#Hopefully no one can hear through windshields

[internetbanality]

I am this 🤏 close to finally finishing Dark Heir and I am also this 🤏 close to losing my collective shit

When I do reblog, I will use #dark heir spoilers

[bettyfrommars]

Betty baby

how about a little one shot with Eddie and reader hooking up in readers car after a date 🥵

Ziggy my love, anything for you.

I did a lil twist on your request. I've been gone for a bit and this was the first thing I wrote when I got home yesterday, thank you for the much needed inspiration 🥹

Waste Away With Me

Eddie x older!fem!Reader

18+ONLY, smut, age gap, Eddie is in his early 20's and reader is in her early 30's, mutual pining, adoring!eddie, secret crush, friends to lovers, car sex, fingering, mutual masturbation, finger sucking, reader wears a skirt, well-timed but unfortunate Jimmy Buffet lyrics, reader is lonely and thinks she'll never find love. wc: 3.5k

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Eddie hadn’t meant to wait up for you to get back from a date with another guy like some lovesick dork, but it happened anyway.  

He was sitting on the couch in his trailer when he saw the headlights sift through the curtains and heard the gravel crunch under the wheels of your approach, settling in between your trailer and his.  

He tapped his cigarette into the full ashtray and looked at the clock; his heart fluttered in his chest, grateful that you were back earlier than expected.  Either the movie part of the dinner date had been skipped, or there had been little to no hanky-panky afterwards, and this fed into the delusion that he still had a chance with you.  

He waited impatiently to hear the clank of the heavy, metal door to your Buick LeSabre open and slam shut, hoping to hell you’d hadn’t brought this new guy home with you.  He could handle the thought of you going on a date with someone—barely—-but the possibility of you inviting someone back to your bed, or you getting serious about some other dude was too gut wrenching to bear.  

Don, your date’s name was Don, and when you’d told Eddie that he’d asked you out, Eddie wanted to show up at the fabrication shop where he found out Don worked and set his hair on fire.  

If the guy even had hair.  

You were maybe a decade older than Eddie, and Don was pushing 40, so maybe he was balding and hopefully you preferred long, shaggy hair and bangs that desperately needed a trim.  

What if Don made you laugh? The thought made Eddie scowl.  What if those adorable lines around your mouth made their appearance and you snorted a little bit all because of stupid Don? Eddie shot to his feet and went to the window.  

A good 10 minutes had passed, and he hadn’t heard you get out of your car, so he decided to take a peek through the side of the curtains.  What if Don was in the car with you, what then? What if he was kissing you? 

His stomach in knots, Eddie had to know, either way.

He experienced relief to find that you were, indeed, alone, but something else was wrong.  

Your hands were covering your face and your shoulders bobbed.  Your hands fell to your lap long enough for Eddie to see through the windshield that your mascara was running down your cheeks and your skin was wet with tears.

You fumbled with the single, pathetic, balled up tissue in your hands, as you sobbed.  The sobbing subsided for a few sniffles before there was another hitch in your chest and a whimper made you bury your face in your palms again.

But then a knuckle tap on your window made you jump.

Bent forward, with his face level to yours, Eddie was at the passenger side door, holding his hand up in greeting, lips folded in over his teeth into a pensive line.  As an answer to his silent ask, you moved your purse off the seat so that he could get in.  

You inhaled the warm, familiar scent of his Old Spice, nicotine, and leather.  There was an extra note of cologne on him that evening, as if he’d just sprayed something on before he came out.  

He saw you struggling to wipe your nose with that threadbare Kleenex and handed over the handkerchief from his back pocket.  

You held it out in front of you with pause, as if you were considering something.

“You can blow your nose on it, I don’t mind,” he said.  “In fact, it would be an honor.”

That elicited a snort-chuckle from you, and you did not blow your nose with it, but you did wipe snot off your lips and chin with a sad snarf.  

The inside of the car was dark, but for the yellow glow from the radio as Hold Me Now by the Thompson Twins played.  Eddie saw the familiar end of a cassette tape sticking out of the stereo as if it had just been ejected.  

“So, the mixtape I made for you was that bad, huh? Too many ballads?” As if to suggest  that his horrible taste was what made you bawl your eyes out.  

You let your head fall back against the seat.  “No, I love it,” you said, dry throat making your voice crack.  “It’s the only thing I’ve been listening to all week.”

“Really?” He said it too fast, he was too excited. When he gave it to you, he said it was “no big deal” and he’d been making them for all of his friends, but that was a big fat lie.  He’d spent weeks planning out which songs to add to it, and in what order they should go in, so that it all flowed and told a story.  

A story about a next door neighbor with a serious crush.  

You pushed the tape all the way in until it clicked and Send Me an Angel by Scorpions softly lit up the speakers.

One of Eddie’s favorite things about you was that you were normally just as chatty and weird as he was.  A couple times a week, he’d come up on your porch for a beer, or go inside to share a joint, and the two of you would talk passionately for hours about some real oddball shit.  You were excitable and goofy, just like him, and you’d recently confessed that you hadn’t felt this comfortable with someone in a very long time.  

He overheard you telling one of your friends the other day that he was “like a brother” to you, and nothing could’ve smashed his heart or his hopes harder.  Being referred to as a family member is sweet, but also suggests that you’ve entered strictly friendzone territory.  

“Doooo you want to talk about it?” He stammered, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket.  He’d be happy to just sit there and listen to music so you wouldn’t feel alone, if that is what you needed.  

“Not really,” you said in a small voice.  “I’m just never going on another date for the rest of my life, that’s all.”  

Eddie sat up and turned his whole body towards you, leather jacket squeaking on the seat, and made a fist on his knee.  “He didn’t…hurt you or anything, did he? If that Don guy said or did anything to make you upset I swear to god I will—”

“No, no, nothing like that,” you met Eddie’s gaze and were a bit taken aback at the intensity you found there.  “He was just so…boring, and we had nothing in common, and I felt so alone.”

Eddie sat back and swallowed.  A part of him wanted to kick up his heels and do a jig when you called Don boring, but the other part of him hurt to see you so sad.  

You sniffed and wiped under your eyes with his handkerchief.  “I’m the only one of my friends who’s still single, and I think I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that I’m going to waste away in this trailer park and die alone.”

Eddie cocked his head, adding the touch of a smirk to his lips. “We can waste away together, here in Margaritaville.”

“You did not just quote Jimmy Buffet.”

“Oh, yes.  Yes, I did,” he bit his lip to hold back a smile. “Have you seen my lost shaker of salt, by chance?”

You stared down at your lap, indulging in a laugh or two before your expression turned somber again, forehead creasing.  “Why does everything have to be so hard? I thought finding true love was supposed to be easy, or at least easier than this nightmare of a reality I’m living in.”

“This is easy. We make sense,” is what Eddie wanted to say, but he choked and adjusted his feet on the floorboard instead.

You groaned and put your head back again, closing your eyes.  “I’ve been feeling so lonely lately, Eddie, like maybe I am the problem and I’m just unlovable.”

“Now that is crazy,” Eddie shifted closer, taking hold of your forearm to give it a squeeze.  He searched your profile, eyes landing on your parted lips.  “You’re so easy to love. I love—-”

My god, he really almost said it, out loud.

You turned  your head and opened  your eyes, waiting for him to finish.  

“...this song,” he recovered, turning the volume up a single notch. “I love this song.”  

It was Tangerine by Led Zeppelin.  

You closed your eyes again, feeling another tear building at the rim of your lashes.  

“But really,” he continued, shifting the volume down again.  “I mean, I get it, “he huffed air out of his nose and moved his hands around as he talked.  “Even when I’m with a bunch of people I still feel alone sometimes.  Like I’m the only person in the world who feels the way I do.”

“Yeah,” you gave a big sigh.  “Something like that.”

Another problem was that suddenly, almost overnight, you had developed feelings for your young, metalhead neighbor.  You pushed them down as much as you could and forced yourself to go on this date with Don to try and distract yourself from having sexual thoughts about a guy that was ten years your junior.  What would your friends think? A few of your friends were snobs, anyway, and expected you to marry a doctor, or at least an accountant; some stable man who could give you the picket fence dream.

But that was their dream, not yours.  

Besides that, Eddie had plenty of love interests.  You hadn’t seen him bring a date back to his trailer in months, but you’d been to one of his Corroded Coffin shows, and you saw the way the extremely cute college and high school girls looked at him.  

Eddie wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans.  “I know I don’t have to tell you how beautiful and smart and amazing you are.  I mean, I’m sure you already know that.”

“Do I?” You asked, earnestly.  “Do I already know it?”

“Well,” his eyes shifted, not sure where to land.  “You should, I mean, none of the women in this town could ever hold a candle to you.”

Yikes.

Speaking of candles, was he blowing it?  The way things were going, it was only a matter of seconds before he admitted to jerking off to thoughts of you every time he got in the shower.  

You were both facing each other with your temples on the headrests.  “It means a lot to me,” you couldn’t meet his eyes, so you stared at his adam’s apple.  “That  you think I’m beautiful and amazing.”

“I should tell you more often, then,” Eddie said softly, his heart racing.  “Because I mean it.”

You looked down at your lap and the way you were absently picking at the ends of his handkerchief.  “I wish I’d met someone like you when I was your age.”

The statement confused him a bit and he squinted. “Someone…like me?”

“Oh, you know,” you cleared your throat. “Someone I have a lot in common with, someone who makes me laugh,” you trailed off.  “Someone I’m really attracted to.”

Eddie froze.

No one moved or said anything for a full minute.

“You’re attracted to me?” His voice trembled.  

“Isn’t it obvious?” You gave a sharp, self-deprecating laugh. “Sometimes I’m sure the entire trailer park knows, and they're all judging me.”

The revelation made a little squeaky sound escape his throat.  “But you said I was like a brother to you?”

You gave a confused smile for a split second, wondering where he might’ve heard such a thing, and then recognition dawned.  “Oh, well I told my friend Judy that because I talk about you so much, I didn’t want her to think that…that you and I were…or that I was…”

“That you and I were what?”  Eddie’s ears were ringing, all kinds of hope bubbling in his chest.

You got quiet again, wondering how far you wanted to take this conversation.  

“Listen,” Eddie shifted to look at you with flushed cheeks.  “I might be reading all of these signals wrong, but I want to kiss you so bad right now, it’s fucking killing me–”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

And then you dove for each other and had a meeting of mouths that was all teeth and wrestling tongues.  Your seatbelt jerked you back, and you pulled away from him only to unbuckle it and throw it from your lap with a metal thump.  

You’d never experienced this before; it was less like being kissed and more like being devoured, all feverish sucks and nibbles and eager moans.  He held your face in his hands as you began to climb up and over to him.  “If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up,” he hushed against your lips.

The seats in your ‘68 Buick were spacious, and once your knees were straddled on either side of him, you cupped your hands around his throat and said, “touch me Eddie.”

Eddie’s hands stopped in the air, unsure of where to go, but then intuition had him put them on the bare skin of your thighs under your skirt and move them up your panty line.  He brought a thumb down and passed it over the material, “you want me to touch you, like this?” As he said it, he found the top of your slit through your underwear and began pressing small circles there.

“Yesyesyes,” you pulled off of him just enough to meet his eyes.  His cock twitched at the way you bucked your hips in his lap, eager for his touch.  

“I love it when you look at me like that,” he breathed.

“Like what?” You slotted the side of your nose against his and brushed your lips together.

“Like I make you happy,” he punctuated it by dragging his thumb up and down in that concentrated area.  

You threw your head back, exposing your throat for him to lick a stripe up, sucking some skin in softly to nibble.

You were fully grinding on him as you found his mouth again with yours.  “I want…to make…you…happy…too,” you said between hot kisses.

His thumb smoothed down low enough to feel how much of your arousal had soaked through. “Honestly, sweetheart? I could die right now and be the happiest man alive.”

You could feel his cock grow thick and stiff in his denim as you rode him, and one of your hands went down there to fumble at the button and zipper on his jeans.

“I want to touch you,” your pussy actually rippled like a jellyfish climbing in the sea at the idea of having him inside of you. Once your thumb met with his leaky tip, you circled the head and Eddie groaned.

“Sit back for me,” he whispered.  With his thumb still working your clit, you let your back rest on the glovebox and watched him pull his impressive length out.  He kept his eyes on you, giving it a few short jerks while flicking his tongue out to wet his lips.

From that vantage, with your skirt up around your waist, he could see how damp the light purple of your panties were, and more milky liquid appeared at his tip.  You pulled down the straps of your dress and released your breasts from the cups of your bra.

“Oh my godddd,” Eddie’s thumb worked faster on you, trying not to stroke his cock the way he wanted to because he was about to cum.  “You’re so sexy, holy shit.”

You pushed off the dash and came closer, needing to be close to him.  With your arms around his neck, Eddie’s fingers bypassed the cotton barrier and sank into your slick honey pot with a hiss and a curse.  First one finger, and then two, and you reached down between the two of you to stroke him, making you both exchange moans of pleasure.

“Wait wait,” Eddie halted, continuing to thumb your spot. “I’m gonna cum like, right now.”

“That’s okay,” your hand stilled, but you bobbed up and down so that his fingers were fucking you.

“I can’t,” he gulped, breathlessly resting his forehead on yours. “Not before you.”

The thing about Eddie was that he could get hard again really fast for a second and third time, at least that’s how it was when he masturbated, but he wasn’t sure how to tell you that.  

You shifted back against the glove box again, pulling your underwear to the side so that he could watch his fingers go in and out of you.  You guided his hand out and brought his dripping fingers to your mouth to suck on them, loving the way his callouses felt on your tongue.

Eddie's eyes were locked on the action, muttering, “ohmygodohfuck.”

“Let’s do it together,” you breathed, biting your lip.  You brought your own fingers to your slit and began the same circles Eddie had done, speeding them up.  Eddie dipped his fingers inside of you again, scissoring them, picking up as much of your gift as he could before bringing them out in a mess to wet his cock with it. Your mouth fell open, watching his length glisten as he stroked it, never breaking eye contact with you.  

His gaze dipped to your breasts briefly to watch you twist your hard nipple between thumb and forefinger, whimpering as your other hand moved faster.  “Eddie..Eddie! See what you do to me?”

“Ahhhh,” Eddie held his thumb on his tip, right on the verge, and buried two fingers from his other hand inside you again.  Your tight walls fluttered, clenching him, and the look on your face as you got close was too much for him to handle.

“This is—-oh fuck I’m cumming,” he gasped.

“Cum on me, cum all over me,” you begged, just in time for him  to aim the joystick in your general direction, pumping hot white ropes onto your hand and cunt.

You watched him milking it as he twitched, and you rubbed his spend down your folds.  You held his wrist to keep his fingers inside of you, and then your eyes were rolling back as your release exploded.  

In the aftermath, the two of you took a minute to catch your breath.  There was cum and saliva everywhere and neither one of you seemed bothered.

“This is the best part,” Eddie mumbled, taking his fingers out to suck the result of your orgasm off of them.  

“Shit,” you lifted your head and looked around with a giggle.  “We fogged all the windows up.”

“Good,” he clutched  your waist to shift you and pull you closer.  “That way no one can see us.”

Your car was blocked between the two trailers, but being seen by someone out walking their dog at night was always a risk.  A risk that did not seem to have an ounce of importance at the moment.  

You put your forehead to his and smoothed your thumbs over his cheeks, rocking so that the drips from your cookie box landed on his exposed length.  “What I meant to say earlier is that I have this big, stupid crush on you, Eddie Munson.”

Eddie adjusted your skirt so that you were properly covered, and pulled you flush to him so that no one could get a cheap look at his girl's gorgeous tits.  

His girl.

He wasn’t sure if you knew it yet, but you had his heart, and you could do whatever you wanted with it.  

You ducked your head down to rest it on his shoulder and his hand cupped the back of your neck.  “I’ve been wanting to ask if I could maybe take you on a date sometime?”

He was serious, but the timing made you laugh.

Eddie always made you laugh.

“I’m never going on another date ever again, remember?” The side of your mouth pressed into his shoulder and you wiggled closer to him. A part of you wondered if you were squishing him, like maybe his legs were asleep, but his hold on you was unrelenting.  

“Oh damn, that’s right,” his other hand rubbed up and down your back. “I missed my window of opportunity thanks to Don.”

“I guess we’re stuck with more of whatever this was,” you murmured.

“Poor us,” Eddie smirked.  “We might have to do more of this again in a few minutes.”

“If we have to.”

“Hey,” he nudged you so that you lifted up to meet his dark, searching eyes. “Kiss me if you’re mine.”

You were both smiling as your lips met, and it wasn’t long before you led him by his hand into your trailer while he hummed the chorus to Margaritaville.  

[scoops-stevie-archive]

this was written for @thefreakandthehair's spicy six spring fanworks challenge, for the prompt, "come lie down with me, i'll read it to you"! thank you so much for letting me participate, lex!

