlet was standing at the end of it (back to centre audience) and was very upset

everyone gathered around to clink their glasses but Hamlet just leant back in his chair and drank the whole glass. Laertes was wearing a shirt with butterflies on it under his suit? fashion icon

just the way ‘a little more than kin and less than kind’ was delivered was my first clue that this was going to be something absurdly fantastic. Hamlet did the whole thing very obviously grief-stricken. half his lines sounded like he was about to burst into tears and it was just. so. good.

the ‘o’ in o that this too too sullied flesh was so raw. that’s how you do the shakespeare guttural ‘o’ sound. yeah. also the o god! god! was delivered almost like protesting the fixing canon gainst self slaughter part. so good.

Laertes and Hamlet had a secret handshake which was hilarious

Ophelia and Hamlet made out with ophelia sitting on the coffin table which is. something i mean we know that hamlet thinks that’s his dad’s coffin so.

when Hamlet says ‘methinks i see my father’ to horatio, he whips the tablecloth off the table and

IT’S JUST A NORMAL TABLE. NO DEAD FATHER. IT DID NOT MOVE. GOD I LOVE THEATRE AND PRACTICAL EFFECTS.

and then the ‘in my mind’s eye’ was very rushed and Hamlet was clearly stunned by the fact that it wasn’t the coffin.

the ghost was really boring however the super low fog rolling across the steps of the stage looked fantastic. also the ghost of Hamlet Sr. saw Gertrude and Claudius like. making out in the two way glass cube

the Polonius and Reynaldo scene was actually kind of funny! however I think Polonius losing his train of thought should maybe have been sprinkled a little more through the play because my aunt thought the actor just corpsed lmao

Hamlet’s letters were all texts

to overhear Hamlet, Polonius called Claudius and put his phone in his pocket and Claudius and Gertrude went out in the hall. Polonius stood under the top layer of the stage, and then

enter Hamlet above doing to be or not to be. they moved it! wild. 

i reallllllly wish they did more with this. like how worried is Gertrude now? give me more. but super interesting in concept? however ‘Hamlet is a suicide text, it’s time to teach it like one’ has given me strong opinions about ophelia having to be there for the monologue

and then Hamlet went into his fake madness and messed around with Polonius. all of Polonius’ asides were done to the phone in his pocket.

Rosencrantz hit his juul like 8 times during this scene. also r&g and Hamlet had a secret handshake too.

the players were fun. the one guy started doing all the world’s a stage before hamlet got him doing the right monologue

they put this weird little like mic pack on Ophelia’s thigh and then she had a little thing around her neck or ear? so they could listen in?

going to be honest i don’t know why they did this. did you just want ophelia to untie her wrap dress. this is what i mean about directed by a man disease

Hamlet was just so confused about everything and then lashed out it was. ow. dude i don’t think this is a joke anymore ahahah

also when Hamlet said as a crab move backwards he took a selfie with Polonius. that whole bit was so fuckign funny

Horatio filmed Claudius on a phone during the mousetrap

Polonius pretended to be stabbed when he was reenacting being Julius Caesar it was funny he did et tu brute and Hamlet pretended to cut his throat

also the band played that ushering in music they play outside of the theatre (bc stratfest is like that) before the play for the mousetrap except now they have Danish flags on their instruments instead of stratfest ones

the play opened with four of the players on stage one of them playing the ukulele and singing a goofy song it was SO amateur theatre

when Claudius shouted for the lights to come up the house lights came up and it was intermission

Claudius’ ‘my offence is rank’ monologue was done TO Polonius!! he confessed to Polonius! and Hamlet didn’t hear it at all.Cclaudius was clearly kind of torn up about what he did and feeling guilt but he was still boring. lol

Polonius was shot through a curtain and Lo And Behold he was shot in the place where Hamlet pretended to stab him while he was pretending to be caesar

Gertrude also could not see the ghost and hamlet was so distraught

Hamlet was almost apprehended by some guards while he was walking around waving a gun after killing Polonius and he set it on the ground then went BLEH!!! and ran off

in the two way glass box we saw Ophelia discover the dead body of Polonius and she screamed but instead of noise it was like this cool discordant trumpet sound?

