#Paint n Pickup (Retriever) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

clairdelunelove · 4 years ago

Text

AOT Valentine’s Day Headcanons

eren jaeger x reader, jean kirschstein x reader, armin arlert x reader, levi ackerman x reader, erwin smith x reader, porco galliard x reader, genderneutral!reader

genre: insane amounts of fluff, comfort

warnings: slight cursing, insane amounts of fluff

synopsis: small scenarios of what some aot boys would do for you during valentine’s day.

a.n: enjoy the lovely day with some of these cuties! remember to take care of yourselves and know you’re all loved <3

eren jaeger

this man would definitely try to cook a nice dinner for you

especially if you’re having a hard week

expect him to be researching the best recipe a couple days beforehand

“what are you doing, eren?”

he’ll glance up and nonchalantly mutter, “nothing, babe” while scrolling through fancy recipes

on valentine’s day it’s his time to shine

waits for you to leave the house and go to work before leaving to pick up the necessary ingredients

gets in a verbal argument with a store clerk if he doesn’t find the exact name of what he’s searching for

“are you deaf? I said I needed a bag of shrimp”

“and we have that, sir. you said you needed a bag of prawns right?”

“it’s shrimp! how many goddamn times do I need to repeat myself?”

gets home with bags full of groceries and gets to work

slowly chops all the vegetables and curses when he nicks his finger with the edge of the knife

puts too much oil in the frying pan and tosses everything in there

scrolls through his phone while waiting

spends fifteen minutes ogling at his screensaver

of course it’s a pic of you

ends up burning everything he made

orders takeout, plates it real nice, and attempts to brush off that it was his cooking once you’re home

“this is so good, babe!” you exclaim while lifting the fork to your mouth, “tastes like the order we usually get at that one French restaurant.”

“glad you like it, baby”

cue his nervous sweating

jean kirschstein

simp energy!

makes previous reservations to take a painting class with you

tells you to dress warm before the two of you head out

so! happy!

has the goofiest smile on the actual date

tucks your hand in his pocket while walking to the art studio

spends the whole time checking over at your easel

audibly approves of everything you do, even if you’re drawing a line

“wow, it looks great sweetheart”

scrunches up his brows while concentrating

listens to the art instructor say to paint something that they love

takes it quite literally

paints you

tries to get each pretty feature about you

swipes his hand over his cheek and gets paint on it

literally sweats out of pure focus and won’t want to leave until he’s done

“jean, babe, we gotta go”

“five more minutes please. almost done”

five min turns into five hours

jean’s painting of you is surprisingly amazing and he’s even lowkey impressed

has a random stranger take a pic of you and him together while holding up the paintings

treats you to an expensive restaurant afterwards and pays

full stomachs = happy couple

pulls you close while walking through the downtown streets

whispers cheeky pickup lines into your ear and presses a kiss against your head

best. day. ever.

connie springer

did you say it was valentine’s day?

shit

definitely forgets about the whole holiday but is quick enough to put something together for you

you both aren’t super invested in sappy holidays but connie tries each time

the morning of, he’ll run to the nearest shops and try to pick out a bouquet of flowers for you

everything’s sold out

will curse his luck and literally sprint out of there

kicks himself for not planning in advance as he’s walking up the driveway of your house

notices the neighbor’s beautiful flowers

idea!

he will dash through each neighbor’s yard and pick their flowers so a mismatched bouquet rests in his hand

“happy valentine’s day, my favorite goofball!”

“thanks, babe,” your wide eyes stare at the uncoordinated bouquet in your hands, “I love it”

cue the mud that falls to the floorboards

you scold connie about the dirt that’s still stuck on the roots since it dirties the floors

he’ll take you out to watch a comedy show too!

whole evening of laughter while his arm is wrapped around your shoulder

you were both glowing in happiness (along with having a sore stomach) afterwards

wraps his sweater around you since the evening was getting chilly

drives you home and gives you the sweetest kiss

he’ll pull away with a, “wow” while being completely dazed out

let’s you take his jacket home and texts you corny jokes the whole night

Maro Bott

desperately! wants you to be his valentine

almost cries tears of joy when you accept his confession which only makes you confused

“Marco, sweetie, we’ve been dating for two years”

“doesn’t matter, love”

shows up extra early with a bouquet of roses

“happy valentine’s day!”

expect him to walk inside the house and look through all your cabinets for a vase

helps you pick out an outfit because he has the “perfect date” planned

causes you to be wrapped in bundles of clothing

won’t tell you where he’s taking you once the two of you are in the car

“an,” you tilt your head and albeit a bit puzzled, “ice rink?”

“time for some ice skating!”

laces up your skates before he even does his own so he makes sure it’s secure

will ask multiple times if your feet are comfortable

once he has his skates on, it’s game over

can’t walk without holding onto your hand for a couple moments

“this is harder than I thought,” he confesses with a nervous grin

gets on the ice and falls

hard

the thump causes everyone to look at the two of you and he only responds with, “oh look (Y/n)! I’ve fallen for you! Get it?”

undoubtedly makes you giggle and onlookers awe

gets the hang of ice skating and teaches you how if you’re scared of falling

makes excuses to pull you close and sweetly kiss your cheek

“it’s part of the learning process”

the day was as sweet as Marco is

Armin Arlert

bookstore date!

will definitely plan in advance because he wants everything to be perfect

expect a good morning text that’s a whole paragraph long <3

still asks you, “can I be your valentine?” even if you are both dating

plan on wearing matching outfits for the day

light academia style of white turtlenecks, beige pants, and cardigans

will take a selfie with you and set it as his lock screen so he can awe at it every second

“you’re breathtaking”

intertwines your fingers with his when you’re holding hands

swings it while walking

lots of attention once the two of you step inside the bookstore

constant whispering about the matching outfits and innocent affection

he’ll lead you to the back of the store and spend the entire day there

sits on the floor, leaning against the wooden bookcase, and stroking your hair while you’re laying on his lap

silence = peace

piles of books around you both

“how’s the plot, love?”

will ask that when his head is resting on your thigh and inwardly loves how comfy you are

buys all the books you want and waves away your credit card when you try to pay

“consider it repayment for spending the day with me”

holds the tote bag of books the whole time despite it being heavy

stops by the cafe to buy cups of hot chocolate

notices a small amount of whipped cream on the corner of your mouth

chuckles and stops to literally lean down to press his lips against yours in order to wipe it off

whispers, “you’re so lovely, angel”

both of you will pull away with flushed faces and lovesick smiles

Levi Ackerman

“what’s this for, brat?”

frowns once he opens his front door and you’re standing there with a wide grin

“happy valentine’s day, dear! I wanted to watch a movie then-”

“yeah, yeah”

lets you in anyways

takes the large basket full of movies, snacks, and skincare out of your hands

sets it on the kitchen counter and you immediately pop a bag of popcorn into the microwave

your movements are quick as you’re scurrying around the kitchen retrieving bowls, plates, and napkins

levi watches you from the couch, inwardly pleased that you’re able to memorize the layout of his house since you’ve been over so many times

he’d never tell a soul though

movies with levi!

he won’t pay attention to the movie at all but still comments film mistakes

“he wasn’t even wearing that sweater in the previous scene”

“levi, honey, who even pays attention to that”

“people with eyes”

allows you to cuddle close to him but his fingers itch to bring you even closer

audibly groans when you move away to fetch something

“self care time!” you exclaim while holding up a pack of face masks

will not let you put one on him once he sees how silly they look

“please?”

“no,” he states, “they look fucking ridiculous”

does it anyways once your puppy dog eyes are on display

curses as you slick his hair back and put one on him

hates it and voices his opinion

but at the end of the day, he agrees with the saying, ‘happy wife, happy life’

and oh yes, you were going to be his wife one day

Erwin Smith

imagine sleeping in and waking up to breakfast in bed

pancakes, waffles, bagels, raspberry streusel muffins

and everything’s like

in the shape of a heart <3

turns on some classical, romance music

sweet candles that smell like vanilla = burning

that’s what this man would do

wakes up super early

determined to whip everything up pronto

folded all the laundry, cleaned the dishes, vacuumed the house

amazing

10/10 gentleman

“good morning, love”

edges the bedroom door open with his shoulder while holding a tray of delicious food

definitely still in casual wear clothes

a sweater and grey joggers that he wore to sleep

loves the smile on your face

says “happy valentine’s day” and presses a kiss on the back of your hand

sits on the edge of the bed while you eat

chuckles when you feed him

lets you though

brushes your hair back each time you take a bite to eat

amusingly shakes his head whenever you over-exaggerate a hum in delight

pleased smirks!

definitely tried to swipe whip cream over your cheek just to hear you giggle

it’s beautiful

watches the way the sunlight pours through the window and creates a glow on your face

serenity, calmness, and adoration

discreetly pinches himself to make sure he isn’t dreaming

wouldn’t want this day to end

Porco Galliard

“you doin’ anything today or what?”

will be the first text you get from him in the early morning

after a second passes, the little dots show up to indicate he’s typing again

“nvm. lemme take you out today”

shows up to your place unannounced and immediately notices what you’re wearing

“you’re wearing that? like for real?”

“is there something wrong with it?”

notices the panic in your eyes and immediately stutters

“nah, just,” he’ll bring his hand up to swipe at his noise while avoiding your gaze, “think you’ll be cold but you can wear my jacket or whatever.”

leads you to his muscle car and opens up the passenger door for you

surprisingly chivalrous for the day

drives throughout town to pick up stuff like a blanket, picnic basket, pre-made food, drinks

pays for it, of course, because he claims he’s the better man like that

“only scummy men let their partners pay”

spends the whole day driving around, hand on your thigh, while blasting your fav songs”

rolls the windows down so other drivers look your way

will also flip off anyone that suggestively gazes at you

loves when you belt out the lyrics and eagerly want him to join your singing session

rolls his eyes, “me? singing? gross.”

will sing 100% but only if you don’t call his bluff

pulls to the side of the road and sets up a romantic picnic spot nestled in an open field

drapes his jacket over your smaller physique and only mutters, “wear it before you catch a cold”

spends the evening star gazing, letting you rest your head on his chest while his hands are folded behind his neck

carries you back to the car once you’re asleep, snaps on your seatbelt, presses a kiss on your forehead, and mumbles, “thanks for lettin’ me take you out today, idiot.”

#eren x reader #eren jaeger #eren jaeger headcanons #jean kirschstein #jean x reader #jean kirschtein headcanons #armin aot #armin arlert #armin x reader #levi ackerman #erwin smith #porco headcanons #porco galliard #connie springer #connie x reader

274 notes · View notes

yurtletheturtlehenderson · 5 years ago

Text

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E8; Chapter Eight, The Mind Flayer - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

An unlikely hero steps forward when a deadly development puts the Hawkins Lab on lockdown, trapping Will and several others inside.

A/n: This series has blown up so much, I don’t know how to thank you guys! I love you all!!

Warnings: Domestic violence, and a homophobic slur. Ugh, just Billy's dad in general. jc, this guy sucks. If you feel you need to skip this scene altogether, I completely understand. I will place the usual marker [●●●] at the beginning and end so you can scroll quickly. Safe reading, loves!

||3rd Person POV||

As Hopper gazes into the inky darkness, a great unending bellow erupts from within the pit. The elevator cables are struck by something below, indicated by their sudden whip that fell into a dull vibrating blur and soft twang. Immediately, a slender grey claw erupts from the shadows digging into the concrete edge. Emerging after it, was the figure attached, the beasts they could barely make out on the live feed. The same monster from the previous year, that thing this damn lab unleashed unto El and her poor friends. Hopper couldn't believe his eyes or his piss poor luck. Seemingly, neither could Dr. Owens who had numbly stepped closer to the window, next to Hop.

"Mother of God."

With stilled silence, everyone watches, eyes trained on the creature not knowing what to expect. And upon first glance, neither does the mutant. It stalks forward. It's eyeless bud-shaped head inspecting the glass before it rises to its hind legs, placing it's front claws on the glass. On the opposite side, Hopper leans closer to the pane, brows furrowed and ears perked as he takes advantage of seeing this unknown species up close.

The advantage doesn't last long, however, when the mutant takes one glance at Hopper and Owens individually - as if sizing them up, frighteningly enough - and it lets out a foggy huff before ramming its now open head into the glass. The two men jump back alarmed as it continues this, each strike against the glass is with more and more force and aggression.

"It's... It's polycarbonate. It can't get through." Dr. Owens utters, shuffling back despite his words.

On cue, the four-legged Demogorgan split it's head, and a bone-chilling shriek pierced the air. The shrill cry carried through the air, bouncing off the walls and deep within the caverns, continuously feeding into itself. The echo was enough to worry everyone, that was until they saw the elevator cables begin to move once more. It was then they realized, it had not been an echo, but the voices of dozens of its siblings. And they were all scrambling up the walls, out of the pit, and to its aid.

"Mother Mary and Joseph," murmured the man at the coms.

Another screech and they all fell in line taking orders. Not a single creature hesitated, and it was only a matter of moments before the pristine, spotless glass was near shattering. Hundreds of webbing cracks painted the glass to a point the creatures became harder to see.

"You sure about that glass?" Hopper piped.

His face flushed, Owens steps back to the panel, knowing what has to be done.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The shrill alarm has reached the rest of the lab, bouncing off the cold white walls and alerting Bob and Mike.

"What the hell?" Bob asks, his protective grip on Mike feigning.

"We're too late," Mike realizes, voice grave.

"What?"

"We're too late!"

Mike escapes Bob's grip with ease, sprinting for Will's room where Joyce rises from her seat beside Will.

"What's going on?"

"We're under attack." Mike pants, face flushed.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"What's going on down there? Does anybody copy?"

The officer's voice echoes out of the speakers in the control room, though stifled by their panicked cries and the scuffle of their shoes on the floor as they run. Hopper is the last to exit, assuring everyone has made it out safely. The steel door slams shut just in the nick of time, no sooner does the splintered glass windows shatter into a thousand pieces, and the swarm floods in.

In the hall, Hopper and Owens flee with the other workers. That is until Owens finds a shortcut.

"Stairs, stairs!" He pants, shoving Hopper for the door. "Come on,"

The two men are able to safely retreat to the next floor, returning to the main floor. The same could not be said for the remainder of the team, who found themselves cornered in the elevator as the army broke free.

In Will's room, Mike spots the bottle of anesthesia and quickly snatches it up in his hands, turning to Joyce.

"We need to make Will sleep," He orders.

"What?"

"He's a spy! If he knows where we are, so does the Mind Flayer!"

Will sits up, his actions are suddenly frightened and hasty. He's furious. His once hazel eyes are almost completely black now. He quickly turns to Joyce and cries out.

"He's lying!"

"He killed those soldiers and he'll kill us, too!" Mike warned.

This only angered Will more, he shot up in his bed now fighting against Joyce's efforts to hold him down. He is screeching now, utterly infuriated and desperate as he fights against Joyce.

"He's lying! He's lying! HE'S LYING! HE'S LYING! HE'S LYING!"

The elevator has arrived on their floor, and when the designated guards arrive, the doors open revealing the several torn up bodies of the extraction team. The army of Demogorgan mutants don't hesitate on their newest targets, they stalk forward, their speed quickly climbing. In a flurry they scramble for their guns, shooting the evermoving targets as they pounce.

The gunfire echoes throughout the entire floor, including Will's room. Bob is at Will's bedside, aiding Joyce in restraining him, and he is the first to hear them.