April showers bring May flowers, but March comes in like a lion. Winds up to fifty miles an hour with rain and thunderstorms following close behind. Most people would hunker down with preparations to ride it out for however long the weatherman on TV decides, but most people haven't fought an inter-dimensional war for four years in a row and don't equate the rain pelting down on the roof to the sound of beating bat wings, or the violent winds to their devilish screeching. They get pushed around in a gust and don't think about being pinned down and feasted upon by razor sharp teeth.

Most people aren't Steve Harrington.

Unsurprisingly, Family Video stays open during one of these storms. Also unsurprisingly, they haven’t had a single customer since they opened that morning. Steve watches from behind the counter as it rains sideways across the parking lot. The trees are bending in ways that make him nervous and he's imagined a branch snapping off and going through his car one too many times. He taps an erratic rhythm on the counter, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes locked forward.

"If it gets any worse, we're closing early," Robin says from somewhere in the rows of tapes, probably sprawled across the floor. "It's supposed to go on until tomorrow afternoon, and I'm not risking being stranded here."

Steve would argue that it’s already worse, but a particularly harsh gale that sounds like a moaning monster from a D&D session makes his blood freeze in his veins. He nods, his jaw clenched. “Agreed.”

Worse comes when the power starts flickering. It was just once and for barely a second but it was enough for Steve and Robin to shut all the computers and lights off and make a beeline for the breakroom. He's already made his check-in calls with the Party; they're all safe and sound at home with promises to not step foot outside until this all passes.

“Be careful, alright?” Robin says when Steve drops her off at home. The wind is whipping her hair around her face and she’s struggling to hold the door open with the force of it. He waits until she’s safely inside before he pulls away.

There was a lull in the rain during the drive, but now it’s back with a vengeance. His wipers are barely doing anything and he can’t even see five feet in front of him. He pulls over somewhere on the side of the road to wait until it hopefully dies down. There’s thunder in the distance now, and all Steve can think of is Kate fucking Bush and Max lying comatose in a hospital bed. He watches the rain cascade in waves down the windshield and suddenly he’s back on the roof of Starcourt, his Members Only jacket doing absolutely fuck-all to keep him dry in the downpour.

Steve grips the steering wheel and can barely hear the next clap of thunder over the gust of wind that's shaking the car, or the blood rushing through his ears, his head filled with screams – his, Robin's, Dustin's, Eddie's–

Eddie.

Blind panic blooms in his chest and it takes a few tries to get the car started because of how bad his hands are shaking. Finally, the ignition turns and he's speeding off. He doesn't bother to follow traffic laws.

Gotta get to Eddie. Gotta get there before the bats do, he and Dustin can't hold them off on their own, shouldn't have left them behind–

Steve doesn’t remember haphazardly parking the car next to Eddie's van, or throwing the front door open with a strangled shout of his boyfriend’s name.

"Eddie!"

There's a thump coming from the back bedroom and Eddie comes tripping over his own feet in his rush to get to him. Steve wants to cry at the sight of him, but instead his breath gets caught in his throat with another wave of panic as his vision blurs and all he can see is Eddie’s bloodied smile as Nancy desperately tries to stop the bleeding from his torso.

Eddie takes a cautious step forward. "Baby?" His hands are lifted in front of him as if Steve is a frightened animal.

"You - you're-" Steve tries to get out but making words feels like gargling pebbles, deep down in his throat. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, shaking along with the rest of him.

"Where are you right now, Stevie?" Eddie asks gently. He doesn't touch him but he's close enough now that he could.

Steve shakes his head. "I-I don't -" He swallows. "The bats - had to come back, couldn't leave you and Dustin-"

"Can I touch you?"

Steve nods.

Eddie doesn’t pull him in immediately. He curls a steady hand around the knob of his shoulder, his thumb rubbing his collarbone in soothing circles. His other hand goes to his right elbow and then he slowly drags him to his chest in a bear hug. Steve goes limp like a rag doll and lets Eddie hold him tight.

"There we go," Eddie whispers into his hair, arms wrapped around his shoulders and waist. Steve pants raggedly against his neck. “Shh, I gotcha, sweetheart.” Fingers slide up the back of his neck and thread through his hair, gently tugging and scratching at his scalp in a way that makes Steve shiver and press closer. His own hands come up and grab fistfuls of the back of Eddie’s shirt. Eddie kisses his temple. “You don’t have to tell me what made you freak out if you don’t want to, but I don’t think you want the neighbors seein’ you like this.”

Slowly, without pulling away, Eddie kicks the front door shut and walks them back to his room where he undresses Steve slowly and methodically, not like he usually would when he’s trying to get his boy out of his clothes, and replaces them with a worn t-shirt and sweatpants. Steve buries his nose in the collar of the shirt and breathes in the scene of home. There’s a tiredness always present after a panic attack that leaves him weary and aching all the way down to his bones. He kicks his jeans to the side and sends a paperback with them. It isn’t one he’s seen Eddie read before; the dragon on the green cover and the yellow letters are enough to draw Steve’s attention and he flips through the pages after reading the summary on the back.

“Come lie down with me,” Eddie says with a gentle hand on Steve’s hip, “I’ll read it to you.”

Eddie shuffles him toward the bed and Steve all but falls onto the mattress, burying his face in the pillow on Eddie’s side of the bed (because he’s slept here enough times that they have respective sides, now) and inhaling the intoxicating smell that’s pure Eddie – cigarette smoke and the strawberry shampoo he uses. He’s maneuvered until he’s tucked into his boyfriend’s side.

The storm is all but forgotten outside. He can’t hear the harsh winds or the rain pounding on the trailer’s tin roof. Eddie’s bedroom is a bubble of safety and love and warmth. Steve has no nightmares in this place. Here, all he knows is adept fingers running through his hair and the way he slowly starts to drift off at the soothing sound of Eddie’s voice rumbling in his ear as he reads to him, picking up where he left off.

“The Librarian slept on, lulled by the whispering of the rain…”

[skz317cb97]

Roadside Assistance

Bang Chan x Female reader

Word count: 2k

Synopsis: Your car trouble is more trouble than you thought and your boyfriend Chan saves the day.

A/N: 18+ ONLY! A special treat for a special friend that you all can hopefully enjoy as well! If you do please reblog, like, comment, shoot me an ask. I love the feedback you guys give! Warnings below the cut.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI! Cursing and strong language, harassment/unwanted touching/advances. I think that's all but if I missed something please let me know and I'll add it asap!

A rain drop hit your windshield. Another. Then another. Suddenly the sky opened up and it started pouring down rain. ‘Just great’ you thought to yourself. The trip back to your parents had been a bust ending in an argument and you were just ready to be home with your boyfriend, Chan. This rain would delay you by at least thirty minutes.  

Then there was a clank... no more of a clunk... no more of a... it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that one of your tires almost flew off and now instead of driving through the rain you were stranded in it. You had gotten soaked when you got out to see what was wrong with the car and now you were ready to cry. You called Chan. 

“Hey baby girl!” He was excited to hear from you. You’d been gone all weekend and he’d missed you. 

“Channie?” Your voice quivered. 

“What’s wrong?!” He was worried immediately. You sniffled holding back your tears. 

“The tire on the car is fucked. Changing it won’t even fix it. It’s raining and I’m soaked, I'm close to home but not that close, I just want to be home with you! What do I do Channie!?” You could no longer hold it back and started crying. 

“Aww baby baby, shhh don’t cry, it’s gonna be okay.” You sniffled again trying to regain composure. 

“I want you to hang up with me and call roadside assistance, the number should be on the back of the insurance card we keep in the glove box. Call them and they’ll send out a tow truck. Okay? Then call me back and let me know what they say.”  

“Okay jagi, I’ll call them and call right back. I love you.”  

“I love you too baby girl.” You hung up with Chan to call roadside assistance. The lady on the phone was so helpful and did a good job at getting you calmed the rest of the way down. She told you that there was a driver close but it still might take him a bit since you were out in the country. Once she had all the information she needed you hung up and called Chan back to tell him what she’d told you.  

One hour. The lady had told you that it should take no more than one hour for the tow truck driver to arrive. Two hours later when he finally pulled up you tried your best not to be irritated. This man didn’t have it any better than you, here he was to hook your car up in the pouring rain and tow you home. The man jumped out of his truck. He was plump and looked in need of a shower or two but was there to help you so you were grateful. He walked up to your window. 

“Leave your keys and let's get you in my truck.” 

“Thank you so much sir.” He nodded smiling at you and something about it was a little unsettling. You got out and ran in the rain to the passenger side of his tow truck. You opened the door, grabbed the inside handle, and went to pull yourself up into the tall truck. Suddenly you felt a hand on your rear pushing you up into the truck. 

“There you go baby girl.” You cringed hearing the man call you what your boyfriend usually called you. 

“My name is y/n and I had it but thank you.” He shut the door and you sat there for about ten minutes while he hooked up your car to his tow truck. When he got into the truck again he was soaked but seemed in good spirits considering he looked like a wet sheep dog and smelled like one.  

“Let’s go!” He started the truck, threw it in gear and you were on your way home again. Thank god. You were thankful for that for about five whole minutes. That was until the man started to talk to you. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you traveling alone for? Don’t you have a man to look after you beautiful?” You scrunched your face. 

“I have a boyfriend but I don’t need looking after, I’m grown.” He smirked and looked you up and down. 

“Yea you are. Why don’t you scoot a little closer and get warm.” You miraculously managed to not puke in your mouth. 

“Even if I hadn’t just told you I have a boyfriend, I would rather not.” The man glared over at you.  

“Keep in mind you have a two hour ride with me and it can be pleasant or unpleasant. Depends on you baby girl.” Ugh it made your skin crawl when he called you that and what exactly did he mean by that? You were uncomfortable before you were getting scared now. You pressed the call button on your phone, luckily Chan was the last person you had talked to so it dialed his number. When Chan answered he was confused as to why you weren’t replying to him and then figured you had pocket dialed him. He was just about to hang up when the tow truck driver started talking again. 

“Come on then, get closer gorgeous.” Your voice was a little shaky. 

“You’re making me uncomfortable. I’ve told you I have a boyfriend and that I don’t want to. Please drop it.” He scoffed and Chan saw red. Who the hell did this guy think he was? The man’s hand slid over the seat and onto your knee. You batted it away quickly. 

“Don’t touch me!” He sighed irritated. 

“Don’t be such a fridged bitch.” The man focused on driving again but from time to time continued to try and get you to move closer, which you did not. Chan who was still listening in was ready to knock the guy’s teeth out hearing the way he spoke to you. 

The more you insisted on not doing what he asked the more irritated and irate he became. His temper was getting shorter and you were really starting to get scared.  

“Maybe I don’t take no for an answer, hmm?” That was that. You decided you had to get away from him. You’d rather be stranded in the rain than stay another moment in the cab of that tow truck with that disgusting man. You came up to a flashing red stop light with different crop fields on each side and the one on your side of the truck had tall stalks that would be easy to hide in. 

As soon as the truck came to a stop you quickly jumped out and ran into the field. When you lept from the truck your phone fell into a puddle on the side of the road cutting off Chan’s call. You considered stopping and grabbing it but it was done for, so you just ran. You could hear the man shout after you but you weren’t stopping.  

You ran into the field cutting across and turning this way and that way so that if the driver was following you, it would be difficult to keep up. It was still pouring down rain still and before long you realized you were safe but lost. It took you quite a while to find your way out of the field towards the roads again. When you finally did you started to walk the direction you thought the closest town was in. You’d knock on someone’s door and ask for help. You’d call Chan and he’d come get you. That’s all you wanted was Chan. 

It felt like you had been walking down that road in the rain forever without seeing one house. Didn’t people live on these farms? Then you saw the first set of head lights you had seen since you’d gotten back on the road. It was a truck and you started to worry that it was the tow truck again, that he’d found you. The closer it got the more panicked you were until the lights flashed on you and the truck pulled to the side of the road. 

“Fuck baby girl! Jesus Christ are you okay?” It was Chan jumping down from his truck. He rean to you and kissed you cupping your face. He’d left the house when you had called the very first time. Then when you kept him on the line until it cut off he started driving up and down every road looking for you. He wrapped his arms around you. Warmth always radiated off of Chan and you had never been more thankful for that than you were now. You were freezing. 

“I-I'm o-okay j-just ccc-cold.” You were shivering. Chan hurried you over to the truck and helped you in before climbing back in himself. He blasted the heat and you slid over on the seat closer to him to steal more of his body heat. Chan wrapped his arm around your shoulder and squeezed.  

“I was so worried when your call cut off.” He kissed the side of your head. 

“Oh I jumped out of his truck and dropped my phone in a puddle. I left it behind, I’m sorry.” You shivered and he rubbed your arm up and down trying to warm you more. 

“It’s okay baby girl. We’ll get your old phone turned back on until we can get you a new one. We’ll also call roadside assistance and file a complaint on that man. I’m sure he’ll still drop your car off at the mechanic’s as planned. I’ll check tomorrow so don’t worry about any of that. I’m just glad that I found you and you’re okay.” You nuzzled in close and before long dozed on Chan’s shoulder. He allowed you to sleep like that. You had a two and a half hour drive ahead of you. You slept on and off with Chan’s arm around you but finally curled up on your side of the truck cab and fell into a deep sleep.  

“Y/n, baby? Wake up we’re home...” You felt a warm hand rubbing your back. You groaned and stretched. You went to move and your legs cramped from all the walking you’d done. You whined. 

“I can’t Channie. My legs hurt.” He helped you down out of the truck and then gave you a piggy back ride into the house, he made you laugh with his ridiculous airplane noises. 

“Okay bath and then bed.” Chan set you down on the counter in the bathroom and started to run you a hot bath not only to warm you but to soothe your sore legs as well. When it was ready Chan gave you some privacy and let you undress and bathe. After a while he knocked and you called for him to come in. 

“Need me to get your back?” You laughed. 

“Will you?” He knelt down and grabbed your soapy loofa from you and started rubbing it across your back. You sighed and closed your eyes feeling even more relaxed now that you were home and warm and with Chan. You lifted your head after a minute. 

“I’ll rinse off and be in for bed.” Chan handed your loofa back to you and kissed the top of your head.  

“Love you.” You smiled sleepy. 

“Love you Channie.” Chan went to get ready for bed and you stood up and showered off all the soap and grime from your bath. Once you were all clean you got out and wrapped a towel around your body and one around your hair. You walked into your bedroom and Chan was already in bed, leaning against the head board under the blanket waiting for you. You quickly threw on one of his big t-shirts dried your hair a bit more and finally crawled into bed with your boyfriend. He pulled you close, his arms wrapped around you. You felt safe and warm. You were in your happy place. Chan’s embrace. 

“I love you Chan.” He squeezed you and kissed your forehead. 

“I love you too.” 

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[oumaheroes]

Hi so I’ve seen you answering some asks and I thought I’d send one myself. I know you don’t do much of soft Arthur and Alfred but if you could that would make my day. Maybe something with a delirious!Al and comforting!dad!Artie? I just need like a tender moment between those two, where they’re not fighting.

Thank you so much 😘😘

ALRIGHT.

You've all been asking for long enough- here's the start of a multipart mini story that has taken me longer than I'd care to admit to get going (three almost full attempts, to be exact)

Characters: England, America

-------

Wreckage: Part 1

The smoke was metallic: sharpened acid and modern warfare.

‘Hello!’

England pulled at the wreckage, bare hands flinching at the searing pain of handling too-hot metal. He wished he’d worn his leather gloves, wished he had thought to put them on a mere few minutes ago when the crunching whirr of broken engines and crashing trees had woken him, but they lay useless and forgotten back at his campsite.

‘Can you hear me! Allô! Pouvez-vous m’entendre!’

The plane wore allied colours. It was a British make but that didn’t mean anything these days- the pilot could belong to any of the allied official or resistance groups. All England knew was that there was to be a drop coming, they were in the middle of nowhere, and that it all had apparently gone horribly, horribly wrong.

‘English! French! Polish! Czy ktoś mnie słyszy- is anyone alive in there!’

The door to the craft was stuck shut, parts of the top hinges warped and buckled from impact. He gave up on opening it to try for the window, pounding at the thick glass with the butt of his gun in fool’s panic (that, at least, he had been sensible enough to bring). He could see someone inside through the thick black smoke, an outline of shoulders and head that seemed to be moving slightly whenever the flames behind them near the engine choked.

This was occupied French territory; the nearest village was a while away but not that far. This crash would be noticed and investigated all too soon. The least England could do was to get in there and end the pilot’s misery before whoever shot them down came looking, there was no help for them out here.

That, and to be sure that there was nothing incriminating to be found.

‘Hang on! Almost there.’ Stepping back, he scanned the forest floor wildly for something better to use and caught sight of a large stone, half buried in the ground by the roots of a tree. It had rained recently, the ground was soft, and England tore into the dirt impatiently to work it free.

