#Truck Driver Birthday Present

[nadal-designer]

[jellyfishbug]

POP THE HOOD F'ME

pairing. chris x reader genre. smut with plot. MDNI. word count [5.2k]

content; mechanic!chris, flirty!chris, smoking (they share a cig), sex with a stranger ig? semi public, car head (m recieving), face fucking, big dick chris, reader has an eyebrow piercing, use of pet names, dirty talk, swearing

Maybe it was just dumb luck.

My dad has been promising me that his old ford pickup was gonna be mine when I got my license since I was ten. However, not long after my sixteenth birthday, he randomly decided that his promise had conditions.

I had to fix it myself.

I had been putting off working on it for years. I just didn't have the time, and it needed a lot of work. The list of things to be fixed was long, and I knew if I started then, I wouldn't have finished.

Finally, the time presented itself for me to start. I finally had a summer that wasn't so busy, so I decided in May of this year I was finally going to do it.

I was finally going to get my own truck.

So I did; I worked on it for two long months. Two long months spent in the garage on my back under the heavy pickup with my hands covered in soot and oil whilst sweat dripped down my face. Two long months spent fixing the paint job and fiddling around under the hood, my hair tied back to keep it off my neck while the sun beamed through the opened garage door.

I finally felt confident enough to take it out for a test drive today. It was starting fine in the garage, and I'd driven it around the block a number of times without fail.

I excitedly hopped in the driver's seat and shut the heavy door, jamming my keys into the ignition and grinning at the sound of the roar when the engine started. I made it pretty much across town without a single problem, and I thought I was in the clear.

So, maybe it was just dumb luck when not even an hour later, here I am, standing on the side of the road next to said pickup with the hood popped and smoke coming out of the cabin.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was dumb luck when I realized I was only three blocks away from an auto shop, and a guy pulled over to help drag my car there.

It felt like forever when we finally reached the parking lot. The red and white sign that hung over the opened garage doors read 'sturniolo's auto-repair".

For the most part, the slots were empty, except for a 58' baby blue Impala that was suspended off the ground, and a brand new silver Subaru outback that sat right next to it.

As we finally pushed it into the open slot on the far end of the garage, I let out a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat off my forehead with one hand and letting them both rest at my sides.

I thanked the stranger for his assistance and he wished me luck, mumbling about how much a repair on a truck like this was going to cost before wandering off. I scowled at him as soon as he turned away from me.

Walking away from the smokey and damaged shell of a car, I pushed open the clear glass door into the entry-way of the shop, and the sound of the ringing bells that were carefully tied at the top of the door filled my ears.

Near the desk stood two boys, both were brunettes that roughly stood at the same height. The first was wearing a red toyota nascar cap backwards over his brown hair, as well as a black tank top and a navy blue mechanic's suit that hugged his frame. The name patch on the chest of it read "Matt". He was speaking to another customer, flailing the rag around as he emphasized his points with his hands.

The other was standing behind the counter, a gray bandana tied around his head. He wore a navy blue button up that he left completely open with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, making the white tank top he wore under it visible.

The name patch on his chest read "Chris", and a white rag was thrown over his shoulder. A plethora of keys were hooked to a red carabiner that hung around the belt loop of his jeans. The desk hid his lower half below his waistline, and as I stepped closer, I saw a toothpick in between his teeth and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he jotted down words on a yellow notepad with a pencil.

I slowly walked up to the desk, my arms at my sides. He didn't raise his head to look at me, he just continued writing, so I cleared my throat.

His head shot up, and his expression fell into embarrassment.

"Fuck- sorry, I didn't hear you come in. How long ‘v you been standing there?"

I laughed lightly and shook my head. "Not long, I just walked in."

A smile painted itself onto his face as he set the pencil down and put his hands in his pockets just far enough that his thumbs still stuck out. "What can i do for ya?" He asked kindly, the toothpick in his mouth moving as he spoke.

"My truck broke down three blocks ago and wouldn't start. I tried looking under the hood to see the problem, but it was smoking, so I pushed it here." I explained, my hands finding each other and clasping together at my front.

He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly. "Jesus, you wheeled it all the way here?" He asked, laughing breathily when I nodded my head in response. "Atta girl. What kind of truck is it?"

"A ford pickup," I responded all too quickly, my voice strained as I tried to ignore how my heart swelled in my chest from the impressed look on his face. He nodded as he opened the drawer next to him and pulled out a ballpoint pen, picking up the notepad once again to start writing. "What year and license plate?"

"85', boston plate, the number is 289 BTO. " I watched as he wrote mindlessly, the handwriting barely coherent.

"'M kay, I'll take a look at it for you." he said, setting the notepad and pen back down on the counter. He opened his palm, gesturing for my keys, and I dropped them into his grasp. He hooked the ring that held them together around his index finger.

"Wait here, should only be a couple minutes."

I nodded as he circled around to the end of the desk, walking past me and pushing open the door to the garage.

His absence gave me a chance to examine the decor of the office space. Family and baby portraits crowded on top of the counter below the window behind the desk. A mickey mouse clock sat above the side door, and a large OPEN sign hung in the window.

The wall was crowded with plates and signs. One that caught my eye was an eagle with its claws digging into a hanging mirror, the name HARLEY DAVIDSON displayed in bright orange letters above the eagle's head. Next to the register was a small bell with a sign that said "ring for service" and the words 'don't actually' were scribbled in sharpie above.

Just when I was getting lost in thought, I heard the door bells jingle a second time, and Chris walked back in. The rag was now hanging loosely in his palm as he approached the counter. He stood right next to me, reaching over for the notepad and throwing the rag back over his now bare shoulder, which is when I realized he had discarded his button up. My eyes dart down to see the keys to my truck now hanging on a different belt loop on his jeans.

"From what I can see," he starts, popping the cap of the pen off and leaving it in between his teeth as he spoke. "It looks like a coolant leak. The combination from the antifreeze leaking and the heat of the engine is enough to make it smoke, but it's not enough to cause the engine freeze up." he explains, his eyes meeting mine every couple of words to make sure i understand. "So, it could also be a fuel pump problem combined with the leak."

I nodded, chewing my lip nervously as he went on to explain the time the repair would take as well as the cost. When the words, "not finished until at least tomorrow" left his lips, I huffed in defeat, and tried to make my disappointment less evident as i crossed my arms in front of my chest.

"How long have you had it?" He asked, now leaning against the counter next to us with one elbow, crossing one foot over the other.

"I've only started to work on it this summer, but it's been my dads since before i was born."

He nodded. "It's a pretty ride," he confessed. "I honestly expected it to look worse when you said 85', but the conditions not bad. You been workin' on it a lot?"

"As much as I can." I shrugged.

He complimented the paint job, to which i confessed i'd done it, and he gushed. "Christ, you should work here. Matt can't paint to save his life. You could probably get him out of a job,"

Matt sent a glare his way. "Shut up, kid. Dad would fire you over me any day, especially if you keep sleeping in."

Chris laughed, a genuine sound that made Matt's glare turn into a small smile before he went back to rifling through the file cabinet.

He turned back to me, pausing to look back over the notes he'd written down. "If i had to guess, I'd say we can probably have it to you by tomorrow evening." he said, looking away from the paper and averting his gaze to instead look me right in the eye. "That work for you?"

I nodded slowly. Suddenly, the issue of a ride home became extremely apparent, and an anxious feeling started to blossom in my chest.

"Good. Just one more thing. . ." he pauses to take the pen cap out of his mouth and place it back on the pen, tapping it against the curve of his hand and grinning wildly at me.

"i'm gonna need your number to let you know when its finished."

He's just asking because he's supposed to; because he literally has to in order for me to get my car back. But regardless, i felt heat rise to my cheeks as i started shifting uncomfortably in place.

"Right," I said, moving to reach for the pen. He points to a blank part of the notepad, tapping lightly to tell me where to write it.

Quickly and shakily, i write out the numbers with dashes. I hand it back to him, and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He rips the sheet off the notepad in one swift motion and folds it in half, placing it in his back pocket.

He glances towards the clock. Its nearing seven. He turns back to me, "d'you have a ride home?"

My eyes went wide. I'm reminded of my attempt to call my dad three times when the truck initially broke down, and how my shoulders slumped in defeat at the sound of his voicemail playing repeatedly.

I glance back over to him, ". . . Not exactly. I'll probably just catch the bu-"

"I can drive you,"

I swallowed, my lips slightly parted in surprise. His grin was still wide, awaiting my response.

It was a sweet offer, really. But considering my house was across town, partnered with the fact that he was literally on the job, i shook my head. "That's really sweet, thank you, but I'm far. And you're working, anyway." He shrugs, glancing at the clock once more. "It's fine, Matt's on desk duty and he's closing tonight. I don't mind."

I chew my lip. I'd be stupid to pass up on a ride, but i barely know this kid, and if my dad sees me rolling up with him and no truck, it wouldn't look great.

And then I think about the hour long bus ride that would be in the near future if I declined.

I screw my eyes shut. "You know what? Why not."

Despite the scenario i was in, my mind was pushing out any and all nerves as I watched Chris collect his things from behind the desk. He pulled his wallet, shop keys and jacket out of a cubby.

The two of us walked back into the garage and over to Matt, who was washing his hands in a sink bellow the tool shelves.

Chris bid goodbye to his brother, who looked at the clock and then frowned, turning the faucet off and reaching for the roll of papers towels.

"You're seriously slacking off? I already covered for you and Nate leaving early last weekend." He complained, discarding the wad of paper towels he'd used to dry his hands into the trash bin below.

Chris shot him a look. "And then i covered your sunday morning shift because you were hungover. You owe me."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just put your tools away when you open tomorrow. It drives me fucking insane when you leave them everywhere."

Chris salutes. "Roger that." He turned to me and winked, gesturing to follow him through the garage with a tilt of his head.

I followed behind him as he went out a different exit; this one leading to a parking lot on the back of the building. A large EMPLOYEE PARKING sign hung on the fence near the driveway.

He fiddled with the many keys on his carabiner before finally finding his and walking towards a car near the opening in the gate.

A blue, four-seater, convertible 65' mustang. The light from the setting sun literally reflected off of it. He mindlessly stuck the key into the passenger side door, twisting and pulling it open with a faint click.

He gestured his hand towards the seat playfully, "Ladies first."

I rolled my eyes, placing one foot on the floor of the car and ducking my head to sit down. "How gentlemanly of you,"

He grinned at me, closing the door and walking around the back of the car before popping into the driver's seat.

"This is.. wow." I mutter, admiring the small details and cleanliness of the car as he closed his door and threw his belongings in the back. "Jesus, this is yours?"

He smiled proudly, his tongue darting out to dampen his bottom lip. "All mine,"

His fingers twisted the key into the ignition and the roar of the engine made the car buzz against my feet. He rolled both of our windows down, the summer air blowing smoothly through the car.

His smile was wider and prouder than ever as he glanced into the rear view mirror, throwing an arm over the back of my seat to glance behind him as he reversed. We pulled out of the parking lot and turned left onto the main road, Chris letting the steering wheel slide back into place under his palm by itself once he'd done so.

"You said you were far," he mumbled. "What area are you in?"

The question pulled me back into reality. I'd gotten so distracted by the way he drove so carelessly, like he was completely relaxed and in control of everything movement the car made, like fear didn't even exist to him as he pressed harder onto the gas pedal with his foot, my eyes choosing to ignore the way the tic on the speed meter start to spike.

His jawline was illuminated in the dim light, and the toothpick that was still resting on his lips stayed moving as he spoke gently, waiting patiently for me to answer.

I started giving him directions, and he listened carefully and intently, glancing over to look at me to make sure he understood my instructions. Once we were on the freeway, he went even faster, lane switching if someone in front of him wasn't going as fast as he'd like them to.

Soft giggles left me as he did, basking in the view of his lips parted into a smile, showcasing pearly teeth between pink lips.

Once he pulled onto the off ramp and we were stopped at a red light, he turned to look at me again, the bright red turning the car a faint shade of crimson.

"What time do you need to be back?"

He asked with a tone of voice he hadn't used till now. The sudden lowness caught me off guard as I shrugged, "'Dunno, not for a while."

He hummed in acknowledgement. "You wanna stay on the road for a bit?"

I pull my knees up to my chest and let my head fall against the headrest, a careless smile on my face. "Definitely."

And we did; we ended up back on the highway pretty quickly, blasting music through a speaker Chris had propped against the dashboard.

His speed only got higher and higher as time went on, carelessly resting one hand on the wheel whilst the other gripped the gear shift. At some point, his hand had mindlessly traveled to rest on my upper bare thigh below the hem of my shorts, cold and partially ringed fingers pressing against my skin.

"Will you do me a favor?"

I raised my eyebrows and hummed in response. He gestured towards the glove box. "Theres a pack of camel blue 99s in the glove box, would you grab em for me?"

I bit my lip. "Depends, you sharing?"

"Duh."

I leaned forward, feeling my stomach flip when his hand didn't much as move an inch on my thigh, brushing against my lower stomach as I lurched forward to fiddle with the glovebox.

I propped it open and grabbed the pack and paused, "d'you have a light?"

He nodded. "Should be one in there."

I learned more forward and reached farther back, glancing around before locking my eyes on a silver flip top lighter and grabbing it. Once i lean back up, Chris is pulling into an empty lot. His hand leaves my leg to push the gear into park, and i try not to frown.

I flick the top of the cig carton open and hastily pull one out, dropping it into Chris's palm.

He places it hazardly between his lips and turns to face me, silently asking for me to light it.

I pop the lid of the zippo open and hold the flam to the end of his cig, waiting to pull away until his expression signifies that its lit enough. His expression relaxes as he breathes in before pulling it away from his mouth with two fingers and exhaling, the smoke filling the car.

"If I'm honest, I prefer marlboro reds." I say quietly in an attempt to break the silence, watching Chris flick the ash out the window lazily with his thumb and index finger. He shakes his head. "Camels are undeniably better."

I laugh lightly and raise my eyebrows in amusement. "No accounting for taste, I suppose."

He takes another drag before holding it in between his fingers in front of my face, and Instead of reaching for it, I place my lips around the filter while it's still in his hand. Our eyes lock while I breath in sharper, the cool feel of the smoke filling my chest.

He licks his lips, and for a moment, his eyes dart down to look at mine, and he's starts he's studying my face. I'm doing the same.

His eyes are bright blue, surrounded by thick lashes, which are barely visible with stray pieces of his hair hanging down below the bandana on his head. Freckles lightly paint his noise, and his pink lips are slightly parted as his eyes scan my face.

"I like your piercing," he finally says, pressing his one hand to his eyebrow as if he had one himself. I breathe out the smoke i'd been holding in my lungs and smile at him. He's still looking at it as he speaks again, "Did it hurt?"

I shrug. "Not really," Because it didn't, but also because I'd feel like an idiot saying it did. "Just a pinch."

He nodded slowly. "Hm."

I take another hit from the cig which he's still holding up to my lips. Our faces are closer now. One of my elbows is resting on the center console as I look at him through my lashes.

"You should get one." I say.

He laughs, breathy and genuine. "Yeah? You think so?"

"Mhm," i reach my hand up to graze above his eye with two fingers. "It would look good on you." He watches my movements. "We'd match, too."

He digs his teeth into his bottom lip, finally moving the cig back to his own lips and taking one more long drag before carelessly discarding it out the window.

All too quick, he's facing me again, and he leans even closer. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face. My heart is thumping loudly in my chest, and a part of me thinks he can hear it.

Before I can even blink, he places his fingers on my chin and tilts his head, smashing his lips against mine hard.

Its all teeth at first, clashing messily as his hand leaves my chin and rests as the base of my neck. My hands are on his face, my fingers messing with the curls at the back of his neck while he grins against my lips.

He lightly bites my bottom lip, taking the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth. He tastes like cherry and camels, and I feel myself whimpering at the contact.

"Fuck," he mumbles into my mouth, and his tone is exasperated, partly because the console between us is making it harder for him to kiss me like he wants to, and partly because his attempts to pull me close enough for our chests to press together have been unsuccessful.

His hands reach down to tug at the belt loops of my shorts, trying to pull me onto his lap. I pull away for a second to push myself over the console, Chris's grip on my hips staying firm to assist me. I duck to avoid hitting my head on the roof of the car, and Chris giggles lowly.

I finally relax once I'm comfortable in his lap, straddling his legs below me. One of his hands is across my lower half, sliding his hand into my back pocket, and the other rests in the middle of my back, holding me in place.

We're kissing again, and this time it's more lips and tongue then teeth, but he's still lightly tugging at my lip.

I'm tugging at his hair as I push myself closer to his lower abdomen, pressing down, which elicits a groan from him. He pulls away from me, and I try to follow his lips with a whine, but he tugs at the back of my hair lightly so he can press kisses from my jaw down to my neck.

I'm already whimpering as soon as his teeth press against my throat, and he digs them deep, kissing the mark once he's satisfied with the shade of purple its turned before finding a different spot to do the same thing.

"Chris, fuck- please."

I can feel him below me, and it's making me crazy. He doesn't budge, even as I continue to whine breathlessly at him.

He only grins as he continues to nip at my skin, and i felt the smirk on his face against my throat. I tangle my fingers in his hair and tug as a silent plea. "What s' it, baby?"

Baby.

I practically keen at the nickname. He finally pulls away, a string of saliva connecting his lips to his previous spot on my neck. He grins proudly at the marks he's left before looking at me again.

"What d'you want?" his tone is cocky and assertive. His lips look red and bitten, and I start to feel embarrassed at the fact that we were sucking face so lewdly in a literal parking lot.

I want to squirm and writhe away under his gaze, but his knuckle tight grip on me won't let me. I fiddle with the neck of his shirt and avoid looking at him as i whisper, "I need you."

He grins madly. "How d'you need me, sweetheart?"

I lean forward and press my lips back against his, and he entertains for a little before tugging my hair lightly to pull me back. His fingers grip my chin, holding me in place to look at him.

"Tell me what you want."

I brush my hand against his belt buckle. "I wanna suck you off,"

It came out in a mumble, but he understood, nodding somewhat cockily with a shit-eating grin on his lips. A groan left him as he tugged me even closer so our chests were pressed together. "Yeah?"

I nod eagerly, another 'please' ready to escape my mouth as my impatience grows. He ducks his hand between the seat and the door to push it farther back, "On your knees, then."

I obliged immediately, sliding off his lap to rest on my knees below him. My elbows rest on either side of his legs as my hands flew to his belt, unbuckling it and tugging at his jeans and boxers.

