#old crappy edit

[twisting-echo]

I found this really old manip in my editing software drafts—made it over a year ago—and completely forgot what I had planned to say about it. No doubt it had something to do with Disney Mirrorverse and Snow White, but I wish I could remember what was going on here! 😂

Though I do vaguely recall something about Kuzco interrupting Snow White's lunch with Hades, Stitch, and Tinker Bell just to flirt, sing, and dance with her in his pajamas… so maybe that was part of it? 🤣

[demonslayedher]

Now entering busiest time of year, at my most important fandom time. No telling yet what my schedule holds for July 18, 19, 20, etc...

[chestersbraincell]

Here it is, the belated acursed birthday gift

Happy Birthday Orlam 😈

[i-mas]

HARUKA AMAMI / 天海春香 ❤️

[thatgecko0606]

No bond is stronger than a girl and a 20-year-old game that she’s never played and has only watched videos on.

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Crona

Tried to edit a picture I drew years ago.

[mallardducksaysquack]

You are very welcome.

old man yaoi this middle aged man yaoi that. okay how about grandma yuri

[pardycity]

decided 2 pull out my windows 7 laptop. its pleo time.

[thecodeveronica]

How are there still PS3 system software updates from time to time? Every time I happen to get on my PS3 and see one, I'm always so afraid that this will be the update that somehow bricks my sweet old baby

[leeechin]

꫶ུ⃛ᰭ STICKY ! [nerd jay]

sucking off the reserved, yet confident nerd at some random room at a party. [wc 0.9k]

content— this was taken out of a fic i never finished writing lol.. so sort of nerd jay agenda (?), pure smut, literally no plot. mdni.

warnings— oral (m.rec), jay has a nasty mouth, bigdick!jay ofc, degradation, etc.

lee’s note: this is literally SO old but i edited this so hopefully it’s better. but for now, enjoy this until another fic comes out lololol 👤 [ masterlist ⭑ ]

faint sounds of crappy music at some random house party plays in the background behind a closed empty room, you're messily kissing jongseong. the kiss is filled with desire and desperation, jongseong's tongue entering your mouth, dancing with yours. a whine erupting from your mouth against jongseong's, hands exploring each other’s body to feel more.

you wanted, no needed more of jongseong. pulling away from the kiss, your face is filled with desperation. "you already look so ruined, and i haven't done anything to you yet." jongseong teases, pulling your camisole down to reveal your lacy bra, groaning at the sight of your tits practically spilling out and dangling in front of him.

one of jongseong's hands is fumbling with your nipple at one of your breasts, roughing pulling and twisting at the sensitive nub, as his other is holding at your waist, leading you to the bed. you gasp at the intensity, feeling his lips trail down your neck to nibble at the soft skin.

you never wanted this to end. your hands pushing his plaid shirt off his shoulders, trailing under his tank top and tracing your fingers on his toned muscles. his glasses still on his face but softly tilted, what a sight. you couldn't help but let out a small moan at view.

standing up tall, jongseong unbuckles his belt, pulling his jeans down to reveal his extremely huge bulge that was hidden under his boxers. your jaw dropped, not expecting this from the quiet boy that sat next to you in english.

jongseong has been with his fair share of girls. but, no woman has ever made him crave something so bad until you. brushing off his nerves, he goes back to his unreadable cold face, "want a taste?" you're quick to nod in response, practically throwing yourself off the bed, getting help from jongseong to pull your camisole off your body, only leaving your upper half with your lacy white bra. on your knees looking up to jongseong, big doe eyes blinking for permission to remove his boxers.

"this dicks' not gonna get sucked by itself, i know you've been wanting this." jongseong taunts, he doesn't know if it's the alcohol in his system making him speak like this. but regardless, his eyes locked in on you, he's fighting back a moan at the sight of your lipgloss that was smudged on your lips from kissing him so intensely earlier. pulling down his boxers, his erection springs out, tall and thick. you pause for a moment. jongseong's bigger than anyone you've ever taken before.

"what? not big enough for you?" jongseong teases, a playful smirk playing on his face as he notices you just staring at his veiny length dumbly. "no.. it's too big." you reply, thighs rubbing together as you think about the stretch. jongseong laughs in response, bringing one of his hands to cup at the side of your face. "cmon baby, blow me." you're quick to spit into one of your small hands, rubbing his base while you gave kitten licks to his angry pink tip leaking precum, the sudden contact causing jongseong to hiss through his clenched teeth.

you found the way he was talking so hot, only spurring you to bring everlasting pleasure to jongseong, obliging every single one of his requests. deciding to finally take jongseong into your mouth. you feel him let out a a guttural groan at the warmness of your mouth, moving one of his hands to your hair to make a messy makeshift ponytail, tugging the silky strands softly.

you’re choking almost halfway down, "slutty mouths’ already struggling." he tsks, tapping the side of your cheek softly to open up wider so that he could fuck your face. you whine around his length at his words, sucking harshly and taking as much of him as you can in your mouth, looking up to jongseong with tears swelling your eyes as he sets to a slow pace, gradually increasing as he chases for his own pleasure.

"oh shit, you do take me so well." jongseong groans, both his hands holding your cheeks, increasing the pace of his thrusts, your gags and chokes spewing him on further. you grow more needy, rubbing your thighs together seeing how his glasses were lopsided on his face as he got lost in the pleasure of your mouth wrapped around his length, a string of protests leaving your mouth as, jongseong pulls out, making you whine at the fact he didn't finish in your mouth. "such a needy girl." he laughs, stroking himself slowly to the sight of your once well maintained figure, to a disheveled one.

"please in my mouth ‘seong." you whisper, hands fiddling with the back of your bra clasp and unclipping it. your tits now free from the material. the nickname that fell from your lips and simply, sight of your tits was enough for jongseong not to resist. letting go of his length and holding your face close to it. "open up again, pretty." you obey his words, taking as much as you could as you bobbed your head fast, with the help of jongseong's thrusts, he wasn't too far away from finishing, especially with the way your mouth was giving him harsh sucks that made jongseong feel like he was in heaven.

"what a fucking mess."

LOL sorry i know it’s not finished but i haven’t dropped a fic in so long….. wrote this for @pshbites and @00kittenz ily guys sm 💞💞

[kumasakka]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 ! ❞

⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. a.shin x reader .

⋆.˚ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. he laid his eyes on you the first time you stepped into the shop and you were a different kind of beauty .

⋆.˚ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. ~0.8k .

⋆.˚ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. eesome — (adj.) pleasing to the eye. written to be fluff, kinda plantonic though. f!reader. crack. written in 3rd pov. spoiler - free. safe for minors! crappy writing ( when was the last time I wrote? ). edited.

　BEAUTIFUL. That was the only thought that crossed Asakura Shin's mind as soon as a beautiful girl set a foot into the store, Sakamoto's store, the self-proclaimed no. 1 safest shop in Japan. It was kinda true though with the legendary, ex-hitman Sakamoto Taro working here, assisted by Asakura Shin himself, it must be the safest shop. Well but come back to the present.

His black eyes followed her figure, unfortunately not being able to catch a glimpse of her face and yet he could already tell that she was a different kind of beauty. She wore an old-fashioned white dress, matching her big white hat made out of sinamay that covered her face while she gracefully carried herself in those cinderella high heels through the whole shop.

Shin would bet that she could probably afford other luxuries in those expensive, extravagant shops, so why was she here? Nonetheless he won't judge. After all, here is a pretty customer. As much as he wanted to ask for her number, he didn't dare to be near her, only waiting behind the counter while gripping onto the wooden table with his sweaty hands. God. He wants to read her mind, but he also didn't want to read her mind.

What if she thinks he's ugly? What if she was thinking bad about him in general? No, no. He will not hear those thoughts voluntarily.

"Excuse me?"

Not wasting a second, Shin immediately lifted his head and parted his lips to answer. "W— hi." he stuttered and greeted her with an easy-going hi as if they were good friends. Not once did Shin feel more embarrassed than right now. Oh god. The heck? He shuts his eyes for a second to calm himself down before opening his eyes again. What was your expression? How he would've loved to finally see her face.

"How can I help you?"

"Oh umm... I'm here to pay for my things, but I assumed you spaced out." her voice was smooth.