‘If you can hear me, sit back!’ Raising the rock above his head, he brought it down with a crash in the lower centre part of the windshield, hopefully far enough away from the pilot’s face. A hairline crack appeared, nothing more, but it was enough. England raised the rock again, choking as the smoke whirled about him, and kept going until the glass had splintered into delicate, cobweb-like lines.

One last hit made a hole. Smoke billowed out immediately and England worked quickly before the flames grew too intense on the new oxygen supply, hacking away until the hole was big enough to push an arm through. His fingers found material, sticky with something England didn’t want to think about, and a weak hand that gripped him back.

Taking a last breath of mostly fresh air, England pushed his upper half through to get to the cockpit, groping about blind until he felt the pilot’s seat straps. The heat was ferocious already, fire just behind where the poor man was trapped, and England fought not to take a breath or retreat to the safety of the cool night air. He couldn’t keep his eyes open, couldn’t see, and the glass bit into his stomach and arms when he leant more of his weight on the frame. It was a struggle but he pushed through, fingers groping by muscle memory to where he knew the clasps were, where he’d need to unhook an arm from the straps to pull the man free.

It would have been far easier to shoot the poor bastard.

It would have been quicker, kinder, than this certainly. No matter what happened, England wouldn’t leave him to die naturally. To die that way- encased in smoke, lungs desperately straining for clean air that wouldn’t come, flames against your feet- was one he knew all too well. It was a horrible way to go, one that he wouldn’t wish on anyone, but cruel though it was to make this child suffer needlessly, the engines hadn’t exploded yet and he couldn’t risk it.

Get him out first. See what message he had to give, if he could give it. Then let him go quickly and cleanly, the knife against England’s thigh waiting and patient.

It took three return trips for air, each one making his lungs burn more and more until he felt light headed and dizzy, but eventually they were free. Pilot cleared from his seat and legs thankfully clear, England hooked his arms under the man’s armpits and heaved them backwards out of the cockpit. There wasn’t far to go, the plane had nosedived onto its side in its final crash from the now broken trees, and they rolled backwards easily onto the forest floor.

The pilot screamed shrilly as they came free and gripped tight on England’s clothes to then sob piteously in his arms.

‘It’s alright.’ England sat up as carefully as he could and gently rolled the man off him to lay on his back. ‘You’re alright, I’ve got you.’

The pilot was a mess, aviator goggles and hair under his cap blackened by soot or oil or both. There was blood all over him, smeared across his neck and front that likely came from his head- England couldn’t tell. There wasn’t the time for it, and it wouldn’t matter soon anyway.

‘Give me your name.’ he asked urgently, struggling onto weak knees to sit over him, ‘Your ID and nationality, I’m-‘

He stopped.

Later, England couldn’t quite say what it was. He hadn’t noticed in the rush what he could feel now- the itch of someone like himself close by. But there was more, perhaps something about the pilot’s body that was familiar, or something deeper than that which ran through them both like the unbroken lines of history. An indescribable connection of family that mortal language couldn’t quite explain.

Fingers clumsy with sudden, familiar, terror, England tugged at the goggles which covered the pilot’s eyes and pitched forwards breathless and horrified at what he found.

‘Oh Jesus- Alfred.’

-------

AN:

The historical research that has gone into this is minimal, so please be kind to any inaccuracies that you see.

[merlin-wolfgang-trades-hale]

I haven't written McDanno in forever, so idk if the characterization is anywhere near correct. But some McDanno for you all.

****

"Shut up," Steve practically growled as he glared through the windshield from the passenger seat. There wasn't much to glare at, as the pouring rain was coming down so hard, if he hadn't crashed into any of them on their way back to the truck, he couldn't know there were trees out there.

"I didn't say anything."

"Then why can I hear your ranting anyway, Daniel?"

"Maybe because I am both flabbergasted and amazed at the same time that a previous boy scout turned Navy SEAL who grew up on this island is the one who keeps getting hurt on these adventures you insist on dragging me into!"

"Did you really just say flabbergasted?"

Danny sighed and they returned to silence between them, the only noise being the pouring rain in the jungle. "I can't believe people have paid for this noise to help them fall asleep."

"Not everyone associates any form of water with drowning."

"Yeah, well, that's just another bit of evidence that I'm just smarter than almost everyone," Danny grumbled. There was a pause before he looked over and asked, "How's your leg?"

"Hurts like a bitch. Pretty sure I sprained something but nothing feels broken."

"You're not escaping a doctor visit."

"I never said I wasn't."

"Good."

"I just don't really see why I'd have to. Once we get back, I can ask Max to look me over, get the better bandages, we have over-the-counter pain meds at home. Done and done."

"No," Danny said firmly.

They entered another bit of silence that stretched on, despite the air being filled with a tension of both of them wanting to say more.

Steve sat up, and reached over, while calling out, "Hey..." When he turned Danny's face toward him, he captured the blond's lips with his own in a tender kiss. When they pulled apart, Steve smiled at Danny and ran his hand through his lover's soaked hair, "I'm sorry for ruining your hair."

Danny scoffed but cupped Steve's face and pulled him in for another kiss. This one came with Danny licking Steve's bottom lip. They adjusted as best as they could in the front of Steve's Silverado so they could deepen the kiss into a proper make-out session. When they pulled back this time, Danny flicked Steve's forehead with a nonheated glare, "When are you going to apologize for hurting my boyfriend?"

"That really more important than messing up your hair?" Steve asked with a small, but amused smile.

"Damn right, it is. He's mine. And I hate it when he's hurt. Only acceptable instances are bites from me or bruises left by grips when we're having some fun at home on lazy mornings."

"It's not just lazy mornings."

"If it had been, we'd be at home, making lunch and watching a game..."

This time it was Steve's turn to sigh. He turned back to facing forward but reached for Danny's hand and interlocked their fingers. He brought Danny's hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles, "I want you to see the island like I do. To see it as beautiful and enchanting. I...I want you to like it, if you can't love it. So you're not just tolerating it."

"...hey," Danny echoed what Steve had done earlier and cupped his face and made Steve face him. He leaned in and gave him a gentle, loving kiss, "The island and I are...getting used to each other. Grace's opinion on it matters most to me, and she loves it. But next to being able to be near my daughter, I got another reason for this pineapple infested hell hole to actually be paradise for me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And he's got some shit luck every time he tries to get me into the jungle. And hopefully will read into that, that it's a sign from some spirits, to stop bringing your boyfriend out to the jungle!"

"I don't know, Danno. I think we gotta try again. To show whoever keeps fucking up my jungle dates that they can't win! We're winners!"

"Next time you ask me out on a jungle date, you're really gonna have to work for it."

Steve grinned devilishly, "You know I love a challenge. And I know all you like. I'll enjoy getting you to agree for a next time, Danno."

"With what you'll have to do to get me to say yes, not as much as me, babe."

[sunny-desk]

4,252 Days Chapter 1: Day 1, Pt 1

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Fic Summary: FTWD re-written to include an OC named Gemma who has a platonic relationship/friends with benefits situation with Nick Clark and then goes on to be with Troy Otto. Chapter Summary: Gemma sees a guy run into the road and get hit by a car Word Count: 1177 Author’s Note: This is a big commitment, hopefully I stick with it. I'm excited. Gif from here.

“Please say you’re calling with good news.” Gemma can feel the pre-emptive disappointment radiating through the phone, almost hotter than the 8AM summer sunshine beating down on her as she walks along the street.

“Hello, Olivia. It’s so good to hear your voice. I’m doing well, thank you. How about you?” Sarcasm and semi-fake niceness hung on every word.

“Stop stalling, we saw each other an hour ago, you know how I am. How did it go? Did they suspect the undercut? Because I told you, Gem, it’s silly but it’s true, they’ll judge you for it.”

“It went great, Liv.” Gemma replied simply, not wanting to keep this going and make her friend more annoyed at her than she knows she already is. “No undercut suspected, zero tattoos spotted. I have to go in for a bit of training tomorrow but after that it’s a long weekend before I start properly on Monday.”

Olivia lets out a sigh of genuine relief through the phone, Gemma can tell she’s smiling as she talks. “That’s great, Gem! Really, that’s so great. I have to get back to work but I'll see you back home later, okay? We can talk about it more then. Maybe plan a way to celebrate a little? Alcohol free, of course.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Talk later.”

Gemma hangs up the phone, puts it in her navy blazer pocket and pulls her hair out of its low ponytail, replacing it with a high one, showing off the undercut Olivia spent 10 minutes stressing about helping her hide this morning. Working in a posh office where she has to hide even the most basic parts of herself isn’t exactly the dream but beggars can’t be choosers. She needs this job. She needs to get back on track.

She can already picture her life a few months from now, a little bit of money in her pocket, new clothes she’s been in need of for weeks, finally able to pay Liv the rent she’s owed. An apartment of her own is the real dream but that might be thinking too big right now and living with Liv definitely isn’t a problem. She can picture it though. Flat screen TV, dark green sofa, huge fluffy rug that feels like you’re walking on a cloud. A bit of saving and hard work at a job she’s pretty sure is going to be mind-numbing and it'll be real before she knows it. There’s a smile on Gemma’s face as she walks down the street thinking of the future. Things might finally be looking up.

-

The loud screech of tyres and the distant thud as something hits the hard road takes Gemma out of her daydream and back to reality. It’s like time freezes for a few seconds as she stops in her tracks, taking in the scene before her.

Black marks on the ground lead up to a small silver car stopped in the middle of the road. Its windshield is smashed and Gemma is pretty sure there’s a small dent on the bumper too. The driver is sitting there, shock on his face, probably not sure if what just happened is his own fault or the fault of the person who just bounced off his windshield and is now laying almost unconscious on the concrete. The other people in the area have stopped too. Some look annoyed that their morning has been disturbed, others look horrified.

There’s a quick rush as time starts again and Gemma runs towards the car and the fallen boy. On closer inspection, he looks rough. No shoes or socks, a half-torn, baggy, white shirt, ill-fitting jeans, hair that seems to not have been brushed in a few days. Gemma peers over her shoulder at a building across the road. She’s been living in the area long enough to know where that boy came running from. It likely wasn't the driver's fault. But it probably wasn’t the boy’s either.

He’s laying on his back, staring up at the sky. Gemma leans over him.

“Hey. Can you hear me? It’s okay. You’re okay,” She says, though she’s not sure that’s true. He looks quickly around him, as much as he can while still laying flat on the floor, and then looks Gemma in the eyes for a second, like he’s checking for something. “Just stay still.”

Looking up, Gemma realises that other than the driver, who took a few seconds to build up the courage to get out of his car and check the damage, she is the only person who has rushed over to help.

“What the hell are they all doing? See a lad get hit by a car and just stand there, seems reasonable, ugh,” she mutters angrily to no one in particular. Looking around quickly, scanning the small crowd, she spots a woman with her phone in her hand and points, “Oi, you, phone someone! Now!”

“No, I’m fine,” the guy mumbles as the woman lifts her phone to call and begins walking over. She hesitates slightly at his comment.

“Ignore him. He’s been hit on the head. Call them.”

He starts trying to sit up, probably faster than he should. Gemma crouches down and reaches out, preparing to attempt to catch him if he starts falling backwards. She makes a mental note to buy some work trousers that she can properly bend in with her first pay cheque. Liv can have these one’s back, if they survive the day.

“I’m fine. I’ll just.. I’ll walk it off, you know. Thanks.” He’s distracted when he says it, not fully in the moment and not looking at Gemma but instead surveying the area once again, searching.

Gemma pretends not to notice. “Walk it off? In whose shoes?” She says it playfully, trying to distract him from whatever this is. He doesn’t seem right. And he can’t just get up and walk this off.

He pauses and takes a look at his grimy, bare feet. “Have you never heard of shoeless hikes? You should try it sometime. It’s great, really.”

Gemma smiles slightly. “Sure it is. Listen, just lay back down, okay? Or at least just stay sitting. You don’t know what could be wrong. The ambulance will be here soon.”

“Nothing is wrong. Uh, I’m Nick, you’re British, it’s.. Tuesday..?” He counts on his fingers. “Well, it’s definitely a weekday. See? Everything..” He starts looking around mid sentence, “...is,” distracted again, more searching, “… fine.”

Gemma follows Nick’s gaze and realises he’s looking at the old abandoned church longer than he’s looking in any other direction. So her assumption was right, that is where he came from.

“I’m Gemma. It’s Wednesday. Stay put.”

Nick turns his head back in her direction. He slumps like he’s lost his fight, exhausted, or has decided whatever he’s worried about doesn’t need worrying about right now. He doesn’t say anything as he lays back down on the floor, giving up his attempts to leave. The shrill sound of an ambulance siren can be heard in the distance.

-

As the ambulance pulls up, accompanied by a police car a dozen feet behind it, the driver of the car finally finds his voice. He’s been standing there for a few minutes, nervously smoothing out his work suit, trying to think of what to say. He speaks fast, trying to get everything out before anyone official gets within hearing distance.

“Listen. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you, okay? You seem fine.” He turns to Gemma. “He’ll be fine, right? Nothing needs to come of this. I’ll just... be on my way.”

“Spineless.” Gemma mumbles under her breath before looking back at him. She may not think the incident was necessarily his fault but there’s a way to handle it and it’s not this. Looking directly at him, eyes cold, she continues, “I don’t think you’re going anywhere mate, the police are right there. They’ll want a word, I’m sure. And look at him. Does he look fine?”

Nick is still laying on the floor, not moving much. It's like the adrenaline and shock have finally worn off, leaving him aching all over, able to feel what just happened to him.

Gemma continues. “And unless you fancy running some more people over, I don’t think driving off in that thing is a good idea, do you? You won’t be able to see anything out of that window.”

The man turns back to his car, noting the huge area of smashed windshield, and runs his hand through his already slicked back hair, uncomfortable. Nick ignores what Gemma has just said and looks at the slightly dishevelled man, mumbling a response, “It’s whatever, man. I have bigger things to worry about.”

Gemma looks to Nick, wondering what those bigger things are. You’d assume it was potential head injury or internal damage from being thrown onto the concrete by a hunk of speeding metal but Gemma doesn’t think so. Nick was concerned about something, being hit by a car wasn’t anywhere close to the forefront of his mind.

Before the man can decide what to do the police and paramedics have closed the distance. The police go straight to him, the medics to Nick.

“Okay then, what do we have here?” Says the commanding voice of a tall blonde woman striding over. She’s carrying a large bag of any potential medical supplies Nick may need immediately and is being followed by a man and a stretcher.

“His name is Nick. He ran out into the road and got hit by a car.” Gemma quickly responds.

“Nick, can you tell me how you’re feeling? Let me take a look at you.” The paramedic bends down to Nick. She checks his eyes and makes a ‘hm’ sound.

“I feel fine.” Nick says while she continues looking him over. He doesn’t sound fine. His voice has gotten weaker the longer he’s been laying there.

“Right, okay,” unsurprisingly, the paramedic isn’t convinced. “We should check you out properly anyway. Getting hit by a car can cause a lot of damage you can’t necessarily see. Let’s get you on this stretcher and then we’ll be right on our way to the hospital, okay?” She says it firmly, it’s not really a question. But Nick doesn’t seem to be in a position to argue anyway.

Gemma stands back while the paramedics get Nick up onto the stretcher and as they walk him the short distance to the ambulance she instinctively starts to follow. No one questions her getting into the ambulance with them and taking a seat, not even Nick, who looks over to her but seems to mostly be in his own world now, thinking about who knows what. Maybe he’s thinking about nothing, in too much of a daze. Or maybe, like Gemma, he’s thinking about the church.

[spnjediavenger]

It Won't Last Forever (Chapter 2)

Title: It Won’t Last Forever (Chapter 2)

Type: multi-chapter; father!Hotch x teen!daughter!reader, some bau x teen!reader (platonic!)

Warnings: canon-typical Criminal Minds sadness and/or violence

POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS: panic attack description, flashbacks, alludes to PTSD

Spoilers: S5 SPOILERS

Notes: This chapter is much shorter than the last since the scene has been set but hopefully it’s still good!

The panic attack and PTSD description is a mix of my own experience and some I read online - this is not how ALL panic attacks and PTSD are experienced.

As always, love and/or constructive/friendly criticism is welcome and encouraged!

Word count: 1258

“Trauma fractures comprehension as a pebble shatters a windshield. The wound at the site of impact spreads across the field of vision, obscuring reality and challenging belief.” Jane Leavy

“Ok, babygirl, you know the drill - tell me five things you can see,” Morgan coaxed gently to the girl in front of him. Hotch was needed out of town and Morgan elected to stay behind and watch over Y/n. While she was open to help, she didn’t want to see a therapist. Hotch was against this but was temporarily more lenient since she had his team to help her with her PTSD symptoms. If things got worse, then she would see someone.

“Y- I see you, the-the door, the picture of mom,” Y/n ended the last word in a sad cry.

