#((hollers about fighting for what's right and putting it all on the line for the sake of what you believe is good and innocent))

[skyfcx]

@metalcopy replied to your post: i could always beat him up so he feels more like a hero

crunches you like a soda can.

[chatsukimi]

ʜᴇʏ ʙᴀʙʏ, ʙᴀʙʏ

featuring: gojo satoru x reader. humour + hurt no comfort. synopsis: a collection of you and gojo's voicemails/calls to each other throughout the years. masterlist

july 7th, 2006. 11:23am.

"heyy babyy, you miss me?"

cringing to yourself, you listened to your classmate, gojo satoru's, first voicemail to you. the windows were open in the classroom, summer wind blowing in. the heat was almost as annoying as the blondie's voice. gojo and geto are staying at some estate in okinawa to catch some special grade curse.

oh, and for the record, he was not your boyfriend- whatever pet names he constructed for you were his business only.

you'd tried and failed for him to stop.

"... geto says it's a huge curse we're catching. pfft. i think it's easy peasy. and-"

you heard very distinctly geto's voice hollering at gojo on the other line. pinching your lips together, you resisted a smile. what a menace, leaving his friend in the midst of battle just to send a voicemail to you.

it almost warmed your heart.

"-ok, looks like he's having trouble. aww, suguru, do i have to hang up?" a cacophony of harsh bangs and shouting later, you were furrowing your brows and gojo was back on the line. "ok, he thinks you aren't important enough to voicemail right now-"

"i never said that you stupid-"

"harsh," gojo retorted in a strangled tone right back, the faux offence grating your ears. "he doesn't think i should be calling you right now. inconsiderate." then, in a breathless whisper, he said, "call me later, mk? don't forget to congratulate your boyfriend. i expect a hero's welcome!"

the line cut short.

you texted him straight after: i am not in a relationship with you.

september 1st, 2006. 9:49pm.

"hey baby, i'm out on a mission right now. what's your favourite sweet? they've got mochi, mooncakes, and some pocky. chocolate, strawberry and cream flavoured. tell me and your beloved will bring you his war spoils."

at this point, you'd gotten used to his endearments already.

in your room, all cozied up in your blankets with a hot cup of honey-water in hand, you stared out the window, admiring the nighttime stars. somewhere out there, gojo was fighting.

"you've got to start answering my calls." you could hear him pouting so vividly it chilled you. "wanna hear your voice, baby."

his voice, you realised, was a nice accompaniment to your nighttime routine. he spoke neither too slowly nor too fast. nice and smooth too...

wait- what? you snapped out of it. no way you just complimented gojo satoru.

you dropped the phone on your bed, resolving to ignore him this time.

and the way he haunted your sleep.

may 25th, 2007. 2:00pm.

"baby baby baby, i'm this close to killing all the higher ups," satoru was mumbling against the phone, the usual smoothness of his voice sunken into callousness. you still couldn't believe he was talking to you like you're there with him; he's miles away. "a two week mission. what were they thinking?

"hmph. it's not even a curse i'm suited to." suddenly realising what he insinuated, gojo added, "easy to exorcise, of course, but so troublesome. they should've hired someone with a slower, more detective-heavy technique. they're keeping me away from you... god, are you forgetting me?"

you listened to him while standing outside a classroom at jujutsu high. geto gave you a wry smile: can't get enough of him, mm? you shot him an angry glare.

it didn't prepare you for the sound that slipped out of the phone.

a whisper.

"do you think i should?"

then you were clutching the phone to your ear, fighting the urge to put his voice on speaker to hear properly, clinging onto every word that escaped him.

"d'you think i should kill the higher ups?"

for the first time since being forced to receive gojo satoru's number, you pressed call.

"... hey bab-"

"gojo satoru," you said his name with a meaning, like you knew exactly what it was meant for, to strike him at his very core. "i like you. stop thinking about murder."

november 20th, 2018. 5:24pm.

"babe... talk to me. i'm sorry, didn't mean to get trapped in that box in the first place. it's just part of the job. it's nothing. i'm the strongest. plus, i got out just fine.

"i..." careful and slow, his tone resumed a certain responsibility. it showed that he was trying. "... should've been careful, for you. i know that now.

"just come back and talk to me."

november 20th, 2009. 6:30pm.

"babe babe babe babe baby. please..."

november 28th, 2018. 10:23pm.

"hey baby, i'm thinking of taking a break from the jujutsu world after this. let's go on a nice holiday, just you and me. god that'll be fun... m'thinkin of you on the beach." a cheeky lilt crossed his voice. "hah- just joking... maybe. hold on a little more, mk? year's nearly over. i'll pay for it all, the trip. and, well, you know what we were saying about getting married... yeah. okinawa's a pretty place, isn't it? i overheard nanami talking to his friend bout it just then actually."

december 1st, 2018. 00:58am.

"hi baby. it's late. i know. i've been busy." he paused.

silence flooded the line for about five seconds. it was as though his lungs were convulsing in bursts of breath under the weight of things unsaid. he kept quiet.

then, he was moving around, shifting uncomfortably. he wanted to end the voicemail, didn't know why he started it to begin with.

all you heard before the voicemail ended was:

"stay safe."

december 24, 2018. 4:35am.

"hey baby, i just wanna say... i love you."

you lift your hand up to your mouth, bottling the cry that aches to get out of you. the brutally familiar voice of the white haired sorcerer rasps against your ear. then he breaks out in a dazzlingly clear laughter.

"i... really do. this isn't a joke or anything. i know you know already, but i wanted to tell you." you could guess the ensuing words straight from his mouth. "i don't know if i'll win."

there it is. despite yourself, you smile, treasuring the vulnerability he's shown.

"sorry, i'm not sure why i said that. of course i'll win." you can imagine him puffing his chest out on the other line, confidence filling up his voice once more. "but maybe... in case i don't...

"we had a good run, didn't we?"

you let out a shaky breath.

yeah. we did.

"when i come back, i expect a hero's welcome. ok, babe?"

you're chuckling to yourself as he rambles on and on about kikufuku mochi and a holiday in okinawa, just him and you. no higher ups allowed. no responsibilities. you enjoy the lilt of his voice, terrifying smooth and there despite no real presence.

at last, you put down the phone. a low static drones throughout the apartment.

your photo albums collated on the cupboards, the messy unmade bed, just as you'd left it. two mugs in the kitchen. two pairs of slippers at the doorway.

your thumb drifts away from the replay button. you close your eyes, willing his stupidly annoying voice to haunt you one more time. to taunt you, to tease you, to tell you what you want to hear.

not gojo's very last voice message.

"yuta..."

you couldn't bring yourself to look up. the height, the weight, the figure. shoko had told you to prepare yourself to see the exact replica of your lover before you.

you know that is impossible... nothing could replace satoru.

your resolve is knocked out of you when you see him. only a glimpse... but the same face, same lips and nose and hair and- oh, your breath catches. same eyes. maybe you couldn't... maybe you couldn't tell the difference after all-

"y/n?"

finally you gather the courage to study him properly.

"yuta," you acknowledge.

you know for certain this is not satoru.

for your satoru had a different voice, clear and powerful as the ocean waves. your satoru spoke with purpose, the undeniable confidence he was right, always, and could not be knocked down. your satoru had a penchant he would not let go of calling you baby.

[intheholler]

i’ve seen a lot of people (namely on TikTok) driving through Appalachian towns just showing off the place and all of the comments are along the lines of “well they vote red this is what they get” and it's been pissing me off but I can't put words to it. like yes it's classicism but there's something else i can't put my finger on it and wanted to put that phenomenon out there to see what others think

i feel like i know what you're talking about and its a very indignant feeling.

this prompted me to have a conversation with my wife about this, and she kind of summed up what i was also having a hard time putting into words:

people just want to be better than other people.

like, until we grow the fuck up and realize we aren't the main character, we want to be better than everyone else because it feels good, and it's easy.

specifically where appalachia is concerned:

people come to the hollers to film their poverty porn and make shitty comments because they want to separate themselves from us Bad Poor People. we aren't the Right Kind Of Poor, so they can feel good about themselves and relieve themselves of social responsibility.

in this case, it becomes easy to dismiss us and our struggles because we "voted this way" (even tho chances are we did not)

because in so doing, they can other us as The Bad People.

Good People Like Them don't have to help The Bad People Like Us, and they don't have to feel guilty about--at the absolute least--not makin it worse on us with their bullshit, because we're just Bad and that's that.

we don't deserve their help because we 'brought it on ourselves,' so it becomes a personal failure/shortcoming of ours instead of the actionable issue of systemic disenfrachisement that it is, and which could help us fight if they really cared.

so, yeah, it feels to me like a blend of classism + some internalized superiority. they feel this superiority over us because of the very stereotypes they perpetuate (such as this massive region being an exclusively maga-country monolith, in this case) which has given them a gross complex.

i still didn't articulate that well but i hope it made sense.

what about y'all? appalachia residents and non-residents invited to answer

[mysticmunson]

here’s an idea i’d love to see you bring to life if it peaks your interest: alpha eddie and omega reader where it’s soon after they presented so her heat isn’t regulated yet and they are on a school trip or weekend away or something semi public like that and she gets her heat and obviously attracts the attention of other alphas in the school/area and he has to keep her safe/save her from said unruly alphas who want to mate her and he gets super protective and all strong alpha she’s mine vibes, that’s my thought, hope you like it xx

camp trails (alpha!eddie munson x omega!reader)

authors note: hi babes! thank you for the request, i love this idea and am a total simp for protective tropes. i have a small headache atm so i whipped this up fairly quickly, but i hope you enjoy! feedback and requests and welcomed :)

warnings: violence, sexual themes (18+)

The yearly trip to the camp grounds became mandatory for seniors this semester, making all the students dread the weekend afoot. Eddie had tried to wager with the teachers to allow him to drive himself, but he may have been the last person they would’ve allowed that to. 

The bus came to a screeching halt, catapulting the unguarded students to the seat in front of them, a sequence of groans following. The doors swung open, greeted by the rural spring air that blew in as they made their way out. 

Eddie grabbed your hand, walking out with you to observe his surroundings, nose scrunching at the cabins and broad lake. The water glistened with small ripples, some stray leaves floating on top with moss on the sides.

“Alright, line up!” Mr. Richmond hollered, diverting the attention to the man on top of the wooden block. A woman and a man stood on each side, wearing shirts with the camp's logo on it in teal font. The bag slung over your shoulder itched the bare skin there, shifting your shoulders uncomfortably.

There was a silent attendance being taken, the clipboard slotted in Mr. Richmond’s hands, a pen between his fingers as his eyes scanned the sea of 18 and 19 year olds, and one 20 year old with long brown hair.

“Now, we’ll go ahead and put our things away. Girls, you’ll be with Miss Carrie in the left cabin.” He instructed, the petite blonde waving, “And boys, you’ll be with Mr Anthony in the right cabin.” 

Separating, you wandered into the spacious wooden chamber, choosing a bottom bunk near the door. Robin snagged the bed above yours, spraying some extra perfume on and running her hand through her short hair.

The other girls joked about what beds they would own for the night, giggling and teasing one another, making you smile. Since presenting, you spent a lot of time with Eddie, which you adored, but sometimes being surrounded by feminine energy was refreshing. The tug on your hand that sent you walking snapped you from your daze, Robin yanking you to her side as she laughed at your aloofness. 

Joining the other students by the waterside, you felt lingering eyes on you while yours trained on the small snails going between the blades of debris. Crouching down, you sat gingerly on the damp grass, Robin joining beside you with less grace and a huff.

“Wonder how long it’ll be before a meathead starts a fight?” She pondered, glancing at the boys who were throwing around a football, their varsity jackets hung on a tree branch.

“At least we’ll get some entertainment.” You shrugged, plucking a small yellow flower from the unkept grounds, putting it behind your friend’s ear. She rolled her eyes, a pink flush coming across her cheeks nonetheless.