Ophelia was so boring. like it was just not. also she was wearing a medical gown and…an ankle monitor?

when Laertes came back he was wearing a puffer jacket and a black bucket hat.

i think he and fanny pack Tybalt from the 2021 r+j would be friends

the first gravedigger had his worksuit unzipped and he had a skull tattoo also the other gravedigger was actually the priest. he was smoking

at the ‘a tanner will last you nine year’ Hamlet and the gravedigger (who are both dark-skinned and playing on the word tanner as in darker not like profession) fist-bumped

alas poor Yorick was delivered kind of sadly at the start? was very very very good

when Hamlet realized the funeral was Ophelia’s he just hugged Horatio for a very long time :((

you know Amaka Umeh is a great actor bc they managed to deliver ‘would eat a crocodile’? as frightening. not a SINGLE PERSON laughed in the whole ass festival theatre.

when the duel was proposed to Hamlet, Horatio kept gesturing ‘no’ and shaking his head

at some point hamlet kissed Horatio on the cheek but i don’t remember where

Laertes accepted Hamlet’s apology and they did their handshake again

also, at the start Hamlet was in all black and now he’s in all white: Laertes was in red, then white and black, and now all black.

Gertrude realized the drink was poisoned and stopped hamlet from drinking, and the i will my lord was super interesting.

also Claudius kind of willingly drank the poison

the final monologues from Hamlet are something i WISH i could just revisit again and again they were so well done. so complex. not just one note i’m dying but fear and wonder and amazement and collapsing and oh god it was AMAZING. Horatio held Hamlet and the final ‘the rest is silence. O!’ was done almost with euphoria? like it was just so beautiful and interesting

it ended with ‘flights of angels’, lights went down for a moment then picked back up in a strobe thing and we saw the shadow of king hamlet and Horatio goes “who’s there?”

what the fuck. what the fuckkkkkk. cyclical nature of tragedy *starts bawling*

it was so good i forgot they cut fortinbras

#hamlet #stratford festival #it was so good but only bc of amaka umeh. stratford festival you should #hire actors who aren't 45 more often #june.txt

[coyotescribbles]

I'M NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING ON THIS FIC BUT THIS SCENE WOULDN'T LEAVE ME ALONE

-----

The bass was still thundering when they hit the highway leading out of town, and Miscreant put the pedal to the metal. His engine roared as the landscape blurred around them, and the wind whipped Ruby's hair around her face.

She couldn't help it; leaning back in the seat, she flung her arms out with a howl of delight.

Miscreant just laughed, accelerating along the straightaway.

In the near distance, another vehicle came into view - a now-familiar green SUV, she realized with a groan - and the timbre of his engine shifted slightly.

Surging forward, Miscreant closed the distance between them, then shifted into the opposite lane to pull up alongside Bulkhead.

♫♪Wonderful bars, fat like Michael's arse!♪♫ blared over the speakers.

Then, putting on another burst of speed, Miscreant pulled ahead and, in a maneuver that made Ruby glad she'd fastened her seatbelt, turned one hundred and eighty degrees without so much as slowing down, ending up back in the right lane while driving backwards, nearly nose-to-nose with Bulkhead.

♫♪This is an announcement: Please refrain from not smoking!♪♫

"Jesus CHRIST, Missy!" Ruby laughed, throwing her head back when he dipped his left headlamp in a "wink."

They were both cackling madly as he spun into a second one-eighty and sped away.

#fanfic #transformers fanfiction #blurb #transformers prime #transformers ocs #Miscreant #Ruby Wilder #Missy shamelessly flirts with Bulkhead sldkfjsd #It's all good (Wrecker) fun #Bonus points if you can name the song Missy's playing lmao

[live-laugh-loverpool]

Twas Christmas Eve

Tags: @millythegoat, @alissonbecksfan234, @moomin279, @lfc-fanfiction, @rist-mlts

The Liverpool Christmas Eve party had been a real bash. Music blared from the speakers—Tsimikas was the DJ, as usual—and the light show, managed by Taffarel, was exceptional. Carvalho and Elliott were quickly turning out to be some of the best dancers in the team, and they only further proved that point during the party. But the real stars of the dance floor had to be Klopp and Florrie. The pair, who were fifty-two years apart in age, had attempted a “dance” that everyone had found adorable.