But he didn't have much time to think about that fact as his gaze sank down to the counter. Right. "S-Sorry..." he apologized, beet red because of the downright embarrassment while taking the scanner into one hand and the other grabbed the items. The silence was loud. His mind was racing with multiple thoughts while he silently hoped to see her face, wishing that she would lift her head anytime soon before she leaves the shop.

And somehow, god heard his prayers. The woman looked up the next moment, the shadow of her hat covered the upper part of her face. His black eyes met stoic, [e/c] ones. Wow. 'Beautiful.' was his thought—the thought he quietly whispered under his breath. And as soon as he realized that he said it out loud, he quickly looked down to your items again, his face red again, too shy to meet your gaze again.

"T-That makes 3.550¥ in dollar!" Shin said.

The sound of bills and coins being placed on the small silver tray and the rustling of the plastic bag being taken into hands echoed in his ears. "...Thank you for your purchase! Please visit us again." it's a line he says everyday, yet somehow it felt heavier than usual to let those daily words out of his mouth today. Shin didn't dare to meet her gaze again, leaving his head down as he waited for her to leave the shop.

'Cute.' ah, seems like he couldn't help himself but peek into her mind to get a taste of her thoughts. Short after hearing her thoughts, he looked up with slightly widened eyes. Did she just call him cute? "Could you please ring this up too?" she asked and placed a cat keychain on the counter, getting out her purse again. Lost in thoughts, he stood there for a while and stared at the woman. Well, he was staring for too long now.

　BEEP !

"Huh?!" Shin blinked rapidly and watched how she scanned the item herself. "W-What are you doing, ma'am?!"

"I helped myself..." she placed the money on the small silver tray again before she pointed the scanner at him and—

　BEEP !

"Ring yourself up too." he cannot take her serious even though her face showed him plain plainness, the keychain already attached to her keys. "You look like this keychain."

"EHHH?!"

'SHE THINKS I'M CUTE?'

© 2024 kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work !

a/n — shin is such a cutie <33

[jazziejax]

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐙

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Bad Boys AU! Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC & Bad Boys AU! Aaron Pierre x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - A normal day for the FBI agents who bicker like a married couple is the first day of many odd ones for a rich and beautiful business woman. But let’s look into how they first met.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - cursing…a lot, mentions of people’s races, descriptions of appearances, mentions of escorting, food wasting, I hope that’s all but let me know if I missed anything.

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - I have a lot planned for this Bad Boys AU, and I’m gonna love every second of it. That’s is if I get to wiring it all….we’ll see. I don’t want to poor anything but this could be a love triangle or… something polyamorous. UNEDITED AS OF RIGHT NOW!!!, I really wanted to get this out because I was so exited about what you guys thought, it’s 2:13 am. Also, this could be read as an ‘x reader’ I try to tray away from detailed descriptions. I just like to use names because it’s easier for me, I know you are all sick and tried of the self inserts and OC’s. It’s just easier for me to add a name :(

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 4,282+

𝐌𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟓

“Does this spaceship have any damn air in it?” The man from the passenger seat with his shades on asked, his voice muffled as he chewed on his burger. The sun was beating down on them through the small car and the heat was causing him to become irritable.

The taller and lighter man glanced over at him, his hand on the steering wheel as he leaned back in his expensive leather seats. “Quit worrying about my air and start worrying about that food in my car.” He said, glancing back at the road before looking back over at the hungry man over his own shades. “What is this having a picnic shit in my car?” He asked.

Kelvin sighed, pushing his shades up to rest on his head. “Please man, not right now, not today.” He said, annoyance clear on his tongue as he looked over at his partner. “I’m not getting any at home, don’t deny me this.” He spat before moving to take another bite of his burger. The light-skinned man couldn’t help the small amused grin that made its way into his face. “I mean, yeah, how could you when you still live with your mother.” He chortled. Kelvin snapped his head over to him, his eyes sharp. “I do not live with my mother!”

“Yes, you do. You live with your whole damn family!”

“I do not! I bought my family a big ass house and this economy is shit, okay?” Kelvin stated through slightly clenched teeth. “I can’t keep taking women back to my crappy ass apartment that I got on my crappy ass cop salary!” He continued as Aaron sped through the sunny city in the Florida heat. Unbeknownst to both of them, a car was in their trail.

Aaron was about to respond again before he got distracted by the huge bite Kelvin took from the burger and the fries he stuffed from his lap. He scrubbed his lip over at him. “Could you watch it with all that shit, alright?” Kelvin rolled his eyes and threw his head back with a grin as she chewed his food. After swallowing, he gave the man next to him a dead stare.

“Where are your cup holders?” He asked, disregarding what the man said as he looked around the small car. Aaron trained his eyes back on the road, clenching his hands on the steering wheel. “I don’t have one.”

“The hell do you mean you don’t have one?” He asked, his face scrunched in pure befuddlement at what his friend was saying. “$80,000 for this car and you ain’t got no damn cup holders?”

“It’s $105,000 and this just happens to be one of the fastest production of cars on the planet,” Aaron told him confidently, speeding the old model sports car up on the road out of pure cockiness. “0-16 in four seconds, sweetie. It’s a limited edition.” He smirked.

“Limited?” Kelvin said. “You got damn right it’s limited. No cup holder, no back seat. This is a shiny duck with two chairs in it. And I guess that makes us the balls just dragging the fuck along, huh?” He hissed before he reached into his lap for some fries, but the fast car and his clumsy nature caused the fries to fall, falling out of the small carton box they were in. “Oh, damn.” He mumbled, shooting a glance at his driving friend. Aaron’s head quickly snapped over to him, looking between the spilled fries and his hungry partner. “Sorry.” Kelvin winced.

Aaron then quickly wrapped the sports car into the nearest sidewalk, parking the vehicle. He took his shades off, still looking between the food on his floor and the crevices in between with a sharp eye, and then back up at the quickly agitated man. “Get it up.” He said firmly. Kelvin scoffed, looking the man up and down as he held his half-eaten burger.

“Now I know you see I can’t get down there. There’s no place for me to sit anything with this shitty car of yours.” He spat. The pair were so caught up in their bickering that they still didn’t catch the car that’s been trailing them, park right when they did. “And you got a damn engineering floor up in here, my shit ain’t going down up in there.” He said, holding up his hand to show that it wouldn’t fit.

“You know what, I’m not your damn mama.” Aaron spat. “I shouldn’t be cleaning up after your filthy ass.” Kelvin immediately held his finger up to his face. “Keep my mother out of your mouth, A-A-Ron, I told you that.”

“Quit calling me that!”

“And watch my hand, okay?” Kelvin ignored him as he continued, moving to try and stuff his hand in between the seats. “It can barely get down there. And when it does, it gets stuck. And what does that make, you get this shit!” He chided, hosing up the same hand to show his now crooked and coned fingers, a small grinning his face. Aaron gave him a black stare, both of the men unbeknownst to the women coming down the sidewalk and the woman from behind them sent as a distraction.

“You gone get them fries,” Aaron told him.

And while they were absorbed within their world of car chat and being tailed, two women were walking down the street having a conversation of their own.

“Thanks again, Fab.” One of the women said, glancing next to her to see her friend licking away at the frozen cream treat in the sugar cone. “For the ice cream, I mean.” She mumbled, glancing back down her the pink ice cream she held in her fist. The other woman glanced over as she swept her fresh blow out from her face. “I told you it was no problem, Addy.” She shrugged before giving her double chocolate ice cream another lick, the Miami sun shining down on her bronze skin.

It was silent then, the pair listening to the sound of their shoes hitting the pavement, Addy’s kitten heels making small taps while Fabiola’s stilettos punted against the pavement in her tried strut. They enjoyed their treats under the blazing sun, ears tuned into the chirping grids, the sound of playing children, and the city life moving past them. The air was thick with tension, both of their thoughts filled with burning assumptions, unanswered questions, and overflowing uncertainty.

This was still new for them. All of it. Although Addison and Fabiola had been friends for a while, their new living situation was still a task to get around, and there were certain lines neither of them ever crossed. Knowing each other since junior year of college, most would say they were best friends with opposite personalities. Addy was an adrenaline junkie to her core. She spent most of her college time drinking and throwing ragers. She was known for her sweet personality and down with all the frats and sororities. And no matter how hard she partied, she never failed an exam. Essays might not have been her strongest suit but she was damn good with numbers.