He lifted his hips lightly to assist me. I pulled them down until they rested around his ankles, and I feel myself gawk.

He's big. Bigger then I expected.

A nervous feeling bubbles in the pit of my stomach, but the way he's looking down at me through hazy vision makes it vanish even quicker, and I wrap my hands around his length.

"You okay?" He asks, moving his hand to rest on my cheek, his thumb soothingly pressed on my temple.

"No- yeah, i'm good." I breathe. I hover myself over him, finally taking him into my mouth. A string of curses leave him in a hushed breath, and his head moves to rest at the back of my head to coax me farther down.

I pull back slightly, wrapping my lips around his tip and sucking lightly. His chest is rising and falling quickly above me, and his labored breathing is music to my ears.

His cock is heavy on my tongue, and its addicting. I take him farther down my throat, hollowing my cheeks to fit as much of him as i can while my hand is in a fist around his base. I bob my head and twist my hand, looking up at him to see his flushed face as he pants.

"Fuck, you look so pretty like this." He babbles, a throaty moan leaving him when I twist my hand faster, swirling my tongue along his cock as my head rises and falls.

I hum around his dick at the compliment, the slight sting on my scalp from him pulling my hair only pushing me to do more. He pushes me down slightly, and i choke at the burn of his tip making contact with my uvula.

I moan loudly on him at the feeling, tears building in my eyes as the vibration from the noises i'm making cause him to throw his head back, a blissed out expression on his face. "Fuck, so good. Just like that, god."

Drool seeps from the corners of my mouth as I speed up all my movements. Chris is a breathy, moaning mess above me, watching me through lidded eyes as I glance up at him.

He moves his other hand to rest on the side of my face, grinning at my fucked out appearance. "Fucking filthy girl, aren't you, baby." He says through gritted teeth. "You love this, don't you?"

I whine at him, furrowing my eyebrows in pleasure to say "yes', and watching as his eyes roll lightly back in his head when i start to suck lightly at his tip again.

My hand falls from his base to lay on his leg, the other holding the bottom of his shirt in my fist. I try to push my head farther down, whimpering faintly at the stretch.

Chris's hips jerk up lightly at the sensation, causing him to push himself down my throat until my lips hit the base. I start to choke, but I breathe heavily through my nose, screwing my eyes shut and hallowing my cheeks out to stop myself from pulling off.

"Fuck!" he grunts loudly, his grip on my hair turning animalistic. He mindlessly mutters out curses and praise as he pushes my head up and down with his hands, 'good girl', 'don't stop', 'takin' me so good, baby' 'just like that' . . .

My hands are resting completely at his sides as he guides my mouth on his cock, slightly bucking his hips to push himself as far as I can take him. His strokes turn sloppy, and I look up at him again to see him looking at me with a broken glance, bottom lip between his teeth. "Fuck, gonna cum," he gasps.

I begin to swirl my tongue around him, moaning messily on him as if to say, 'in my mouth, please', but he's already reading my mind, digging his nails into my scalp as he spurts coats of white down my throat, an incoherent string of "fuck fuck fuck"'s spilling out of him. Im swallowing as quickly as i can.

I pull off of him with a lewd pop, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I know i look completely ruined, but I'm still focused on catching my breath and looking at Chris's flushed pink face above me.

His hand rests on my face again, and his thumb soothingly rubs my cheek. "You okay? Was that too much?" he asks, his expression full of concern as he wipes the tears from under my eyes.

I smile, leaning into his touch. "I'm good, it was really good."

He nods, smiling dumbly. "Good."

He pulls his jeans and boxers back up, bucking his belt before pulling me off my knees and back onto his lap. He presses a soft, passionate kiss on my lips, and then trails kisses down the side of my face, pulling my hair back off my shoulders as we both catch our breath.

We're both startled by the loud ringing of my phone in the passenger seat. I reach over the console, sighing in relief when i flip it over and see my dad's name at the top of my screen.

I put the phone up to my ear, watching as Chris rubs circles into my side with his cold fingers.

"Hi," I breath out. I listen as my dad apologizes for not answering earlier. He tells me he heard my voicemail and asks if I'm okay. "M' fine, I just wheeled it to a shop a couple blocks over. I'm on the bus home now, should only be a bit."

Chris pouts at me, and i roll my eyes at him. My dad talks for a couple for seconds before hanging up, and i leave my phone in the drink compartment next to Chris's forgotten lighter.

"D'you need to get home?" He asked. I nodded, and he frowns. "I was gonna get you off in the backseat,"

part two? :)

thank you for reading! reblogs are DEEPLY appreciated. I hope you enjoyed. links below !

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[cooliestghouliest]

pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

plot summary: It’s Eddie’s birthday! He said no presents but you said fuck that. He’s getting two.

word count: 4k+

cw: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI; this is smut; porn with plot; Eddie being mean to Gareth; handjobs and blowjobs and Gareth unknowingly being a bystander of both; there’s some cum stuff in here, too.

notes: set in early 1990s. reader and Eddie are both in early/mid 20s. let’s pretend the PlayStation had co-op online gaming so this story makes sense. a part two may be in store. let me know what you think. 😈

Working overtime at The Hideout was not something you necessarily wanted to do, but with Eddie’s birthday coming up, it was something you had to do.

As much as you would have liked them to, bills wouldn’t simply pause just because you wanted to save money to buy Eddie a PlayStation. No, you had to use your math-inept brain to start budgeting, getting some help from Steve, who’d just recently been hired to work at a local accounting firm.

While you were hoping Steve would magically find money hidden somewhere in your finances, you were annoyed but not surprised at his only solution:

“You need to pick up more shifts.”

You and Eddie had moved into an apartment just outside of Hawkins after Eddie had finally graduated, you having helped him through that dreaded English class so you could both walk the stage together. That had been three years ago now. Money was tight, sure, but the two of you never went without the essentials. There was always dinner to be had, clothes to be worn, cable to be watched.

Between you bartending and trying to get a degree part-time, and Eddie dealing and working at the auto shop part-time, you both managed to make just enough to stay afloat.

Sometimes Eddie would score a few hundred playing a gig with Corroded Coffin, and he’d use that to wine and dine you like the fancy little lady you were. His words, not yours. You knew Eddie liked to spoil you. You knew he hated he couldn’t do it more.

Many stoned late night conversations had been had between the two of you where he fantasized aloud about taking you country to country once the band made it big, fucking you in soft, plush, expensive hotel beds, and spoon feeding you gelato while watching the sunset on a balcony, your bodies wrapped in silk, name-embroidered robes.

Eddie was a total lush at heart. The most broke rich man you’d ever met. You assumed this was because he came from virtually nothing. You didn’t need everything he wanted to give you, but he made it clear on more than one occasion that once money wasn’t a barrier, he would treat you like a queen.

You felt like he already did.

This is why you sucked up the hatred you had for The Hideout and told Roy, your boss, you’d work whatever shifts he could give you for the next few weeks. You endured handfuls of handsy truck drivers, pretended to flirtatiously banter with beyond drunk bikers, and held back the powerful urge to gag while stroking the egos of middle aged business men who chose to go through their midlife crisis in a seedy, dimly lit bar.

Seeing the look on Eddie’s face when you slid the wrapped package across the small dining table in your kitchen made all of the extra hours of rum pouring and forced salacious smiles worth it.

He had been mid-sentence, talking about a client at the auto shop who he’d spent an hour after hours with, the guy telling him all about medieval torture devices. This didn’t surprise you. Eddie’s fascination with the macabre was one of the things that had drawn the two of you together in the first place.

The first time you’d officially met was in English class your junior year, his third senior year. You’d told him you lived in a funeral home because your dad was a generational mortician, and that one day you’d probably own and operate it once your father retired. You also told him your mom was a self-proclaimed psychic who held seances for family members of the dead following their services. Eddie open-mouth stared at you for at least an entire minute in silence before telling you that was the creepiest fucking thing he’d ever heard, and that he would never feel fulfilled in life until you invited him over so he could experience it all firsthand. 

The rest is history.

“What is this?” Eddie asked, brown eyes wide as he observed the gift in front of him.

“I know we said no presents this year so we can save for the new car, but... you know how I had all those late night study groups I had to go to this semester?”

He nodded, long fingers toying with the black parchment wrapping paper.

“Weeeeeell, actually, I was working overtime at The Hideout,” you admitted, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth. You knew he wasn’t going to be happy to hear you hadn’t been honest this past month, but you figured once he saw what you’d bought him (and what you’d had planned for the rest of the night), maybe he’d decide to let bygones be bygones. Not likely, as Eddie thoroughly enjoyed teaching you lessons as punishment for bad behavior, and you figured lying for weeks on end about attending study groups qualified as pretty bad behavior. You rushed out the next few sentences, smiling innocently and tilting your head to try and appear as cute as you possibly could, “It was so I could buy you that. For your birthday. Happy birthday, Eddie. Love you.”

Eddie’s brows lifted toward his hairline at your admittance, slow blinking a few times as your confession set in.

“We are definitely going to revisit all that at a later point,” Eddie warned, a ringed finger pointing at you. “Because that is so not okay. But -- ” he couldn’t help the excited, boyish grin that enveloped his features. “I really wanna open this and see what it is.”

You giggled in excitement at his eagerness, drumming your fingers on the table. “Okay, come on! Open it!” You would enjoy these few hours of spoiling him as he so frequently spoiled you, and you’d worry about whatever punishment he’d dole out when it came later.

And right now, the look of elation on his face as he unwrapped the PlayStation was worth however many studded belt spankings or denied orgasms you had in your near future.

“Fuck! Baby! No way!” he practically squealed, jumping up from the chair. It fell to the ground behind him with a clatter, but he paid no mind. He held the gaming console above him in awe. “You’re fucking kidding!”

“No, no kidding,” you answered, even though you knew his words were rhetorical. You could feel your cheeks growing sore with the smile stretched across your face, basking in his reaction. “There’s a real PlayStation in there, I swear.”

He laughed and protectively cradled the console under his arm, hurrying to you to slam his lips against yours in a kiss. No tongue, but plenty of fervor. “God, I fucking love you,” he muttered, placing small kisses on your nose and cheeks. “I mean, I’d fucking love you even if you got me nothing, or just, like, socks or something, but, shit, baby, this is -- I have to call Gareth! We can play King’s Field together now!”

A laugh bubbled out of your lips at his sudden change in direction, knowing Eddie was always at the whim of his impulses. You watched as he ran off to the living room to make the call. You knew Gareth would be waiting for it, as you’d told him to make sure he didn’t have plans on Eddie’s birthday, so the two of them could spend it playing the multiplayer game together late into the night.

It was all part of your grander birthday plan.

You waited until you heard Eddie’s voice rambling off to Gareth in the living room, the sounds of him unboxing the console to start to hook it up mingled into his conversation, before you disappeared into your bedroom to change.

Phase one, complete, success. Phase two, final phase, commence.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

It was about twenty minutes later when you reemerged from the bedroom, wearing nothing but a newly bought matching blood red bra and panty set. It was solid colored with black lace outlining the rim of both pieces, flattering against your skin tone.

Eddie was sitting on the edge of the La-Z-Boy, headset mussing down his wild curls, talking animatedly to Gareth about the skeletons they were currently fighting on the screen.

“No, no! Go left, go left! God damnit, Gareth, do you know what your left is?!”

Eddie was loud and mouthy enough as it is, but add in a game where he had the ability to lose and the whole apartment complex would be banging on their door come tomorrow morning with noise complaints. Hell hath no fury like a twenty-something man’s confidence in his pretend battling skills.

While some might find it annoying, you found Eddie’s unbridled passion for everything he was interested in endearing. He was someone who let himself be totally engulfed by the plot of a movie or a game or a story, attaching himself to the characters and their the ups and downs as if they were tangible and could be found in his own everyday life.

You were happy for his distraction as it gave you time to compose yourself and slowly stalk your way to the center of the living room, where the chair sat directly across from the TV.

By the time you made your way to the side of the La-Z-Boy, finally coming into Eddie’s peripheral vision, he was still berating Gareth for his poor sense of direction.

“I mean, what the hell, Gare, we learned our lefts and rights in, like -- oh, fuck.”

You’d brought you hand out to trail down the exposed skin of Eddie’s arm, watching it goosebump in your wake. He’d taken his shirt off at some point, much to your appreciation. Eddie’s attention was fully on you now, as was evident from his failed completed sentence to Gareth, who you could now hear through Eddie’s headset going, “Oh, fuck? What? What, oh fuck? You don’t even know how to talk, Munson.”

But Gareth went unheard by Eddie, who’s eyes were drinking in the sight of you in your lingerie set. His tongue darted out to lick at his lower lip, which he then pulled into his mouth to sink his top teeth into.

You offered him a playful smile, watching as his neck began to turn red, the color almost a perfect match for the satin set you had on.

Without a word, you dropped to your knees on the carpet in front of him, sitting between his legs.

“What -- what are you doing?” he managed to choke out.

Gareth’s voice through the headset: “What? Dude, I’m fucking going left like you told me to!”

“Shut up, Gareth,” Eddie warned, his brown eyes now full of fire for the sight before him.

He brought one hand to cover the mouthpiece of his headset, the other placing the controller on his lap to reach out and cradle your face. You leaned into it.

“What are you doing, baby?” Eddie asked again, but he knew. Especially from the wicked grin you were giving him now.

“Just play your game, Eddie,” you whispered, careful to be quiet so Gareth didn’t hear. You moved your head to rest your cheek on his thigh, staring up at him with big doe eyes as you brought the fingers of one hand to lightly trace the line of his zipper. “And don’t get caught. We don’t want Gareth to know what a bad girl I’m being, playing with your cock while you play with him.”

His breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t believe it.

Not only had you gotten him exactly what he’d been wanting since it came out that prior winter, but now you were going to suck him off while he played it?

Jesus, how did he get so lucky?

“You are a fucking minx,” Eddie said, voice stern but his face lighting up in satisfaction as he readjusted himself on the chair, spreading his legs a bit wider.

He dropped the hand from the headset and picked the controller back up again just as Gareth was saying, “Eddie, man, are you still there? Your character’s been standing in the same place for, like, five minutes.”

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Sucking dick was not only one of your favorite things to do, but it was one of the things you were best at.

You prided yourself on how quickly you could work Eddie into a panting frenzy, how easy it was for him to lose control in your mouth, thrusting his hips to force you to take what you could and to choke back the rest.

But tonight you were taking it slow. Slow and sloppy. And you weren’t letting him do any of the work.

You’d only pulled his cock from his jeans, leaving his balls in the confines of the tight denim. You’d used so much spit that the fabric of his pants was soaking through to his boxer briefs. You watched his face intently as one of your hands wrapped around the thickness of him, stroking upwards in long, drawn out movements. You could tell he was trying to jerk his hips up but was failing, as your other hand was pressed into his side, trying its hardest to keep his body weight back against the chair.

“Greedy,” you scolded, clicking your tongue to the roof of your mouth.

He smiled sheepishly, eyes meeting yours over his hands which were holding the controller against his chest. He stopped the movement of his hips even though he felt as if it physically pained him to do so.

You’d been working him with your hands and mouth for the better part of half an hour now, releasing him entirely any time he came close to coming. He’d let a whine out at one point, to which Gareth asked, “Dude, you good?” and Eddie had to scramble out in his lust addled brain an excuse as to why that type of noise had erupted from him. He didn’t even remember what he’d said to explain it away.

All Eddie wanted to do was come. He wanted to cover you in him, drench your face and chest as you’d drenched his pants and cock in your warm saliva. He kept picturing it in his head, in alarmingly graphic detail, which was making this video game very, very hard to concentrate on.

Eddie got the idea that maybe if you neared your breaking point too, he’d finally be allowed to come. His cock throbbed at the thought, a bead of precum oozing from his slit. You sucked it away. He groaned and rolled his eyes back, controller wobbling in his hand and threatening to fall to the floor.

Taking a deep breath, he steadied his grip again, pressing a few random assortments of buttons to make Gareth think he was still coherent and definitely not getting a blowjob from his girlfriend right now.

“Will you please play with yourself?” Eddie asked, trying to put forth his best pleading puppy dog eyes. This was his big plan. Get you to get yourself off so he could sneak his orgasm in there, too.

He clearly had forgotten to cover the mouthpiece because Gareth’s voice was incredulous on the other end.

“What the fuck, Munson? What do you mean? I can’t play with myself! We’re almost at the end, man! Don’t give up now!”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips, your head falling back for a moment at the exasperation in Gareth’s voice. Gareth was none the wiser, but just so you felt better, you made a mental note to buy him something nice or bake him those cookies you knew he liked, just for being such an unknowingly good sport during all of this.

Sticking your tongue out a bit, you bit down on the fleshy muscle in your mouth before rising more on your knees, leaning closer to Eddie. With the hand that was previously pushing his hips down, you covered his mouthpiece. “Is this a game you can win?” you asked. Your hand had stopped stroking now, and your fingers were instead running light pressured circles around the head of his weeping cock.

“Wha -- what? Uh, yeah... yeah, I can win,” Eddie stumbled, attention off the game momentarily to watch your hot little mouth move. “Just... fuck up a few more skeletons...”

“Okay,” you said, hand tightening on his member again, this time sliding it down slowly, twisting as you went. He hissed, trying to lean forward to capture your mouth with his own. You backed away, falling back down to your bottom as you continued playing with him in your hand. “Then win and I’ll let you come.”

Eddie huffed, trying to thrust his hips up for more friction but was stopped by your hand reclaiming its spot on his pelvis again, pushing him back down. If he wanted, he could absolutely overpower you. He could grab your wrists and pull you up into his lap, sliding the side of your panties over with one hand before impaling you on his wanting cock. He knows you’d let him. But he likes when you get like this, thinking you’re in control. It makes it all that much better when he finally flips the script and has you teary eyed begging for him to let you come.

“Gareth, I swear to fucking god, if we don’t win this game in the next three minutes, I’m never speaking to you again.”

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

It takes longer than three minutes, and it’s not because of Gareth.

Eddie keeps screwing up, pressing X when he should be pressing O; spamming the start button to bring up the game menu when you take him particularly deep into your throat; accidentally stabbing Gareth’s character with a sword instead of the skeleton because his eyes keep rolling into the back of his head with the words spilling from your filthy mouth.

It’s all, “tastes so good, Eddie,” and “can’t even fit you all in my mouth,” and “I’m dripping on the floor, want you so bad.”

Evil woman.