"Those are gunshots!"

Everyone looks to the door, but their attention is quickly pulled back to Will who is still fighting.

"He's lying! HE'S LYING!"

Frightened, and short-fused, Joyce grips Will's arms.

"Okay, Will, Will, listen, listen. Do you know who I am?"

Will only looks dumbstruck, he looks at the woman before him, his body still half attempting to escape. At that moment, she knows Will is in there, but he has to fight for control.

"Do you know who I am?" She yells.

"You're..."

He falters, sending another crack through her heart as he searches his mind for her identity. And every moment seems to last an eternity, but when he finally spoke, she knew Will was losing his battle.

"You're... You're Mom."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she looks to Bob with a determination in her eyes. Her pain is turning to anger.

"Hold him down."

Bob complies as she retrieves the needle and vial from Mike. Will comes alive, his anger - the mind flayer's anger - erupts from his frame and he is kicking and screaming with every ounce of energy he can muster.

"No! NO! LET GO! NO! NO! LET ME GO! LET GO!"

She steps forward, needle in hand, and quickly pins his arm down. She knows it is the mind flayer's doing, but she can't help but see the look of terror in Will's eyes and feels a wave of guilt. But she does not stop.

"LET ME GO! LET ME GO-!"

"I'm sorry," she cooed, fighting to keep his arm down. "I'm so sorry."

"LET ME GO!"

Mike tries to cover his ears, Will's frightful and all-too frightening shrieks pierce his skull and heart. And he can't help but think, he knew now more than ever it was the Mind Flayer, not his best friend. The only other time he had seen him this angry - this threatened - was with Y/n.

The needle breaks his skin and not a moment sooner does his cries begin to die down, and from there, it is only seconds before he is completely subdued by unconsciousness. At that same moment, Hopper and Owens burst through to the door, to find an unconscious Will, and Joyce, needle in hand. They manage to put the pieces together when without warning, a thunderous crash and inhuman howl grab everyone's attention. Everyone turns to see the pair of oak doors at the end of the hall begin to crack and splinter, piece by piece falls to the floor with each forceful strike. The creatures have reached the main floor.

Hopper pales. "We gotta go. We gotta go,"

He spins on his heel, racing for Will's bed and he swiftly sweeps the boy's small frame up with ease. Joyce, Bob, and Mike follow, not without making off with more morphine before their haste escape. The new group makes it to the outer rim before they witness a pack of these creatures take down several lab employees just up ahead. Before they can flee from where they came, the sound of rapid gunfire comes first. They are forced to pilot away and out of the hall through a narrow doorway where they find themselves in one of the labs' surveillance rooms.

Owens is the last to enter, closing the door behind him and Bob is the first to take note of the chaos unfolding on the many screens.

"Oh, my god," he gasps, drawing everyone's attention to the screens.

Everyone stops to gape at the many images of scattered bodies sprinkled throughout the labs' otherwise empty halls. Every monitor displays the contorted figures of the otherworldly creatures stalking the halls, prowling. Hunting. The lab is overrun.

The fluorescence lights above their heads begin to flicker, and just as quickly, all power has been lost, the monitors first to go. Amidst the pitch back, the group huddles close as the strident battle cry of the swarm echoes through the darkness making one simple fact abundantly clear;

Hawkins Lab has officially become the hunting ground for the army of the Upside Down.

[●●●]

On the other side of town, Neil and Susan Hargrove pull into their driveway in a rusty '71 pickup. Stepping inside, placing her shopping bags onto the dining room, Susan calls out to her daughter and step-son.

"Hey, guys, we're home." Receiving no reply, she wanders down the hall in search of any sign of life. "Guys? Hello? Max?"

She reaches Max's room first, opening the door to find the room empty, save for the abandoned taped up skateboard, and the open window. The drapes dance in the wind, reflecting the soft yellow light from the girl's bedside lamp, and it was clear to her that the room had not been touched all evening. Attempting to stifle her growing concern, she steps forward and closes the sliding window shut disregarding the chill the autumn night brought.

Inside his room, heavy rock music blaring from his stereo, Billy takes a long and deep breath, letting the smoke of his third cigarette of the day fills his lungs. He bounces on the balls of his heels to the rhythm of the beat before his mirror as he preps himself for his night out. The moment is almost perfect had it not been for the persistent knocking on his door and the sound of his stepmother.

"Billy?"

"Yeah, I'm a little busy in here, Susan," He calls.

"Open the door," Bellows his father. "Right now."

Now his night was completely ruined.

Stuffing down his fear and anger, Billy marches across his room and throws open his door. As it always seemed to go, he found his father looking down on him, seething, and a troubled and anxious Susan at his side.

"What's wrong?"

"Why don't you tell us?" His father spits.

Billy shrugs, perturbed. "Because I don't know."

"We can't find Maxine," Susan says.

"And her window's open."

Billy looks away, hiding his inward sigh. Getting on his father's bad side was never a good thing. It was rare to come out on the other side without a welt or bruise or two. And Billy was always his favorite target. That is after his mother left the picture. Whatever hell Max had just cooked up, was more shit he'd have to pay.

"Where is she?"

Biting the bullet, Billy shrugs.

"I don't know,"

"You don't know?" Neil scoffs, rage quickly rising to the surface.

All Billy can do now is throw water on the fire, but he knows he's only buying moments.

"Look, I'm sure she just, I don't know, went to the arcade or something." He says, retreating into his room. "I'm sure she's fine."

Neil follows, swiping at his mouth, a habit of anger as he follows his son to his closet.

"You were supposed to watch her," He growls.

"I know, Dad. I was," Billy sighs, throwing on his coat. "It's just you guys were three hours late, and, well, I have a date."

Pulling his mullet out from under his coat, straightening out he shrugs. "I'm sorry, okay?"

His father crosses his arms, glaring at him as he gestures to his mirror. "So that's why you've been staring at yourself in the mirror-like some faggot instead of watching your sister?"

"I have been looking after her all week, Dad." Billy snaps. "Okay? She wants to run off, then that's her problem all right? She's thirteen years old. She shouldn't need a full-time babysitter. And she's not my sister!"

Billy steps forward, slamming the off button on his stereo. The music stops just as he feels the force of his father shoving him into the wall. Neil steps closer, his grip on Billy's jacket tightening.

"What did we talk about?" He growls.

His son does not answer, and his fist swings up to meet Billy's cheek. Susan looks away fearfully, unable to witness his beatings yet neglects to step in. Neil brings his hand near Billy's throat in an act to threaten him, his sign of warning.

"What did we... talk about?"

Billy swallows the urge to fight back, no matter how demanding and he has to spit out the words his father wants to hear.

"Respect and responsibility," He repeats, hating himself for the waver in his voice that his father always seemed to bring out in him.

His father nods. "That is right,"

He shoves Billy further into the bookshelf, the boy fights a wince as his spine digs further against the wood.

"Now, apologize to Susan,"

Billy takes a deep, shaky breath. The only thing keeping him from any act - any sign - of defiance is the fiery, hostile glare he is held under.

"I'm sorry, Susan," He says.

The woman shifts uncomfortably in the doorway. Fearful of anything she says, less it inflict more pain on Billy, or herself.

"It's okay, Neil," she eases. "really, I-"

"No," he roars, jostling his son once more. "it's not okay. Nothing about his behavior is okay."

He waves a stubby finger in Billy's face, reluctantly letting him go and stepping back once he felt assured the lesson had been instilled.

"But he's going to make up for it," He turns around to look in her frightened eyes. "He's gonna call whatever whore he's seeing tonight and cancel their date. And then he's gonna go find his sister. Like the good, kind, respecting brother that he is."

He returns his attention to his son, who stands frozen, tears misting his eyes.

"Isn't that right, Billy?" He steps forward at the boy once more, voice rising when he receives no reply. "ISN'T THAT RIGHT?!"

To the best of his ability, Billy swallows the lump in his throat, his voice hoarse. "Yes, sir."

The man sighs heavily, inching closer, head turned. "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you."

"Yes, sir."

Somewhat satisfied with Billy's response, his dark eyes return to Billy's, drilling holes with his threatening glare.

"Find Max." He orders.

Finally, he falls back, marching past his wife - who quickly steps out of his way - leaving a vulnerable and broken Billy behind. The door closes and only then does he let his tears fall in heavy streaks down his cheek. Expressing his emotions the only way he knows how, he chucks the nearest object - in this case, a cologne bottle - and it shatters at his feet. Another broken mess.

[●●●]

Max kicks yet another chunk of gravel in her path as she walks, trying as best as she can to keep up with Y/n's tale. How Max found herself in the middle of this confusing shitstorm, she would never know.

Steve, on the other hand, having known only half the story from the previous year, was gaining new information himself. About Eleven, Y/n, the experiments, everything. Just when he thought he knew everything about his hometown.

"You mean, he actually, like, yelled at you?" Lucas gaped. "Will?"

Y/n nods, eyes trained on the tracks below her feet. After a confusing roundup, the group found themselves walking the path the swarm had disappeared on. Having no choice but to answer their many questions, Y/n was recounting to them - without mentioning El or her trip to Chicago to the best of her ability - the events in the past 48 hours. It was proving a very difficult feat.

"'Get the hell out of my house', does not sound like Will. Like, at all."

"Exactly," Y/n insists. "I'm telling you, he's not himself."

"Clearly," scoffed Dustin.

"So I left. He didn't want me there, he made that clear enough."

"That still doesn't explain why you're dressed like that, or the fact that you came in, hands blazing, and fought off an army of Demogorgons,"

"It's complicated, alright?" She snapped defensively, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "I..."

The words died on her tongue, not even knowing what they were. She had no idea how or where to even begin. All she could do was choose her words carefully.

"I had to clear my head," she paused briefly when she saw the worried look in her brother's eyes, and sighed. "I had to get away, so...I did. Long story short-"

"Too late," Steve quipped.

"-I ran into some trouble. My clothes got trashed, so I got my hands on some spares, and I made my way home."

Satisfied with her careful recount of the events, she continued.

"And on my way, I-" she sighed once more. "Well, I figured out how to use my... powers."

The word still felt foreign on her tongue, still felt silly to say.

"Turns out, facing your shit helps."

"Wait, what does that mean exactly?" Max asked.

Y/n shrugged. "I was hurt, and angry, and confused. Apparently, that helps me control it."

An uneasy quiet falls over the group and she looks around to see her friends staring at her with intrigue. Even Steve stole a few glances at her hands, but she merely stuffed them in her oversized pockets.

"No," she scoffs, hiding a small smile. "You were all there at the junkyard, you already got a glimpse. Besides, I need to save my energy for those things."

Confusion flashes across her face and she looks between the four. "What about you guys? Why the hell are we fighting these things?"

Lucas looked past Y/n, gesturing to Dustin who had grown awfully quiet. "It's all thanks to Dustin, and his little 'pet'."

Y/n frowned. "You're sure that thing was Dart?"

"Yes," Dustin nods. "He had the exact same yellow pattern on his butt."

"He was tiny two days ago," Max pointed out.

"Well, he's molted three times already."

"Wait, m-malted?" Steve asks.

"Molted," Dustin corrects. "Shed his skin to make room for growth like hornworms."

"Well, when's he gonna molt again?" Max asks.

"It's gotta be soon. When he does, he'll be fully grown, or close to it. So will his friends."

Y/n grows more and more concerned by the moment. "Like, actual Demogorgan size?"

"Possibly."

"Yeah," Steve cuts in, scoffing. "and he's gonna eat a lot more than just cats."

Everyone halted immediately, Y/n's eyes grew wide and Lucas throws a hand out at Dustin.

"Wait, a cat?"

Dustin freezes, his eyes as wide as saucers they flick nervously in Y/n's direction and Lucas gives him a firm push.

"Dart ate a cat?"

Y/n steps forward, advancing slowly. "Dustin, what is he talking about?"

He scoffs nervously, shaking his head.

"No, what? No,"

"Dustin-"

"What are you talking about?" Steve asks, clearly confused. "He ate Mews."

"WHAT?"

Max looks feverishly between everyone, once more completely lost. "Mews? Who's Mews?"

"You let that thing eat our cat?!" Y/n shrieked, now stomping closer to her brother.

Max gapes, having gotten her answer.

"I knew it!" Exclaims Lucas, joining Y/n's side. "I knew it! You kept him!"

He jabs an angry finger in Dustin's chest

"No!" Dustin shot back, albeit a bit weakly. "No. No, I... No, I... He missed me. He wanted to come home."

"Bullshit!" Lucas spits.

Dustin sees at the pointed looks of his friends, more importantly, the hurt in his sister's eyes and it is hit with a wave of guilt.

"I- I didn't know he was a Demogorgan, okay?" He looks to Y/n, reaching out for her. "Y/n-,"

He only manages to graze her shoulder, and he notes she is hot to the touch, proof that her powers were bubbling to the surface. She flinches, shoving his hand away and he winces at her scalding hands.

"Don't touch me," she huffs, avoiding his gaze. "You knew! You knew this whole time, and you kept him! We talked about this, Dustin! As a group. We agreed he was from the upside down-"

"He was my responsibility-"

"and you kept him and it murdered out cat! And, to top it all off you sent mom on a wild goose chase-"

Steve groans, knowing the fight will only intensify.

But the siblings did not hear, the fight-turned-screaming match.

"Like you're one to talk, you went off on some idiot side quest playing dress-up while the rest of us-"

"Excuse me?!" She turned on him, her fist bunch up at her sides and several waves of heat radiated off them. "That's some sexist hunk of bullshit! While the rest of you what, Dustin-?"

She gestures wildly around her.

"Yeah, 'the rest of you' are cleaning up your mess-!"

"Guys," Max tried. "It doesn't matter. Who cares, let's just-"

"It does matter!" Lucas retorts. "It does! You put the party in jeopardy! You broke the rule of law!"

"So did you!" Dustin shot back, pointing his flashlight at Max, gesturing to her. "You told a stranger the truth!"

Max guffawed, now just as invested and just as furious. "Stranger?!"

By now, Steve contemplates whether or not to leave the herd of bickering children and continuing on the path, seeing if they'd follow or even notice. But something in the distance catches his ear.

"Real nice, Dustin. Don't try and blame anyone else-"

He creeps forward, flashlight in hand, and aimed into the darkness of the trees. All the while, the screaming match continuing uninterrupted behind him.

"You wanted to tell her too!"

"But I didn't, Lucas, okay?" Dustin shrieks. "I didn't tell her!"

Steve hears the sound once more, the sound of distant cries - the same cries he heard at the junkyard. The swarm was close.

"We both broke the rule of law, okay? So we're even we're even!"

"-No, no! We're not even. Don't even try that!"

"You're so not even Dustin!" Y/n fires back. "At least when he broke the rules, it didn't end with a dead cat!"

"Oh, you're never gonna let that go, are you?"

"Let it go? Let it go? I just found out!"

"Jesus, is that what really matters right now?" Max shouts.

The broken party was now at war with one another, no one individual member speaking at once. They all continue to shout at one another, besides Steve, who is now completely on edge, wary of their surroundings.

"Hey, guys?" Steve calls.

"You're dumb pet could have eaten us for dinner!"

"He wasn't gonna eat us!"

"Oh, so he was just coming to say hello?"

"GUYS!"

The children stop finally, looking up at Steve and his angered - and frightened expression. They have only seconds to question his worry until another screech echoes through the trees. Everyone pales, and Steve's spiked bat comes to rest over his shoulder as he marches off into the woods, the founding members of the party following. Leaving an exasperated new member behind; Max.