Fabiola on the other hand was sort of the opposite. She had her fair share of nice times on campus but she wasn’t really a ‘people person’. Fabiola grew up as the youngest girl of three boys with a beautiful mother and a strict and traditional father. She was a bossy perfectionist with a small temper and a no-bullshit attitude. All that to say, she was spoiled rotten, and making friends didn’t come easy. She hadn’t had a consistent friend in her life up until college. Now, she wasn’t a complete loner, she had friends at school growing up, but she never went out of her way to hang out with any of them. She was focused on one thing and that was her career. After seeing her mom be a housewife for so long, she knew it was a life that she never wanted to live. So he had her group and stuck to them.

That was until she was almost failing trigonometry and everyone she knew was recommending the campus's famous engineering major, Addison Montez. They would meet in the library every Friday afternoon to study, and eventually Fab began to help Addy with her papers for history. They were studying friends until the oh-so-comfortable and relaxed Addison recommended they go out to a party instead of being trapped within the thick smell of old paper and stale wood. And after that homecoming rager that took place at the HBCU two miles out, let’s just say they were almost inseparable after that.

It’s been years since then though. Life got real for them quickly and it was hard to keep in touch. Fabiola went on to inherit most of the money of her father when he passed since two of her brothers ended up being absolute useless shits with no career and the eldest son ran the medical equipment company. All while her mother ran off to Switzerland to marry a rich white man who was also widowed. They all still kept in touch but things were a little odd now.

Addison’s life, on the other hand, went a little downhill. She was never able to her master's degree because she didn’t have the money to pay for college. Things got so stressful for her point that she had to drop out, which her folks were not happy about. She could only live in her small hometown in the middle of bun-fuck nowhere working at GoodWill for two years before she packed her things into her shit box of a car and ran. That’s how she ended up in Miami, in her little apartment now making more than she was at Goodwill, although life still wasn’t that great considering what she now did for money. And that didn’t last long because the building she lived in was sold and she now needed a place to crash until she collected more cash.

And after bumping into Fabiola at the lingerie store, things went from there. They were friends again after so long. Casual and lighthearted conversations filled their hearts pure.

But their forced proximity begged for more clarity.

Fabiola moved her brown leather bag to her other hand, slipping it into the cuff of her elbow as she continued to eat her ice cream, biting into the cone and then licking some of the cream that fell away from her deep red manicured nails. She then looked down at her outfit, making sure the dripping treat didn’t hit her nice sweater or her crisp white shirt under it. “Just say what you’re thinking Addison.” She said, not even looking over at her friend before going back to her ice cream once she saw her outfit was clear.

Addison glanced over at her, licking her ice cream at a slower pace as her mind became more closed with doubts. She had her arms crossed, her free hand against the hairs in her exposed arms, due to the black halter turtle neck she had on that matched her small black heels, all paired with simple jeans. “I just…you don’t know how much I appreciate you.” She said. Her words were met with a groan from Fabiola, the woman throwing her head back.

“Enough.” She said firmly, turning her head to her. “You’ve said thank you to me more than you’ve lived longer with me. And it’s been two weeks.”

“I know, I know,” Addy added in a dejected tone, only giving the strawberry-flavored dessert in her hand kitten licks. “It just really means a lot to me right now. You don’t even know how much.” She said, letting out a small sigh. Fabiola’s eyes flickered back at her at her mellow tone, taking in the woman’s lost stare and guarded form. She awkwardly pressed her lips together, her eyes flicking away since she found the cars passing on the street much more interesting than the emotionally charged atmosphere. She then gulped. “Just say what you really want to say.” She said, the words coming out firmer than she anticipated. She ignored it, however, her eyes still looking at anything but the woman next to her as they walked back to her car.

Addison glanced her way when she spoke, but was met with the woman tucking her shoulder-length blowout behind her ear. She gulped herself, pursing her lips as she looked away. “I…” She trailed off. “I just don’t think it’s best for me to say it in this environment. In the open.”

“I would rather you say it before we’re trapped in my car for the next twenty minutes until we make it back to my place.” Fabiola didn’t miss a beat, cutting her eyes at her from the corner. “No pressure but it might be more awkward for you.” She said, and before she could finish, she then realized why she didn’t have many friends. Feelings were never really her thing, and this sensitive subject that Addison was clearly going through wasn’t her forte at all.

Addison nodded at her words as she licked her lips, totally forgetting about the melting treat in her hands. “Yeah, you’re right.” She sighed. “Okay. I, um…. Okay…I…work for a Madam.” She added quickly after her stuttering spout, then ate the rest of her ice cream as quickly as she could. Fabiola turned her lips up at her, watching as the woman sucked the ice cream that was most just cream now, from the cone. Addison turned to her, seeing her disgusted face. “Okay, damn, no need for the look.” She spat.

Fabiola blinked. “No, that was for the way you ate the rest of that ice cream.” She added, giving her a sideways glance as she bit into her cone. “I don’t really care about that other thing.” She shrugged as she brought her gold wire shades down to cover her eyes, her hair blowing more in its free form with the wind in her strut. Addison’s brows shot out at that. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged as she sped up some, seeing her car in the distance. “A check is a check, sweetie.” She said, flashing the girl a smirk and wink before licking at her ice cream again. They were coming upon her car, causing the woman to dig into her purse to find her keys with one hand. Addison blinked, shocked at her blasé attitude, and nodded her head as she followed after the woman. “Well, it’s not really a check.” She added with a small smirk. Fabiola glanced over at her, her arm still out as she dug into her purse to fetch her keys. “Well, money is still money.” She added, mocking annoyance with a smirk still on her lips as she found her keys. Addison grinned as well, watching as the woman stepped into the street to open her car door.

They paused however at the sound of commotion at the car behind them.

Back in the car, Kelvin and Aaron were still arguing.

“How imma get the damn fries, A-A-Ron?”

“Quit calling me that! Now look, this ain’t no got damn Denny’s, ain’t no eating in my car.” Aaron said before movement out of the windshield window caught his attention. His eyes were completely disregarding the woman in white, tilting his head to look around the planned distraction at the two women coming down the pavement.

“I wouldn’t be buying no shit from Denny’s anyway!” Kelvin continued, not paying attention to what the other man was staring at. “I don’t like the way we would’ve been treated.” He said before his eyes caught sight of the woman in white walking around the car. He looked the pale gorgeous woman in the short white dress up and down before glancing back at Aaron. “You weren’t worried about no damn fries anyway.” He snarked, looking the man up and down. “You all up in that.” He said. He then realized Aaron wasn’t all up in that white woman passing by, but the two beauties walking down the street. Kelvin glanced over, and it was like everything transformed into slow motion.

They watched as a woman in a grey suit practically strutted down the street. Her straight hair was touching her collarbones and belonged in the wind, her shades covering her eyes. She walked with a sense of authority and confidence, her equally attractive friend a few steps behind her, as she licked away at the chocolate ice cream in her hands.

“Damn.” Kelvin and Aaron said at the same time in the same breathy tone, tilting their heads as they looked the duo up and down, moving to the car in front of them.

They couldn’t admire her long before they were interrupted by the sight of guns entering their periphery.

“Get out of the car.” The scrawny white guy spat at Aaron. He glanced at the man before shaking his head with a sigh while Kelvin just dripped his.

“Damn.” He and Kelvin repeated. L

Kelvin looked the big burly man next to him up and down in disgust before his eyes went back to the gun lined at his face. “Now ain’t this some bullshit.” He spat. “The fuck is this?” Their attention was no longer on the women in front of them, but their attention was now on them.

“Me and my team, we’ve had a big week, so just get the fuck out of the car.” The white guy spat at them. Kelvin was too busy squinting his eyes against the sun as he looked out of the car at the large guy who held him at gunpoint. “Damn!” He said again, looking him up and down. “What you weigh in at, 350? I bet you a big Popeye chicken-eating son of bitch, ain’t you? Churches?” He asked causing Aaron to roll his eyes as he brought his hands up in surrender. “Hey, hey. Let’s chill.” He began when the man brought the gun closer.