More students trickled out, bringing boomboxes and blankets, trying to make the most of this unwilling vacation. The squeak of combat boots came from behind you, glancing back to see your boyfriend, sitting and pulling you against his body. 

Robin fake gagged, now used to this behavior from the two of you, but choosing to see where Vicky had run off to. Leaning against his shoulder, the heat was radiating off his black shirt, his arms not covered in jackets for once due to the warm air. 

“Can’t believe we have to stay in separate rooms.” He complained, a pout on his lips that you desperately wanted to kiss away. 

“I know, but it’s school rules and it’ll just be a night.” You assured, patting his thigh through his black jeans, noticing the way his muscles relaxed. 

Meals were provided, just some sandwiches and chips, while a snack table did remain stocked. You sat with Eddie, Robin, and Vicky, sharing your joint disdain for the trip entirely. There was peace in knowing others were suffering in a similar fashion, not wanting to be the odd one out.

Separate pockets of students began ways to occupy themselves, Eddie joining a card game with fellow nerds and you went to paint with some of the other girls on the other part of the land. Unwarranted nerves pooled in your stomach, attributing it to being away from home, focusing on the task at hand instead.

Dipping a thin paint brush into the small jar of water that was now murky with blended colors, you began a simple skyline, adding unrealistic clouds of white. The girls around you were within arms reach, sat on the same tattered blanket, but somehow they couldn’t feel farther. 

The inescapable loneliness that followed presenting wasn’t something you expected, but you were one of the first omegas in your year, something that made you different. It wasn’t easy to explain the alterations that came with presenting, both mentally and physically, causing a silent divide to your peers.

“I think I’m gonna go for a walk.” You announced, tilting your head towards the walking trail ahead, dim lights illuminating it. They affirmed nonchalantly, going back to their art and discussing which boy the thought would present next. 

Stray fireflies joined you on your journey, tightening your jacket around your frame as a stick broke under your sneakers. Spotting a garden snake slithering by in the bushes, you smiled at how it reminded you of Eddie and his infatuation with reptiles. He was the type of kid to read books about the scaly creatures, knowing which were poisonous or harmless.

While he had been your best friend for many years, the newfound deeper connection made you feel conjoined. It felt odd to be away from him for too long, wanting to hear every detail of his day, from what shaving cream he used to what song he listened to in the car.

The sharp pain targeted your lower abdomen again, wincing as your eyes screwed shut. Your breath quickened as the air seemed to grow warmer, a sweat breaking as you looked around, until you felt a dampness under your dress.

All senses were replaced with fear and need, sitting on an old tree stump with your legs pulled to your chest. Your heat had just come 2 weeks ago, convincing yourself this must be a false one, but all the symptoms were analogous to those. 

“Hey there.” You heard a low voice, seeing a boy from your English class named Jackson, sauntering closer. “Did you get lost?”

You remained silent as you remembered he had just presented as an alpha, having missed the beginning of the month for it. As if on cue, the sound of leaves crunching brought two more new alpha’s, Luke and Noah.

Gulping, you stood up, toying with the bottom of your dress as your eyes turned glossy. The slick was pooling in your underwear at this point, knowing it couldn’t be long till it trickled down your leg, squeezing your thighs in a pointless attempt to gain control. 

“Need some help, gorgeous?” Luke smirked, inhaling deeply as he managed to walk you back into the large oak tree, birds shuffling out from the bundles of leaves. Instincts kicked in as you bolted, hoping to find an easy exit with the boys hot on your tail, yelling. 

Meanwhile, Eddie had been engrossed in a game of poker when he smelt it, the hairs on his arms standing straight up as he tried to shake it off. Figuring it had to be another student, he finished the round, huffing at his loss of a smuggled can of beer.

The girls you had joined to paint with were walking to the cafeteria table, setting them to dry as he approached, questioning where you were as he didn’t even spot an extra canvas.

“She went for a walk, some boys went after her a few minutes ago because it was getting dark.” Tasha quipped, lighting a dusty candle on the table, illuminating the glossy artwork. 

His feet went quicker than his mind as he cursed to himself, heart plummeting at the fear you were alone, stopping at the payphone to tell Jeff to take his car and Gareth to drive his van over and head back in Jeff’s. The trail was bigger than he thought, leading to various points in the park, trying to depend on his inclinations. 

Avoiding the designated trail, he chose the unruly woods within it as he tried to find a shortcut. As each footprint was ingrained in the dirt, his indignation for this trip and scenario further solidified. 

His movement was stopped when he heard a sharp yelp, sprinting despite the restrictive denim on his legs and weight of his boots. Once back on the trail, he kept his eyes peeled in all directions with clenched fists. The scent was more poignant now, knowing it was you who it belonged to, making his fear grow alongside the anger.

The sound of struggle carried through the trees before he finally found you, a peer with his arms wrapped around your waist with restricted arms as the other two tried meaningless attempts to calm you. 

“Hey!” Eddie shouted, stomping over with such feverishness that the boy's all looked towards him, feeling the grip around you tighten, “Put her down.”

“Or what? I think the lady needs help, finders keepers, freak.” Noah sneered, standing in front of the boy who held you, but his powerful stance didn’t last long as a punch landed on his right cheek. 

Another set of hands grabbed the back of Eddie’s collar, but the pure protective fury burning made him quickly turn and punch the other one down too. He put his hands around the neck of the one holding you, the man beginning to yell.

While these boys could take a hit, they saw the blind rage in Eddie’s eyes, not wanting to discover what he was capable of. It was one of the only perks about being the town freak, you were infamous enough to be gossiped about, but outlandish enough to be whatever you needed to be in the moment.

“Try that shit again with her or any other girl and I will make you an early grave.” He gritted as they clutched their afflictions, “She is my fucking omega and if you even look in her direction, I will make your life a living hell.” 

The boys looked bewildered as he turned around, wondering if he’d freak out again on them, but his focus was on you, rushing you away. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” He asked, seeing how your focus was on your direct eyesight before you, not wavering to any other location. The tremble in your hands as he grabbed it only increased the farther you got to the exit. 

Wordlessly scooping you in his arms, you finally allowed yourself to cry, the saltiness traveling down your cheeks and to your lips. Everything became muffled as you descended into your own headspace, embracing Eddie’s aroma that felt more prevalent than ever. 

Unbeknownst to you, Robin rushed towards you both as Eddie asked for her to grab your bag. Seeing the sternness on his features and your fragile state, she complied without witt, rushing to the cabins. 

Grateful to have called the boys, the keys to his own van were set on his bunk as he raced in, glad to not see any classmates. Quickly grabbing his bag, he marched over to his prized possession, yanking open the door to put you down. Robin came running with your own things, tossing it into the back seat and mentioning how she’ll inform a teacher on where you went.

“You gotta let go, baby. I just need to walk to the other side.” He consoled, trying to ease your placement from his neck, “Good girl.”

He jogged over, your frame already condensed into a ball, laying on your side with a slant due to the seatbelt. Kicking the car on, he tried obeying as many laws as he could consider, but his main focus was getting you somewhere safe.

He gave you his nightshirt from his bag, letting you simulate a nest until returning to the trailer park. A calming hand stroked your back lovingly, hushing your sounds of discontentment. 

The arrival didn’t register in your brain until you were being tossed on Eddie’s blue sheets, eyes opening wide to take in your surroundings for a brief moment until his lips were on yours. 

The taste on his tongue would never lose its power on you, feeling like you were discovering the eighth wonder of the world every time it trailed against your skin, making you come to peace with the safety created by him in the world of just the two of you. 

“You’re my girl, my omega, I’m never going to let anyone hurt you.” He whispered, kissing your blazing skin as he undid your clothes, undoing any barrier you had internally with his words.

While each heat was overwhelming, there were always moments that brought you into a version of purgatory, not feeling neutral or spacey, or grounded. An area within our galaxy where you both were the only inhabitants, aliens to the outside world, but making perfect sense within them.

The language you conversed in belonged to your bodies, unable to process the communication outside of those times, finding your bodies knew each other long before your meeting years ago. You wondered if this feeling was common with every mating pair, but as you looked into his doe-brown eyes, you knew there was no way a world could be so cruel if they felt like this at least once in their lifetime.

taglist plus friends/people i saw enjoyed my other work :) let me know if you'd like to not be tagged: @elizabethmidnight2017 @iheartyouyou @forksloree @fantastic-fantasy-fanfics @sillypurplemurple @prettyboyeddiemunson @andvys @funsonmunson-again @ceriseheaven @indouloureux @lilacletter @edsforehead @akiratoro420 @corkadymu

[milkywaydrabbles]

Number 15 for Alucard, it'd be so cute!

A/N: I don't think this is the fluff you were expecting LOL I promise it's a happy ending but the angst took over. In case you (or anyone else) was wondering the song is Cherry Wine by Hozier (i'm in my feels right now about this man I'm sorry) Anyways I hope you like it mwuaaah

"Sing to me again" x Alucard

Fight.

Attack.

Defend.

Alucard couldn’t think of anything except you and the baby while he was on the front line. The village had been so peaceful, for long he nearly forgot there were still monsters crawling around in the world. The stragglers that had grown stronger, the ones who persevered throughout the days, weeks, months. The stragglers that had already killed some of the makeshift infantrymen, the ones who have had nothing but time on their hands and are so hungry they see red. The stragglers that had Alucard running out to defend the village while you stay hidden away deep in the castle, barricaded and locked behind the safety of your shared home. They were evolved, instantly locking onto the dhampir who was the strongest amongst the men, bloodied grins widening: teeth sharp as blades that could tear through muscle and sinew with ease.  Alucard steadied himself, gripping a little tighter onto his shield and sword, kissing its hilt and imagining your sweet face, the sweet face of his newborn daughter, and lunged.

-

You were frantic, trying so hard to stay calm if only for your energy not to be poured into the babe huffing and crying in your arms. You’d been trying to put her to bed, but how could she? How could she sleep when she felt your panic, your anxiety pulsing into the very air she breathed in? How could she sleep when your soothing rocking was more jarring than anything, your voice shaky as you shushed her? How could you ever expect her to calm her sorrows when, if you tried hard enough, you heard the incessant howls and screeches from the deadly monsters outside castle walls.  You prayed, you prayed to all the deities and gods that could ever possibly exist to bring your Adrian back home. You’d never worry like this, he’s so strong, fending off the monsters with ease. But you’d never seen him so nervous like this either: having the heavy knocks of men on the castle doors begging for saving. The sheer strength of the creatures overwhelming them. 

What felt like days passed, it could have been a few minutes, it could have been a few hours. You’re not sure, you and your daughter going in and out of sleep, waking at every creak and bang that was heard. You shushed and cooed, steadying yourself the best you could to maybe sing a lullaby to your darling girl. “Shh, shh, I know sweet pea--I miss him too. But he’ll be safe, he’ll come back..” You whispered, kissing her forehead as a tiny hand balled into a fist rubbed at scrunched up eyes. 

Her eyes and words are so icy oh, but she burns like rum on the fire. Hot and fast and angry as she can be, I walk my days on a wire. 

It looks ugly, but it’s clean, oh momma don’t fuss over me.

Way she tells me I’m hers, and she’s mine. Open hand or closed fist, would be fine. The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

The cries lulled to a few whines and whimpers, holding her to your chest as you continued your hushed tones.

Calls of guilty thrown at me, all while she stains the sheets of some other. Thrown at me so powerfully just like, she throws the arm of her brother.

But I want it, it’s a crime, that she’s not around most of the time.

Way she tells me I’m hers, and she’s mine. Open hand or closed fist, would be fine. The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

Singing has calmed you enough to keep a gentle bounce, baby slowly falling asleep in your arms. You internally sighed, thankful that at least the immediate worry of your child has been quelled. 

Now all you can do is wait for your beloved.

-

Alucard ended the life of the final monster, hearing the victorious cries and hollers of the villagemen around him. He was grateful the battle had ended, retreating quickly to your shared home, finally able to hold you in his arms. Slowly, he opened the doors, knowing any sudden movements could stir his (hopefully) sleeping baby girl. He didn’t want to increase your stress, already guilty that he had to leave you in disarray. He made his way to the room he’d left you in, sure you’d still be in there: the nursery. The very nursery that you two built with your own hands, right next to his old bedroom.