She is suddenly filled with dread, and she shakes her head along after them.

"No, no, no. Hey, guys, why are you headed towards the sound?" She asks, getting no answer. "Hello?"

She watches dumbstruck as they disappear over the small dirt hill, and into the trees.

"Hello?!"

She huffs, her head practically rolling off her shoulders and cursing herself for what she is about to do.

"Shit,"

She breaks out into a light jog, begrudgingly joining the rest of the group.

They follow the unending calls to the top of a hill, overlooking a small portion of Hawkins. Fog covers the lands, and the only other noise filling their ears are the croaks and ribbits of the marshy lands nearby.

"I don't see him," Dustin says, defeated.

A small click brings everyone's attention to Lucas as he takes out his binoculars, unfolding them. The lenses scan the town below until they stop on a darkened building Lucas recognizes all too well.

"It's the lab,"

His voice is grave, and it infects the others who all quickly dawn a similar, horrified expression.

"They were going back home."

+++

Tag List: @dickkwad @aimee-lucass @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely-blog @missmulti @youpi-chan @peeperparkour @ba-responds @bibliophilesquared @blogforhoes @witch-of-all-things-soft @shawni-h @whothefuckstolemykeds @mirdall @fishswimbetterunderwater @daughter-of-the-stars11 @stranger-things4 @heavenlycat567

DM me, or drop by my inbox if you want to be added!

90 notes · View notes

nazariolahela · 5 years ago

Text

Best Beloved: Chapter 6

A/N: Hey y'all! This is a PM AU I’ve been working on. It’s a bit different than my previous fic series and I’m really excited to try something new. I hope y’all enjoy it. This story is told in dual first-person narrative, from Kaia (F!MC) and Damien’s POV. The first half of this story takes place during Kaia’s freshman year and Damien’s senior year of college. The second half is two years after Kaia graduates. There will be sprinklings of canon in this fic, but we’ll try to step out of the box for the most part. Thanks for reading, and please leave feedback, and/or if you would like to be tagged.

Catch up here

Series Tags: @burnsoslow @lady-calypso @irishwhiskys-blog @loveellamae

Synopsis: What happens when you find yourself crushing on your best friend? For years, Damien and Kaia have been friends, while secretly harboring feelings for one another. Everything changes one night after a little too much alcohol and years of pent up feelings. Can they control their emotions and salvage their friendship, or will the feelings they hold for one another destroy everything they have?

All characters are the property of Pixelberry Studios. Thanks for allowing me to borrow them.

Chapter Summary: It’s the night of the homecoming dance, and things are burning up on and off the dance floor.

Kaia

“Stop fidgeting. You’re going to mess up my hard work,” Nadia snapped as she put the finishing touches on my hair. It was the night of the Homecoming dance and the whole campus was in a festive mood. The year’s homecoming week featured a "Wizard of Oz" inspired theme, aptly titled, “There’s No Place Like Homecoming."

Judging by the lineup of activities, that statement wasn’t entirely false. The week’s festivities kicked off with a Wizard’s Festival on the Campus Green. Members of the Campus Activities Board were donned in costumes that could have been featured in the actual film. The rest of the week featured a Pep Rally, a campus scavenger hunt, and a concert featuring pop star Alyssa Griffin.

The parade was held earlier in the day, where the Homecoming Court was presented. The queen was Damien’s friend(?), senior Cecile Contreras. I recognized her from that day in the bistro. She eyed me with such disgust, if looks could kill, I would have dropped dead right then and there. The king was another senior by the name of Mikail Greene. I recall seeing him in passing on campus. He seemed nice. Damien said he was really popular with the student body.

The football game followed shortly after. The Badgers took an early lead but ultimately lost in OT. Steve had another stellar game, of course. I heard from people in the crowd how he was already drawing interest from NFL scouts as a freshman. When I asked Steve about it after the game, he brushed it off, saying he wouldn’t be draft-eligible for another two years.

“Okay! We’re all done. Now, get dressed. I want to see the finished product,” Nadia said, giving my updo a final spritz with hairspray.

I retreated to the bathroom and grabbed my homecoming dress hanging on the back of the door. I pulled the dress off the hanger and examined it. It was a low-cut, sparkly red, spaghetti strap number with a gold belt at the waist. I ran my fingers across the A-Line tulle skirt and smiled as I slipped the dress over my head, careful not to mess up my hair. Once I was dressed, I applied my makeup and took one last look at myself in the mirror. Students of Hartfeld, eat your heart out!

I swung the bathroom door open and stepped out into the shared space of our dorm. Nadia turned and gasped when she caught sight of me all dolled up.

“Ohmygods, Kaia! You look amazing!” she said, her eyes welling with tears.

“Really?” I asked, twirling around the room.

She nodded. “Whoever you’re planning on impressing tonight is going to be blown away.” She didn’t say it, but I knew she meant Damien. To be honest, I’d been upping my game in terms of my appearance lately. Ever since he told me he and Alana had been having problems, I’d been going out of my way to show him what he was missing. I put my hand on Nadia’s shoulder in a silent thanks, then moved to my room to retrieve my clutch.

Once we were ready, we exited the dorm and made our way to the parking lot. Steve’s trusty blue Chevy pickup sat in the empty space in front of our building. He and Sloane were seated on the tailgate, showing each other something on their phones. Steve looked up and a wide grin spread across his face when he noticed Nadia.

“Babe...You look...wow…” he stuttered as she wrapped her arms around his neck and peppered his face with kisses. I turned towards Sloane and gave her a bright smile as she hopped off the tailgate.

“Your dress is so pretty!” I squealed motioning for her to twirl. Her dress was similar in style and material as mine but in a light blue color.

“Thanks! Yours too! You ready to go?” she said, smoothing down her skirt.

I hooked my thumb back towards Steve and Nadia. “Sure. As soon as those two come up for air.”

Sloane laughed and shouted at the kissing couple to break it up. Nadia flipped us the bird, then we all piled into the pickup and made our way towards the Sports and Activities Center, where the homecoming dance was held every year. When we pulled up in the parking lot, it looked a lot different from the first time we were here. Gone were the tailgaters; replaced with a few remaining parade floats being dismantled and students in formal attire.

We walked the sidewalk that connected the parking lot to the football stadium and activities center, noticing it temporarily painted yellow to simulate a “Yellow Brick Road.”

“Cute,” I said to myself as we made our way inside the center. The doorman took our tickets and directed us to the field house which had been transformed into The Emerald City.

“Ohmygods, Kaia! I just realized your dress reminds me of Dorothy’s shoes!” Nadia squealed, squeezing my hand.

My eyes roamed the room, taking in the magnificent job that CAB did on the decorations. A dance floor occupied the center of the room with several high-top tables scattered around it. The DJ booth was set up towards the back of the room under one of the basketball hoops. The bleachers were folded up on either side of the room to allow space for a photo booth and a bar area.

We moved through the room and found an empty table. The music from the DJ booth filled the room as dancers moved about the dance floor. A flash of black hair caught my eye and I turned to see Hayden strutting towards me. He had no business looking so good in a blue vest over a grey dress shirt and gray checkered tie. His eyes met mine and he grinned from ear to ear. When he arrived at our table, his eyes traveled the length of my body and I felt my cheeks and ears burning up.

“There’s no place like home,” he muttered under his breath and I barely caught what he said.

“What?”

“Nothing. You look amazing. Wanna dance?”

I looked over at Nadia and Steve, who were attached at the mouth. Sloane was nowhere to be found. I gnawed on my bottom lip, contemplating his offer. Damien’s words crept into my mind. You should give him a chance. Who knows? He might turn out to be a great guy. I turned back to Hayden and gave him a soft smile. “Sure. Let’s go.”

His eyes lit up as he took my hand and led me to the dance floor. Maroon 5’s “Animals” blared from the speakers as we moved together. I swayed my body to the beat, lost in the rhythm of the music. When I opened my eyes, I saw Hayden dancing, but his eyes were fixed on me. The intensity of his gaze made my skin instantly flushed. When the song came to an end, a slower track followed and I took this as my cue to grab a drink.

“You thirsty?” I asked.

He nodded and led me over to the bar. I perused the menu. Damn, no alcohol. I ordered both of us one of the signature “mocktails.” The bartender gave us our drinks and we made our way back to the table. Nadia and Steve were missing in action, but Sloane was standing there talking to a guy with auburn hair. She smiled when she saw Hayden and I approaching.

“Hey, guys! How was the dance floor?”

“Crowded,” Hayden replied, sipping his mocktail. The redhead guy whispered something in Sloane’s ear and she nodded before he walked away.

“So, who’s your friend?” I smirked at her.

“Oh, just some guy in my Spanish Comp class. Whatcha drinking?” she asked, eyeing my glass.

“It’s the signature mocktail. They’re pretty tasty. Have you tried one yet?” I said to her, holding up the multi-colored drink.

“Yeah, Derek went to grab us some.” She looked at Hayden, then back at me. Her eyes silently asked what was up between him and I. I smirked and shook my head as if to say, “tell ya later.” Derek returned shortly and the four of us fell into a comfortable conversation. He and Sloane had a class together and had been texting for a few weeks. I learned that Derek was a sophomore and a member of CAB. I complimented him on the decor, to which smiled and nodded. He finished his drink and asked her if she wanted to dance.

“Watch my drink for me?” she asked.

I nodded and smiled as Derek led her out to the dance floor, leaving Hayden and me alone. He rested his forearms on the tabletop and turned to me.

“So, you excited for midterms?”

I laughed. “Who would be excited about that?”

“Well, me for one. It means the semester’s half over.”

“Hmm...good point. I guess that’s one thing to look forward to,” I replied and took a sip of my drink.

He nodded and we fell into an awkward silence, watching the crowd. After a few minutes, he cleared his throat and spoke up. “So, I know I asked you this before, and I don’t want to come off too desperate, but I really like you, Kaia. And I know you like me too.”

My cheeks flushed. How did he know? As if he could read my thoughts, he continued. “Your cousin told me.”

Damnit, Nadia!

He smiled and continued. “Let me take you out. We don’t even have to call it a date. I just want to get to know you.” He reached across the table and took my hand in his, lightly brushing his thumb across my knuckles.

I looked down at our joined hands, then back up at him. My body reacting to the contact. Why was I acting like this? We were both single and obviously attracted to each other. What could it hurt? For some odd reason, my thoughts wandered to Damien. Jesus, what was wrong with me. He wasn’t available. It was because of him that I was hesitant to pull the trigger with Hayden. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to clear my thoughts. When I opened my eyes, Hayden was looking at me expectantly.

“Okay.”

He seemed taken aback. “Okay?”

I nodded. “Okay, okay. Let’s do it. Take me out. When are you free?”

A wide grin spread across his face. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Whatever you want to do,” I replied.

Something flashed in his eyes. He grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on the back of it. “I think it’s time for another dance. Don’t you?”

I nodded and let him lead me out onto the dance floor. Ariana Grande and The Weeknd’s “Love Me Harder” started playing and Hayden placed his hands on my waist as we swayed back and forth. I looped my arms around his neck and pulled him close, pressing our foreheads together.

“Kaia? Can I ask you something?” he whispered into my ear.

“Sure,” I replied.

“What changed?”

I pulled back and searched his face. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. “I mean. I’ve been asking you out for almost a month now, and you’ve been side-stepping giving me a definite answer. Don’t get me wrong. I’m so happy you finally said yes, but I’m curious what changed?”

I thought back to the conversation I had with Damien in the bistro. How I was too afraid to pursue anything with Hayden because I was still harboring feelings for him. Would I ever get over them? Maybe in time. And he would always hold a special place in my heart. But this schoolgirl crush was getting in the way of me having a life. “Honestly? I just felt like it was time I got my shit together.”

Hayden seemed to accept that answer and pulled me back against him. We danced through two more songs, laughing and talking. As the current song was coming to a close, I looked across the room and saw him. Damien. The sight of him caused my breath to catch. He looked absolutely mouth-watering in a navy blue suit. The top two buttons of his dress shirt were unbuttoned, giving me a glimpse of his chest.

He had his arm wrapped around Alana’s waist, but his eyes held mine with a look of pure lust mixed with jealousy. He leaned down and whispered something into Alana’s ear, never taking his eyes off mine. Hayden came up behind me and wrapped his arm around my waist. Damien looked over to him, then back at me.

I was the first to break eye contact, turning to Hayden and telling him that I had to use the restroom. He nodded and headed back to our table as I made my way through the crowd to the ladies' room. I grabbed the first open stall and rushed inside, shutting the door. I leaned up against the stall door and sucked in several deep breaths. What the hells was wrong with me? I was here with another guy, but I was eye-fucking my best friend from across the room. Jesus! Get ahold of yourself, Kaia!

***

Damien

Alana and I walked into the gym hand-in-hand. The strobe lights danced across the room as some upbeat pop song poured from the speakers. We spotted Cecile and Rowan dancing together, the lights reflecting off Cecile’s Homecoming Queen crown. Alana pulled me toward one of the tables and set her clutch down on the tabletop. She scanned the room, taking in the decor.

“Well, at least it's better than last year’s theme,” she huffed.

I cringed. Last year’s homecoming theme was “Boot-Scootin’ Victory,” a western-themed event that was as cheesy as you’d expect. I’m not sure who approved that one. The entire campus looked like a scene from the movie, “Tombstone.” The dance was even worse. CAB hired a country-western band to entertain, and they played nothing but ‘90s country music for the entirety of the dance.

The most amusing thing that happened was watching the basketball team try to line-dance. A video of the team’s center riding a mechanical bull went viral, causing his draft stock to dip. Apparently, NBA scouts frown upon a 6’10” player having almost-sex with his girlfriend on the mechanical bull at the school dance.

Cecile and Rowan joined us a few minutes later at our table. Rowan and I made small talk while Cecile and Alana reenacted an episode of Project Runway, judging the dresses of our classmates. Rowan left to go grab drinks for the table, leaving me with the girls. I leaned over the table and congratulated Cecile on winning Homecoming Queen. She scowled, then muttered thanks.

I chuckled to myself. She was probably still pissed about seeing me and Kaia together at the bistro. I know she tattled to Alana right after they left. That night, Alana came to my dorm. We fought, made love, fought again, then didn’t talk for two days. I remembered Kaia’s words in the bistro when I told her about mine and Alana’s relationship troubles. This whole relationship seems really unhealthy. There’s a huge lack of trust on both sides. That’s something a break isn’t going to fix. If she only knew.

Rowan returned to the table with the drinks. I picked up the glass and eyed it skeptically as the green and yellow colors swirled together. I took a sip and turned up my nose.

“What the hells is this?”

“Some signature mocktail. Pineapple, orange and melon juice,” he said, taking a drink of his. “And it tastes like shit.”

He reached into his suit jacket and retrieved a flask, pouring what I assumed was alcohol into the cup. He turned and offered me some. I held out my drink and he dumped a splash of the clear liquid into my glass. I shook my head. “More.” He smirked and kept pouring until I motioned for him to stop. I took a drink. It was better, but not by much. I bit my tongue and chugged the drink, happy to finally have finished it off.

As Alana and Cecile continued to gossip, I spotted Nadia and some blonde kid making their way towards me. Her eyes lit up when she saw me and moved faster through the crowd. She wrapped her arms around me in a bone-crushing hug.