Kelvin turned to his partner, his arms still down as he frowned. “Why do I always gotta get the big thick mothafuckas?” He tiffed. This only gained a reaction from the men who were robbing them. “Get the hell out of the car, now!” The white guy hissed as he moved to piped the door, causing the large guy to follow. Aaron and Kelvin were quick to exit, their hands raised. “Alright, alright, alright!” Kelvin yelled as he stepped out with his cup in his hand. He looked at the man in front of him while the other guy tried to lean Aaron against the car.

Fabiola and Addison looked back at the commotion, their mouths dropping at the sight of the robbery happening in front of them. Addison was quick to drop the soggy cone and move to the car, squatting down some in case things got wild but Fabiola was stuck, the rest of her cone in her mouth, scared to move in case the men’s guns turned their way. They stood there, just watching and listening.

“You know, now this is some funny shit,” Aaron said, his tone fed up as he held his hands up, glancing between the men that surround him.

“Shut up!” The small guy yelled. But Aaron just ignored him, looking at the angry man. “Let me tell you how bad a day you’re having. Right now you’re having a couple of FBI agents.” He stated. The shirt guy with sweat sliding down his face just looked at him. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m a stand-up comedian.” He added. “And I suck! That’s why I need your car.” He shouted through clenched teeth as he took a step closer.

“We’re dealing with a couple of cops and some lunatics out here,” Fabiola stared on with bated breath, not able to rip her eyes star from the scene.

“Hey, look!” Kelvin spoke up, still not having taken his eyes off the man in front of him. “I ain’t no Wesley Snipes, I just hang out with stupid ass friends that drive stupid ass cars that’s attract a lot mothafuckin’ attention!” He yelled, emphasizing his words every time he glanced back at said ‘stupid ass friend’, who now had a gun to his head. Aaron didn’t seem to care about any of that at the moment, his jaw downing at Kelvin’s statement.

“You know what? I need to jump over this car and smack you upside your peasy ass head, that’s what I need to do.”

This caused Kelvin to turn around, the men now facing each other as they disregarded the burglars who watched them. Fabiola furrowed her bed at them while Addison raised from her crouch position, less scared as she watched the so-called cops argue with guns to their backs. “A couple of lunatics as cops too.” She said, adding to what she heard Fabiola state. They watched as the men screamed at one another, the men with guns slightly backing off out of confusion and tension.

“Yeah, cause your ass was arguing over a stupid ass, mothafuckin, French fry!”

“It’s not about the French fry!”

“It’s a fry!”

“It’s about your lack of respect for other people's property!” Aaron screamed, pointing over at him.

“Hey, hey, hey!” The scrawny man behind Aaron yelled.

“That shit is stupid!” Kelvin shouted back at Aaron. “Shut the fuck up!” The large dark-skinned man spoke up, pointing his gun at him. Kelvin’s head snapped back to him, face grimaced in pure anger. “Hold on! You hold the FUCK ON!” He yelled at him before turning back to argue. “Now you want some bad enough, come get some!” He added before quickly turning around and throwing his chocolate milkshake onto the large man, not missing a beat to kick him in the nuts and then rip the gun off his hips. All while Aaron simultaneously elbowed the man behind him in the face before then turning to sucker punch him, causing the perps to both hit the ground.

“You like that shit?!” Kelvin continued to yell, pointing his gun down at him. He moved around, kicking the gun far from the burglars' hands as he held his own to the man’s head. “Wesley Snipes, Passenger 57! Now give me a mothafuckin’ handy wipe!” He spat with a smirk, his glare on the large man.

Aaron let out a sigh as he pulled out his gun, pointing it down at the man who seemed to be concussed on the ground.

“Now let’s hear one of those jokes, bitch.” He spat. He heard w let out a large laugh from the other side of the car, causing him to glance over. He had a smirk of his own on his lips, green eyes relaxing in the sun. Their ultra-cool moment was interrupted by the sound of a car unlocking, causing both cops to look over at the two women from earlier staring at them.

Addison was quick to open her door, her eyes darting between the scene in front of her one last time. “Sick shit.” She said with a grin before entering the car. Fabiola still stood there, shocked as she looked between the two cops. It seemed as though the halt in the screaming caused her to snap out of her thoughts, leading her to blink. Her eyes moved over to the shorter man, who was dressed in a simple white tee and black dress pants, all high in his built figure. The hold of his chain, belt buckle, and other jewelry stood out against his brown skin. His shirt waves were smooth on his head and his cute face was sort of clean-shaven, her eyes attaching themselves to his stunning and plump lips.

“What she said.” She spoke up, nodding her head to the woman in the car. “That was…cool.” She nodded. Her sultry voice caused both men to tense up but quickly relaxed, the smooth sound unexpected to both of them. Her shades were also on, covering her eyes from telling them what she truly thought, and why she was still there speaking to them. Kelvin nodded his head at her, not hiding the way he looked her up and down. “Thanks.” He said, a small smirk making his way into his lips.

She nodded at him before her eyes then made their way to the man on the other side of the car. His figure was taller and larger, and although his suit was baggier, she could tell the muscles under it were strong and sculpted. His outfit was similar to Kevin’s, although his was grey and he had his blazer on. What caught her attention the most was his eyes, the bright and striking color of them held her captivated from the rest of his face. The icy blue irises looked back at her as her eyes gave his face a quick once over, admiring his large ears and nice goatee, and a sexy smolder on his lips.

“Nice car.” She added, nodding at the fancy Porsche that they surrounded. Aaron blinked, his eyes not leaving her face. He was caught in the way the hair blew the wind, framing her face perfectly. Though he only knew her for mere seconds, he hoped desperately that some unknown force would come in a swoop the glasses from her face to see her clearly. “Thank you. Porsche.” He said, snapping out of his quick start of thinking. His eyes then moved to the one she stood by, nodding his ear down to it. “What that?” He asked.

The pair could both see one of her brow arch at his question, a smirk making its way into her lips. “A Ferrari.” She said, placing her hand on her hip as she looked between the two of them. Aaron’s eyes widened as he stood straighter, looking between the car and the woman. “F512M. Nice right? I know.” He said, not even waiting for a response to her question that she answered herself before opening the door. She didn’t even give them one last glance before hopping into the nice grey car and pulling off, making sure to rev her nice engine.

Kelvin and Aaron stood there, guns still pinged at her knocked-out perps, watching the car as it quickly drove away from them. Kelvin seemed to relax without the woman in his vicinity, his shoulders dropping but his arms still raised to aim his gun. “We should get these guys…somewhere. I want ‘em the hell up outta my face.” He grumbled before moving to grab his phone and pager from the car to call down the local police. Aaron raised as well, his gaze moving from the sunset the woman drove off into, to the hot pavement the burglar laid on. “Forget them, this one’s probably dead. I wanna know who the hell that was.”

“Someone out of both of our leagues,” Kelvin added, his focus on the phone in his hands. Aaron jerked his head back, sending the man a dirty look. Before he could even begin an argument, Kelvin had already raised his finger, halting him. “Even for you Mr.Playboy. You don’t have a Ferrari.” He said before sending him a sarcastic smile and then turning away with the phone held up his ear.

Meanwhile, in the car, Fabiola had a grin on her face as she pushed her glasses back up into her hair. “Girl, them cops were fione!” She said, causing Addison to laugh. “You know, besides all the armed robbery stuff, that wasn’t a bad sight. I love to see some brothers in action.” She cheesed, letting out a laugh as she rethought the whole ordeal they witnessed.

“Yeah, they were pretty fine.” Addison nodded, dragging out the word pity as she grabbed the matinee she left in the woman’s dashboard. “And probably married. Brothas that cute can’t be single. Agents at that. And in that car? I know their women love them.”

“Mmhmm.” Fabiola hummed in agreement, a small smirk on her lips as she nodded her head. She then let out a scoff at a sudden thought. “Probably white women too.” She stated, causing Addison to let one out as well. “Let’s get off that.” Fabiola waved off with a quick roll of her eyes. She couldn’t dwell on the thought of those fine men being tired down so some non-sisters that couldn’t love them and understand like she could.

What the hell am I talking about? I don’t know them and I’m damn sure never gonna to see them again, get over it, girl. This is the adrenaline and sugar talking. She thought to herself.

“Why the hell don’t I know Miami was this crazy? I knew it was fun in the sun but damn, am I gonna get a gun pulled on me?”