Evil, perfect woman.

Eddie sees a light at the end of the tunnel. Literally. In the game, the hallway he and Gareth had been running down is opening into the brightness of a lit arena. It’s the final stage. One more fucking skeleton and he can let go. He can turn this headset off and grunt and groan to his heart’s content without having to worry about Gareth thinking he’s a fucking creep.

“I’m almost there...” Eddie’s saying, and he’s kind of talking about winning the game, but is mostly talking about the orgasm he can feel tightening in his balls, swirling in his stomach, clenching in his thighs.

“Yeah, dude! We got this!”

Eddie does not want to hear Gareth’s voice right now. He wants to hear you, pretty and whiny, loving the noises you make when you make him come. He loves how much you love it. You’re not even the one coming, but you’re always right there with him, moaning about how good his warm seed feels inside you or all over you, wherever he decides to finish. You’re not picky.

Just then, Eddie jolts forward in the chair. The head of his hard length hits the back of your throat and you cough a little, sputtering as you move your head. Looking back over your shoulder at the TV screen, hand moving up and down Eddie’s slippery cock, you see the words 'YOU WIN' in radioactive green.

“Fuuuuuuck, yes!” Eddie shouts, throwing the controller in the air. He rips off the headset without saying goodbye to Gareth, dropping it to the ground as he turns his attention back to you.

He looks absolutely wrecked. Black bangs are clung to his forehead with sweat, his chest is heavy with labored breaths, his skin is tinged pink from being so worked up and then worked back down over and over for the past hour. He can’t believe he hasn’t accidentally came yet. He assumes it’s because his mind was preoccupied with the game, because now that his full attention is on you, remembering what you’re wearing, what you’re doing, and how you look so fucking good doing it, he doesn’t think he’s going to last.

“Baby, please, I wanna come,” he’s saying, bringing one hand to the back of your head, tangling it in your hair. He’s not guiding you or helping at all, doesn’t want to be in control yet, he just wants to touch you, needs to have his hands on you somehow. “I won, did you see, I won, I get to come, right? Please make me come...”

You bit back a self-satisfied look at his pleading, bringing both hands now to wrap around the length of him. It doesn’t need it, already soaking from being in your mouth, but you let a string of spit fall onto the head of his cock, making your hands glide even easier over the velvety hardness of him. You can feel him throbbing, his hips finally able to rock up into your touch.

“Are you gonna make me all messy, Eddie?” you ask, tilting your head down to look up at him with wide, faux innocent eyes.

He’s nodding, thrusts finding no rhythm, just trying to reach release. “Yeah, baby, you love it when I cover you in my come, get you all wet and sticky...”

“Uh-huh. Love when you help me clean it up, too.”

And that’s what does it.

Eddie let out a stilted moan, one that changed octaves, and he’s coming harder than he thinks he’s ever come before.

Thick ropes of white hit your cheeks, your chin, your neck, your chest.

You gasped at the contact, then let out a moan that made his toes curl into the carpet, licking your lips to catch anything that landed in tongue distance.

He watches it all. His eyes threaten to close but fuck no, he loves to see you get marked by him in the most primal of ways. Loves to watch his cock paint the prettiest portrait on you.

He brought his hand down to help you stroke him through it, wanting to feel your smaller fingers on his cock as he rode out his high.

Then he gave you what you love, helping you clean it up. He bent his head down and ran his tongue across your hot skin, scooping up as much of his release as he could. He grabbed you by the chin, pulling down until your mouth opened before spitting into your mouth, watching as you let it sit for a moment before closing your mouth and swallowing, your eyes heavy with arousal at his actions.

“Mmmm,” you sound, smiling dopily. You kissed at his lips, your hand still slowly stroking him as he softened.

He licked at your bottom lip before his tongue moved into your mouth and against yours, pulling you into his lap. You melted into his touch, becoming boneless flesh in his arms. He groaned at the feeling of your wet, clothed cunt pressed against his lower stomach. He hadn’t even touched you -- you hadn’t even touched yourself -- and yet you were still so slick for him.

That thought alone was enough to cause his cock to twitch, and he thanked the sex gods or whoever was in charge for gracing him with stamina tonight of all nights.

“Best,” kiss to your nose, “birthday,” kiss to your chin, “ever,” kiss to your lips.

You smiled against his lips, humming happily at his admission. This was exactly how you planned the night going. Surprise Eddie with a PlayStation and an explosive orgasm.

Then he just had to go and throw a curveball.

“I’ll be good to go in twenty minutes,” he conceded, fingers running featherlight down your bare back. “Then we’ll see what we’re gonna do about that lying mouth of yours.”

Damn it. The study groups. He remembered. Part of you hoped you’d sucked all the sense out of him, but apparently not.

“Mean,” you pouted.

Eddie’s eyes flashed wickedly, a lazy grin stretching across his face.

“Oh, I will be.”

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 10

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: very likely typos, fluffy stuff, cursing i think.

Words: 3157

The One I Want Masterlist

The words ‘I’ll be fine’ are still ringing in your ear, drilled into your brain from the excessive number of times they’d been said or texted in the last ten hours. From the moment you stepped out of your bedroom door this morning, Jake began insisting on picking you up from the shop following your shift. He insisted before you even had a chance to suggest an alternative plan for your day. As soon as you opened your mouth, he had his hand up and head shaking to stop you.

“Don’t even say it,” he said, “I’ll be there to get you, same as always,” to which you responded with what might as well be your new catchphrase: “I’ll be fine.”

His attempts to put his foot down on the matter were unsuccessful as you pointed out every reason why finding your own means of transportation after work is the best solution. He rolled his eyes at “It’s your birthday, Jake,” and snorted at “Your party at the bar starts an hour and a half before my shift ends,” but finally surrendered to “If you’re late, your friends will be disappointed. They mean too much to you for that.” Then he sighed and nodded and continued about his morning routine as you did yours before you headed to the shop. Though you thought you’d won, you received multiple “Are you sure?” texts that were also answered with “I’ll be fine.” And you are fine. Your shift was dull, uneventful, and you had no issue securing a quick ride to The Hard Deck. 

Hopping out of the back of the driver’s car is a struggle with the number of bags hanging off your arms. Between your purse, Jake’s present, and the clothes you wore to work shoved into a grocery bag—which were switched with the casual, green knee-length dress you’re wearing—you’re weighed down. 

“Need some help there, Sweetness?” Javy is one of few lingering outside the bar, and the only person you know within sight. He smiles and the arms crossed over his chest bounce with his chuckle. Before you answer, he walks over to snatch both your purse and the grocery bag in his hands. “I’m gonna toss these in Jake’s truck. No one will bother them,” he says.

In his brief absence, you stand a little straighter and brush the stray hairs back behind your ear. A low whistle coming from behind you causes you to flinch until you realize it’s from your friend as he makes his way back over to you.

“You're definitely lookin’ lovely,” he teases, and you snort.

“Quit it.”

“No can-do, sweetness. Too pretty to ignore.”

Heat floods your cheeks and you look down at the ivy-green material flowing around your body. It’s about as simple a dress you could find—well, that Millie could help you find after insisting on leaving behind the jeans—but it’s much more than anything you’ve worn in the past. Social events have never been your cup of tea. Not being invited out has left you slim on practice, and that includes every aspect down to your choice of clothing. While Millie did help you pick it out, it doesn’t necessarily mean she is an expert either, but you have no way of knowing for sure. “Is it too much?”

“Not a chance,” Javy replies. “You look amazing. And you happen to be the very reason I am out here instead of in there.”

“Meaning…”

“As Jake’s top-tier friend, I want to be the one to personally deliver his favorite present. Now that you’re here, I can do that,” he says with a wink before holding out his elbow for you to take. 

—

Jake’s eyes are already on the door when you walk in, finding you instantly, and his entire body perks up like a man just shot with a bolt of life. Shoulders lose the little bit of slump there was from forearms resting on the high-top table and eyebrows drop their pinch as he watches your every step toward him. Through the mass of bodies Javy assists in weaving you through, Jake’s stare is impressive. It’s steady and he doesn’t lose you, not for a second. 

When you reach him, Javy loudly declares “The contest is over! I just won best present.” He then releases you to round the group and pops open a bottle of beer with the edge of the table. By the multiple marks on the wood surface, you imagine—hope, anyway—that Penny doesn’t mind. However, if anyone were to follow her rules and respect the property she requests be respected, it would be this group. 

As you stand there greeting the rest of the crew, you can still feel those green eyes. A few other pairs dart back and forth between you and Jake. Tension bubbles around the back corner of the room where the modest party is set up, but it’s not an aggressive tension from distress or concern of discomfort; it’s a tension buzzing wildly with excitement. And from the smiles on faces and the little redhead you’ve bonded with bouncing on her toes, you can begin to guess where this buzzing, humming, zapping energy is coming from. 

They know. You’re not sure why a flash of surprise moves through you. Of course, they know. Of course, Jake told them. They’re his best friends. They’re the family he made after the devastation of having his own taken from him. His sharing of what’s happened between you over the last week is normal, so normal that it’s unfamiliar. One more thing you’ll have to get used to if Jake continues to pull you out of the existence you’ve known for so long.

“Hi,” he says. It rides on a heavy exhale that you can barely hear through the cacophony of voices filling the bar. 

Jake’s friends appear to go back to their conversations, but they’re no good at disguising their true intentions. Their ears are alert as eyes rely on the strength of their peripheral vision to catch either your or Jake’s next move. A tight squeeze with roaming hands, a deep kiss, an arm wrapping possessively around a shoulder or waist—they’re clearly eager to witness it all, but the anticipation hanging in the air is snuffed out by Jake leaning in and innocently brushing his lips over your cheek. To your side, there is a collective murmuring of disappointment that is, again, poorly disguised.

“You get here ok? I mean, you know, without complication?” Jake asks. A nod joins your budding grin. 

“Easy-peasy.” He stares more, his fingers traveling from your elbow to your wrist, and you suddenly remember what’s clutched in your hands. “Oh, I got you this,” you say, holding up the bag. It’s made of a thin, golden paper that’s priced way too high for its quality with clashing orange tissue sticking out of it, and it’s about four sizes too big for the gift you got him, but it was all the shop had last minute. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s your birthday. That’s what people do,” you counter, because even though you’ve never received a present on your birthday, Jake is the type of guy who always should. You hold the bag higher, forcing him to take it.

“Thank you,” he says before turning to set the bag on the table. It’s then that you see the remnants of paper and bows scattered across the wooden surface. Piled on a couple of stools behind Bob are the gifts he has already opened. Jake’s hand starts to dig through the bright orange tissue paper. 

“You’re going to open it right now?” you ask, having previously imagined there would be at least a sliver less of attention on the two of you when he does. Your fingers of one hand begin to fiddle with the fingers of the other. 

“Sure, why not?” His hand pauses and he looks at you a little harder. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

“N-No, it’s fine.” A blond brow raises. “Really, it is.”

He waits a second longer before resuming his discarding of the paper. When he looks inside, his hand retreats, and he watches your gift at the bottom of the bag as if it might start moving on its own. Then his head shakes and he grins ear to ear and he reaches back in to pull it out. The brows of the other aviators pinch in confusion at the globe sitting in the palm of Jake’s hand. In all of its cheap glory, it contains a beach scene with plenty of unnatural sparkly snow settled at the bottom of the liquid which is quickly disturbed by Jake’s light shaking. He chuckles. Then chuckles some more. Crinkles deepen at the corners of his eyes.

“I don’t get it,” Rooster mutters, only to have Millie elbow him in the side. 

“You don’t have to,” she scolds. “Now hush.”

Despite Jake’s laughter, when he places the snow globe back in the bag you fear you’ve somehow fucked up. That it’s not as cute as you imagined he would think. That he’d rather you have gotten him nothing over something so silly. But then he faces you, takes your hand, and as he starts to walk away from the table, whispers, “Come with me.”

As you’re led away you glance over your shoulder to see that your friends are all in different states. Nat and Bob are exchanging glances and snickering at the birthday boy’s rapid departure, Millie is smacking her boyfriend’s hand as he reaches for the golden bag, and Javy smirks along with the statement “That certainly didn't take long.” 

You look ahead, but before you can fully catch up with your surroundings, you’re yanked through a door and pushed up against the other side of it as a mouth firmly presses to yours. Jake’s palm smacks the surface next to you, blindly feeling around for the deadbolt, and the thud from its turn echoes in the empty bathroom. Then his hands cup your cheeks and you melt as he pulls you in closer. 

At a different time, with a different man, unmanageable thoughts would be taking control of your senses right now. Your fingers would be stiffening and your eyes would be snapping open, darting around to take in every square inch of the room in search of signs of other people. You would be listening for any and every sound with such intensity that you’d have a decent count on the number of footsteps passing by the other side of the door. You wouldn’t be letting yourself go or forget your troubles or feel for a single moment because you know what this behavior looks like. You know how others often perceive it. In the midst of past frenzied kisses, your brain would deteriorate into a fractured mess. Ten percent of your mind would struggle to focus on the wandering hands and lips attached to yours; fifteen percent would go to wondering if anyone saw you sneak into the bathroom with a man; twenty would be spent worrying you’ll receive looks of judgment and pity once you rejoin the bar; twenty-five would be questioning why you’re choosing to be in the position you’re in when you know it won’t end well; and the remaining thirty percent would be trying to prematurely push away the shame to come when the somewhat intoxicated man kissing you in the bar bathroom decides he is done. 

It’s not a different time, though. You’re not with a different man. You’re exactly where you are, with the man you are with, and you don’t care about anything but him. 

Jake is pulled in with hands fisted in the material of his shirt. He’s your only source of stability and direction as he turns your bodies and walks you backward. When your lower back meets the edge of the sink, you separate the kiss and instinctually jump up. Of course you jump. You always jump in these situations. But this time when your bottom lands on top of the counter, you don’t second guess the man whose hips are settling between your spread thighs, whose eyes gaze at you like you’re the most incredible thing they've ever seen, whose hands are threading into your hair, whose lips are once again claiming yours. 

His tongue teases the seam of your lips and when you part them so it can slip inside to brush along yours, muffled moans merge. The fingers hidden within the strands of your hair tighten into fists. They stay there until your own hands begin to explore. One index finger curls through a belt loop, tugging inward to remove what little distance remains between you. The other is the first on that hand to dip under the hem of his shirt and stroke over a patch of tanned skin just above the button of his jeans. You love how he feels there—hard with thick muscle but soft from the trail of hair that disappears under a band of denim. Jake shudders against you, and it seems to serve as a reminder that there is more of you for him to touch as well. 

With your hair freed, a hand grasps your outer thigh where your dress has ridden up. Fingertips knead flesh as an arm snakes around your waist. A squeak of surprise gets stuck in your throat when that arm jerks forward, unexpectedly managing to inch your bottom closer to the edge of the counter. 

There is so much happening, so much to absorb, and you don’t have a chance to mentally address the tick of uncertainty that never showed itself. Instead, you are simply full of the feeling that none of this scares you. Not a bit of it. Not the strength of his arm around you. Not the hand that has begun to slide up your thigh and under the hem of your dress to the swell of your ass. Not the pressing of his hips into the space between your legs. Not the heat he gives off that fights the chill of the room. Not his teeth nibbling your bottom lip, or the whimpers it draws forth that with anyone else would have you shrinking in embarrassment. You’re so far from afraid that you've crossed into happily addicted territory.

His mouth vanishes from yours to latch onto your neck. The sound you make at the new sensation has Jake’s hold on you tightening. 

“All because of a—” you gasp from a teasing lick under your ear, “a snow globe?”

You’ve learned that Jake likes to leave trails of his kisses; mark after mark to show the places he’s been. It is between the kisses of this trail from your ear to your shoulder that you hear “Partly the snow globe,” after one kiss, “partly this dress,” after another, and then “mostly just because it’s you.”

Jake chuckles when you sigh and wrap your arms around his neck. You could let him continue on for hours—would, too—but a banging on the door snaps you out of your blissful haze. 

Cursing, your spine straightens like a rod. “J-Just a second!” you yell, patting Jake’s shoulder. He hums into your sensitive skin, sending vibrations over your pulse. “Jake, I know you heard that. People want in.” There’s another knock, and another. Leaning back and placing your hands on his cheeks, you force Jake to look at you. “Time for you to leave.”

He holds his finger up. “One condition.”

“No conditions,” you say as you nudge him aside and hop off the counter. “There are women out there who have to pee.”

It’s a boom this time, leaving no question as to the person’s impatience. Twisting around, you glance over yourself in the mirror. Your lips are stolen, hair wild, and as you go about fixing it back into place, Jake’s arms wrap around your waist. 

“Promise me we can continue this at home,” he says. “I don't want to stop.” 

Your eyes meet his in the mirror. “Maybe…if you go.”

“Deal.” One more kiss lands on your shoulder before Jake is unbolting the door and jerking it open for whoever is on the other side. He peeks his head out, glances left and right, then looks back at you. “No one’s here.”

“You still have to go.” His face falls into a pout. “Don’t look at me like that. All of your friends are waiting for you, anyway.”

“They're waiting for you, too.”

“It's not my birthday. And I need to fix myself up a bit.”

Jake grins. Watching his reflection in the mirror, you see his eyes linger on your face and chest, enjoying the flush he caused that is more prominent under the fluorescents. They then make a slow line down your body, taking the time to appreciate your ass along the way. “That really is a great dress.”

Your flush deepens. “Go,” you demand, “I’ll be there in a minute.” He winks and then he’s gone. 

A squeeze traps the air in your lungs. It caves in your chest, making the thumping of your heart all the more demanding of your attention, and you roll your eyes when it becomes clear that your body is reacting to you missing him. Two seconds apart and you already want him back, and now you feel like a giddy fool; a horny teenager around the first boy to ever truly want her. 

Blowing out that trapped breath, you run your fingers through your hair to tame it. It doesn’t manage to return to its previous state, but there is nothing you can do about it. Neither can you remove that pink shade from your cheeks and chest despite the damp paper towel you blot over your skin. You look half-sexed, and it’s comically obvious. But maybe if you channel Jake Seresin energy and walk back to your friends’ table without looking guilty, they won’t look at you like you have something to be guilty of. Not guilty in a demeaning sense, of course, but guilty in a way that will have them shooting teasing looks at you right before Nat and Millie pull you away from the men for details of your actions.

That will have to be your plan, because there is no chance they won’t notice your altered appearance, especially when they immediately knew why you and Jake were disappearing to begin with. 

