#Car Windshield is So Essential

[autoglassoutlet]

Important Reasons Why Car Windshield is So Essential

In this comprehensive blog, we will delve into the reasons why your car windshield is so essential and exploring its various roles.

[juniperskye]

Who Are You Again?

Based on the following ask: I had another plot thought! Aaron x BAU Reader (female or gender neutral) where Reader disobeys an order to save a victim and gets hurt really bad. Reader wakes up in the hospital to Aaron who is angry at first but then is shocked when it turns out that Reader has retrograde amnesia from the injury. Reader has forgotten their entire career in the BAU and even that They and Aaron were secretly dating! Last thing Reader actually remembers was attending a lecture in college where Aaron was a guest speaker and Reader developed a crush on him! Now Aaron has to carefully navigate helping Reader recover without outing their relationship to anyone else. Or maybe he wonders if it's better they forget? But for a HEA ending definitely Aaron doing something romantic sparks a memory and helps everything come flooding back. @nyxwolph thank you for requesting again and trusting me with your ideas! – I did have to change things up a bit (I struggled big time with this one)

Aaron Hotchner x BAU! Fem Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 5336

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, age gap, some language, BAU canon typical violence, mention of parent death, mention of kidnapping, mention of Haley and Jack, secret relationship, let me know if I missed any!!

That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

“In chaos theory, the butterfly effect is the sensitive dependence on initial conditions in which a small change in one state of a deterministic nonlinear system can result in large differences in a later state.” Essentially, something as small as a butterfly flapping its wings could cause something as catastrophic as a tornado.  

Aaron wondered what small event happened that led to this moment right now. A moment that would change the trajectory of your lives forever.

*36 hours earlier*

“Garcia has the unsubs location; he’s headed down a backroad just east of the 95.” Aaron said.

“He’s devolving, he’s probably going to try and dispose of his latest victim.” Morgan chimed in.

“Not if we have anything to do with it.” JJ replied.

“His location is being shared with you all, everyone be safe, at this point he’s going to be willing to do anything to avoid prison.” Hotch added.

“I’m close by, I am going to go try and cut him off.” You suggested.

The team expressed their worry and care and urged you to be careful. The only thing you had on your mind, however, was saving the five-year-old boy this unsub had hidden. You drove as fast as your vehicle would allow, you had to get to the unsub. You had to save that boy.

As you got closer to the location Garcia had shared, you could see the dust trail the unsubs car was leaving down the road. You thought about your options, and you made a snap decision. Drive on, no matter the consequences – take out the unsub’s car. So that’s what you did.

You drove forward and your car t-boned the unsubs, only you hadn’t considered that he’d be driving a semi tractor. Upon impact, your SUV was crushed, in your rush to get to the unsub you’d forgotten to put on your seatbelt and your body was ejected through the windshield.

The accident was enough to stop the unsub long enough for the team to arrive. As they surveyed the scene, Aaron’s stomach dropped. He immediately began barking orders, demanding medics, and sending agents to the unsubs’ farm to find the boy.  Throughout everything he refused to leave your side.

*Present Day*

“Sir, we had to place her in a medically induced coma to allow the swelling in her brain to go down.” The doctor explained.

“Is there an estimate as to how long it’ll be until she wakes up?” Aaron asked.

“With these kinds of injuries, it’s hard to say. The brain is a tricky thing, and no two injuries are alike. We just have to wait and see.”

“Thank you.” Aaron said, shaking the doctor’s hand.

Your doctor made her exit and Aaron moved to the seat beside your bed. He gently took your hand in his own placing a kiss to the back of it before returning it to your side. Aaron had thought back to the night everything changed.

*One year earlier*

“Hey Hotch, here’s that report you asked for. You aren’t staying are you?” You asked, glancing at your watch.

“Thanks, and yeah I had a few things I needed to finish up.”

You made your way over to Aaron’s couch, dropped your bag to the floor, and shrugged your jacket off. You pulled your phone out to see what was still open for delivery in the area. Aaron and you had shared many nights like this, spending late nights together in his office. The two of you had grown very close over the years, so much so that David had outright asked Aaron if you two were dating. To which Aaron let out an awkward chuckle and denied the accusation. If only he knew.

“What are you doing? You should head home.” Aaron said.

“Well, you should too, and you aren’t, so I guess that means we’re ordering dinner.” You smiled at him.

“I love you.” Aaron said simply.

“What?” You were stunned.

“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. I didn’t – I um….”

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Aaron made his way over to you, gently caressed your face and kissed you. It was everything you had ever imagined. There had been this tension between the two of you over the last two years and it was all finally coming together.

After that night, Aaron and you had agreed to keep your relationship under wraps, to avoid any potential disruption to the team, but also any question as to your position on the team. Aaron didn’t want anyone to question the fact that it was your skills and resume alone that got you to where you are.

Yours and Aaron’s relationship blossomed after that night, but not without hardships. Aaron and you faced a lot of adversity in multiple aspects of your relationship; you had a hard time trusting people, Aaron had been self-conscious of your age gap, and you both couldn’t help but feel that you weren’t good enough for the other (not that either of you would bring it up).

*Present Day*

A tear fell from Aaron’s eye, he couldn’t fathom losing you. This was all part of the reason he didn’t want to get serious with someone after Haley, but then you came into his life. You’d come in and made yourself known with your kind eyes and witty charm; how could he not fall in love with you.

Aaron fell for you slowly then all at once, it came naturally, and he couldn’t help it. He knew that the team had their suspicions and honestly over the last year there had been some close calls, but you had ultimately maintained the secrecy of your relationship.

In this moment, Aaron couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt and regret over the fact that he’d asked you to keep things quiet. Had he let the team in on your relationship, he could’ve done a better job at keeping you safe.

*2 Weeks Later*

Aaron had been by your side as much as possible over the last two weeks, which is exactly where he was when you started to stir. Aaron shot straight up in his seat, his hand quickly reaching for your own.

You couldn’t help the groan that escaped your throat, your body hurt so bad, and you felt very confused. You attempted to open your eyes but immediately regretted it – the bright fluorescents adding to the pounding in your head. As you blinked through the brightness of the room, you glanced over to your bedside, noticing a tall man seated there.

“What on earth were you thinking? Driving into the unsub like that, you could’ve been killed. Your actions were reckless and unacceptable.” The man scolded you.

You couldn’t find it in you to reply, your head was pounding. You brought your hand up to your forehead and gently press the heel of your palm into it, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure.

“Sweetheart hold on, I’ll go get your doctor.” A deep voice sounded from your bedside.

Before you could question the pet name, you heard the sound of his dress shoes clicking against the linoleum floors.

The man returned with your doctor; he dimmed the lights slightly on his way back to your bedside. He moved to grab your hand again, to which you shifted, wringing your hands nervously in your lap.

“Hello, I’m doctor Raynor. How are you feeling?”

“Like I was hit by a truck, what happened?” You questioned, giving your doctor and the man a once over.

You recognized the man; it was Special Agent Hotchner of the BAU. What was he doing here? What happened?

“Well, you were involved in an accident, can you tell me what you remember?” Dr. Raynor inquired.

“I um, well, I was leaving a lecture.” Your gaze shifted to Agent Hotchner “Your lecture actually, you were talking about MO’s. I guess the accident was after that?” You couldn’t help but notice Agent Hotchner’s expression faulter.

Your doctor looked over at Agent Hotchner and he shook his head. The two of them seemingly knew something you didn’t. You couldn’t help but feel like you’d just given the wrong answer in front of the class. Dr. Raynor had gone through the rest of your injuries with you, multiple lacerations that had required stitches, a few broken ribs, a broken wrist, and of course your TBI. Once she was done she gave you a somber look.

“Would you excuse us for just a moment? I am going to send in one of your nurses to check you over and I’ll be back in just a moment.” Dr. Raynor said.

“Oh, okay.”

Dr. Raynor and Agent Hotchner left your room, and you tried your best to listen to their conversation.

*Hotch’s POV*

She doesn’t remember me, well us. It’s like the last five years have just disappeared.

“Agent Hotchner, I gather that the lecture she’s referring to did not occur two weeks ago when she was brought in.”

“No, that lecture was nearly five years ago.” I explained.

“This would be a case of retrograde amnesia, if she’s lost recent memories.” Dr. Raynor replied.

“Will her memory return?”

“It’s hard to say.”

While Aaron was completely devastated, he couldn’t help the doubt that creeped into his mind, telling him “This is for the best”.

*Normal POV*

Dr. Raynor and Agent Hotchner looked extremely serious, and you started to feel nauseous. Something was obviously wrong. You watched as their conversation ceased and they made their way back into the room.

Something must have happened, why would Agent Hotchner be here.

“Alright, it would appear that due to the brain trauma you sustained in your accident, you are experiencing what we describe as retrograde amnesia. This is when you can’t recall memories from your past. Based on your most recent memory, it appears as if you’ve lost approximately five years.” Dr. Raynor explained.

“Five years? Five years of memories are just gone. I don’t understand. If that’s true then why are you here?” You asked gesturing to Agent Hotchner.

“Well, you work for the BAU. You have for about three years now.”

“I do? I – I, this is a lot. What does this mean? Have you called my emergency contact?” You asked.

“I uh – I am your emergency contact.” Agent Hotchner spoke up.

“What, why? It has always been my mom, I don’t understand.”

“I’m so sorry, your mom, she uh – she passed last year. That’s when you switched it over to me.” Agent Hotchner’s gaze shifted down to his shoes.

“She’s gone?” Your voice cracked.

“Okay, this has been quite a bit of information. The most important thing right now is getting healthy. We want to keep you here a little longer to continue monitoring the swelling in your brain. Once we’ve confirmed it has gone down, you’ll want to get back in your usual routine, that is the best shot at getting your memory back.” Dr. Raynor gently patted your leg.

“How am I meant to get back to my normal routine when I don’t know it? The one person I had, I just found out is dead.”

“Given that Agent Hotchner is your emergency contact, we would be able to release you into his care. For now, we just need to stay positive.” With that, Dr. Raynor made her exit.

“I know this is a lot, but the BAU, we’re like a family, that includes you. Each member of the team is going to be willing to do anything to help you throughout this process.” Agent Hotchner said.

Part of you knew you could trust him; he had kind eyes, and you knew he was genuine. However, the other part of you felt so hopeless, like a lost kid in a department store. How were you meant to go home with this man who you didn’t know.

*Five Days Later*

“Do you have everything?” Aaron asked.

He had been with you every day for the last five days. He had brought you some things from your apartment and asked you to call him Aaron for now while you were “getting to know him”. You had to admit, it had been pretty nice talking with him the last few days.

“I think so!” You looked over at him. “I know that I am meant to be staying with you, at least until I’m fully healed, but could we go to my apartment first? I’d like to see it and maybe go through some of my things?”

“Of course we can.” Aaron nodded, gesturing towards the door.

The drive to your place was filled with small talk, mostly you asking Aaron questions about the BAU and the time you’ve spent there. It felt weird asking the man who is technically your boss about your personal life.

When you arrived, Aaron made sure to open your door for you and carry your bag into your home. He led you inside and you couldn’t help but notice how comfortable he seemed in your place, like he’d been there before. Like he belonged there. You shook the thought from your mind.

“I got you a new phone, it’s all set up for you.” Aaron said handing you the device.

“Thanks! Were they able to back up the old one? I was hoping to go through old texts and pictures to gather some insight into my life. God that sounds weird.” You huffed out a breath.

“I have our technical analyst Penelope Garcia working on that for you.” Aaron informed you.

“That’s great, thank you.”

The truth was, Aaron didn’t have Garcia backing up your old phone, at least not yet. He knew that if he had brought it to her she would uncover all the private texts and photos that you two had shared over the last year. He didn’t want to risk everyone finding out about your relationship, especially now when he wasn’t sure what your future would hold.

Aaron watched you as you made your way around your apartment. You wandered slowly around letting your fingers graze the spines of books on your shelves, picture frames on the walls and tchotchkes that were strewn about your desk and shelves. 

He so badly wanted to pull you into his arms, kiss your head and tell you that everything was going to be okay. He wanted you to know that he wasn’t just your boss. But he also thought about all the things that could go wrong if he told you. You could question your own ethics and fall into self-loathing with the thought that you’d potentially slept your way to the top – this was the furthest thing from the truth, but he knew you and the way your mind spiraled. He wondered if it would just be easier if he let you find yourself all on your own, to let this thing between you go and hope that maybe you’d find your way back to him again.

When he looked over to you once again, he saw that you had found a photo album. It was one he was very familiar with; Garcia had gotten it for you on your 1-year BAU anniversary and filled it halfway. Since then, you’d continue to add to it all the photos you’d taken with the team.

You hadn’t realized you were crying until a tear had fallen onto the picture you were currently examining. Your emotions were running high, looking through the album was so strange it felt like looking at a stranger and yet it was you in photo after photo looking happier than ever with these people you couldn’t remember.

You felt the couch dip beside you and Aaron gently rubbed his hand up and down your back.

“I can’t imagine how overwhelming this all must be. I know that I can’t understand but I am here for you and I’m happy to lend an ear if you want to talk about it.” Aaron quietly soothed you.

“Thank you so much Aaron. I just don’t know how to wrap my head around this being me but not remembering it. Clearly you all mean so much to me and yet I have no recollection of any of this.” You sobbed.

Aaron and you sat like that on your couch for a while. He gave you the time you needed to calm down, while holding you, whispering sweet nothings to you. You felt oddly comfortable there in his arms, your mind shifted to the thought that enjoying the way his arms felt around you was also incredibly inappropriate given that he was your boss. At that thought you shifted slightly. You thought back to why you had signed up to audit Aaron’s lecture and while the main reason was the knowledge he’d lend you, a part of you allowed his looks to give you that final push in signing up.

“I should probably grab a few things so we can head out.” You whispered.

“Do you need any help?” Aaron asked.

“I should be okay, but I’ll let you know!”

Aaron drove the two of you back to his apartment, for the time being he had asked Jessica to keep Jack, this way you could adjust, and Jack also wouldn’t out your relationship. Aaron had his guest bedroom set up for you, he’d set it up with some of your favorite things. A lavender scented candle, extra pillows, a fluffy blanket, and he made sure to set a small trinket dish on the dresser, so you’d have a place to put your jewelry.

These of course were all things Aaron had previously had at his place for you. When you two had gotten increasingly more serious, he encouraged you to leave some stuff at his place and he’d gone as far as to supply some of your favorites around his home for you.

Aaron led you into his home and you couldn’t help but glance around, really taking in your surroundings. You couldn’t help but take note of a few things as he showed you around; there was a photo missing from the side table next to the couch (you could see the tiny bit of dust that must’ve collected around it), the pantry was stocked with quite a few of your favorite snacks, there was a pink coffee mug in the cabinet, and lastly, tucked under the shoe rack near the front door were a pair of fluffy gray slippers.

You couldn’t explain why, but there was a slight pang of jealousy in you as you thought of Aaron having a girlfriend. You knew you had no right to feel that way and it would be incredibly inappropriate, but it was a gut reaction.

*One Week Later*

Aaron and you had fallen into a weird sort of routine, it started to feel a lot like the 50’s, you making dinner and cleaning while he worked. You were starting to get a bit stir crazy, which is exactly why you were so excited today. Garcia would be coming by to see you; she was bringing over a bunch of photos and videos of you with the team throughout the last three years.

It was a paperwork catch-up day for the BAU, so Aaron had given Penelope the go ahead to take a long lunch and spend some time with you. So, when a knock on the door rang through the apartment, you couldn’t help the burst of excitement that coursed its way through your veins.

“Hi Penelope!”

“Hey babe! How are you feeling?” She asked, giving you a look of concern.

“I’m feeling pretty good, you know, except for the missing five years of memories thing.”  You let out a low chuckle.

“Oh goodness! Well, I’ve brought a ton of stuff that might help bring some stuff back. I read that sense of smell is the sense that links with memories the strongest so have a bunch of things for you to smell while you look at photos in hopes something will come back to you.”

“That sounds like a great idea!” You smiled at Penelope.

The next hour or so went by with Penelope showing you photos and videos along with passing you various items to smell in hopes of bringing back some of your memories. And while it wasn’t like a wave crashing over you, bringing all your memories back, it did bring some things back. You could remember the members of the BAU and some of their quirks, you remembered the feeling of being in the bullpen (thanks to the smell of some very burnt coffee). What you were struggling to regain was your emotional memories, you couldn’t quite pinpoint the relationships you had with anyone from the team. 