“I’m this car in certain areas? Sista they might try to kidnap you for ransom.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

My tumblr is tripping, I don’t have a tag list for some reasons so if you want to be part of it, let me know, and pretend that Aaron has an American accent or I will make jokes on why a British man is apart of the United States FBI.

[midnitetech]

Rename Worlds Mod

Hi everyone! I'm so happy to retire my old 'mod', which was just a .package file of strings to change, and crappy instructions (I over explain everything!) Now all you need to do is drop this script file into your Mods folder, load up a lot and type rename_world "Current World Name" "New World Name" into the cheat console and press enter! I've created a world_help command so you don't have to remember anything, and a cheat to list all the current names in case you forget the spelling, or name of a world.

This doesn't affect your other saves, only the current one, and you can change the world names whilst you're in game!

🎮Required DLC: None/Base Game Compatible

If you're a vanilla/no cc player, and just want my old instructions for changing names using Sims4Studio, and a .save file, I've uploaded them here. Unfortunately, there's no way of changing the neighborhood names (i.e. Pendula View) per save, due to the way they're coded into the game. You can still change the string names using Sims4Studio for new saves though- Just go to Tools>String Table Lookup, select your language and choose the neighborhood name you want to change. Then Add to package (any name you choose), and edit the name. If you want a package file ready to edit just shoot me a message.

Download to C:\Users\....\Documents\Electronic Arts\The Sims 4\Mods—script files must be no more than 1 folder deep.

Load a lot, bring up the cheat console (Ctrl+Shift+C) and type in world_help to see the commands.

PATREON (free)

[kickbackkanzaki]

The Dungeon Master and Chess Queen

You're the new student and chess captain at Hawkins High. When Eddie Munson asks you for tutoring you're certain you have him handled but you may have underestimated his strategy.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

A/N Not so hot and heavy this chapter but I'm cooking up something for chapter four if you hang in there...

You were actually at band practice to enjoy some music and read a book on the bleachers while you waited for Robin. The two of you had a date for fries and the local bookstore afterwards but you let the onlookers believe you were there for Eddie.

"We can meet at your place or the public library, your choice," you whispered to Eddie as you twirled some of his hair around your finger.

Eddie had his hands on your hips with his fingertips hooked around your belt loops.

"Whoa not my place," he said a little frantic.

"Library it is," you declared and kissed the lock of hair twined around your finger.

Eddie made an unusual face that worried you.

"Yeah the thing is, we can't. I've got a lifetime ban there."

"How'd that happen?"

"There are a lot of details but it all boils down to a first edition Hemmingway and chocolate pudding."

You had several questions but thought it better to move along. Rehearsal would start in a minute and you needed a location for tomorrow's tutoring.

"Having guests is difficult for me," you explained a little cagey, "and the school wont let us use a room after hours because of our past shenanigans. So it'll have to be your place."

Eddie relented reluctantly and you pecked each other on the lips before he took his place in the band.

The next day you parked your rusty Mustang outside Eddie's trailer making a worrisome noise until you turned the ancient engine off.

You had just spent the past hour with Max shooting the breeze after delivering a batch of meals for her freezer.

When her Mum's roster fell on night shifts you provided a regular meal service so Max didn't eat from tins all week and feel crappy at school from all the chemical additives she ingested.

She rolled her eyes at the elaborate dishes your dad had portioned into tupperware but she was yet to complain about how they tasted.

Eddie heard you pull up and opened the trailer door for you.

"Where's your oven? This sucker needs to heat for ninety minutes," you said holding up a casserole dish with both hands.

"You brought your dinner?" Eddie asked as you passed him.

"Our dinner," you corrected and turned around trying to find the oven in the submarine sized kitchen. "Dad always cooks my student and I a meal when I do afterhours tutoring. I hope you like cassoulet."

Eddie lived on a steady diet of ham sandwiches and tinned spaghetti so he honestly couldn't say if he liked cassoulet or not. You weren't listening for an answer anyway as you were trying to open the oven door with your elbow.

"Guess your old man likes to cook," Eddie remarked as you slipped the dish in and set the temperature.

"He earned two Michelin stars before he gave it up," you answered then looked at him expectantly. "Where are we doing it? The bedroom? Or is the couch better?"

"Sorry?"

"Study," you clarified. "Do you have a desk in your room?"

"Oh right. No. Not the bedroom. I made room on the table."

You were oblivious to the blush rising on Eddie's cheeks as you returned to the living room and claimed a seat. The table was covered by towers of paraphernalia save for a corner Eddie had cleared for the session.

"I'll need a cup of tea and grab yourself some water," you called to Eddie who busied himself looking for a clean mug.

He gave one next to the kettle a suspicious sniff then ran it under some hot water hastily.

Sometimes the guys dropped by to rock out to metal tapes or watch a horror movie but Eddie had never entertained female company at home and it had him on edge.

'Hang on she's not your girlfriend,' he reminded himself as he opened all the jars in the pantry trying to locate a teabag.

That felt weird to think since he'd been making out with you publicly for weeks now. You'd seen him in his underwear and he'd had his hands all over your arse in the janitor's closet. Neither of you held back when you kissed either, your authenticity had earned you a few jeers about swapping mono.

Still, it was all a ruse to protect their business interests, no feelings to hurt.

Right?

The milk had gone bad and you declined sugar so you accepted your beverage as it was and opened a lunchbox of chopped fruit when Eddie sat with his water.

"Natural sugar for the brain," you explained as he looked baffled then you turned away from his smile.

There was something about that smile that made you giddy and invited you be playful.

It was probably the reason you never felt nervous kissing Eddie in front of a crowd. You knew he would never take advantage of you, there was a genuineness to him you trusted.

'Don't' your better judgement warned and you reverted to professionalism.

"Ok let's start with what's most urgent," you ordered. "What's due this week?"

Eddie handed you some crumpled sheets of paper which you flattened against the tabletop smoothing out the creases. He then pulled a math book out of his bag and opened it to a marked page.

You looked over the questions and nodded after a second of processing.

"Write the answers you get on some paper while I go over this then we'll take a look together. See where you're running into trouble."

Eddie "Yes Mamed" and followed your instructions faithfully. You noticed he wasn't shooting quips today or teasing so you suspected he felt embarrassed.

The humbleness of the trailer didn't bother you, your Dad had rented some awful apartments over the years and your current house was hardly The Ritz.

Nor were you gloating over Eddie's aptitude level. You breezed through your classes because of how puzzles deconstructed and realigned in your brain which you knew was rare. Plenty of people had commented about your neurotypical cognition when you had triumphed in no win chess matches.

That didn't give you an ego though, being smart didn't make you superior. You had more failings than you could count - your sporting efforts were laughable, your temper was always running hot and your domestic duties were never going to make you a housewife.

Meanwhile Eddie was creative in ways you'd never be, plucking new riffs from the air and bringing them alive on his guitar. He could write a D&D campaign with the skill of a fantasy novelist and his physical humour was hilarious.

Also the little sketches he'd done in the margins of his essay were quite good.

'Stop thinking about Eddie,' your better judgement piped but again and you concentrated on covering Eddie's handwriting in red pen.

You worked for a solid ninety minutes and found that most of what Eddie did was correct, he just had things around the wrong way.

He made some astute points in his essay but there was no structure to the piece and math he understood, he was just working it out backwards.

You supposed that was why his music was so original, a linear mind rarely came up with anything extraordinary.

The phone rang breaking the silence and you were glad for the disruption. There was something about being in Eddie Munson's private space that had you thinking fond thoughts.

Distractingly fond thoughts.

"Let me grab that," Eddie said and got up.

"Go for it," you said and went to the kitchen to refill your tea. You could hear Eddie on the phone as you searched for a fresh teabag.

"This is he, yes, yes. Sorry what did you say? How much? From where? You're sure? As in five two zeros? Right, thanks, bye."

You headed back to the table but froze when you saw Eddie. He was frowning, something you'd never seen him do and his hands were on his hips.

"That was the bank telling me the cheque you deposited into my account cleared," he said slowly after clearing his throat.

"Oh good," you replied cautiously waiting for the guillotine blade to fall.

Your casualness snapped his thin restraint and Eddie threw his hands into the air in an angry fit.

"Where the hell did you get five hundred dollars?!" he bellowed.

You relaxed knowing there was no emergency and walked back to your seat. If Eddie was going to be dramatic you'd rather take it sitting down.