“Come on, sweetheart, you’re doin’ good. Two more things you can see, stay with me now.”

Y/n sniffled and took a couple breaths. “My bedspread, the floor.”

“Alright, good job. Now four things you can feel.”

The girl ran her hand over her bed. “My knitted blanket…the body pillow behind me…my cheeks are wet,” she sniffled again. “And your hands.”

Morgan gave hers a squeeze. “Good. Three things you can hear.”

“Your voice…cars outside…the air conditioner.”

“Two you can smell.”

“The candle…and I can still smell the detergent on my clothes.”

“Taste?”

She let out a sad, quiet chuckle. “The salt from my tears.”

Morgan let go of one of her hands to wipe said tears from her cheeks.

“That was perfect, sweetheart. How do you feel?”

“Better,” she admitted. This wasn’t the first time one of the team walked her through a panic attack exercise and probably wouldn’t be the last. She could do them by herself at times but it was always better when she had someone with her. Each member of the team had their own methods to help her too. Morgan and JJ typically went with the five things method; Spencer would try and help her regain her breathing while he talked to her, his voice calming to her and helping her to focus on something other than her symptoms; Emily would try and ground her by getting her to pay attention to her surroundings and everything she could feel; Penelope hadn’t been needed too much but when it did happen she, like Reid, would just talk to the girl and try to stay calm herself; Rossi would guide her breathing, squeezing her hands for her to breath in and out; and her dad would hold her and do whatever else she needed. He would usually let her tell him what would help her most in each situation because many of them were different; it was these times when he was most grateful for his team and all the calming methods they taught his daughter.

Right now, it had been Morgan’s turn again.

Morgan smiled and tapped her chin. “That’s my girl.” She offered a half smile. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

The girl frowned again and looked down at her hands, still being held by one of Morgan’s. Y/n squeezed his hand a bit and took a deep breath.

“I just came across one of dad’s guns. And suddenly it was in my hands and I was back there again. I’m so tired of this, De,” she whined softly, looking into his eyes.

Morgan sighed and tucked some stray hair behind one of her ears. “I know, babygirl. I know. And I’m sorry you have to go through this. But it’s all part of trauma, unfortunately. But your dad and your aunts and uncles are all here for you to help you through it. I know it’s hard now but just remember that it won’t last forever.”

Y/n couldn’t help but smile at that.

“What?”

“That’s what Spencer says.”

“And he’s right. But then again, when is pretty boy ever wrong?” Morgan added, rolling his eyes a bit but smiling when that got a genuine laugh out of Y/n. “Ohhh there’s that beautiful laugh we all love so much.”

The girl looked at him and wrapped her arms around him. “I love you, Uncle De.”

He hugged her in turn, holding a hand to her head. “I love you too, babygirl. We’ll all be here for you through it all, ok?”

“Ok.”

Morgan: Y/n/n is asleep. Had a rough day so maybe let her stay asleep when you get back. Your little man is waiting for you though

Hotch frowned and sighed before replying.

Hotch: OK. Fill me in when I get in please

Morgan: Will do

As much as Hotch wanted to see his little girl, he knew he should let her sleep. So when he walked into his home, he happily but quietly greeted Jack when he ran over to him.

“Jack! Hey, buddy!” he whisper-yelled.

“Daddy, I missed you!” his son whisper-yelled back. “Uncle D said Y/n is sleeping and to be quiet,” he informed his father.

Hotch smiled at his son’s thoughtfulness to his big sister. “That’s nice of you, buddy. Did you have a good time with your Uncle D?”

“Yeah! We played a lot and he helped Y/n when she was sad.”

Hotch gave a sad smile that Morgan shared. “That’s good. Alright, it’s pretty late, bud. Why don’t you get into bed and I’ll tuck you in when I put my stuff down?”

“Ok!”

To his word, Hotch put his son to bed when he put his things away. He then went back out to the living room. He sat in one of the chairs to face Morgan on the couch.

“So what happened?” Hotch asked him.

Morgan sighed, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. “She got triggered when she saw one of your guns while looking for something. I helped calm her down but she got pretty tired after that.”

Hotch sighed again and ran a hand down his face. “I-”

He was cut off when a scream sounded from down the hall.

“I’ll keep Jack in his room, you go to her,” Morgan said as both men got to their feet.

“Daddy?” Jack’s voice came.

“Hey, it’s ok, little man,” Morgan said as he went into the boy’s room. “Your sister is just having a bad dream. Come with me, ok?”

As Jack followed him, Hotch went to Y/n’s room to find her writhing in her bed and crying, eyes still closed. He knelt on her bed and gently grabbed her shoulders, making her let out one more scream and open her eyes, shooting up in bed.

“Daddy?” she said, panting.

“It’s alright, honey, it was just a dream. You’re home with me,” Hotch soothed, running a hand over her messy hair.

Y/n let out a breath and ran her hands over her face as she caught her breath.

Hotch sighed as well and didn’t wait to address the elephant in the room. “It’s getting worse, Y/n. I know you don’t want to do therapy but we can’t avoid it anymore. You’re still a minor, I technically don’t need your consent to send you to therapy but I would feel a lot better if I had it.”

Y/n searched her father’s eyes before looking away and nodding. The man let out a relieved sigh and pulled her in for a hug.

“Can one of you always be with me though?” she asked with a small voice.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

The girl nodded into his shoulder and continued hugging him, relishing in his warmth and comfort. She hated the idea of having to let a stranger into her personal life but she knew this wouldn’t go away without help.

Kiera Cass said: “Accepting help is its own kind of strength.”

[petitelepus]

TFA Jazz x non binary bot reader fluff please and thank you

I know you are sick my friend so I wrote this to cheer you up! Remember guys, I'm currently taking only Demon Slayer Requests!

You were humming happily this human song that played on your inner radio. You were a small little car that was brought to life with this piece of thing called AllSpark. You were cute as a button and had a sweet personality to match it. When you were found by Autobots they had offered you a place amongst them and it honestly sounded like a deal too good to pass.

So you were just minding your business and enjoying the breeze of wind against your windshield when your radio suddenly buzzed, signaling that someone from the base tried to reach you.

"Hello?" Came Optimus' voice and you smiled, "Hi there Boss!"

"Where are you at?"

"Just enjoying some fresh air. Why?" You asked and you could almost hear Optimus frowning on the other side of the line, "I need you to come back to base. We have visitors."

"I'll be there in 5 or 10 minutes!" You replied as you took a turn and made your way to the Autobot headquarters. Once there, you transformed and walked in, only to find that your team leader Optimus was almost face to face with this dark blue bot who you didn't know.

If you had to describe what was happening you would say that it looked like Optimus and this other bot were about to trade kisses with their fists, but the only reason stopping them was standing between them. A white Autobot with a blue visor, this one was also a new one to you.

"Whoa, what's happening in here?" You asked as you walked over to your teammates and the dark blue bot scowled at you, "This is the new member of your crew? Taking in a bot created by these organics…!" The bot looked disgusted for some reason, "That is so your style Optimus."

"Sentinel, you should know that the circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant. It matters what they do with their life." Optimus defended you and you almost saw hearts. Someone had been watching your movies!

"Hi there, so you are Sentinel?" You greeted the rude bot and he nodded but decided to not waste his words on you. Okay then, it was his lost. You turned to look at the white mech and you introduced yourself.

"That's a sweet name." He smiled as he offered his hand to you, "My name is Jazz."

"That's a groovy name you got!" You smiled as you shook hands with him. Once you were all introduced to each other, Optimus explained that Sentinel and Jazz had come to Earth to take reports about Decepticon activity and would leave in a couple of days.

You nodded, "Okay! How can I help?"

"Just keep an eye out for any suspicious activity and report back to us if you see or hear anything." Optimus said and you nodded as you saluted him, "Yes sir!"

So you kept your eyes open for any suspicious behavior, all the way to early nighttime. You were enjoying some oil in the abandoned factory's yard that served as the base for Autobots when suddenly someone whistled. You looked over your shoulder and saw Jazz approaching you with a can of oil of his own.

"Hi there! Hopefully, I'm not intruding or anything?" He asked and you shook your helm.

"None at all!" You smiled as you patted the spot next to you, "Have a seat!"

"Thank you." He smiled as he took a seat next to you and sipped his oil.

"You must be tired after tonight." The white bot suddenly said, but you only smiled and shook your helm, "Nope! I'm full of energy!"

"Are you sure you’re not tired? Because you’ve been driving through my mind all day." Jazz suddenly said with a smile of his own and you blinked as the flirt sank to your mind and your optics widened as you smiled, "Aww, that was really smooth! You're living up to your name!"

"Thank you, you are too nice." Jazz nodded, "I also wanted to apologize on behalf of Sentinel. He can be a gearstick in the aft."

"Now who is being too nice?" You chuckled and he laughed, "Hey, I know I'm leaving in a couple of days… But would you like to take me out? Sentinel may not like organics but I am curious about everything."

"That sounds like a ton of fun!" You smiled excitedly as you finished your oil and got up on your pedes, "I have to show you the music your name is referred to!"

"Jazz is music here?" He asked and you nodded eagerly, "Yeah, and it's very good! Just like you are!"

"Now who is flirting?" Jazz chuckled as he put his oil down and got up, "Show me the way?"

"Follow my example!" You laughed as you transformed and Jazz copied you before the two of you took off, driving in to enjoy Detroit's nightlife.

[randoauthor]

Hurt (P.M)

Pairings: Pete Mitchell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Car accidents, mentions of death, injury, swearing (Maybe?)

Word Count: 1.4K

Author's Note: I'm back! (*again*) I was fighting a massive cold + starting school back up so I think I now have a pretty set schedule and will hopefully be back to posting regularly!

Summary: Car accidents suck, but sometimes even with the most hurt in the world the best things tend to blossom

MasterList!

It all happened so fast.

One moment we were listening to music in my car, the windows rolled down as I stared at her. Her hair flowed freely in the wind, her smile so genuine it made my heart skip a beat.

But that was one moment.

This is now.

Now I am lying on the ground staring at the stars.

How was I staring at the stars?

I was just in the car with her, why am I now here?

More importantly, where is she?

I remember the tires screeching.

I remember the shatter sound of glass against the pavement.

I hear her screaming for me, screaming in pain.

I can't feel my legs.

My head is pounding, she is screaming, and I can't feel my legs.

What the fuck happened?

"Pete?" she calls frantically, "Pete Steven Mitchell you better respond to me or else!" she called again, in between sobs of pain. The faint noise of sirens wailing in the distance, mimicking the noises she was making.

Is she okay?

That has to be a loaded question, she is obviously okay to an extent but until I lay my own eyes on her I won't know for sure. I groan as I try to move.

I have to move.

Slowly I move myself around, the lack of feeling in my legs proving to be unhelpful in this moment in time. Swinging around to my belly I finally have eyes on her.

She's okay.

Well, mostly. She seems to be bleeding but from where I don't know, a slight limp indicates that she has some form on an injury there. red marks on her face an arms suggest bruising will appear in the next day or two.

But she's okay.

The lights of the ambulance and firetrucks become more visible as they light up the scene around us. Did we get into an accident? Is anyone else hurt?

I glance around the scene a bit more. A car seems to be flipped on its side angling more towards a ditch, our car seems to be relatively fine besides a smashed hood and a shattered windshield.

Did I go through the windshield?

"Pete!" She yells, rushing to me as well as she can, collapsing next to me she takes my hand in hers. "There was an accident, another car swerved and hit us, I think you went through the windshield." She let a few tears slip. I glance at her up and down trying to find any more injuries that I missed from afar.

There's a giant blood stain on her stomach, oh my god she's bleeding from her abdomen.

I can't speak. I try my hardest to motion to her abdomen but she isn't paying enough attention to herself. She needs to look down. How do I get her to look down?

It doesn’t take much because as soon as the paramedics took one look at her she was take away, despite her protests.

"He's hurt." She tried.

"Darling you are way more hurt then him." The shorter paramedic responds, she reminds me a lot of my mom, constantly disregarding stupid protests, regardless of how hard the person tried to fight.

They eventually convinced her to get onto the stretcher, half empty promises of me following soon after. She took one final glance at me before climbing on, eventually being wheeled away from me.

Then it goes dark.

There's a steady beeping, it is the most annoying beeping I have never heard. There's a figure next to me in a chair, upon closer examination I find it to be Goose. His hair seemed to be a mess, his eyes seemed bloodshot.

God he looks worse then when Bradley was first born.

"Pete, hey buddy," his voice hoarse, tired, full of emotion.

"Hi," I say back softly, my throat feels like its on fire, "how long was I out?"

Goose gives me his signature smile, "a week."

I nod a soft response as we continue to talk.

"What happened?" I question out loud, hoping he'd be able to answer that for me.

He looked up sadly, "drunk driver." He shook his head. "There was a kid in the back too, not much older then Bradley, the driver was dead by the time everyone reached the scene. The little girl is three floors above you in intensive care."

I feel my heart ache, and I know if my heart is aching so is his.

"He swerved, they couldn't tell if it was a malicious act or just plain dumb luck that you two were picked to be the victims." I look up at Goose his final few words striking a memory I had forgotten about.

She was in the car with me.

"Is she okay?" I ask frantically, my health and well-being not important at all anymore.

I am finally thankful for the use of my legs, swinging them over the bed I ignore the throbbing is my head as I go to walk, I don't make it very far though as Goose grabs me and put me back on the bed.

"She is fine Mav," Goose says reassuringly, "She had to have surgery, but she's fine now, she's resting. She is almost completely in perfect health unlike you." He looked me up and down and I suddenly became very aware of my situation.

My legs were fine besides some cuts and bruises that were a lovely shade of purple. I had a few bandages on my arms and upon further inspection a large wrap is places snuggly around my chest and shoulder, covering what I can only imagine to be stitches.

"You had to have surgery too," Goose started, "the glass punctured a lung, you were struggling to breathe, they said you could barely speak. And you have a lovely amount of stitches along your shoulder from the glass cutting you, 387 I think they said, Carole would know she has been such a saint through all of this." I look back at Goose and realize the true state he is in, his hair was more messy then usual and he had clearly been crying.

"I'm gonna take you to see her Mav, I just need to get a wheel chair." He said heading out the door to grab one, "oh and one more thing you need to know, which I would let her tell you but she hasn't woken up yet." I look up as Goose smiles and sheds a singular tear.

"You're gonna be a dad."

Five simple words, five. Five words I can't seem to get out of my head, the ride up to her was quiet, I assume thats because I clearly need a moment to process this.

Goose was right when he said she looked bad, she was hooked up to so many different machines but the one that stood out to me the most was the one attached to her stomach.

The steady beating of a drum echoing through the room, cus that is our baby.

Goose gave me the room to let it be just us, he muttered something about having to call Carole to give her an update, so I found myself settled into a chair next to her speaking softly to her belly.

"Hi baby," I start, "I'm your dad, and your mom has done an amazing job of protecting you from this crazy world so far." I smiled, "your heart beats for the two of us peanut and I promise we are gonna spoil you so much."

Her hand moved slowly to place it on her stomach and I look up in a shock to meet her eyes.

"Damn right we are." She said with a smile.

I try my hardest to get to her quickly but with the state of my own body and the fear of injuring her more then she already is I move at a fast paced caution. I kiss her passionately before moving to kiss her stomach, the safe space for our baby.

We remained in the Hospital for another week, I ended up home sooner then she did for obvious reasons. I took my time to prepare my home, the both of us agreeing that while three weeks ago we thought moving in together was jumping the gun a little bit, it seems perfectly reasonable now.

So when I brought her home, I got to see the look on her face when sitting on our bed was a small pair of white booties for our baby to wear one day.

And that made it all worth it.

Taglist!

@itscheybaby

@turningtoclown

@daryldixonstorm

@Dilfsandtherapy

@Nickie-amore

@malindacath

@luckyladycreator2

@sadpetalsstuff

@Shanimallina87

@Wishingwell-2

@Xoxoloverb

@Majormaybe1

@Mizzy-pop

@Saramaple

@Hope-love-equality2

@toothhurtyam

@beaner-life-23

@fogle97

@justanothermagicalsara

@tallrock35

@callsigns-roo-and-bag

@marchingicenotes7

@scoopsahoy008

@oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo

@malindacath

@calsjack

@notanordinaryprincess95

@fxngsfxgxrty

[leonskennedysfavoritewife]

Back In Town (3/?)

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: jealousy, eating disorder, depression, WHOLESOME ASF, fluffy, drug use, wholesome smut but also kinda dirty.

Long read so I hope everyone enjoys! Took me longer because it gets laggy with how wordy this chapter is, and I didn’t have time for pics in this part but thank you all for the support and have a good read!

The oven’s clock read 6:45 pm.

Still no call or sign of Eddie. He should have been getting off of work about 30 minutes ago. Hopefully he was alright. You finished up your granola bar, tossing the wrapper aside in the trash -defeated.