But now, after all the music, dancing and holiday snacks and treats, it was time to go to bed. And for six young children who’d stayed up way past their bedtime and had way too much sugar, that proved to be especially hard.

“When’s Santa coming?” Florrie asked for the fiftieth time that night. She clutched her stuffed llama, Senor Mullido, in both hands. “I wanna see Santa!”

“But Santa only comes when we’re asleep,” Kanchana pointed out, tucking Kairo in next to Florrie. “And he’s going to leave coal for the good girls and boys, and presents for the naughty ones.”

“Chan! The good kids get presents and the bad ones get coal,” Vera corrected her wife. “And you kids are all good boys and girls. So good, right CeCe?”

Grace replied by sticking her tongue out, bouncing on the crib mattress while holding onto the rails.

“What about Kostas?” Kairo snuggled up to his unofficial twin sister, fluffy hair peeking out from the blanket. “He should get a whole sack of coal for his rap song earlier today.”

“Robbo definitely wasn’t enchanted.” Kanchana laughed, fluffing Florrie’s pillows. “Sorry for the confusion. Back in Thailand, most of us don’t celebrate Christmas.”

Florrie frowned in confusion. She’d seen Salah’s Eid-al-Fitr decorations, and Henderson had shown her Hanukkah decorations while they’d been Christmas shopping. But Salah celebrated Christmas with the others, and she’d seen an old Jewish couple who lived near Kirkby lighting a menorah and a Christmas tree.

“Most of the Thai are Buddhists, just like me,” Kanchana explained, taking a seat on the bed. Vera sat next to her, leaning on the taller woman’s shoulder.

“Of course, not all of us are Buddhists. Some celebrate Christmas just like we are doing here. But for Buddhists, one of the most important holidays is Bodhi Day.” Kanchana smiled, touching her stomach for the fifth time that night.

Florrie raised an eyebrow at the strange behavior. Kanchana hadn’t done that before, not even when she’d come to Liverpool for the first time and caught a stomach virus.

“What that?” Henrietta piped up from her crib. The one-year-old hadn’t fallen asleep either. She was still jumpy and bright-eyed from all the sweetened whipped cream and strawberry jam she’d licked from the plate of eclairs.

“Just like Christians have Jesus Christ, Buddhists have Gautama Buddha as their leader and founder. Bodhi Day, simply put, is the day that the Buddha reached Nirvana. And this year we’re celebrating on December 30.”

“Yay! Can we celebrate too? Do we decorate a tree? And make cookies, sing songs, and get presents?” Florrie felt like she could burst, she had so many questions.

“Well, we do decorate a tree. So you got that one right,” said Kanchana. “But it’s not a pine tree, it’s actually a Bodhi tree. We’ll decorate it with lights and statues of the Buddha.”

“But where would we get a Bodhi tree?” Kairo wondered aloud. “We don’t have a Bodhi tree.”

“But we do!” Vera pointed out the window, which overlooked the garden. “Do you remember the fig tree in the greenhouse?”

“Oh, yeah!” said Florrie. “Mo’s had it since he was at Melwood, right?” 

Kanchana nodded. “Indeed, he’s been growing the tree under special conditions so it’s small enough to take care of here. And that just happens to be the same thing as a Bodhi tree!” She glanced at the clock on the wall, frowning. “And you‘d all better be going to sleep. I don’t think the others would be too happy if we kept you up.”

 One by one, Kanchana and Vera kissed the children goodnight, leaving the room hand in hand. “Goodnight, children. Happy Christmas Eve, and tomorrow morning will be full of surprises.”

Florrie yawned, snuggling under the covers. Somehow, Kanchana and Vera’s story had made her sleepy. “Goodnight, Tante Vera. Goodnight, Auntie Chan.”