Just like Vlad and Lisa.

 As Alucard got closer, he heard small hiccups and babbles from his daughter, along with the soft singing coming from you. He recognized the song, a song you’d often sing to yourself when you thought he wasn’t listening. The same song you’d sing into his hair when he was half asleep. He pressed the door open, his heart stopping at the very sight of you whispering the song into your daughter’s fluffy mess of a head, eyes closed. You hadn’t noticed him, and he was grateful. He wanted to just take in the moment, all panic and anxiety of constantly thinking that something might have happened, that something might have gotten through the castle, all quelled the moment he saw you both. 

He let you finish, giving you a moment before softly knocking on the door, your eyes darting to him immediately, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. “Adrian..” You whispered, voice heavy. He crossed the threshold, kneeling at your feet and holding you both without disturbing the sweet babe. “Oh thank god you’re safe.” You did your best not to cry, you really did, not realizing just how scared you were for his safety. But he was alive and well and back in your arms. “I’m here now, love, I’ll keep you both safe always.” He whispered into your hair, looking down at his baby with adoration. 

“I heard you singing, love.” You hummed, calm enough now to put your girl down in her crib. The moment you sat back down though, Alucard’s head rested on your lap, hugging at your legs. You pet his hair, combing your fingers through the blond tresses. You hummed the melody of the song to him as his eyes fluttered close, breathing even. By the end you’d thought he’d already falling asleep, instead he spoke a whisper: “My darling, will you sing to me again?” Your heart clenched, and with a smile you responded:

“As long as you keep coming home to us, I’ll sing to you every day.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Black Light 13

Warnings: noncon, namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You don't go home. He might be big and scary but you're a grown woman. He made sure of that, didn't he? So you disappear into the shadows and lurk, watching the girls in their shimmering dresses and the men in their open collars line up for entry.

August stands on one side of the doors, Lee the other, and they go about their work. They stop pairs and groups to check cards and wave them inside, pointing others back onto the street. One man refuses and receives a violent shake from your man. You almost giggle as you peer around the chipped brick.

It slows down to only a few ambitious clubbers here and there. It must get boring just standing outside and staring at the street. No wonder he's so moody. The only thing exciting in his life is his own emotion. You can't judge, you don't have much going on either. You haven't even got a summer job. Wait, that's a brilliant idea.

You calm yourself. Tonight, you have another mission. You just have to be patient.

You smile and nearly bounce in place. Oh, you are excited. It will have to wait of course, but it's always nice to have a purpose.

You yawn as your phone jitters. You turn away to hide the glow and check the notifications. It's Hottie. Her ID makes your stomach churn. For some reason, the idea of seeing her again makes you nauseous. Almost as if she did, she'd see right through you. She's so smart and tough, and you... you let him follow you and then...

Oh but it's such a special moment, you just want to bask in the afterglow just a little longer.

-

It's early. Or late, depending on your point of view. Time has always been a conundrum to you. A line with no end.

You watch as the club empties out, last call ending with a deafening silence. The absence of the blaring music is louder than its thumping bass. You linger, rubbing your eyes, yawning once more.

You back up as girls teeter past drunkenly in their heels. You can't see the front doors but you know he won't leave right away. He has to make sure everyone's out. You wait until the coast is clear and go to peek out once more.

Your mind wanders, as it often does, and you think of that day when he came to get that couch. You remember his truck... Hmmmm.

You creep across the street like a cat. You stay close to the wall as you approach the club and dip around to the lot. There aren't many cars there. You turn on your phone light and squint; you think that's the right plate. It is the only truck in the lot.

You shut off the light and put your phone away. You hug your scrapbook under one arm and step up on the large tire. You haul yourself up and flip over the top, landing heavily as the book falls out of your grasp. You retrieve it as you gasp for breath and drag yourself into the corner. He won't check back here, besides it's too dark.

You lay folded against the metal and try not to fall asleep. It's tempting as it's nearly three in the morning. You hear a door clatter open and shut, voices tossed back and forth. A deeper voice met by a sheepish murmur. You hold your breath until they fade away and the door opens again.

Footsteps and nothing else. Boots mulching on the stray bits of gravel across the pavement. The truck chirps as it unlocks and shifts as the driver side door swings out. Oh, it's him!

You lock up and fight the urge to jump out and holler 'surprise'. In due time.

He turns the engine over and reverses out with a sharp veer. You're jostled by the movement as he puts his foots down on the pedal. Oh god, he's an aggressive driver.

You're wide awake as he takes corners with no caution. He is consistent. You latch onto your scrap book, not wanting it to slide around and give you away. The cool night blows over you and sends a shiver up your spine.

Finally, he slows, coming to a halt after another jolting veer. You wait and listen as he gets out, grumbling in that cute way he does. You sit up and edge over to the other side. You watch his shadow and push yourself back as he passes.

As he turns between the next row of cars, you scramble to hope out of the truck bed and use the bumper to lower yourself down. You run after him, puffing as he walks steadily towards the apartment building. You're caught off guard as he turns and catches you by the throat. You squeak and drop the scrap book, clasping onto his thick wrist.

"Ach, Poo-kie," you croak out, "it's just me--"

He grunts and squeezes tighter before relenting, instead grasping the front of your shirt, "what are you doing?"

"Um, duh, I came to see you. My boyfriend--"

"Stop," he hisses, shaking you. "You're really starting to get on my nerves."

"Hey, don't be so rude," you hit his chest, "I came all the way out here in the middle of the night--"

"How did you get here? How do you know where I live?" He snarls.

You're silent. The truth might not help your case.

"Lucky guess?"

"Goddamn it, what--" he rasps, "you are insane. You are going to get yourself hurt, little girl. I told you, we only fucked."

"Well..." you bat your lashes, sliding your touch down his forearm, "we can do it again..."

"Huh?" He recoils, letting you go as you stagger on your feet.

"Yeah!" You clap your hands, "maybe this time it won't hurt that bad."

He's quiet, only letting out a deep exhale.

"You need to forget what happened--"

"How can I?" You counter, "it was my first. You're my first." Your voice grits as a swell of heat flows up from your stomach, "I won't forget."

"I'm telling you to go--"

"You said you love me," you pout.

"You made me--"

"And you made me do... do that thing," you accuse right back, "you don't just get to walk away."

Silence, again. He rolls his shoulders and crosses his arms, his silhouette looming even larger.

"You should," he growls, "walk away before this gets messy."

"I'm not going to," you say, lip trembling.

He shakes his head and drops his arms. He steps closer and reaches for your shoulders, gripping tightly as he leans in.

"You don't learn easy, do you?" he sneers and lets a hand snake up to the back of his neck. He twists you around, pinching meanly as he marches you ahead of him. "I'll fucking teach you.”

[storm-angel989]

Outside The Office Part Twenty Six

I stepped into his studio as he was screaming at the cast on stage. His head turned around at the sound of the elevator stopping and his expression went from fearsome to soft in the span of a heartbeat. 

“My princessa, what are you doing here?” He asked as he stood up and strode over to me. His arm fell over my shoulder and he guided me away from the stage, towards his office. “I don’t think you’ll want to see this particular scene. Tell me, did you do all the work Vox had for you?” 

“Val, I need to talk to you,” I whispered shakily. “Please?”

“Anything, princessa. Behind closed doors.” 

He turned around and hollered for his actors to take twenty. I didn’t have the chance to look behind me, but I could hear their footsteps scatter about. Together, we stepped into his office and he closed and locked the door behind us. 

“What’s wrong, mi amore?” He asked gently. His fingers brushed against my cheek as he studied my expression. “Did someone hurt you?”

“No one hurt me, except me..” I began. It all spilled out. The failure with Lucifer. My feelings. My insecurity. My disorted, fucked up workouts. Throwing out breakfast. When I had exhausted all my admissions, I waited for him to yell, to scream. To leave me, a problem to toss aside. 

He didn’t do any of that. 

Instead, he folded me into his arms and cradled me against his chest.

“I am so glad you shared this with me, my love.” He said softly. “Thank you.” He pressed his lips to my forehead, and pulled me back by my shoulders so his eyes met mine.  “Sweetheart, I won’t hurt you, I promise. But I also can’t let you hurt yourself. You understand that, right, princessa?” 

Here it came. The punishment. I closed my eyes and braced myself against his grasp. He would yell at me. Leave me. Insult me. I was sure of it. 

“So tomorrow, we’ll get up early and go to the gym together. I may not be able to workout alongside you, but at the very least I can get paperwork done while you do your thing. You said Vox gave you a workout plan?” 

I opened my eyes and stared at him. Where was the yelling, the threat to leave? The punishment I was so used to?

“That’s it? You’re just going to…come with me? Spend extra time with me?” I asked slowly. 

It was his turn to look confused. “Well…yes, Princessa. If you’re having a hard time, I’m not going to leave you alone to fight that battle by yourself. Did you have a different expectation in mind?”

Yes. I did. And again, Valentino proved his point. He wouldn’t hurt me. 

“I…I was expecting…”

“Harshness and lack of empathy?” He raised an eyebrow but kissed my forehead. “Sorry to disappoint, mi amore. Though I also think it’s a good idea for you to be checked out by our on duty nurse practitioner. Just to be on the safe side and I would feel better, given what you’ve gone through. Can you agree to that?” 

I hesitated but agreed after a moment. I wasn’t exactly in the position to negotiate. 

He led me out of his office, his hand in mine. A quick turn to the left and he pushed open a door. Inside were several hospital beds, a couple of pieces of equipment. Countertops lined the exterior, carefully labeled for ease of access to the contents inside. The entire room was brightly lit and smelled like antiseptic. 

“Why do you have this in a porn studio?” I asked as he guided me to a bed. 

“Two reasons. One- There is a kink for that. We shoot in here on occasions. Other times, our actors have….difficulties that require medical intervention. It’s more convenient just to handle it in house.” He answered as if it was totally normal. “Take a seat on the bed.” 

I grimaced. “Are you sure it’s safe to sit down?” 

He rolled his eyes and pushed on my shoulders lightly so I sat at the end of the bed. “It’s clean, princessa. More so than I’m sure most hospitals are. Put the gown on.” He pointed to a folded pile of cloth and gave me a look. “Now. And Stay here, I’ll go get the nurse.” He pulled a curtain shut behind him as he walked away. 

I did as he instructed, and waited for less than a moment before he reappeared, followed by a demon who looked more like a porn star than a nurse. Her long dark hair flowed down to her waist and her eyes were a bright green color. She had a slender build and wore stilettos and a white dress with a red cross stitched on the pocket- both completely inappropriate for nursing. I felt a twinge of envy as I watched the familiar way she spoke with Valentino, that got even worse when she smiled. She ran her hand down his arm for a fraction of a second.

“Does anything hurt?” She cooed, more to him than to me. “Val filled me in on the details.” She snapped on a blue pair of gloves. 

A flush of embarrassment at my current appearance, quickly replaced by anger. I scowled at her. How dare she put her hands on my Valentino? 

He seemed to recognize my expression and amusement flitted across his face. He pointedly bent down and kissed the top of my head. 

“Answer the nurse honestly, my Princessa. Does anything hurt?”

“No.” I replied shortly. “I’m only here because you wanted me to get checked out.” 

He didn’t even try to hide his amusement. “Don’t be snarky, mi amore.” 

“Alrighty then, open wide for me.” The nurse responded. “And say ah.” 

I couldn’t have disliked this situation more than I already did. Unlike Valentino, or even the doctors who examined me with Lucifer, she gave no indication of softness. No warning when the pressed the stethoscope to my chest. She didn’t ask permission- she simply instructed, pulled, pressed and yanked. Anxiety knotted in my stomach. It felt more like an annual exam I would have gotten in the angelic military than a routine checkup. Finally, she pulled away. 