“I am glad that this helped! I should probably get out of your hair though; I can tell you have headache.” Penelope

“Thank you Penelope, I really appreciate all of this!”

You led her to the door, and she reminded you to get some rest and to take it easy. She also suggested that you come by the BAU for lunch in the next week or so to see everyone. The team had been doing a good job of not overwhelming you and allowing you time to get back in the swing of things.

“Oh, Penelope before you go, did you get a chance to back up my old phone? Aaron said you were working on it.”

“Oh, hon. He must’ve forgotten to mention it, but I will get started on that right away! I’ll text you as soon as I’m done, okay? We will just be able to pull the backup and put it on your new phone!” She said pulling you into a tight hug, before making her exit.

Why would Aaron have lied to you about your old phone? Maybe Penelope was right, and it just slipped his mind, he had been dealing with a lot, taking care of you, and having you stay with him.

You hadn’t meant to snoop, honestly, but after having talked with Penelope, the feeling Aaron was hiding something from you was extremely prevalent. You decided to look around a bit, you know, while putting the laundry away. You needed to put the towels away in Aaron’s bathroom, you just happened to notice the second toothbrush in the holder, the dress hanging inside his closet (come on, the door was already open), the ring box tucked in his sock drawer, what shocked you the most were the photos in the hall closet. It was a photo of him and a tall brunette that had you spiraling, where was this woman? You had clearly been invading his space long enough and you couldn’t bear the thought of coming between him and this woman who was to be his fiancé.

You needed to get back to your life, and out of Aaron’s hair. You decided that you’d tell him that night over dinner, you were going to move back home.

“Hey, I’m home!” Aaron called.

“Hey, how was your day?” You asked.

Aaron explained that his day was good, and he asked you about your get together with Penelope as you finished up dinner. Aaron set the table as you followed behind him plating up the food.

“I’m glad to hear things went well with Penelope. I think lunch with the team is a great idea.”

“Aaron I’m gonna move back home.” The words flew out of your mouth faster than your brain could catch up. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to impose on your life any more than I already have.”

“It’s truly not an imposition, but if that’s what you want.” Aaron looked deflated.

“I just think it’s important we both get back to our usual every day.”

“If you think that’s best.”

You two ate in silence. Afterwards you both went to the kitchen, cleaned up the dishes and made your way to your separate rooms. You began packing up your belongings and Aaron scrolled through photos of the two of you from before the accident.

*Two Days Later*

“Good morning gorgeous!!! I am calling to inform you that the backup from your old phone is ready, and I also think it is the perfect day for you to come in and have lunch with everyone!” Penelope sang over the phone.

“Okay, what time should I come down there?”

“Ummm maybe around 12:30? Everyone is usually ready to eat by then. I can call and order in something too!”

“Oh, and uh Pen, I don’t know the address, and I’m not cleared to drive.” You said shyly.

“Oh shoot, okay! I’ll see who is available to come and pick you up, no worries.” Penelope reassured you.

You took some time getting ready, most of the team hadn’t seen you since before the injuries, and while the cuts and bruises have faded and scarred, you still had a very broken wrist and frequent headaches, along with PTSD and anxiety attacks thanks to the TBI. You felt like you had been doing well, and based on your recent check-up with your neurologist, things are trending up in regard to your health. Though you began to worry that the worst had yet to come.

A knock on your door shook you out of your thoughts, as you made your way to answer it, you wondered who Penelope sent to get you. Pulling the door open revealed someone you were hoping you wouldn’t see so soon.

“Hi Aaron.”

“Hello, were going to go pick up the food on the way back to the BAU, if that’s okay.” Aaron explained.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You nodded.

The drive was filled with tense silence. You couldn’t help but wonder why Aaron would harbor any negative feelings towards you. You’d only moved out of his apartment so he could get back on to his life, if anything he should be grateful that you’ve gone home. One of the main reasons you’d really decided to go home was because of the fact that you were growing far too comfortable.

Things at Aaron’s house were starting to feel right, like it was where you belong. You had no idea how you had been able to work with him over the last few years, the crush you had on him all those years ago had only proven to grow stronger.

“I’ll run in and grab the food.” Aaron said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

Before you could reply, he stepped out of the car and made his way into the restaurant.  

Aaron got you signed in with a visitor’s badge (as you weren’t cleared to work) and then he led you up to the sixth floor, BAU bullpen. Upon walking in, you felt an odd sense of familiarity. You knew that it would make sense for the BAU to bring memories back and that you would have muscle memory to help lead you through the building, but it felt very strange.

You looked over at Aaron, “I need to go see Garcia, do you mind pointing me in the right direction?”

“Of course, her office is that way. Second door on the right.”

“Thanks.” You smiled.

You wandered through the corridor, catching a glimpse of Garcia through her open door. You lightly knocked on her door and walked into her office.

“Oh! Hello gorgeous!” Garcia squealed, standing, and pulling you into a hug.

“Hey Pen!”

“Let’s get your phone squared away and then we will go eat.”

You handed your phone over to Penelope and she began downloading the last backup from your old phone.

“This should only take a few minutes.”

Penelope and you made idle chit chat for a few moments while waiting on your phone. When it finished uploading, she unplugged it and handed it to you. The two of you then made your way to the bullpen.

Lunch with the BAU was overwhelming to say the least. It was fun talking to everyone, but you could tell everyone was walking on eggshells and you could see the pity flash behind their eyes as you sat and explained your lack of memories with the people sitting before you.

After lunch, Aaron let everyone leave early. It had been a paperwork day and the team had been very productive. He told them all to go home, but of course to leave their phones on, just in case they had to leave. Emily offered to drive you home, given the close proximity of your apartments.

When you got home, you changed into some comfortable clothes and sat on the couch. You took a deep breath and unlocked your phone. There were two things you noticed while going through everything, the first being a significant number of photos saved and the second being the texts exchanged between you and your boss.

You decided to go through the photos first. There were plenty of you with the various members of the BAU, but what caught your attention was one image in particular, in it, you were laid in bed with your head resting on a man’s chest…the man being none other than Aaron.

You quickly switched over to your messages app. Clicking Aaron’s name, you saw the most recent text…

“Be careful sweetheart. I love you.”

Your mind was racing, what were you meant to think, why would he keep this from you? Was the ring meant for you? You needed to see him.

You ordered an Uber and made your way to the FBI building. You signed in, getting a visitors’ badge and headed up to the sixth floor.

“Aaron” You called out into the bullpen.

“Is everything okay? What are you doing here?” Aaron asked as he walked out of his office.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Aaron questioned.

“That we were together.”

You gestured to your phone. Aaron dropped his gaze for a moment, before looking back to you. You could see the pain behind his eyes.

“Sweetheart, we had been keeping it a secret, and I don’t know, I guess I thought that maybe you’d be better off. I figured you might find someone more appropriate for you.”

“That wasn’t a choice for you to make. Aaron things have been confusing enough, losing my memory. But to have you lying to me, it’s total bullshit. How am I supposed to get my memories back if you are keeping such a big part of me a secret.” You couldn’t help the frustrated tears from slipping down your cheek.

Aaron reached for you and let his thumb brush the tear off your cheek. He stepped closer to you and brought his other hand to your cheek.

“I am so sorry. I should’ve told you from the get-go, I was scared. I thought that maybe I would tell you and you’d have to get to know me again and maybe you wouldn’t love me the way you did before. I also couldn’t help but think that I don’t deserve you and this was your perfect out. But that was selfish, I should’ve told you the truth.”

You leaned your head onto Aaron’s chest, and he wrapped his arms around you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline and then he pulled back.

“Can I show you something?” Aaron asked.

You nodded and followed him to his office. Aaron led you around his desk and gestured for you to sit in his chair. He pointed to his computer screen, and you took note of the screen saver. It was a slideshow of pictures taken throughout your relationship, there were pictures of you at the FBI Gala, Jack’s soccer game, art museums, at Aaron’s home, at your apartment, etc..

It happened slowly, then all at once. A warm feeling flooded your veins, and a dull ache filled your head. Tears were steadily streaming down your face. You looked up at Aaron, and he met your gaze. A moment was shared before understanding washed over Aaron.

“I remember.”

[idlyfretting]

I want everything we missed between S3 and S4. I want all of it.

I want the kids starting high school and being totally overwhelmed by normal shit when they’ve only just gotten used to weird alternate dimension shit. 

I want Robin starting senior year and all of her friends from band and soccer and drama club and everything else being like “who the fuck is this person and what did they do with Robin????” because she comes back from summer break and is just not right.

I want Steve baffling Keith because he’s definitely flirting with every girl over the age of eighteen who walks into the store, but he’s not being a douchebag? He’s not being mean to Keith, like at all? He’s not being all buddy buddy with him obviously, because that would be fucking weird, but he’s just sort of being normal? Like a normal flirty good-looking former jock who knows how to talk to people? (And Keith definitely thinks he’s been flirting with every hot adult person who comes into the store, but it’s Steve fucking Harrington so that can’t be right????)

I want Nancy running that newspaper like it’s the goddamn New York Times and nobody even thinks to question her about anything because who the hell is gonna question Nancy Wheeler? She’s scary.

I want Eddie seeing these three freshies walk into the cafeteria with what he thinks is fear, but after corralling them and inviting them to Hellfire and making them eat lunch with him and the other members every day, realizes it’s not actually fear, it’s just sensory overload. They’re not actually afraid of the popular kids or the jocks or the teachers or the bullies, they’re just baffled. Almost like they didn’t realize it should be an issue at all?

And they start coming to Hellfire meetings and these kids are fantastic. Their characters are perfect additions to the group and the campaign he started at the beginning of the year is gonna be fucking aces because their group is so well rounded now. 

And sometimes Lucas bring his girlfriend Max Mayfield to the sessions, which isn’t so bad because she mostly just sits in the corner doing her homework or listening to music. But sometimes she does listen in, and scoffs at certain plot points in the story, or laughs at parts that definitely aren’t supposed to be funny.

And Robin Buckley shows up a couple times as well, mostly doing the same as Max, but one time she watched them play and it was nerve-wracking as hell having someone essentially stalking around them, giving whispered comments to the three freshmen that either resulted it grim nods or obnoxious laughter. Which, what the fuck, how does she know these kids???? (Kids who Eddie definitely thinks are half feral, but absolutely loves them anyway.)

But then one day late in October, the session runs late, and it’s just the Hellfire boys this time, and it’s a FANTASTIC boss fight (not the final one, but still a big damn deal), and everyone is tired but riding high on an epic win, and they all file out of the school into the cold parking lot. And just a couple spaces away from Eddie’s van is Steve fucking Harrington’s stupid maroon beemer. 

And Harrington is sitting on the trunk of it, leaning against the back windshield, casual as anything, with Robin fucking Buckley sitting right next to him. 

Leaning against him. Practically sitting in his goddamn lap.

She’s got a book propped open on her knees, combat boots up on the trunk, and she’s resting her head on his chest.

Harrington’s laying all the way back, stupid douchey sunglasses on, either staring at the sky or just full on sleeping. 

They’ve both got matching green vests on. 

A shout from one of the kids has them perking up to look in their direction. Robin rolls her eyes and marks her place in the book before hopping down from the car. Harrington stays where he is but sits up with a grin on his face.

Before Eddie can say anything, Dustin, Lucas, and Mike race over to them and start talking over each other about the campaign. About how fucking cool the session was, about the monster they defeated, about the tactics they had to use to survive the whole things. 

Eddie doesn’t know what he expects to happen, didn’t even consider the possibility of these nerdy freshman knowing Steve “The Hair” Harrington, but they obviously do. 

Harrington just nods along, asking them a question that Eddie can’t hear that spawns another slew of comments from the kids. The three of them pile into the backseat of the beemer while Buckley takes the front and Harrington slides into the driver’s seat. As the car starts up, the radio blares something loud and poppy and definitely something from the top 40. 

This doesn’t seem to deter the kids, who Eddie can see leaning forward from the back, still regaling Harrington and Buckley with their successful session. The red beemer pulls out of the lot, and continues down the street out of sight.

Eddie is still standing by the back entrance of the school, Gareth, Jeff, and Alan behind him. All of them frozen, completely dumbfounded by what the last five minutes.

“What the actual fuck?”

[xxsp3llb0undxx]

A Day To Remember

Jasper Hale x Fem!Reader [989+ Words]

Summary: Jasper takes his human mate back to his home state, Texas, for some time away from their families.

Disclaimer: Please do not repost my work to other sites or claim as your own, this is purely written from my imagination and from the help of the franchise. All rights of the main storyline goes to the writers and producers of Twilight.

WARNINGS: FLUFF // JASPER BEING A GENTLEMAN // USE OF Y/N // UNEDITED

Jasper hadn't been back to Texas in almost 200 years, not after everything that had happened. Not after what he had done. But it seemed he couldn't deny the request of his mate when she asked to see the state where he grew up, where he became the man she valued and loved. So he did just that.

Jasper had planned everything secretly, with the help of his sister Alice of course. Packing up the car with all the essential things Y/n might need before getting in the car and driving all the way across town to pick her up.

Driving cross-country wasn't the best thing in the world but Jasper was thankful he didn't need to sleep or eat, otherwise the journey would've taken longer. As Y/n slept peacefully in the passenger seat, Jasper held her hand ever so delicately, tracing soft patterns into her knuckles. To say he loved her would be an understatement, he was infatuated with her. The way her lips parted ever so slightly as she breathed, how her eyes would flutter every so often, the soft rosy pink tint across her cheeks. Jasper felt things for her on a whole other level, it was like he was consumed by her.

By the time they made it to the hotel Alice had booked for the pair, it was midday. The sun hiding away behind thick, grey clouds as rain pitter pattered against the windshield. Jasper gently shook Y/n, careful not to startle her. She opened her eyes, blinking a few times until her vision was no longer blurry. Looking up at Jasper, a small smile tugged at her lips almost instantly. She leaned over the centre console, pecking the blonde vampires lips ever so softly. Jasper let out a quiet hum of content, his hand trailing along the underside of her jaw as he pulled her closer, savouring the taste and feel of her lips before pulling away.

Jasper, being the gentleman he is, got out the car first, holding up his forefinger to Y/n as if telling her to stay there as he rounded the car and opened her door, holding out his hand for her to take. Y/n slipped her hand into Jasper's, slowly getting out the passenger side of the car as Jasper shut the door behind her. His arm wrapping around her waist as he lead her inside the hotel lobby. As they got their room situated, the bellhop took their luggage to bring it up for them, though Jasper insisted he could do it.

The following day, Jasper and Y/n headed out for a little sightseeing trip around Texas, starting in Houston. Jasper took Y/n out for breakfast, telling her all the stories about when he was a young lad running around this specific part of the city. After breakfast, they had gotten back into the car, driving all the way down to Orange County. Y/n was unbeknownst to anything Jasper had planned, the young girl just going along with everything he said or did.

After an hour or so, the car stopped outside Shangri La. A botanical garden and nature centre. The weather hadn't cleared up, still the same gloomy sky as yesterday but Y/n didn't mind, it meant less people being around and Jasper wouldn't get found out for being a vampire.

The pair walked throughout the gardens hand in hand, Y/n pointing out the array of flowers growing all around. Jasper just smiled, watching her ramble on about her favourite flowers with a smitten look on his face. God he loved her, how did he get so lucky. The blonde vampire had lead his mate to a more secluded area, the pond of the blue moon, sitting down on the wooden platform as they looked out at the deep blue water around them.

"It's beautiful.." Y/n breathed out, her voice soft as she spoke. Jasper hummed in return, his topaz eyes glued to her face. "It sure is." He said, his voice barely above a whisper. Jasper gently cupped the side of her face, turning it so she could look at him. His thumb rubbing small circles into the skin of her cheek.

"I want to ask you something, something I've been dying to ask you from the moment I met you.." Y/n looked at Jasper in confusion, her head tilted ever so slightly to the side before she nodded her head, urging her mate to speak. Jasper let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, not like he had lungs that even worked, before he grabbed her hand and held it lightly in his own.