“Damien Elvis Nazario! Have you been avoiding me this semester?” she squealed.

I laughed. “Even if I was, you’d track me down.”

“It’s like you know me,” she replied.

I looked over her shoulder to see Alana staring at us with a scowl. I detached myself from Nadia and introduced her to Alana. The two women sized each other up in some sort of awkward standoff. After several tense moments, Nadia grabbed the arm of the guy she was with and drug him over to us. “Damien. I want you to meet Steve, my boyfriend.”

At the mention of his name, I remembered Kaia telling me about him at the frat party. “Ah, yes, Tennyson. Good game today, man. You’ve been tearing it up this season.”

He nodded and shook my hand. “Thanks, man. I know it’s still early, but I think we have a shot at the natty this year.”

The two of us talked for a few minutes before Alana wrapped her arms around me from behind and began pulling me toward the dance floor. I rolled my eyes and said my goodbyes to Nadia and Steve, then followed her. We made our way through the tables and found a spot near the edge of the crowd. A slow pop ballad played and Alana wrapped her arms around my neck. I rested my hands on her hips as we swayed to the music. As we danced, I scanned the crowd.

At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I caught a glance of her on the other side of the dance floor. Kaia. My Kaia. She looked like a goddess in that shimmery red dress. She was dancing with some tall guy with black hair. He leaned down and whispered something in her ear, and she started laughing. The jealousy radiated through my body. I watched her as the other guy rested his hands on her waist. I wanted to sprint across the dance floor and break both of his arms. Instead, I stood there — my arms wrapped around my girlfriend — watching my best friend dance with another man.

She looked up and locked eyes with me. Her shocked expression caused my lips to turn up in a small smile. She looked over at Alana, who was talking to some random girl. She probably introduced me, but I was too preoccupied watching Kaia to care. I glanced over at my best friend’s date, then back at her. The two of us stared at each other across the room for several moments before I felt Alana tug at my arm.

“I’m going to go grab another drink. Do you want anything?” she asked.

I leaned down, never taking my eyes off Kaia and muttered in her ear. “No, I’m good. I’m gonna go use the restroom.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Alana move away. Kaia turned to her date, said something to him, then made her way through the crowd towards the doors of the gym. I waited 10 seconds, making sure Alana or none of her friends were around, then followed her. I reached the doors leading to the hallway when I saw her enter the bathroom. The alcohol began to take effect as I walked past a couple making out against the trophy case and stood outside the entrance to the bathroom.

Several minutes passed before she emerged. Her head was down, and she didn’t notice me until she nearly crashed into me.

“Holy shit! Damien!” she said, nearly toppling over. It was very reminiscent of the first day of school. I reached out and grabbed her arm to steady her. The touch of her smooth skin sent my senses into overdrive.

“We’ve gotta stop running into each other like this,” I smiled. She laughed and my chest tightened. My eyes raked up and down her body. Fuck, she looked phenomenal. That dress hugged her curves. I wanted to reach out and feel the fabric between my fingers

“You here by yourself?” I asked.

“I came with Nadia, Steve, and Sloane. They’re around here somewhere.”

I noticed she didn’t mention the guy she was dancing with. Which meant she didn’t come here with him. “No date?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Technically, no.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Hayden. You remember me telling you about him, right?” she smirked. I saw the amusement in her expression. Of course, I did. I was the one who told her to go out with him.

I nodded my head. “So, you finally decided to give the poor guy a chance.”

“I did. He’s taking me out tomorrow,” she smiled and it made me jealous.

“Oh yeah? On a Sunday?” I replied sharply, the alcohol giving me courage.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. He didn’t want to wait until next weekend to see me again.” I could hear the challenge in her voice.

I shoved my hands in my pants pockets. “Hmm...that’s interesting. Usually, guys who aren't that interested take girls out on Sundays.”

“Are you speaking from experience?” she scowled.

I shrugged. “I just know that Sundays are usually the day when people wind down from the weekend and prepare for their week. So, he probably won’t be all there mentally.”

Annoyance flashed in her eyes. “I don’t know why you give a shit, Dames. You were the one who told me to go out with him. He likes me and I like him. Why is that such a big deal to you?”

“I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into. I mean, what do you know about this kid anyway besides his dog’s name and what classes he has?”

That seemed to piss her off even more. She stood up straight and stepped into my space. Her voice was low but held so much anger. “What the hells has gotten into you, Damien? First, you encourage me to go out with the guy. Now you’re trying to talk me out of it. You’re my best friend, not my dad. You don’t even know him, so stop judging him. The whole reason I’m going out with him is so I can get to know him. Why don’t you just back off?”

A loose strand of hair fell from her updo into her face. On instinct, I reached out and tucked it behind her ear, my palm brushing her soft cheek in the process. Her breath hitched at the contact. My eyes traveled to her mouth as she gnawed on her bottom lip. I knew my presence was making her nervous. That was her tell.

Thanks to the combination of the alcohol coursing through my body and the tension between us, I threw all inhibition out the window and leaned in to capture her mouth in a kiss. She froze for a moment, then her body melted as she gave in. A slight gasp escaped her lips as I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to me. I knew what we were doing was wrong, but damn if it felt so right. My fingers tangled in her hair and I slipped my other arm around her waist. Her lips parted slightly, allowing my tongue to dart into her mouth and massage hers. I had forgotten how good it felt to kiss her.

”Damien,” she whimpered.

My hands traveled down her back and cupped her ass. She moaned in my mouth, the sound shooting straight to my dick. I pressed my growing hard-on into her thigh. ”That's it, Kaia. Say my name.”

”Damien, please,” she said, breaking the kiss. She pressed her palms flat against my chest and shoved me back. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You have a girlfriend.”

“And?” I replied, moving closer.

She stepped back. “You should figure your shit out with her first. I won’t be a cheater,” she huffed.

“Kaia,” I said, my voice coming out in a harsh whisper.

“I have to get back to my date.” She looked me up and down, noticing the bulge in my crotch. “You should probably do the same.” She took one last look at me before turning and stomping down the hallway back towards the dance. She stopped at the entrance to the gym and turned back to me. The intensity of her gaze made me want to march up to her and claim her in front of the whole school, but my feet were rooted to the floor. Her eyes searched mine, both of our gazes saying what our mouths couldn’t. After a few beats, she shook her head and walked back inside.

I stood there and watched the door, waiting for her to come back. When she didn’t, I sighed and made my way back to the gym. I scanned the crowd for her but gave up after a few moments. Spotting Alana at our table with Rowan and Cecile, I raked my hand through my hair and sighed before walking back to my girlfriend.

#best beloved #pm au #college au #friends to lovers #perfect match #choices fanfic #damien nazario #kaia park #damien x mc #nazariolahela fanfic

18 notes · View notes

bookdancerfics · 6 years ago

Text

Corpses Don’t Bleed

a Clint Barton Bingo fill, @clintbartonbingo

Square: Barney Barton (O4) Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Swearing Pairing: N/A, gen Rated T Word Count: ~1700 words Series: Part 1 of Clint Barton Bingo 2019

Summary: It’s been a while since Barney had to defend his kid brother from bullies, but that doesn’t mean he’s forgotten how to do it.

Additional Tags: Hurt Clint Barton, Reluctantly Protective Barney Barton, Barney’s POV, rated T for the Bartons’ full swear jar, i know it’s Barney’s pov but it’s also, Clint Barton-centric, Barney would never admit it but he loves his little bro, Hurt/Comfort, Deaf Clint Barton, Canon Disabled Character, takes place at an undisclosed time in the universe but Clint is already an Avenger

AO3, ff.net

In the end there were a few things that came together to make sure that Barney was where he was when shit went down.

One, he was supposed to be pulling a retrieval job for Wilson Fisk, arguably the most powerful crime lord in the five boroughs. The object, a multi-billion dollar painting, had gone missing the day before he planned to take it.

Two, a few years back Barney had screwed over his work partner and escaped with more than a few thousand dollars in cash. Said work partner, a man by the name of Tommy Devlin, had been after Barney ever since. There was no such as thing as thickness between thieves when one had stolen from the other.

Three, Barney had shit luck, and he needed to stop listening to men named Tommy Devlin when they said they were holding the thing he cared for most hostage.

Barney stepped into the world’s darkest alley, sparing one glance up to the broken streetlight. The glass was cracked, and dirty, but his family was known for their good eyes, and he was pretty sure that was a bullet hole in the glass.

He turned back to the showdown at the other end of the alley. Tommy Devlin stood beneath a fire escape, hidden in darkness, but nothing could disguise the outline of a handgun held against another man’s head.

“Still not over the cliché’s, huh, Devlin?” Barney called. “And for the record, I don’t care for my brother.”

Said brother, the one with a gun to his head, had obviously been tied to a chair in front of Devlin, but although it didn’t look like he was unconscious, he still didn’t react.

Despite himself and his own words, Barney frowned. If there was anything he knew about his brother besides the whole Avengers thing, it was that he had a smart mouth that never knew when to shut up.

“And you’re sure of that?” Devlin called.

Barney only snorted. “Duh. Haven’t talked to the kid in months. Haven’t seen him for longer than that. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

He turned to leave, prepared to let the Avengers handle the rescuing this time around. Clint could, and would, hang on till then. Barney didn’t need to get himself killed saving his brother when professionals were on the way. All the same, he instinctively kept his guard up toward Devlin, and in that same moment the gun rang out and shrapnel sprayed from the brick next to his head. Barney ducked, covering his face with his arms even as he spun to face Devlin. Fury burned in his chest, and he could practically feel his face turn red, heat overtaking him as his anger bloomed. At the other end of the alley, Clint was finally moving, squirming against the bonds holding him in place even as he shouted obscenities. Whether they were for Devlin or Barney himself, Barney didn’t know.

“I didn’t say you could leave,” Devlin called. “I imagine you’d at least be interested in this?”

A light clicked on, Devlin deftly handling a flashlight along with the gun. The light shone past Clint to illuminate the very painting Barney had been tasked to retrieve.

He cursed under his breath. Although he was all for leaving his brother to be rescued by the Avengers when they finally came looking, he couldn’t very well leave the painting in Devlin’s hands. He had been small time when Barney bailed two years before, a major part of why Barney left him behind in the first place. But judging by the state of things, he’d obviously found his guts since then. If Barney wanted to get out of his next meeting with Fisk with his head still on his shoulders, he needed that painting.

It leaned against the apartment building behind it, and as Barney eyed it he was also reminded of their proximity to people, as well as the gunshot that had gone off barely a minute before. Someone must have called the police… Barney had to retrieve the painting, and he needed to do it then and there.

“Alright,” Barney called, turning to properly face Devlin. He palmed the knife tucked against his low middle back. “What do you want?”

For the first time, Devlin’s face twisted. “What do you think? I want my money back, Barton.”

“Okay,” Barney said. “I can do that. Just give me the painting, and I can get the money to you at an arranged time and place after this…”

Devlin brought the gun back to Clint’s head. “You’re lying.”

Barney snorted. “Yeah, Devlin, sure. I’m fucking lying. I may be a Barton, but I’m not that stupid. You don’t cross Wilson Fisk. You give me the painting, I get to keep my head, you get your money back.”

Sirens sounded in the background, and Devlin jerked, the mouth of the gun bumping into Clint’s ear. Clint growled something that sounded suspiciously like fuck off, but Devlin obviously wasn’t listening, as he dropped the flashlight in favor of pulling another gun out to point at Barney.

“You called the cops?!” Devlin yelled.

“What?” Barney asked. “No, are you stupid? You shot at me without a silencer, of course cops are gonna show up. Now give me the fucking painting and —”

Devlin fired the gun, or both of them, Barney didn’t know, and he didn’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out. He had to actually be alive to care about Fisk taking his head off. He dove for refuge behind a dumpster and his side collided with the brick apartment wall painfully, but a quick body check confirmed he hadn’t been hit by a bullet.

As the gunshots’ echo faded, Clint’s voice stormed in, loud as he yelled. His words slurred a little, most likely because of a concussion.

“— let me go home, man, I just want to sleep!” Clint said, and Barney couldn’t help but snort. That was his baby brother, all right.

Barney glanced around the edge of the dumpster to see Devlin with his back to him, collecting the painting and flashlight. Barney could only see one gun in his hands. Clint was still complaining, steadily growing louder even as he wobbled in the chair.

Six stories up, a light blinked on, and Devlin froze. Yet another reason Barney had left him behind, but Barney could appreciate the bad habit helping him out. He threw himself forward, racing to the other end of the alley, and Devlin unfroze.

Light glinted across a puddle next to Clint’s chair.

Barney took a mis-step.

He fumbled, got his feet together, but his gaze was still on that puddle and even running it took him too damn long to get to the chair.

Devlin turned; Barney was so close he could see his eyes grow wide. The gun came up.

Even in the dark, Barney could see a drop land in that damned puddle. It was red, a puddle should never be red but this one was and Barney knew if he tracked the drop’s path he would find a similarly colored stain on his kid brother. He didn’t know where he would find it, but somehow that didn’t matter.

All that mattered was that Clint kept breathing, and corpses didn’t bleed. They didn’t yell insults at the men who shot them, either, and Barney almost wished he could pay attention to what Clint was calling Devlin, if for nothing else but good fodder for another time.

Barney dove for the gun.

He collided with Devlin just as another gunshot sounded, impossibly loud next to his ears, but his shoulder dug into Devlin’s gut and they both went down hard. Something cracked on the pavement, and Barney really hoped it wasn’t himself.

He shook his head, trying to clear it even as he sat up. He was just focusing on the blood pooling under Devlin’s head when Clint’s voice filtered back in.

“— never told me you played football. Was that before or after the circus? Little league or pickup games at Villains r Us?”

Barney rolled his eyes. “Football doesn’t have little league, genius. And I’m not saying I need a thank you, but a little acknowledgement wouldn’t hurt.”

“Say something maybe?” Clint asked, and Barney finally turned to look at him, ready to snap before he noticed the lack of purple in Clint’s ears. No hearing aids; either Devlin had taken them or Clint had been grabbed without them.

Barney lifted his hands and, although it had been years, managed to haltingly sign out what he had said.

“Oh, right,” Clint said, and Barney frowned. “Thank you so much for abandoning me for the wonderful life of a thief. How could I ever repay you.”

“Stop bitching,” Barney told him, signing in sharp strokes. He thumbed Clint’s cheekbone roughly, eyeing the black eye he could already see forming. “Where’d he hit you?”

Clint snorted. “You mean the first time or the fifth?”

Barney shot him a look.

“The thigh, shouldn’t kill me.”

Barney pulled the knife from its holster and swiftly cut through the ropes tying Clint to the chair. As Clint rubbed his hands together and Barney poked at the bullet wound, the police sirens grew even louder. They would reach them in less than a minute.

Clint pressed down on his own wound, this time giving Barney a look.

“Go on,” Clint said.

“What?” Barney asked, lifting his hands, palms up, even as he emphasized his confusion.

“You can’t be here.” Clint gave him a weak grin. “I can’t hear the sirens clearly, but they’re there, and that means they’re close. The police are coming, and you know it.”

Barney glanced toward the sound of the sirens, then back at Clint.

“There’s an exit wound,” he signed. “Keep pressure on it.”

Clint nodded exaggeratingly. “I know, I know, now go.”

“Give me a head start,” Barney continued. He grabbed the painting in his left hand, leaving his right free for the last one-handed sign. “See you.”

He turned, ready to walk away, when Clint spoke up again.