"It's your ten percent just like I promised," you explained calmly and pulled his essay rewrite closer to read.

"You won five hundred bucks playing chess?" Eddie was flummoxed and couldn't comprehend your coolness.

He wasn't sure what had him wound up more, the amount of money he now possessed or how unperturbed you were about parting with it.

His bank account had never been so far in credit or his lunchbox full of crumpled dollars. His only investments were the guitar hanging on his bedroom wall and the jacket on his back but now he was loaded because you'd made a handshake deal with him behind school.

"Oh, your math is worse than I thought," you said with worry. "When you want to know a total amount of a percentage you write down the-"

"I know how percentages work!" Eddie bellowed. "When you said ten percent last week I though it would be about forty bucks or a couple of chocolate bars!"

"That was your assumption," you replied with an indifferent shrug. His hysterics were starting to bore you.

"Do they really give out five grand at high school chess comps?"

Eddie had heard of people living off games but they were usually card shark cocaine addicts or Russians with Einstein intellects. If someone sponsored D&D he could make a million as Dungeon Master but unfortunately he'd picked a game under persecution by the Christian middle class.

"No I was at the Michigan State Tournament," you said slowly to keep him placated. "I did mention Detroit to you remember?"

That's right, you'd needed the ten bucks for a bus ticket to a chess competition. It then dawned on Eddie he was talking to a state champion and he had to sit down.

"Shit girl," he puffed as he dropped in his chair like he'd just finished a marathon. "I didn't know you were that good."

"I do ok."

"A bit more than ok!"

"Yeah but no one likes a wanker."

Eddie silently agreed with that summation and finished his water before slamming it on the table like a beer pint on a bar.

"I can't accept the money," he declared in a seldom used serious voice. "It's too much."

The writing paper you were reading slowly lowered and Eddie could see your dangerous eyes staring at him lethally. It reminded him of a cowboy's eyes glaring down a gun barrel in a High Noon duel.

There'd be no arguing with whatever you said next.

"Don't start that shit. The deal was ten percent and you got ten percent. Buy some new music equipment, plant more marijuana or blow it all on D&D I really don't care. It's your money Eddie."

It was pretty rare that Eddie didn't get his own way. His band and Hellfire Club heeded his commands like loyal underlings and most adults simply gave him what he wanted to make him go away or stop talking.

Wayne had raised him on a loose leash because Eddie had always respected him enough not to abuse that liberty.

Thinking of Wayne, he'd have to keep the money a secret as he was already suspicious of where the weed cash was coming from.

Eddie hated to admit it but you had him pinned like one of your chess pieces. You wouldn't take the money back and he couldn't tell anyone who might have the influence to overrule your decision.

Zugzwang.

The one chess expression he knew. No matter which move he made it would be a bad one so he had to make the least bad decision he could.

"All right Grandmaster," he resigned himself to defeat sulkily and flopped in his chair. "What will you do with the rest of it? College fund?"

"Why's it matter?"

"Just curious." Eddie was a little taken aback by your snappish answer. "It's pretty cool that you beat a couple hundred people in another state. Most chess players are old dudes but you kicked their arses in a cute skirt. You should be proud of yourself."

Proud.

You'd never been proud of your chess abilities as you'd been warned too many times about the folly of pride. It always cometh before the fall.

You loved chess, the strategy, the cunning, the limitations and the possibilities all in sixty-four squares. Every time you played you discovered something new about the game or your opponent.

You hated the pressure of needing to win prize money though. It was like Van Gough pouring his heart into a painting then having to sell it for a pittance to keep him from begging.

Nothing destroyed your passion faster than making it lucrative.

Eddie's eyes were still on you and you could see his concern. It made you regret arguing and admitted he deserved some honesty. In the short time you'd known him he hadn't lied to you once.

"Some of what you've heard about my Dad is true, he has mental health problems," you began and picked up your mug so your fingers wouldn't fidget. "Very severe bi-polar."

"That's..." Eddie's uncertain expression told you an explanation was needed.

"They used to call it manic depressive. It's when you can't control your emotions so you can shoot up to an amazing mood only to crash into depression without warning. So he can come across as a little intense or strange which unsettles people. Hence all the stories."

Eddie nodded but didn't interrupt because he could tell you were struggling and had heard about your Dad's oddities to follow the story.

He'd never seen you vulnerable and realised you must trust him to talk about this. The two of you had done a lot of kissing but hardly any talking.

"I had to stay in boarding school a long time because he was never well enough to be responsible. He'd do ok for a time with his therapy and medication only to crash out and wind up back in the psych ward. Then last year his social worker said he was steady enough for me to come home."

Eddie didn't interrupt so you continued.

"However no one is keen to employ a man who's spent half his adult life in mental hospitals and Dad can't cope with anything stressful."

"So the prize money-" Eddie began.

"It takes more than a disability cheque and my two side gigs to cover everything. Chess keeps Dad's meds stocked, the rent paid and the bills in the black."

"That's a lot."

"That's just family."

The oven suddenly dinged and you felt a rush of relief. Literally saved by the bell.

Eddie followed you into the kitchen and together you assembled dinner. Eddie usually ate straight from the tin or without cutlery so it took him a minute to find everything.

Sitting back at the table together Eddie felt a sensation of surrealism. He and Wayne usually crossed like ships in the night with Eddie's days at school and Wayne's night shifts so they only ate together on weekends.

Even then it was usually on the couch and only if neither of them had plans. So using the dining table for its intended purpose and eating French food was not something he had anticipated for the evening.

"I've been getting a lot of company around the Coke machine lately," you attempted dinner conversation and Eddie raised his eyebrows. "Cheerleaders and Party Girls asking just how many tattoos you have under that Hellfire shirt and if you have a penis piercing."

"What did you say?" Eddie asked with a half smile.

It was good to see you perking back up after that heavy confession.

"That my lips are sealed but what you did to me on the pool table at The Hideaway last week left me gasping," you said in a sultry voice and added a little gasp for dramatic effect.

Eddie laughed a little as he chewed his dinner. For someone who liked a game so clinical you had quite the sordid imagination.

"You gotta go easier on the risqué stories sweetheart," he said and scooped up another fork of food. "If you give me a Cassanova reputation I'll disappoint the frustrated housewives of Hawkins when I'm cleaning their pools next year."

"You wont be servicing housewives in your future," you assured him. "You'll be a million miles from Hawkins tearing it up on stage at a Swedish Death Metal festival knee deep in Nordic babes."

"You really think so?"

Eddie had never discussed his music ambitions with you but you'd seen his enthusiasm at band practice. You'd seen his frustration too, having to keep to the dull notes of patriotic school pep songs instead of making that guitar roar.

"You've got just as much chance as anybody but not if you stay in this town," you said rationally. "Get your diploma and board a bus to LA or New York where there's actually a music scene. People around here are still playing The Doobie Brothers and The Beatles on vinyl."

"True," Eddie agreed.

Moving out of Hawkins had long been the dream but he'd never had any idea how to go about it. Wayne had gotten stuck here and his father had become a criminal.

Starting fresh successfully required cash and education neither of which he'd had much of.

Until now.

Later when you'd finished dinner Eddie shelled out some tens for your time and you made sure to remember the casserole dish when gathering your things. Dad was very particular about his cookware.

Eddie walked you to your car and unlocked it so you could pile your bags and dirty dish into the passenger side.

"Thanks for tonight," Eddie said as you took the keys back. "I think this helped."

"That's ok," you said dismissively. "Let me know when you need another session and I'll make time."

"I mean for everything tonight. It was really great."

The outdoor light on the trailer didn't cast enough light to see Eddie's face but his tone lacked its usual amusement and sureness.

Like you, it wasn't easy for Eddie to show vulnerability.

Theatrics and showmanship were how Eddie protected himself just as you used stinging insults and wit. Right now you weren't sure how to answer as a factious remark would be a barb on Eddie's exposed nerves.

"I'm glad. I had a good time too," was the first honest thing that came to mind.

Eddie kissed you then. Not one of his exhibition kisses but a gentle one that lingered on your cheek for a second then flew away.

"Oh, um," you would have been less surprised if he'd shoved you aside and stolen the Mustang.

Luckily in the dark Eddie couldn't see you blush. You hadn't received a kiss so sweet and chaste since a chess club boy has kissed you when you were twelve.