Shaking your head, you tug at the bottom of your dress to make sure all of its seams line up with where they are supposed to be on your body. When you decide it’s about as good as it’s going to get, you head for the door and pull it open, but your path is blocked. 

“Good thing he finally left,” Brit says. She steps forward and to avoid a collision you have to take a step back into the bathroom. “Now we have a chance to talk.”

---

Tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 46

Part 1 Part 45

Hopper’s idling by the trailer when Steve and Eddie exit on the way to school the next morning. Eddie’s forehead immediately breaks out in anxiety-sweats. He stumbles back a step on instinct, arm up to waylay Steve. Nothing good ever came from the Chief of Police loitering in front of a drug dealer’s trailer. 

Hopper cranks his window down, leaning out enough to stick his head partially out, and shouts over at them, “you cleared to go to school already, Harrington?” 

Eddie drops his arm – threat categorized, acknowledged, and discarded. Steve steps over the threshold and down the front steps, each foot placed carefully, lest he stumble in front of Hopper. 

“It’s fine,” Steve says, like he always does.

“Your doctor say that?”

Steve shifts his eyes toward Eddie, like he’s begging for help. Eddie clears his throat, pointedly not curling his shoulders in when Hopper shifts his glare over to him. “He went yesterday,” he calls over, like a chump. Because what his majesty wants, Eddie will provide.

Hopper raises his eyebrows, letting them stew in the silence as he keeps his eyes trained on Eddie. Weakest link sighted. And just like every time he finds himself in this standoff with the bane of his existence, he folds. “He’s not supposed to go back until Monday!”

“Munson!” Steve grouses. Eddie’s guts churn at being last-named again.

“But” Eddie starts, waving his hand in Steve’s face like that’ll buy him a few more seconds of grace. “You gotta let him go, Hopper.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” he grouses, still glaring into Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie fidgets, hoping Steve won’t be too pissed off. “Harrington here’s a flight risk,” he says, patting his head lightly, like a dog who’s just performed a marvelous trick. “You don’t give him something to do? We might never see him again.”

Steve scoffs, but notably doesn’t pull away from Eddie’s hand or refute his point. 

Hopper continues glaring at both of them before sighing out like a beleaguered dog and rolls up his window. He doesn’t drive away. “Is that–” Steve starts, squinting at Hopper through his now-closed window. “Is that permission?”

“We don’t beg for permission, Stevie.” Eddie trails his hand through Steve’s peach-fuzz hair before skipping over to where his van’s parked, knowing without looking that Steve’s following him. He slides into the driver’s seat, waits for Steve to slide in as well before turning the key in the ignition. “We don’t even ask for forgiveness.”

He smiles over at Steve, cheeks hurting from the force of it. He feels like he’s just taken three shots of espresso, back to back to back. Steve smiles over at him, small but real, eyes shining in the morning sun. His hair glows golden in the sunlight, and his skin, still slightly sallow, is flushed pink in the cheeks. 

“We don’t?” Steve asks quietly. He sounds excited. Like a kid told he’d get to open his birthday presents early. 

Eddie’s endeared, any reluctance drained out of him around the second time Steve Harrington had saved his life. “Naw.” He reaches over, patting Steve’s knee, not letting his fingers linger like they want to. He cranks the engine, Black Sabbath booming from the speakers until Steve turns it down a few notches. “That’s for squares. And you, Steve Harrington, are a certified badass.”

Steve’s smiling out the window when Eddie glances over, watching trailers pass by. Electric Funeral turns over to War Pigs. Eddie sings along quietly as Steve bops his head along to a beat he doesn’t even know.

Hopper follows them all the way to school, his truck idling at the curb until Eddie pulls into a spot and takes out the key. Neither of them mention anything.

School passes in a mindless haze. Eddie listens to lectures on calculus and geography and the themes in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, lets it all fly over his head. Not even in one ear and out the other – that implies it went into his brain at all.

Jeff gives him dirty looks throughout calc, like he can tell Eddie’s checked out past the point of return and is feeling a sense of paternal disappointment over his lack of work ethic. 

Eddie’d checked out long before Demogorgon’s and Demon Worlds made an appearance in his life. Now, class feels like biding time until he can get Steve back in his sights. Graduating feels like another step away from Harrington that he doesn’t want to take.

So he sits and stews and ignores Jeff’s disappointed eyes, and regrets that Steve’s a year below him and not smart enough to pass calc either.

Seeing him walk into lunch is a religious experience. Eddie sighs into his suspicious casserole, staring at Steve with reverence. He’s talking to Barb quietly, standing beside her in the lunch line. 

Steve laughs at something she says, and Eddie swears he can almost hear it across the cacophony of the lunchroom rush. 

“Dude,” Gareth says from beside him.

Eddie jumps, whipping his head over to where Gareth had snuck up on him. “When did you get here?” he hisses, narrowing his eyes.

Gareth stares back, deadpan. Eddie misses when his little sheep were at least a little bit afraid of him. Honestly, the gall. “I was here before you sat down.”

Ah, well. Eddie hunches, looking around the table that’s seemingly filled in around him. “So?”

Gareth leans closer, keeping his voice lowered. “Are you, like in love with Harrington?” Gareth asks, voice quiet enough for discretion even as it lentils up harshly at the end. 

“No, shut up!” Eddie hisses back, but something restless and wanting unfurls as the fishhook in his ribs slackens with Steve’s approach. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

“—could help you,” Barb is saying, inexplicably sitting at the wrong freaks and geeks table again. Clearly, there’s still trouble in paradise. “I’m free Thursday’s after school.”

Steve slides in next to Eddie, matching suspect casserole to Eddie’s own. He doesn’t look away from his conversation from Barb, but he slides his knee into Eddie’s, easy like breathing. Even easier, with Steve’s track record of not doing that.

“Really?” Steve asks, leaning toward her over the table. 

Barb shrugs, nonchalantly, pulling that same bagged sandwich from her bag to munch on. “Sure, why not?”

She says it like it’s nothing, but Steve exhales like the world just stopped ending. “Thanks,” he sighs. “I’m just so behind, and my Dad–” he cuts off, shoves a forkful of slop in his mouth like that’s the reason for the pause. “I just don’t want to be held back.”

Jeff, the traitor, looks over to Barbara and unhelpfully contributes, “are you guys planning a study group?” he asks, continuing before she has a chance, “because this one could use a little of that.”

Eddie doesn’t let anyone else get in a word. “I can’t Jeffery,” Eddie sneers. “Thursday is Hellfire.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows like he’s thinking deeply, starts, “we could maybe do it on Wed—”

“That’s fine!” Eddie says. “I’m doing fine!”

He glares around at the table, daring anyone to say anything. Jeff scoffs, and Steve still looks worried, but no one says anything. Study group is born, and Eddie’s plans are finalized: his graduating class will be moving on without him.

He only hopes Wayne understands. 

Part 47

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso

[hannahssimblr]

I shoulder through the front doors into the fresh spring air, still a little breathless with adrenaline, to where Michelle is waiting for me. She looks unhappy. 

“How did it go?” I say. 

“Oh, awful, they were like robots, so intimidating. I didn’t know what they thought of my work, you know? I really thought I’d start crying at one point.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and that woman was so cold. She was pulling all of these faces at my self portraits and saying they were naive.”

“Oh, God,” In an attempt at reassurance I start rubbing her arm, “I’m sure they liked plenty things about your work.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I sensed they hated all of it.”

“They couldn’t have, it’s probably just your perception, they… I bet they’re harsh to everyone, you know? They probably don’t want to get anyone's hopes up with there being limited places and all…”

She looks at me, “Was yours bad too?”

“Awful,” I say without missing a beat, “Same as you, they gave me nothing. It was hard to tell what they really thought of my work, but they didn’t seem overjoyed by any of it to be honest.”

“Oh,” her shoulders relax, “well if they were like that with you then they must be just playing hard ball.”

“I think so.”

“What if we don’t get in?”

“Well fuck ‘em,” I grin, “We don’t need them. NCAD? Who cares, right? It’s not exactly at the top of our list.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I usually am.”

“Something else will work out, right?”

“Of course it will! C’mon, let’s just grab a coffee and chill out,” I drape my arm over her shoulder and walk her around the corner to where I parked the car. 

The car, the brand new, shiny, blue Volkswagen Polo that my parents got me for my eighteenth birthday, is gleaming under the afternoon sun, one tyre wedged awkwardly against the kerb because I haven’t yet mastered the art of parallel parking when there are two other impatient drivers beeping their horns at me and gesticulating wildly out their windows. 

“He just got his fucking licence, you spas!” Michelle screamed at them from the passenger window as I manoeuvred myself into a gap big enough to house an articulated truck but somehow felt the width of a water closet as soon as I tried to fit my 1.0 litre hatchback into it. I could have told her that firing middle fingers at other drivers left and right wasn’t really doing much to diffuse the situation, but it seemed she was reaching some sort of catharsis from it. She likes that. Screaming, I mean.

This car has been a point of contention, not because I can’t park it well, but because it was an extravagance I neither needed nor desired. “We live in the city,” I protested when my parents handed me the keys, “I can just take the bus.” But they had this idea that I might like to drive it into school and be the envy of all the other students, poverty stricken losers without parents who can buy them vehicles worth half the average national salary. I told them I can just walk like always, and they didn’t like that. 

“This is a good present,” said my dad, as though insisting could make it so, “You can drive all over, you won’t have to rely on public transport any more.”

“Did I say I didn’t like public transport?”

“Well, you could get mugged on the bus, someone could pull out a knife and take your phone and all of your money! That kind of thing is happening all over the city lately.”

I showed him my Nokia from 2004 and asked him what kind of person might like to risk prison for it, but he didn’t appreciate that, and it just escalated the argument further. 

“I’m not going to even live in Ireland in a year, not if I can help it!” I cried with exasperation, after a further ten minutes of his dramatics, “What’s the point?”

“Sell it then!” he bellowed back, “I don’t care what you do! It’s yours!”

“I just don’t need it! It’s too much. You can use that money for something better.”

“Money? Money is not an issue.”

“Well that car will be wasted just sitting in the driveway.”

“You’ll figure out what to use it for.”

And I did. I still walk to school, I still take the bus into town most days (when I’m not hauling two A1 portfolio cases along with me), but sometimes, late at night Michelle and I drive up and down the coast. We get ice cream at the drive through, we talk, but mostly I park it in the darkest corner of some car park, sea facing for maximum romance, and we fuck in the passenger seat. Not that I’ve kept track of it by any means, but I’m almost certain I have spent more time having sex in my shiny, blue, Volkswagen Polo than actually driving it. I’m sure it wasn’t Christopher’s intention for it, and it might affect the resale value, but the car has become a haven of sorts, a place where we can go to be alone, at a safe distance from my nosy sister, from Michelle’s anxious father, and perhaps most vitally, from Jen, who has never quite stopped being weirded out by our relationship, even with nine full months to get used to it.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[checkingoutforheroes]

B.A.B.Y PROTOCOL

Part 4.

Avengers x fem!reader

Words: 1333

Synopsis: This takes place in Avengers: Age of Ultron. When The Avengers were at the rock bottom, Nick Fury and advised by Maria Hill, to initiate the B.A.B.Y Protocol. Will a young, damaged and broke girl agree to this initiative and help a team to save this planet earth?

Part 3

Main Masterlist

“There, that’s the truck from the lab. Right above you, Cap. By the bridge, it’s them. Got three with the cradle. I can take out the driver.” Clint was ready to shoot the truck but Steve disagree. “Negative. The truck crash, the gem could level the city. We need to draw out Ultron.” He jumps on the truck to get its attention.

Well, he did get its attention and it pissed. “No, no, no. Leave me alone!” Ultron shoot the truck door almost hit Steve. “Well, he is really unhappy! I’m trying to keep it that way!” Steve shouted while hanging on the broken door.

“You’re not a match for him, Cap.” Clint stated. “Thanks Barton.” Steve muttered.

Natasha sees the situation from their jet. “He needs help.” “I guess you wanna unpack your birthday present.” Clint told her to go behind the jet and wait for his queue. She pressed the button for the metal box and saw an electric Harley Davidson and mutter to herself. “That’s a birthday present.” She hops on the bike and waiting for Clint’s to open the bay. “We got a window. In 3,2, give him hell.”

The fights between them and the robots can take too much time and damaged. Natasha make other plans to their original plan of taking the cradle safely because it’s not working out so safe. “This isn’t going nowhere. Clint, can you draw the guards out?”

Clint shooting at Ulron in front of Steve trying to lure the minions out. “Let’s find out.” Three of the guard out and the truck is empty.

“Cap, keep him occupied. I’m going in!” Natasha drop her bike and jump into the truck.

Steve let out an exhausting breath. “What do you think I’ve been doing?”

Meanwhile at the tower, you walk on Maria and Fury’s discussion. “How’s everything? Did they get him?” Maria and Fury acknowledge your present and she pull a chair for you. “You should be on bed.” You just sat slowly on it. “Nah, I’ve been worse. This is nothing.”

Maria rolling her eyes at you. “You’ve been dead for 6 minutes until Tony change your device. What are worse than that?” You don’t have answer for that and Fury coming at you too. “And when are you planning on telling us? Next Christmas?” “I don’t even ask for it and I like to keep it shut. It’s not something to be proud of.” He huffs, “Once this is over, you’re going to see a doctor.” “Why everybody keeps telling me to find a doctor? I’ve been fine all this time. I’m here not to be taking care of. I’m here because the world is at stake and I’m here to help. Doing something, at least.”

“Proof that. Until then, you’re off the mission. Agent Hill, follow me to pick up our old stuff back.” Fury order. “Can I tag along?” Maria turns to you. “We’ll be back. Why don’t you help us monitoring them for us? Use this for contact and maybe help Stark and Banner. But please, for the love of God, don’t ever piss him off.” She walks out of the room, following Fury.

Bruce notice you’re walking towards them. “How’s your feeling?” “Just another day at the office. Still getting the hang of it.”

Tony and Bruce watched and heard some of your conversation earlier. “Gotta admit. I adore your spirit.” Tony expressed. “I never thank you, to both of you yet. Thank you, for saving my life.” Bruce smiling softly and nod. “You’re welcome.”

“Are you kidding? We’re a team. We’re the Avengers. Once you step a foot in this building, you’re the Avengers. We help each other. Well, maybe some of us being a pain in ass but yeah, you’re one of us now. Welcome to the club kid.” Tony reasoned it for you and your eyes lit up on them. “Really? You mean that? Am I, an Avengers?” Tony looking at Bruce while he continues working on his computer. “Bruce. Back me up here.” “I don’t see why not. You’re young and we’re all above 30. We can use a fresh blood.” “Legacy. Thanks Shrek.” Tony responded and you let out a chuckle “I guess you’re the one being the pain in ass.” “Everyone asses” Bruce nod down and we’ll continue our work.

While trying to crack the code for that cradle, Natasha feels the truck lifting. “The package just air borne. I have a clean shot.” Clint tell them on the comm. “Negative. I am still in the truck.” she needs to think fast.

“What the hell did you...” Natasha cut his sentences while cutting the rope that tied to the cradle. “Just be ready. I’m sending the package to you.”

Clint ready on his position. “How do you want me to take it?”

“Uhhh… You might wish you didn’t ask that.”

Wanda fly in the train to help Steve and front the Ultron. “Please. You don’t have to do that.” Somehow, Ultron is kinda sound scared and he fly out the train. “Surveillance in our path. Can you stop this train?” Steve ordered and both of them do their best to stop the train and people around it.

Once the cradle touches the Quinn jet floor, Ultron manage to snatch Natasha’s leg and take her with him. “Nat!” Clint saw the incident but he can’t do anything to help her while piloting the jet. “Cap, did you see Nat?”

“If you have the cradle, take it to Stark!” Steve ordered.

“Do you have eyes on Nat?!” Asking again for confirmation.

“Go!” Steve shout.

Wanda telling Steve about what Ultron’s plan. “I read him. Ultron can’t tell the difference between saving the world and destroying it. We have to move fast.”

He disappointed and fly that jet back to the tower and leave his friend behind. “Damn it!” He contact the tower when he’s close for them to prepare and inform about their current situation. “Quinn jet to tower. Quinn jet to tower.” You hear his voice and press a button to accept his call. “Quinn jet, this is Y/N speaking from the tower. You’re affirm to report.” Clint told you that he’s 15 minutes away to arrive and Natasha is missing in action. “Oh God.” You pull down the headset and running to find Tony and Bruce. “They’ve got Nat. She’s m.i.a.” Bruce takes his glasses off. “You have her tracker right?” Tony rush to his computer “I’ll find her.”

You and Banner helps Clint unload the cradle and bring it into the lab and Tony walks in. Disappointment shows on his face and Bruce ask before I do. “Did you find her?” He just walks straight toward the cradle. “Haven’t heard but I’m sure she’s alive or Ultron would rub us in the face.” Seriously? Did he truly find her at all? You want to ask him that but Clint change the topic. “This seal tight.” He stands next to you.

Tony turn around to look at both of you and Clint, ignoring Bruce. “Is there any chance she might leave a massage outside the internet? Old school spy stuff perhaps.”

“You worry about the cradle.”

“We’ll find her.” Both you and Clint walks out that lab.

Clint handle the modern tech frequency while you handle the old one. “You okay with that? Wanna switch up?” You tuning on the frequency “I’m good. I can’t be near that high tech frequency anyway. That’s why I still have my Walkman and not Bluetooth headset. You know, because my…” You pointing at your left chest and he nodding. “Right. I hope she led us somewhere.” You smile at him. “She’s Natasha. She’ll make plan.”

It is true. Natasha did figure something out. While you tuning the frequency, you hear a static note. Tuning it again to have a clear shot. Natasha sending you her location by Morse code. You tell Clint to decode it on the screen. “You’re right. She did have plan.”

[outcastpack]

I wanna drown in an ocean of you.

The birthday present moodboard

I'm also using this as a mini celebration for 200 followers because I only just realised I had hit it 😅🤣

Theo entered the garage, following Jenna in as she turns the lights on.

The women immediately went ahead to start routing through the boxes that surrounded the room to begin looking for the photo albums, but Theo's attention was pulled towards something else, in the centre of the garage sat a large sheet covering something- specifically a car if the outline was anything to go by.

"Whats that?" He asks Jenna, pointing at the covered vehicle when she turns to face him. The women instantly looks at the car fondly. "That was my father's car before he passed it on to me." Jenna stands to her feet moving towards the vehicle motioning for Theo to help her.