"I have loved you from the moment we met, I knew you were the one I wanted from the very first time I felt every ounce of your emotions swarm my head like a plague. You accepted every part of me, being a vampire, playing a part in a war that took thousands of lives.. you loved me even when I didn't believe I could be loved. I want to spend the rest of our lives together, whether you want to grow old or you would prefer to go through the change, I want to be there for it all. What I'm trying to say is.. will you marry me?"

Silence. Pure silence. Before Y/n threw her arms around Jasper's shoulders as she squealed in happiness. He could feel the joy radiating off her. The raw, unfiltered euphoria coursing through her like a wildfire. Her soft rants of "yes, one thousand times yes" falling from her lips as she hugged the vampire closer, clinging to him like a lifeline. Never in a hundred years has Jasper felt this content, this at peace within himself and it was all down to the girl wrapped tightly within his arms, like armour protecting her from anything and everything.

[blair3writ3s]

And I Can’t Help Myself | Kyle Scheible

Kyle Scheible x F!reader, smut

You and Kyle end up stuck in the same hotel room after a concert, and he tries his best to stay as far away from you as possible. Spoiler, he ends up knuckles deep inside you.

Warnings: confused to lovers. The CLASSIC one bed trope. Cussing, inexperienced reader. Reader calls people “babe” platonically. Kyle speaks French because Timothée does and it’s the hottest thing ever so!! The French is in italics :}

OOC but I don’t care

MDNI

Your extremely rusty, ancient car rumbled down the highway. The steering wheel trembled slightly beneath your hands. Honda Civics, seating exactly five, had almost enough room to fit the band. Almost. You had to make Kyle sit in the trunk.

Luckily, your car was a hatchback, and police officers didn’t have much interest in pulling over a rag-tag car full of high schoolers; blasting Seven Nation Army.

Olive, sitting next to you, shouted the lyrics of the song. Her blonde hair was all mused up from the wind, but it still looked marvelous.

Tony, Miles, and Jake, in the backseat, sang along. Their yelling was completed with air guitar motions and air drumming. With the windows rolled down, it was a madhouse.

Between the loudness of your band; and hair flying everywhere, it was almost enough to take your mind off the show tonight.

Almost.

The car rumbled along, nearing the shabby hotel Olive had booked for us. It was the closest hotel to our venue, and the cheapest too.

Turning down the radio and rolling up the windows, you shouted, your voice laced with excitement, “Guys! We’re almost here. Get your stuff together.”

Olive grinned, exclaiming, “Between your horrible driving and Ky in the back,” Kyle held up his middle finger from the trunk, face blank.

“I thought for sure at least one of us wouldn’t make it.” She laughed, her laughter a bird-like chirping. You swatted at her leather-clad arm playfully, scoffing at her antics.

Glancing in your mirrors, pulling into the parking spot, you locked eyes with Kyle. He had his book in one hand, bass on his lap. Nausea was plastered on his face, likely from the boat-like qualities of the car.

You snickered under your breath.

-

Kyle, face pale and hands sweaty, slammed the trunk shut with a finality that mirrored the nausea etched on his face. Eyeliner was smudged around his eyes, and his eyebrows furrowed into a frown, a sight that would have sent shivers down the spine of any other girl back at home.

Unfortunately, you weren’t too different from them.

“Remind me,” Kyle grumbled, “To never let you drive anywhere ever again.” He said to you, a sarcastic lilt in his voice.

You turned around to face him, slamming your door shut. “Remind me,” I mocked, “Which one of us has an actual drivers license?” You walked over to him, picking your guitar up off the ground, along with your backpack full of essentials.

He cocked an eyebrow at you, shifting his weight from one foot to the next.

You turned towards the back windshield of the car, hip bumping the side of his upper thigh. Combing your hands through your layered hair, and adjusting your tank top, you made eye contact with him in the mirror.

“At least I can drive, babe.” You commented, ignoring the prickle of fondness that ran down your spine.

“Sure, chérie,” Kyle said, lowering his voice to match the slight grin playing on his lips.

He promptly turned away, ruffling your hair before he walked towards the hotel, following your band mates inside. Your eyes, despite your best judgement, followed his figure. He was stupidly hot, a kind of hotness that a guy like him shouldn’t get to have.

Not that you would ever, not in a million years, tell him that.

-

“ONE ROOM?? I BOOKED THREE!” Olive screeched, an angry redness was creeping up her neck. She glared at the receptionist, “How do you expect 6 people to cram into one room!?”

The receptionist looked blankly at her, glancing at the lot of us. “I don’t know. But I can assure you that your file only has one room under it.” She clicked her tongue “you’ll have to make do.”

Olive clenched her jaw, eye twitching. “LISTEN HERE YOU-“ She raised her voice further, leaning inwards towards the older woman.

“Oli, babe,” You interjected swiftly, grabbing her arm. “Why don’t you go.. take a walk?” Olive’s jaw clenched, shoulders tense as she stomped out of the hotel. She slammed the glass door shut so hard you thought it would shatter. Luckily, it did not.

Pushing through your band mates to the front desk, you smiled in a friendly manner to the clerk. She did not not return your smile.

“Is there any way to book an additional 2 rooms now? We can pay.” You said, putting on your costumer service voice, that you use at your management job.

“Nope.” She said, voice as monotone as ever. “I’m afraid we only have one other free room, and it only has one double bed.” She flicked her eyes back across the group of us, “As opposed to the two separate beds your other room has.” She finished, glancing down to the computer, clicking away.

“We’ll take it! Anything’s better than one room.” Miles quickly interjected, glancing at you pleadingly.

“It’ll cost $100 for one nights stay, and because you’re just getting it now…$50 extra.” The clerk stated, glancing back up at you.

You turned towards Jake, the manager of the band. He swept his dark hair to the side, swiftly giving you the cash for the room.

You passed the money to the woman, and quickly guided the band up to the rooms.

-

“Ok, boys…and Olive,” You said, putting your hands on your maxi-skirt-clad hips. “Oli and I are going to take the room with the single bed, and you guys are going to have to figure out the other room.” You tossed Tony the keys, turning towards the room directly across the hall.

“Really?” Kyle challenged, grabbing your arm before you entered your room. “What are we, children? Why do all four of us have to get packed into that room,” he said, gesturing the boys standing around him, as well as the door to their room “while you and Olive get plenty of space?” He stated, walking towards the other end of the hallway, and towards the other room.

“I vote we split three for three. It’s much more fair.” Kyle declared, crossing his arms. “What do you think, little Miss Guitarist? ” he really knew how to push your buttons, even when you were both feuding over something as fickle as rooming arrangements.

“I dunno, Mister Bassist, maybe I don’t want to share a room with your annoying ass!” You whisper-shouted, pulling Oli inside of the room and slamming the door behind you.

Kyle, from outside your door, yelled “Va te faire foutre, putain de con!”, banged on your door once, then gave up, going into his designated room.

-

“And I thought I had a flare for the dramatic,” Olive teased, setting her outfit for the night out on the bed. “You and Kyle are on a completely different planet. Especially with him yelling his French” She chirped, laughing at the situation.

“I can’t believe I actually won that fight,” You said lightheartedly. “I thought for sure he was going to kick down the door.” I rolled my eyes, turning towards her.

“I know, right? I mean, he still hasn’t given up with the whole dating thing..” Olive said, nudging you playfully.

“Yeah, yeah.” You sighed, setting your bag on the bed. “He’s a player. I’d rather die than give in to that nightmare” You joked, turning back towards her.

Olive sighed, grabbing your hand softly. “I really don’t think he wants to hurt you-“

You swiftly interrupted her “-I’m going to take a quick shower before I start getting ready, ok, babe? I want to look perfect for tonight.”

“Sure,” she sighed, flashing you the classic; ‘I-don’t-agree-but-I’ll-go-along-with-it’, best friend look.

-

Your clothes clung to you uncomfortably, the grime of the day begging to be washed away. Quickly stripping, you set out a towel for yourself and a hair mask. You took your time in the shower, scrubbing, exfoliating, shaving, moisturizing. You were determined to be ready for tonight, who knew how it would go.

The time flew so quick, it surprised you to hear a rhythmic knock on the door, disrupting your trance.

“What’s up?” You called, scrubbing the last of the hair mask out of your hair.

“I’m going to head over to the other room to practice with the boys,” Olive called through the door. “I want to go over vocals one more time with Miles. And I think Tony wants to assemble some of his drum equipment,”

“Ok! I’ll see you in 30.” You called back, excitement flowing through your veins for the approaching show.

You finished the shower, drying off and blow drying your hair. Tonight, you decided, you were going to go all out. Full glam, you suppose.

The room door clicked open, implying Olive’s departure. You heard some mumbling, but it wasn’t outside the ordinary to hear Olive talking to herself. The door promptly clicked shut.

Thinking nothing of it, you finished your makeup and hair, leaving the bathroom in only your bra and underwear from the day to find your outfit for the night.

The bathroom door clicked shut, and you whirled around, startled to find Kyle; sitting on your bed. A small laugh escaped your lips as you saw his flustered expression. His cheeks were flushed a deep crimson, and his hazel eyes stared into yours blankly.

He mumbled “Putain de chaud”, eyes darting away from yours. The bass that he had previously been strumming was left limp in his lap.

“What gibberish are you grumbling now?” You complained, Turing your back on him. Quickly slipping on a stray sweatshirt Olive had left out, you covered your torso and upper thighs from view. “What are you doing in here anyway?” You inquired crudely, digging through your bag for your clothes.

“Merde, I was just looking for my bass, and found it in here near your guitar.” He said, glancing away from your perturbed expression. “And it was really loud in the other room so I wanted to stay in here, ma femme parfaite.” He trailed off, not making eye contact while saying the last part.

“You can’t just switch into French and assume I understand,” You ridiculed him, pulling your tights on. “For all I know, you just called me a “cunt-bitch -whore” I teased, a playful smile pulling at my lips.

“The world may never know,” he said, lying back on the bed, slight smirk playing on his lips. His hair fell across his forehead, eyes closing, strumming his bass absentmindedly. And for a second, you wanted to kiss him.

-

The band unloaded out your car, hauling the musical equipment towards the entrance of the venue. Pushing through the door, you followed closely behind Olive, trying not to bump your band mates with the case of your guitar. The venue was still completely empty, to your relief. It was big, clearly a party scene. There was a slight haze in the air, from what, you don’t know.

Jake, being the manager, walked across the venue, beginning to set up the -sparse- merch he had designed for the band. It was a typical black band tee, but with the name of your band, “L'Enfance Nue”, sprawled across the upper half.

The rest of us decidedly walked over towards the stage, hauling the equipment behind you.

You hopped up onto the stage, placing your guitar and amp cord close to the center, but a little to stage left. Olive was already in the center with Miles, attempting to plug in their microphones to the questionable-looking amp.

Kyle stood to your stage left, also puzzling over the amp and his bass.

“Fuck this. My plug doesn’t fit,” He grumbled, standing up from his crouched position. Turning towards you, he demanded “Did you switch our cords, belle?”

You rolled your eyes at his antics, flipping your hair over your shoulder. Approaching the amp, you grabbed Kyle’s bass right out of his hands. You briefly glanced over it, noticing the black sheen and the shallow scratches throughout the face of the instrument.

You glanced up at him briefly; making, then quickly breaking, eye contact. His brunette hair had fallen into his eyes, mouth slightly agape, creating an aloof look.

You knew better.

“Oh,” you laughed, pulling the plug out of the socket on his bass. “You had the cord twisted. This side,” you clicked it into the amp, “goes here, and this” you finished the circuit, fully plugging in the instrument, “goes into here! Dumbass.” You laughed, strumming a B7 chord on the bass.

“Give that back, belle!” He demanded, grabbing your hand, which was now attempting a bass line that he plays during one of the songs.

“You can’t even play..” he trailed off, staring at your ring-clad hand. His hazel eyes drifted back up to yours, stopping briefly on your parted lips. An annoying smirk tugged on the corners of him mouth.

The position you two were in hit you like a bus. Your bodies were nearly touching, with his hand grasping yours, and his bass hanging from a strap around your shoulders. To an outsider looking in, you were about to kiss.

Yeah right.

You punched his shoulder with your opposite hand, backing away from him. Kyle scoffed, putting his hands up in surrender. Passing him his bass, you padded over to your own cord and instrument, plugging it in and tuning.

Your fingers played with the knobs on the guitar, adjusting it to perfection. You could feel Kyle’s insidious gaze on your profile, but you decidedly avoided eye contact. An embarrassed redness creeped up your neck, the tension of the room was becoming unbearable.

The lights in the venue began to dim, and the stage lights lit up. The ambiance of the room shifted, stirring your nerves. This was really happening, your first show.

-

The night went by in a haze, but the only thing you could really focus on was Kyle. He was in “the zone”, so to speak.

His hair was in his eyes, mouth hanging slightly open. A light sheen coated his forehead, dark eyeliner smudged around his eyes. He was strumming his bass with quick, ring-clad fingers, body swaying slightly to the beat.

And, despite his fuck-boyness, he looked angelic.

Kyle, finishing his bass line, glanced up at you, smirking. You smiled back, completing your solo at the end of the song.

The crowd cheered, a sound that was simply music to your ears. They loved you, loved the band. You basked in the glow of their cheers, hugging Olive from the side.

Kyle sneaked up behind the both of you, slinging his arm around your shoulder. He was smiling the brightest you’ve ever seen him smile, laughter was pouring from his lips like song.

Olive glanced at you mischievously, a small smirk pulling at her cherry lips.

“Y’all wanna hear some punk-ass French?!” She yelled into the microphone, laughing as the crowd erupted in cheers.

You both pushed Kyle forward, giggling as his face turned a bright crimson.

“Um, hey guys,” He said into the mic. There was a few whoops from the crowd, egging him on. “Nous sommes “L’Enfance nue”!” He said, laughing under his breath. “Nous sommes plutôt cool, alors... ouais. Passe une bonne nuit!” The crowd erupted into cheers and clapping.

You never wanted the night to end.

-

But, like all things, it did.

And now you wanted nothing more than to shower and relax, in your bed, alone.

Alas, Olive decided tonight, of all nights, was the night to make a move on Miles. And so, Olive sat on his lap in the backseat of your car, loudly making out with him.

And when you arrived at the hotel, they had wordlessly claimed the room with the two beds, locking the door swiftly behind them.

-

“Guys!! Really? Come ON!” You yelled, banging on the door. Turning to the group, you sighed, crossing your arms. “What are we going to do?” You groaned, leaning against the wall.

“Well.. I guess I can find another hotel..” Jake said, scratching the back of his head bashfully.

“I’ll go with him!” Tony quickly agreed, following Jake out of the hotel. You turned to Kyle, sighing reluctantly.

-

“Alright" you declared, marching towards the door. "Let's get this over with." Kyle followed, his movements mirroring yours. The small walk down the cramped hallway was filled with a tension.

Neither of you dared to speak. Reaching the door, you fumbled for the key, your irritation evident in your clumsiness. Finally, with a click, the door swung open, revealing a room that was thoroughly unappealing.

The bed loomed before you, a battleground for an uncomfortable night's sleep. With a sigh, you began building a formidable fortress of pillows in the center of the bed. Kyle rolled his eyes at the sight, scoffing at you.

“We’re not children, belle,” Kyle stated, starting to dismantle your fortress.

“‘You could’ve fooled me, Ky,” you said, giving up on the pillows. Grabbing your bag, you walked swiftly into the bathroom, hoping to change into something more comfortable.

There was a certain absurdity to the situation, being forced to share a room with someone who you refused to love.

And unfortunately, your resolve you crumbling.

-

You sat at the small vanity, brushing your hair out. You saw Kyle approaching you out in the reflection, but you refused to make direct eye contact.

You knew what was about to happen.

He touched your shoulder lightly, rubbing circles on the exposed skin.

-

“You’re beautiful,” he told you, his voice still soft. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you.” Your voice is soft, too, but it is also nervous, almost fearful.

He knelt down. “Belle, look at me.”

You bit your lip. You didn’t want to look at him. In fact, you were quite sure everyone would be infinitely better off if you never laid eyes on him again, bandmate or no.

You did, though, turning around on the chair hesitantly. He took your hands in his, smiling at you in such a way that your heart fluttered.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” He whispered, clutching your hands. “Your heart is safe with me,” he finished, blushing lightly.

“But I know you,” you told him softly with a slight shake of your head, “And I can’t do this.”

He tensed, his hands tightening around yours. “Why not?”

You shook your head again.