Then,suddenly, you hear it- the low roar of Eddie’s van. Your knees almost buckle under your running to the couch, and your fingers find their way to the curtains and wedge through the blinds so you could see out.

‘Who is that?’

A slim girl with blonde hair wrapped up in a ponytail gets out of Eddie’s van, laughing at something he says. You waste no time before pulling away from the window and heading to the phone.

*Ring* *Ring* *Ring*

*Click*

“ ‘Yelloow? Hawkin’s Form Tattoos, my name is Tyler- what can I do for you?”

“Hey, Ty. It’s (Y/N). I was just wondering if I could come in- I know it’s my off day but maybe I could help around the shop today?”

“Oh, shit! Hey, uhhh-” There's a shuffle on the other end.

“Of course, you can come in. Everything alright?”

“Y-yeah, just restless today, I guess. Maybe you could come pick me up and we’ll grab some food- bring something for Ashley too?”

“Sounds sick, I have no one else on my books today so I’m just doing some flash. Let me check with Ash, though.”

You wait for a moment. Hoping.

“Alright, yeah. We’re good to go. I’ll swing by and get ya’.”

“Thanks a ton.”

“No prob, girly.”

*Click*

You trudge to your room to throw on something decent, the depression entering your body as you remember the girl Eddie was with. You don’t know why you even cared, you two were enemies two weeks ago- did you really think you’d be all cozy and live happily ever after?

No. That never happened.

______

You plop down into the clothed seat of Tyler’s souped-up red Honda Civic, a large sticker on the windshield that reads ‘Do or Die’. Something you never understood, but then again you didn’t understand cars either.

“Sup. Ready to go?” He asks, hand on the gear-shift.You always found manual cars to be mesmerizing- ‘so much hand work’. You thought.

“Yeah. Inside of the car’s nice, by the way.”

“Thanks, didn’t take you to be much of a car girl.”

“Oh, I’m definitely not, but I can apprecia-” You’re cut off by the sight of Eddie and Blondie exiting his trailer- her stupid face twisted up in a laugh again. And so is his. “-te them for sure.”

You see Eddie look in your direction abruptly as Tyler’s engine roars. He’s backing out now, rolling down the windows and turning up some kind of Thrash band you don’t recognize. You don’t know how you see it, but from here, Eddie looks pissed. More than pissed. You can’t see much more as dirt flies up behind you two.

___

You and Tyler enter the shop with two greasy bags of food in hand. The bell rings, alerting Ashley to your arrival.

“Hey girl! So glad I get to see you today! You know how I am when I’m alone with Tyler- Homicidal.” She grins at the both of you, turning back to her client. The buzzing of the machine fills the air, bringing you back to reality. You go behind the counter and into the back room, setting down the bags on a cart.

Tyler sorts through what belongs to who, telling Ashley where her food will be, before he sits down in his worn leather ‘drawing chair’ and tears through a wrapper- obviously having been too busy to eat dinner yet.

“This was a fantastic idea.” He leans back, in pure bliss at how good his burger is. Surely, it wasn’t that good.

“Well, while we’re here, wanna collab on a flash sheet? I think it’d be fun!” You’re feeling a lot better now, especially since you get to be productive.

Tyler perks up, excited.

“Fuck yeah. I actually haven’t done a sheet with anyone else before, so it’d be an honor of mine.” He smiles, taking another bite of his burger- cheese and juice oozing onto the wrapper.

“Cool! I’ll go ahead and fool around with some ideas, see what we can come up with. You just finish up eating, no rush.”

“You sure? You should eat too, while we have time.”

“Nah, I had dinner before I left.”

Lie.

He looks at you for a moment, before turning back to what he’s doing.

“Well, if you need to stop and take a break- feel free. You’re literally here on your day off.”

“Gotcha.” You go sit down at your desk, which you covered in movie, video game, and crude pin-up stickers- along with a few brand decals. Fumbling through your supplies, you gather a mechanical pencil and a few micro-lining pens.

You flip through some books on your desk, trying to get an idea of what theme you’d like for the sheet so that you can pitch it to Tyler. Then it hits you.

“Hey, Ty. You like Aliens? The movie I mean.”

He turns to you in the swivel chair, “Fuck yeah. Why?”

“Well, I figured it’d be great for our theme!”

“Shit, that’s dope.” He rolls over to your station so he can begin working with you. Your hand starts moving across the paper, you’re drawing a pin-up xenomorph girl, adorned in a leather bodysuit- Along with a few quotes in traditional script. You pass the sheet over to your coworker, letting him add his own designs to the paper.

You both are leaned into each-other, working on both the coloring and lining process. What felt like a few minutes was actually about 2 hours of work. Ashley had finally finished with her client, coming in to grab her food.

“Damn, I’m starving.” She pulls out her chicken-sandwich before looking over to see what you two are working on.

“Holy shit, nice work guys. Mind if I hang that up front when you’re done?”

“Yeah, no problem. That’d be awesome.”

“Cool. Well, I’m all done for the night so if you two wanna close up…”

“Sure, I am just extra help today anyways. Go on home, girl.”

“Yes! Thanks, you’re the best.” She takes a bite of her sandwich before grabbing her purse and keys to leave.

You smile, happy that everyone’s liking the work you’re doing.

“So…” Tyler speaks up.

“Not that it’s my business, but what’s going on with you and that Munson guy? Your neighbor?”

You suck in a breath. Oh yeah. That.

“Ah, well I get rides here and there. We’re good friends- yeah, but today he was a little busy so I just decided to spend my free time here. Be of use, ya know?”

“Oh. I figured you guys had a fight or something. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I know it’s tough for you to get to work.”

“Yeah, my car should be here any day now- but the drive from California to Hawkins is pretty far and I didn’t feel like having to pay expedited transport fees, ya know? I was put on a waiting list for much cheaper- I was worried about one of those vehicles banging up my car in a rush anyways.”

“Can’t argue with that. I don’t wanna imagine the pain in the ass it is to move so far.”

“Ugh. Don’t even mentio-“

“Not interrupting, am I?”

You jump in your seat, turning to the doorway.

“Oh.” It’s Eddie, who just happened to let himself into the back-office.

“Hey man, you can’t just barge in here.” Tyler stands up, pushing in his chair.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, still trying to be civil.

“Just came to see if you needed a ride home tonight.” Eddie ignores Tyler completely, obviously not taking a liking to him.

You look at Tyler, then back to Eddie.

“Yeah. We’re done here anyways.”

“You sure? You guys seemed pretty cozy, I don’t wan-“

“We’re done here.” You grab your hoodie and the shop keys, letting Tyler handle the lights and putting away extra supplies. You lock up the cabinets and drawers, leading Eddie and Tyler out of the building before locking it and tossing the keys to Tyler.

“See ya.” You tell him.

“Oh, and thanks for the ride.”

“No problem, girly.” He gives you a look of concern but lowers himself down into the driver’s seat. Eddie looks angry, the nickname is bothering him.

You yourself climb into the van, fastening your seatbelt.

“Is everything okay, you weren’t at home so I-“

“I’m fine. How was your date or whatever?” You turn to face the window.

“Date? The hell are you talking about?”

“You know. Blondie.”

Eddie pauses.

“Angie?”

“Oh, cute name.”

“It wasn’t a date. I was fixing up her car at the shop and she needed a ride home- as her ride is severely fucked, mind you. I had to go grab some cash before driving all that way.”

You stay silent.

“Are you mad at me?” He asks, making you feel even more guilty and wanting to run off into the night- never to be seen again.

“N-no. I just… I don’t know..”

“What is it? You can tell me. Anything at all.” You pause. And breathe.

“I just thought you forgot about me, that’s all.” You huff the words out, regretting letting your wall down about your obviously severe abandonment issues.

“Forget about you? Why would I do that? You’re the only good thing in this town.”

You look over at him, your arms crossed.

“You actually mean that?”

He smiles.

“Duh. I don’t make sandwiches for just anyone.”

“But you do give them rides, it seems.”

You regret saying it, but he doesn’t snap like you expect.

“Are you jealous?”

“No. Why would I be? We aren’t dating. I don’t care about who you are or aren’t seeing.”

Lie.

He looks a bit angry, or maybe hurt. Or just surprised?

“Well, I’d care if you were seeing someone. Maybe Tyler, even?” He sounds like he’s asking now.

“Tyler? That’s my coworker. I just asked him to come get me so I could do something other than sit around watching you and Blondie fl-”

“So you were spying, then.”

You bite your tongue.

“N-no. I just.. was excited to see you.”

He smiles, knowing he’s making it difficult for you to stay upset. You hate it.

“Was? Or am?”

You sigh, finally giving in.

“Am.”

“Am so what?” He teases.

“I am SO fucking excited to see you. There, happy?”

“Actually, I AM. I like hearing that from you.”

You feel your face burning, is it on fire? Is the heat on right now? No. It’s something else.

“Why?”

He grabs the steering wheel, moving his hand to the gear shift and into reverse- so he can back out of the parking spot.

“Nothing. I just do.”

Pry. Ask. Do something.

“You can tell me, you know.”

He sucks in a breath.

“It’s because I like you.”

There it is. React.

“I… I like you too.”

Before anyone else says a word- you’re back in your driveway.

“Look.” He puts the van in park and turns to you, serious.

“There isn’t anyone else, and I’m not going anywhere. Ever. Unless you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to.”

His dimples and smile lines appear.

“Okay. By the way, I grabbed this.” he pulls the same brown, greasy bag that held your food earlier from the back of the van.

“You almost left it at work. You should get inside and eat.”

“You’re not coming in?”

“I got work tomorrow, sweets. If you absolutely need me though, I’m a phone call away. Okay?”

“Okay. Goodnight, Eddie.”

He grabs your hand before you can get out.

“Uh, not so fast. I’m still walking you to the door.”

___

The sun shines unbearably through the blinds, and you roll over onto your back- rubbing your eyes.

“Ugh. Fuck.” You look at the alarm clock.

1:52 pm.

“Jesus.”

Stumbling out of bed, you head to the kitchen for a glass of water- before the answering machine beebs. You go over and press to play the message.

“Hey, just making sure you’re okay. I’ll see you when I get off of work. Peace!”

You smirk, thinking it was nice he was actually worried. It made some of your anxiety vanish. Before you can walk away from the receiver again, the phone rings- which you quickly pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hi! Is this Miss (Y/LN)?”

“Yes, this is her.”

“Great! My name is Garette, I’m with Cali Car Transport, we have your car for delivery today, and the driver should be arriving soon.”

You almost squeal with excitement. Fucking finally. It was about time your car was finally being delivered.

“Oh my gosh, great! Thank you for letting me know!”

“Of course. Ma’am. Have a great day!”

“You too!”

*Click*

‘Now, time to wait for my car.’

___

“Alright. Just sign here and I’ll give you the keys.”

The scruffy man offered out a clipboard, which you quickly grabbed and signed as if your life depended on it. Once you gave it back, he held out the keys to you.

“Alrighty, you have a good day, miss.”

“You too!” He climbed back into the 18-wheeler parked out in the road before spurring up dust.

Your beautiful, gray 1987 Toyota SR5 Pick-up truck now sat in your driveway. You were so relieved to have it back.

‘Maybe I should take her for a ride, pass some time.’

You unlock the truck and settle into the passenger seat. Your CDs still sat in the back cab, neatly organized in a box- with some alphabetized inside of a CD case.

You dig through, grabbing one at random.

‘Strangeways, Here We Come- The Smiths’

‘Nice.’ You pop the CD into the player, turning up the music and yanking the seatbelt across your body. You’re ready to go. You hadn’t driven around Hawkins in years, you’ve only been riding around with other people- and it was usually only to work and back home. But you felt confident you’d get around just fine.

‘Just please don’t get lost.’

___

You decide to go by the record store, pick up a few CD’s and maybe some things for Eddie. Though it might be impossible- you didn’t know what he didn’t listen to.

As you enter, you see a couple and the clerk, who looked bored out of her mind. You scan through the Rock and Metal section, picking up a few things that looked interesting enough for Eddie’s taste. As for you, you wanted to touch up your New Wave collection- snatching up the only Smith’s album you didn’t own- and a copy of Floodland by Sisters of Mercy.

Maybe Eddie wouldn’t rag you too hard for what you bought for him.

You go to the counter, paying a total of $35.

For Eddie, you bought:

DIO- The Last in Line

Krokus- Head Hunter

Witchfynde- Give ‘Em Hell

New Order- Substance (This was something for the both of you)

A DIO Guitar pick

A flame patch for his jacket

‘Hopefully he’ll love these.’

___

You close the door behind you, glad you’re finally back home. You had made a trip to the mall after leaving the Record Store, picking up some new clothes and a few things for the trailer- before grabbing some lunch at the food court along with some cookies for dessert. You set the bags down on the armchair and nestle yourself into the couch, beat.

It had been eons since you had been out all day like that- it had you exhausted. You reach over to the end table, pulling an already rolled joint from the tin and lighting it. A few deep puffs and you feel a bit more at ease. You get up, putting the Sisters of Mercy’s CD into the stereo, turning it up loud enough to please your stoned hearing. Your butt finds itself back onto the couch, and you sprawl out, enjoying the music.

*BANG BANG*

The door.

“Come in!” You almost-yell over the music. The screen door squeaks before you see a more-than-welcome sight. Eddie. But not only is he here, he’s wearing a cropped band-tee, it’s too faded for you to tell what it is. His stomach and v-line are visible to the world, and your eyes linger too long thanks to you being a little too baked to look away. You pretend it didn’t happen, but Eddie noticed.

You turn over onto your stomach, your elbows propping up your chin on the arm of the couch.

“Like the shirt.” You mumble out, too confident.

“Thanks.” ‘I can tell.’ He thinks, before kicking his boots off by the door.

“I got you something. Check that bag on the counter.”

“Oooh, is it a pony?” He says jokingly, digging through the plastic.

He stops.

“These are for me?” He holds one of the CD’s, dumbfounded.

“Duh, it’s a thank you present.”

“Oh?”

“For putting up with me. And giving me rides.”

“Well, one: I don’t put up with you, I care about you. Two: I love riding around with you. And three: You just completed my soul with these gifts. So thank you.”

You smile.

“Come sit, we can watch another movie if you want? I’ll make something for dinner, too.”

“Is that even a question? Sounds like a perfect night in.”

“Yay! I’ll get cooking, in the meantime…” You pick up the joint from the ashtray and wave it.

“Finish this off for me, huh?”

___

You and Eddie sit at the dining table. Instead of on opposite sides, he’s seated next to you, looking down at your plate. You made tacos, one of Eddie’s favorite comfort dishes.

The both of you joke around, finishing up your food. He offers to put the plates in the dishwasher- something that you thought was cute of him to even offer.

While he loads it up, you find yourself back on the couch, the peak of your high settling into your body- and Eddie now sitting next to you once more.

“So, what’s the movie for tonight?” He asks, draping his arm behind you.

“Predator.”

“Fuck yes.” He perks up a little.

Your eyes wander down his stomach again, that patch of hair and your eyes seem magnetized now.

‘Thank god it’s dark.’

You think he doesn’t notice you staring- but he does.

You get deja vu from the last time you had both been on the plaid couch, watching a cheesy horror film. The butterflies have returned- but this time the high and the fluttering creatures have made their way lower in your body. Maybe your body is finally catching up to the lack of sexual activity you’ve had in…you don’t even remember how long.

You don’t want to think like that though. Eddie’s sweet, and you don’t wanna fuck it up. Maybe unless he does, too. You don’t even know what you’re thinking.

Then, you forget where you’re at- and lean your head into his chest. You feel him tense and peer down at his belly again. ‘Stop.’

“This is nice.” He says, breaking your anxiety.

“I-I agree.”

He starts to play with your hair again.

‘Focus on the Movie. Focus on the movie.’

But you fail.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, sweets?”

“About last night.”

“What about it?”

“When you said you liked me.”

“O-oh.”

“Did you mean it… like that?”

He doesn’t respond for a moment.

“I-Uh. Yeah. I did.”

You sit up, pulling your knees under you and turning to him. The eye contact is deadly now. Your brain is too high to keep you from saying what you want.

He speaks again before you do.

“I like you. A lot. I’m just scared that I’ll mess this up.” You quickly lessen the distance between the two of you.

Eddie puts a hand to your cheek, stroking it with his thumb.

“You’re beautiful, you know?”

It takes you aback, but your weed-induced confidence is loud and proud.

“So are you.” He seems just as surprised. He had never had anyone call him that. But he liked it.

“Come here.” He coos, taking his other arm and pulling you in.

Your lips melt into his, soft and warm. Every good emotion you can possibly feel comes crashing down on you like a landslide.

He snakes a hand up to your neck, stroking it like he did your cheek. It sends signals to every nerve ending in your body- it’s so perfect. You wrap a hand up in his hair, lightly grabbing a fistful. He groans into your mouth, biting your lip gently in response. Your loose brain betrays you- and a moan crosses out.