*

A strange noise awoke Florrie from her slumber. She yawned and glanced at the clock. It said 2:45.

The strange noise came again, and Florrie realized that it sounded like footsteps. But it couldn’t be—the only ones who could be awake at this time were Henderson and Klopp, and both of them had been exhausted when the Christmas party finally ended.

A figure caught Florrie’s eye, moving in the dark. She gasped, diving under the blankets. Before she could yell for the adults, a dim yellow light shone on her pillow.

“Kairo?” Florrie whispered, wrapping her green butterfly blanket around her shoulders. “What are you doing awake?”

“Let’s explore!” Kairo pointed outside the door, where a faint glowing light cast long shadows across the walls. “The grownups left the Christmas lights on, they look so pretty in the dark.”

Florrie grabbed Senor Mullido from the bed, tiptoeing to the door so as not to awake the younger kids. “Okay!”

They passed multiple rooms, including the players’ shared bedroom, the staffs’ rooms, and Arwen’s room. Everybody was asleep.

Finally, they tiptoed inside the rec room. As Kairo had said, the Christmas tree lights were still on.

Florrie scrambled onto one of the couches, setting Senor Mullido on her blanket. “It’s so pretty, Kairo.”

Kairo nodded, sitting next to Florrie. They quietly sat together in front of the tree, admiring the lights from afar. All was tranquil—nobody but Florrie and Kairo were awake.

Until a fat man in a red and white suit paraded through their door and tripped over the only electrical cord in the entire room.

Florrie gasped, prodding a dozing Kairo in the ribs. “Kai! Look at that.”

Kairo noticed, his childlike grin growing wider. “It’s Santa!”

Scrambling off the couch as fast as they could, the two children bolted for the man. They crashed into his padded legs, barely able to fit their arms around him.

“Santa! Is it you?” Kairo asked. He could hardly believe his eyes.

He laughed, slinging his toy sack over his shoulder with a wink. “Of course it is!”

Florrie stared at Santa, flabbergasted. “And you’re bringing presents?”

“Of course I am, ho-ho-ho! Good children get their presents on Christmas Eve, and you two have been very good this year, right?”

Florrie nodded, linking arms with Kairo. “The boss says that us and our cousins are lucky. That means we’ve got to be good!”

“Can we meet your reindeer?” Kairo tugged at Santa’s pant leg, momentarily pausing to stroke the red velvet and faux fur. “And get a selfie with Blitzen? Papi Milly says Blitzen’s the sarcastic one.”

“Well…” Santa stroked his beard, fiddling with his silver. “Sorry, kiddos, but the reindeer aren’t with me now.”

“But why?” Florrie asked, crossing her arms. “Daddy Hendo says that you only travel with the reindeer. Don’t reindeer like carrots and mincemeat pies?”

Santa shook his head, setting his toy sack down. “They do. But you know how people are, Florrie and Kairo. I’m sort of a celebrity in the world, and if the others saw me, I’d be too distracted to get my job done. That’s why I travel by night,” the portly gift-bringer explained with a hint of pride.

Florrie nodded, understanding the logic. Santa is a genius! “So how do you fit in? Dress like Kostas?”

“No, that’ll never do!” Santa chuckled. “When I’m here, I come in a black car so nobody suspects anything. I only use my reindeer up in the North where people use reindeer a lot.”

Kairo’s eyes widened. “Oh. That makes sense.”

“Glad it does!” Santa turned towards the Christmas tree, hoisting his sack again. “Now if you don’t mind children, I must get the presents under the tree and be on my way. There are at least 2 billion children on Earth right now and I need to get a move on. And you two need to get to bed so you’ll be awake on Christmas morning.”

Florrie yawned, suddenly realizing how tired she was. “We’ll let you do your job.” She and Kairo quietly tiptoed away from the room and back towards their bedroom. “Goodnight, Santa.”

Santa waved them off, opening his sack. Florrie tried to see what was inside, but the opening was positioned towards the Christmas tree.

*

Four hours later, Florrie and Kairo were sneaking around again. This time, though, they were accompanied by the other children and a few children at heart.