You couldn’t tell him why you refused to allow him to have you, despite him trying so many times in the past. You knew how he felt about you.

But you know how he is, what he does.

“I love you, belle,” he whispered fiercely. “I’ve loved you for months. I want you. I need you.”

“You don’t,” you insisted, yanking your hands away and standing up, backing away from him.

He stepped forward. You turned around, adjusting a table decoration to distract yourself from him.

Then, footsteps.

Hands on your hips.

Being pulled gently backwards.

The firm lines of a male body pressed against you.

The heat emanating from him, seeping through your clothes and into your skin.

“I do,” he said quietly, pulling your hair to one side and leaning down to press kisses into the skin of your neck.

You tried desperately not to whimper.

Logical or not, you wanted him to touch you, and had for a long time.

Kyle’s grip on your hips tightened. “I want you,” he said again. “I need to be yours” Another kiss to your neck. “Please, belle. Please don’t turn ms down. I’ll be good to you, I promise,” he swore. “The best you’ve ever had.” Another kiss, this one open-mouthed.

“I want to fill you,” he murmured. “With me at first, again and again until you’re screaming for it, screaming for me .” He slid his hands up and down your sides, lingering on your hips. “Then I want to fill you with my children.” Another kiss. “And then me again. I’ve been with a lot of women, and I know… I know I’ll never tire of you, never get enough of you.”

You knew he’d been with a great many women, but hearing him say it was like an ice shard in your chest anyway.

“How many?” You whispered, your voice sharp.

“You mean, uh…” he trailed off, embarrassed.

“How many women?”

He didn’t speak for several seconds.

“About seven.”

Another ice shard.

“I see.”

“Does it bother you?” he questioned.

You didn’t say anything at first, but then, “You know it does,”

“But I love you,” Kyle pointed out, winding his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. “I have for so long” You almost scoffed. Then, after a moment, he murmured, “Are you jealous?” 

“Of course not,” you said primly.

His hands tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of your shorts.

“I like that you’re jealous,” he told you, nuzzling your neck.

“I’m not,” you snapped.

Kyle chuckled softly, then sighed and said, “I won’t force you.” He stepped away from you. “But I… I need you to know,” he went on, “that I care for you a great deal. I’ll make it special for you. I’ll make it good for you,” he promised. “I can make you beg for me. I can make you burn for me as I burn for you.”

You turned towards him, bracing your hands against the table behind you for fear you’d fall over, shock evident on your face.

“You…” you paused, “you burn for me?”

He stepped towards you again until he was right in front of you, then cupped your cheeks in his hands. “Haven’t you seen the way I look at you?”

You shook your head, eyes wide.

“Let me be yours, belle,” he murmured, gazing longingly at your reddened lips. “Let me make you feel good.” He was leaning towards you slowly, gauging your reaction. “Please. I need you,” he said again, desperate for you. “Say you’ll have me,” he pleaded. “Say you'll let me take you, make you mine.”

“Aren’t I already yours?” You wondered aloud. Realizing your words, you slapped a hand over your mouth, face turning red.

Kyle smirked at you, chucking softly. “If you are mine I am certainly yours,” he responded.

You’d never thought you’d want to belong to someone, but you wanted to belong to him. Your heart and soul have belonged to him for a long time, though you’d never tell him that. What difference did it make if your body belonged to him, too?

You shouldn’t. You should refuse him. He would break your heart, and there’d be nothing you could do to escape him. You couldn’t very well kick him out of the band, could you?

You shouldn’t let him touch you, but with him looking at you that way, you weren’t sure you could refuse. Your resolve crumbled.

He’s already going to break my heart, you realized.

Unintentional it may be, but he will destroy you nonetheless, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. If you let him do as he wishes, at least you’ll have him in this small way. At least you’ll be able to pretend, for a moment, that he’s truly in love with you, too.

You couldn’t refuse him. You wanted this with him too much.

You clenched your eyes shut and nodded slightly. 

Within seconds, Kyle’s hand was in your hair and his lips were moving against yours with barely restrained passion. He wound his free arm around your waist, tilting his head slightly. 

His lips never leaving yours, moving against you with a gentle pressure, he began to untie drawstring that was keeping your shorts on your waist.

Having been the only person to ever see your body since you’d passed that age of 10, you nearly pushed him away from you, nearly swatted his hands away.

He was still kissing you when he slid your tank-top off of your torso. “Tilt your head,” he said quietly, looking into your eyes. You did so. “Move your lips like I do, okay?” You nodded your understanding, and he smiled. “Good. When my tongue touches yours, just do what I do, belle.”

“What does that mean?” You asked, your voice quiet and rushed as he moved in to kiss you again. “You’ve been calling me that all night”

“Belle?” he questioned. You nodded, and he smiled again. “It means ‘beautiful’.”

You blushed. “Oh.”

And then he kissed you again. Hard. You wanted more, wanted his lips to keep moving against yours, and when you tentatively mirrored his actions, he moaned against you, gripping your hip with one hand and placing the other at the small of your back. When he felt the fabric of your bra, however, he froze.

And you remembered that he hadn’t actually taken the time to look at you in your underwear alone. He pulled back slowly, his eyes sliding down your body.

It was a fairly typical set, black lace and pink stitching that led to a bow in the center. It pushed your breasts together slightly, and hugged your curves closely.

It left nothing to the imagination.

The shapes and lines of your body were visible. The color of your nipples, the slightly curved expanse of your stomach, the slender dip of your waist and the swell of your hips.

Kyle could see every part of you, and he stared at you for nearly a minute, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open just a fraction, before the two of them appeared to snap out of the trance they’d been in; him after seeing your body, and you at the horror of him seeing your body.

You crossed one leg in front of the other and covered your breasts with your arms.

Kyle, on the other hand, was in the process of pulling his shirt off as quickly as physically possible.

“No,” he practically growled as he yanked his shirt over his head and promptly began to unbuckle his belt, shucking off his shoes and socks at the same time. “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, as he stripped down to his undergarments (a cotton pair of short pants with a drawstring, which he quickly undid) before sliding those over his hipbones, too, with absolutely zero hesitation.

You didn’t even get a look at his dick, he was on you so fast.

He kissed you roughly, with a groan of, “Belle,” against your lips as he slid the straps of your bra down your shoulders. It caught on the tops of your breasts, and you kissed him back hesitantly. “Take this off, amour.”

He kissed your neck wetly and began to suck on the skin there, and you were lost. Slipping your arms out of the confines of the bra, pulling it off your frame. You allowed him to slide your underwear down your legs, too, so that it pooled at your feet.

And then you were naked before him. Well and truly naked. He stopped kissing you, pulling away from you, panting. “Let me look at you.” When you lifted your arms up to block your breasts from view again, he grabbed your wrists. “No,” he said softly. “No. Tu m'appartiens maintenant.”

You found you quite liked the way French rolled off his tongue. Particularly the way he his mouth moved with every foreign syllable.

“What does that mean?” You asked, forcing your embarrassment at being so exposed from your mind.

He grinned. “It means you belong to me now.”

Yes, something deep inside of you whispered. I am yours.

And then you glanced down at his body for the first time, and…

No. No, this wasn’t going to work. It was not what you’d been expecting at all.

You have masterbated before, and it was indeed pleasurable. But that was two of your fingers, maybe three. Naturally, you’d assumed that a man would be about the same size (and therefore endurable) as your fingers.

Kyle was… Well. He most certainly wasn’t the same size as your fingers. In fact, he was about as thick as your wrist, or very nearly so, and seemed to be close to 7 inches.

Fuck.

This wouldn’t work. No, it certainly would not.

You looked back up at him, scoffing. He was taking a step towards you. You took one back. He raised an eyebrow at you, and you shook your head in response, earning a frown from your newfound partner.

“Nope,” you squeaked, taking another step back.

“Nope? Why ‘nope’?”

“If,” you began, “if that is what you plan on putting inside me, then I’m sorry to tell you, Kyle, but but there’s no fucking way”

He blinked at you in confusion. “Amour.” He said the pet name slowly, drawing out the syllables. “I promise you, it’s not impossible.”

“We can try, I guess,” you conceded, still inwardly skeptical.

Pushing past your worries, you tilted your head to the side, beckoning him back towards you. And when he pressed his body to yours, you felt it against your stomach.

Good god, but it felt even larger than it looked.

“I’ll prepare you,” Kyle promised, one of his hands resting on your hip. “You were made to take me.” He pressed a kiss just below your ear. “I know you were.” And then, he was murmuring French again. “Je vais te faire mendier pour ma bite.”

“What does that mean?” You gasped out as he trailed kisses up your neck and peppered your jaw with them.

He smirked against your skin. 

“It means I’ll make you beg for my dick.”

You whimpered. “Let me make you scream for me,” he said huskily before kissing you again, even more fiercely than he had before.

“Ky,” you gasped out as he laved at your neck. “Kyle, please—“

“I will,” he promised, cupping your cheek and kissing you hungrily. “Spread your legs for me, mon amour.”

You pushed down your nervousness by force and did so, too absorbed in him to ask the meaning of what he’d said. Once your legs were spread, he slipped his hand between them and began to stroke you.

He groaned when his fingertips first brushed against you. “You’re so wet,” he said hoarsely. “God, you must want me as much as I want you.” You didn’t speak, because he was kissing you again. And then he brushed his fingers against your clit, and you knew it was over for you. Your resolve snapped.

He rubbed you with one hand and grasped your breast with the other, stroking your nipple.

A whimper forced its way out of your throat, and he chuckled against your lips. “Does it feel good?” He was still stroking you between your legs, sending sparks of pure electricity shooting through your veins, and the fingers caressing your breast had started to pinch your nipple lightly. “Tell me if it feels good,” he encouraged.

“It— it does,” You gasped out as he trailed kisses along your jaw.

“Je vais te baiser jusqu'à ce que tu ne puisses plus bouger, jusqu'à ce que tu ne puisses plus respirer, jusqu'à ce que tu ne puisses penser à rien d'autre qu'à moi,” he murmured in your ear.

“Kyle,” you whimpered, “if you— if you’re going to speak French, you have to translate it.”

“I’ll try to remember that.” He rubbed you a little bit faster, pinched your nipple a little bit harder. “I said I’m going to fuck you until you can’t move,” he told you lowly, “until you can’t breathe, until you can’t think of anything but me.”

He slid a finger inside of you, and it was insanely better than when you’d tried it on yourself. It was… it was divine. He pulled the finger out again, pumping it a few times and rubbing that spot with his thumb all the while.

A wet squelching sound filled the room that you were embarrassed by, but Kyle seemed to revel in it. “So wet for me,” he groaned, leaning his forehead against your shoulder and sliding another finger inside you.

You clutched at his shoulders, and your hips started to move against his hand. As soon as you became physically responsive, he lifted his head and kissed you desperately, his hand leaving your breast to cup your cheek as you practically rode his fingers.

You panted and whimpered, and when he saw you biting your lip in effort to keep quiet, he pulled your lip out from between your teeth with his thumb, stroking it.

“I want every part of you,” he whispered on an exhale. “I want to hear every sound you make. Don’t you dare hide them.”

Shutting your eyes tightly and letting your head fall back against the wall with a soft thunk, you stopped trying to suppress your whimpers and cries of his name.

“Kyle, Kyle, ah, ah, Kyle—“

“I know, gentille fille,” he said quietly. “I know.”

“Oh, God, Kyle—“ you cried out.

“Trust me, beautiful. Let go.”

You were certain you were going to die. It felt as if he continued, you would die. It felt good, it felt incredible. You didn’t know how he was simply so good, but you were so grateful for it.

“Let go,” he said again, and you fisted a hand in his unruly hair, kissing him with a desperation you hadn’t known you’d had in you. His tongue brushed against yours, and you moaned into his mouth, yearning for him.

You were going to explode after all. This orgasm, it was building inside of you, and with it, your love for him was, too, and he kept thrusting his fingers into you, kept stroking you with his thumb, and you kissed him again, for fear you couldn’t contain the words within you, but then your head leaned back of its own accord.

“Kyle Kyle Kyle please, please don’t stop—“ you moaned loudly, chanting his name like a prayer.

“I won’t,” he promised darkly. “Cum for me, amour.” You cried out again, and he leaned down and bit your neck. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Cum for me.”

“Ah ah ah, oh fuck, Kyle—“ You were sobbing now, and Kyle leaned down to suckle at your nipples, biting them gently. You practically screamed, and then you burst into starlight, and as you did, something emerged from you that you couldn’t have contained no matter how hard you tried.

“Ky,” you were sobbing.

“I know,” he murmured against your breast.

“Kyle, I love you, please, I— I love you, I love you I love you I love you, Fuck, Kyle, ah!” He froze when he heard you say it, but you were already clenching around his fingers, your body convulsing.

He pulled back from you and removed his fingers from within you, still in shock.

“Really?” He finally murmured, tilting your chin up softly. His hazel eyes gazing back into yours.

“Yeah,” you said softly, caressing his cheek. “Yeah.” You repeated louder, a smile tugging at your lips.

-

And they lived happily ever after blah blah blah

-

[smeller-b]

Please help a homeless trans woman with essential repairs!

01/01/2024- Happy new year- Charlotte is a homeless trans woman who is living in her car. This morning, someone threw a rock at her windshield, so she needs to repair it ASAP. She also needs a new phone. If 25 people send $20, that’s enough. Please share and help if you can!

$0/$500

VENM0 @ ruby_arnone, pay//pal

[sunghoons-mole]

the ole pervert neighbor trope

as you are struggling to carry a load of laundry across the parking lot back to your apartment, your neighbor spots you - short shorts, ass swaying left to right... and comes to the conclusion that it would be wrong to follow you back to your place.

...right?

GENRE // pervert!choi beomgyu x afab!neighbor!reader

WARNINGS // MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! just enough smut to tease, slight pervert!beomgyu x neighbor!yn

FROM THE AUTHOR // the txt section of my masterlist has been bare for some time... but i’ve been in my gyu feels. wait no more! hope you enjoy :)

You can’t follow your neighbor back to her place.

Shy and lonely Beomgyu had just returned from his weekly grocery run. He stocked up on the essentials - and by essentials he meant things to snack on to avoid having to make dinner. Not the healthiest choice, but hey, he was a guy in his twenties, after all. 

He was unloading his car, holding a few bags in each hand. Realizing he’d have to make a second trip, he glanced up and spotted you. You had just left the laundry room across the parking lot, struggling to carry a large basket overflowing with clothes. 

As you passed him, he ducked his head back into his car, pretending to grab more bags as he watched you through the rear windshield, in a trance.

Maybe the large basket that held what looked like an entire wardrobe would explain why you were wearing basically nothing. And maybe that would explain why Beomgyu’s erection was growing by the second, fighting the tightness of his jeans. 

Maybe that’s why he didn’t make it up to his apartment.

You can’t follow your neighbor back to her place.

He cursed at himself, no longer thinking about his fresh stock of snacks - evident by the fact that he was about to leave a box of ice cream bars in the backseat to melt - and locked his car, waiting for you to turn the corner before following in your footsteps. 

* * * 

A minute or so of trailing behind you ends when Beomgyu lingers behind a car, watching you open the lower level door and ascend the stairs. Oh, how he would have loved to watch your ass as you climb each step...

Wait.

“Need any help with that, ma’am?” Beomgyu finds himself just inside the door, looking up at you as you struggle to maneuver the basket a few stairs above him. 

You pause, and smile down at him, grunting in pain. “Actually, that would be very kind of you.” 

He rushes up to take the basket from you, and even though he is standing two stairs below you, he is still towering above your head. You smile at him. “This way.”

Beomgyu effortlessly climbs the steps, and in about one-third of the time it would have taken you to make it, he is already at your door. 

He watches you fumble with the keys, his heart drumming in his chest. He can’t believe he spoke to you. Now what would happen? Would you ask him to carry the clothes into your place? Or would you grab the basket from him, drag it into the kitchen, and dismiss him back to his own lonely life?

Poking through a hole in the basket is a pair of your panties, baby blue with lace trim. He’d always thought of you as a white panties kind of girl - and the sight of these blue ones was making him grow hard again. 

Before he realizes what he’s doing, he makes sure you are still focused on unlocking your door, pulls the underwear through the hole and shoves them into his pocket. 

His eyes widen as he processes what he has done, but his smile returns to his face when your door finally opens and you hold the door, as if you expect him to go in first. 