You’re self conscious for a moment. But Eddie eats it up.

“Fuck, baby. You sound so pretty.” Your left hand is on his thigh now, and you squeeze.

Eddie pulls you into his lap, running his hands down your sides- right across the exposed skin from your tank top that had ridden up. Your tongues rub together, the sensation sending a message to your groin.

You grind down on Eddie and feel how hard he is- but you want him even harder.

“Yeah, like that, baby. Feel good for you?”

You nod, grabbing onto his hair with both hands now- being a bit more rough. Eddie bucks up into you- making you yelp.

Before you know it, he’s pushed you onto your back.

“You alright?”

“Mhm. Are you?”

He pulls off his shirt.

“I’m wonderful. Just trying to thank god real quick for the fact that you exist.”

He grabs the hem of your tank top, looking at you for permission to keep going.

“Please, Eddie. I want you.”

“Don’t worry, baby. You have me.”

He pulled the shirt off, your bare breasts exposed to him- you had skipped out on a bra quite often. Something Eddie DID notice but had to refrain from paying attention to- out of respect. Or the fact that he would be popping boners constantly around you.

Eddie slinks down to your breasts, massaging one while he takes the nipple of the other into his mouth. He lightly pinches it with his teeth and flicks his tongue over it, making you arch your back and moan out.

Suddenly, you’re noticing every touch- whether it’s the fabric barely brushing against your clit or the way his right hand is touching your inner thigh. They were overly sensitive- and you had a feeling that he somehow sensed that.

You’re squirming under him, almost too dazed to notice his hand slip beneath your pants and into your underwear.

You break the silence, panicking.

“I’m sorry- I haven’t exactly… shaved.”

He looked down at you, puzzled, through his mop of hair hanging down. He quickly yanks your pants off of you, your underwear coming with.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, I think it’s hot.”

Eddie wasn’t lying. He had a few moments where he thought about what you had rocking underneath your pants. Bush? Shaved? He had preferred hair, though. There was just something about it that he loved.

He grabs your knees, pushing them apart to look at you. You get nervous at the thought of him fully seeing you- but he just told you how he felt- so there was no need to worry yourself.

“Mind if I…” He asks.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, confused.

“Well, maybe I should just show you, then.”

Eddie sits you up, your legs hanging off of the couch. He settles in between your thighs, his mouth attaching to your clit and sucking.

You almost jump out of your skin.

“Holy shit. Fuck.” You moan out, gripping onto his hair.

He laps away, flicking his tongue right on your bud. You swear you’re seeing stars- right before your stomach knots.

“Eddie. Fuck. I’m about to-“

He doesn’t stop, he instead inserts a finger into you- and then a second. They curl into your spongy spot, making you jerk and snap your knees around him.

“S-sorry Eds.”

“Don’t be sorry baby. Just means I’m doing good.”

“Fuck. fuck. Oh, Eddie.”

You feel the release, followed by him furthering his motions to let you ride out your orgasm- meanwhile, he’s losing his mind at the way you say his name.

Once he thinks you’ve had enough, he pulls away and moves to plant a kiss on your forehead.

Then Eddie stands to remove his jeans, followed by his boxers- and returns to the couch, settling you onto your back once more.

You take a glance at how well-endowed he is, it was easy to see through his jeans but it’s even more intimidating without. Almost as if you’re seeing something you weren’t meant to- but took pleasure in anyways. He pulls out a condom from his pants on the floor, rolling it down onto his shaft.

The heat between your legs is unbearable, and Eddie positions himself over your entrance- gliding past you sensitive bits in the process to coat himself well enough.

He looks at you.

“You sure you want to do this? We can stop at any time, okay?”

You smile, appreciative that he’s so considerate but you’re also desperately horny for him.

“I want this. Please.” Your hands travel up to his shoulders for you to brace yourself- and Eddie sinks down into you slowly.

“Fuck, baby. This wet for me?”

“Y-yes, Eddie.”

Once he’s fully in- you take notice of how full you are. Your poor cervix is flush against his cock.

Eddie drags his hips back- slamming back into you. Again. And again. Your moans are getting careless, along with Eddie’s groans.

“Fuck baby. You’re being so good f’me.”

He nestles his mouth over your neck, leaving swollen, red and purple patches in the process.

“E-Eddie!” You half care-half don’t.

His lips grin against you while he starts thrusting into you faster- and harder.

“Let this be my affirmation that you don’t have to worry about anyone else, huh?” He says, groaning. The sound of flesh hitting against you, along with both of your forbidden noises fills the room quite loudly.

“-and, if you ever even thought about Tyler- I want this to make you forget about him.”

You nod, too pleasured to respond properly.

“I want you to say it.”

“Say what, Eds?”

“Say you don’t give a shit about Tyler- fuck. You’re so fucking tight. J-just be a sweet girl and tell me you don’t care about that asshole.”

His jealousy takes you aback- you had been jealous too, but you didn’t think he’d be the type. Either way, it turns you on.

“I don’t give a shit about him!” You whine, your legs hooked around his thighs now to pull him closer.

His hips are crashing against your ass and lower thighs at an ungodly force, surely leaving behind marks.

Eddie reaches a thumb down to your clit, rubbing with just the right pressure. He can feel you clenching around him.

“Glad to hear it. When he’s saying some stupid shit to you at work- I want you to think of this.” Your belly is knotting again.

“I w-will. F-fuck! Eddie, I’m gonna cum again!”

“That’s alright baby. Cum on me, it’s okay.”

You feel the shockwave once more, the dragging of Eddie’s cock along your walls becomes ten times more sensitive.

“Fuck baby, keep moaning like that. I’m almost there.”

He comes down on you as hard as he can muster, your noises making his cock twitch as he releases into the latex. He lets out a mix of whimpers and a groan, still thrusting with decreasing pace to ride out his high.

He pulls out of you and throws the condom in the nearby bin, before he pulls you into his arms on top of him.

Eddie plants a few kisses on your face while rubbing a hand down your back.

“You okay?” He asks, desperately wanting to make sure you’re comfortable.

“Mhm. More than okay.”

He chuckles, tangling a hand up in your hair to play with it- something he seems to love doing.

———

Steam blows out of the room as you open the bathroom door. You took a shower and put on some fresh clothes- one of your oversized t-shirts and loose pajama pants.

Eddie is still asleep on the couch, and you decide to wake him up so that he can get into your bed and not have terrible back pain in the morning.

You both crawl into the blankets, exhausted from earlier.

“Mm. You’re so warm.” He mumbles into your neck.

You smile, knowing this will be the best sleep you ever get.

‘Maybe every night will be this good.’

@sidthedollface2

[bettyfrommars]

Hi Betty! For your requests could I get a little Bitch Whatever in winter with hybrid Steve? I’m missing my monster boyfriend.

Or if you’re not feeling that, then maybe some holiday fluff with either of the biker boys? You can pick which one.

Whatever you feel most inspired for. Thanks, have fun writing! ♥️

Gia! I love these options, and I will for sure do some holiday fluff with our biker boys as well. This time, I chose hybrid!steve. I hope you enjoy my dear friend.

hybrid!steve x fem!reader

18+ONLY, hints to monsterfucking but does not actually happen, drinking blood, being chased in the woods, mention of a gun shot, Steve is part vampire/part wolf. I wrote this really fast, it was so much fun, and it has not been proofread.

wc: 884

The snow was coming down in thick, soft flakes, and your windshield wipers were flapping when you heard over the car radio that a woman was almost attacked by a wild beast. She said it had the body of a wolf, but it stood on hind legs.

You yanked the steering wheel, tires spinning to a halt in the gravel, and then turned the volume up with the knob on your dash.  

“Please, no, baby, no…” your whisper trailed off.  The radio announcer continued to say that the beast in question was still on the loose, and hunters were out looking for it that very moment, all eager to collect the bounty on its head.  

Frantically, your eyes searched the dense woods to your right, and there were pinpricks of light from lamps and torches dancing in the darkness as groups of people trudged through the snow, trying to pick up on his trail.

You were afraid this would happen one day.  When the moon was full, Steve always cut through the forest to get to your place, and you wondered when the day would come that he might stumble upon a few campers or someone walking their dog on the trail that connected to a collection of suburban houses nearby.

He did not have much control of his animalistic urges in hybrid form, and you were relieved to know that the woman was unharmed.  Apparently, the beast she’d encountered lurched at her, but then her husband tried to take a shot at it with a handgun, but missed, and he was gone too quick for the man to even try another shot.

You wondered if Steve had been grazed by the bullet, if he was possibly wounded somewhere. You raced the final mile to your place, and checked to see if he’d made it back first before bundling up to go outside and face the elements, to hopefully find him before the hunters did.  You flipped your Christmas lights on and grabbed a flashlight from the junk drawer.  

Once you broke free from the cement path and into the thicket of trees, you heard a howl; it was the howl of a wolf, and it was not that far away.  

“Stevie?” You called in a strained whisper.  You could hear the voices of the handful of armed hunters echoing from miles away.  Your flashlight beam searched the snowy ground for footprints.  Or, paw prints, in this case. 

You’d forgotten to wear gloves and your nose was already frozen.  You pulled your beanie down over your ears.  

It took your eyes a second to adjust, but you swore you saw two yellow orbs glowing in the distance.  There was a growl then, low and menacing, and you feared suddenly that maybe Steve was not the monster the woman had seen, maybe there was something more terrifying out there, and perhaps you were in danger. 

Then, you felt the fur against the back of your hand and you knew he’d somehow come up right beside you.

You noticed the warmth first of his body heat first, like it was radiating from a furnace, and even though you knew it was him, you couldn’t help but jump back.

You tripped and almost fell, but he caught you, and with a grunt, he scooped you up into his arms before taking off at a run.  He was so strong, your weight was nothing to him, and you clung to his furry neck, eager to be close to him.

“I was so worried,” your voice vibrated in a strange way with the impact of each one of his steps. 

He only hummed and tightened his grip on you.  All of his focus seemed to be getting you both as far away from the woods as possible. 

Back at your place, he put you down on your feet gently, and then hid in the bushes before climbing up to the second floor.  

When he finally came through the window, you could see by the lights from the Christmas tree that his leg was bleeding.  He was weak and he needed to feed.  You were quick to take your coat off and sit on the couch, beckoning him to you with open arms.  There was never much talking when he was in his hybrid form, but you somehow always knew what the other was thinking.  

He dropped to his knees between your legs and buried his face in your chest first, mewing softly, like a wounded dog.  You ran your fingers through his hair and kissed his head.  “Did those people scare you, baby?”  He clutched onto the material of your sweatshirt and nodded once.  

“Let me feed you, Stevie,” you lifted his face by the chin, letting your tongue feel the razor sharp edge of one of his fangs as you kissed.  “Let me take care of you.”

He nuzzled you from shoulder to neck first, licking and nibbling, softly whimpering until his lips latched on the perfect spot.  His fangs sank in fast and hard, and you knew it was better that way, better for him to penetrate quickly so that the natural pain killer in his saliva could soothe any discomfort.  You wrapped your legs around him and listened to the slurping sound with every pull as he drank from you.

[fuckin-sick-bih]

Rained Out

Summary: After their hike gets rained out, a soaked and freezing Hale and Jessie return to their car to drive home and get some food on the way. Hale's health takes a turn for the worse and Jessie confesses something finally to his boyfriend. (Jessie has the kink!) CW: mess, mentions of contagion and arousal Word Count: 3.1k ish (I'm not good at short okay!) Note: Hale and Jessie are my original characters, please do not steal them or use them or appropriate them without my express consent. They're very near and dear to my heart. But I will HAPPILY answer any and all questions about them anytime and always give more info about them! I love ranting about them.

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

Cold rain pelted against the Bronco’s windshield while the heat rattled softly as it always did. The quiet music playing drowned out most of the rattle, but Hale could still hear it, even as he sniffled every few moments. The drive through Colorado during late fall was beautiful but the rain had dampened things a bit. Including both himself and Jessie. Hence the heat currently on full blast so his boyfriend might stop shivering soon.

“You alright over there, Texas? Still too cold for you?” Hale asked softly, knuckles rubbing at his nose that didn’t seem to want to stop running since they’d been caught in the downpour on their hike.

Jessie took a breath, willing his teeth to stop chattering so he could speak. “Warming up. I’m fine. You must be thrilled, Alaska.” He teased back and even shuffled from his curled up position by the window to reach out a foot and nudge his thigh.

A chuckle rumbled out of Hale, but it only seemed to scratch at his throat in an odd way, making him turn and cough into his elbow with one hand still on the wheel. “Livin’ the dream.” He answered, a little quieter than before to try and spare his throat that seemed to just feel scratchy for some reason.

He could feel those worried, sweet brown eyes on him, and Hale sighed quietly. “Grab the blankets from the back, Jes. I can still hear your teeth chattering.” Obediently, Jessie reaches into the back of the old truck to go looking for the blanket Hale mentioned. It took a few moments of searching but he eventually found it and pulled it out, curling up in the soft buffalo plaid with another shiver.

“Can we stop for some food? I’m starving.” Jessie asked hopefully as he spotted a sign that said there was a McDonalds a few miles ahead.

A soft grunt left Hale and he glanced at the exit sign as they passed it. “Sure, pup. What do you wh-” His nose was trying to drip down his upper lip and he sniffed hard again, pressing his knuckles back under his nose. “Sorry, what do you want to eat?”

There was a half second of a pause and Hale could feel not only his runny nose but Jessie scrutinizing him. “Just burgers are fine. Ohh or a Big Mac!” he says excitedly while undoing his seat belt so he can sprawl across the bench seat in the blanket. His head settles in Hale’s damp lap, and he looks up at him.

Hale glanced down at Jessie, head now in his lap, and he smiled at him for a moment with his knuckles still pressed against his leaking nose. “I’ll get you a Big Mac then.” He assures him and sniffles again, looking back to the road. There was a dull sort of itch starting to prickle at his nose as he took the exit for the fast food joint.

Jessie hummed and shuffled to turn and press his face against Hale’s belly, nuzzling against the bit of softness he could find amidst the muscle.

They pulled into the drive thru, the itch feeling like it was moving up and deeper into his sinuses as he rolled the window down. His nostrils twitched and his breathing caught and hitched softly as he was about to order. “H-hang on-” He made sure to press his foot to the brake and his whole body jerked with a powerfully, but pitifully, stifled sneeze as his fingers pinched his nose shut.

“Hiih-ExXTsh! Ugh, sorry about that. Can we get a Big Mac meal with a sprite and ah-” His breathing hitched again, and he pinched his nose for a moment, willing the tickle to go away. He cleared his scratchy throat and continued, “And a spicy chicken sandwich meal with…” He swallowed, feeling that scratch in his throat and sighed knowing he was about to out himself to Jessie. “With orange juice.”

There was instantly a reaction from Jessie who was shuffling where he lay to slide a hand up under his shirt and touch his skin. “Hale?”

Hale’s foot slid off the brake as they were told to move to the first window to pay. “Can you hand me my wallet, pup?” he asked, completely ignoring the concerned tone with which Jessie had said his name. Currently, Hale was busy trying to make sure he didn’t let the tickle in his nose overwhelm him again until after they’d gotten their food.

Jessie grunted and sat up to grab Hale’s wallet from the glove box where they’d tossed it for their hike and handed him his card to pay. He watched Hale rub at his nose roughly and sniffle before and after paying. Even after getting their food, he was still sniffling, and Jessie felt his stomach doing summersaults just watching him.

He’d never told Hale about his little fascination with sneezes. They’d been dating for well over a year by now… Jessie knew he should feel comfortable telling Hale but every time he tried it was like the words vanished. Thankfully, Hale seemed to have a robust immune system.

In fact, Jessie could only ever remember once before that Hale got sick and it barely even counted. Just some stomach bug that Jessie had been happy to hold his poor boyfriend’s long dirty blonde hair back for while rubbing his back.

Suddenly food was being placed into Jessie’s lap as Hale hurriedly shoved the bag at him so he could pull forward. “Ihh-hih…” Hale’s breathing hitched, just barely holding his sneezes in until they got to a parking space. He threw the Bronco in park and exploded, “Ihh’EXXtShew! Hihh… Hehht’Shxxew!” He’d ducked his face into his elbow again, this time not having enough time to stifle his sneezes and he’d left a wet patch on his sleeve.

“You’re not done.” Jessie said idly, doing absolutely everything to not look at Hale now as he rummaged in the bag for their food. He’d already stared too long while the other fought back his sneezes and then let loose.

Hale sniffled, a little thicker than before, and grimaced at the sound. “What?” He asked blearily, the itch still present and buzzing in his sinuses but not wanting to come out yet.