“Barney, hey… thanks.”

Without even turning around, Barney flicked his middle finger up, then jogged from the alley. He had a painting to deliver to Wilson Fisk.

#clintbartonbingo #clint barton bingo #clint barton #barney barton #avengers #avengers fanfiction #avengers fic #superheroes #my fic #mine

10 notes · View notes

written-rebellion · 7 years ago

Text

Perfect Distractions

A/N: I think we’re waay overdue for a nice, long chapter, wouldn’t you say? It’s also a bit nsfw right in the middle.

Jamie helps Claire move out, Claire gives Jamie her own grand tour, and as always, all the facts of this fanfic are contrived specifically to make fluffy university/modern-day au scenarios. Please let me know what you think!

Part One: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] | Part Two: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Three: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Four: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Five: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Six: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Seven: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Eight: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Nine: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Ten: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Eleven: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Twelve: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [ Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Thirteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Fourteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] Part Fifteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Sixteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]

Part Sixteen: Happy Returns | Chapter 3

They’d driven down to campus in Murtagh’s pickup and she’d left Jamie to start packing as she and Joe settled their plans for the upcoming school year with their – extremely concerned and utterly relieved – program coordinator.

After waving Joe off, she came back up to the room and leaned silently against the doorframe, watching Jamie carefully pack away what had been her life for the last while.

His sleeves were rolled up, his large back facing her as he lifted a box of her books and moved to place it on her desk. He caught sight of her as he turned and gave her a sidelong smile that sent her heart swooping into her throat.

“Enjoyin’ the view, a nighean?”

Like giving herself over to a current, she let that ever indiscernible magnetic tug pull her towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.

“I missed this place while I was gone,” she sighed, already feeling the telltale rumble of his laugh.

“More so than Lallybroch?” he said, eyebrow raised.

“Close second,” she laughed, kissing his shoulder briefly before releasing him, reaching for the duct tape, and sealing off the box.

He sat back on her bare mattress, bouncing slightly just to amplify the bedframe’s creaking and giving her what she knew was his best attempt at a wink.

But was really just an hilariously unsettling blink.

“Most of yer wee trinkets and books are done,” he told her. “Thought ye might want to do the clothes yerself.”

She cast him an eye as she bent to retrieve a discarded sock on the floor by her desk.

“Half of these are likely your clothes, you know?”

“Aye,” he nodded, unperturbed, “which ye either stole from me, or were torn off me – also by you.”

Feeling her high-ground slipping, she relented with a shrug and a smile.

He stood, crossing the width of the room to kiss her cheek.

“Furniture’s staying, aye? I’ll start bringing the boxes down.”

She surveyed the room quickly for anything he might have missed and immediately sprung from his arms when she noticed it.

“No, no, we’re definitely bringing this,” she said, unplugging her bedside lamp and holding it out to him.

“This? Why?”

“Because,” she pressed on, turning it so he could see the dark indent of that early and unexpected impact on its metal shade. His smile widened as he took it from her.

“Och aye, wouldna want to forget that.”

“Also, we wouldn’t want to get in trouble for leaving any damaged things.”

“Should we no’ take the bedframe too then? I’m sure it’s not as strong as it was ‘afore we had our way with it, aye?”

Another ‘wink’ and Claire dissolved into giggles. Undoubtedly the exact opposite reaction he wanted, if the way he bent down and nipped her neck was any indication.

“I’ll get started loading the truck then, wee hyena.” He effortlessly slid the box of books to rest against his hip as he carried that and the lamp out the door.

“I shouldn’t be too long,” she called after him as she grabbed an empty box from their pile and set herself to work.

Jamie was in and out as he cleared the boxes and slowly, Claire watched her room disappear piece by piece, reverting itself back into the blank four-wall slate she’d had in first year.

She was standing by her window, the last of her clothes packed and waiting by the door, as she ran her fingers lightly across the duct tape she’d placed over the crack so many months ago.

“My fault, huh?” said Jamie’s low voice by her ear as he wrapped his arms around her from behind, pressing his warm body snugly against her. She melted into him.

“It’s certainly not mine,” she said, swaying gently with him.

“So, mo nighean donn,” he said after a time. “Proper send-off on the desk… or the bed?”

She turned in his arms, slowly dragging her palms up his chest until her fingers met behind his neck, feeling his shiver from over his shirt.

“Wherever we get to first,” she breathed against his lips before crushing both pairs together.

He growled into her open mouth, taking a hasty, if blind, step backwards just as Claire jumped, expecting him to catch her.

Which he did, albeit a second later than he should have, sending his back crashing to the floor and Claire toppling onto his chest.

She winced, and his hand immediately grasped her shin.

“Yer leg, mo chridhe?”

“Guess we know I’m definitely all healed,” she laughed, prompting his as their lips messily found each other again. “And how’s your…” She peered down guiltily, knowing she’d landed on something far more tender.

“Aye,” he croaked, taking hold of her hips and groaning in appreciation as she shifted, grinding against him. “That’s—ahh—better, lass.”

“Not yet,” she said, shifting further down so she could undo his belt and tug at his pants and underwear.

“Do ye one better.” He grabbed at her arm and easily flipped her onto her back, warm hands already travelling up under her shirt.

“Did you lock the door?” she said between pants.

“There’s no one else on campus, mo graidgh,” he chuckled.

His fingers slipped under her skirt, actively trying to elicit louder noises from her.

Bloody bastard.

“Practice for next se—mmph—semester, then? At Uncle Lamb’s—ahh!”

He pushed into her and she arched into him, one leg hooking around his hip.

“I dinna think we’ve ever done this in total privacy. No one hearing, aye?”

“There was that time in the alley.”

He groaned and –Jesus H. Christ—Claire made a mental note: mentioning their encounter in the alley yielded extremely good results. She grabbed his collar with one hand and his backside with her other, pushing him closer.

Deeper.

Several frenzied – and noisy – minutes later, she rolled over, propping her chin into the natural dip of his chest. He rubbed his hand up and down her back lazily.

“I’ve one more stop before we head to yer uncle’s, if that’s alright?”

They straightened out their clothes and grabbed the last of the boxes to bring to the truck. With one last look behind her, Claire closed the door and headed off with Jamie’s hand tight in hers.

“Really, here?” she said, realizing where he was leading them.

“Aye, here.” He pressed her back gently into the bark of their tree and kissed her softly. She ran her hand up to grasp the soft hair at his nape.

“The last time I was here, I—” He chuckled hesitantly, looking down past her hip to one side of the tree. She followed his gaze and saw that the bark was chipped and broken around one concentrated area.

“—well, I did that,” he said dispassionately, fingers tracing the damage, “right after our fight.”

Empty spaces filling themselves in, she reached for his hand – the one he’d said he spent his time doctoring – and pressed her lips to his knuckles.

“Stupid man,” he murmured, reveling in his warm chuckle.

“Aye, it’s a wonder ye put up wi’ me at all.”

She looked at him, simply looked, and tried to figure out exactly what string of cosmic miracles conspired to create someone so incredibly daft and indescribably sweet, and gift him to her no less.

She fished for her room key in her pocket and turned from him to the tree, kneeling down on the grass and ignoring all of his questions. Could she even begin to repay him for all the things he’d given her?

Likely not, but she was willing to spend the rest of her life trying.

“Just give me a second,” she said, working the jagged edge of the key into the already chipped bark.

When she was finished, she stood and let him examine it, watching – glorying in – how his expression went blank and catching the distinct flush that painted his cheeks.

There, replacing the damage on the tree and – she hoped – whatever was left in his heart.

J + C

Crude and crooked, but theirs. And if it worked for Brian and Ellen Fraser, it could certainly work for them.

He ran his finger around the curve of the C, then reached for her hand, pulling her to his chest.

“This doesn’t mean we’re building a farm here, though,” she said pointedly into his shirt.

“O’ course not,” he laughed, “Our place awaits us, aye?”

Her lips curved into a smile, thinking maybe she’d do something similar at Uncle Lamb’s too.

---

“Why do I get the distinct feeling I’ll walk into a wardrobe and fall into some magic fairy-tale kingdom?” Jamie said as they pulled up to the front doors of Uncle Lamb’s house.

Estate. Manor. Fortress. Whatever word suited it best. They’d turned off the main road and drove down quite a stretch of property before reaching the three-storey house.

“Or maybe meet a bald-headed telepath with an uncanny resemblance to Sir Patrick Stewart?”

“Hilarious,” Claire deadpanned as she held the door open for him.

But it was big, about the size – and echoing capacity – of Lallybroch, and adorned with the quiet reverence of a museum, artifacts and maps teasing a story he couldn’t wait for Claire to tell.

He divided his attention between her tour and her eyes, keen to see wisps of memories flash through them, to learn about the parts of her he didn’t already know.

She looked up at a suit of armour to one side of the sitting room and broke into a wide smile.

“I used to talk to him when Lamb was busy studying,” she said, running her hand down its arm like an old friend. “How sad is that?” she laughed after a moment.

“No’ sad, mo nighean donn,” he said, shaking his head and pulling her to him. “I want to know all of it, mo graidgh.”

He felt her shoulders relax against him as she reached up to stroke his cheek.

“Well, his name was Nicholas, if you must know,” she said primly.

Jamie nodded his head in the knight’s direction.

“Sir Nicholas, pleasure to meet ye. I see where Claire gets her calm, cordial, not-stubborn-in-the-slightest demea—ach!”

She’d elbowed him in the rib as she stepped out of his arms.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, shaking her at him. “Do you want to keep talking to Nick or come see my favourite room?”

“Depends,” he shrugged, “Does Nick ken any good stories?”

“Oh, hurry up,” she said, adorably exasperated as she grabbed his wrist and tugged him down the hallway.

Really, he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Behind large double doors and Claire’s brilliantly eager smile was a library. A large one at that, just like everything else in the house.

“The best travel companions, really,” she said, leaning against one of the tables.

“And what was wee Claire Beauchamp reading, then? Treasure Island? Harry Potter?”

“Those, and all Lamb’s dusty history books too.”

“And poetry, by the looks of it,” he said, flipping through a book left open on – undoubtedly her uncle’s – large wooden desk.

She came to one side of him, peering down at the pages.

“One of the tenants must have left it open, or Lamb’s friends—Oh! That one was my favourite.”

His heart nearly stopped as he followed her fingers tracing the printed works on the thin paper.

He’d read it in class. Distinctly remembered it too, because it was when she was still in the Philippines and he’d spent that whole day missing her all the more because of it.

“Come and—”

“—let us live, my dear…”

[End of Part 16]

Read Part 17

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #jamie x claire #perfect distractions au #wr writing

163 notes · View notes

talesmaniac89 · 8 years ago

Text

The Costume Party

Summary: Dean x Reader - Dean and the reader go on a hunt at a costume party, where Dean has to deal with his jealousy as the guys can’t seem to keep their eyes off the reader.

Triggers: Jealousy

Word Count: 3671

Y/N = Your name ¦ Y/H/C = Your Hair Colour

---

“Remind me again… Why are we doing this?” You asked under your breath, tugging at your costume before reaching out and ringing the doorbell. Your eyes leaving the door to glance over at Dean. His cowboy hat slightly hid those gorgeous green eyes of his as he adjusted his holsters and smiled wryly.

“It’s our job,” He said as he looked up, tipping the cowboy hat towards you with a crooked smile. The gesture making you roll your eyes as you looked from his cowboy costume and down at your own Poison Ivy choice. Damn it, all the damned leaves were tickling your bare arms and honestly you missed your comfy cotton t-shirt. But, it was a costume party. And to fit in you had to dress up. With a sigh you glanced up at the still closed door, waiting for someone in the house to notice the doorbell over the loud thumping music from inside.

“Our unpaid, thankless job you mean?” You said, the sarcasm dripping from your painted lips akin to the poison that was the weapon of choice of your costume character. You loved what you did, you were a hunter - which meant you saved people. But, hell, normally you didn’t have to wear a green corset to do so. “Oh joy…”

“Yeah…. That one,” Dean chuckled as the two of you shared a wry grin, just as the door opened to reveal a man dressed as a typical Hollywood-esque zombie. Shouting over the music to apologise for not hearing the bell as you twisted your smiles to instead just look happy and maybe slightly tipsy before you entered the door into the Halloween party.

Someone within the house had messed with forces they shouldn’t have. All in the spirit of Halloween. Which might be why you had such a bleak view of the holiday. For some stupid reason there was always someone that thought that old creepy book with incantation would make for good party games or, like in this case, thought that old cursed object would be a perfect halloween decoration.

“Damn… What was it we’re looking for?” Dean asked, leaning close and speaking the words directly into your ear to be heard over the music. The close proximity of those full lips and the slightly woody, smoky scent of the hunter sending involuntary sparks of electricity through your body and into your heart. Of course, by the boyish grin was a clear indication of the hunter knowing exactly why you were there as you laughed along with him.

There were masks, everywhere… People wearing them, on the walls, hell, even the decorations had masks on. And it just so happened… The damned cursed item was, you guessed it, a fucking mask.

“I guess we’ll just have to go with the process of elimination,” You said, giving an overacted sigh as you looked around the room, accepting a bottle of beer from Dean as you kept glancing at the already drunk partygoers. The glass bottle was wet and cold in your hand from the already melting ice in the bucket Dean had swiped them from. “I’ll start… We can rule out the horse mask on the dude in the corner,” You added after a grateful smile and a quick sip of beer.

“And the feathery purple mask on the girl on his lap… Unless the demonic masked cwarriors had a flair for the dramatic,” Dean supplied, teasing a small laugh from you as you continued your cursed mask version of where’s Wally whilst walking among the busy crowds at the party.

Sure, it was a hunt, and both of you knew the importance of retrieving the mask. But, hell, it wasn’t as if the mask had killed anyone as of yet. It normally only did so after several days, and never when anyone but its owner was around. You might as well enjoy the little time alone you were getting with your crush in the midst of the loud Halloween crowd. No matter how hard enjoying yourself could be when the crowd around you only seemed to be getting louder and wilder with every new song.

What was it that made people wearing costumes act so strangely? Was it because they got to pretend to be someone else for a while? Hell, if someone had decided to wear the mask and was acting strangely in some way, would you even know in the already drunk crowd?

---

“I think we should split up, we’ll cover more ground that way,” You finally said with a sigh after a preliminary walk-through of the ground floor had yielded little result other than some drunk guy spilling some of his drink on your corset. Yet, no answer came from the older hunter, making you turn around to face him and figure out why he was so strangely quiet all of a sudden after having filled the whole evening with jokes and puns about costumes and masks.

Turning, you caught him glaring in the direction of someone across the room. The sight of his set jaw and burning green irises enough to make every muscle in your body tense. That was the look of a hunter. Meaning, he’d found something. Turning your head in an effort to follow his line of sight you saw nothing out of the ordinary at first glance. Speaking up as you turned back to face him and looked away from the small group of guys gathered by the wall he had been glaring at.

“Did you find it?” You asked, unable to hide your excitement at the prospect of leaving the party behind and finally being able to breath again once the costume and corset came off. But as Dean quickly tore his eyes off of whatever he had been glaring at he shook his head with a sigh.

“No, no sign of it…” He said, his voice still thick with some unidentifiable emotion that sounded suspiciously like anger. “Sorry, did you say something?” The hunter added, his eyes remorseful for his momentary lapse into… Something… You still couldn’t identify the reason for his glare as you looked in the direction of the group that had held his attention before you spoke up.