“Depending on how through you want to be, I can suggest we schedule several of the more invasive tests for her later on this week. But from first glance, she seems fine. I would suggest at minimum taking blood and monitoring her vitals over the course of the next week,” she said to Valentino with a surly smile. 

I looked at Valentino. He reached over, took my hand, and squeezed it gently. The nurse gave me a look. One Valentino seemed to notice. His demeanor shifted. Something darker, more dismissive.

“Blood work will be enough, Luisa.” He replied sharply. “No need to schedule anything else. And  I can pull her blood myself. Just bring me the supplies.” 

She gave me a reproachful look but nodded and stood up. She dug through the drawer next to the bed and laid the supplies on the small countertop.  

“That will be all Lusia.” Valentino said coldly. “Leave us.”

I watched as she skittered out the door. He stood up and tugged the curtain back closed. I felt my heart give a little jump and I reached out to take his hand. My Valentino. 

He squeezed my hand gently and then released. “Let me see your arm, mi amore,” he said as he snapped on the blue gloves.

I offered him the arm closest to him. His fingers traced the crook of my elbow and he frowned. “You haven’t given me much to work with here, princessa. Let me see the other arm.” 

I showed him. He shook his head and compared them side by side. Finally, he sighed. 

“You are extremely dehydrated, mi amore. When was the last time you drank water or a Sweet Sixteen?” He tied a rubber tourniquet over the top of my arm. 

“I had water with Vox when we had lunch.”

“Mmm. I’m tempted to let you sit here with a bag of fluids before I even attempt to take blood,” he replied as he released the tourniquet and gently pressed on the veins. “Be still. I’m going to try to only do this once.” 

I closed my eyes and looked away. I felt the coolness of the antiseptic, and a pinch. I closed my eyes tighter as a wave of nausea and dizziness ran over me. Maybe those fluids weren't such a bad idea. 

“You can look now, it's in. Sit tight, I’m going to run a line.” 

I heard the sound of him pulling off his gloves and the rustle of the curtain. His footsteps as they came back to me. A tug as my arm, and finally, his voice again. 

“Princessa? You’re all set. You should start to feel better in a few minutes.” Valentino said softly.

I felt his lips press against mine and his hand gently squeeze my wrist. I opened my eyes and he gave me another kiss.

“Rest, princessa. You need not be so rough on yourself,” he continued gently. 

“Being easy on myself isn’t exactly in my nature,” I replied.

He raised an eyebrow, but whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a rush of familiar power that cut through the room like a knife. Valentino’s hand pressed against my shoulder, preventing me from sitting up. 

“I mean, you’re half right,” Lucifer said drily as at the base of the bed. “Though even I thought that your logical sense was stronger than you proved it to be.” Lucifer looked at Valentino. “Can you give my sweet, naive, stupid niece and I a moment?” Lucifer asked. “We need to chat.” 

Ah shit.

[looneyleyle]

bitchy kie ~ j. maybank

synopsis: midsummer's and john b's hospital visit seem to push kie to snap, at her best friend in the world nonetheless. snap crackle pop!

warnings: some kie hate

words: 1882 words

note: from my wattpad account, written april 18 2022

paisley pov

kiara and i rarely ever fought. sure, we'd have petty quarrels every now and again, but never any full blown fight. this, however, was much different than any other time, and i didn't have the slightest clue as to what i did wrong.

kiara had invited me to midsummer's, despite me being a pogue. her parents had essentially taken me in when i started working at the wreck two years ago. they had even lent me a beautiful dress for the occasion. it was short, wavy at the skirt, and light orange, paired with a beautiful moon necklace. mrs. carrera even made me a flower crown, which i couldn't thank her enough for.

everything leading up to midsummer's went just fine. kie and i got ready, throwing compliments at each other left and right. we blasted music throughout the room, dancing playfully like the two teenage girls we are. when we got to midsummer's, we made snarky comments about the kooks, and we had to hold each other to contain our laughter when rose cameron waltzed in with that absolute monstrosity perched upon her head. when pope arrived, the air was still light, the three of us joking around, trying to keep our minds off of the incident with jj earlier on.

i think it all went downhill when jj was being escorted off of the premises by one of the guards. as kie was going to speak up for him, i yelled out about how he was my date, and that they had no right to throw him out. kie had her parents watching, and us pogues were already on thin ice with them. it was best for them to be mad at me for bringing jj than for them to be mad at kie for bringing him and 'embarrassing the family name' or some other bullshit kook idea they have.

when the words escaped my lips, the guard pushed jj my way. i caught him and he put an arm around my waist, making my lie more believable. he then twirled me away from the scene to the music, downed some man's drink, and yelled for a mandatory pogue meeting at rixon's. holding my hand, he didn't wait for the others to follow behind us.

we all whooped and hollered, having a great time, before settling down for this mandatory meeting. john b brought up his treasure hunt again, leading me to look at jj skeptically. he squeezed my hand, motioning for me to keep listening.

i didn't look at kiara at all during the first half of the meeting, but when the name 'sarah cameron' was slipped, she went apeshit.

"you let a kook in on our secret?!" she screamed. they all went back and forth for a bit, kiara not calming down in the slightest.

when john b and kiara were done arguing, everything went silent.

"so…" jj trailed off, trying to find something, anything, to say. kiara raised her eyebrows at him, and then did the same to me. i looked at her questioningly, not understanding why she all of a sudden had beef with me. jj shifted a bit, making me aware of the arm that had been around my shoulders throughout the argument. i didn't pull away, however, and despite kiara's piercing glare boring into my soul, i found myself becoming drowsy. my eyes drooped as my head fell onto jj's shoulder.

when i woke up, i was in roughly the same position, but in the back of the van instead of around the fire pit. john b was nowhere to be seen, pope and jj were immersed in conversation, and kiara sat alone, staring out the window and towards hawks nest. i stayed in jj's arms, still teetering on the line between sleep and consciousness.

if possible, kiara's mood was soured even more by sarah cameron leaning over john b's limp body, crying, kissing his lips as if it were a disney movie. that mood continued as sarah insisted on staying by him at all times, waiting for him to wake up.

"i could honestly care less that john b decided to befriend that snake, but she acts as if she's the only one there for him! hello, he has four perfectly good friends right here who care about him way more than she could ever even fathom!" kiara ranted, the four of us sitting around the château. due to all the injuries agatha caused, there was a limit of two visitors per person in the hospital, and some mystery man and sarah cameron filled up those two spots before the rest of us could have a say.

"at least we know that he's in stable condition. he won't drop dead, it's just a matter of time before he wakes up." i suggested, trying to calm her down. she chuckled bitterly. a burst of anger went through my body, what did i do?

"if you have something to say, by all means, get it off your chest. you've been acting like a bitch ever since we left midsummer's." i told her, arms crossed in front of me. a quiet "ooooooh" came from jj, but i was focused on kie.

"it's easy for you to be all easy-going right now, isn't it? it's only john b in the hospital. but if your boy toy were in there, you'd be raising hell over the fact that we can't go and visit."

"my 'boy toy'? and who exactly is that?" i asked, irked and a bit genuinely confused as to who she's referring to.

"isn't it obvious? you two are practically joint at the hip! all you ever do is eye-fuck each other!" kie yelled. jj shifted against me, nearly glaring at kiara.

"drop it kie." he said lowly. she just laughed sarcastically at that, deflating. i didn't feel like talking to her anymore, so i dropped it and got up to leave.

"paisley? where're you going?" jj asked, also getting up.

"i'm going home. goodnight." i told him, already walking away. i heard him follow me, but i didn't protest.

surprisingly, jj didn't say anything for the whole walk. he stayed in stride with me, occasionally whistling a little tune. when we got to the little house i shared with my mom and siblings, he spoke up.

"you okay? i've never seen you and kie fight like that." a sigh escaped my lips.

"i don't know why she's being so pissy right now. we were fine up until midsummer's! then she's mad at me for trying to calm her down? like what the fuck was that all about?" i ranted. jj nodded, not saying anything.

"and then the whole 'boy toy' comment? like what was that?" at that, jj stayed silent for a bit.

"just give her some time, i'm sure she'll realize she's being crazy after all of this sarah stuff blows over." i nodded. the door to the house creaked open, making me jump. out of the door came my little brother, charlie. i crouched down and picked up his tired figure.

"hey charlie, why're you still up?" i asked, slightly bouncing him on my hip.

"i was waiting for you to come home. momma is at work and i need my night-night kisses." he said seriously, pouting. jj smiled softly at this and took charlie from me, holding him up in the air slightly.

"how 'bout i tuck you in while your sister gets ready for bed?" he asked in a slight baby voice. charlie gave jj a tired smile, nodding. my heart melted at the sight; two of the most important boys in my life together. jj carried charlie inside, holding the door open for me with his foot. i followed after the two quietly, not wanting to wake up anyone else in the house.

jj and charlie turned into the first bedroom on the right, while i crept further into the house until i got to my room. after wiping off my makeup and putting my hair up, i made my way back to the boys.

peering into the room, i watched as jj delicately placed the blankets around charlie.

"where are my goodnight kissies??" charlie whined tiredly. jj chuckled before moving some of charlie's hair out of his face and gave him a light kiss on the forehead.

"g'night buddy." he whispered, staying near the boy until his eyes closed and breathing softened. my heart squeezed as i watched the interaction. jj was so soft and loving with charlie and it absolutely melted my heart. i tiptoed in and placed a light kiss on charlie's head. i put his favorite stuffed animal in his arms and, together, jj and i walked out of his room.

i closed the door ever so slowly as to not disturb the sleeping child. when i turned around, jj was there, staring at me. the cocky smirk he usually held was nowhere to be seen. instead, a small smile played at his lips, his soft blue eyes focused on my face. for reasons i tried to repress for many months, i couldn't look at him for more than a couple seconds before fidgeting nervously. jj placed his hand under my chin and lifted it, gently forcing me to hold his stare. when his hand dropped, my eyes remained locked on his, anticipating his next move. however, after a couple moments passed by, jj looked away and scratched at the back of his neck.

"it's been a long day, let's get you to bed."

i let out a light chuckle at that, but followed him to my room regardless. he stood near the edge of my room as i grabbed my pajamas and, as i reach to take off my shirt, he turned around, giving me the privacy that i didn't even ask for. i stopped for a moment to take in the action before continuing to strip and change into comfier clothes. when i finished, jj was still turned around. off of a whim and slight exhaustion, i walked right up behind him and hugged him, burying my face into his back. all the emotions i had buried for the boy in front of me came bubbling up, making me squeeze the boy a bit tighter. he clasped his hands over mine, letting out a deep, content sigh.

"c'mon," he said quietly, shuffling us towards the bed. he crawled in after me, leaving a sizable distance between the two of us.

once settled in, the two of us simply stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought. after a while, i closed me eyes, taking in everything that had happened in the past couple of weeks, including what was happening in that moment.

"it feels like everything is falling apart." i whispered, not opening my eyes.

"yeah, it does," he replied. after a few seconds, there was a rustling besides me. i opened my eyes ever so slightly and turned, seeing jj laying there, giving me a soft smile.

"but we always manage to get through it together." he finished.

"together." i repeated, my eyes getting heavier, the weight of everything pushing down onto my body. and so, the two of us fell asleep, just a couple inches closer than when we first laid down.

[demxters]

— 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧: 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧, 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

robert ‘bob’ floyd x f!reader

summary: it’s thanksgiving at the floyd household and things don’t go to plan. especially when bob puts rooster on turkey duty...

wc: 2.0k 

warning(s): fem!reader, light description of raw meat, thanksgiving (yes it’s a warning)

part of the ‘fall’ series 

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊, 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃!

Bob only had two jobs: to buy the turkey and stay the hell out of your kitchen. He thought he was doing pretty well with his tasks up until you asked when Stanley said the turkey would be ready to be picked up. 

This was the first Thanksgiving you were spending in your new home in San Diego. Unfortunately, Bob’s parents and Amanda couldn’t make it this year but they promised to fly down for Christmas. 