Holy shit. 

He was going to have to put the basket down - with a hard on.

After setting the basket down, Beomgyu calmed himself and turned to look at you. You shot him a smile. “That laundry is heavier than I am. I really appreciate it, um...”

“Beomgyu,” He blurts, holding his hand out for you to shake. 

You smile again, shaking it. “Beomgyu. Y/N. Thanks again.” But your hand doesn’t leave his. For the first time, you catch his eyes. They are absolutely stunning. 

His nerves overtake him, and he rips his hand from yours, scratching his head. “No problem at all. I guess I’ll see you around?” He inches towards the door. 

“Do you want anything?” you blurt. “A cup of tea, or...” you gesture towards the microwave. “I really owe you.”

Owe me what? I would love to get a favor from you...

“It’s not a big deal, promise.” He grinned at you. “But I can stay for a cup.” 

“Great! I’ll get that started. You can sit on the couch if you’d like.” You turn around and pull two mugs out of the cabinet.

Beomgyu starts sweating nervously as he makes his way over to your living room, and only when he has taken a seat does he remember what’s in his pocket. Great.

* * * 

Beomgyu couldn’t remember how he’d gotten where he was, or what he had for breakfast that morning. In fact, there was little else on his mind other than how soft your hair felt tangled in his hand, and how your mouth tasted like warm vanilla tea, and how nice you smelled. Moments ago he’d been watching you cross the parking lot, admiring your ass as a stranger. Now he was about to devour you on your own couch. Holy shit.

You let out a soft groan as Beomgyu bit your bottom lip, and he almost went wild at the sound of it. You were so quick to melt under his touch... just like his ice cream bars in the backseat. Shit. 

He scolded himself for thinking about ice cream when he had such a beautiful sight below him. He could worry about that later. 

As if reading his mind, your hand snaked under his t-shirt and down his abdomen, sending jolts of electricity through his body as his anticipation grew. The closer you got to his zipper, the more he could feel his member stirring to life. He hoped you’d like what you found there. He really hoped so.

You found a bulge, but it wasn’t him. You knew you had probably found the underwear he stole from you, the pair he failed to tuck into his pocket completely. But you weren’t as bothered as you thought you should be. In fact, it kind of turned you on. 

Beomgyu tensed up as he felt your hand on the outside of his full pocket, afraid he had ruined what was going for him. Surely, you’d be uncomfortable, and tell him to leave. He’d have to go home without your underwear, and get himself off while thinking of how he almost had the opportunity to be inside you. 

But you quickly moved your hand to the other bulge in his pants - the one you had been looking for. The one that had you licking your lips as soon as you felt it. He was impressive, you could already tell. Just grabbing him through his jeans was enough to send a fresh wave of warmth between your legs. 

He let out a delicious sigh that had your heart fluttering, a sigh of both relief and pleasure. Your hand over his jeans wasn’t enough for him, and soon he found himself rising to his knees and unzipping his own fly. You giggled at how eager he seemed, and he blushed. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t...” He quickly pulled the zipper up, stuttering. “I didn’t mean to assume that we-”

You reached up and pulled the zipper back down, biting your lip when you saw his erection spring out, still hidden by his boxers. He sighed at the sight of your lip between your teeth - the face you were making at simply the sight of him. 

How would you look when he was inside of you?

“You’re adorable, Beomgyu. And very naïve.” Your fingers travelled beneath the waistband of his underwear, and lightly traced his skin. He shivered at the touch.

“I’m perfectly capable of carrying my laundry up the stairs. But if I didn’t struggle a bit... I’m not sure you ever would have had the courage to introduced yourself.”

~

thanks for reading! with love, sunghoons-mole

[fly1nglow]

WHEN THE BELLS RING (1).

summary ── steve is desperate to make his work environment a less unbearable place and the newly arrived teacher could be a good distraction.

pairings & characters ── teacher!steve x teacher!fem!reader, some ocs

additional info & warnings ── fluff, slow burn, reader is supposed to be a ‘big city girl’, reader is also kinda anxious, little steve pov inserted, i guess steve is not accurate but i tried my best </3, no warnings besides that, i guess

author’s notes: ok… so this is my first fanfic after sooo long, but this idea came to me in a dream and i wanted to write, i feel like it kinda sucks but i also just wanna have some fun writing again. also… i know this must be annoying but… should i say english isn’t my first language (and that i dont know how the educational system of united states works)? :/, that should be all, pls be kind <3

The breeze passed through the leaves gently, taking some to the windshield, it was a really pleasant scene to enjoy in autumn, but it was also a great change of scenery in your opinion: Hawkins, from what you knew and had seen so far at that moment, it felt like that kind of small town you see in movies, where everyone knows everyone and nothing really happens, very different from what you had grown up with and lived with all your life, which were noisy cities, tall buildings and people who really didn't care. they paid attention to you.

But sudden changes weren't very pleasant either, yet here you were, in a small town in the middle of Indiana.

After taking another sip of your coffee, hoping the drink would distract you from something you didn't yet know you feared, you grabbed your bag and threw in the items that would be needed to survive your first day of work at Hawkins Public School. Your keys, notebooks and books were everything he considered really essential for the day.

Getting out of the car, you clutched the cup with the now cold drink in your hands, placed your bag in your arms, and headed towards the clearly old but friendly-looking building in front of you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—

Steve was curious to know who would replace Mrs. Brown, because although he got along with most people, his coworkers didn't exactly fit into that category. They were mostly middle-aged people, who thought he was childish, whether because of his age or the way he acted, he still didn't know for sure, but he knew they were his age once and he hoped they would be kinder.

However, he still didn't know how meeting 'the newbie' could help his case, he figured, that maybe by getting to know him first he could get some information and then pass it on to his colleagues, maybe then they would see him as someone helpful and trustworthy, but he still didn't know how that would help him.

It was lost in these thoughts that he found himself in the still empty hallway and in front of Mrs. Brown's old door, now weathered and which he knew made a loud noise when it was pushed in a certain way and now, he was a little unsure, a very different feeling compared to the confident and playful Steve of just a few years ago. But his movements seemed not to follow his thoughts, because now he had knocked on the door.

Before he could step back and get him out of there, he opened the door after hearing a muffled and distant voice say 'come in'.

‘‘Good morning.’’ Steve laughed and hurried over.

‘‘Oh, good morning!’’ A young-looking woman, who was pasting some notices on the wall, turned to face him, left the materials on the table and approached to greet him, as he was approaching.

‘‘I’m Professor Harrington, but you can actually call me Steve, you know, I guess it’s okay, in fact I prefer to be called that…’’

Now he was rambling. He extended his hand for a shake, which she readily accepted. Now closer, he could notice a few more small details about her: her hair was slightly messy, perhaps due to the wind outside, there was also a small piece of adhesive tape stuck near the collar of her pullover sweater, but he pretended not to notice, afraid that she would think he was looking more than he should.

‘‘Well, I’m a physical education teacher. I thought it would be a good idea to stop by and say hi.’’

She then introduced herself.

‘‘That’s very kind of you, Steve.’’

‘‘Well…’’ Steve looked around the room, but his mind was looking for some way to keep the conversation going, or maybe an excuse to leave. ‘‘Do you need help? Do you already know the building? You know I can…’’

Great, he was rambling again. Good way to make a good impression, right?

‘‘Actually, if you guys have a coffee machine, I’d love to know where it is.’’

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—

You definitely hadn't thought much when you left your room and decided to follow Professor Harrington to the staff room, a small room, with white walls, two windows, shelves full of books, papers, some chairs and tables. It wasn't exactly the most comfortable place you'd ever seen. But you just wanted to distract yourself from the hustle and bustle of your own thoughts, because the first day of work had left you exhausted and it hadn't even started yet.

Also, you weren't the type to jump to conclusions because of appearance, but the first thing you noticed was that Steve had adorable eyes that seemed to match the type of person he was. And at the moment he seemed like a lovely person. That he talked a lot.

He had recently talked about how he grew up in the city and how it was a little strange teaching the children of people he had known all his life. You also shared some facts, about where you grew up and where you studied, all while he observed you carefully and asked some questions to keep the conversation going.

‘‘So why did you come here?’’

‘‘Salary, obviously.’’

You tried to joke and he chuckled weakly at your little attempt at being funny. Steve looked away from your figure, as you were drinking the second cup of coffee of the day, he observed the other person who entered the room, but who still didn't notice the presence of the two of you in the room. This made Steve get a little closer to you, still keeping an acceptable distance but so that only you could hear him whisper:

‘‘That’s Professor Watson, from physics… A pain in the ass at first, but if he likes you, he might get you a discount on drinks at a bar.’’

‘‘Discounts in a bar? Why?’’ You whispered back, while trying to focus on the new figure that appeared: it was a small man in comparison to Steve, his hair already showing signs of getting gray and he had a serious face.

‘‘His sister owns one of the bars in town, she always gives discounts to his friends and colleagues.’’

‘‘And you, do you have a discount there?’’

‘‘No, he hates me. But who knows, maybe you’ll be luckier than me.’’

‘‘Good strategy, Harrington, you barely know me and you’re already trying to use me to get discounts at bars?’’

You both laughed and soon the sound caught the attention of the person who was previously the center of the conversation. Steve quickly distanced himself and silently indicated with signs for you to follow him and then, there followed another one of those social formalities that people tend to forget happened easily: introducing yourself.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—

And introducing yourself was the key word and the pattern that followed for practically the entire day: introducing yourself to your colleagues, students and some parents.

The students were as you expected them to be, lively students who preferred talking to their classmates rather than paying attention in class, but, luckily or perhaps your own teaching talent, you managed to get them to pay attention to what you were saying. and they were able to apply their knowledge well to their tasks. As for your coworkers, excluding Steve, your colleagues weren't exactly the warmest and friendliest people you knew, but that didn't take up much space in your mind.

Not long after the last bell rang, you were getting ready to end the day at work and return to your cozy home. Until two knocks on the door distracted you.

Peeking through the half-open door, you quickly realized who it was: Steve trying to be helpful again.

‘‘Do you need help there, newbie?’’

You didn't mind the small informalities when you were quick to decline his help.

‘‘No need, I was already finishing it anyway.’’

He pretended to look disappointed, you couldn't help but chuckle at his theatrics. You quickly finished your things and grabbed your bag, and left the room with Steve following right behind you.

‘‘You know,’’ Steve began as you both walked down the corridor, ‘‘that’s the good part about being a physical education teacher, I don’t need a room, just some balls and a court.’’

‘‘It’s easy when a good number of children love the chance to be aggressive without being reprimanded.’’

‘‘It is,’’ Steve agreed, a fond smile on his face. ‘‘Kids can be a handful, but they mean well. Today, one of them lobbed a ball right at my stomach, but they made up for it with a lollipop as an apology.’’

‘‘A lollipop," you chuckled, ‘‘the universal peace offering.’’

‘‘If lollipops didn't work wonders, doctors wouldn't hand them out after every appointment,’’ Steve quipped, his laughter echoing down the hallway.

Steve walked you to the parking lot, soon stopping near what you assumed was his car. You turned to see him and to say goodbye.

‘‘See you tomorrow, newbie,’’ Steve grinned.

‘‘See you tomorrow, Professor Harrington,’’ you replied with a playful smirk.

He rolled his eyes and got into the car, making your way to your own car as you watched him get further away. Placing your arms a little closer to your body to avoid the cold, you could reflect a little on that end of the day as you once again observed the parking lot, now a little darker as the sun was already hiding, but which you expected to see for a while, for many more days.

In that silence, you could conclude that the first day of work had not been as horrible and terrifying as you had expected.

[syddsatyrn]

Chapter 1 ⛤ Chapter 2 ⛤ Chapter 3 ⛤ Chapter 4 ⛤ Chapter 5 Masterlist

⛤Pairing: - Eddie Munson x FemReader

⛤Warnings: Swearing, drinking / smoking, fluff, friends to lovers. This is probably gonna end in smut.

⛤Words: 1.4k

⛤Song: "Photograph" By Def Leppard

⛤Summary: Moving away from Hawkins was the biggest mistake of your life. You left your best friends and forgot to stay in touch. Years later, you decide to hit up your good friend Steve. Its time to make a plan and make amends. The one thing you didn't expect was feelings to resurface when you saw your old highschool crush.

⛤Notes: This series is 18+ Minors scram. Special thanks to @hellfiremunsonn, I am a wreck without her, lol. This chapter is a little short. We are doing a slow burn, ladies , gentleman and nonbinary friends. Next Chapter will have Eddie in it I promise! Please check out Chapter one before you start this one. Thank you!

⛤Chapter 2: Pulling Strings You walk into work early and meet up with your manager. You explain that you need a week off to visit family in Hawkins. They calculate your vacation time and approve it, it's official! In two weeks you're going back to your childhood hometown. You asked a couple of coworkers to help cover your shift and got lucky, they both agreed they could use the extra hours. It was the longest two weeks that you've ever experienced. You passed the time with some shopping for your trip. You made sure to get all the essentials, and a couple of new cute outfits to bring too. You visited your mom and told her all about your plans, she's excited for you! She even sent you off with a little extra money, just in case.

Everything appears to be falling into place. The anticipation is killing you. But you start to find yourself thinking about Eddie quite often. You thought about his dark brown eyes, and how shockingly cute he was when he smiled. Back when things got difficult with your family, Eddie was always down for some late-night talks, listening to you vent for hours sometimes.

The night before you left, you spent time packing, calling Steve, and confirming some minor details. You took a shower before bed and watched some late night TV. When you finally decide to turn in, you crawl under the comforter and try your best to get some rest. Even if you still feel a huge pit in your stomach.

—--------------

You're beginning to think you should have packed lighter as you hauled your bags down to the car. You load everything into the trunk and settle into the driver's seat. You take a deep breath and start the car, the engine roars and you hit the gas. There's no next time, it's now or never. Time to take a leap of faith and do your best to be a better friend. You might not get another chance. The sun shines through your windshield as you turn the bend, the fresh Indiana air is crisp and clean. As you see the “Welcome to Hawkins” sign, your body starts to tense up. You try to recall the directions Steve gave you in the correct order. You turned onto main street and kept on until you saw the blue apartments named “Hawkin’s Heights”. You pulled into the parking lot and backed into a parking space carefully and cut the engine. 

It took you what felt like forever to get out of the car. But after a few deep breaths and some time to mentally hype yourself up, you are ready. You walk upstairs and follow the numbers until you find apartment 106. You knock on the door and it instantly opens.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you made it!” Steve looks completely thrilled to see you. He scoops you up into a hug and pulls you inside the apartment, shutting the door behind you.

“Hi Stevie” You laughed “It’s so nice to see you!” Steve finally lets go and you recognize the other familiar face in the room. It was none other than Dustin Henderson.

“Oh my god, Dustin?! You’re like…all grown up!” You can't believe how mature he looks now. You give him a massive hug, he's taller than you now. Time sure does fly, kids sure do grow up fast. The boys head downstairs to help you lug your bags inside, thank goodness you didn't have to do that alone.

Once you get inside you notice the boys are taking your stuff down the hall, and you follow them. Once you walk through the threshold you immediately know whose room this is.

“You’ll be staying in Eddie's room. He comes back from tour in two days so you’ll see him then. I’m sure he won’t mind at all.” Steve explains so casually like it's no big deal.

“Oh god, I couldn’t just take his room. I would feel so bad. What if I take the couch?” You ask with a nervous laugh.

“Can’t, Dustin is on the couch. His mom went on this singles cruise. Even now I’m still somehow babysitting.” Steve laughs and Dustin scoffs at him. Your face turns a little red at the thought of sleeping in your high school crush’s bed.

“Don't listen to him, Y/N, my mom is just paranoid.” Dustin retorts as he follows Steve to the kitchen.

They both leave you to order some pizza and give you time to settle in. The room is truthfully very clean, there are Metal posters all over the walls, along with flyers from shows he’s played. He has some Christmas lights hanging for some ambiance. You take a seat on his queen-sized bed, it feels really comfy. The back comforter and black pillow cases were so him. There are guitars hanging on the wall, a couple of guitar stands, and amps off to the side.

I guess it can't be helped. You'll have to deal with it for now, maybe you can crash at Robin’s later. You shut the door and find yourself some lounge clothes to wear, settling on a pair of shorts and a large Metallica t-shirt. After brushing out your hair and setting out some clothes for tomorrow, you decide to join the boys in the kitchen.