“Let’s split up. We’ll cover more ground, and once we find it, we can text each other to meet up,” You said, looking back up at the cowboy-clad hunter and repeating your original idea. Already pivoting to take a step in the direction of the kitchen as you expected nothing more than an easy yes from the hunter. After all, it wasn’t that dangerous of a situation. You could deal with the drunkards, and the mask was not a threat until someone was left alone with it.

“No way (Y/N), it ain’t safe,” Dean grumbled, his words stopping you as you looked back at him, raising an eyebrow at the cowboy before making a point of looking around at the drunken masses. “I mean… We don’t know everything about the mask, better we stick together,” He added when he saw your confused look.

You shrugged and started walking together with him through the rooms again. You honestly didn’t see the danger. Not when you could pretty much kick the ass of everyone in the room. But hell, you weren’t gonna complain when his suggestion let you walk side by side and share a laugh with the damned sexy hunter. The perks of the job and all.

---

“Hey there, think I would survive a kiss?” The slurred words came after your second round around the house party. The clearly drunken man dressed as a gladiator took an uneven step towards you as he smiled at his own ‘genius’ pickup line. Clearly a reference to your costume. “I think we should give it a go… For s...psy… science,” He slurred as he stumbled close enough for you to smell the whole brewery off of him.

As you wrinkled your nose in disgust, at both the excessively heavy smell of liquor as well as the awful lines you took a quick step backwards. Readying yourself to turn him down and send him packing. Yet, before you could tell him off, Dean had stepped between you and the drunk Don Juan, blocking him from your view with his broad back straight and tense.

“Dean, it’s not worth it. And gladiator boy, thanks, but no thanks… Go sober off,” You shot out before the two of them would start comparing testosterone levels. Pulling at Dean’s arm, you sighed and rolled your eyes at the clear macho display in front of you as the gladiator and cowboy squared off. “What the hell Dean?” You added with a final tug on Dean’s arm to make him turn to face you again.

“He was being an asshole,” Dean grumbled, the dark look in his eyes not fully having the time to disappear before they met with yours again. His glare softening quickly as he refocused his attention on you instead of the drunken man. “Sorry,” He added sheepishly as you set your eyes on him, giving your best impression of Sam’s bitch glare.

“I could’ve handled him myself Winchester,” You said with a sigh, the worst of your annoyance fading when the hunter threw you a boyish grin.

“I know… You kick ass. Sorry, I guess the case has me acting a bit tense,” Dean said, finally returning to his bright self, though you could tell that he was still wound somewhat tightly. Like he was ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. “Let’s look in the next room,” He added with a quick glance thrown over his shoulder where the gladiator was leaning against the nearby wall, still looking in you direction.

Placing his hand on the small of your back, Dean led the way towards the door and another crowd of party guests, as if he was whisking you away from the spartan. You wanted to stay annoyed, or at least once more push your “I am woman, hear me roar and fucking demolish everything” thoughts, but the proximity of the hunter made that hard.

The heat of his hand on the small of your back thawed the butterflies in your stomach, bringing them back to life as your heart thumped along to the heavy bass of the stereo system. Having Dean Winchester that close was like wrapping your mind in cotton. Only the sound of his voice, the feel of his skin on yours and the waves of safety blanketing you seemed able to break through the chaotic mess in your head.

Over the years you had started falling for him, harder and harder. These hunts that only included the two of you were always the hardest. Usually when Sammy was there, it was easier to keep things platonic. But when it was the two of you… Damn it… You couldn’t even stay annoyed at the adorable bastard. Not when you knew, deep down, that he was only looking out for you in his own clumsy way.

Dean Winchester always felt he had to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. And that included keeping the few people he let in close to his heart safe. Even from perceived dangers. He knew very well that Sam, Cas and you could protect yourself. Yet he always tried being your shield. Never letting you step in front to protect him instead.

Sure, he might be wearing a cowboy costume, but to you Dean always seemed to try to act like a superhero. A knight in jeans and flannel. Giving up everything for those around him. His heart too big to let others carry any of his pain in fear of hurting them. And you loved him for it, albeit silently, though he could sometimes annoy the hell out of you.

Like right that second, you noted. As you watched Dean’s whole body tense up again. His eyes hardening and jaw locked as he wrapped his arm fully around your waist before speaking up over the music towards the man you hadn’t even seen reaching out for you. Damn it, so much for hunting reflexes. Dean’s arm around you had you on cloud nine to such an extent that even a civilian could sneak up on you. The kid seemed to be a few years younger than you and clearly had decided to go the killer clown route in his costume choices and he wasn’t the first one of the night. It was probably a good thing Sammy hadn’t come along.

“She ain’t interested,” Dean barked, before the guy could even speak up. The drunk guy’s eyes widening as they left your corseted cleavage to look at Dean’s arm around your waist instead. His hands shooting up in a sign of surrender as he stepped quickly back, nearly falling over in his two sizes too large clown shoes.

“Sorry dude, didn’t know” The clown said, his words apologetic, though you honestly didn’t need to hide behind Dean to put a kid in a clown costume back in place.

Raising an eyebrow at the annoyed, yet clearly over-protective tone in Dean’s voice you tried to catch his eye from where he was still busy glaring at the clown. Damn, you’d think the drunk civilian was a Rakshasa instead of just a party boy with the added social lubrication of a few drinks too many from the way Dean was looking at him.

Sighing you tugged at Dean’s arm, unwrapping it from your waist before using your hold on his wrist to force the hunter to follow you over to a relatively more quiet part of the party. Keeping silent on your full walk over until you finally pivoted on your heel to turn to face him, letting your (Y/H/C) hair whip around with you for added dramatic effect.

“What’s your problem Winchester?” You said, your voice more tired and annoyed than actually angry as you let go of his wrist to fold your arms across your waist. “You know I can handle myself,”

“I don’t have a problem, they do,” Dean said his voice still deep with some unidentifiable emotion as his green eyes burned like a forest fire. Unlike last time, Dean seemed unable to quickly let go of his annoyance with the drunk man. His words coming out rushed as he continued speaking before you could ask him to clarify. “They think they’re good enough for you. They won’t ever be…”

The hunter caught himself a moment too late. The words were already out as his sentence died down and his eyes widened in shock at what he had just said. If you didn’t know better, it would have sounded to you as if the hunter was jealous. But… That couldn’t be true. Could it?

“Dean… What’s up? You’re not making much sense,” You said, trying to urge the hunter to continue as he cleared his throat, the fight finally leaving him completely.

“Nothing… I mean, I just think you deserve more than some drunk guy hitting at you at a party,” Dean mumbled, his words barely eligible through the chaotic mess of people talking and the loud music of the party. Still, you caught them clearly. “I’m just sayin’... You deserve a good man, one that can make you happy. Not like them, and not a hunter either. Someone real, good, and safe,” He continued, clearly noticing your incredulous look as he kept digging the hole deeper for himself.

Though you found his protective nature endearing at most times, you couldn’t help the annoyance you felt bubbling to the surface. Sure, it wasn’t his fault. He cared for you, as a friend, and he didn’t know how much it hurt to hear him say you deserved someone who wasn’t him. Not when he was all you could think about.

“I deserve to be happy!” Unable to stop yourself you felt your hands curl into fists as you spat out the words. The words seemed to leave you on their own, leaving you powerless to stop them as annoyance turned into a pained anger at his words. “I know I have to give up on you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna be happy!”

“Wha…” Dean’s stunned silent look and the breathless half-question that left him, was enough to make you catch what you’d just said. Your anger-fueled words had basically been a confession of your feelings for the hunter. A shitty confession, but a confession nonetheless… And after you’d managed to keep them hidden for years, misguided protective feelings would be the end of you. Typical.

“Shit…” You groaned, trying to figure out how to explain away your words. To at least keep the hunter as a friend. You knew Dean, you knew how hard things hit him. The guilt for breaking your heart would surely weigh him down and destroy your easy friendship. That fear had kept you quiet for years. What the hell was in the beers at this party? Some kind of fucking truth serum?

“What did you just say?” Dean’s voice was low, but in your panic of trying to find a way to suck the words back in the rest of the world had gone static and quiet. Only your own frantic mind and Dean’s words could break through as you looked for the right words to say. Opening and closing your mouth before deciding to take the cowardly way out and just push it all back down. The hunter’s choice. Don’t deal with the emotions, just push ‘em back down and bury ‘em under enough bodies to make everyone forget you even had a heart.

“Look, just forget it. Let’s find that damned mask,” You said with a sigh as you turned to run away from the conversation you honestly didn’t think you could ever have. Not without your heart suffering the consequences. And hell, even if you had to have it. You definitely didn’t want to have it at a drunken house party surrounded by people dressed in costumes who were busy taking part in some seasonal mating dance. With a cursed mask on the premises as the cherry on top.

“No, I’m not gonna forget it and that mask ain’t going anywhere,” Dean said, his voice taking on a nearly panicked tone as he reached out and stopped you from running away from your own mess. “What did you say (Y/N)?”

“Dean…” You hesitated, unwilling to look up at him as you instead focused on his cowboy boots. Your mouth dry and throat burning as you tried to figure out what you should say. Should you come clean? Tell him you’d loved him for years. How standing shoulder to shoulder with him through several apocalypses, as a hunter had made you fall harder for him than you ever thought possible? What would happen then? Would you have to leave the bunker?

“Please, please tell me I didn’t hear you wrong,” Dean’s voice nearly broke over the words when you didn’t speak up. The pleading, nearly sorrowful tone to his voice making you finally look back up where green eyes were watching you carefully. A small hopeful light brightening them, though you could see that hope wavering more for every second you kept quiet. ”Look, (Y/N), I admit it… I’ve been a jealous bastard all night. It’s just… You look so gorgeous, and I mean… I’ve loved you for years. And I’ve never worked up the courage to say anything. Yet these guys think they can just…” Dean was rambling. You knew it, he knew it… And as his voice finally died down with a sigh you couldn’t help yourself. Smiling at the adorable dork of a hunter in front of you.

“Took you long enough Winchester,” You said with a laugh, reaching up before the last hope in his eyes was extinguished and pulling at the lapels of his black shift as you lifted yourself up to give the man a soft kiss in lieu of an answer. “You didn’t hear me wrong,” You mumbled against his lips, your own smile brightening as you felt Dean’s full lips spread into a happy smile before his arms wrapped around you and deepened your kiss with a hungry need.

“Should’ve dressed as batman,” Dean mumbled once you parted to breathe as his arms still held you close. Though his tone was light and joking you could feel his heavy heartbeat matching yours and the small quiver of nervous elation in his voice. “Then we would’ve matched,”

“Nah… I like the cowboy costume,” You laughed, giving him a quick peck on the lips before making a show of pulling slightly away from him to give him an appreciative once over. Damn, the man really could pull off the cowboy look. “You look good,”

“Yeah?” Dean gave you a boyish grin and tipped his hat. The last of the slight worry and pain in his eyes gone after your whispered confessions to each other during your desperate kisses. Finally the hunter was back to the man you loved, his green eyes warm and bright like a summer’s day as he lifted his eyebrows in a show of hiding his own bashfulness.

“Yeah, y’know what they say…” You said, letting your words die out with a teasing grin as you waited for the hunter to take the bait. Which he oh so willingly did.

“What?” He asked, once more pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t bear to be away from you anymore.

“Save a horse… Ride a cowboy,” You said, holding back your own laugh until Dean’s surprised half cough, half laugh pulled you along with it as it vibrated from his chest and into your body.

“That can be arranged,” He chuckled, lifting your head by your chin before cutting short your bubbling laughter with another mind-numbingly soft kiss.

Sure, it was a thankless, unpaid job… But it sure as hell had it’s benefits.

---

Please do let me know if you wish to be removed from the tag list

Tags: @auszimbo @upon-a-girl @gallifreyansass @mogaruke @skybinx-blog @delisp @jensen-jarpad @supernatural-jackles @27bmm @just-another-busy-fangirl @ecsj @deathtonormalcy56 @imboredsueme @itsthesamegametoday @riversong-sam @dslocum89 @authoressskr @spooookyscary @winchesterbrothersforever @maydayfigment @ria132love @kristendansmith

335 notes · View notes

tf2-plus2 · 2 years ago

Note

(

I did plan an OC, which is kinda more like a Spy-sona, who is an humanoid-like alien who is from an unknown planet from outer space. Space Spy goes by He/him and by They/them pronouns [mostly refered as they them]

Description on appearance: He is shown to be a Purple Spy with a matching purple top hat [The suit has white folds and has white, fancy frilled sleeves] with a gold ribbon tied around it with a yellow moon on said ribbon. They have slightly pointy ears, green eyes with a light green glimmer to them and has pale purple skin (although he disguises himself to appear human). He also wears a gold bowtie with a yellow star in the middle of it.

Space Spy also wears purple and gold space shoes. He would sometimes wear a light pale purple/pale magenta jetpack with a single horisontal grey stripe near the thrusters, as well as the part where the person would wear the jetpack on is gray.

)

(that sounds so cool! I bet he'd look CELESTIAL in game! I've got Assassin, Retriever, and newly made Arcanist, the latter of which... may join the blog a while down the line or may just be a discord only muse... We'll see!)

#announcer speaks (ooc)#Alert! (Answered Ask)#Battle Spray (Art)#smoke and knives (assassin)#paint n pickup (retriever)#Spells and Spirits (Arcanist)#((fun fact Arcanist came from an old design for Liasion))#((who now needs a whole new design))

5 notes · View notes

aphroditeblogs · 5 years ago

Text

m u s i n g s : homecoming

(prompt #2)

When we used to live with my great grandmother when she got cancer, my father drove an old Nissan pick-up truck that he painted red because he thought it “looked cool.”

My Lola Gulang’s house was situated at the corner of a big lot of land, surrounded by trees and flowers that she’d planted. Her children had gotten her house renovated so it was now made of cement instead of decaying wood. Where her old wooden house had stood in the middle, there was now a payag we called the Octagon (because it was shaped like an octagon), where they’d play mahjong. Our grandma has gotten a tree house built for us kids on the biggest mahogany tree on the lawn. My brother, sister, and I were given small plots of land just in front of the house where we would plant flowers (or try to, in mine and my sister’s cases; my brother was the only one the plants would grow for, which made him Lola’s favorite).

I’d spent a good portion of my childhood here, with our two dogs Marina and Odie, two yellow Labrador Retrievers given to us by people who figured they didn’t want dogs a bit too late.

It was my daily chore to feed the dogs after breakfast and after dinner. My mom would feed them for lunch since my siblings and I ate at my father’s office downtown. My brother would water my grandma’s plants everyday. He’d wake up at 5:30--an ungodly hour to be up, if you ask me--and would sit with my Lola on the porch, eating shakoy and stealing sips of coffee. I think this, aside from the fact that he was the only one who could keep the plants alive, was the reason he was Lola’s favorite.

The driveway was only gravel, and whenever my dad went out of town (he usually did because of his job), we’d wait for the telltale sign of the car coming. The dogs would start barking, excited that Dad was home. He was the only one who ever really played with them for a good amount of time as all of us were asthmatic.

They’d meet the car at the gate, tails wagging. My dad would open the window as he drove so he could greet the dogs, and my mom would call us out of our rooms to greet our dad.

My brother was almost always the first one our of the room he shared with our parents, with me and my sister trudging along for our little routine.

Sometimes I sit and wish we never grew up, that we had the choice to go back to the simplicity of being kids.