When Bob offered to hold Thanksgiving at your place, the way his eyes lit up and the excitement in his voice made it hard for you to say no. You knew how bummed he was about being unable to spend Thanksgiving with his family, so the least you could do was give him the company of his work family. 

Bob knew all you wanted was for this dinner to be perfect. He wanted to help you in any way he could so when you told him to stay out of the kitchen and take care of the turkey order, he ultimately complied. It was for the best considering he wasn’t the greatest in the kitchen. 

So when he realized he forgot to do the one thing, the most important thing, you asked him to do Bob swore he almost had a heart attack.  He hollered nervously, “Should be ready soon, honey!” and all but jumped off the couch and bolted upstairs.

Bob came back down nearly an hour later and the commotion coming from the kitchen had him breaking the “no kitchen” rule. 

The squad seemed to have arrived while he communicated with Mav and Rooster about the turkey debacle. Bob noticed the absence of his two kids but sighed in relief once he saw them playing outside with Maverick and the Benjamins. 

Crowded around the kitchen counter was the Dagger Squad and in the center of it, his wife. You had that look on your face that told him you were not in a good mood. It was the look he saw when he forgot to do the laundry on Saturdays or when Tommy and Delilah got into another fight. Your brows pinched together and the lines on her forehead were more prominent as you gestured animatedly to what was on the polished granite. 

Hangman had a hand on his stomach, letting out a hearty laugh with Coyote while Payback and Fanboy shook their heads in disbelief. It looked like you were in a heated argument with Rooster when Phoenix spotted Bob standing in the doorway and beckoned him over. 

“If it isn’t the man of the hour,” Phoenix steps away from the gaggle of pilots to grab Bob by the arm. 

“What on Earth is going on here?” He questions, running a hand through his usually perfectly styled locks. 

Your hands are on your hips when you turn away from Rooster to face your husband. “Why don’t you tell me, Robert?” 

The kitchen fell quiet, the only sounds that could be heard were your children’s giggles from outside and the ticking clock on the wall. In all the six years they’ve known you, the pilots have never heard you call Bob by his first name. It was as rare as hearing any name other than Brandy from Bob’s lips whenever you were around. The low tone of your voice along with the way your eye twitched was enough to have the pilots rushing out of the kitchen and to the backyard. 

Rooster tries to slip away when you grab him by the elbow, keeping him in place. The two men look down at their boots in shame. Their demeanor was similar to one of a dog with its tail between its hind legs. 

Bob glances at the turkey and his heart drops to his stomach, absolutely taken off guard by how… strange it looked. The turkey was split open right down the middle and it looked stuffed with more meat. The second layer of meat was stuffed with another layer of meat, small enough to look like a liver. 

“What happened to the turkey?” He questioned, glaring at Rooster who held his hands up in surrender. 

“Don’t look at me, man. Stan said there weren't any turkeys left and that this was the best he could do,” Rooster explains with red cheeks. 

“Then why did you take it, Roos?” Bob sighs, now copying your stance with his hands on his hips. 

Rooster shrugs with a baffled expression on his face. “Because it’s technically still a turkey! Stan called it a turducken. It’s–” 

You wave Rooster off, needing no further explanation. “Yeah, yeah I know what turducken is. Thanks, Bradshaw.” 

He shoves his hands in his pockets and nods before dismissing himself. 

“Bob,” you exasperatedly sigh. “One job. You had one job. All I needed was for you to order the turkey and because you couldn’t do that, we’re stuck with this turkey, duck, chicken hybrid!” You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration, simultaneously shaking your head. “I can’t do this right now. I need to go lay down.” 

Bob watches you go with wide eyes and his heart breaks in two. He knew how important this dinner was for you and he screwed it up. He felt like the worst husband in the world right now, making his wife cry when all she’s done is try her best. 

He follows you upstairs, and heads to the master bedroom where he finds you laying on your side of the bed, with your back facing the door. “I’m so sorry, Brandy,” he wraps his arms around you, tucking you under his chin. “What can I do to make it better?” 

At the feeling of Bob’s embrace, you can’t help but turn around and bury your face into his chest. “You could’ve ordered the turkey when I asked you to,” you murmured into the fabric of his flannel. You were still mad at him, but his touch always had a way of putting out the fire in your veins when you were upset. 

“I know, I’m sorry honey.” Bob presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “Thanksgiving is ruined and it’s all my fault.” 

You pull yourself out of his hold, to look up at him in bewilderment. “You didn’t ruin Thanksgiving, Bobby. I don’t even know why I’m so bothered, it’s just the turkey. We still have the casserole and Penny’s famous mac and cheese. I’m moping like we don’t have food.” 

“Hey, you have every right to be upset. I put so much pressure on you by inviting everyone over. All you wanted was for things to be perfect.” 

Now you feel like the worst wife in the world. Bob has been nothing but loving and supportive throughout the entire move to San Diego. And you were making him feel like all he did was ruin things. That wasn’t it in the slightest. “I wanted things to be perfect for you and the squad! I saw how disappointed you were that Ma and Pa couldn’t make it so I just wanted to make you feel better.” 

“Oh, baby,” he brings his hands to your face, stroking your cheeks gently with fondness shining in his clear blue eyes. “It already is.” He looks through the kitchen window to see his kids playing dogfight football with the squad before looking back to you. 

You sniff, trying to conceal your tears. “Really?” 

Bob smiles. “Really. As long as I’ve got you and the kids by my side, I don’t care if our Thanksgivings are filled with turkeys, hams, or turduckens. Besides, the squad could care less if you gave them a huge feast or a box of pizza for dinner. They love you just the same. But not as much as I love you, of course.” 

That brings a smile to your face. 

Two sets of pattering footsteps make their way towards you as Bob exclaims, “Incoming!” He rolls with a wide grin. Your favorite little troublemakers jump onto the bed and tackle Bob, which makes you giggle. 

“Daddy, I want to see the turkey duck!” Delilah giggles. 

“Yeah, Uncle Rooster said there was a turkey duck in the kitchen!” Tommy adds. 

“Oh, brother,” you playfully roll your eyes while sitting up and grabbing Tommy off Bob’s back and into your arms. 

Delilah whines for her father to carry her too, and Bob obliges. He could never say no to his baby girl after all. 

“It’s a turducken, my loves,” Bob clarifies as they make their way downstairs. “It’s a turkey, chicken and duck all rolled up into one.”

“Eww!” The two grimace in unison. 

Your eyes grow wide at the sight of the seven naval aviators scrambling around your kitchen. Fanboy and Payback were arguing over a bowl of stuffing while Hangman and Coyote were egg washing some bread rolls. Phoenix was playing the role of commander as she, quite literally, told everyone what to do. Finally Penny, Mav, and Amelia were cleaning up the dining room so it was ready to be set. The scene is enough to bring tears to your eyes, seeing how much this little family cared. 

Tommy grabs your attention, telling you to follow Bob and Delilah.  

You give Phoenix a smile that you hope conveys gratefulness as you step to the side to stand next to Bob who is beside Rooster and the turducken. 

“It looks like an alien,” Delilah comments. 

“It stinks!” Tommy moans, pinching his nose and burying his face into your neck. 

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Rooster says. 

“Is this dinner?” Delilah looks between her parents, her nose crinkled at the pungent smell coming from the raw meat. 

“Yup, you’ve got Uncle Rooster and Daddy to thank for that,” you tease. 

“I don’t think we should invite Uncle Rooster to Thanksgiving next year.” Tommy whispers in your ear no discreetly. 

“Me too,” Delilah agrees with her twin. 

“Hey! You little rascals have ten seconds to run,” Rooster grumbles, counting down from ten. 

Your little ones squeal as you both put them down. Bob laughs as he watches his kids run off and hide behind Phoenix when Rooster runs to catch them. 

“You guys really didn’t have to do all this,” you breathe in disbelief. 

“Nonsense, Mrs. Floyd,” Hangman replies. 

Fanboy nods in agreement. “Yeah, we feel horrible that you worked so hard on this dinner and we messed it up.” 

“Actually, Rooster messed it up, but we’re taking the fall all the same. We are a team after all,” Phoenix chimes. 

“Now, sit back and relax, honey. We’ve got it from here, right guys?” Coyote grins. 

You shake your head with  newfound  adoration in your heart for Bob’s friends. “This is… too much.” 

The aviators start talking all at once in protest, ushering you to get out of the kitchen. You comply, throwing your hands up in surrender, and Bob grabs your hand.  

“Hey,” Bob bumps your hip with his. 

“Hey,” is your reply as you sling an arm around his waist. 

He brings you to the living room and sits beside you on the couch. “See? I told you they love you. Thank you for being so incredibly great and thoughtful. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” 

You look up at Bob and press a long kiss to his lips, smiling into it when he hums in content. You pull away and Bob whines, trying to chase you. You lay a hand on his shoulder and rest your forehead on his as you say, “Hey, you deserve everything I could give you and more Bob. I love you.” 

He mumbles an “I love you” in response as  Bob brings you in for another kiss. When he breaks away, you settle into the crook of his neck with a soft smile and a heart full of love. 

“Do you really think we can not invite Rooster to Thanksgiving next year?” Bob breaks the silence and receives a playful slap to his chest. 

“Bobby!” You chortle, shaking in amusement. 

“I didn’t hear a no!” 

a/n: i hate thanksgiving but i love them <333 and s/o to @whisperofsong for helping me with this one! i love and appreciate you lots

taglist: @gretagerwigsmuse @marantha @mountainrooster @gcidrvsh @smoothdogsgirl @pr3ttyboysmakemecry @steve--harrington--gal @t-nd-rfoot @marrianena @joaquinwhorres @cdauni @maddiethebanished​

[tboybuck]

hello I am sticking to my brand and asking for greatest hits!!!

@starryeyedjanai @steves-strapcollection thank you, all three of you, for forcing my hand and getting me to write some words for greatest hits <33 i owe you all my life

wip weekend!

At band practice, Gareth’s got a piss poor attitude for about as long as it takes for Eddie to get his equipment out of the van and approach the garage with a grin on his face, and then he’s fighting back a smile of his own when Jeff and Grant start hooting and hollering at Eddie about the mark on his neck. They jam for hours, running through the entire catalog of shit they usually play, and Eddie’s waffling between whether or not he wants to bring up an idea. Gareth hasn’t exactly been receptive to the whole Steve thing, after all, and Eddie’s been feeling just a little bit tender and gooey ever since Steve called him his boyfriend earlier; he wants to try something out with the guys, maybe throw a new cover into their catalog if the guys are down for it. Jeff’s been playing piano his entire life, long before he picked up a guitar, and Eddie’s been jamming with Grant long enough to know exactly where his musical influences lie, so… the song Eddie’s been thinking of are pretty firmly in both Jeff and Grant’s wheelhouse, and Gareth can pick up just about any beat if you give him half a minute to get the feel of it but… it’s all about Gareth’s willingness, at this point. “Hey, uh, can we try something?” “I swear to god if you try and get me to put a fucking love song for Steve on our set list, I will kick you out of this garage right now,” Gareth says with a shake of his head. He’s smiling, though, looking up at Eddie from his stool behind his kit with an expectant glimmer in his eye. Eddie clicks his tongue. “Guess I better start packin’ up, then. Get back home to my boyfriend.” “Man, shut the hell up,” Gareth says. “What? What stupid sappy chick song do you want to put on our set list for your boyfriend, Romeo?” “Bat Out of Hell?” Eddie suggests. “Oh shit!” Jeff cries, his voice bright with his smile. “Meat Loaf? Hell yeah, man, I’ve been playing Meat Loaf since I got my first piano. Grant, you know the bass line?” “Yeah. Gareth?” Gareth sighs. He’s still fighting that smile. “Alright, you sap. We can do a test run, but if you sound like shit we’re not playing it.”