Jessie cleared his throat a little and put Hale’s chicken sandwich on the seat next to him as well as both their straws in their drinks. “You once told me you sneeze in fours when you’re sick. To be fair you were high as a kite… but I’ve never seen you order orange juice. Ever. And you’ve been sniffling since the rain.” He explained only to be nearly cut off as Hale sneezed twice more.

“Heeh’XXTSHew! Et’XSHEW! I’m not sick.” Hale retorted immediately after the sneezes he’d directed into his elbow once again. His knuckles paw at his nose again and he sniffles. “But that does sound like something high me would say.” He relents after a moment.

“You’re not really known to lie when you’re high, babe.” Jessie points out but shrugs as he unwraps his Big Mac. “Thanks for dinner though. I love you.” He says softly and takes a sip of his sprite.

Hale pouts a little, knowing Jessie was right about the lying, but resigned to sniffling as he unwrapped his spicy chicken sandwich. “I love you too, punk.” He murmured, taking a bite.

It was then that Hale realized what a fool he was for ordering spicy chicken. After only the first two slow and uninterested bites his nose began to run even worse. His sniffled more frequently and half way through had to put down his sandwich to sneeze again.

“Hiih-!” Hale’s nostrils flared and he hitched with urgency, gripping the steering wheel for support. “Ehht’TxXhew! HeISHXXew! Eh-hiih-! Heh? HexXT’ShEW! IpTSHEW!” He groaned, face still tucked into his elbow as snot clung to his inner arm and nose. “Uh- Jes? Cad I habe a dapkid?” he asked awkwardly, cringing at how raw and congested his voice was already sounding.

Jessie had been staring dumbfounded at Hale, mouth still full of half chewed food as he’d watched him explode into the small fit. Christ if this was how it was going to be when Hale got sick, Jessie wasn’t going to last a full day without needing five minutes alone to find some relief. “Huh?” He said finally as he processed Hale had said something to him, chewing the rest of his mouthful and swallowing. “What was that?”

“Uh-” Hale waved a hand towards the fast food bag a little more urgently. “Dapkid. The- paper. Thi’gs.” He tried to explain in case Jessie hadn’t understood him with his nose clogged.

“Oh!” Jessie shot down to grab some napkins for Hale and set his food aside as he scooted across the bench seat to take Hale’s arm. “Relax, baby. I’ve got you.” He urges and presses the napkin carefully to Hale’s face and arm. “Just turn towards me and blow.”

Hale seemed utterly mortified by what Jessie was offering to do. “Jes- fugk… just-“ But he suddenly didn’t have much choice in the matter as the tickle in his sinuses flared once again. “IiihxXtShEEW!” He turned to bury his face in the napkin that had tickled his sensitive nostrils on the approach. “Shid- uhm sorry, Jes, I-”

Jessie’s pupils were blown wide and excited, but he tried to keep himself composed despite the blood rushing south. “It’s okay. You’re my boyfriend. I wanna take care of you when you’re si-” The look on Hale’s face made him switch tactics. “Don’t feel well.” He gently swiped up the mess from Hale’s face.

“But- dabd it, Jes. I’b gross. I- Look, I dod’t get sick ofted but whed I do… it sucks. It’s gross add sdotty add-” All the talking was irritating Hale’s throat more, making it tickle and scratch and causing him to cough into his previously sneezed upon elbow. “Ugh…”

Jessie sighed and swallowed hard, knowing it was now or never. “Hale…” He said softly, sounding very much like he was about to have one of their serious conversations. “You’re not gross-”

“Jes, cobe the fuck od-”

“Shut up a minute and let me talk before I lose my nerve.” Jessie snapped and then took a breath. “Sorry. I just- I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you for months and I- I just- I always chicken out and I can never get the words to come out of my mouth and I’m just- Oh my god I’m rambling.” He dropped the crumpled, soiled napkin on the seat to cover his face with both hands. “Shit. Fuck. Fuck…”

Hale sniffled thickly and reached out to gently take Jessie’s wrists and guide his hands down away from his face. “Talk to be? What’s goi’g od?”

“I like…” Jessie tried to start, avoiding Hale’s gorgeous hazel eyes as he tried to muster back up the courage again. “I like your sneezes…” He whispered out and tried to pull away before Hale could regard him with disgust.

For a moment, the car was silent until Hale sniffled softly again but still thicker than it had been an hour ago. “You’re serious?” he asked softly and groaned softly. “Shit. Jes… you really beed this scared to tell be that?”

Jessie scoffs, “Of course I have! It’s weird! It’s embarrassing! It’s-”

But Hale cut him off, “Probably the bost adorable thi’g I’ve learded about you to date.”

And just like that Jessie fell into a stunned silence for a good minute. Eventually, he found his voice again and spoke. “So, you don’t hate me? Or think I’m fucked up?”

Hale made a surprised noise, something between a snort and a scoff that just seemed to irritate his throat and he turned away to cough roughly again. “D’no, I dod’t hate you or thigk you’re fucked up. Whoever did, I’b godda kill ‘eb.” He snarled, knowing damn well Jessie wouldn’t say something like that unless he had been given a reason to think it.

“Down boy.” Jessie soothed playfully, knowing Hale could get easily riled up for a fight under the best of circumstances. Let alone when he was sick and cranky. “They don’t matter anymore. What matters is you and that cold you seem to be getting, hun.”

Another gurgling sniffle escaped Hale and he grimaced at himself. “D’not sigk.” He replies stubbornly, the congestion only getting worse. “Cad’t get sigk. I- cad’t.”

And it was only then that Jessie realized this was another something tied to the years under his father’s thumb while living in Alaska. “Oh… oh sweetheart…” He whispered and moved Hale’s uneaten food out of his lap so he could move himself into Hale’s lap instead. “It is okay to get sick. It’s normal to get sick. It’s natural. It happens to everyone. Hell, you’ve seen me sick plenty.” He pointed out and frowned.

“It’s fide whed you’re sigk, but I-” Hale tried to start, and Jessie cut him off with a kiss to the lips that made him squirm. “Jes!”

“Well, if you’re not sick then I’ll be fine.” Jessie teased a little but did lift a hand to cup Hale’s face. “You, Hale Hawthorn, are allowed to get sick. You are allowed to be vulnerable. Especially with me if you want to be…” He reassures him quietly.

Another sniffle came from Hale who searched Jessie’s beautifully soft, endearing brown eyes for a few moments. “Fugk…” He whispered and leaned in to kiss Jessie again, figuring it was already too late. His idiot boyfriend had kissed him and with Jessie’s damn near nonexistent immune system he’d been doomed since being stuck in the car with Hale sneezing.

Jessie moaned softly into the kiss as Hale initiated this time. His mind and heart were racing. Hale didn’t hate him, he thought his stupid kink was cute, and he was getting to kiss his beautiful sick boyfriend.

“J-Jeheh…Jes, bove-“ Hale suddenly pulled back from the kiss, his pink nostrils flaring as he geared up for a sneeze. Though Jessie just wrapped his arms around Hale’s neck and for a brief moment Hale looked panicked before he couldn’t manage to hold back the tickle any longer.

“HiiXTShew! Heh- EehXTsh! NghXxtsh! Ah- oh f-fugk… ode bore- HeHXTXSH!” Hale ducked his head against Jessie’s shoulder to sneeze, the last one shaking them both and rocking the truck slightly. “Uhb… Jes, I deed-”

He pressed a napkin into Hale’s hand and then gently ran his fingers through his boyfriend’s long, soft hair. “You… are the absolute worst. You’ve never talked mid sneezing before; you did that for me.” He accused, sounding both shocked and amused.

“Well, it looks like it worgked.” Hale replied, sounding congested but amused and then Jessie let out a gasp as he felt Hale’s palm press against the tent in his still soaked jeans. “Jesus, Jes, why didd’t you tell be about this sooder if it gets you this wou’d ubp?”

Even now Jessie’s face was an utter scarlet color, and his heart was still pounding from having Hale sneeze against him like that and the power behind the last one. “Too shy. Too scared…” He admits softly.

Hale briefly kisses Jessie’s lips again as he lifts his head. “You dever habe to hide frob be, Jes…” he said quietly. “I’ll always lobe all of you. Add this- shit, Jes, this is really cute. You really like by sdeezes?” He seemed more in disbelief that Jessie could like his sneezes rather than just sneezing in general.

For a brief moment, Jessie wondered what the hell his life had become and then he let out a breathless little laugh. “Yes, baby, I love your sneezes. Fuck, you get me so riled up-” And there it was, the southern accent Jessie tried so hard to hide.

A shit eating grin spread across Hale’s face, and he sniffled thickly, “Howdy, Texas.” Hale replied in his best imitation of a southern accent. “You wadda bosey od hobe, partder?” He kept trying but the congestion dulled the effect, and he ended up coughing softly into his elbow. “Urgh, sorry, Jes. Just teasi’g…”

Jessie was smiling adoringly at his absolute goof of a boyfriend. “You’re so mean to me.” He jokes with a laugh. “I try so hard to hide that accent. And I’ve gotten very good at it thank you very much.”

“Who ever said you had to hide it?” Hale challenged and raised a brow at Jessie, sniffling some more. He rubbed his knuckles against his nose again and grunted. “But we should fidish eati’g add thed go hobe. I’b exhausted.” He admits softly in his quiet, congested baritone.

A soft hum of sympathy left Jessie and he reached up to touch Hale’s cheek, “Do you want me to drive us home, alpha?”

Hale smiled a little at the term of endearment and shook his head, “I thigk I’ll be alright. Hobe is odly adother twedty bidutes.”

Jessie sighed and handed Hale some more napkins, “As adorable as you sound right now, you need to blow your nose. I could barely understand what you just said.”

With a little pout on his face Hale takes the napkins and readies one to blow his nose. He groans afterwards at the relief and grabs the empty McDonalds bag to use as a trash can for his used napkins. “This better?” He asked Jessie, seeking approval.

“Much better.” Jessie said with a thumbs up and moved off of Hale’s lap to give him his food back and pick up his own to keep eating. “I expect you to finish that. You need the energy to keep your strength up.”

Another pout crossed Hale’s face, already sniffling again. “Do I have to?” He picks up some fries and starts to eat despite his protests.

“Now I know you’re sick. You never turn down food.” Jessie says seriously and scarfs down the rest of his burger to scoot over so he’s good and close up against Hale’s side. “Is your stomach alright? Do you want some of my sprite? That could help?”

A sigh slipped from Hale as Jessie went all in on caretaking mode when he started to refuse food. “Jes- breathe. I’m fine. Not dying. I pro-hiih- pro… HiixtSHEW!” Jessie had snatched up a napkin and pressed it to Hale’s nose to catch the sneezes so he wouldn’t sneeze all over his food.

“EhhTXxShew! H-heh… HeTXXSha! Hiih’XXTshEW!” Hale was absolutely red in the face from sneezing into Jessie’s hand holding the tissue. “Was that uhb… good for you?” he asked almost nervously.

Something like a shocked laugh bubbled out of Jessie and he nodded, “Holy fuck, Hale…” He breathed out excitedly and gave another excited laugh and sort of bounced in his seat. “I love you more than words can say.”

[nobedofroses]

December 27

pairing: Marcus Moreno x reader

warnings: fluff and lead up to smut (as usual)

words: 653

a/n: more sweet Marcus bc duh

Last, Full List, Next, More Marcus

🏔🏔🏔

Marcus was usually up and out of the house before you. And he normally scraped off your car because of this, just a more on time and well-planned person in general. So today, when you had to leave first, you didn’t even think about your own car. It meant a frantic scrape off of yours and guilty looks at Marcus’ car because you knew you didn’t have enough time to do it completely. 

Quickly, you swept it off and then, at the last moment, used your finger to write “I love you” in the ice. You still felt bad as you drove away, but it was better than nothing. 

As soon as you got to work, you texted him an apology for not scraping off his car and about half an hour later you got a response telling you not to worry about it and he liked your message and loved you too. 

But you still couldn’t help feeling in the wrong. 

___

Eight hours later, you were calling out for help as you entered the house because there was no way you could actually carry everything you had in your arms. 

“Marcus! Can you come help me, please?” you yelled, hoping he’d be able to hear you wherever he was in the house. And if not him, hopefully Missy would come help anyway. 

But you didn’t have to worry because he was rushing over to you already, a look of slight panic on his face. You felt a fresh wave of guilt that you worried him. 

“Everything’s okay, sweetie, it’s just really heavy,” you told him hurriedly, thankful to see his face relax as he grabbed three of the bags you were holding. 

And then he resettled everything in his hands and grabbed the fourth. You breathed a thank you and watched his biceps as he walked ahead of you into the kitchen. It was nice to have a big, strong husband to help you whenever you asked. 

“What’s this, sweetheart? I thought we got all the groceries we needed the other day,” Marcus said as he put all the bags down on the island. 

You nodded, but didn’t quite look him in the eye as you walked over to him and put your fingers through his belt loops, “We did, but this is for you to make up for not getting your windshield this morning.” 

Marcus huffed a laugh and touched your chin to get you to look at him, “Honey, that didn’t matter, I had plenty of time to do it before I left since I didn’t work in the morning. You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.” 

Looking up at him with sad eyes, you told him, “But it means so much to me that you do it, so I wanted to say thank you, too.” 

You were so sweet that Marcus had to take a second to kiss you, surprising himself and you by deepening it for a minute before he finally pulled away. 

Breathless, you said, “Wow, glad Missy didn’t walk in to interrupt that.” 

Marcus laughed, “She’s not here, she’s at Carlita’s.”

Your ears perked up when he said that and you pulled away from him, going over to the reusable grocery bags. 

“What are you doing?” Marcus asked curiously, a bit miffed that you pulled away when he wanted to kiss you again. 

“Just grabbing the ice cream to put away so it doesn’t melt,” you said casually, hoping Marcus caught your drift. 

His eyebrows raised, “Is that all the cold stuff?” 

“Mhmm.” Marcus joined you at the island and was the one to find the ice cream. He briefly thanked you for getting his favorite flavor, tossed it in the freezer, and then grabbed your hand, “C’mon sweetheart, why don’t I thank you in the bedroom?”

You laughed and squeezed his hand, excited to see just exactly how he planned to do that.

🏔🏔🏔

[presidentbungus]

the long-awaited(?) second third of this

Engie flicks some switch on the dashboard, and the sunroof opens, and Scout wonders how dislocated his bones might get if he calls it quits and jumps out onto the highway. “Scout,” Engie says, and Scout hisses deep through his teeth. “Look, the van ain’t that far. You just gotta get on top, an’ get in, and stop it.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t concede to this—“

“Consent."

“Whatever! I’m not doing it. Find someone else.”

Demo’s still rubbing the blood back into his arms. “You’re the only one who’ll fit through the sunroof, lad.”

“Sniper’s a freakin’ stick. Sniper’ll fit. It’s his van, make him go.”

Everyone looks at Sniper (who bares his teeth like a dog), and then looks back at Scout, and then Engie says: “Sniper ain’t flexible, son. He’d fall off the car in two seconds flat.”

Sniper seems like he takes issue with this, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

“So? It’s his van.”

“And it’ll be all of our problem if anything happens to it.” Sniper nods to this. “Look, Scout, we need ya. We do. And Sniper’ll owe you big.”

“You know what? Screw you guys.”

Scout clambers out of his seat, stepping onto the middle console, hoisting himself up out of the car. A burst of wind hits him and he’s not far enough out that it knocks him back but it startles him to hell. For a little while he just sits there, and doesn’t move, and can’t move, and then Demo squeezes his knee and starts to do that weird thing where he wiggles your kneecap around and it feels really weird and then Scout habitually leaps the rest of the way out of the car and hopefully kicks him in the process.

This is a very, very bad idea. He lurches down until his feet hit the hood and he braces his legs against the windshield, and he hears a faint voice in the wind—go down—so he pushes himself till his back is against the window and his feet dangle in front of the car.

Okay. Awesome. Now what? He looks back and Engie gives him a thumbs-up for no apparent reason and Demo’s already asleep somehow, and then he looks at the window on the back and it’s not that far away.

He can do this. He thinks of his ma or something, and realizes that’s stupid so instead he just thinks about getting back inside a car however he can. There’s the ladder wrapping round back the van—he might be able to grab it, if he’s careful…

He’s made jumps across… long things, before, probably. This can’t be that hard. He tries to peel himself from the windshield and finds absolute freakin’ resistance, so he reaches forward and grips the edge of the grill and tries to pull himself that way—and for just a moment everything goes white as he almost pulls too hard an’ goes spilling onto the pavement, but he realizes eventually he’s got hands on the ladder and he’s hanging almost in the air but he got it. He made it.

Something shatters above him an’ he almost falls off but—he stays on, because he’s a freakin’ professional, or something like that. Soldier’s fist sticks out of the window above him. Then Soldier’s head. Glass shards hit Scout’s pants. Solly’s grinning. Scout’s not remotely sure how his helmet’s still staying on.

“Is this a scheme?” Soldier says, somewhere in that weird halfway zone between really pissed off and just really enjoying himself. “I smell schemes like a bomb dog. Or a cat. Or a raccoon!”