I realize how trivial the sound of the wheels of our old pickup truck crunching on the loose gravel, my little brother’s squeals of excitement (because surely Dad brought toys for him), and my our dogs barking in glee is, but I long for those days when I’d hear my dad laugh as he played with the dogs, and my mom would have us set the table because almost always, my dad was hungry when he got home.

Looking back on these things, though, I understand how these were pieces of my childhood I’d never get back. My great grandmother screaming at us for using her flowers for crowns, my mother telling us to do our chores, and my dad coming home from a weekend away.

We grew up, whether we chose it or not. I’ll never see my great grandmother again, and we moved out of that house long ago, but that sound of the pickup truck pulling up to the house will always be a marker of my childhood, and if I think about it, I know that in those days I was truly happy, and I don’t think anything could ever compete with that.

0 notes

ra-veela-claw · 8 years ago

Text

The Real Prize

Hi lovelies!! This took me so long & I apologize for that! But this is finally done for the Anon who requested, I hope you like it! Enjoy! xx

Imagine: Could you do a story where reader beats Draco at Quidditch (before they're a couple), and he gets so angry he accidentally lets it slip out that he likes her?

“Y/N!” Your ears perked at the sound of your own name, spoken with purpose by a smooth, silvery voice. Although the voice made the hair on your arms stand up with secret excitement, you stopped in your tracks and rolled your eyes. You sighed, a coy smile tugging at your lips.

“What is it, Malfoy?” you merely turned your head to look over your shoulder at the white-blonde-haired boy, trying not to seem too interested in the beautiful figure approaching you. The infamous Slytherin Prince smirked.

“I hope you and Y/H are prepared to lose tomorrow,” smugness weighed heavily in his voice. You gave a small snort of laughter before turning towards him.

“Oh, please,” your arms crossed across your chest. “Only in your wildest dreams might that happen, Malfoy. You and your little Slytherin wankers better step up your game before you even think about bashing the team that knocked you all on your arses last week.”

Despite the fact that Draco irritated most beyond belief, you always found him quite amusing, the way he pranced about as if he were a gift to mankind. The two of you weren’t close, but there was always a sort of playfulness between you.

Draco bristled and cleared his throat, clearly taken aback by your boldness. A small smirk remained plastered on your face. Got you, Draco. Still, a part of you worried of what his reaction might be.

“Well,” he started, straightening his tie. “I suppose we’ll just have to see now, won’t we, Y/N?” His tone was still slightly rigid, but nevertheless he quirked those nearly translucent eyebrows in the manner you and everyone else was accustomed to. You offered a smile and tilted your head.

“If you mean you’ll see us catching the snitch to win the game, then yes we will see, darling!” with that snide remark (which you patted yourself on the back for), you turned on your heel and walked briskly from the hall. Draco stood, mouth nearly agape, watching your figure disappear before tugging his robes straight and walking away.

When you were sure he could no longer see you, you shook your head fervently and bit your lip incredulously. I can’t believe I just said that to him…to MALFOY. And yet, your eyes were sparkling and your heart beat with a thrill that seemed to stem from more than just a snarky comeback and a playful relationship. In the back of your mind, you could still see his cool grey eyes watching you and practically gleaming when you spoke. To your surprise, a tinge of pink danced hot across your cheeks at the thought of him.

With a shake of your head, you sighed and continued walking until you successfully made it through the interior of the school and out into the pleasant spring air. You breathed in deeply; the scents of the budding flowers and saplings combined and painted a serene picture across the rolling landscape. You surely couldn’t complain about the aesthetics of your lovely school. The chirping of birds overhead drew your gaze before settling on the Quiddich pitch, not a stone’s throw away. Your eyebrow quirked as you thought of the match tomorrow.

Might as well get some practice in…after all, now you’ve to prove yourself to Draco. You sighed and headed towards the locker room where your broom was stored. After grabbing it from your locker, you made your way to the pitch. Seeing how it was so unseasonably warm, you kicked off your shoes.

Your toes wiggled in the scratchy, tickly grass of the pitch woven between them. It was still wet with dew from the night before, and your lips curled upon feeling blades squish under your bare feet. Despite your soft displeasure with the foreign sensation, you found yourself suddenly determined and excited for this opportunity. Rarely could one find the pitch to oneself, and what better way to brush up before the match tomorrow?

A cool, gentle breeze flirted around with your hair, hanging loosely in a band at the nape of your neck. The wind lingered at a soft consistency, perfect for a bit of flying.

A satisfied smirk landed on your lips as you tossed your shoes into the stands, along with your sweatshirt and scarf. As you mounted your long trusted broom and ascended a few feet from the ground, you cursed yourself for forgetting a practice quaffle. Well, now, how are you to practice chasing without a quaffle?

You sighed, but continued into the air until you were parallel with the three hoops you knew so well. You could imagine the game already, as clear in your mind’s eye as the cloudless sky before you. The metallic of the snitch would gleam almost as bright as the sun which shone off it just as Madame Hooch released it into the atmosphere, followed by the erratic bludgers and then the quaffle. Everything would move fairly quickly then. For starters, you’d race for the quaffle, dodging this way and that to avoid Slytherin players and flying bludgers alike.

As you pictured the exhilarating game, you found yourself ghosting out the movements yourself on the lonely pitch. You lurched forward on your broom, hurling through the air towards the hoops. The wind howled and streamed through your loose hair, the band holding the strands in place long lost to the relentless force of your determination. With an effortless flip in midair, you could clearly picture the quaffle being launched through the tallest of the hoops.

Panting, you smiled with satisfaction. Your hair hung in your flushed face and you giggled as you turned and wheeled through the air back to the center of the pitch. With a few more twists and turns, you paused and hovered far above the starting point. I suppose this is the view seekers must have, you thought to yourself, glancing around at the new perspective this offered you. In the distance, you could see the rolling green hills, the majestic blue and purple of the towering mountains, and the daunting mystery of the Black Lake. It was utterly breathtaking. Oh, to be a seeker.

You suddenly were reminded of Draco, as he was the seeker for the Slytherin team. There must be soft spot in his hard exterior; you’d have to be daft not to appreciate what seekers had the privilege of seeing and doing, for that matter. A blush crept across your cheeks as you imagined him positioned opposite of you. His white-blonde hair would be positively beaming in the sunlight, slicked back almost too perfectly from his face, which held a constant expression of confidence. You imagined his grey eyes, so light in the openness of daytime, meeting yours and smiling with play…and perhaps something more. He’d move swiftly and fluidly through the air as if he were native to the sky.

Before you knew it, you felt a goofy smile creep across your lips. You pushed your hair back from your face and found yourself laughing softly to yourself. Merlin, what’s wrong with you? Why are you thinking so much about him?

“Oy, Y/L/N!” a familiar voice broke you from your thoughts and nearly made you fall off your broom. You scrambled to keep yourself straight as your cheeks burned.

“Draco!” although you intended your tone to be one of annoyance, you were truly surprised and almost giddy that the very boy you’d been daydreaming about was there. Draco ascended towards you, a sly expression plastered on his fair face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was holding back a smile.

“Thought you’d get a bit of practice in before tomorrow, did you? I suppose you’ll be needing it after all,” Draco nearly kicked back on his broom, clasping his hands behind his head and shooting you a mischievous smirk.

“Don’t be silly, Malfoy,” you chuckled and stretched your arms. “I was merely imagining the foolish look on your face when I score the winning throw. As you can see, I haven’t even got a quaffle.”

Draco rolled his eyes and tossed the quaffle he’d brought towards you. You grabbed it from the air swiftly and quirked your eyebrows.

“Y/H’s prize chaser can’t even remember to bring a quaffle to practice,” he tsked and sat up straight on his broom. “How pathetic.”

Your eyebrows remained raised at his crass remark. Your mouth flattened into a line. Somehow, even through his arrogance, you were still insanely attracted to him.

“I can beat you any day, Malfoy,” you nearly spat, flipping your hair over your shoulder and tossing the quaffle between your hands. He scoffed, but couldn’t keep the small grin from his pale lips.

“We’ll see about that,” with an effortless lurch forward, the quaffle was swiped from your grasp, and Draco floated away. You bit your lip and smiled, shrugging in an implied agreement to his proposed two-on-two pickup game.

“Draco Malfoy as a chaser, now there’s something I’d love to see,” you chuckled and swooped into position. He snorted in response and held out the quaffle between the two of you. Your eyes locked with intensity, and you pushed your own swooning feelings aside as he launched the quaffle into the air. You raced towards it, shoving Draco with your shoulder to obtain the target and carrying it with care as you flew past him. The Slytherin Prince wasted no time, staying close at your tail and making numerous grabs for the quaffle. He grunted with effort, and you wheeled through the air into another signature flip, sending the quaffle through a hoop.

Draco watched the quaffle drop with a perplexed expression, his grey eyes swimming with doubt. You smirked and pulled up beside him.

“One to nothing, Malfoy,” you ruffled his slicked back hair, effectively ruining its composure. Draco nearly growled and slicked it back into place, drifting disgruntledly to the ground to retrieve the quaffle. You could tell his pride was hurt a smidge, but you shrugged it off and continued back to start.

The rest of your game went quite similarly to the first round: you scored, and Draco grew more irritated. Finally, after the fifth round, the two of you sweating and out of breath in the warm spring day, Draco scoffed and threw the quaffle to the ground with great force. Your eyebrows shot up and you followed him as he descended to the ground. He walked a little ways away from you, kicking at the grass. You tried to lighten the mood.

“Didn’t realize you were such a sore loser, Malfoy,” you chuckled and put your hands on your hips. To your dismay and surprise, Draco whirled around, his eyes ablaze and his mouth twisted into a sneer.

“Shove off, Y/L/N!” he spat. Your eyes widened and you took a step back in bewilderment.

“What in Bloody Hell is your problem? It’s just a bloody game,” you tried to reason with him, although his tone was rubbing off on you. Your ears burned with a growing annoyance. Draco paced erratically in front of you and snarled at the ground.

“I lost to you…I can’t believe I lost to you!” he shook his head feverishly and you frowned, crossing your arms and tapping your foot. He might be cute when he’s angry, but Merlin he’s irritating! Truly, he resembled a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“And what on earth is so bad about that?” you chewed on your lip, your eyebrows knit together. Draco covered his face.

“It wasn’t supposed to go like this! I was supposed to impress you,” he pulled his hands from his face and your heart nearly fluttered when you saw his cheeks burning pink. He sighed.

“The one time I like a girl…and I get beaten by her at Quiddich,” Draco mumbled and lightly kicked the quaffle aside, looking truly defeated. Nonetheless, your breath hitched in your throat and you stood erect and still. He likes me!

You took a step forward and gently placed your hand on his arm.

“Draco…” his eyes darted to your hand, then to your eyes. You were at a loss for words as you fell into the icy depths of his gaze. He stammered, never looking away:

“I just…wanted to impress you,” his voice was not much more than a whisper, and he unsurely placed his hand against your cheek. Your insides tightened and you held your breath.

In the silence, Draco assumed more confidence and grabbed your waist with his other hand, leaning down to press his lips against yours. Fire ignited under your skin and you blossomed at his touch, kissing him with a sudden need that had been built up in secret for so long. His lips worked against yours as he held you close to him. You pulled back only to gaze once more into his placid eyes, now resembling warm liquid silver. You smiled and stroked his cheek.

“Hate to say it…but I think I’ve won again, Draco,” you giggled, and Draco placed a kiss on the tip of your nose. He smiled and shook his head.

“Oh no, darling…you’re the real prize,” you blushed and smiled as bright as the spring day before connecting your lips to his once more. He lifted you from the ground, and you realized the thrill you’d felt all this time was simply from him.

#Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter requests #draco #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy request #imagine #requests #quiddich

129 notes · View notes

source-sdk-tutorial · 7 years ago

Text

16: Vehicle HUD & Power Ups

Now that we have power ups, speedominter and lap information it's time we create a single vehicle HUD to display everything, rather than have individual HUD items spaced around the screen.

First thing we need to do is copy in the power up icons from the source racer client files. Copy sourceracer\materials\sprites\hud to:

C:\development\halflife2\AirboatRacer\mp\game\mod_hl2mp\materials\sprites\hud

Now go to VS the .h and .cpp files: hud_airboat.h and hud_airboat.cpp in Client / Source Files / AirboatRacer / UI. Now follow the excellent Basic Hud Modification tutorial on Valve and change the references to HudImort to HudAirboat we end up with the following header file:

#include "hudelement.h" #include <vgui_controls> using namespace vgui; class CHudAirboatRacer : public CHudElement, public Panel { DECLARE_CLASS_SIMPLE(CHudAirboatRacer, Panel); public: CHudAirboatRacer(const char *pElementName); void togglePrint(); virtual void OnThink(); protected: virtual void Paint(); int m_nPowerup1; int m_nPowerup2; };

The other changes I made is I created two member variables to how our power up textures. The cpp file should look like this:

#include "hud.h" #include "cbase.h" #include "hud_airboatracer.h" #include "iclientmode.h" #include "hud_macros.h" #include "vgui_controls/controls.h" #include "vgui/ISurface.h" #include "tier0/memdbgon.h" using namespace vgui; DECLARE_HUDELEMENT(CHudAirboatRacer); static ConVar show_powerup("show_powerup", "1", 0, "toggles powerup"); CHudAirboatRacer::CHudAirboatRacer(const char *pElementName) : CHudElement(pElementName), BaseClass(NULL, "HudAirboatRacer") { Panel *pParent = g_pClientMode->GetViewport(); SetParent(pParent); SetVisible(false); SetAlpha(255); m_nPowerup1 = surface()->CreateNewTextureID(); surface()->DrawSetTextureFile(m_nPowerup1, "sprites/hud/jumpicon", true, true); m_nPowerup2 = surface()->CreateNewTextureID(); surface()->DrawSetTextureFile(m_nPowerup2, "sprites/hud/nitroicon", true, true); SetHiddenBits(HIDEHUD_PLAYERDEAD | HIDEHUD_NEEDSUIT); } void CHudAirboatRacer::Paint() { SetPaintBorderEnabled(false); surface()->DrawSetTexture(m_nPowerup1); surface()->DrawTexturedRect(0, 0, 64, 64); surface()->DrawSetTexture(m_nPowerup2); surface()->DrawTexturedRect(64, 0, 128, 64); } void CHudAirboatRacer::togglePrint() { if (!show_powerup.GetBool()) this->SetVisible(false); else this->SetVisible(true); } void CHudAirboatRacer::OnThink() { togglePrint(); BaseClass::OnThink(); }

As you can see in constructor instead of setting up one texture we create two, one for each power up. The paint method has also been updated to paint both for now so we can see they're woring. Now we need to define HudAirboat in Resource/HudLayout.res. I've stripped out all existing hud definitions so we're left with only the two we've added. We'll keep HudSpeed there for now for reference:

"Resource/HudLayout.res" { HudSpeed { "fieldName" "HudSpeed" "xpos" "16" "ypos" "432" "wide" "102" "tall" "36" "visible" "1" "enabled" "1" "PaintBackgroundType" "2" "text_xpos" "8" "text_ypos" "20" "digit_xpos" "50" "digit_ypos" "2" "TextColor" "255 255 255 192" "TextFont" "Default" } HudAirboatRacer { "fieldName" "HudAirboatRacer" "xpos" "16" "ypos" "350" "wide" "102" "tall" "72" "visible" "1" "enabled" "1" "PaintBackgroundType" "2" } }

If you compile/run now you'll see our new HudAirboat box:

You can disable this with the convar: show_powerup 0

Now what we want to do is when a player touches a power up store the power up they have and communicate that to HudAirboat show it can display that icon. I've decided I only want racers to have one power up at a time. To pickup another power up they have to use the one they're holding. To communicate to the HUD you set-up a thing called a HUD message. This allows the engine to send messages to the HUD.