[tales-of-sweets]

Zagi's Tragic Need For Validation

I don't think that Zagi became obsessed with Yuri the moment he met him or that an interesting fight alone was what motivated him to chase Yuri the ends of the earth. I believe he was out for Yuri's blood, yes, but not for blood's sake but instead because of what it symbolized... This is a headcanon/interpretation that I've probably talked about a million times before, but I'm thinking about it again! Since it chronologically references the events of the game and includes sources/examples it's pretty lengthy so I'll put it under the cut!

The first time he meets Yuri he's on a job and, while it seems to be the first worthwhile fight he's had in a long while, he leaves willingly when he's called to retreat (well, willing in the sense that this is the only time we ever see him retreat mid-battle while he's still in perfect fighting condition).

The next time we see him he's on yet another job, eager to kill "something", his choice of words even with Yuri right in front of him and they seem to recognize each other.

Zagi doesn't actually seem to acquire any fixation on Yuri at all until after the second battle, specifically after he's defeated... and Yuri compliments him. Even after what we can clearly see Zagi believes is a failure on his part (worth noting that in the official translation he says "...I-I retreated..." instead of "...I-I'm finished..." even though they both convey a similar feeling.)

From this point forward, we never see him taking another job or working with Leviathan's Claw. Hunting down Yuri appears to have become his full time fixation. Zagi to me seems like an incredibly lonely man. He is isolated by his own abilities and his inability to relate to others in a meaningful way. He has reached a level of skill that few can comprehend, let alone match (things that are corroborated by this skit here:

He takes pleasure in killing and victory but has not known the rush nor the bond of a fair fight in so long. For all of his hooting and hollering about wanting to kill Yuri, I don't think that's exactly what he was truly getting out of this whole thing. I don't think that's actually what he was chasing. That was the first time he'd found someone on his level and that was the only time Yuri ever complimented him so to me it seems like what he's really chasing is that same high of validation. A connection. He wanted Yuri to come at him with full force, to find joy in their fights as he did, to connect with him... but he only got that the one time. All future instances involved Yuri dismaying at his presence, swatting him off like a pest, fighting him only to remove him as an obstacle. So many of his lines feel like validation seeking, not only in the form of wanting friendship, but more in the way of just wanting to be recognized period. For example:

He tried to make himself stronger, augmented himself, taunted him, but there was always some bigger issue that held Yuri's attention, something greater than him. To me, that played a huge role in why, in the end, he had to make himself Yuri's priority even if it meant destroying himself in the process. While the whole "you can't break the seal without my arm" bit is a little contentious (poor wording? an outright lie? mistranslation?), the truth of the matter is that, in a last ditch effort, he made himself Yuri's number 1 priority. He was now an important part of his quest, not just an annoyance to be brushed aside. Yuri had to take him seriously now.

And when, at last, he was defeated, he thought maybe then Yuri had seen his value and worth, that at last their fight had resonated with him.

Of course we all know how that ended. While I have many issues with the way this ending was handled, I think we get some interesting insight from it that I believe lends some credence to this interpretation:

I think it's worth nothing that almost everyone expresses some sort of sympathy and understanding towards Zagi in the end, except for Yuri. While it is a very valid and plausible interpretation to think that Yuri still doesn't care even after his death, I personally choose to consider the fact that Yuri, as we have seen time and time again, is not very upfront with his emotions and is not always the quickest to admit when he's wrong. I think he could see the tragedy of the situation, I think he could recognize that he really hadn't understood Zagi's intentions, and it's my personal theory that that's precisely why he took a more forgiving approach when confronting Duke in the end. I cannot, in any way, fault Yuri for not stopping to befriend the guy who, for all intents and purposes, seemed intent on killing him. But I also can't help but see the tragedy of the situation from Zagi's perspective. Raven states that something changed after Zagi met them. While it's hard to imagine him as an upstanding citizen or pleasant person to begin with, he probably wasn't always like this.

Raven lends a little more insight too, one of the skits following his demise:

Yuri, Duke, the Don (not shown in the screenshot, though Raven does reference him and Belius), they were held together by the bonds they shared with people who understood them. I think there could have been a chance for Zagi to have turned things around, not let his obsession with Yuri consume him to this degree. Hell, I don't even think it's improbable that he could have become an ally, put his energy into something more productive (as Yuri put it several times over). I don't think Zagi was always doomed to this fate, I think he just met the wrong person at the wrong time.

[another-corpo-rat]

Prompt: Enjoy the Silence Adam Smasher/OC Summary: After a few hours in the chair, Victoria’s brewing headache is a predictable thing. Smasher takes steps to prevent it.

.

Silence is not a natural state of Night City. There was always sound from some source, from passing cars or firing guns, the hollering of drunkards or the screams of victims, the ever-present inescapable blasting of an advert somewhere.

Even on the Ebunike, dry-docked and ghostly, Victoria wasn’t free from the din of sound. No. If anything the Maelstrom who lingered around the ship made it their personal mission to fill any semblance of quiet and give her a splitting headache while they were at it. Banging and knocking against the ship’s hull, their music was always loud enough that the heavier songs trebled through her bones.

The later the hour, the louder they were. Usually.

Tonight it was quiet, the cold air crisp and dead of all noise.

And maybe if she wasn’t exhausted down to her bones, cyberdeck burning hot in her neck and a headache clawing at her temples, it would have made her uncomfortable, put her on edge as if something was wrong. It doesn’t. She sinks deeper into the shitty settee behind the ship’s bridge, breathing out the smoky caramel of her near-done cigarette and stretching out her legs. Groaning in relief as something pops in her right knee.

The bridge’s door slides open, whining and then stopping with a cha-thunk as its rusted mechanisms catch. She cracks an eye open, lips twitching at Smasher’s responding curse. He forces it open, pushing it all the way before he leans, near having to fold himself to get through. He doesn’t knock his head against the threshold this time. (Not that she was keeping count but – she was.)

“Awfully quiet tonight.” She says in place of a greeting as he plants himself beside her, knees spread wide. He hums low, head angled to keep his optics on her. “Usually my ears are bleeding with the wannabe-borgs shit taste in music.” She nods towards the dock, where said wannabes would nest like vermin. Huh, they didn’t even light any fires tonight either. Odd.

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear them screaming earlier.” He huffs, and not for the first time does she wonder how he manages the sound without lungs or a nose. “Was expecting them to put up more of a fight with all the shit they hoard.”

“More of a- you killed them?”

“I didn’t want to have to listen to you whine about a headache again so I told the gonks to keep it the fuck down tonight. They didn’t.”

“I do not whine, I—” She blinks as thought hits her, the left corner of her lip twitching upwards. “You killed them for me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I told them to shut up for you, I killed them because they didn’t listen.” Her grin gets wider, baring teeth and growing impossibly smug. “What?” A bark of a word.

“Oh, nothing.” She leans into him. Her cheek rests against his armoured bicep, both of her arms curling around a thick forearm and drawing it against her. “You utter sweetheart.” She croons, and for all his griping, he doesn’t complain now; simply sighing as his hand splays against her thigh, giving the meat of it a gentle squeeze before his fingers rub slow circles into the muscle. Her fingers trail their own path, ghosting along his forearm, tracing the subtle line of the panels that hid his arm cannon. “Did you record it?”

“Already uploaded to the shared files.” She smiles, the motion hidden against chrome as she turns to press a kiss to his arm before resting against him once more.

She’ll indulge in his bloodshed later, for now she sinks into him. Her eyes drift closed against the warmth of him and the not-unpleasant ministrations against her thigh, blanketed by the rare quiet of the ship.

She won’t recall when she fell asleep – but it was some point after he had rumbled ‘lazy bitch,’ low and fond.

[rocknrollsalad]

Steddie Holiday Drabbles - First kiss / first time

🎄characters/pairings: steve, eddie, dustin, cludia henderson, mentions of nearly everyone tbh

🔴 Hellfire Club has a Christmas party and Eddie's a bit more of a Scrooge than he realizes but even Scrooge found something good about the holiday season

🔔 content/trigger warnings: drinking, jokes about being drugged, implied weed use, one sexual offer

💚 word count: 2525

Christmas is kind of weird after a while. Most kids get all this magic and sparkling fairy dust as they live in a surveillance state. The man watches you when you’re sleeping. It’s a hit song and in all the lore. As a kid, you don’t know that’s weird. It’s the magic of Christmas.

The role for kids is clear and, wow, it’s easy. Eat a ton of stuff that’s otherwise off-limits, unwrap a bunch of gifts that were not earned, and marvel at the beauty of shiny, bright things.

Adults, they don’t have it so easy. Their kids are all total terrors, they are non-stop asking for stuff, plus there aren’t actually little elves showing up to do all the goodie making so they’re the ones slaving away in the kitchen for hours. Getting mad about the work they put in just so other people can suck it down without even tasting it. Underappreciated and overworked.

If Eddie had to pick, he’d kill for a second stab at the kid stuff. He already knew he was great at eating things and he’d never said no to a cup of hot chocolate. No one, not even the adults, wants to have that version of Christmas. So who wouldn’t pick new toys over new socks?

Instead, Eddie (and all his friends) were in between those worlds. Definitely expected to behave and act more in line with the adults but was not welcome to help. Or if they did help it was small tasks. Eddie wasn’t being asked to make the Christmas ham but he could put butter on the rolls.

Not that he and Wayne really did the whole Christmas meal. That wasn’t the point. If he wanted to be true to the points he’d been whining about, plenty of kids help with the dinner. That was less dramatic and didn’t serve the purpose of illustrating how weird it was that they, a bunch of teenagers, were having a work Christmas party.

They weren’t adults yet! They weren’t trusted with a turkey baster or to buy the right gifts for people. Seasoned adults and holiday veterans did that. Not the Hellfire Club! (plus their dates) However, it was unanimous. Everyone was for it and the new, spit-out-by-demobats version of Eddie tried to run the club a little more democratically. That and it was really hard to say no to a room full of sad puppy-eyed stares, begging for a party.

Henderson offered to host which led to a thing Eddie never needed to happen ever again; Claudia Henderson crashing Hellfire meetings. Sure, she was the right person for the job. The woman couldn’t be more desperate to have something to plan or to earn the favor of her son. It’s just sort of hard to vanquish anyone when she and her midwestern accent come hollering in and talking about what kind of salads they all wanted.

Then Eddie asked what sort of libations there would be, knowing he’d get a reaction (though hoping for silence) and nearly got the whole party canceled. That night, Eddie took two six-packs and the good gas station hot dogs out to Wayne to thank him for…everything.

Again, Eddie wanted to be a kid. Kids don’t have to pick which version of Jell-o, marshmallows, and canned fruit they wanted. They got to refuse to eat it if it was wrong, even if they asked for it. Kids also got to play their games. Something Eddie was missing among all this Christmas spirit.

Normally when Eddie wanted to lean on the escapism of dungeons and dragons, at least Will was on his side. This time Will was the head of the decorating committee and fighting with Dustin about everything under the sun.

Eddie had never been accused of having too much Christmas spirit but this was draining it from him. Maybe they were closer to adulthood than he wanted to admit because this certainly wasn’t fun. The only saving grace was the very open guest list. Hellfire Club, people who know what the Upside Down is, that cool neighbor, they all seemed welcomed.

Something Eddie used to his advantage when he coyly asked Steve if he was coming. They’d been getting along so well since Eddie’s second shot at life. In fact, there’d been a couple of hangouts that could have looked like dates to the right eyes. Those eyes belonged to Eddie but he felt certain if anyone else had witnessed it, they’d say the same.

Naturally, he wanted Steve at the work party. No one else had invited him yet and that was a problem Eddie would handle later. If these kids are inviting the weird middle schooler from down the street so he could “get used to” Hellfire Club, they should have invited Steve. Dustin, Lucas, and Erica, all had good reason. Another lecture for the books, more time eaten up when they could be playing. Everyone owed him a bonus session.

Steve being Steve was totally honored to be asked by anyone but tried to play it cool. He’d lost that sort of cred but, man, did he still try. It was cute. Sniffling and wiping his nose like he wasn’t on the brink of tears he was so thrilled to be included. Eddie wanted to push him into a river or take him back to the bedroom. Both, preferably.