“We got two large pepperoni pizzas,” Dustin announces, Steve opens two beers and offers you one. You gladly take it and grin as you see the label.

“Did you buy my favorite beer on purpose?” You ask, poking fun at how much of an accommodating host Steve can be. When the pizza arrives you all settle down in the living room and watch some late-night sitcom. Steve tells you all about the lengths he's gone to get everyone to gather here.

Nancy is coming to visit with Johnathan, they are staying with her parents. Robin has no idea you were here, Steve had to come up with some ridiculous excuse for her not to show up today. Eddie called to tell him when he would be returning in a couple of days and Steve had to play it cool like nothing was going on. He told them we were throwing a get-together at the Hideout but didn't mention you in the slightest.

“Wow…Look at you pulling all the strings.” You clapped softly and Steve took a little bow. You were truly impressed with his ability to put all of this together. “Thank you, Steve. This is so cool of you.”

“It was nothin’ really. You called and I had to make it happen.” He shrugs with a half smile. You hug your friend and decide to excuse yourself. You had a long drive and it was exhausting. You walk back to Eddie’s room to turn in for the night. When you look over at the nightstand you see a pack of cigarettes, half empty. Eddie used to bum you cigs when you hung out at his trailer. You flash back to the time your Dad was drunk and acting out, arguing with your mom. You ran off to Eddie’s place and your mom almost called the cops.

You grabbed one out of the pack and used the lighter next to the ashtray. You opened up a window and placed the cigarette between your lips and lit it. The taste was like shaking hands with an old friend. It was smooth and you almost feel bad for breaking your 3 year streak but also, one won't hurt…probably. That same nostalgic feeling you felt opening those boxes came flooding back in.

We were just teenagers, there were so many signs that he was head over heels for you but you were naive, oblivious, and it hurt you a little. Neither of you had the guts to say anything to each other. A regret that made you feel shameful to say the least. You’ve wondered if he still has feelings for you or is he off having the time of his life with his groupie fangirls?

When you try to define this feeling it's next to impossible, you feel a sense of anticipation. It's like you’re eager to relive some feelings, or longing for a simpler time. You take a few drags and try to wave the smoke and your insecurities out the window. You can't wait to see Robin tomorrow. It's time to get some sleep, you have a feeling you won't be getting much for the rest of the week.

You put out your cigarette and shut the window, turn out the light, and finally crawl under the covers. You have to admit, his bed smells really good, like fresh linen and men's cologne. It made you feel especially comfortable, and it didn't take long to ease into a deep slumber. You could get used to this kind of contentment. 

[eomayas]

new thing (pt. 4) • pcy

pairing: chanyeol x f!reader, age gap

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!!! angst, fluff

synopsis: reader is in her feelings, and so is chanyeol.

warnings: p in v, riding, unspoken feelings, unrequited feelings, reader is in her feelings, minor arguments, reader has a few unexplored insecurities, reassuring chanyeol

a/n: oh this is kinda a filler chapter ngl but it is essential to the story (in my opinion!) thanks for the patience, and i hope you like this one even tho it’s kinda short and it’s been awhile :) hella unedited btw

series masterlist

chanyeol sees your attitude before he experiences it. he sees it in the way you walk towards his car, hears it in the way you slam the car door and yank your seatbelt across your chest. you don’t say anything to him, not even hello, and he watches you for a moment and waits to see if you’ll change your mind. when you don’t, he shakes his head slightly and sighs. “can we just go?” you snap, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“you can’t even say hi?” he asks, looking over at you. you stare out his windshield, not focusing on anything just not looking at him. “hi, y/n.” he says exaggeratedly.

“hi, chanyeol! can we just go, please?” you say frustratedly. you grip onto the seatbelt and press yourself into the door.

chanyeol stares over at you, confused at why you’re acting the way you are, growing tired of it quickly. “y/n, what’s wrong?” he finally asks.

“why can’t you answer your phone? i’ve called and texted you all day,” you say, your voice coming out more whiny than you intended. you feel silly and weak being upset over your calls going unreturned and your texts going unanswered, but it’s been all day. he didn’t even give you the curtsey of letting you know that he was busy.

“i was working, y/n, you know that,” chanyeol reasons, his face etched with irritation.

“you could have texted that you were busy! you didn’t even call—how am i supposed to know what you’re doing if you don’t call?” you reply, getting equally as aggravated as him. the tension between you two is thick. maybe you’re overreacting—you don’t know.

“damnit, y/n, i’m a grown ass man, and when i tell you i’m at work, i mean it. maybe you’re used to these other guys lying about where they are, but i don’t do that,” chanyeol isn’t yelling, but he might as well be with the way he reprimands you. “this is childish—you’re acting childish right now. stop it.” you clench your jaw at the name calling. he’s right, though. he doesn’t ever give you reasons to think he’s anywhere other than where he says he is.

“don’t call me childish, chanyeol,” you say, sounding like a little kid telling their bully to stop. except yours an adult woman, and chanyeol isn’t your bully.

“well thats how you’re acting. now, i’m sorry that you felt like i was ignoring you. can we just start over? i don’t want to argue,” he says and you feel embarrassed at his maturity and your lackthereof, because you can’t apologize as easy and seamlessly as he just did.

a sigh leaves your lips as a response and chanyeol scoffs, putting the car in drive and taking off. he shakes his head at your attitude but doesn’t say anything else, just turns the music up to drown out the silence between the two of you.

chanyeol doesn’t even say anything when he gets to the gas station and goes inside to pay. he leaves you in the car wordlessly and you sulk as you stare out of the passenger side window. you feel bad for being annoying to him. all you really want to do is enjoy the evening with him and his presence, but you’ve put a damper on the mood.

he gets back in the car and gently taps your arm with something cold. you look over and accept the drink he holds out for you. “thank you,” you say, setting it in the cup holder.

“mhm,” he says, and pulls out of the gas station. it’s back to silence, and you huff out a breath. everything in you tells you to apologize to him, but you’re embarrassed. with chanyeol, you always feel the need to impress him, or leave him with a lasting impression. maybe it’s because you’re not entirely sure of relationship, and the 10 year distance between the two of you. ever since you found out about his ex wife, you’ve had this weird chip on your shoulder, like you’re not totally ready for him, and that you’re some young play-thing for him, before he goes back to a woman his own age.

you’re afraid he’s going to get tired of you, and leave once he realizes that you’re not the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, that you’re not the settling down type. you’re afraid that you’ll drive him away, somehow, whether it epiphanic, or you finally pull the straw that breaks the camels back. you don’t know, but it sits in the back of your brain constantly. and by the silence, and the way he’s gripping onto the steering wheel, you’re losing points and backing him against a wall.

you stew in the passengers seat, eyes looking out the window but not focusing on anything. chanyeol glances at you every few minutes, wanting to say something but not being able to find the words.

the car comes to a stop and you finally look up, blinking in as you register your surroundings. chanyeol turns off the car and gets out and comes around your side to open your door, ever the gentleman even though there’s tension between the two of you. you even take his hand and let him lead you into the restaurant, and lean into his touch when his hand moves to the small of your back.

a hostess sits you two in a booth, and you sit opposite of each other. like always, you fall into what feels natural: chanyeol caging one of your feet in between his ankles and you leaning across the table to annoyingly share the menu. the only difference is that you two don’t hold hands, and chanyeol doesn’t kiss you when you lean forward.

you find what you’re going to eat and drink and lean back, awkwardly looking around the semi-busy restaurant. you can feel chanyeol looking at you, so you turn your head to him. “hi,” he says, gently kicking your shins and giving you a small smile.

“hi,” your waiter comes to your table, interrupting your small moment to take your drink orders. you two order and they leave. “i’m sorry.” you blurt, gently swinging your legs underneath the table. you gnaw at the inside of your cheek, hating the tension between the two of you.

the waiter comes back to drop your drinks off. “are we ready to order, or do we need more time?” chanyeol answers for the both of you, and so you order quickly to get them out of your way so you can continue your previous conversation.

“yeah.. i’m sorry,” you say again once the waiter is gone. chanyeol gives you a small smile and takes your smaller hands in his large ones,

“i know. it’s alright,” he says and you shake your head, gently tugging him towards you.

“no, it’s not. i know you’re busy, i just…” you let your words trail off, unsure of what you want to say. you just what? miss him? like him a little too much that it’s bordering on something more serious, more real and tangible that you’re afraid to really confront these feelings? because confronting them means that they’re true, and opens the door for them to be strictly one sided and unrequited?

chanyeol looks at you with kind eyes that urge you to keep going, but you don’t. instead, you gently shake your joined hands together. the words are on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be blurted out, or screamed—admitted. you know that once they’re out, they can’t be taken back. you don’t even know if that’s what you’re really feeling, you’ve never felt this way before, not this strongly, not this soon.

rather than finishing your sentence, you change the subject to him and ask him to tell you about his day. he’s eager to tell you, going in great detail about an EP he’s been working on with a singer and how it’s almost finished, it just needs final touches. you nod along, literal hearts in your eyes as you listen to him go on and on.

later, after chanyeol takes you to the studio, he drives the both of you back to his place. it’s still a bit awkward between the two of you, all the car rides being mostly silent except for a few small comments from either of you. when you were at the studio, you sat quietly on the couch and let him work, not saying much and staying out of his way. you don’t fully feel like you’re back on his good side, though he accepted your apology.

your tactic of keeping quiet so he can’t remember to be annoyed with you seems to be working. you’re so quiet in the studio, that when somebody walks in he nearly forgets to introduce you to them. you’d take offense, if you didn’t feel like you’ve ruined the night.

now the two of you are at his house, heading outside to his jacuzzi. you follow behind him, shivering when you step out into the cold air in only a bikini and slippers, and quickly dip into the hot tub. chanyeol slides in on the opposite side, a decent amount of distance between the two of you.

chanyeol closes his eyes and sinks down into the water until it covers his lips. you watch him, chewing on the inside of your lip. there’s a lot you’d rather be doing than simply just staring at him, but you hold yourself back, not wanting to overstep where you’re not welcomed.

“why are you sitting so far away?” he questions, running a hand through his hair. chanyeol holds his arms out to you, and your heart soars at him needing you, wanting you. you slide over to him, leaving a small gap of space between you two, and he pulls you onto his lap. “you’re being shy. what’s up?” he asks, arms circling around your waist.

“nothing,” you lie and he gives you a look.

“just tell me what’s up, baby,” he says and you want to throw yourself into the water until you need to come up for air. goosebumps form on your shoulders from being above the water, and chanyeol scoops up water onto them.

“i just feel like you’re mad at me,” you admit.

“i’m not mad at you—i never was,” he says and you sigh, giving him the look.

“yes, you were. you don’t have to lie,” you say, focusing your eyes on his neck. you drag your finger across his collarbones before sighing and resting your palms flat against his chest.

chanyeol circles his arms tighter around you. “i wasn’t mad; annoyed? yes, but never mad. i’m over it, you apologized—everything is fine. we’re fine,” he says. you shift your eyes up to his and purse your lips.

“okay,” is all you can say, not feeling 100% sure of his words.

“you can’t avoid me,” he says, kissing your nose. you can’t help but smile, not expecting him to notice.

“so you caught onto that,” you state, making him scoff.

“i notice everything,” chanyeol say matter-of-factly. you make a face and he gently pinches you. “it’s true! just because you think i dont, doesn’t mean you’re right.” he adds, bopping your nose and smiling when you wrinkle it.

“yeah, whatever,” you mutter, but your stomach is flipping and your pulse is going wild at his words. you know you shouldn’t doubt him, especially since he’s never given you a reason to, but sometimes you just can’t help your own insecurities.

chanyeol only smiles and kisses your cheek. you frown at him and he chuckles, asking “what?” like he doesn’t already know the answer.

“can i have a kiss?” you ask, sliding your hands up his chest and wrapping your arms around his neck. he kisses you again, this time on the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, down your neck…

“you can have more than that,” he mumbles against your skin, finally trailing kisses up, up, up, your lips his next target. chanyeol kisses you softly, one hand holding onto the back of your neck while the other splays against the small of your back. you melt into the kiss, grateful to finally have him on you again.

like all of the touches between the two of you, it gets heated quickly. chanyeols fingers pull at the strings of your bikini that wrap around your neck, letting your top fall forward and float around your waist.

he rolls your hardened nipples between his thumb and index finger before pulling away from you mouth to attach his lips to your chest. you let out a sigh and bury a hand in his hair as he licks and sucks at your chest. “yeol,” you breathe, tilting your head back and pushing your chest upwards and into his mouth.

you feel his memeber get hard underneath your ass, and you can’t help but grind down onto him. you roll your hips, the friction of his shorts making him twitch under your ass.

chanyeol pulls his mouth away from your chest and kisses your lips, undoing one of the ties of your bikini bottoms. you help him slide down his swimming shorts and waste no time sinking down on him.

bottoming out quickly, you kiss his neck as you adjust to the stretch that you still can’t quite get used to. chanyeol gropes one of your breasts as he (patiently) waits for you to start moving. once you get comfortable, you don’t hold back; you plant your feet on the jacuzzis bench and pull nearly all the way off of him before slamming back down and doing it all over again.

“fuck, y/n,” he mumbles, drawing his bottom lip in between his teeth. chanyeol rests the back of his neck against the edge of the hot tub, his eyes rolling back when you start making figure-eights on his dick. his fingers dig into your hips and he pulls the other string of your bottoms apart, pushing the article out into the water and letting it float away so he can feel you better.

chanyeol cant help but curse and moan out your name loudly. it only encourages you and makes you ignore the fact that your legs are starting to hurt and your brain is starting to go fuzzy. “fuckfuckfuck,” he grumbles, squinting to look up at you, loving the way you whimper every time you pull him out and sit back down on him. “baby.” he says, his voice slightly hoarse.

the sound shoots straight to your core and you clench around him, a wanton moan leaving your lips. “y-yes?” you hold onto his shoulders as you keep putting in work on top of him. chanyeol chases you lips and kisses you sloppily, his hands palming your ass and moving you up and down on him.

you pant as you feel that familiar white-hot burn in the pit of your stomach. “fuck, i-i-“ chanyeol cuts himself with a groan, pulling away from your lips. you dig your nails into his skin, crying out his name without fear of his neighbors potentially being outside and hearing the two of you. “i’m a-about to c-cum.” he pants, letting his head fall against the outside of the jacuzzi.

your vision goes spotty as you chase your release. you wind your hips on him, crying out his name. “baby, f-fuck, ‘m gonna c-cum,” you whimper, dropping your head onto his shoulder as you reach your climax. you clench around him, holding his dick in a vice-like grip. chanyeol comes almost directly after you, swearing the whole time and holding you close to him.

“y/n,” he pants, kissing under your ear as you lazily continue to grind on him. “i l-lo-“ his voice cuts out quickly, snapping shut and burying his face in your neck to hide his almost slip up, praying you didn’t catch it.

but of course you do. you movements falter, the rhythm of your hips getting lost in his words briefly. you want to say something, to ask him what he was going to say. but you also don’t want to risk getting embarrassed or getting ahead of yourself.

you know what he was on the verge of saying. you tell yourself that it was probably the heat of the moment, because you rode him the best you ever have in your entire relationship. it was lust talking—he doesn’t really feel that way about you.

you tell yourself this after you get out of the hot tub and shower together. you remind yourself of this when he fucks you again under the water, when he kisses you so tenderly, with so much passion that you feel like ripping your heart out of your chest and hand delivering it to him. you keep telling yourself this when he gives you clothes to wear and makes you dinner. when he takes you upstairs and spoons you until you both fall asleep. you tell yourself that he probably wasn’t even going to say what you think he was, when you wake up in the morning with his arm draped across you, and your legs entangled.

you keep telling yourself that it was the cusp of a freudian slip. you don’t bring it up to him, and he doesn’t mention it again, except when he nearly slips up again a few nights later when you’re play fighting on his couch and he pins you into the cushions. this time, his cheeks tinge and he quickly kisses you and removes himself from on top of you and magically has work to do. you sit there, dumbfounded, wishing he would just fucking say it, so you could finally say it back to him.

previous chapters: 1, 2, 3

[zmediaoutlet]

wincest + 7?