In our hud_airboat.h we declare Init() and MsgFunc_Powerup methods, the MsgFunc_Powerup will handle the messages the HUD receives, these methods must start with MsgFunc_. We also create an int variable to hold what type of power up we have:

#include "hudelement.h" #include <vgui_controls> using namespace vgui; class CHudAirboatRacer : public CHudElement, public Panel { DECLARE_CLASS_SIMPLE(CHudAirboatRacer, Panel); public: CHudAirboatRacer(const char *pElementName); void togglePrint(); virtual void OnThink(); void Init(void); virtual void MsgFunc_Powerup(bf_read &msg); protected: virtual void Paint(); int m_nPowerup1; int m_nPowerup2; int m_iPowerupType; };

Then in hud_airboat.cpp we neen to called the DECLARE_HUD_MESSAGE macro:

DECLARE_HUD_MESSAGE(CHudAirboatRacer, Powerup);

Then we create our new Init method that hooks the Powerup message function to our class and the powerup message function itself that extracts the int that was sent and stores it in our member variable:

void CHudAirboatRacer::Init(void) { HOOK_HUD_MESSAGE(CHudAirboatRacer, Powerup); } void CHudAirboatRacer::MsgFunc_Powerup(bf_read &msg) { m_iPowerupType = msg.ReadByte(); DevMsg("Received Powerup Type: %d\n", m_iPowerupType); }

Now we need to do some work on our power up class CAR_Powerup. First thing we need to do is create private member variable integer array of players that will store what power up a player has and then create a random power up if they don't already have one:

#include "cbase.h" #include "vehicle_base.h" // memdbgon must be the last include file in a .cpp file!!! #include "tier0/memdbgon.h" class CAR_Powerup : public CBaseAnimating { public: DECLARE_CLASS(CAR_Powerup, CBaseAnimating); DECLARE_DATADESC(); void Precache(void); void Spawn(void); void PowerupThink(void); virtual void StartTouch(CBaseEntity *pOther); private: int m_iPlayerPowerup[MAX_PLAYERS]; CPropVehicleDriveable *pDrivable; }; LINK_ENTITY_TO_CLASS(race_powerup, CAR_Powerup); BEGIN_DATADESC(CAR_Powerup) DEFINE_ENTITYFUNC(StartTouch), END_DATADESC() void CAR_Powerup::Precache() { BaseClass::Precache(); PrecacheModel("models/pickup/pickup.mdl"); } void CAR_Powerup::Spawn(void) { Precache(); BaseClass::Spawn(); SetModel("models/pickup/pickup.mdl"); ResetSequence(LookupSequence("Idle")); SetThink(&CAR_Powerup::PowerupThink); SetNextThink(gpGlobals->curtime + 0.1f); AddSolidFlags(FSOLID_NOT_SOLID | FSOLID_TRIGGER); VPhysicsInitNormal(SOLID_BBOX, GetSolidFlags(), false); } void CAR_Powerup::PowerupThink() { StudioFrameAdvance(); DispatchAnimEvents(this); SetNextThink(gpGlobals->curtime + 0.1f); } void CAR_Powerup::StartTouch(CBaseEntity *pOther) { if(stricmp(pOther->GetClassname(), "prop_vehicle_airboat") == 0) { DevMsg("POWERUP TOUCH: %s\n", pOther->GetClassname()); pDrivable = dynamic_cast<cpropvehicledriveable>(pOther); if (pDrivable) { // Retrieve driver CBaseEntity *pDriver = pDrivable->GetDriver(); // Retrieve player index int iPlayerIndex = pDriver->entindex() - 1; // Check if they don't already have a power up if (m_iPlayerPowerup[iPlayerIndex] == NULL) { // Give them a random power up m_iPlayerPowerup[iPlayerIndex] = RandomInt(1, 2); DevMsg("POWERUP GIVEN: %d\n", m_iPlayerPowerup[iPlayerIndex]); } } } BaseClass::StartTouch(pOther); }

A quick compile/run driving over a power up now gives you a random power up of either 1 or 2. The need to send the message to the HUD:

// Check if they don't already have a power up if (m_iPlayerPowerup[iPlayerIndex] == NULL) { // Store the driver, to be used later for launching the powerup m_Player[iPlayerIndex] = pDriver; // Give them a random power up m_iPlayerPowerup[iPlayerIndex] = RandomInt(1, 2); // Set message recipient CSingleUserRecipientFilter filter((CBasePlayer *)pDriver); filter.MakeReliable(); // Create message UserMessageBegin(filter, "Powerup"); WRITE_BYTE(m_iPlayerPowerup[iPlayerIndex]); // Send message MessageEnd(); //send message DevMsg("POWERUP GIVEN: %d\n", m_iPlayerPowerup[iPlayerIndex]); }

The Valve tutorial how to send messages to the HUD is HUD Elements. The final thing we need to do is register our power up message with the engine. Search the entire solution for usermessages->Register( "ItemPickup", -1 ) and then in the results open up hl2_usermessages.cpp and and register our messages at the bottom:

usermessages->Register( "Powerup", -1 )

After a compile/run I could see that the message was sent but my message to say it wasn't received didn't show up. I worked out this is because I was using DevMsg on the client which doesn't work, you have to use Msg(). After changing it over I could see it was sent and received.

Now we have to update our CHudRacer::Paint() to show the icon for only the power up we actually have:

void CHudAirboatRacer::Paint() { SetPaintBorderEnabled(false); if (m_iPowerupType) { if (m_iPowerupType == 1) { surface()->DrawSetTexture(m_nPowerup1); } else if (m_iPowerupType == 2) { surface()->DrawSetTexture(m_nPowerup2); } surface()->DrawTexturedRect(0, 0, 64, 64); } }

After a compile/run and driving over the power up only that icon shows. Now to do some work on the powerup class itself CAR_Powerup. First we need to include in_buttons.h because we're going to be checking buttons the player has pressed:

#include "in_buttons.h"

The we need to declare two new methods ExecutePowerup and ExecuteThink. ExecutePowerup will check to see if the player has pressed attack and ExecutePowerup will actually perform the powerup. We also store the player CBaseEntity pointer when they pickup the power up so we don't have to retrieve that:

class CAR_Powerup : public CBaseAnimating { public: DECLARE_CLASS(CAR_Powerup, CBaseAnimating); DECLARE_DATADESC(); void Precache(void); void Spawn(void); void PowerupThink(void); void ExecutePowerup(int iPlayerIndex, CBasePlayer *pBasePlayer); void ExecuteThink(void); virtual void StartTouch(CBaseEntity *pOther); private: int m_iPlayerPowerup[MAX_PLAYERS]; CBaseEntity *m_pPlayer[MAX_PLAYERS]; };

In CAR_Powerup::Spawn() we add a new think event for our power execute to check on each frame:

SetThink(&CAR_Powerup::ExecuteThink); SetNextThink(gpGlobals->curtime);

The set-up the reset code:

void CAR_Powerup::ExecuteThink() { // Loop around each player for (int i = 0; i m_nButtons & IN_ATTACK) { ExecutePowerup(i, pBasePlayer); } } } SetNextThink(gpGlobals->curtime); } void CAR_Powerup::ExecutePowerup(int iPlayerIndex, CBasePlayer *pBasePlayer) { DevMsg("PLAYER %d EXECUTED POWERUP %d\n", iPlayerIndex, m_iPlayerPowerup[iPlayerIndex]); // Retrieve the vehicle the player is in CBaseEntity *pVehicle = pBasePlayer->GetVehicleEntity(); if (pVehicle) { QAngle angPushDir = pVehicle->GetAbsAngles(); // Jump Powerup if (m_iPlayerPowerup[iPlayerIndex] == 1) { angPushDir.y += 90; angPushDir.x -= 15; } // Nitro Powerup else if (m_iPlayerPowerup[iPlayerIndex] == 2) { angPushDir.y += 90; } // Calculate vectors to push to Vector vecAbsDir; AngleVectors(angPushDir, &vecAbsDir); // Push vehicle towards that vector float m_flPushSpeed = 1000; pVehicle->ApplyAbsVelocityImpulse(m_flPushSpeed * vecAbsDir); } // Send message to HUD setting the powerup to -1 // Set message recipient CSingleUserRecipientFilter filter((CBasePlayer *)m_pPlayer[iPlayerIndex]); filter.MakeReliable(); // Create message UserMessageBegin(filter, "Powerup"); WRITE_BYTE(0); // Send message MessageEnd(); //send message // Finished executing the power up now remove the powerup and player from the store m_iPlayerPowerup[iPlayerIndex] = NULL; m_pPlayer[iPlayerIndex] = NULL; }

The explanation for these two methods are detailed in the comments and simply builds on all the things that we've learn't so far.

Git Commit

0 notes

itsworn · 8 years ago

Text

A carried-away clone of the one that got away

Oftentimes our old truck projects commence for sentimental reasons, which far outweigh just wanting that particular type of truck. We’ve all heard the story of the one that got away. Sometimes it’s retrievable. When it’s not, cloning is the option, as it was for Riverside, California’s Ronnie Bauman. Yes, this time we’re talkin’ about my own dear ol’ dad. For Dad, whose standards have risen through the years, accurate cloning of the Bauman’s Auto Wrecking delivery truck would mean holding back. Now, given the quality and availability of reproduction parts for the GM brands today, holding back ain’t easy.

The original C10 shorty that inspired this carried-away clone was in fact rebuilt in the mid ’60s from late-model salvage. Although it was only one in a long string of fleet vehicles, it was special enough to receive extra gingerbread—things like twice-pipes, chromed-reversed wheels, and ARA underdash AC with a genuine Muntz Stereo-Pak alongside.

In the beginning that rebuilt C10 was Dad’s personal pickup. In later years it was passed around by delivery drivers, but that old truck was always well cared for as it served the family business. Then, in the middle of the ’70s, it was crashed a second time. I can still recall looking over the wreckage. The left front fender was relocated deep into the cab. Miraculously, the driver survived with a single lump on his head. He quickly mended and carried on, but alas, the truck did not.

At the end of its road, in true multi-function fashion, the old truck’s twisted remains served the family business in a new and different way—on stands in the wrecking yard. From there as a donor, Dad’s dearly departed pickup was dearly departed out, but it was never forgotten. Though other delivery trucks came, went, and earned their keep as well, Dad maintained a sentimental soft spot for his old C10—the one that got away.

So, what about the clone? Well, the project began with a decent enough 1964 C10 shorty. It really wasn’t bad, but even so, it was disassembled down to bare bones for a frame-up rebuild. Sure, Dad got some help from friends at local Riverside, California, shops, but the majority of the work was done in-house, right where the old wrecking yard used to be.

Quite appropriately, this pickup is powered by a good, used engine—a 350ci Chevrolet—sort of similar to the ones we used to sell. Beautified with brightwork bits from the Pomona swap meet and backed by a rebuilt 700-R4 from Budget Transmissions, “the little engine that could” still can.

This truck’s rear suspension is comprised of straightforward stock stuff with a six-lug-upgraded GM intermediate 10-bolt rearend, all freshened up in-house by Mike Alonso. Suspension up front is mostly stock with cut coils. The original ’60s-era delivery truck didn’t have that feature, or power steering, or power brakes for that matter. With a little help from Dave’s Wheel Alignment, those upgrades harmonize nicely and the clone is a pleasure to drive—especially with the tunes turned off. Joe’s Muffler Service bent up a set of Turbo-muffled custom twice-pipes, which pass the gas in soothing eight-part harmony of their own.

The underside floor and undercarriage are freshened up in OEM-style semigloss black. For the shiny side, Ghostly Gray Metallic is subtle enough that fit ’n’ finish speaks for itself. The bodywork and paint chores were farmed out to builder Alonso’s buddy, John, who is best known as a prolific painter of custom motorcycles. With the benefit of modern materials, the clone’s finish boasts depth and gloss—far beyond that of the original truck.

Once pounding, painting, and polishing were completed, assembly was handled in-house, again by Alonso. Alonso’s bag o’ tricks is a deep one, and he does some bitchin’ stitchin’ as well. Interior trim is his specialty. For Dad’s little truck, Alonso used a matching shade of gray vinyl, and although the original had a black rubber floormat, the dolled-up clone sports matching gray carpet. With Vintage Air components cleverly concealed, this truck’s dash is kept clean and simple with stock instrumentation.

It’s been said that it’s better to sit nice than ride nice. However, this little pickup does both well with stance-enhancing six-lug “Rallye” wheels from The Wheelsmith and the proper balance of Cooper Radial G/T rubber from another Riverside resource—Kuma Tire & Wheel.

The original ’60s-era Bauman’s Auto Wrecking delivery truck was a hard-working, long-hauling fleet vehicle that had to earn its keep. The clone gets to sleep indoors when it’s not propelling dear ol’ Dad to and from Tuxie’s (Riverside’s last-standing ’50s drive-in restaurant) monthly cruise nights, swap meets, and so on. Now let’s think. Where can we go to photograph a carried-away clone of an old wrecking yard’s old delivery truck? How about right here at its home?

Facts & Figures

CHASSIS Frame: Stock Rearend / Ratio: GM intermediate 10-bolt with six-lug upgrade Rear Suspension: Stock Rear Brakes: Drum-type Front Suspension: Stock with cut coils Front Brakes: Stock drum-type Steering Box: PS by CPP Front Wheels: The Wheelsmith six-lug “Rallye” 15×7 Rear Wheels: The Wheelsmith six-lug “Rallye” 15×8 Front Tires: Cooper Radial G/T P245/60R15 Rear Tires: Cooper Radial G/T P275/60R15 Gas Tank: Stock

DRIVETRAIN Engine: 350ci SBC Heads: Stock for engine Valve Covers: Aftermarket aluminum swap meet scores Manifold / Induction: Edelbrock with Edelbrock 600 Ignition: Mallory Headers: By Doug Exhaust / Mufflers: Turbo-muffled twice-pipes by Joe’s Muffler Service Transmission: 700-R4 by Budget Transmissions Shifter: Stock column-type

BODY Style: Shortbed Fleetside Modifications: Little things like frenched aerial, marine-type TG latches, and so on Fenders Front / Rear: Stock Hood: Stock Grille: Reproduction swap meet score Bodywork and Paint by: Mike Alonso’s buddy, John Paint Type / Color: Acrylic urethane BC/CC, Ghostly Gray Metallic Headlights / Taillights: Stock-type reproductions Outside mirrors: Stock-type reproductions Bumpers: Stock-type reproductions

INTERIOR Dashboard: Stock Gauges: Stock Air Conditioning: Vintage Air Stereo: JVC CD tuner, not Muntz Steering Wheel: Camaro Steering Column: Stock Seats: Stock bench Upholstery by: Mike Alonso Material / Color: Gray vinyl Carpet: Matching gray

The post A carried-away clone of the one that got away appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

from Hot Rod Network http://www.hotrod.com/articles/carried-away-clone-one-got-away/ via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Hot Rod Network

0 notes