Together they pull the sheet off the vehicle. Theo's eyes widen as the car is revealed.

A 1970s Ford Mustang.

The vehicle is in definite need of repair and restoration. His eyes skimming over the cars black exterior.

Jenna has moved. Walking along the car stroking her hand over the hood. "I used to drive this car everywhere, even Liam grew up with me driving it." Theo moves along the car looking through the drivers door window.

As expected the interior was in need of help. New seats needed and potentially a new steering wheel not even counting if the car would even start up.

"I wanted to pass it on to Liam one day, but the old girl was damaged and her parts are hard to come by, if not impossible. " Jenna is motioning towards the front of the car now where the front bumper and hood were damaged leading up to the passenger side.

"I couldn't bare the thought of being rid of her though. She was my own father's and is one of the last things I have of him." Jenna’s voice cracks a little as she speaks. Theo turns back to face Jenna seeing the slight wetness in her eyes as she reminisces over the vehicle.

"Does it start?" He asks her. Eyeing the car with interest. A small idea forming in his head.

Jenna turns towards the wall where a rack of keys hangs off it. Pulling out a set and motioning towards the vehicle. She opens the drivers door- ignoring the dust that comes away.

She puts the key in the ignition turning it to try and start the vehicle.

Nothing happens

She tries again- and again.

The engine roars a little before dieing, immediately shutting off.

The women sighs climbing out. Eyeing the vehicle with sadness. "She has been sat here for years now." She sighs sounding a little dejected turning put the key back on the rack.

Theo reachs out, taking the key slowly out her hands. Walking around the car.

Theo stays silent as his gaze returns solely back to the car.

He imagines a younger Jenna driving the car for the first time, to a young Liam sat on her knee holding the wheel while he tries to reach the peddles.

He imagines a 19 year old Liam driving this car.

It being parked outside the beach house or Theo's apartment next to Theo's own truck.

A checklist forming in his head over what the car needs.

New bumper and hood, the interior needing to be restored, issue with the engine needing to be fixed, potentially a full replacement of it, and the exterior needing a complete respray to make it look new along with other things.

Jenna was right. Parts like what it would need would be rare to come by.

Luckily Theo knew just the man that had the contacts they would need. Who had restored other older models before. Theo was sure with his dad's helped, they could both get the Mustang running again.

Theo smiles at Jenna, tapping his hand along the top of the car. "I'm gonna need to borrow her for awhile." The women eyes her sons boyfriend with confusion while Theo's grin just widens.

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Lontano

Chapter Seven

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Crowley(mentioned), Sam, Annie, Madison, Lee, Gibson (child OMC), Pamela, Kevin, Bobby, Claire and Krissy

Word Count: 2250

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, Reader is left in the dark (for now), Reader's lack of self esteem, Pamela being kind of blunt, hinted past Sam/Annie, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

Divider courtesy of @cafekitsune

You laid in bed staring at the burst of sunlight sprouting out of your valances. You did not want to get up, or check your phone. It was a rare, quiet Sunday morning and you had no plans besides laundry. Bela had a big event the night before, so you weren’t meeting for brunch, for which you were kind of grateful. It felt like you had been staring at her face all week anyway, as much as you had been scrolling for chatter about her and Dean. You groaned and buried yourself beneath your comforter.

 The outside world could wait for another few minutes, not to mention the constant nagging worry of work could fuck right off. 

Because that’s all this anxiety was, work stress. The pressure from the label felt like it weighed solely on your shoulders, despite the band’s extended recording schedule for the new album and everyone’s thinning patience with Dean’s perfectionism. There was nothing else even going on in your life that could even compare. You were probably dehydrated. You shifted to peek out of your covers to find your water bottle empty on your nightstand, oh well.

Eventually, you got up, went about your business, and started a pot of coffee. Resigned to checking your phone while the coffee brewed, you shuffled back to your bedroom to pull it off the charger. Before you could even begin to sort through your text notifications, a headline alert glared at you from your lock screen. Panic flooded your uncaffeinated mind and you clicked on the link.

Gaping, you scrolled through the short article about the benefit filled with speculation about Dean’s presence at Bela’s side. You backed out of that article and dove into the rest of your updates. The pictures were fantastic, filled with easy smiles and casual touches. Dean in a tux was a rare thing, but he kept up his end of the bargain and dressed to match Bela’s standards. Your brain still stuttered over seeing them together, two parts of your life that hadn’t really overlapped until now. A silent ‘how was I not there?’ popping up as you continued to scroll.

The shrill beeping of the coffee pot pulled your eyes off your phone and back into the kitchen around you. It was just after ten, and you had to stop yourself from texting Dean or Bela an interrogation length message each. For the most part, the publicity seemed positive and more than curious about these two from such different worlds. 

Was it actually working?!

You inhaled and finally poured yourself a mug, letting the hope fizzle in your chest as you sat down at your desk and really began to dig. Sometime after one, you were pulled out of your email inbox by the doorbell. Who in the hell? Dumbfounded, you threw on a hoodie as you rushed to answer the door. You had to kick the rug because it always folded on itself underneath the lip of the door. Grunting, you gave up, sticking your head out to answer a disinterested floral delivery driver.

“Uh, I’ve got flowers for Ms. Y/L/N?” They checked their tablet. 

“That’s me,” you said, straightening up to look at the bundled bouquet as they handed you the stylus to sign confirmation of the delivery. You had no idea who would be sending you flowers, and it definitely wasn’t your birthday.

“Alright, that’s all I need. Here ya go,” they said, presenting the vase to you with the practiced ease of a single balanced hand. “Have a good one.”

You took the flowers, which you could smell through the paper barrier and watched them get back into their truck and back out of the narrow driveway that no one ever used. Confused, you set the package down on your kitchen table and started to tear out the perfectly spaced staples. They were gorgeous, lilies in whites and oranges. Tucked into the ribbon tied around the vase was a handwritten card.

Keep up the good work. Regards, Crowley

“You’ve got to be freakin’ kidding me!” you balked. You checked the back of the card, there was no ‘gotcha’, it really was from the label exec. You set the card down face up, resting beside the vase and snapped a picture. No one was going to believe you, you needed the proof, right?

You told yourself it wasn’t bragging, no matter how smug it made you feel.

 The adoption event was something the band did every year, helping Annie (and now Madison, too) with a pre-holiday push to clear out the animal shelter and also spend time with adorable animals. Sam was in heaven, taking dogs through the yard, parading the dogs along the side of the building in the makeshift track, and running around with the excitable pups. Madison mained the welcome table while Annie oversaw a lot of the paperwork inside, helping people get approved and matched with pets that would fit each prospective adopter’s lifestyles and hopes.

The staff knew everyone by reputation, though Sam had been a regular volunteer since before Madison had even been hired on as a receptionist. So, they helped you all get eased into your rolls for the day, however informal they were. Lee brought Gibson along and they were making small talk with a family as the mother filled out forms. Kevin, new to the event, stood back and waited to be told what to do. Bobby kept the breakroom and the waiting room stocked with coffee and pastries. Though Dean’s allergies and his unwillingness to budge on his no pets rule with Sam meant he always bowed out, you knew he was a regular not-so-anonymous donor. 

Which left you and Pamela in the cat room, playing with a litter of kittens that were too young to be adopted out this round, but were all the more frisky with all the excitement buzzing around the shelter. 

“Oh my god, hello, tough stuff! Aren’t you the biter?!” Pamela cooed at a gray tiger who was overly fond of her jewelry.

“No fiercer a predator was there ever,” you agreed, dangling a stick with feathers on the end in front of its sleeker, paler littermate.

After a few minutes Pamela leaned back and let the kitten attempt to scale her lap. “God, I needed this. This album— fuck, it’s been brutal,” she sighed.

Worry clouded your thoughts, but you knew better than to ever say the first thing that came to your mind around Pamela, she always read between the lines. 

“Everything going okay?” you asked, hearing about the sessions from Dean was one thing. He may be the lead singer, but he really was only one dude in a band of five differing personalities.

Pamela huffed and tilted her head, you felt like she was measuring your capacity for the truth. “The sound is good. We’re meshing. It’s just— since Cas leaving for that ephemeral crap or whatever that pipsqueak is calling it— Dean’s been on edge about every fucking thing. And Lee’s offered to help, hell he’s got a half dozen songs ready to go, but—”

“Dean feels like he has to do it all himself,” you finished for her.

“And he’s being a complete martyr about it.”

You nestled a kitten against your chest and hummed, ruffling its ears as you thought. You hadn’t really talked to Dean all week, after all the publicity you had to sift through after Bela’s event and trying to line things up with Meg at Rolling Stone, finally. You couldn’t have known any of this, since you were so separate from that part of the process.

“And no offense, but this friend of yours? Was it really the best timing? He’s just getting his groove back— he doesn’t need more distractions,” Pamela tacked on in her no-nonsense way.

You couldn’t stop your eyebrows from raising in surprise, because this was coming from the woman who had married and divorced her bandmate multiple times. But Lee wasn’t Dean, and you knew they still played their parts despite whatever was going on at home. The band came first, well, after Gibson.

You told yourself it was Sam that agreed it was best to keep it from the band, the extra pressure you had inadvertently put on Dean. You knew you had to toe that line. 

“Dean’s a big boy, Pamela. If you think he needs to loosen up, you gotta tell him. He listens to you more than anybody, probably even Sam. Especially when it comes to music stuff. Bela and him— that’s his business. I’m not even sure how serious it is, as much as I love them both—.”

Pamela chuckled, breaking your momentum, but you pushed on.

“I’m staying a neutral party. I can’t really play matchmaker and then question if it’s a good idea. They can make their own choices.”

Another kitten crawled into your lap and you set the one you had been holding down next to it, so they could play. You felt Pamela watching you with her knowing eyes and from experience you knew she was going to continue to throw you for a loop with whatever she said next.

“Now who’s playing the martyr?”

You sighed and looked back at her, and luckily it seemed like she was at least teasing and not being snide. One of the kitten’s claws dug through your jeans and you yelped, pulling it off of your thigh. You stood to put it back in the crate with the rest of the litter.

“Just talk to him, he’ll let Lee get a song down, I can almost guarantee it.”

You gazed down at the innocent fur balls and wished your life held more silly little pleasures than it did. But you knew you didn’t deserve it, deep down.

You dragged out your phone and snapped some pictures of the kittens, then held it up to Pamela in question. She nodded and snuggled her kitten against her cheek, scrunching up her face for the shelter website. You’d send all of your shots to Annie later, let her pick and choose how to celebrate the event and advertise for next year.

Throughout the day, you got plenty of shots of the band with animals and the workers sending happy families off with new fur members. The day was winding down, but you stuck around to help anyway you could. You wiped down the breakroom table as Sam hauled the last of the pastries out to Bobby’s truck to bring home for Dean and to the studio if they lasted until Monday.

You tried not to pay attention when two of the younger staff members came in muttering, the blonde girl making the brunette openly gape. 

“No way! Grossssssssss.” 

“Shut up, she’s still got it, for her age.”

The brunette sighed and shook her head. “Sure, I guess, but didn’t she like set them up?”

The blonde shook her head. “I don’t think so, he was just here a lot when his brother was being a dick, and then Madison and him like bonded over shit.”

After that you couldn’t help but listen, because they were obviously talking about Sam. 

“Besides the thing with Annie was like forever ago, she’s been married for like three years or something and Madison just started here over the summer,” the blonde seemed unfazed by the amount of gossip she was conveying.

“I guess I just didn’t think about how well everyone knows each other.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” the blonde smirked.

Lee chose that moment to come into the breakroom with Gibson thrown over his shoulder, but the crook in his eyebrow told you he knew the college kids were being snarky. “Hey, Trouble, you ready to go? Little man here said his Uncle Dean told him everybody could come over for grub.”

The girls seemed to freeze in place, having not noticed your presence. You looked around the room, checking to see if it was cleaned up enough to call it a day. “Uh–”

You had no reason to bail on the band, but you had been looking forward to a night alone at your place. As lame as that seemed for a Saturday night, something was telling you that you’d make an idiot of yourself if you were left alone in Dean’s presence, or even Sam’s after the juicy details you’d just heard.

“I’ve actually got to get home and start sorting through the photos, but thanks for the offer.”

Lee’s face changed, bright eyes squinting in suspicion, but Gibson started to struggle. “You sure?” he asked, flipping his son over in front of him so he was back on his feet facing you, a giggling, miniature version of himself standing guard.

You looked down at the six-year-old and couldn’t help but grin. “Buddy, will you tell your Uncle Dean that I’m busy working and I’ll see him later?”

Gibson nodded excitedly, showing off the gap where he’d lost a tooth, and gave you the thumbs up, happy to play messenger for his favorite uncle.

 Lee spun towards the door, guiding Gibson at his side, “I guess that means it’s just us in the car cuz Mom’s already headed out. Later, Trouble!”

You shook your head at the adorableness and pulled out your phone to order a ride. Sometimes it was a real pain not driving by yourself, but you made your peace with never getting behind a wheel again long ago.

Tagging: @deans-spinster-witch@mrswhozeewhatsis@cosicas-cuquis@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like@suckitands33@ladysparkles78@deans-baby-momma@stoneyggirl2@sassy-pelican@leigh70@globetrotter28

Chapter Seven: Lilt

[damnlance]

part 2 of my klance blurb but in lance’s pov. happy new year!

what a crazy fucking morning. scratch that. what a crazy fucking week. lance’s parents were on him about his stupid car, again. take it to the car wash, lance. get your tires rotated, lance. don’t forget your wax appointment, lance. at this point, they cared more about the car than they did their own son. lance had WAY better things to do than take care of some car for fucks sake.

he hated his car. it was a present for his twenty-third birthday three fucking years ago! lance was a little naive back then, thinking a fast, sexy bmw in his favorite color would get him laid every night. thank god he grew out of that phase after five months of nothing.

after his parents nagged him about the car, he was fed up. like actually the last straw. so he left that morning with hopes that when he returned home, the stupid car didn’t. he prayed on it. and although he was a little bit reckless and fucking dumb, his prayers were answered when he saw a big truck heading his way. he wasn’t proud of this in the slightest, but.. he needed this.

so he slows down, real slow. the highway is busy as everyone is on their way to work. it’s perfect. lance looks around for any cops because he’s about to ruin this car for good. he hopes he doesn’t die. he prays again for an angel to watch over him. then.. he becomes a maniac.

he swerves a little to the left. a car honks at him and he gets back into his lane. he goes a little to the right, heart beating fast in his chest. at times he slows down so much that he’s barely even driving and man does he feel dangerous!

maybe too dangerous.

okay, no, this is CRAZY!! he could get himself killed!! and probably injure the truck driver behind him! or others! yeah, this is fucking idiotic.

so lance changes his mind and.. goes with the flow of traffic. he starts driving like he means it. where is he going? he doesn’t know but maybe if there’s anything interesting near by, he’ll stop.

he decides to think of another way to get rid of this car. maybe he could leave the keys inside and go to the mall and just never come out. that could work. or maybe let some random person take it for a joyride and hope they take it forever. maybe. lance gets so lost in his thoughts that he misses the idiot car that cuts him off and break checks him. his foot becomes a little too heavy on the brakes and before he can get his bearings, BOOM!

he gets rear ended..

by the fucking truck.

lance’s heart beats a trillion times a minute because if anyone was watching or if the truck has a dash cam OORRR if the truck driver was a cop!? lance would be over.

he checks his body for any bruises or injuries. he’s good. his back will probably be sore but he’s so hopped up on adrenaline that he can’t focus on that right now. it’s clear that other cars have seen the accident and are moving out the way so they can merge over to the side of the road. lance goes and when he sees the truck following him, it becomes real what he did.

everything horribly wrong runs through his veins as he proceeds to get over onto the shoulder lane of the highway, the not-so-banged-up truck following close behind. lance takes a deep breath, then another one. he looks in his side mirror to see the truck driver getting out of the truck, looking visibly shaken up. guilt wracks lance’s brain as he takes another deep breath and gets out the car.

the first thing he notices is the bumper. totaled. that’s a good thing, his parents will be devastated. now, whether they’ll be devastated for the car or lance’s safety is questionable.

no it’s not. it’s the latter.

the next thing lance notices that gets his breath taken away is the sight of blood from the stranger. his heart begins to beat fast again as more horrible things run through his mind.

“holy crow!” he shouts, walking a little closer and staring the guy down. he can’t be much older than lance is. how did he become a truck driver???? aren’t there rules and regulations for that kind of thing?? nope, not important. “are you alright, man!?”

“m-me?” the dark haired guy answers and lance feels all the guilt twist in his gut. he clearly has whiplash. or.. something. but lance didn’t know that car was going to cut him off! if anything, he saved his own life. he’d rather be the rear-ended one than the rear-ender if that makes sense. lance moves even closer and continues to stare at the guy, searching his eyes for any signs of a concussion. he grips him by the shoulders and that’s when he sees the blood.

“oh, dude, you’re bleeding!” he exclaims, heart beating faster. he stares down this guy and for a second.. something happens.

it’s like time goes slow or something? it’s got to be the adrenaline in his body because the way this guy is staring at him is making lance feel kinda weird? he continues to examine his face and neck and eyes. no signs of whiplash but this guy is staring up at lance like he’s the greatest thing he’s ever seen. it has lance’s stomach flipping and makes the examination all the harder. but while he’s at it, lance takes a good look at him. he’s got clear pale skin, almost porcelain like, not a pimple, blemish, or whitehead in sight, and it makes lance wonder what his skincare routine is. thick and bushy eyebrows sit atop his eyes and when lance looks into those eyes, they’re dark. almost violet but not. maybe ultramarine? they’re mysterious yet.. mesmerizing. his eyes are kinda almond shaped and they’re the prettiest eyes he’s ever gazed upon, even with the light traces of eyeliner around them, making them more bold. his lashes are ten times prettier than lance’s own as they fawn out over and around his eyes. his black hair is styled into a messy mullet type thing and as much as lance doesn’t like mullets, it suits this guy fucking good. a little too good. lance inhales and gets a whiff of him, and he smells about as good as an abercrombie model would. fresh and earthy. like pine.

lance snaps out of his trance when the smell of blood hits his nose and tries to shake the guy a little because it looks like something is wrong. he’s got this empty look on his face and he hasn’t blinked for at least a minute.

“dude!” lance pinches his arm near his elbow and that gets him back.

“h-huh?” the guy says, blinking a few times.