Scout doubts this, but he can’t really say anything anyway in his position so he just clears his throat and half-shrugs and hopes something gets across.

“Raccoons are perfectly feasible substitutes for bomb-sniffing animals,” Soldier says, sounding a little teary, and then he stops talking after this for a very long time and is probably expecting a response.

“… Yes,” Scout says. “I… agree. Could I, um…” Man is this the worst. “Could you stop? Please?”

“Stop what? We’re stopping the communists.”

“Awesome.” Scout looks down at the ground and then looks up when he starts finding it hard to contain the contents of his stomach. “Stop the van. So I can get into the van.”

Here he lights up—like this is the best freakin’ thing he’s heard all day. “You… want to… join my platoon?”

There’s some kinda noise behind Scout but if they need something from him at this point they’ve lost out. He doesn’t bother to look back. “Yes. I want to join your freakin’ platoon. Stop the van.”

“Is this a—“

“It’s not a freakin’ scheme, Solly.”

Somebody behind him says ‘Scout’, maybe.

“Very well then,” he says, “I will be back momentarily.”

“Great.” Scout tries to pull the rest of his body onto the ladder but his legs don’t move from stretched across the hood of the car, so maybe he’ll put a damper on that now.

“Scout, ravine!” They’re still yelling. Engie’s slamming on the front of the window. “Hurry up, Scout!”

“What?” He can’t really look back, but he guesses it doesn’t really matter. “What’re you—“

“The bloody cliff, lad,” Demo says, and Scout cranes his neck around the side of the van, maybe the green was ravine, and the road continues for a little bit in front of them and then is not there anymore.

That is not the horizon that is a cliff and they are coming up on it very fast and the entire world tilts for a second as Scout realizes his feet are on the bottom rung of the ladder—and he dares to take a glance behind him for just a second, pretty sure the screaming he’s hearing is his own, and—

“You ASSHOLES!” The truck’s stopped, they stopped it while he was half fucking hanging off of it, Engie’s mournfully stepping out of it, and the van is still very much going what the goddamn hell is Solly doing in there, and Scout knows he’s gonna die. This is it. Those douchebags abandoned him and now he’s gonna fall and die and it’s all their fault and he manages to force his hand off of the first rung, move it to the next one, pull himself up—almost just his body moving on its own, but he looks up at the window and realizes he can probably squeeze through it if he got up there. His entire body’s on fire. One hand after another. And after a little bit he reaches up and finds it flattens out, there's no more ladder, and he reaches to the side and finds the windowsill and grips it. There is still glass on it. It's too late to pull his hand back. Ow.

Cranes his neck over, swallows, and realizing there is no way in hell he is going to fit through that tiny little box.

Looks through the window, sees Pyro sitting on the table pressing the buttons on a saxophone, and up near the driver's seat--well, not only does Solly seem to be completely covered head-to-toe in peanut butter, that must be all the brown stuff smeared everywhere, but he's also completely fucking buck naked, except for the slightly brown-stained helmet swinging on his head.

Great. So awesome. Scout watches him yell something at Pyro, and Pyro looks right at Scout through the window and yells back, and Scout is going to fucking die, and Solly crouches down by the pedals and reaches out and Scout screams as everything suddenly flips sideways.

[weirdgirlcroix]

Blacktober 2022, Day 13: Ghost (Oops!)

Bucking the trend of posting ridiculously early by posting 4 days late. This one's about a totally different set of ocs but it takes place in the same AU. Content warning for some death mentions, although the tone of the story's pretty lighthearted. The next chapter is right here.

Dimitri’s life was eternally easy. He’d had a few rough patches lately, but they’d all been smoothed out and now he was living large. He’d decided to return to college, and he was getting a microbiology degree. Maybe he’d get a doctorate if he really felt like it, but it was too soon to think that far ahead. He was just a sophomore at NDC University, and it was a Friday night. Right now his only plan was to meet up with a few friends at the bar and let loose.

He had multiple cars, but finding parking in this crowded city was a hassle so he took the bus. The sun had already set, and there was no one else at the stop. The yellow light above his head flickered incessantly, like it was speaking jumbled Morse code. Dimitri figured it needed a new bulb. There was a sign next to him with a faded map of various bus routes. He was taking the blue line, which was easy to remember since it was his favorite color. The blue line zig-zagged through the map of the city like it was dodging a bullet. It was a long route, which meant he had a long ride ahead of him. Hopefully he wouldn’t fall asleep and miss his stop.

Dimitri checked the time on his phone: 8:09 PM. The bus was running late; it should’ve arrived five minutes ago. He glanced up and noticed a young woman standing beside him. He hadn’t noticed her arrival in the few seconds it took to check his phone, but some people were just naturally quiet. The woman was white, and she had straight red hair that faded to blonde. She was wearing a warm, fuzzy jacket even though it was late summer and her hands were stuffed in her pockets. She glanced nervously between Dimitri and the street, like she was afraid that something was about to happen.

“Public transportation can be really inconvenient, huh?” Dimitri asked, hoping to lighten the mood. He was no stranger to making small talk and he didn’t mind it in the slightest.

The woman did, apparently, and she jumped like she didn’t realize Dimitri could speak. She was a few inches shorter than him, and her short stature combined with her gray jacket made her reminiscent of a frightened mouse. “Oh! Yes, it is! Or, it can be!”

Dimitri smiled and yawned. The boredom of waiting for the bus was getting to him. “Hopefully when the bus finally comes I’ll be awake.”

The woman laughed awkwardly and gave him a shaky thumbs-up. “I’ll be sure to wake you up, then. Good luck!”

Dimitri nodded and went back to looking at his phone. Ten minutes later, he could hear the low rumble of a loud engine approaching. The bus was just down the street now. The redhead looked more nervous than ever.

“Um, do you know if that’s the blue or purple line? I can’t really tell from here," she meekly admitted. “Maybe you can check for me? I’m new around here, and I’m nervous about messing everything up…”

“Sure.” Dimitri knew for a fact it was the blue line bus, but it never hurt to check. He stepped closer to the curb and squinted at the rapidly approaching bus. The flashing sign above the windshield bore the words BLUE LINE in golden letters. He turned around to tell the redhead, but the first thing he saw was her running towards him, arms raised. Before he could react, she pushed him into the street, directly into the bus’s path.

Dimitri was so shocked, his soul left his body — literally. He was now a translucent blue astral projection floating above himself. His body lay in the middle of the street like it had already been hit. Luckily, the bus driver had good reflexes and had already begun slowing down. He managed to bring the bus to a screeching halt just before it hit Dimitri’s body. He and some concerned passengers scrambled off of the bus to check on Dimitri, took one look at his projection, and panicked. Dimitri was about to return to his body to calm them down, but the redhead dashed into the street and scooped it up first.

“David, are you with me? Oh God, I'm so sorry!” She turned to the crowd and explained, “He’s my cousin! I live close by, I’ll take care of him!” Without another word, she ran off with the body. The projection turned to the crowd and shrugged, unsure of what was going on, and followed after her. There was nothing stopping him from returning to his body and reawakening in her arms, but his interest was officially piqued and he wanted to see what she was up to.

She carefully put Dimitri’s body in the trunk of her car and started it up. As a projection Dimitri could pass through solid objects, so he passed through the car’s passenger door and sat down. He waved a hand in front of the woman’s face, just to make sure she could see him.

“Yes, I totally see you!” The woman confirmed. “Try not to distract me, I’m excited and busy!”

As someone who was prone to falling asleep while driving, Dimitri couldn’t fault her for wanting to avoid distractions, so he let the woman focus. She took him to an apartment complex near Dimitri’s college, one that attracted plenty of upperclassmen residents. Dimitri wondered if she was also a student.

The woman turned left into a small parking lot in the back and took Dimitri’s body inside as quickly as possible. She opened the door to an apartment on the second floor, where another woman was sitting at the kitchen table, textbook and journals spread in front of her. Dimitri sat down across from her and glanced at her notes as the redhead laid his body on the floor. She appeared to be studying something theology-related — a religious studies major, maybe? — and she was so focused on her work that she hardly glanced at her roommate.

The woman pushed her roommates’ belongings to the side, laid Dimitri’s body on the table, and declared in a sing-songy voice, “Katsura-a-a-a! I brought dinner!” Apparently she and Katsura were cannibals.

The studious woman looked between the redhead, the body and the projection with stern eyes shielded by round, gold-colored glasses. She had tan skin, a black bob cut and a faint mustache.

Dimitri expected Katsura to say something, but she remained silent, processing the situation. The redhead spoke again to fill in the silence. “I was gonna take the bus and pick someone further away, but there was nobody at the stop this time and the opportunity was so tempting!”

Katsura put her pencil down and rose to her feet. Dimitri saw that she was easily the tallest person in the room. She wore an oversized, baby blue sweater and loose khakis that complemented her slender figure. She placed her hands on the redhead’s shoulders, bending down so she was at her eye level, and said in a deep, intense voice, “Tilly. I love you. However, you are stupid.”

Tilly looked flabbergasted. “Huh?! I mean, I know, but what did I do this time?”

Katsura poked Dimitri’s body and took his pulse. “He is not dead. Simply asleep.”

“But his ghost is right there!” Tilly aimed a finger at Dimitri’s projection, who was watching the conversation with an amused expression on his face.

“That is a projection,” Katsura corrected. She picked up her textbook and flipped to a different page about out-of-body experiences. There was an illustration of an astral projection that closely resembled Dimitri: the figure had the same hazy appearance, like the wind could disperse them at any moment. The only real difference was that they were watermelon green instead of blue.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” Tilly said over and over, shaking her head. “I messed up! You asked for someone who was dead already!”

“It doesn’t matter. We will deep clean the apartment twice this time.” Katsura rolled up her sleeves, revealing azure scales that were slowly spreading across her arms. Her white-painted nails turned into sharp, golden claws, and her irises shifted from black to yellow with narrow pupils.

Dimitri decided now would be the best time to return to his body. He wasn’t so go-with-the-flow that he was going to let himself die. He stood up, leaned into his body and sank through layers of fabric, skin, and flesh. His breaths grew deeper, his eyes fluttered open, and he woke up at last. “Thanks for having me, but I’m actually not in the mood for being eaten. Katsura, let me know if you’ve got a test on astral projection — I might be able to help.”

Katsura ignored Dimitri and seized him by the neck, claws digging into his throat. She looked a little surprised, like she hadn’t expected Dimitri to remember what he’d witnessed as a projection. “You are an experienced projector. I will deal with your ghost.”

Dimitri raised his hands in innocence. He still had his signature cool smile, but it was a little tighter than usual; he wasn’t a fighter, and he wasn’t sure he could take a reptilian humanoid in a fight. “You don’t need to deal with anything if you keep me alive, which you’d definitely be better off doing.”

Katsura narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

Katsura asked a good question. As far as she was concerned, he really was just some guy, except for one thing: his family name. He didn’t like throwing that kind of weight around when he didn’t need to, but it was useful for getting out of pinches like this. He relaxed a little, confident that his move would work. “I’m actually a Lyubimov. There might be a couple of articles about me.”

Tilly cocked her head. “What's a Lyubimov?”

Katsura looked thoroughly unimpressed. “I do not care for celebrities.”

It looked like Dimitri had some explaining to do. “I’m not a real celebrity. Have you heard of the Lyubimov Corporation? We’ve got a big office building downtown.”

Tilly’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh, I do remember that! I ignored the logo on it because I thought it looked ugly, but the skyscraper itself is so cool! I’m an architectural engineering major and I was stunned by how well it was designed! I mean, usually I prefer retro designs, but— Wait, this isn’t the focus of the conversation, is it?”

“It is not.” Katsura took out her phone with her free hand to look up the corporation. “There is an article naming one Dimitri Lyubimov as the heir. Is that you?”

“Yep, although I’m actually fifth-in-line to the throne, so to speak. It’s a common misconception — most of us keep to ourselves,” Dimitri explained. He came from old money, and his family had long grown out of flaunting their wealth outside of the occasional Tweet or Instagram post.

Katsura’s grip on Dimitri’s neck loosened. “In essence, you are extremely rich.”

“Right on the money.” Dimitri glanced at Katsura’s hand and kept smiling.

“But that doesn’t, like, mean anything. It’s not like you’re shielded by a wall of money or something,” Tilly countered.

That gave Dimitri an idea. “Well, not literally. I’m guessing you have a pattern of killing people for your… girlfriend, right? Are the cops on your tail yet?”

Tilly and Katsura exchanged a glance. “Not yet,” Katsura answered honestly.

“Soon, they will be. To tell the truth, my criminal record isn’t squeaky clean either, but you know why I’m not in prison? Money.” Dimitri answered his rhetorical question with complete confidence. His entire upbringing had prepared him for moments like this, when you had to carve out a good deal for yourself with self-assuredness alone.

Tilly still seemed skeptical. “I don’t know about that. I mean, if the police really cared they’d be knocking on our door already.”

“You ‘killed’ me in front of a dozen witnesses." Dimitri held up three fingers and bluffed, “In fact, I bet an officer will show up in three… two… one…”

Just as he lowered his last finger, the door shook with a few rumbling knocks. Katsura put Dimitri down, shifted to her human form, and sat back down as if she’d been doing homework the entire time. Tilly rocked on her heels and whistled a cheesy pop tune to herself. Dimitri brushed himself off and swung the door open. He was greeted by a pair of beefy cops who glared down at him, arms crossed and backs straight like they owned the place.

“Good evening, officers. What brings you to our apartment on this fine Friday night?”

The officer who’d knocked on the door looked Dimitri up and down and glanced around the apartment, unimpressed by his sweet voice. “We heard about a possible attempted assault at the bus stop down the street. The suspect matched the description of your friend over there,” he said, nodding in Tilly’s direction. Tilly paused mid-rock and whistled a horrified dun-dun-dun-dunnn.

“Really? I didn’t hear anything about that. And honestly, I doubt you did either.”

“Excuse me?”

Dimitri pulled out his wallet and thumbed through the bills he had tucked in it, just to make sure he had enough. He was in a high enough tax bracket that he didn’t need to carry physical money around, but he always kept some on him just in case. He took out a crisp hundred-dollar bill and offered it to the officer. “Have you forgotten why you’re here yet?”

The officer swatted Dimitri’s hand away. “What? You can’t bribe me with just a hundred dollars.”

“How about two hundred? Three hundred? Four? Maybe you and your colleague can have five hundred each?” Dimitri kept producing bills until the officer’s frown turned into a face of resignation. He snatched the money, split it up with his partner, and stomped off.

Dimitri shut the door and spun around to face Tilly and Katsura. Tilly’s jaw had dropped and Katsura nodded slightly in acknowledgment. “And that’s why you should keep me alive.”

“You seem valuable,” Katsura admitted, “but why are you so eager to help?”

“Because I’ve also roomed with a carnivore before. I don’t think eating people is the best idea, but I don’t blame you for wanting to. Finding good prey is difficult these days anyway, right?”

Tilly shook her head and crossed her arms in the shape of an X. “Wait, don’t get it twisted! Katsura’s great at finding food, but she struggles with actually getting it.”

Katsura dragged out a sigh and slumped in her chair. “My executive function is… bad. I am working on it.”

“So I’m helping her out in the meantime!” Tilly wagged her finger and added, “And before you say anything, I’m not crazy! I just really love my girlfriend.”

Dimitri gave Tilly a double thumbs-up. “That’s valid. Love wins, am I right?”

Katsura nodded sagely in agreement. “Love does indeed win.”

Tilly fingergunned Dimitri in response. “Yeah, totally! Also, I’m so sorry about dragging you all the way out here. I should give you something to make up for it! Like, I made dinner tonight! It’s this su-u-u-uper good casserole — let me get it from the fridge.” Tilly skipped off towards the kitchen without a second thought.

Dimitri glanced at Katsura and saw her rapidly shaking her head, mouthing, “She CANNOT cook.”

“No, thank you,” Dimitri started, wanting to save himself from a ruined appetite. “I actually originally planned to meet up with some friends tonight—”

“Uh, your original plans don’t matter! Where I’m from, no one refuses an act of hospitality.” Tilly had returned holding a tray of half-finished green casserole. Dimitri couldn’t tell what the “green” was supposed to be for the life of him.

“And where might that be?” He asked, inching towards the door.

Tilly caught on to what he was doing immediately. She set the tray on the counter and bolted between Dimitri and the door, a dangerously excited look in her eyes. “Northeastern Virginia! C’mon, sit down while I make you a plate!”

Dimitri resigned to his fate and sat down at the table. The casserole smelled expired, even though Tilly had reportedly cooked it yesterday. Katsura excused herself, saying, “I will get some dinner that is actually dead. Goodbye.” She speedwalked out of the door, leaving Dimitri alone with Tilly. He maintained a smile and mentally prepared himself for a bad time.