The second time Sam listened to the voicemail was at a gas station a hundred miles from the airport where they’d emergency-landed, on their way to Chuck to find out—whatever could be found out. Dean was gassing up their stolen car and Sam said he’d go in to get—coffee, food. Dean said sure without looking at him. The station was bright and the TV over the counter was playing footage from Ilchester. “Crazy, huh?” the clerk said, and Sam said that yeah, it was, and could he please get the key for the bathroom.

He sat on the toilet with the hem of his jeans soaking up something horribly wet and he tried not to breathe through his nose and he held his hand tight over his eyes and he listened to it again. Dean’s voice crackling and strange through the speaker, like he was ten thousand miles away instead of on the other side of the concrete wall. Freak, he said, and monster. Certain it was true.

Sam took a piss after all. When he came out with his hands washed and his face dry he filled up two cups with coffee and he grabbed a handful of granola bars and he stood at the counter behind a woman who was getting twenty on pump 3 and a pack of a cigarettes and who was staring frankly shocked up at the TV, like she hadn’t seen the world ending before. “What happened?” she said, bewildered. The clerk shrugged. She looked behind herself, at Sam, and Sam felt like he was bleeding somewhere essential but unreachable, like all his organs were splitting and his skin would go dark purple-black all over and people would know, at last, what he’d—what had—except that the woman didn’t say another thing and just shook her head and left, and the clerk rang Sam out without paying much attention, and he was disgorged into the warmish night like everything was—fine.

Dean was leaning on the side of the awful little car with his arms folded over his chest, looking at the ground. He glanced up when Sam walked closer and he looked at the coffee cups and at Sam’s knees and his eyes skittered over Sam’s face without pausing. It was a long way to Ohio, he said. Sam didn’t bother to nod. He got into the passenger side and he set the coffees in the neat little pop-out beverage holders and he put on his seatbelt and he looked out the windshield, straight-ahead. Dean sat behind the wheel silent for five seconds before he turned over the inadequate engine and they drove east, unwilling to bear the radio.

The third time Sam listens to the voicemail is after he gets the job at Hoyt’s. At a motel close enough to be convenient but not obvious, the clerk tells him they only have king rooms left. “Hope that’s okay,” he says. It is, Sam says.

It isn’t because the bed is too large and the room is too empty and he stands with his back to the door for almost a minute, which he knows only because the old clock on the bedside snaps to 03:47 while he’s staring at nothing. He’s supposed to be at the new job at 5:00 and doesn’t have time for this.

He sets salt at the windows and door and he bleeds himself just enough to set the sigils a demon taught him at the corners of the room where it will matter and then he takes a shower, as hot as he can stand it, wanting to be skinned and boiled clean and have every rancid rotting part of himself picked away from the frame of his bones and then stitched up right. To be other than what he is. But that isn’t on offer, so he washes his hair and shaves and dresses in clothes without bloodstains and laces his sneakers tight and then sits on the end of the bed, sorting out the wallet for ‘Keith’. Thirty-two bucks and a license he made yesterday at a Staples and a very small very stupid keepsake that he should not have, a business card for FBI Agent D. Nugent, with a number Sam knows will ring to places he isn’t welcome, but against all logic he takes his phone out of his pocket, anyway, because—

Why? He holds his phone in both hands and looks at the carpet fibers, the toes of his shoes. Because they were meant to know where the other was. Because without even a vague idea—state, city, motel—some anchor was missing from the world. But, with what Sam has done, that anchoring chain has snapped, and he doesn’t know, now, where Dean is. Could call Bobby, but perhaps Bobby doesn’t know, either, and worse: what if Bobby doesn’t answer, or if he does answer, what if he won’t tell Sam, for any number of reasons that Sam deserves to have stacked around his heart, ready to scorch the whole thing to cinders.

His stupid heart. Aching, still. Not the fierce stinging pain of a gunshot but as solid and unrelenting an agony as from a broken bone, some fundamental error that will take months to heal. Or it won’t. The king bed’s a joke. The last king bed was almost a year ago, when Dean was back from hell and things weren’t yet as awful as they could be and they’d split a bottle of decent bourbon and Dean had told Sam, laughing, that his jokes were terrible, that he was actually the least funny person on this or any planet, and Sam had propped himself over Dean and dragged his thumb over Dean’s grin and said, yeah, sure, and you’re Mel Brooks, and Dean had promptly said it’s good to be the king, and hitched his thigh over Sam’s hip, and it had been—not perfect, but as close maybe as either of them could ever get, as close to heaven as Sam had ever had a hope for, and Sam’s chest throbs like every single rib has separated from the sternum. Some essential protection lost.

He listens to the voicemail. Dean says there’s no going back.

Sam deletes the message. He rubs his fingertips over his lips and scrubs away ghosts. He texts Bobby, Great Plains Motel, Garber OK, and then turns off the phone so he can’t know if there’s a response. He has work to get to. What passes for a life, after that.

[coimbrabertone]

If You Ain't Cheating, You Ain't Trying...Part Three.

There is a mission in Red Dead Redemption 1 titled "Liars, Cheats, and Other Proud Americans" which I considered using as the title for this blogpost. That being said, the old adage "if you ain't cheatin', you ain't tryin'" is perhaps most closely associated with NASCAR.

And the poster child of cheating in NASCAR? None other than Smokey Yunick.

Henry "Smokey" Yunick had been a pilot in World War II and turned to NASCAR when he came home, driving in the early years of the sport. He is, however, known far more for his work as a crew chief. Particularly the cheated-up monstrosities from the 1966 season.

That story actually begins in 1965, when Dodge and Plymouth banned from competing as their powerful 426 Hemi engines had not met the 500 production units for homologation standards. In protest, Chrysler Corporation pulled all their teams and drivers, including NASCAR legends Richard Petty and David Pearson.

This was a major problem, thus, in 1966, NASCAR allowed the Hemi engine. Dodge and Plymouth returned, along with their star drivers, but in turn, the Ford factory entries pulled out in protest. Thus, Ford driver Curtis Turner instead signed for Smokey Yunick to drive a Chevrolet Chevelle.

Everyone knew this Chevelle was flagrantly illegal...but nobody knew exactly how.

The most popular explanation had been that Smokey built a 7/8ths scale replica of a Chevelle with an oversided engine.

In reality, car was the right size...sort of.

Smokey had raised the floor, lowered the body, moved the body three inches back on the frame for better weight distribution, smoothed out the underside to effectively give it a 90s F1 style flat floor, had the fenders and bumpers flush to the frame, and changed the angle of the front and rear window for better aerodynamics. Yeah.

It gets worse.

Come the August race at Atlanta Motor Speedway, NASCAR had reached an agreement with star Ford driver Fred Lorenzen to get him back in the sport. He, along with another famous crew chief, Junior Johnson, were basically given a blank check to do whatever they wanted for the race, they weren't going to get disqualified.

Thus, the 1966 Ford Galaxie, had its nose to the ground, its rear swung upwards for better aerodynamics, and the windshield was 20 degrees lower than normal. Not only that, but because it was an oval turning to the left, the left side of the car was a whole three inches lower than the right side. This is still done on oval racers today, but uhh...three inches is rather obscene. So obscene, in fact, that Lorenzen needed help just to get in and out of the car.

Painted yellow and with that swing from front to back, they called it the "Yellow Banana."

Smokey's Chevelle, in all fairness, had all the earlier infractions and by now had added an extension to the back of the roof that effectively functioned as an extra spoiler.

Both cars passed inspection.

Cheating had gotten so extreme that, for the 1967 Daytona 500, NASCAR would introduce body templates, essentially the shape that a car needed to be in order to be deemed legal. As advanced as its gotten now, NASCAR still more or less works based on templates.

The key thing is though, in NASCAR, Junior Johnson and Smokey Yunick are venerated. They were both part of the inaugural class of International Motorsports Hall of Famers in 1990. Johnson was then part of the inaugural class of the NASCAR Hall of Fame in 2010. Lorenzen and Turner, who drove those cars are Hall of Famers as well. If anything, they're more popular because they cheated.

With Smokey Yunick in particular, there's an almost folkloric aspect to his cheating.

One story goes that, shortly after NASCAR finally regulated the size of the fuel tanks, Smokey drove one of his cars into inspection. NASCAR took the car apart, removed the fuel tank, and told Smokey that they found nine things wrong with the car. Smokey shrugged, turned the car on, said "better make it ten" and drove off.

How? eleven feet of two-inch diameter fuel hose, wrapped around the car. Allegedly Smokey said "I coulda driven that sumbitch to Jacksonville." Realistically, it seems that much fuel hose would only be good enough for five gallons, and I'm not sure how fuel would get from the line to the engine without a fuel tank in between, but hey, five extra gallons is still an advantage.

Anyway, the point is that cheating is considered commonplace in NASCAR and the greatest cheaters are revered. Even now, there's a belief that the Championship Four cars at Phoenix are cheated up to high heaven because they know NASCAR isn't going to disqualify a championship contender.

Or the car that Dale Earnhardt Jr. drove at the 2001 Pepsi 400 - the first race at Daytona since his father's death at the 500 earlier that year - he was driving away from the pack in clean air on a restrictor plate track. Some people say it was a gentleman's agreement not to get in Jr's way if he was in position to win, some people say the car was the most blatantly illegal thing since Smokey Yunick. Others say the team did nothing wrong but NASCAR gave them a restrictor plate with a bigger opening to get the narrative they wanted.

Nobody knows for sure, but the point remains. Cheating is part of NASCAR, always has been, and it pretty much always will be. Whether it be "HMS never legal again" or "Dem Cheatin' Yoders" NASCAR twitter will constantly have somebody throwing out cheating allegations at one team or another, but nobody really blinks an eye at it. It's just part of the culture there.

Therefore, it's interesting to see the culture clash between the two worlds of American motorsports. On the NASCAR side, cheating is revered, with these stories being told and retold and exaggerated into the folklore of the sport. Meanwhile, on the Indycar side, it's turned Team Penske, and particularly Josef Newgarden, into a villain in the eyes of many fans.

For the two most popular racing series in America, they sure do view cheating through a different lens.

[bromcommie]

I don’t know how I’m meant to choose from such an enticing list of WIPs, “but we kick each other into gear (and off buildings)” is calling my name! Please tell me more!

Hi hi, thank you for dropping in! <3

Okay, so this is the first fic I ever started writing way back during quarantine as a sort of Endgame fix-it, and it's pretty much been dormant for years now because real life got in the way before I could develop all that much connecting plot. Funnily enough, I did also start with Sam refusing the shield (albeit under slightly different circumstances and with Steve not having committed complete character suicide), but for the most part it's just disconnected episodes of Sam and Bucky work-roadtripping around Europe and Asia, slowly figuring each other out and processing their own respective issues and grief + a healthy helping of random local color, OCs, and humor thrown in on the side.

Looking back on it there's so much I'd want to rework there but it's still dear to my heart, so I might eventually go back to it - especially because TFATWS left a lot to be desired, imho, and I'm still mad about it.

One of the more crack-adjacent partial episodes under the cut if you're interested:

More and more, he unexpectedly finds himself having to explain to people that hanging around the guy is not a very dangerous affair these days, strictly speaking, unless you count the occasional collateral damage to Sam’s nerves. It's all a bit unsettling, trying to justify a former international terrorist in the eyes of others like he’s a particularly snappy pitbull with a history of dogfighting: Yeah, he did almost throw that fan to the ground the other day, but they snuck up on us. No, he doesn’t like crowds, but a family get together is okay and he’s surprisingly good with kids. No, no, he doesn’t do that anymore, we’re trying to get him accustomed to more well-adjusted activities, like going for runs and sleeping more than 45 minutes a time. Yes, he’s actually a sweetheart, looking for his forever home. Sam briefly entertains the idea of putting that last one on Bucky’s Tinder profile while he’s sleeping. To be fair, he wouldn’t necessarily call whatever relationship they’ve managed to develop smooth sailing, either, or particularly sanity affirming. But neither is being constantly on the move chasing an unsubstantial lead and yet here they both are, essentially backpacking their asses all around Europe like the world’s most traumatized spring breakers. Here they fucking are. "Where are we, again?" Sam says, squinting down at his phone where the maps app is once again blanking out to a dull grey grid as if to personally spite him. "Poland," Bucky deadpans from the driver's seat but his expression's distracted, fingers tapping out an offbeat pattern on the wheel that clashes with the folky tune crackling in over the faint radio signal. "Hilarious. I meant which town are we about to pass through, I wanna try to look up a place to buy a charger for this thing," he says, sighing when his phone takes that as a blessing and finally gives out with a sad chirp. He casts a look out the window, the rows and rows of tall pine trees blurring together into near-impenetrable greens and maroons as the sun goes down. He hopes they find a place to crash soon — he's about ready to pass out himself, and his back is way past the days it could withstand sleeping in the car. Next to him, Bucky's very quiet save for the soft tap-tap-tap of his hands against the leather. "Barnes." "Hm?" "You have no clue where we are, do you." "No, of course I do. It's, uh." He shrugs, forcibly casual. Sam's going to strangle him. "It's a Polish, y'know. Municipality." "Can you just—" "Old. Probably been invaded a couple of times." "Bucky."

"Lotsa consonants in the name." "You said you knew this area," Sam accuses. "That you've been here recently." "I do," he insists, glaring through the windshield at the idyllic scenery like it spat at him and called his mother something untoward. "I did, at least, but then they had to go and change all the fucking signs, and the roads don't look the same, and the trees are all—" he waves a hand vaguely instead of finishing, like that's supposed to be sufficient explanation or at all helpful to Sam's growling stomach and their equally dead, equally useless phones. "Oh, it's the trees' fault? The trees are different from when you—" He cuts off, a niggling gear turning loud and loose somewhere in the back of his brain all of a sudden. The compounded sleep deprivation's really not helping in giving it a name and a meaning, scattering his thoughts in ten different directions. Something he read once, about trumpets, or— no, the archangel. Why that? They passed a church about an hour ago, but he hasn't been in so long his poppy's probably turning over in his grave, and anyway what does that have to do with— He blinks once, twice. Bucky resettles in the driver's seat, shifty-eyed as anything. The gear rattles, and turns, and turns, and then clicks. Not church. Not trumpets. Junior year of high school, AP History. His presentation on Gabriel Jones, PFC, and his role in running comms with local resistance members during an action, which got him a grudging pat on the back from the brass and shrapnel permanently lodged in the upper thigh. He managed to get himself and two members of his team, including his CO who got shot in the neck, out of the line of fire long enough to get medical treatment. He saved Captain America's life. It was an act of bravery, Sam'd told the class as his teacher nodded along gravely. It was a miracle any of them survived. They were down on supplies, and in the middle of the woods. In fucking Poland. "Oh, you didn't. Tell me you didn't." "What?" Bucky says, a little too defensive, in Sam's opinion, for someone who managed to get them lost in the Polish countryside by virtue of sheer hubris alone. "Tell me you didn't think you could navigate us through Poland," Sam says, slowly so it really sinks in, "with a bunch of jumbled memories of some damn woods from ninteen-forty-fucking-four."

And then in the next scene they talk about parental death, so. *massive shrugging emoji* Consistent tone, who?

[blurredcolour]

The Hunter's Moon | Part Eight

The Hunter’s Moon Masterlist

Summary: Reunited at last, Austin cannot wait to show you how much he loves you.

Pairing: Werewolf!Austin Butler x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Mention of Traumatic Events, Mention of Gun Violence, Mention of Paparazzi, Supernatural Themes, Language, Mature/Explicit Themes [oral – m/f receiving, manual stimulation – m/f receiving, penetration, unprotected sex] - 18 + Only

Song suggestion:  Messed Up Masterpiece by NEONI

Song suggestion:  Messed Up Masterpiece by NEONI

Word Count: 2112

—☽•✧•◐•✧•◯•✧•◑•✧•☾—

Mid-December

It had all gone horribly wrong and yet still you had stayed. For someone like Austin, who had only known instability, only had the people he loved leave his life, it had been bewildering. A lot to process in addition to the shock of the events in his backyard in October.

Someone so small and fragile, so utterly human, had put themselves between his body and certain death at the hands of a wildly unstable werewolf hunter. Every medical professional he had spoken to about your gunshot wound had emphatically assured him it was best case scenario. But all he had seen was what it had cost you: the pain, the lethargy, the increased need for calories as you healed, the psychological trauma.