“i said you’re bleeding!” lance reaches up to touch the dark haired man’s forehead, moving his long, soft shoulder length hair out of his face. lance touches his hairline with two fingers and holds them in the stranger’s eye view to show him the blood. that just about does it for him as he snaps out of whatever funk he was in. he jumps back a few feet, a light blush filling his pale cheeks. lance can’t help the small yet subtle smirk that breaks across his face.

“i-i’m sorry!” the stranger says, holding his arms around his body.. his beefy body.

the smirk on lance’s face doesn’t falter for a second. “for bleeding? yeah, dude, it’s cool.” he replies in a lighthearted tone. that gets the dark haired man squirming and damn near foaming at the mouth with words. lance can only stand there, finding his nervousness adorable. he jabbers about, mentioning things like car insurance, paying for the ‘horrible damages’ to lance’s bmw, and even going as far as to apologize for the blood on lance’s fingers.. from his forehead.

it’s cute. he’s cute.

“dude?” lance sends a charming wide smile his way. he shushes mr eyeliner and it actually works. his mouth zips tight into a line.

“hm..” his sexy adam’s apple bobs up then down. his dark eyes focused on lance’s own.

“i don’t care about the car.” lance admits, a little too nonchalantly. he watches as this hot ass guy’s mouth falls open like he’s just said the most out of pocket thing in the world. and he probably has. rich parents problems.

“you don’t!?” the dark haired man damn near yells. but lance smiles at him, moving a little closer.

“no. i only care about the gash in your head.” lance can’t help but chuckle because the look on this guy’s face is priceless. it’s like he’s expecting the absolute worst thing to happen. “it’s pretty deep. i can go with you to the hospital..”

lance wants to go with him. he doesn’t want to go home. he didn’t really have any plans today other than to get rid of the one thing that’s keeping him weirdly tethered to his parents’ love or something. and hey, it worked. car totaled.

“no!” the cute stranger suddenly yells and it makes lance flinch a little. he wasn’t expecting a no. he continues to stare at this nervous little angel until his babbling comes back. “i mean! y-your car!! i-! your car is-! i didn’t mean to..”

lance has never smiled this much in one day. especially lately. it feels nice to have his facial muscles hurt from smiling instead of frowning or.. crying. and almost like a lightbulb floating above his head, lance has an idea.

“sir?” he says, reaching for his violet-eyed angel’s tense shoulders. he can feel the exact moment when those strong shoulders slouch and go lax under his hands. “relax.”

lance feels his eyes gravitate towards those mysterious indigo ones and he’s instantly locked in. once again, time slows for him. he feels like his body is moving backwards while the rest of the world is moving forwards, kinda of like how he feels at the beach in between the sand and the waves. his heart begins it’s slow incline of pounding beneath his chest and it’s a new feeling for him. this beautiful stranger is making him feel things.

“o.. kay…” the long haired man nods, eyes never leaving lance’s own. it’s such an intense thing, staring into another person’s eyes and not feeling awkward or weird about it. lance catches the small blush start on the long haired man’s porcelain skin, filling his nose and out to his cheeks until he’s full on red. lance’s heart goes faster.

“you seem really distraught by the whole thing.” lance says, eyes quickly darting to his banged up car. “allow me to introduce myself. my name is lance.”

sexy mullet man only nods, mouth slightly open.

“and yours?” lance asks, eyes scanning over every ounce of that pretty face.

“k.. k-keith..” pretty dude stutters out.

keith! lance smiles, a chill of relief going down his spine. “it’s nice to meet you, keith.” he says, trying the name out on his tongue. he carefully moves his hands from the top of keith’s shoulders down to his forearms, experimentally giving them a gentle squeeze. lance inhales a little. god, he’s fucking ripped. he’s only about an inch or two shorter than lance, which doesn’t mean anything because lance is 6’0 tall, but the imagination is there. keith wears a black t-shirt with a black long sleeve underneath but even that’s not helping. keith has to have a six pack. he can’t have beefy arms like this with no six pack.

the literal ongoing traffic snaps lance out of his thoughts. right. side of the fucking road.

“mhm.” keith hums, batting those pretty eyes. lance curses himself. he removes his hands from keith’s body and lets out a small sigh. walking over to keith’s truck, he looks over to his car and examines the horrendous state it’s in. and a laugh churns in his gut.

“you know, you really did me a favor,” he sighs out, placing his hands on his hips. the soft material of his blue jeans underneath the palms of his hands does something to him. anger..?

“oh..” keith walks over to him a little hesitantly, looking from lance’s unrecognizable bmw to his giant truck. “how so?”

anger. lance feels anger. “i’ve been wanting to get rid of this car since i got it three years ago. my fancy rich parents got it for me for my twenty-third birthday and i’ve always hated it.”

he looks over and finds violet eyes. pale skin turning red. “i got into a fight with said parents about it a few days ago and kinda prayed that something bad would happen to it.” lance says, feeling selfish. he’s so happy about his car being crushed like a soda can that he hasn’t had any time to think about the fact that he could have been hurt. or worse. he doesn’t want to think about that. he crosses his arms over his chest and pushes the feeling down. “guess that makes you like my angel or something?” he flirts.

and it works because keith’s pink face goes a few shades darker and lance’s heart goes fast again, hooked on this feeling of making this total stranger squirm under his words. he smiles big again. “kidding.”

he walks to his car that’s about two feet away and opens the door. he reaches inside and grabs his backpack then reaches in the backseat to grab his fully packed duffle bag. he reaches into the cupholder and grabs his cinnamon flavored lip balm, tucking that into his pocket. he grabs his wallet, phone, and gum from inside the armrest and tucks those away into his pocket. he reaches over to open the glove compartment to grab all his little papers, knick-knacks, and emergency snacks, shoving those into his duffle bag. he grabs his keys and closes the door to his precious little car. he locks the door and gets a sick idea in his brain. lightbulb! he takes out his phone from his pocket and walks around to the back of his car. he focuses the camera onto the irreversibly dented backside of lance’s bmw and takes a pic. the anger is back and it’s going through his veins. he looks at the pic on his phone then goes to his messages.

‘sorry about your precious baby. i’m fine by the way.’

he nods his head and hits send.

“alright, sent.”

“what??” lance looks over to keith’s eyes growing wide. “you just-!”

“i just sent a pic to my annoying parents,” lance frowns, but a smile soon cracks through. “yeah, man.”

keith’s eyes bore into lance as lance smiles through his anger. he smiles like everything is okay. and it is because the way keith stares at him is enough to make lance believe that heaven is right here on earth and it’s standing in front of him, staring at him with intense dark eyes and a fucking mullet.

another idea. lance turns away to reach over and grab his license plate from the front of keith’s truck. he smiles at it in his hands. “this will make a great mantelpiece above my parent’s fireplace. what do you think?”

he turns to smile at keith, raising an eyebrow. keith returns the smile, something skittish reflecting in those hypnotic orbs known as his eyes.

“i.. think it’s badass.”

lance feels his blood boil in the pit of his stomach, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. he’s relieved to hear someone say anything other than negativity or he’s “crazy.” it ignites a spark in his veins. keith is the spark.

“that’s my boy.” lance hums, sounding crazy. but it’s okay. he’s pretty sure keith dies a little.

lance wants to go with him. he doesn’t want to go home. he doesn’t want to go with his friends. he doesn’t want to go anywhere but with a total stranger in his big ass truck. so lance does what he’s good at and talks his way into going with keith. in a short few minutes, lance is flashing his charm and charisma and climbing into the passenger seat of keith’s truck. first stop, the hospital. lance felt really bad about keith getting seriously hurt and offered to drive, but apparently there’s certain rules to driving a semi and keith couldn’t take that risk.

a quick pop by the hospital for keith’s stitches had lance happily holding keith’s (weirdly) gloved hand while an attractive male nurse fixed the wound in keith’s pretty forehead. it was interesting seeing him squirm when lance grabbed his hand, but not from the giant ass needle they put inside his head to numb the pain. lance was the one who almost hit the fucking floor! still feeling the guilt in his chest, lance used up some of his reserved charm for a certain dark haired man with magical eyes for a cute nurse at the front desk and got keith’s bill lowered to a decent price. then lance paid for it, despite keith’s protesting. it was the least he could do. he even went with keith to finish his delivery and got to see how that whole thing works.

but like all good things, their time had to come to an end. keith drove lance all the way home to his rich and snobby ass prison of a neighborhood. watching keith’s face go from neutral and nervous to awe at all of the fake ass, dusty porcelain water fountains around lance’s gated community was the funniest thing. if only keith knew the truth behind those rusty gates..

putting his truck in park, keith settles into his seat with a sigh. he reaches his hand up to his bandaged forehead and before he can scratch, lance reaches over and slaps his hand.

“no! don’t touch!” he yells. keith is caught off guard. he’s so cute. “you gotta let it heal properly.” doctors words. he’s supposed to get his stitches out in a few weeks and lance doesn’t want keith to have to go back before then.

“right.” keith replies, nodding. he’s nervous, lance notices, and can tell by the way he’s squirming and pinching at the tight leather gloves on his hands.

lance points to them. “aren’t you hot in those? it’s like eighty degrees out.”

“nah,” keith shrugs, focused on his hands. only his hands. “i pretty much lived in the desert, so im used to the heat.”

that has lance smiling for some reason. it’s such a random thing to say and yet it leaves lance wanting to know more.

“yeah,” lance shrugs, trying to hide a shit eating grin. “being used to the heat must be nice and all, considering how hot you are.” and he means it. keith is truly the hottest guy he’s seen in a while and he hopes it doesn’t weird keith out. lance cannot tell lies.

it seems to do something because keith is sitting up straighter and his exposed ear begins to change from a sparkly white to a rosy pink. lance can’t help but to smile. he’s been smiling so much all day that he’s not used to it. it’s been so long since he’s smiled genuinely and it kind of hurts. in a good way. also, just considering the day he’s had, he should be crying or screaming. he knows the second he leaves this truck, the second he leaves his gorgeous emo angel, it’s back to the real world. and the real world fucking sucks.

so he sucks up his pride and does what he’s been meaning to do all day. he lets out a shaky sigh and tries not to bite his tongue. “i apologize for being so forward but can i.. get your number?”

his heart beats like crazy. what if keith says no?? then what??

keith seems to cough a little, barely making eye contact. “m-my… number??”

lance is feeling nervous now. he nods. “yeah. like, your phone number..”

“.. why?” keith asks and lance all but melts in his seat. keith is so cute and innocent. his response should’ve scared lance to death but it only makes him smile, laughing a bit.

“so i can text you for your insurance information, duh?” he jokes, smirking as he waits for keith to laugh. but keith doesn’t. he sits there, body tensing in seconds and when lance realizes his sarcasm went over keith’s head and out the window, he rolls his eyes. “oh my god, so i can call you sometime!.. m-maybe..”

“me!? you want to call me?” keith’s eyes widen and he sounds so shocked like no one has ever asked for his number before. lance refuses to believe that.

instead, he nods and decides to be a little vulnerable, turning his body towards keith so he can see that yummy face of his. “yeah. is that.. cool?”

“yes!” keith blurts, nodding his head fast. lance really really thinks he’s so cute! “i mean.. sure.”

“cool.” lance lets out a nervous breath and bites on his lower lip. he grabs his phone and exchanges numbers with keith, going a little out of his way to get a picture of keith’s angel face as his contact photo, because there’s no way anyone would believe him when he tells them about the day he saw an actual angel. keith had the absolute nerve to try and hide that pretty face because of his patched up forehead and fucking messy hair. lance wanted to slap him. instead, he reassures him by commenting on how cute he looked and how he wanted to remember keith on this day the way he was right now.

“sexy, yet adorable.”

keith’s cheeks turned red and puffy again. fucking hell, his hotness is just a joke to him. does he even know??

when keith decided to take a picture too, lance only smiled, knowing that as long as he had keith in his eye’s view, he wouldn’t worry about how he looked. keith was the greatest thing he could look at and with a man like him, lance couldn’t bring himself to care about his own looks.

he smiled big and happy for the first time in weeks, months, because keith was staring so purely at him that it made his insides turn to mush. what a feeling. he missed feeling anything other than anger or unhappiness. keith made him feel like he could fly.

lance saved keith in his phone as the sexy yet adorable emo angel and although a long name, it suited him. he added a purple heart emoji for keith’s eyes and it was saved.

time was ticking. lance’s phone was secretly blowing up with texts from his family, from his parents, and he couldn’t hide forever. this was it. pulling his cinnamon lip balm free from his pocket, he opened keith’s gloved hand and placed the tasty balm inside and then leaned over and surprisingly kissed keith square on his cheek.

“thanks for the eventful day..”

he smiled before opening his door and hopping out of the truck with his things in hand. he walked over to the large gates of his neighborhood and put in the four digit PIN that resided with his family. as the gates opened slowly, he turned to keith, waving goodbye, before he began his walk down the hill and to the street of his parents’ home.

he thought about keith the entire way, hoping that he wasn’t too forward by asking for his number and kissing him. he needed a way to keep himself inside keith’s head so that he could see him again. he had to see him again. just thinking about it sent lance’s skin ablaze. how did his shitty day turn so lovesick puppy in the span of a few hours? how did keith do that?? lance’s stomach did that thing where it dropped to his ass and his heart sped up so fast, he felt as if he were going to pass out. his hands got sweaty again, so sweaty that he had to sling his bag over his shoulder because it was getting harder to hold. waves of uncertainty and exhilaration bounced around in his stomach and he had to put a hand over his chest to try and calm his arrhythmic heartbeat.

no.. no way? lance has to literally laugh at himself.

he can’t.. be in love with this total stranger?

can he???

to be continued..

part 1 part 3

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Made For Each Other

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician, Elvis Movie, RPF

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader

Characters: Elvis Presley, Female Reader, Gladys Presley

Word Count: 2982 // Rating: Explicit

Summary: Elvis might not be an adult just yet but he’s about to become a man

Tags/ Warnings: Young Elvis, Kissing, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Loss of Virginity, Virgin Reader, Teenage Elvis, Reader and Elvis are 17, Mentions of Purity, Purity and Virginity Culture, Religious Sentiment, Established Relationship, Mentions of Marriage, Mentions of Engagements, Promise Rings, Mentions of Infant Death, Infant Death, Infant Loss 

Notes: its elvis’ birthday so lets celebrate with some smut. 

‘Are you sure you don’t wanna stay?’ Gladys asked looking at me as she continued to wash dishes. I didn’t want to not that I wanted to tell her that. It was Elvis’ birthday and whilst I had enjoyed spending time with him and his parents over dinner I didn’t want to spend the rest of the night celebrating with them in front of the TV. I had other plans. Though I knew why she was asking. She loved her son and whilst today was about celebrating his birth it was also about remembering one of the worst days of her life so I understood why she longed to keep him close…but he was older now. He didn’t want to spend his birthdays at home with his parents.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to say anything as Elvis appeared at the door frame having apparently caught the end of our conversation and said, ‘Mama you know we’ve got plans.’ ‘Nothing special though,’ she said turning to face him. I watched as he went to her and placed his hands on either side of her face, kissing her forehead gently. ‘I promised the boys we’d see a movie,’ he said, ‘and you always taught me to be a man of my word.’ ‘I s’pose,’ she said bitterly. ‘That’s what you get for raising such a good man,’ I joked trying to alleviate some of the tension in the air. Gladys smiled softly, ‘it sure is.’

Elvis beamed a smile at both of us and then said, ‘c’mon now. I won’t be going anywhere if the pair of you keep gushing over me. My head ain’t gonna fit through the door.’ ‘Well we can’t have that now can we,’ I smiled. He kissed his mama and we said our goodbyes to her and his father and grandmother and then we headed outside to his truck. He opened the door for me, allowing me to climb inside before he shut it and made his way around to the driver’s side.

Once I was settled inside my brain started whirring. I was determined to get him out of the house tonight but I had no intentions of meeting anyone at the movie theatre. It might seem silly for me to allow him to make plans when I had no intention of fulfilling them but I needed to make sure I had a way to get him out. As he set off I turned to him. He glanced at me, smirking a little as he said, ‘what?’ ‘I have another birthday present for you,’ I said. ‘Yeah?’ he said glancing at me again before his eyes went back to the road. ‘Yeah but it’s at my house,’ I said, ‘can we go get it?’ ‘Won’t we miss the movie?’ he asked. ‘Oh it won’t take two minutes,’ I said. Elvis looked at me curiously and then nodded, flicking the indicator to turn us the opposite way back towards my house and away from the movie theatre.

We drove mostly in silence though it wasn’t uncomfortable. Elvis was humming along to the radio, tapping the steering wheel with his fingers as he followed the drum beat. I sat beside him, watching him closely, taking him in. I couldn’t believe how handsome he was. His blue eyes shined even though the only light in the cab was the occasional passing of a street lamp. His perfect angular face flowed into pert lips that curled up in a smile as he caught me watching him. ‘What?’ he said nervously, pushing his fingers through his perfect raven hair. ‘Just appreciating how handsome you are,’ I said. ‘Y/N,’ he said as a faint blush crept across his face. ‘I mean it,’ I said placing my hand on his thigh making that pale pink on his face deepen to a true crimson. ‘Well ain’t you just full of compliments tonight,’ he smiled. ‘Well it is your birthday,’ I said leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

We were near my house now and he pulled up by the kerb and hopped out so he could open my door. We walked together hand in hand, only breaking apart as I moved so I could unlock the door. Elvis was watching me curiously as we stepped over the threshold.

‘Where are your folks?’ he asked looking around the place. ‘They’re out tonight,’ I said casually beckoning him to follow me, ‘come on it's in my room.’

I took his hand and pulled him to follow me which he did, trailing behind me silently. The moment we were inside my room I shut my door and wrapped my arms around his neck, leaning up to kiss him. He seemed taken by surprise but melded into it pulling me into him. When we broke apart he looked down at me with a tender smile. ‘What was that for?’ ‘It’s part of your present,’ I said all of sudden feeling nerves bubble inside me. I knew what I wanted and I knew I wanted it tonight. I just hoped he felt the same. ‘Well now I gotta know what you’ve got me,’ he said. I nodded and bit my lip before I said, ‘Elvis I gotta tell you something.’ ‘What is it honey?’ he asked stroking my cheek. ‘I’ve decided what I wanted to give you for your birthday,’ I said, ‘...and it’s me. I wanna give you all of me.’ ‘Y-y-you mean?’ he stammered. I nodded. He seemed to contemplate what I was saying for a moment before he said, ‘baby I don’t know about this…’ ‘Don’t you want to?’ I asked suddenly feeling embarrassed. He seemed to notice my humiliation and his eyes went wide. He pulled me down to sit on the bed, sitting beside me and holding my hands in his.