"Goodnight Eddie," you blurted and jumped in the car. It spluttered into life and you stomped the clutch to throw the gearstick in reverse.

Eddie looked started in the headlights for a second then you swung the wheel around and shot out the trailer park well over the five mile limit and didn't slow until you saw the lights of town.

Eddie Munson had changed tactics on you and your pieces were exposed to attack.

It was time to put your defences back up.

[s1lencew1llfall]

@codex-arcene

let me know if there's anything you'd like me to change!

again very little bill content out there, much less pics so that's a serious problem the fandom needs to fix. can't actually supply them myself cause i have no access to the episodes outside of dvd...

then again if i have to take crappy photos with my decade-old phone of my tv then so be it

anyways hope you enjoy codex :)

(sneaky lil chip photos up the back there, quite the pilot reference)

edit: i do not think i noticed the asian guy in the middle of the collage. should probably remove him

[prentissluvr]

literary parallels — sam winchester

pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : light angst, fluff ➖⟢ cw : small injuries, few seconds of physical fighting (self-defense), no use of y/n, you have a dad and i gave him a name (rick lol), mentions of death of loved ones, sort of case fic, kinda ignores canon timeline in terms of a few minor things but canon doesn't matter much in this fic lol, poorly edited most likely ➖⟢ wc : 3.6K summary : sam is someone from your past at stanford university, and the last place you expect to see him again is on a case. that's exactly where you find him. i plan on doing a part two for this one in the future! :))

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

today is one of those days where the reality of your life feels strange, unwelcome, and somewhat foreign. it’s not as if you’re new to the hunting life; it’s just the opposite, and yet, you often feel removed from it, especially after having lived normally at college for a few years. but you were ripped back into hunting without being able to finish your degree by your father after the death of your closest cousin. 

so now you’re cooped up in a crappy motel room searching endlessly through detailed lore websites and the few books you have on you, trying to make sense of the odd patterns of killings in the small california town. that’s part of the pit in your stomach for today; the beach town, cayucos, is only three hours from stanford. 

being so close to your former university after almost a whole year brings back a whole lot of mixed feelings. mostly longing for the normalcy that you loved and lost, but also a renewed urgency to find what killed your cousin. she had been studying at a different college just an hour inland from you. when she died, you had wanted to salt and burn her body and move on. but when your father showed up with proof of odd circumstances, he pursuaded you to rejoin him in the hunting life.

the deaths in cayucos are certainly odd, but they lack the defining features that would allow you to identify the creature at fault. so, you’re searching for anything with a grudge against hot men and a killing cycle of seven years since those are about the only patterns so far. your dad is at the coroner’s office, meeting with an old hunter friend to check out the body of the latest victim.

that’s been another reminder of your brief time at a normal school with normal friends and normal hobbies. when your dad first told you he called in a friend to help, he’d asked you, “d’you remember john winchester? you met him once when you were a kid, he’s an old buddy of mine.” you shook your head and he shrugged, saying something about how it makes sense; you were young and only met him once. but the name stuck in your mind as he left, and it had nothing to do with hunting or when you were a kid on the road, stuck in motels, school if you were there long enough, or the town library if you were lucky.

that name, or the last name anyway, comes from the stanford part of your life, the one you keep cherished in the most protected corners of your heart. sam winchester was one of your few friends during your time there, and after hearing his family name spoken aloud, he’s floating through your mind all day.

he disappeared after jess, his girlfriend and one of your other few friends, died, mere weeks before your own cousin died and you left standford as well. you’ve always wondered what happened to him, the best conclusion you could come to being that he couldn’t bear her death. they were absolutely in love with each other, but you know jess would have wanted him to finish at stanford, then head to that law school he was bound to get that full-ride to. sam always had an air of strength about him, so it surprised you when you never saw him again. he wasn’t even at her funeral, and to this day, that’s your singular bone to pick with him. 

but, you can’t afford to think about him too much as you search for answers about the case. abandoning the lore websites for the meantime, you look over the police records of all the deaths that you can find, hoping to draw together any more patterns that you can use to narrow down your research. you’re jotting down a few notes, thinking you may have found something regarding accounts of a few of the men being last seen with a woman, when your train of thought is interrupted by an unexpected knock on the door.

on instinct, you draw your gun as you cross the room, looking through the peephole and silently cursing when you realize the light out front has gone out. all you can make out is the tall, broad silluete of a man thanks to the dimness of the twighlight sky.

you wait for a moment at the door, hoping he’ll just walk away after he doesn’t get an answer. but you’re unlucky, and he knocks again before calling out, “hello? rick sent me here to … help with the case, he said his kid was here. i’m john winchester’s son, sam.”

if you were in an old-timey cartoon, your jaw would’ve dropped to the floor. sam … sam winchester. it sounds just like him. trying to keep your head, you swap your gun for a nearby canteen of holy water and slip a silver knife into your pocket for accessibility. it’s too much of a coincidence for you to believe it.

you crack the door, just enough for him to hear you a bit better. “sam winchester? like stanford full-ride, lawyboy sam winchester?”

“i– how do you–” there’s a moment of silence, and you know that he’s piecing together the few clues he has; your voice and the last name you must share with your dad, the man he knows as rick. his voice is just as cautious as yours as he says your name like he can’t really believe it.

for a moment, you stop thinking when you hear his voice saying your name after so long, and you throw open the door and let him in. the light from the motel room finally illuminates his face, and it’s him, it’s really him. and the moment you think that is the moment you realize that could absolutely not be the case.

the second he turns to you from closing the door, you’re splashing holy water in his face so fast you barely catch the look he was about to give you; eyes so full of surprise and wonder and confusion and something akin to joy. you react quickly to his lack of reaction besides the normal surprise at getting splashed in the face, slashing at his arm with your silver knife to finish testing him. but he reacts just as fast as you, grabbing both of your wrists, spinning you around and pinning you to the flat surface of the door.

his hold is quite strong, but he doesn’t have the time to bear his full weight into holding you down before you react, so you’re able to manuever out of his hold with practiced ease. you lift one arm up as you yank the other down to make it so you’re able to slip down and to the side, out of his hold. then you’ve got a strong hand to his back, shoving him face-first against the door and your other arm bringing your knife to his throat.

the thought that his profile view with his pulled-taut eyebrows and the grimace on his mouth looks pretty has the audacity to float up to the forefront of your mind before you can squash it down. the whole struggle had taken mere seconds, and he resigns the minute you’ve got him pinned down.

“it’s me,” he pants, “i swear. ‘m not a shapeshifter or ghoul or anything, it was just instinct. sorry,” he explains quickly, “go ahead, test me.”

you debate saying “don’t mind if i do,” but decide that you don’t have to be teasing or snarky about it. instead, you tamp down your hesitance to hurt him, even a little bit because he still sort of feels like innocent, regular, lawboy sam to you, and you draw a thin line of blood at the spot where his neck slopes into his broad shoulder. there’s no burning, just a normal wince from his mouth, so you loosen your hold on him and step back, internally cringing at the small bit of blood beginning to slip down towards his collarbone.

“sorry,” you say, far more sincere than you would be if it’d been anybody else. this is the norm for hunters, but you haven’t quite wrapped your mind around the fact that sam is a hunter. you’d never once would have guessed, though you suppose that was the point. you had done everything you could to hide that part of your life during your time at stanford.

“it’s fine,” he gives you an awkward half-smile, just as sincere as you. “just, y’know, your turn.” you’d been so busy taking in the sight of him standing there, looking almost exactly the same, but not quite, as he had in college, that you forgot about the courtesy of testing yourself too.

“right,” you clear your throat, “of course.” without the hesitance any normal person would have, you take the knife to your forearm and splash a bit of holy water on your skin. “there we go. no demons or shapeshifters or the like. that’s good.” you feel incredibly awkward all of the sudden, still so bewildered and thrown off balance by the collision of your two words. it feels like too much of a coincidence for you to be this close to your old school, be thinking about sam winchester, a symbol of that old life, then for him to show up and flip your whole entire understanding of him. there’s just about a million things running through your mind at just about a million miles per hour and it’s starting to make your head hurt.

the movement of his hand, reaching up to hold the small cut you gave him is what brings you out of your short lived reverie.