“Are you sure the gaffa isn’t going to be mad?” Ramsay whispered, ruffling Grace’s hair. “I mean, he seemed pretty tired yesterday.”

“The gaffa always wakes up early. This will be a piece of cake,” Robertson claimed. “Now, on the count of three!”

They pounced onto the still-asleep Klopp, shaking him and jumping on his bed. Finally, the German stirred, yawning. “What time is it?”

“Boss!” Kairo yelled, waving a pillow in the air. “It’s Christmas!”

Henrietta flopped next to Klopp, her little body quivering with joy. “Chri’mas, Opa, Chri’mas!”

“On the first day of Christmas, the Gaffa woke up! Hallelujah!” Robertson and Ramsay yelled at the top of their Scottish lungs. “Come on!”

Carvalho nodded eagerly, tugging on another Christmas sweater. “Let’s see what Santa brought us!”

“Lots and lots of gifts,” Florrie announced, matter-of-factly. “Kairo and I saw Santa last night, bringing us presents!”

“Santa?” Milner rolled his eyes, bouncing a grumpy Tristan. “No way. Only the naive believe in Santa.”

“Santa’s left me presents every single year without fail!” Carvalho argued. “He’s never missed a year, he does too exist!”

“We saw him yesterday!” Kairo insisted, crossing his arms. “He was wearing his suit, and he drives a black car—”

Henderson shook his head in amusement. “Now, now. What have I told you two about telling tales?”

Florrie pouted. She caught a sight of the chair in the corner, which held a red Santa hat.

Klopp yawned, propping himself up on one arm. “Come on Hendo, it’s Christmas! Magic can happen, you never know.”

Milner left the room grumbling, while Henderson led the others out, distracting them with talk of the upcoming festivities.

Florrie and Kairo were the last to leave the room. Just before they left, Florrie pointed out the hat to Kairo. Klopp saw the brief exchange between the two toddlers, but said nothing.

“Alright, I’m coming boys! Just give me a moment or two to change,” Klopp laughed upon hearing the players’ excited chatter. “Nobody needs to see me shirtless, or…”

Milner rolled his eyes, hurrying the others further down the hall. “We get it.”

Klopp turned to his closet and selected a snowman-themed Christmas sweater with jingling bells. It was rather…interesting, but the sweater had been a gift from Lijnders the previous Christmas and Klopp had promised he’d wear it.

Once he finished getting dressed, Klopp couldn’t help but notice the Santa hat still on his chair. Chuckling quietly to himself, he removed his felt reindeer-antler headband and slipped on the hat. Looking in the mirror, a very familiar face appeared in front of him.

“Now children, Santa drives a black car so nobody suspects anything. Ho-ho-ho!”

#precious florrie #florrie oc #kairo oc #jurgen klopp #james milner #jordan henderson #hendo #vera torres oc #kanchana nguyen oc #henrietta oc #liverpool fc #liverpool #lfc players #lfc #soccer fanfiction by lynn #soccer #soccer fanfiction #football imagine #football fanfic #football #football blurb

[biaswreckingfics]

I Loved, loved, loved this chapter so much. It was funny, cute and the flirty banter 👌🏽

I’ve watched enough American movies to know that…

a bunch of young + good looking + carefree people + cabins + a secluded area + beautiful scenery + a lake + alcohol + truth or dare = mayhem, mischief and lots of shenanigans 😏😉 or a serial killer’s heaven + shenanigans lol

"I'm gonna really miss being here and seeing you every day."… When the rest of the room zeroes in on you or looks between the two of you, you feel like you're going to burst into flames. "Me too."

‘You have an inkling that Sunwoo might share the same feelings that you do.’

….seriously?! ‘an inkling’ AN INKLING!!!! I swear y/n is slower than me at picking up hints lol

Him finding out her fave foods, finding any excuse to spend quality time with her, wanting to get to know her, punching and warning off the ex, exorcizing the devil from their apartment by telling her to leave, the almost kiss!!!! None of this clued her in on his feelings for her????!!!!! 🤦🏽‍♀️ he literally just said he’s going to miss her. I’m sure he didn’t say that to his last roommate lol

‘Is he bummed that you offered to sleep on the couch? Did he want to share a room with you?‘

"Why does she get the front seat?"