Again, it wasn’t a date. Squint, look closely, close one eye and maybe it was. Maybe. Or maybe it was including all of the friend group and figuring out how to spike the punch with Erica screaming from the rafters. They were just friends who were in the same place ignoring each other’s stupid faces and the butterflies that always moved into Eddie’s stomach. Totally normal holiday things.

And when the day finally came and they arrived together, it was a pure accident. Two separate cars and no pre-planning just the same math teacher and ideas on how late is fashionable. But thank god (or maybe Santa was more appropriate) for Mr. Cantillon because Eddie needed the support.

With a fist full of Steve’s sleeve, Eddie looked over an explosion of red and green. No surface was untouched. Lights, tinsel, candles, ornaments, and things Eddie couldn’t identify. Claudia certainly had gone all out for them and as overwhelmed as Eddie wanted to be, the apologetic look of Dustin and his cute little Christmas sweater helped.

That crisis of being in between versions of Christmas wasn’t something Steve had. He cooed and complimented the scene as he walked over to kiss Claudia on the cheek and thank her for doing this. Oddly, not cute. Everything Steve did was cute but the politician kissing babies move was the exception to that rule. Even when it was saving Eddie’s ass as he picked his jaw up off the floor and remembered how to be human.

From there, everyone drank alcohol-free punch and hung around. Overall it was a little underwhelming. Claudia had to be feeling the same way. All that work so a bunch of teenagers could sit in her house and talk.

She’d organized a white elephant gift exchange, which was a bit more fun than Eddie wanted to admit. Yeah, he ended up with a small vase the Sinclairs might not have known they donated and Eddie would never use but watching everyone battle over the two-liter of Mtn Dew like it was made of gold was worth it. Except for when Jeff stole it from Eddie. That wouldn’t soon be forgiven.

For baby’s first Christmas party, it wasn’t that awful. Eddie wasn’t looking to repeat it any time soon but he was willing to admit it he was enjoying himself. Gareth and Will split early, they had another engagement. Because that’s a thing Eddie says now. Erica left because they were all losers and their stench was rubbing off on her. Eddie loved that kid. Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan split the instant they weren’t the first ones.

Dustin was stuck because it was his house, a point Eddie made sure to rub in every chance he could. Those that remained decided to put on Gremlins because “it was going to be a Christmas classic one day”.

Eddie and Steve helped clean up a little bit, as much as Claudia would allow. For their efforts, she poured some rum into their punch from her secret stash and swore them to secrecy. Eddie didn’t have much interest in watching the movie so they stood on the edge of the living room, literally between worlds. Behind them, the adult world of cleaning up and dishing up leftovers. In front, watching movies without a care in the world.

After a few minutes of lingering there, Steve leaned in to whisper in Eddie’s ear. Something that should be made illegal. If not by Hawkins PD, the UN. “How much do you think Mrs. Henderson would care if we snuck out front for a smoke?”

“Which?”

Steve thought the question over, “Cigarettes. No way we could get away with anything else.”

“True. I don’t think she’d notice.”

Ever the golden boy, Steve leaned into the kitchen. “Mrs. Henderson? We’re gonna pop out and get some fresh air. I’ve seen this movie a hundred times.”

“Don’t forget your jackets, okay? It’s getting cold out there. You know they say it’s going to snow soon and I don’t doubt it.”

“Me either,” Steve said in a voice Eddie had never heard. “It’s been trying for days.”

“Oh, tell me about it,” she threw her hands in the air as if to say she couldn’t deal with the thought and so Eddie and Steve took that as their cue to step out.

The snow they were talking about inside seemed to be threatening to make all their predictions come true as Eddie swore flakes were spitting on them as Steve walked them down to the side just past the Henderson front lawn. With a hand over Eddie’s and the pack he was trying to open, Steve stopped him. Warmed him up more than all the jackets on this block could.

“Do you know what we were standing under in there?” Steve asked, disbelief and joy battling on his face.

“Given the way Claudia decorated, we could have been standing under a decapitated angel and I wouldn’t have known.”

Faking a laugh without any sound, Steve quickly turned it into that cutting stare of his. “Mistletoe, man. We were standing right under it.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathed out, trying to blink a normal amount. Not that his brain remembered what that amount was currently.

“Well, you know what that means, right?” Leaning forward, Steve raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Eddie wasn’t sure he could answer. Claudia didn’t drink rum, she’d slipped them absinthe and he was hallucinating. “Yeah, um, like usually people kiss under it.” came out as one garbled word.

“Yeah! So, like,” Steve waved his hand back and forth between them.

“Us?”

“It’s tradition, right? We gotta.”

“Uhhhh, yeah, man. We gotta.”

“That’s why I said we should come out here, so no one saw us.”

Eddie looked up and down the street, trying to figure out which part of that was “no one”. Then looking back to Steve, bracing to hear this was a joke, and met with someone desperate for permission. Which Eddie gave in a simple head nod.

From there the world slowed to a crawl, Steve was barely moving but crowded Eddie’s space. A firm and possessive hand rested on Eddie’s back and that alone was enough to take his breath away. He’d dreamt of this moment and usually there was more…Eddie on stage to the dream but this was shaping up nicely in its own way.

Their lips met and Eddie got why all those old movies cut away to fireworks. Steve’s lips were impossibly warm and softer than Eddie’s. He was so gentle but not uncertain. It lasted for, maybe, two actual seconds in the real world but Eddie would be living in this moment for the rest of his life.

Then, like, nothing happened, Steve took the pack of cigarettes Eddie forgot he had. Slipping one out and lighting it before passing it over to Eddie. Repeating the movements for himself, Steve looked normal. Not at all like his entire world changed in that moment, all thanks to some stupid plant.

It took a couple of drags for Eddie’s brain to work again and even then it was up for debate since the first thing he said was “Thank you”. Steve laughed so hopefully that response didn't fill him with regret.

“I can’t even begin to guess why mistletoe was hung up for your party of all things but I think I owe Mrs. Henderson some cookies or something,” Steve said. That hotshot smile peeked around the cigarette he held there so his hands could warm up in his pockets.

“What? Why?”

“Because, I wanted to have, like, one of those special first kisses, ya know? The kind you talk about twenty years later or whatever. I just didn’t know how to make it happen.”

“Gross, man. What? Do you, like, like me or something,” Eddie mocked, swaying back and forth to distract from the fact that he desperately wanted an answer.

“I don’t know. I feel like one day, maybe, I might learn to,” Steve said with an eye roll.

“Maybe next year I’ll hang the mistletoe somewhere else and really, uh, speed up that process then.”

“Why wait?”

Eddie’s heart skipped a beat and instant-shock quickly turned devilish. The gears in his brain working overtime trying to figure out how to make that happen and how committed to the bit he was. Just as he opened his mouth, praying the line sounded as smooth out loud as it did in his head, the door to the Henderson place opened and Dustin called out. “Steve! Mom wants to know if you’ll take some of the pistachio salad to Nance and Jonathan?”

“Isn’t Will still in there? Ask him!” Steve called back.

“He left like an hour ago,” Eddie leaned over and whispered.

“Fuck,” Steve huffed, storming through the grass because apparently he had to answer in person and couldn’t just say yes from the sidewalk.

Eddie followed because why would he stand, all alone, out in the cold? Also, he was afraid if Steve got too far from him, he’d start thinking clearly. Okay, no. That was inevitable but maybe his judgment would stay clouded just a bit longer.

By the time Eddie got to the door Dustin was still holding open, Steve was in the kitchen. So Eddie took the chance to ask the question both he and Steve had. “Henderson, why’d your mom put up mistletoe? Her leave-room-for-Jesus attitude really doesn’t scream ‘make a bunch of teenagers kiss’.”

“What? Where?” Dustin said with far too much disgust as he closed the door.

“Over the kitchen,” Eddie pointed. Not daring to take his jacket off so he had an excuse at the ready to get out of there. Either with Steve or to hide from Steve.

“Are you serious?” Dustin looked at Eddie like he’d grown a second head. “That’s holly, man. It’s, like, a pretty recognizable and traditional holiday decoration.”

[iidigestive-readerii]

The Good Jedi: Part Four

Satine: Two transmissions came in to the Mandalorian embassy. Call the Council and whoever necessary. They’ll want to see this.

There were many things Mace enjoyed about being Master of the Order, but being at the beck and call of Republic politicians was not one of them. Except this politician was technically not even a part of the Republic. Or should be alive for that matter.

But he called a meeting for two hours later, staying in one of the seats and reviewing flimsiwork from the last campaign that had been completed by his system army. It was a tedious task, and he was relieved when the members started to file in. 

Quiet chatter started to fill the room, familiar voices overlapping each other. Mace glanced at the time and rose, beginning to stack his materials. He gave a nod when he saw Obi-Wan and Duchess Satine walk in, about to say something when he froze.

The room quieted, everyone staring at the addition. 

“Evening Mace.”

“...Ahsoka.” Mace bowed his head quickly, feeling red hot shame creep up his neck. He thanked the Force that Anakin hadn’t shown up yet. “Dare I ask?”

Satine sighed, walking to the projector table while she spoke, ignoring the surprised faces. “If we’re going to war - and the odds of that occurring are high,” she sighed while putting the chips into the projector. “I need an aide-de-camp, and it doesn’t make sense to have a Jedi General as one if he has a larger war to fight.”

“And a Jedi padawan is somehow better?” Mace asked with the raise of his brow, aware of the scowls shot his way. “Former padawan.”

“I don’t know about you, but having the Jedi that - “

“‘Snips?!” Anakin stood at the entryway, frozen, the light of the hallway on his back. Padme and Aayla were behind him, both of them staring at young woman. It was not a situation anyone anticipated a week ago, but here they were. Looking between everyone, Anakin frowned and stepped down a few. “What - Obi-Wan - what - “

Rolling her eyes, Aayla pushed her friends away and hopped down the steps. She wasted no time, gathering Ahsoka in her arms. The younger woman melted in a way that she hadn’t yet, tears falling down her cheeks. 

Mace watched the scene, the two woman whispering, the quick glare shot at the Chosen One, the reunion taking place. Though he’d been hesitant once upon a time about allowing Aayla into the Order at the ripe age of six years old, and then being the padawan of Quinlan Vos… but in his opinion, Aayla was everything that Anakin wasn’t. Powerful in all the ways her friend wasn’t, holding all the ideals of the Jedi code close and so good at negotiation without sacrificing her virtues. She was good at all of it while maintaining so many loving relationships - platonic, romantic… everything. 

If he had his way, Aayla would be the next Master of the Order. He desperately hoped so.

Yoda cleared his throat, the attention of the room shifting to him. He forced a smile. “Heartwarming this reunion is, but move forward, we need too. Duchess?”

“...right.” Satine sighed heavily, her finger hovering over the play button. “The Mandalorian embassy received two transmissions this morning. One from my sister Bo-Katan, to the system… and one from Death Watch.”

Bo-Katan shimmered into existence, covered in armor, on a podium, surrounded by her people, somewhere in the mines on one of the moons and planets of Mandalore. Exhausted, fiery…

“Mandalorians! I stand before you not as Death Watch… but as your princess. As my sister’s advocate…and I know you all don’t care for me… but we love our Duchess - you love our Duchess - and they have our prince… and that is unacceptable!” 

“They’re fine if you’re captured but they draw the line at Korkie?” Anakin muttered while the Mandalorians cheered and hollered. 

“We love our children,” Satine whispered. She didn’t resist as Obi-Wan tugged her closer, wrapping his arms around her middle. The gesture was so intimate, so…

…oh. 

“He’s your son.” Mace wasn’t surprised as they both nodded, and turned back to the Holo. 

“We are Mandalorians! We do not cower when outsiders mess with us! And Pre has messed with the wrong clan! We have tasted peace - and no more fighting!” There was more cheering, and Bo shouting in victory alongside everyone.

She froze, the video stopping. 

Had he known what would have occurred that morning, Mace would have stayed in bed. He had a headache already, watching the video play in the classroom turned war room and and rubbing at his temples. 