“god, i’m sorry. let me get you something for that.” you don’t give him the time to politely tell you, “no, it’s okay,” like you know he would before you’ve turned your back and crossed the room to grab a first aid kit from your bag and some rubbing alcohol from the bathroom. “sit down,” you urge him when you turn back to him, motioning towards the table you’d been seated at when he arrived.

he complies and once again, you’re thinking about the strangeness of sharing this sort of space with him. you’re used to seeing him in libraries so big that they’re almost grand for quiet study sessions or in the dining hall with his nose buried in a book or in the lecture hall where you first met him in a gen-ed class. you’re used to seeing him on one of the grassy quads with jess by his side or him in the big, open, and fancy old university buildings. now he looks right at home in the dingy motel room, so small it feels like his tall, broad frame shouldn’t fit in here, so dim that his sometimes blue or green eyes look sort of muddy. they’re pretty, nonetheless.

you set the first aid kit on the table and pull out a large bandaid and a bit of gauze. you reasses the cut to be sure he doesn’t need any other sort of bandaging and almost sigh in relief when you see how shallow it is. sam doesn’t speak or protest that he’s fine to do it himself as you pull the collar of his t-shirt aside just a bit. you’re sure his mind’s busy with a whole load of questions for you, just like you for him. the brush of your knuckles against his skin suddenly makes his presence feel more real. whatever contact you’d had during the short-lived fight you’d had was completely surreal; you weren’t sure he was really even sam, and if he was, it would feel like a lie anyways, for his hands to be rough or so quick in a fight.

he doesn’t so much as wince when you press alcohol soaked gauze to the cut, and though the wound is small and shallow enough that you’re sure it barely stings, it still feels like a sign of his being a hunter, being used to pain. you don’t like that thought; sweet, sincere, and ever so smart sam being used to pain. as you take care of the cut, he lets his eyes wander around the room, probably taking in how familiar it is, and how weird that it’s your motel room and all of your belongings packed into a single bag and your computer screen displaying hacked into police reports and the very same lore websites he frequents to solve a tricky case.

when you’re done he thanks you with a small smile and you take the seat across from him. as your fingers had brushed over his bare skin and felt a whisper of his strong shoulders, you’d gotten the strong urge to hug him. you missed him even more than you thought. that urge doesn’t leave when you move away from him.

you make a confused face at sam when he reaches for the first aid kit and pulls out another set of bandaids and gauze. he just hands you a gauze now soaked with alcohol and nods at you.

“for your arm,” he explains, because you’ve already forgotten about that as you accept it with a questioning brow.

“right,” you chuckle softly, swiping over the cut with the gauze, then taking and applying the bandaid that sam opened for you. when you’re done you have to drag your eyes up to meet sam’s gaze. there’s tension in the room, and though it’s not bad per se, it’s begging to be addressed and you’re not sure how to even start. it seems like sam’s not sure either.

so, you choose to jump right into the fire.

“it’s so good to see you, sam,” you confess, pushing all your sincerity into your voice, “i mean, this is absolutely insane and i can’t quite wrap my mind around it, but i guess i don’t really care because it’s so good to see you. i worried about you so much after … after jess died, i mean, you just dissappeared and … and i can imagine that has something to do with the fact that you’re a hunter, which is sort of incomprehensible to me, but–,” suddenly you’re hit with a new realization. if sam’s disappearance had to do with the supernatural, you wonder if jess’s death did too. but you don’t want to ask, not right now. “oh, god, and i never got to tell you how sorry i am. i– i mean. i can’t imagine.” there’s where your voice trails off and you look to sam to be the one to say something now.

“thanks,” he answers simply, voice gentle but a little pained, rightfully so. “she was your friend, too. i mean, we were all friends. and i’m sorry i disappeared like that. i, um, well, you’re right. hunting dragged me away. it’s complicated and i’ll explain it to you later. you deserve to know what happened to jess, but– but it’s a lot.” a moment of silence allows that to sink in; so something did happen to her, something more than just faulty electrical wiring in her apartment. sam’s genuine as he goes on, “and it’s great to see you too, really. it’s so strange, i mean all of this, obviously, but it’s even stranger how close we are to stanford. i was already thinking about it, about you all on the way over, and the next thing i know, you’re the suspicious hunter throwing holy water in my face.” 

you cringe a little at that, but sam smiles a little wider than he has all night. “that’s a good thing,” he half-laughs, “i don’t care how weird this coincidence is, i’m glad for it.” his hand twitches, almost as if he’d wanted to reach over and grab your hand, but thought better of it before it could happen. “i gotta ask, did you finish your degree?” the way he asks is so hopeful, and you immediately know how much he wants the answer to be yes. he’s thinking, if i couldn’t finish, please tell me at least one of us could. that one of us poor and foolish hunter kids who thought we could escape managed to long enough to finish a degree, prove that we could make something of ourselves in the normal world. it would be so nice to see that, if it couldn’t be me, it could be somebody, it could be you.

his face falls a little when he registers the sad smile on your face. your expression is more than enough of an answer, and the fact that he wanted so badly for you to have made it makes your heart break a little, for both him and you. we deserved better, you think.

“just about the same thing happened to me,” you begin to explain, “you remember my cousin, bex?” sam nods, recalling the way the two of you acted like siblings the few times he met her, how much you liked alike when you smiled, already sad for what he suspects he might hear. “she died a few weeks after jess. she and i both grew up hunting, and we both thought we got out of it, at least for a little while. we almost lasted all four years … i didn’t think there was anything weird with her death, but … my dad showed me proof of just that at her funeral, convinced me to come back to hunting with him. she was– she was hiding something, and, honestly i’m still not sure what happened. progress on her case has been slow. real slow, so we’ve been working on others in the meantime. keeping busy, you know.”

“oh, i know,” sam sighs, and you completely believe him. you wonder for a moment what bigger things he’s digging into before deciding it’s best if the two of you stick to what’s in front of you. if you go too deep, having each other, a new kind of steady presence from better times, might start feeling too unreal again. 

you want to preserve this delicate balance, where sam is still stanford sam and you’re still stanford you, but now there’s just a deeper understanding of each other. a knowing of what it’s like to grow up with a hunter for a father, to want to get away from it all, to want a sense of normalcy, and to want to learn and become something more and say “screw you!” to all of the expections. and on top of that, knowing how it feels to get so close to the finish line, only to have it ripped out of your hands like you’re a child who’s parents think they’ve had too much candy. only it’s far worse than a half eaten lollipop in the trash because people that you love died, and it was all so much more than just chasing after a momentary sugar high. 

“i’m sorry about bex,” sam says, this time actually reaching out and placing his hand on yours for a moment. his voice is as full of empathy and sincerity as ever. “she was amazing the few times i met her. i could see how close you two were.”

“thanks, sam.” you give him a small smile because those words feel so much better coming from him than just about anyone else. with that, the air seems to settle a little, and it’s far more bearable. you’ve still got a hundred and one questions to ask and a hundred and one more things to say to each other, but to find out you have this near-exact shared experience is like having so much of the weight of loneliness lifted from your chest. and it all feels even better because you know sam. you know him already. 

sure, there’s a whole lot you missed before, but you don’t doubt for a second that the sam sitting in front of you is as kind, funny, smart, witty, sincere, adorably awkward, and good as the sam you met and came to know at stanford. in fact, knowing he grew up the way he did just reaffirms his goodness to you. it’s not easy to live like that and continue choosing to be kind and well-meaning and true to yourself. then there’s this feeling of admiration for sam, just blooming in your chest and you hold back a wide grin because the timing’s not quite right. you still can’t shake the urge to hug him.

“well,” you smile casually, if not a little rueful as you say your next words, “i think our dads will go all hunter-dad-crazy on us if we keep playing catch up. i’ll give you a run down of everything i’ve got, then we can do what dropouts from the west coast’s most prestigious school’s do best; research.”

sam’s smile matches your own, and it’s achingly familiar. “well, we can’t have those asses ruin our not-quite-stanford-alumni reuinion. let’s get to work. we can pretend it’s like the good old days, spring freshman year, all of us cramming for the way-er exam at the back of the library and getting shushed by the librarians. we can pretend john and rick are the librarians.”

for the first time in a long time, you let out a loud laugh, surprised and pulled right out of you without warning. he smiles wide at the sound and finally, without restraint, you grin back. god, you missed him.