"Because she's nicer to look at than you are," Sunwoo comments’

‘Eric asks, "Did you two ever make out?"… "Why are you hitting me? You want to know too!"

Literally everyone can see their chemistry and yet y/n still has some doubts 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

‘Glancing over at Sunwoo, you see a smirk on his face, but you certainly don't expect him to say his next words.’

"Unfortunately, not yet."

Omfg!!!!!! HE SAID YET!!!!!!! That means he has plans to kiss her. Sunwoo stating his intentions from the start of the trip, I like it. That whole interaction had me giddy af.

‘Sophia follows after him, shooting a "you two are standing in his bedroom in a soon-to-be empty cabin" look. Exasperatedly, you roll your eyes and look back at Sunwoo, who's smirking in Sophia's direction.’

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 she’s as subtle as a sledgehammer

"Now, I will be offended if you don't like this because this is my special blend."

"What's so special about it?"… "It's made by me."

My absolutely filthy British mind went places it shouldn’t have… I’m sorry, I’ll see myself out 🫣

"Once again, your taste is impeccable."… "When was the first time it was impeccable?"… "When you said you liked me," he smirks.”

DUDE!!!!!!!!! Omg 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

I knew he’d tease her about that at some point. I wonder what else he’ll tease her about 🤔😏

"How do you like it?" Sunwoo asks, causing you to raise your brows… "How do I like what?" You mischievously respond… Sunwoo's head whips back toward you with a parted mouth. When he sees your amused look, he says, "Your smores, you little shit."… "However you give it to me, Sunwoo."… You hear him mutter under his breath. "Jesus christ."

This whole interaction had me smirking. I love that y/n had Sunwoo a lil flustered for once lol

How did you use so many innuendos without being corny?!!! You are truly an awesome writer.

‘You hold his stare as you take a bite of the sweet treat, but your eyes fall closed as the flavor explodes in your mouth.’

You hum as you swallow. "Wow, that's good."

"Yeah, it is." Sunwoo's voice comes out a bit choked, and you open your eyes to look at him. He clears his throat and hands you the rest of your smore so he can assemble his own.’

God bless drunk Changmin for letting it slip that Sunwoo talks about y/n so much, to the point where everyone just assumes she’s his girlfriend 😂

It’s interesting… both acknowledging, but neither of them disputing the girlfriend label …interesting 😏

"So, you think I'm pretty?"…. "I think you're beautiful."

No wonder he had some many women falling at his feet, he’s a sweet talker!!! He’s being genuine with her tho

"I don't think you're a dick or an asshole. There was a time I thought you were a whore, though."… "Just like a tiny bit of a whore."

Well, she’s not wrong, he was 🤏🏽 of a hoe 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

"You didn't care about my reputation, and you didn't try to get in my pants like every other girl that spends time with me.”

I’ll be honest, I didn’t really think about how Sunwoo would be feeling. I thought that he was just using these women as a distraction from his issues. I didn’t take the time to think that maybe he was feeling somewhat used too. It’s pretty sad he probably felt reduced to a sexual play thing for those women and nothing more. The fact y/n did the bear minimum by getting to know him as a person warrants high praise from him is just disheartening.

Omg the ending!!! What’s the family friendly version of blue balls?!! That is, what this is lol.

I’m guessing he didn’t kiss her as he wants to do everything the right way. He’s taking it seriously and doesn’t want to mess it up. Plus it’s literally the first night, there’s plenty of time for that. You’ll no doubt torture us with some more flirting, them being adorable with each other, while building up all that sexual tension some more.

Awesome chapter as usual, I’m really looking forward to the next chapter. I must say if someone doesn’t go skinny dipping at some point in the future updates, I’ll be kinda disappointed lol

Anyway there so many other things I wanted to comment on but this is long af already.