‘Of course I do Satnin’,’ he said, ‘god you have no idea how much.’ ‘So why not? If you want to and I want to. And this is what I want. I promise,’ I said dropping my gaze to my lap, ‘I mean we’ve done other things.’

It was true. Elvis loved making out. Whenever we were alone it seemed like it was only a matter of time before it devolved into us kissing. And once we were in the swing of things it was like our hands had minds of their own and were destined to roam one another, like we needed to memorise how every inch of the other felt. I’d felt how hard it got him and I had felt the damp heat that arose in me whenever he touched me. He’d tried to resist but over time he’d caved and let my hand replace his as we made out. But he’d been timid to do much else to me. Like if he dared go further I’d be defiled. I’d told him it was silly. And tried to show him how much I wanted him but he always pulled away. Which was why I had chosen to tell him today what I wanted. That I wanted to give myself to him. Completely.

‘I know sweetheart and it ain’t like I don’t want to,’ he sighed, ‘but it ain’t proper…w-we sh-sh-should wait till we’re married.’ ‘But we’re gonna be married one day,’ I reasoned placing my hand on his cheek making his baby blues fall on my face, ‘I mean you promised me that. That’s what my ring is for remember?’ ‘An’ I promise I’ll upgrade it to an engagement ring just as soon as we graduate,’ he mumbled. ‘I know,’ I smiled, ‘see why I don’t see the point in waiting?’ ‘But-’ ‘Elvis I love you. I want this. Isn’t that enough?’ I said. He looked at me for a moment and I could tell he was fighting a battle I couldn’t see in his mind. I knew he loved me. And I knew that it had been taking him all he had to restrain himself. I just didn’t see the point in fighting it anymore. I knew that we were going to be married one day. So why waste all the moments we could be having together on the point of technicality? After a moment he nodded and I broke into a wide grin.

‘So,’ I said placing my hand on his thigh, ‘my parents aren’t home.’ ‘Wow you really had this all planned out huh?’ he said with a mischievous smile as he leaned in and kissed me quickly. I nodded. ‘How’d ya know I’d say yes?’ he said sceptically. ‘I know you too well,’ I said. Elvis grinned and leaned in to kiss me deeply. We sat there for a moment, making out, until finally I pulled back and stood up, turning my back to him and moving my hair off the zipper. Elvis got what I was hinting at and stood up too, pressing a kiss into the nape of my neck as his fingers pulled the zipper down and he slipped it off my shoulders, allowing it to fall in a heap on the floor. As I turned around I found him marvelling over me and standing there in just my underwear I suddenly felt self-conscious.

‘You look beautiful,’ he said, placing his finger under my chin and tilting my face to look at him. ‘So do you,’ I said fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. My fingers shook a little and he placed his hands over mine stopping me so he could take over, ‘I don’t know why I feel nervous all of a sudden.’ ‘If you wanna stop just tell me,’ he said. I shook my head vehemently. ‘No, this is what I want,’ I said sitting down on the bed. Elvis looked at me for a minute and then nodded. He stripped his shirt and pants off and then climbed on the bed in between my legs kissing me once again.

‘Well let’s just start how we normally do,’ he said kissing down my neck. I nodded, enjoying the feeling of his lips on my bare skin. My hands roamed the planes of his shoulders, knotting in the hair by the nape of his neck which made him moan. That moan sent electricity down my spine and throb arose in between my legs. My hands left his hair as if on instinct, moving him back so I could reach behind my back and undo my bra.

As I slid it down my arms Elvis’ eyes went nearly black with desire. He sat back a little marvelling at my body, his mouth agape. He was hard as a rock which made my self-consciousness disappear almost completely. ‘You’re so pretty,’ he said leaning back to kiss down my neck, caressing my chest tenderly. As his tongue swirled around my nipple I moaned, the sensation new and exciting. I could feel him against my thigh, his hips rocking against it in an attempt to create some friction, which I assume it had done because I could feel a damp patch on his underwear which matched that on my own. I reached my hand down and traced my finger across the waistband. Before I could reach inside as I had done several times before he pulled back and placed his hand over mine.

‘Not yet,’ he said continuing as he noted my confusion, ‘if we’re gonna do this we need to do this right. Let me take care of you.’ ‘Okay,’ I nodded. He moved to lay at the side of me which was quite the squeeze in my cramped single bed but I didn’t care. I watched as he trailed a finger along my jaw and down my neck and chest continuing till he got to the waistband of my panties. His finger trailed along it for a minute before he reached down further and caressed my mound feeling the damp cotton underneath his fingers.

‘Oh Elvis,’ I said feeling that familiar tingle in my core. ‘Let’s take these off baby,’ he said and I nodded shifting my hips as we each grabbed a side and slid my underwear down. Then his fingers were trailing through my folds lazily, tracing around my clit. ‘That feel good?’ he asked and I nodded. He looked up at me and I kissed him trying to pour all the love I was feeling at that moment into it. He carried on working in his own rhythm as my excitement built. I’d heard about this. My schooling hadn’t exactly covered all the things I needed but I had heard more than enough stories from my girlfriends to know what would happen. Just as that feeling started to get more intense Elvis kissed my neck edging it on further. Then his finger teased around my opening making me gasp.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked panicked as my eyes flew open. ‘Yeah, just took me by surprise that’s all,’ I said placing my hand on his cheek to ease his panic. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘it’s just…ya gotta be ready y’know if we’re gonna-’ ‘No, no, it’s fine,’ I said. He was right. I could see the outline of his erection straining against his underwear and there was no way I’d be able to take him as is. Not only was he long he was thick as hell. ‘I’ll go slow, okay?’ he said. ‘Okay,’ I nodded. He reintroduced his fingers to my hole and inserted it gently as his thumb played with my clit. As he went a little further I groaned. ‘Does that feel good baby?’ he said starting to move in and out of me. ‘So good,’ I mumbled, ‘keep goin’.’ ‘Yes mama,’ he said as he inserted another finger. He was working at a pace now, teasing my clit with his thumb as he pumped in and out of me. I could feel my climax coming.

‘Something’s happening,’ I said as that excitement climbed. ‘It’s natural. All you gotta do is just let it happen, baby,’ he said and I nodded. Determined not to get self-conscious by having him watch me I grabbed his face and pulled it to mine so I could kiss him. Our lips had barely met before I was moaning against them, my walls fluttering around his fingers as a wave of pleasure ran through me leaving a trail of weakness in its wake. When he removed his fingers from me I opened my eyes and found him watching me with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

‘That was amazing,’ I whispered breathily my brain foggy with pure pleasure. ‘Glad I could make you feel good baby,’ he said placing his forehead against mine and kissing me chastely, ‘are you sure you wanna do this?’ ‘I’m sure,’ I said kissing him again. Elvis nodded and pulled back clambering off the bed so he could take his underwear off. When he got back on the bed he knelt between my legs, pushing them open wide so he could fit. He leaned back to kiss me and I wrapped my arms around his neck. When we broke apart I put my hand on his chest and whispered, ‘just go slow okay? You’re a lil bigger than your fingers.’

Elvis smiled shyly. He pulled back and rested on his knees teasing his cock with his hand so he was full to attention. Then he moved so he was stationed at my entrance, looking at me for permission. I nodded and watch as he pushed forward, easing into me. It stung, as my body was not used to how big he was, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. He continued groaning as he pushed in until he was bottomed out inside me.

He rested above me looking at me with complete adoration as I traced my finger along his face.

‘You okay Satnin?’ he asked. ‘I’m good,’ I said, ‘you?’ ‘Better than okay,’ he said, ‘it’s like you were made for me.’ ‘Made for each other,’ I corrected. He nodded and started to move his hips thrusting in and out of me slowly and gentle. The more he moved the better it started to feel. As I moved to wrap my legs around him he groaned, falling into my neck, his breath hot and wet against it. ‘Oh Y/N,’ he moaned. ‘Keep going,’ I said kissing his forehead as he started to pick up speed.

As he continued my eyes roved over every inch of him determined to commit this image of him to memory. This was what I wanted. To be together. Completely buried in each other, conjoined by love and lust. I wanted to make him feel as good as I could and from the way his hips stuttered and his groans became more regular I figured I was. ‘Fuck Y/N,’ he grunted, ‘I ain’t gonna last.’ ‘Elvis,’ I whispered making him look at me, ‘we need to be careful.’

He looked confused for a second and then nodded. He seemed to be waiting until he was at breaking point before he pulled out of me, spurting hot ropes of cum across my stomach before he fell down beside me panting, his body half draped along me, creating a sticky mess between our bare skin. We lay there for a moment, Elvis coming down from his high as I ran my fingers through his hair, his head on my shoulder.

‘I love you,’ he mumbled as his breath finally evened out. ‘I love you too,’ I whispered watching as he looked up at me. ‘I’m glad we did this,’ he said, ‘you were right.’ ‘I always am,’ I giggled making him laugh. ‘Don’t I know it,’ he said falling silent for a beat before he said, ‘I mean it though. This was the best birthday gift I could’ve gotten.’ ‘I’m glad. That’s all I wanted. Just you and me together. Completely.’ ‘That’s what I want too,’ he said, ‘me and you forever Satnin.’ ‘Forever.’

[nadal-designer]

[alaydabug2]

Tag list: @sparklenarniawizard @imobsessed123 @thoughtlescat @ilikebookssomuch

Broken Heart/Broken Mind

Chapter Forty

(Human AU)

Sophie and Keefe met in the children's hospital when they were little. Because of how long they were confined to the four walls of the hospital, they became very close during their stay.

As the years pass, they wind up being in the same classroom together due to their physical conditions. This makes their bond deepen.

But are they able to handle when life gets tough, throwing problems and complications their way?

A horn honked in front of the house. Sophie went to go investigate why a gray truck had been outside for the last five minutes. On the way out, she grabbed the baseball bat by the door, just in case.

She peered out the door. The horn started honking again. She sighed in relief when she saw who was in the driver's seat.

Keefe rolled down the window. "Hey, Foster! Guess what I got for my birthday!"

"No way!" She ran down the steps and up to the window. "Your parents got you a car?"

He snorted. "No, Ro did. Remember, she's richy rich, now."

"That is awesome!"

"Wanna ride around?"

"Uh, yeah!"

She ran inside to go tell her parents, then jumped into the truck.

They rode around the neighborhood a couple of times. When they drove by the grumpy old man's house, Keefe blasted the music.

Mr. Forkle came out of his house, yelling at them to shut up. Keefe stopped and turned up the music so loud, Sophie thought her eardrums might burst. The bass rattled her teeth.

The next go around, Mr. Forkle was waiting for them. He got up out of hus rocking chair and aimed his BB gun. Before he could pull the trigger, Keefe sped off.

Sophie couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, he is going to murder you if he gets his hands on you."

He smirked. "Good thing he won't."

She shook her head. "You're awful."

"I try."

They steered into Sophie's driveway.

"After the game Friday," Keefe began, "We're gonna go to Ruby Tuesdays. It's going to be for our championship and for my birthday. Do you wanna come?"

Sophie grinned. "I'd love to."

Sophie fiddled with the ribbon of Keefe's present. She really wanted him to like it, she just didn't know if she should in front of the entire team.

At the table, Fitz ended up telling the waitor that they were celebrating Keefe's birthday.

"Aw, come on," Keefe complained. "You know how embarrassing that is."

Fitz raised an eyebrow. "Then where was that courtesy when it was my birthday?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Touche."

A couple of times, Sophie nearly slid him his gift. But every time, she held back. She knew how big of a deal it would be for him. She wasn't sure how he'd react if it was in front of his friends.

Finally, when it was time for everyone to go, she pulled him aside.

"Hey," she murmured. "I got you something." She held it out to him.

"Oh," Keefe took it from her. "Thank you."

He slowly unraveled the ribbon. When he tore the paper off, he gasped.

It was a green sketch book, covered in little swirled engravings. There was also a set of colored pencils and watercolor paints.

"I've seen your art," she explained. "And I know how much you enjoy it. But whenever I've seen you draw, it's always in crayons and pens. So I figured you'd like something a bit more professional. Do you like it?"

Her awnser was the wind being knocked out over her from Keefe's crushing embrace.

"I love it, Sophie!" He pulled back to reveal his slightly teary eyes. He leaned down to kiss her, palm lingering on her cheek when he pulled back. "It's fantastic."

Sophie giggled.

[supernaturalgirl20]

The Way Back to You

Part 3

Pairings: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), semi public sex, a lot of angst, fluff, cursing, infidelity, mention of miscarriage, enlisting.

Summary: You find yourself back in your hometown after almost ten years. The one place you swore you’d never come back to. Now, back for your brothers wedding, you have to face your past, along with the man whose always had your heart. Can you have a second chance at forever?

Part 2

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

Quickly changing you decide to wear one of your floral summer dresses and a denim jacket. When you finally make your way downstairs, Frankie stares at you wide eyed before crabbing his keys and heading for the door. “Come on, shortcake. Wanna get there early.”

You smile when you see his beat up red truck parked outside. “I can’t believe she’s still on the go,” You say as you approach Frankie, his hand reaching out to help you into the passenger side. “Yeah she’s still going strong.” He closes the door once your inside and runs around to the driver side and hops in.

You laugh as you take in the line of hats on the dash and Frankie smiles over at you with a questioning look. “What’s so funny?”

“You really do love your hats. I mean how old are some of these?”

He’s smiling at you, his face tinged red in embarrassment. “Yeah uh, I guess I don’t like throwing them out. This one’s still my favourite though,” he says tilting his head upward and your eyes follow to find the hat you bought him for his birthday one year sitting atop his head. How did I not notice?

“You still have it?”

“Yeah. Best damn present I ever got.”

You snort, “oh come on, it can’t be.”

“Swear on my life, baby.” He’s quiet then realising what he said and he averts his gaze towards the road finally starting the truck up. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine Frankie, honestly. Slip of the tongue.” The rest of the drive you both sit in an awkward silence until you spot the market. Thank god

“Does nothing change in this place?”

“Hmm?”

“All the stalls are exactly the same. Even run by some of the same people. It’s like stepping back in time.”

“Yeah. Mrs Rogers still asks about you.”

“She’s still alive? Is she here today? Can we go see her?”

Frankie smiles down at you and nods his head as he moves you forward through the crowd, his hand resting on your lower back. “Come on, let’s go say hi.”

Frankie watches as you greet the older woman and he can’t help the way his heart swells. Everyone always falls in love with you. It’s who you are. Kind. The sound of a child laughing breaks him from his daze and he looks up to find you bent down talking to Sally – Mrs Rogers granddaughter.

His air is punched from his lungs and he swears his heart has stopped beating. He’s instantly transported back in time to that night and his gut twists itself into a knot.

***

10 years earlier..

He burst in your bedroom door searching frantically until he hears quiet sobs coming from your bathroom. When he opens the door, he finds you on the floor, back against the bath as you cry uncontrollably.

He immediately sinks to the floor beside you and pulls you into him. “Shh, baby, it’s alright. What’s wrong? What happened?”

You’d called him crying telling him to come over straight away and he dropped what he was doing and hopped in his truck to rush over here. He’s worried. He’s never seen you like this before and all he wants to do is take away the pain. To carry whatever burden you have.

“I…Frankie we…”

“Hey, hey…take a deep breath baby ok.” He cups your cheeks and wipes your tears with his thumbs as he tilts your head up so he can see you properly. “Tell me what’s wrong. You’re scaring me.”

You sob again and instead of saying anything you lift your hand towards him and show him the object in your hand. A white stick and he’s a little confused at first until it all clicks. “Is that….is that a pregnancy test?”

You nod your head and meet his gaze but his eyes are blown wide in shock. He gulps loudly and his eyes flicker from you to the test and then he takes it from your hand and stares down at it. “There’s two lines. What….what does that mean?”

“It means I’m pregnant.”

“Pregnant,” he whispers as his eyes stare at the two lines. He doesn’t move until you sob loudly again and then he’s throwing the test into the floor and holding you close. “Hey, baby it’s ok. I’m not going anywhere, ok?”

“What are we gonna do?”

“Whatever you wanna do baby. If you want to get rid of it, I’ll bring you myself and be there the whole time. If you wanna keep it, then I’m gonna step up and be a father to our kid.”

“I don’t know Frankie. I had plans. We had plans and now..”

“Hey. We can still do all those things. Maybe a little differently but we can still do them.”

“What do you want though?”

“Honestly?”

You nod your head up at him and you take in a ragged breath. “I wanna have this baby with you. You are it for me, Y/N, and yeah this isn’t what we planned but I want this with you.”

“I think I need a little time. I don’t know what I want.”

“We’ve got time baby. It’s gonna be ok.”

***

Present….

Frankie can feel the tears building and quickly blinks them away before slowly approaching you. “Hey Mrs Rogers.”

“Now how many times have I got to tell you, call me Margaret.”

“At least another ten.” She smiles at him with this sparkle in her eyes as she raises an eyebrow and tilts her head towards you. Frankie clears his throat and you turn to face him.

“Hey, sorry I was just talking to this lil cutie.”

“Hi Frankie,” Sally says before rushing to give him a hug. “Hey squirt. How’d that project go?”

“It was so good. Ms Thompson said I had one of the best in class and I got put forward for the science fair. I’m so excited. Thank you so much for helping me.”

“It was no trouble and if you need any more help you just get your grandma to give me a call ok?”

“Ok. Is this your girlfriend Frankie?” She’s smiling up at him and then looking between you both. Frankie can feel the nerves coursing through him and he reaches behind his head to scratch the back of his neck.

“I used to be,” you say smiling down at her but your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Oh! This is her,” Sally says all excited and he can feel your gaze fixed on him but thankfully Mrs Rogers breaks the awkwardness. “Now Sally will you leave these two alone. Come on now, we have loads to do.”

“It was lovely seeing you again, Mrs Rogers.”

“You too dear and don’t be a stranger.”

You both continue walking around the stalls, trying some samples and then you turn to him with a guilty look on your face. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Back then. I…you would have made a great dad Frankie and I’m sorry I took that away from you.”

His heart clenches and he stops abruptly turning to you and running his hands along your arms. “Do not apologise. I’m the one who needs to say sorry. What I said….I never meant any of it. I was just so….I just really wanted to have a baby with you. Buy a house. Get married and I wanted it so bad I pushed you into keeping it when I knew deep down you didn’t want that.”