“...not good, this is.” Yoda leaned heavily against cane, shaking his head. 

“It gets worse,” Satine muttered as the first Holo shimmered away and the second appeared. It was Maul and Visla… and Korkie in the background, bound on the steps of the throne. Beaten, bruised, staring levelly into the camera. A small smile on his face like he had a plan up his sleeve.

“Goddesses…” Padme whispered. 

Pre smiled at the camera, looking at his partner briefly. 

Maul stepped back, igniting the Dark Saber and putting it by Korkie’s neck. 

“The Dark Saber? That’s been lost for centuries…” Mace whispered.

“...Duchess. I’m sure this needs no discussion.” Pre smiled. “I have something you want. One hundred million - “

“Surely I’m worth more than that.” Korkie scoffed, barely reacting as Maul turned the saber around and jabbed the hilt into his temple. He went sprawling, fingers loosening and moving as he struggled to regain his balance.

“One hundred million credits Duchess - your bastard for the throne… and your life.”

Maul stepped forward, stabbing the saber through Korkie’s leg and smiling at the hisses of pain. He twisted the blade around before removing it, pointing it again at Korkie. “Tick tock Kenobi… my patience is wearing thin.” 

*

I'm thrilled to have this chapter finally written! it took forever to drag out of my brain, lol. I'll add the Ao3 and Tumblr chapter links some other time - enjoy! Let me know what you think!

[thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles]

No Scrub

JJ Maybank x OC (Ruby Routledge)

Warnings: swearing, fighting, overreaction, slight innuendo?

WC: 0.7k

So... a Halloween party for the Pogues is basically an every day party, except they put on costumes and eat a shit ton of candy. And maybe do karaoke.

John B, JJ, and Pope are matching skeletons. Ruby, Sage, and Kie are fairies.

So when Ruby, John B, JJ, Pope, and Kie were watching Sage sing That's What Makes You Beautiful by One Direction? Highlight of their year. Better than fucking Christmas.

"Okay, okay," Sage huffs, completely out of breath. "Who's next?"

"You are, baby," John B chuckles, offering Sage her beer. "You put yourself down for all night."

Sage raises her eyebrows, chugging the beer. "Fuck, seriously? Well, I don't wanna go anymore."

"Too bad, Sage," Ruby chimes in, her legs laying over JJ's lap. "Come on, we all know you love singing. Just one more!"

Sage waves her off, "Fine, fine. But this one's gotta be fucking good."

JJ and Ruby tapered off into their own conversation, lost in their own little world. John B nudged Pope, grinning. "10 bucks says she picks a song from 1990."

"Destiny's Child, for sure," Kie chimed in.

"Okay, okay," Sage said, shaking out her hands. "No Scrub, TLC."

"Oh my God," Ruby grinned, "I fucking love this song! Can I duet?"

"Hell yes!" Sage said, handing Ruby the other microphone. "Bless you, Pope, for sharing your karaoke machine with us."

"Gift of the year, my good sir," JJ raised his beer mockingly, putting on an accent.

"It's my moms!" Pope defended weakly, sipping at his beer again.

The opening notes of No Scrub started playing and the two girls danced around, absolutely care free as they sang.

"Oh my God," Ruby huffed, flopping down on the couch beside JJ again. "That song is literally my life. Innit, J?" She nudged her boyfriend playfully, reciting a few lines, "Hanging out the passenger side of his best friend's ride, trying to holler at me--"

JJ got up from the couch in a huff, his cheerful demeanor gone and replaced with an upset, angry vibe.

"JJ!" Ruby yelled, confused. "What the hell?" She got off the couch, rushing after JJ and grabbing his arm. "JJ, what--"

JJ whirled, anger written across his features. "What do you mean, 'what'? You're just gonna act like it's about someone who won't give any love to a poor guy? Fucking Christ, Ruby, even you aren't that dumb!"

Ruby flinched. "Hey, that's not fair. I didn't even think--"

"Yeah, no shit," JJ responded, pulling his arm away from her and shoving the door open.

"JJ, that's not fair!" Ruby yelled, tears shining in her eyes. "You can't just--"

"Oh, I can't? Ruby Routledge, everyone, who's tryin' to tell me what I can and can't do? Get off your high horse."

"I'm not on a goddamn high horse, JJ! What the fuck is up with you?!" Ruby yelled, the pair now standing in the yard and having a full-on screaming match right in front of the open living room window. "Why are you reacting so poorly to this song?"

"It's about a rich bitch, Ruby!" JJ yelled, getting in her face. "A rich bitch who won't give any love to a guy who lives with his mom, who doesn't have money, and doesn't have a goddamn car! And I don't have any of those things, so why the hell would you give me love? I'm just a fucking scrub!"

Ruby let out an incredulous laugh. "JJ! Come on! I meant--"

"It doesn't matter what you meant," JJ says as it starts to rain. "It matters what you said. And you said, and I quote, 'this song is literally my life.'" He wipes his face, black and white makeup smudging with the water.

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, JJ, okay? I'm really sorry," Ruby said, taking a small step forward. "I just meant that it's funny, okay? That I have this gorgeous scrub all to myself, JJ, because I wouldn't have it any other way. Come back inside, okay? Please, for me? You can pick a terrible song about women and say it's about me."

JJ made a face, "Sure. Fine."

"I really am sorry, JJ," Ruby said, pushing JJ's hair back and leaning up to kiss his makeup-ruined face. "I love you..."

"Okay, okay," JJ said wish a small laugh, pushing Ruby away so he could properly kiss her lips, I love you, too. And I'm sorry I overreacted."

"It's okay. Hey, what song are you gonna pick?"

"Lights Down Low," JJ smirked, "By Bei Maejor."

"JJ!"

[the-ghost-of-jason-todd]

@badthingshappenbingo fill for Bloody Knuckles! This one is titled The Devil Came to Visit Me, and you can read it on AO3 HERE.

This isn’t the first bedside vigil Bruce has sat.  Show business—at least of the sort that he and his boys do—can be messy, accidents unavoidable.  Just because most of the violence of their tournament is scripted doesn’t mean it isn’t real.  You can’t fake the bruises and bloody noses live, in real time, right there on the stage. 

It’s a fine line, some days.  Sometimes bad things happen.  Sometimes worse things happen.  Sometimes Bruce asks himself what it would take to make him stop, and it scares him how deep, how brutal, how ugly the answer is. 

He hasn’t reached it yet.  Before tonight, he might have said that he doesn’t know if he ever will.  Because the thing is… (and it’s hard to put things into words, but…) when it comes to himself, and even sometimes when it come to the younger boys who have followed him into the ring… he’s always seen the pain and injury as an acceptable risk.  If there are accidents (and there occasionally are, they’re only human), they only happen in service of something bigger.  It all has meaning, it all has reason—everything they do and every hit they take, good or bad, scripted or not, is a piece of the greater theater of it all.  It’s all part of their attempt to provide something for the people.  They hit and are hit, the crowd cheers, catharsis is found, and then, at the end of the day, they put it all away.  They ice their bruises, tape up strained muscles, bandage torn skin, and go where the violence doesn’t follow.

Which is, really, what makes tonight’s vigil so different.  This isn’t Damian slipping a disc in his spine because of a badly placed knee.  This isn’t Dick hitting the ropes wrong and getting a concussion that took him out of the championship for the season.  This isn’t Tim taking one too many hits to the spleen.  What this is, what hurts more than any of the other times Bruce has sat next to a hospital bed that held one of his boys, is the fact that Jason wasn’t in the ring.

It’s a simple fact, one that feels like a lead weight on Bruce’s chest.  A block of cement, encasing his lungs.  An anchor, dragging him down, down, down into depths so crushing, so cold, that they feel like burning all over again.  The only thing keeping him present right now, the only thing stopping him from throwing it all away to go after the man who did this, is Jason’s hand, limp, cradled in Bruce’s own.

His knuckles are bloody.  They’re bandaged, but they were torn up badly enough that spots of red have seeped all the way through the white gauze. 

Bruce finds himself drawn back to that blood.  Again and again his gaze is dragged to it, a memory sparked by the deep color, and he can’t help but find himself thinking back to the venue, hours ago now. 

He’d been sitting next to Jason in the changing room after his match.  The edges of the memory, the weight and heft of it, are seared into his mind.  It feels so stupid now, but… he’d been annoyed with Jason.  Jason, who can never stop at ‘good enough’.  Jason, who refuses to go down without taking someone with him.  Jason, who wins fights the bloody way, the dirty way, who beats back the title of ‘underdog’ with bare fists and bared teeth, every single time.

It’s hypocritical, but sitting there trying to hold an ice pack wrapped in a towel to Jason’s bloody nose, watching as Jason leaned away, hooting and hollering at Joker’s latest goon, crowing about his win… Bruce had just wanted him to be quiet.  To stop provoking the opposition, to keep his head down.  To stay safe.  Joker was more a manager than a fighter, one who hardly ever came into the ring anymore, but when he did he was known to fight nasty as hell, and Bruce didn’t want Jason anywhere near him.  It was bad enough that Jason had turned down a bribe from Joker asking him to throw that night’s match.  Now the kid was rubbing salt in the wound, overconfident smirk on his face.

Bruce should have known Jason would take it badly when the news that Joker was abusing his on-again-off-again girlfriend, Harley Quinn, broke in their circuit.  Out of all of them, Jason has the most personal experience with things of that nature.  The power dynamics, the hidden bruises in the shapes of hands, the things that happen behind closed doors.  It all pushes his buttons in a way that makes things hard for Bruce to control, puts the two of them at odds when they should be working together.  And, more than that, worse than that, it leaves Jason open to retaliation.

That’s what happened tonight.  Retaliation.  It came in the shape of a broken street lamp, a car resting in pooling shadows, four slashed tires, and then… from the darkness… there was Joker.  He got to Jason before Jay had a chance to get help—went to have a ‘talk’ with him, pulled out a crowbar, and beat him past unconsciousness, all without anyone realizing there was anything wrong.

Bruce grits his teeth, forcing himself to keep his grip on Jason’s hand gentle.  Bloody knuckles or not, ring or not, fighting or not, his boy didn’t deserve to be hurt like that.  Not the first strike, not the last, not any in between.  Jason Todd doesn’t deserve ventilators and brain bleeds and too soon to tell.  The truth of it eats away at Bruce’s composure, chews through him like mice through wires—because if there’s one person who should have known this would happen, one person who should have realized that something was wrong, it’s the man sitting here tonight without a single scrape on him.  The man who is wholly untouched, sitting pristine as a kid he has long since called his son lays in a white, sanitized hospital bed, knuckles bloody and bones broken, fighting for his life.

It hurts.  Jason’s fire is gone, skin pale as ash and almost cold to the touch from the blood loss, and Bruce… god.  He feels like he could light the whole city on fire with a single touch and it wouldn’t be enough.  Each beep of the heart monitor is a spark waiting to catch, each tear that doesn’t fall a coal set deep behind his eyes.  He’s never been one to burn, not like Jay, not like a kid who never had enough but would light it all anyway just for the heat.  He has his own demons, but they come cold as pearl, cold as the metal of an unfired gun.  This… this is something else, something he can hardly hold onto, it hurts so much.

What would it take for him to stop?  To leave the ring?  Something worse than a desire to fight, worse than the draw of the crowds, the cheers and lights.  Something that called him to a violence that he could never come back from.  The answer… it’s deep.  Brutal.  Ugly… and it’s so close he can taste it. 

He wants to make the Joker pay.  He wants to make that fucker suffer.  But the only way he’s leaving this bedside is if the worse comes to pass.  If that should happen… if Jason codes, if his heart stops… then there will be nothing left that can stop Bruce from tearing it all apart. 

Until then… Bruce breathes in, cool hospital air igniting in the heat inside of him, smoldering away deep in his lungs.  The heart monitor beeps… and the ventilator whooshes… and he holds his son’s hand, gentle, with as much care as a man like him can possibly have. 

Bloody, torn knuckles and all.