As usual I’ll leave you with Junho

The giant, stupid, dipshit grin I had on my face while reading this 🥴🥴 I'm not joking, my mouth started to hurt and I had to look into a mirror to see how crazed I looked lmao. You spoil me!!

Writing the banter between everyone was my favorite thing ever, and I think that's why I flew through this chapter so quickly!! Also, me, an American, reading that first paragraph 😈😈

YN is a little slow 😬😬 or maybe she just doesn't want to get her hopes up and keeps herself at a safe distance so doesn't get too hurt 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ (it's a combination of the two lol)

When Sunwoo told Eric that she's nicer to look at, the gif you put is exactly what I imagined her doing too lmao 😂😂 and we love our sledgehammer Queen Sophia 👏😂

HE SAID YET 👏👏 Boy has plans 👏👏 he has moves 👏👏 and I can't wait to write them lol. Istg if I heard him say that about me, I would melt into a puddle ON THE SPOT. He wouldn't even get a chance to make those moves 😭😭

Sidenote: you're British? Did I know this?? Lol

That smore innuendo moment had me sitting there like 😏😏 atta girl, get his ass lmao. I'm glad you enjoyed it, bc I certainly did lol

Once again, your gifs are always on point, and the drunk Changmin moment was fun to write!! The fact that they just went along with it and did a little word play was 🤌🤌

I think Sunwoo started his hoe phase as a partial distraction, but the longer it went on, the more he just felt used and worthless. He's got YN now, though! He just has to put it on lock!!

He's taking everything seriously and wants everything perfect 🥺🥺. Plus, you're right, it's only the first night 😈😈. There's plenty of time 😈😈 for something 😈😈 to happen 😈😈, and yes this is a giant blue ball chapter lmao

Ugh, a little Junho to make me even more 🥰🥰❤️❤️

#monbabyzshoebill #blurred lines love

[shammah8]

"As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for You, my God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God? My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me all day long, “Where is your God?”"

Psalm 42:1-3

EMPTINESS AND FILLING

Ron Boyd-MacMillan writes in his epic volume, Faith That Endures:

 

I remember interviewing a former Muslim extremist in Egypt. He had converted to Christ in his early twenties and led a Church for Muslim converts. This is illegal in Egypt, and the fellowship was betrayed to the police. Soon this young man found himself in prison. He was tortured. An electric cattle prod was pushed into his mouth. He was whipped and hung from the ceiling with his hands tied behind his back. But all this paled into insignificance compared to what other prisoners called “the experience.” He was pushed into a stone box, a cube about five feet square. No light. No latrine. And he was left there for a month, food being passed through a grate every few days. Most prisoners went mad as a result of “the experience” — but not him.

 

He found Christ there, and the words he used to describe his experience are still the most brilliant description of the process of how persecution actually delivers more of God:

 

“In great suffering you discover a different Jesus than you do in normal life. Normally we are able to hide from ourselves who we really are and what we are really like. The ego is well defended. But pain changes all that. Pain and suffering bring up to the surface all the weak points of your personality. You are too weak to mount the usual defenses, and you just have to gaze at what you are really like. I was a wreck in that cell. I was reduced to tears all the time. Crying, weeping, sobbing, wailing in the never-changing utter darkness.

 

“I came face-to-face with how awful I really was. I saw all the horrible things I had done, all the horrible things I was. I kept seeing myself again and again. But just as I was about to collapse into complete despair and self-loathing—and probably die—an incredible realization burst into the cell like an exploding star. It was this: Jesus loved me even right then, as I sat in my own filth, weak, helpless and broken, empty and sinful. Even in that state, He loved me, and Christ rushed in and filled me, and the filling was so great because I was so empty.” [28]

Response

Today I realize that God can use persecution to draw people closer to Himself. I will “fix my eyes on Jesus” to accept my awfulness and His filling.

Prayer

Thank You Lord that You fill us when we are truly empty. Help me not to hide my real condition from myself and before You.

28 Ron Boyd-MacMillan, Faith That Endures (Grand Rapids: Fleming Revell, 2006), p. 319-320.

© 2013 Open Doors International. Used by permission.