And yet again you had stayed, despite all of that. Not only had you stayed, but you had also supported him; essentially forced him back to work. He had called Ross, the man who turned him all those years ago in New Zealand, and offered him a considerable amount of money to watch over you. Yes, Toby was dead, but Chad and Lincoln would be prowling about leaderless, and he could not bear the thought of you being vulnerable to them.

In the end, there had been no threat to you. The Kiwi werewolf had reported back that the two lesser wolves had fled. The mechanic shop now stood empty, for sale by the estate of the late Toby Anderson. It was agony to be apart from you. The scarf had helped, your scent calming him. It had proven essential for the full moons in November and December. Having delayed production while caring for you, there was absolutely no way for him to return home to the protective room.

He had been forced to spend two nights wild in the woods, as far from civilization he could get in an hour’s drive. He had stripped off his clothes and curled up in the undergrowth, head resting on the scarf, anchoring himself in your lingering scent on the wool fibres. There had been mayhem, tiny forest creatures had been demolished, but no major fallout or injuries. This he also attributed to you.

He had been terribly restless during the short flight to Placerville from Los Angeles. The closer he got to you, the shorter his patience became. The confirmation email he received, informing him that your new bike to replace your ruined one had shipped, brought brief distraction but it was not enough. He practically leapt out of the plane once it landed, grabbing his vehicle from long term parking, and driving straight to you. He hardly noticed the softly falling snow, the first of the year, as the delicate white flakes blasted the windshield, driven into the glass by his barely legal speed.

He was pleased to see the media had lost interest for the most part as he turned onto your empty road. He parked beside your car in your driveway having paid no mind to his own home as he drove past it, thinking only of getting to you. As he turned to grab his bag from the back of the SUV, he heard your door open and close, your gasp at the scene the snow painted. With ten long strides he reached you, carefully pulling you close with an arm around your shoulders from the left side as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

“Welcome home…” You giggled warmly, looking up at him deliciously.

“So fucking glad to be here.” He groaned and cradled your jaw, leaning down to kiss you desperately. God, you tasted even better than the last time he had been able to kiss you. He pulled back, chest heaving, looking over your face hungrily.

“Come inside, it’s cold out here…” You stated breathlessly and grabbed his arm, pulling him inside. It smelled good, you had cooked him dinner, but all he could think about was taking you upstairs. And yet…you had been so fragile the last time he had been with you in person. He set down his things, kicking off his shoes, and reluctantly tugging your scarf from his neck as he followed you in. You stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at him.

“Are you wanting dinner or…” You looked towards the heaven he knew to be your bedroom.

“A… are you… can we…” He frowned at his own boyish, tongue-tied approach before sighing. “I am extremely desperate to make love to you but are you medically allowed and able?” He held his breath while awaiting your reply.

The way you bowed your head and looked up at him through your eyelashes, the way the rush of your desire bathed him in your pheromones, had his teeth sinking into his lower lip savagely.

“Yes, Austin…let’s go upstairs…” You managed to say and turned to put your foot onto the first step. He surged forward, scooping you into his arms delicately, one arm around your back under your shoulders and the other under your knees. Holding you to his chest, he bounded up the stairs two at a time, delighting in your noise of shock and ensuing laughter. The fact that you loved every part of him made his heart swell.

He sat you on the edge of the bed, kneeling at your feet, looking up at you reverently before his lips crashed into yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers pulling at the hair at the base of his skull. His chest rumbled in delight as the tiny tugs shivered down his spine, making his cock throb. The long fingers of his hands massaged into the tender flesh of your thighs as he tilted his head to press his lips tighter to yours, tongue licking along the seam of your lips seeking entrance.

The speed at which you parted your lips for him made his head swim, his heart skipping a beat as his tongue met yours. There was something intrinsically sweet about the way you tasted. It mingled with hints of the tea you had been drinking before he arrived, but overall, you tasted like you. It was enough to make a man drunk. He tugged at the clothing on your torso, pulling back from your lips to work at exposing your upper body, tossing the unwanted fabric onto the floor beside him.

His mouth eagerly sought your hard-won skin, savouring the taste of your flesh, saliva painting along the planes of your torso as he worked his way lower. The gasps and whimpers that rained down upon him from your lips were increasing the pressure in the crotch of his already tight jeans. He paused as he reached your right side, sobered by the hollow there, the raised flesh around the entry scar. His fingers slid up to your back, to the larger exit scar there.

“Does…it still hurt?” He looked up to you through his lashes, naked vulnerability shining in his blue irises.

“N... not really… can’t press too hard on it but…” Your voice was thick with arousal and emotion. “They say the scars will fade with time…” Your breath hitched in your throat as he gently pressed his lips to each of the scars in turn, an act of worship.

The tug of your fingers in his hair made him moan, driving him to make quick work of the clothing on the lower half of your body. The heady aroma of your arousal wrapped around him, pulling him in to lay his lips upon the source. He growled hungrily, too overcome with desire to take his time. You sank back into the mattress, arms no longer able to support your upper body under the onslaught. He took possession of your hips with his hands, pulling you forward, closer to his mouth.

“Oh god Austin, your scruff.” You whimpered and his lips curled into a wicked smirk against you. He would not be shaving any time soon.

Your hungry moans had his hips rutting forward, the ounce of friction the movement created in his jeans was not nearly enough, but it would suffice for a time.

He replaced his mouth with his fingers as he looked to your bedside table, tugging open the drawer, his long torse allowing him to lean over and peer in. His eyes quickly found the prize they sought, and he retrieved the bottle of lube you kept there. He quickly coated the fingers of his right hand, the slick tips circling your entrance as he placed his mouth back on the source of your pleasure. The heat of your body was there, at his fingertips, calling out to him. He eased one finger into you, shuddering at the feel of your silken walls snug around his long digit. It was always a miracle how well you took his cock when you started out this tight every time.

He stretched you out with three digits, teasingly rubbing the fingertips up and forward against the spot that always garnered the best reactions. Tonight, you hooked your calves over his shoulders and yanked him forward, driving your heels into his shoulder blades. The filth falling from your lips was making his cock weep and he reached his breaking point. His clothes joined yours on the floor before he climbed over you, pulling you along the coverlet, pivoting your body to guide your head to rest on the pillows.

Teeth clenching to the point of pain, jaw muscles bunching beneath the skin, he slid inside your lurid warmth agonizingly slow. You had been made for him, molded perfectly to the curve of his cock, encasing him so snugly it felt as though he did not have room to breathe inside you.

“Holy fucking Jesus…shit…” His thighs quivered as his pelvis met yours. He almost lost it right then, almost spilled himself inside you like some teenaged boy.

You were patient with him, taking deep shuddering breaths of your own as you adjusted to his intrusion into your body.

“Mmmm Austin…” You mewled and drew his gaze, and his focus.

He rocked his hips against yours, gently at first, drinking in the way you fought to keep your eyes open, your mouth slack in a silent moan. He did it again, applying more pressure and strength to the effort, before sliding his hips back to thrust into you.

The yelp that motion ripped from your lips made his heart stop, his body freeze.

“Fuck! I hurt you…” He did not dare to move a muscle. Not until you told him what was wrong.

“Mn, it’s my side…I can’t be on my back…but I want you so bad…” You pouted in such a delicious way.

He very carefully pulled himself from your warmth, making you both whimper in protest.

“Side or…hands and knees…or on top?” He forced his brain to function, the gears grinding awkwardly a little before they stalled altogether as you rolled onto your hands and knees, holding your ass out toward him. “Holy god…” He groaned raggedly.

Despite his deep-seated, evolutionary instinct to cover your back with his body, on some still-functioning level he recognized that pressure on your scar was the issue. He stayed kneeling behind you, fingers curling into your hips as he sunk into you from behind. Your moans mingled with his own at the new, mouth-watering angle.

He resumed building his rhythm, rocking and thrusting, relieved to hear nothing but eager moans, relieved to feel your hips pressing back against his own each time they met. His hand snaked down between your legs, finding himself precipitously close despite his best efforts, and caressed the source of your pleasure to encourage your release. Your wail, followed by the slick of your orgasm on his fingers, filled his chest with primitive pride and his own release was only a few thrusts behind. He rutted through it, pouring each drop of cum, and seemingly every one of his now liquified bones, into your body before he pulled back carefully and let his knees buckle, falling to the side of your body. He watched through hooded eyes as you stretched forward onto your stomach, head turning to look at him with soft eyes full of love.

His chest heaved as he tried to pull in enough oxygen to soothe the burning of his lungs. That look might very well be the death of him, but it was a death he would have happily accepted. Because you had saved him in so many ways. And he could not wait to spend the rest of his life repaying you for it.

—☽•✧•◐•✧•◯•✧•◑•✧•☾—

The Hunter’s Moon Masterlist

Tag List: @karamelcoveredolicity, @mymamalife, @thatonemoviefan, @bxxbxy, @lumosllwyni, @slowsweetlove, @namoreno, @2lekk

[collectivecloseness]

Road trip with eddie road trip with eddie ROAD TRIP WITH EDDIE IMAGINE, like you're vibing to music in the car or sitting on the roof of it while he plays guitar at night or doing random picnics whenever you see a pretty field, STAR GAZING AND SO MUCH MORE AHHHHHHH

A road trip with Eddie would be something he’s planned for ages. He’s saved up money, thought about things on the cheap, and when you both graduate together, you’re going to get out of this shitty town that hates him, and go on a summer road trip.

Eddie’s van is stacked with all the essentials, as well as pillows and blankets, so you two can sleep there for cheaper. You say goodbye to Wayne for a little while, as well as your family and friends, and all Wayne asks for is a hat for Eddie to bring back, to add to his collection. Mostly though, he asks for you both to stay safe, and for you to keep his boy out of trouble.

His sweetheart is of course along for the ride, he can’t abandon her! Plus, Eddie does think about how he’s going to he playing her for you a lot, on grass, or picnic blankets, or on top of his van. He thinks about bringing his acoustic too, but he needs the space. Plus, maybe someone will hear him playing for you on one romantic evening, and secretly be a talent scout or something! Anything to make a buck, especially on the road with you, and especially to add to the adventure!

Every night, every day, is like a date with Eddie! You two do get a lot of alone time usually, either out in the world, or with Wayne not home, but this is totally different. You have so much freedom! Plus there’s no worries Wayne or your family or any of your friends are gonna walk in while you two thought you were home alone, and doing a workout in the bedroom. Eddie parks pretty discreetly if you two wanna do that, or you may be in a hotel room for the night. He’s not gonna put in any less effort, or be quiet, or subtle, Eddie would never do such a thing, but he also guesses you don’t want some nosy grandma or a police officer snooping around the rocking vehicle either.

The whole year leading up, you’d both marked locations you want to visit. Although Eddie is very fun and adventurous, so he’ll do a detour if in a 7/11 you guys are getting your next meal from, there’s a brochure for somewhere fun just a town away. Why not! Not like you two will ever be back in... oh, Colorado, back in Colorado again!

At least not for the foreseeable future. Eddie saved up a lot, for years for this road trip he always a wanted to have after graduating. So while you two try to be as cheap as possible in some aspects, you don’t have to worry about money if you want to go visit a new place or attraction. Eddie loves the spontaneity! And if he gets an idea in his head, it’s bouncing around until his feet are firmly planted in the intended location. You’re free to do what you want, as young people, in love, out in the world.

Sometimes Eddie will want to take you on a date, on what he’s already affectionately entitled ‘the worlds longest date.’ So if you haven’t passed anywhere super fun for a while, he’ll take you to a diner for a full meal, milkshakes and desert, instead of snacks from a gas station, a hot dog vender, or sharing a burger from McDonald’s. He always wants to keep things new and exciting. And when you two are fed up with junk food, it’s time for a picnic, filled with so many fruits, and cheese, and wine Eddie convinced the cashier to sell in 80’s America. He even leaves a chocolate bar on his dashboard right, under the windshield for a while, to melt it, so he can try and make a little dip for chocolate covered strawberries for you. The man never stops trying for you.

Eddie wants to visit every state he can in his van, that he made sure was perfectly healthy before setting off into the sunset with you. Obviously places like Alaska and Hawaii aren’t exactly on the table, but for years, and especially in recent years, this hasn’t just been a road trip. It’s not just been a celebration. Or a milestone in his young adult life. And you know it. Eddie’s trying to find if there’s a spot for him in this country, that really sings out to him. Somewhere he could escape Hawkins too.

And with you knowing that, Eddie really dives into your opinion too. After all, even if you wanted to move to his least favourite, most boring, most cookie cutter hell on earth place, Eddie would always follow you to hell and back, because all Eddie wants most, is to be with you. So no matter what, Eddie will follow you anywhere. Because these states aren’t his future, his travels and new experiences aren’t, you are his future. And now he’s finally graduated with you, and had a summer just dedicated to being a fun young perosn in love, travelling around without a care, he can’t wait to somewhat settle down with you. In a place where you both belong, together.

[gaytotaldrama]

gwens nonbinary crisis

hi i'm sorry this is so late! i've been pretty sick this week and then i started writing this and lost all my progress when my computer crashed </3 hope u enjoy

also on my ao3!

When they were dating, Duncan used to call Gwen my girl. She'd let him do it without complaint, resolutely ignoring the feeling that he only used it as it was a less exciting alternative to Princess. Gwen's never been much of one of those, so it's not like the nickname would have worked for her in the first place at all - but she never loved my girl, either.

Trent had called her babe, which was basic and cliché and, overall, more welcome. Maybe a part of Gwen had always wanted, loath as she was to admit it, for a boy to smile and tell her she drove him crazy. It would have been direct. A sign she really wasn't on her own any longer. But now, even though Total Drama is done and Duncan's in jail and Gwen is finished with it all - she still feels off-kilter. Unbalanced. Wrong.

She's not part of her cousin's wedding party. She and Stella have never quite gotten along the best out of everyone in the Kaczmarek extended family. Stella was Prom Queen; Gwen stayed home. Stella led the volleyball team; Gwen stayed in the shadows. Stella, the perfect movie star looker that she was, never got famous; Gwen did, and wishes she hadn't.

She'd love to skip out on the wedding entirely, but that would be sure to prove more trouble than it would be worth, having her whole family all pissed at her. So Gwen resigns herself to going, rents an AirBnB on the North Carolina coast just a few miles from the beach where the wedding will be held. The beach - Gwen would rather Stella be marrying this weirdo boot Marine guy in your stereotypical Christian chapel, as long as it meant Gwen wouldn't get sand blown in her eyes and spend an hour trying to forget the crackle of Trent's voice on the walkie, inside the small glass box.

But, she supposes, only slightly scornfully, it isn't her wedding.

The ceremony itself goes fine. In all honesty, she doesn't pay it much attention. When the newlyweds kiss, she claps. When the party begins to relocate to the reception hall, Gwen quietly migrates with them. She's already been made to talk about Total Drama to about fifty odd relatives, their reactions ranging from genuinely interested to sniffily labeling Gwen as a slut. At the afterparty, she drinks heavily and wakes up back in her AirBnB the next morning, head splitting in two and left wondering which poor bastard took it upon themself to see her safely home.

Her flight's in a few hours. Time to get the hell out of dodge, get the hell out of the States, go back home to her studio full of paint splatters and sketchbooks full of old dreams. Instead, on a whim, she extends her time with the rental car. Intent on finding someplace where she can just have a moment of her own time to think and breathe, Gwen heads to the west, unsure exactly of where it is she's going. When she sees the rolling Appalachians through her windshield, she might gain some semblance of an idea.

No food, no firewood. Not even so much as a sleeping bag, but still Gwen rents the cabin. She can worry about the essentials later; right now, she's too busy gazing off the mountain into the valley of gold below. 

The air smells fresh. A strange, secret part of her finds familiarity in the cabin and its wilderness furniture. She sits out on the front porch, feels the crisp autumn air nip at the tips of her ears, her nose. The dead leaves rustle softly against each other in the breeze. Somewhere, not too far off, a stream babbles.

Gwen should visit Duncan in jail. Gwen should shoot Trent a quick text, or something, see how the guy is holding up. She should check in with Courtney, too, while she's at it. Make sure she's all right.

Instead, Gwen simply breathes. In and out, in and out. Centers herself. Closes her eyes. Thinks.

After opening them to drink their fill of southern sunset, Gwen's fairly certain they've got the inklings of an idea about something important beginning to blossom in their mind.