“I had all these plans and I was so unsure about the baby and then I saw the way you were so excited and I didn’t want to take that away from you. But I just wanted to leave this town so bad and then we had that fight and I was so angry at you. I felt like you trying to trap me here.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I know.”

“I would have followed you anywhere.”

“I know but I wasn’t thinking clearly back then. And then I misscarried and you got so angry.”

“I never blamed you. Not really. I was just so upset and what I said that night…I’m gonna regret it for the rest of my life. I’m so sorry, Y/N. Will you ever forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive Frankie. We both said things we didn’t mean.”

He moves a strand of hair from your face and he begins to lean in when drops of water hit his face. “Shit it’s gonna rain.”

You both start to make your way back to his truck when the rain pours from the heavens completely drowning you both.

***

By the time you make it to his truck you’re both soaked to the bone and laughing so hard you’re stomach hurts. You look over at him as he leans back against the seat laughing – his hand on his stomach and that dimple on full display, and you all you wanna do is kiss him.

Before you can second guess yourself you lean over and kiss him passionately. He doesn’t move and that seed of doubt creeps into your head and as you begin to pull away he wraps his arm around you pulling you closer. His lips finally move against yours and when he runs his tongue along your bottom lips you moan into his mouth.

You move over to him completely straddling his thighs and his hands grip your hips tight as you begin grind against him.

“Hey…I don’t…” he says breathlessly as he pulls away slightly. It’s like a punch in the gut when you think he doesn’t want this but Frankie quiets the voices in your head when he runs his thumb along your chin. “Hey…I really want this believe me, I’ve thought about this since you came back but I don’t want you to feel you have to. Or that this is what I was looking for..”

“I know it’s not. Frankie I need you. I wanna feel you, please.”

“Ok. Let me just get us back to mine.”

“No can’t wait, please.” You grind against his growing bulge and he groans loudly as he closes his eyes, his fingers digging into your hips. “What if someone sees?”

“Don’t care..” you say as you fumble with his belt. He takes a quick glance around and when he sees that there isn’t anyone around he starts to lift his hips a little to help you free his aching cock.

Grabbing him in hand you pump him a few times before moving your underwear to the side and sinking onto him. You both groan as he fills you completely. “Oh fuck,” you cry as you begin to work your hips over him.

“Mierda! So good baby…Jesus I forgot how tight you are….not gonna last…ooh it’s like coming home.”

It’s hot and frantic and his hands are grabbing at your ass as you grind on top of him. You can feel that heat building as you move faster above him, the truck rocking with your movements.

“Oh Frankie…oh fuck….I’m gonna….oh god…”

“That’s it baby, come for me…let go I got you.”

His name falls from your lips in a soft cry as you come, your walls fluttering around him. Frankie thrusts up as he seeks his own release and when he tries to lift you off you onky grind down on him harder.

“Y/N…I’m gonna…please, no condom…”

“I don’t care…I want you to come inside me.” When he sees only truth in your gaze his finishes with a grunt as he spills inside you coating your walls with his hot come.

His breathing is ragged as he stares up at you, a sex induced smile on his face. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Frankie.”

“As much as I wanna stay like this, my back is gonna give out .”

“Shit sorry.” You move off him and fix your dress. “I suppose we better go before someone sees us.”

“Wanna grab something to eat and head back to mine?”

“I’d like that. Where to?”

“Lola’s diner?” You both say at the same time. You laugh as Frankie fixes himself and then starts the truck. “Just like old times.”

Part 4

Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny @littlemisspascal @icanbeyourjedi @thatpinkshirt @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @athalien @its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso @doommommy @browneyes-issac @trickstersp8 @nembees @kaitieskidmore1 @mswarriorbabe80 @allthe-ships @tintinn16 @rosie-posie08 @manuymesut @all-the-way-down-here @iccedays @hungrhay @tusk89

[atlasdoe]

Hello my name is Ace and i'm back on my lab rats bullshit so i'm rewatching the entire show

i've been trying to sort out all of the characters ages in my head since the dawn of time so im using this rewatch as an opportunity to keep record of all the times the characters mention their ages or time as a whole

also i would like to make it known that i have no idea how American schools work

also also I know that this is a kids show and I knew that the timeline had issues way before I started this but it was a fun thing to keep track of as I watched and now I have this information and I have no idea what to do with it so enjoy i guess

Lab Rats

Season 1, Episode 1: Crush, Chop and Burn Part 1

- All of the siblings attend High School meaning that they are from the ages of 13 - 18

- All of the siblings attend the same gym class

Season 1, Episode 8: Bionic Birthday Fail

- It's Leos 14th birthday

- Donald says that he's 38

this particular episode first aired on May the 7th so this could be Leo's date of birth but it's never said what the day is in the episode

also side note but it is cannon that Davenport did not celebrate Adam Bree and Chases birthdays up until this point. Also they don't know who Santa is but do celebrate Christmas with presents and decorations the same as seen in episode 3

Season 1, Episode 14: Chore Wars

- Chase says that 2009 was 3 years ago making the year this episode takes place 2012

Season 1, Episode 15: Dude, Wheres My Lab

- It's summer vacation meaning that it takes place during the months of May, June, July or August

Season 1, Episode 16: Air Leo

- Leo says that he's 14

- The episode takes place in the school meaning that if it was summer vacation in the last episode then it's a new school year in this one. American school years start in either late August or early September

Season 1, Episode 17: Night of the Living Virus

this isn't really anything but it was very obvious to me that this episode was shot before the others. Not only does Chase have his old haircut that he had for the first few episode but the sofa has the old throw pillows that they changed at the end of the second episode. Idk what this means for the timeline of when this episode took place (i believe it's a halloween episode as it aired in October) so idk if this episode is supposed to take place before the other episodes or if the producers just didn't care enough to care about the changes

- Caitlin is at least 16 years old in this episode as they mention her sweet 16

Season 1, Episode 20: Mission Space

- Leo says that Marcus is a Sagittarius

- Bree says that she's also a Sagittarius

Sagittarius have their birthdays between November 22nd and December 21st

Season 2, Episode 1: Speed Trapped

- Leo says he's 14

Season 2, Episode 2: Spy Fly

- Leo says that Davenport is almost 40

- It appears that Adam and Chase are in the same health class since they have the same assighment

- Bree and Leo are both doing the same physics test in the same class

Season 2, Episode 9: Spikes Got Talent

- At the beginning of the episode the siblings talk about the yearbook and about how everyone got a most likely to apart from Chase. This indicates that the yearbooks have just been handed out. When yearbooks come out depends on the school but it's mostly near the end of the school year

Season 2, Episode 12: Trucked Out

- Adam gets his drivers license meaning that he is at least 16 years old

Considering he passed on his first test and Bree, Chase and Leo don't have their licenses we can safely assume that Bree, Chase and Leo are all under the age of 16 in this episode

Season 2, Episode 15: Bionic Showdown Part 2

- Marcus is under the age of 16

Season 2, Episode 16: Memory Wipe

- The siblings erase 24 years of Donalds memory making him think that he's 15. Meaning that in this episode he would've been 39

Season 2, Episode 19: Llama Drama

- It's leading up to the homecoming game. Homecoming usually takes place in late September or early October meaning that it is probably a new school year

Season 2, Episode 20: The Haunting of Mission Creek High

- It's the homecoming dance meaning that it's still late September/early October

Season 2, Episode 21: Perry 2.0

- Adam and Bree seem to have gym class together but they're literally in gym for the entire episode apart from a small scene where they're at lunch so that might've been some special type of sport day or something like that

Season 2, Episode 23: Prank You Very Much

- It's been 150 days since Janelle and Leo first spoke to each other. Janelles first appearance in the show was Season 1 Episode 10: Can I Borrow the Helicopter? meaning that it (should) have been no more then 150 days since that episode. Though this doesn't make much sense since some of the most recent episodes revolves around homecoming which starts at the beginning of the school year and we already had a summer vacation episode last season and there is no way that everyone from "Dude Where's My Lab?" and "Llama Drama" happened within a month

Season 2, Episode 24: 'Twas the Mission Before Christmas

- It's Christmas Eve

- Tasha says that it's their first Christmas together but again like i just said this makes no sense since at least one christmas should've passed

- Bree says that Davenport Industry's have been risking the fate of mankind since 1992. If she hasn't made this year up then that means that if Donald is 39 in this episode and this episode takes place in 2012 like they're suggesting (even tho the episode came out in 2013. If this is their first christmas together it should be 2012) then Davenport Industry's started 20 years ago when Donald was 19

- Chase says that he is 15

Season 2, Episode 25: Trent Gets Schooled

- Part of this episode revolves around taking pictures for the Yearbook. Since Bree mentions her photo from the previous year and yearbook photos were mentioned in Spikes Got Talent this means that the siblings have DEFINITELY been going to school for longer then a year

- Leo and Trent both say that it's not football season. Football season is usually late August/early September to mid/late October meaning that it is not during this time in the episode

- Trent does a test in this episode and after passing he graduates immediately and then becomes the coach. Idk if it's possible for Trent to just immediately graduate at a random point in the school year or if this had to have taken place during the end of the school year

Season 3, Episode 5: Zip It

- Bree, Chase and Caitlin all get a part time job in this episode. In California you have to be at least 14 to work so this doesn't tell us anything about how old they are considering we know that Chase is at least 15 but I'm keeping it in anyway

Season 3, Episode 7: Scramble the Orbs

- Leo, Adam and Janelle have a gym class together

Season 3, Episode 9: Taken

- Douglas is at least 40 years old as he shows Leo a video from his 40th birthday party. This means that Donald has to be over the age of 40

Season 3, Episode 10: Three Minus Bree

- Eddy says that Leo is 16 years old

Season 3, Episode 12: Cyborg Shark Attack

- It's summer as said by Perry and indicated in what the characters are wearing but the school is still open meaning it might be around May - June

Season 3, Episode 13: You Posted What!?! Part 1

- Donald says that he's had Adam Bree and Chase for 16 years meaning that they are all at least 16 years old

Season 3, Episode 14: You Posted What!?! Part 2

- Donald says that he's 43

Season 3, Episode 15: Armed and Dangerous

- Donald says that he and the trio have had 16 years of training

Season 3, Episode 17: Brother Battle

- Bree mentions working a 12 hour shift at Tech Town. According to Google people under the age of 18 can be asked to work for longer then 8 hours a day in exceptional circumstances. They can ask only if no one who's over the age of 18 is available to do the work

Season 3, Episode 20: Merry Glichmas

- It's Christmas

- Leo says he's 16

- In the last Christmas episode Chase says that he's 15 meaning that for this Christmas Chase has to be at least 16. Since Leo says that he's 16 and it's could either be that Chase is only a few months older then Leo or that this episode takes place two years after the last Christmas episode and Chase is 17

Season 3, Episode 22: The Rise Of The Secret Soldiers Part 2

- It's given off that Krane began raising the secret soldiers since they were babies behind Douglas back as Douglas says that he had a tone of baby pictures meaning that Douglas and Krane must've been working together for at least 16 years

Season 3, Episode 23: Bionic House Party

- Bree mentions that some of the soldiers used her prom dress for target practice giving the impression that Bree has either already attended prom or was planning to soon. Since Bree is never seen with a stable boyfriend throughout the show it's likely that this was for her own prom. Students who attend prom are the senior class who are aged 17/18 years old. (i just wrote this and played the episodes only for Chase to say that the odds of her using it were very slim. Idk why Bree would have a prom dress if she never intends to go to prom but this could likely mean that she's a senior at the moment and already brought her dress before asking anyone to be her date) (idk use your imagination)

- Leo says that Donald is way older then he claims to be, giving the impression that throughout the show Leo has thought that Donald was younger then he really is because Donald keeps lying about his age. So far Donald has mentioned himself being 43. This would make somewhat sense if it wasn't for the memory wipe episode

- Bree says that Leo found them five friends in three years indicating that the first episode took place 3 years ago and if that episode took place in 2012 then it is currently 2015

Season 3, Episode 24: First Day Of Bionic Academy

- Bree says that she's still waiting on her sweet sixteen party meaning that Bree is at least 16 years old

- Leo has had his bionics for six months meaning it's been six months since the episode You Posted What!?! took place

- Bree mentions how she got stood up by a boy on prom night. this might be calling back to her unused prom dress

Season 4, Episode 4: Under Siege

- Leo refers to the time where Bree and Chase were looking after Kerry (Perrys niece) in the season 2 episode 18: Adam Up as "last year".

- Adam says that Leo is 16 years old

Season 4, Episode 6: Mission Mania

- Leo says he's been going on missions for over a month. His first mission would've been sometime after Rise of the Secret Soldiers

Season 4, Episode 8: Forbidden Hero

- Bree says that she has matured since high school giving off the impression that she did graduate. But it's noteworthy that none of the siblings go to school anymore and with Leo's last confirmed age being 16 he and maybe Chase should at least still be going. I can understand Chase no longer attending because there isn't much for school to teach him and he could've easily graduated early but it's odd for Leo to have just stopped especially since Tasha seems like the kind of mother to put Leos education over his bionic life. Also the last episode where we see the siblings attending school was Season 3, Episode 19: Face Off. In this episode all of the siblings were attending school. The show has never been accurate or cared about the characters ages when it comes to school and what classes they're attending so idk why i keep expecting them to subtly have Adam no longer be a student anymore or something but it was worth a try. Either way i think it's fair to say that school is giving us nothing in terms of finding out how old these characters are supposed to be.

- Also since i'm pretty sure that this is Caitlins last appearance in the show i'll mention now that she should be at least 19 years old since the Season One episode: Night Of The Living Virus mentions her sweet sixteen and with season one taking place in 2012 and this episode taking place in 2015 at the earliest, Caitlin should be at least 19. Although with that being said she was seen in Season 3 Episode 16: Alien Gladiators in school which she should've graduated by then. Again, the school setting seems to be ruining everything for me right now

Season 4, Episode 12: Space Elevator

- Chase says that their bionic secret has been out for a year meaning that it has been at least a year since Season 3 Episode 13/14: You Posted What!?! and it's been at least six months since the Bionic Academy opened

- Chase says that he went to High School for a year an a half meaning that everything that happened between the Season One, Episode One and Season Three Episode Nineteen happened within a year and a half (seems unlikely but okay)

Season 4, Episode 13: Bionic Action Hero Part 1

- Despite the fact that Leo moved up two colours in the last episode he's back to wearing the yellow shirt in this one meaning that this episode could've taken place before the last one but chances are the writers just don't care

Season 4, Episode 15: One Of Us

- We don't see Leo in his uniform in this episode but looking at the extras nobody is wearing the yellow shirt. In Season 2, Episode 12: Space Elevator all of the students moved up a colour and Leo two colours meaning that this episode takes place after the Space Elevator one definitely

- Bree says that she has 30 more years of being really cute. idk what this could tell us about her age currently but i'm taking what i can get

Season 4, Episode 18: The Curse of the Screaming Skull

- It's their first halloween at the Academy

Season 4, Episode 19: On The Edge Part 1

- Leo says that Chase named himself mission leader when he was 14 and Chase corrects him and says that he was 12. This could indicate that the trios first mission was when Chase was 14 and that's why Leo thought he named himself leader then

Season 4, Episode 20: On The Edge Part 2

- It's been two weeks since the last episode

Season 4, Episode 22: And Then There Were Four

- In the episode On The Edge, Leo becomes a mentor but for this episode he is back in his students uniform for whatever reason meaning that this episode could've taken place before On The Edge

- Douglas says that Daniel was just a baby the day that Donald took Adam Bree and Chase from him meaning that when Donald took the kids Daniel already existed

- Daniel is thirteen in this episode WHICH MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE. Donald said in You Posted What!?! that he had Adam Bree and Chase for 16 years. this episode takes place at least a year after that one meaning that it should've been no less then 17 years since Donald took Adam Bree and Chase in. If Daniel already existed when Donald did this (which he did) then he should be at least 17 years old

- Bree refers to her, Adam and Chase as teenagers so they all had to have been under the age of 19 and since it was said before that Donald must've had the trio for 17 years at this point their ages should be Adam: 19 Bree: 18 and Chase: 17

- It's said that the siblings threw Chase a 16th birthday party without inviting Chase (ouch) meaning that Chase is at least 16 years old

Season 4, Episode 23: Space Colony Part 1

- Perry says that she snuck up to space with the rest of the colonists when they were sent up. The colonists have been in space for almost a month and Perrys most recent appearance was in Season 4, Episode 21: Ultimate Tailgate Challenge, meaning that it has been at least a month since that episode took place

Season 4, Episode 25: The Vanishing Part 1

- Leo is back in his mentor outfit

- Bree says that she's a teenager and doesn't even have her drivers licence yet but there's no way i'm believing that she's under the age of 16 so i'm just gonna guess that she didn't have a chance to take any tests yet

Lab Rats Elite Force

Season 1, Episode 1: The Rise Of Five

- Donald says that he used to play in the subway 40 years ago. imma say that this means that he's at least 45 years old

Season 1, Episode 3: Power Play

- Bree says that there's three teenage boys living in the penthouse meaning that Chase, Kaz and Olivier are all still teenagers

Season 1, Episode 8: Coming Through in the Clutch

- The episode is focused on an Olympic send off event where fans can go and meet Olympians before they go to the Olympic games in Rio. They mention the Olympics being the ones held in Rio multiple times throughout the episode. The Rio Olympics were held in 2016 meaning that this episode takes place sometime in the summer of 2016 making this 4 years after the first episode of Lab Rats

- Bob says that he's 14 now meaning that he wasn't during season 4 of Lab Rats

Season 1, Episode 9: The Intruder

- Aj is 10 years old

- Chase says that his birthday is August 5th

Season 1, Episode 13: Sheep-Shifting

- It's Halloween and is implied to be the Elite Forces first Halloween together

- Bree says that she's 17 (idk how)

Season 1, Episode 15: They Grow Up So Fast

- Tasha visits in this episode with Naomi. During the Season 4 finale Tasha tells the family that she's pregnant and that it's a girl. The earliest you have to be to find out the sex of your baby is around 14 weeks but Doctors generally recommend waiting until 19-20 weeks (around 4 months.) Tasha does not seem to be showing at all during the season 4 finale (probably because the actress Angel wasn't pregnant and they didn't see the need to have her wear some kind of fake bump or anything since she wasn't so far in) and you start showing around 16-20 weeks leading me to believe that she was around 14-16 weeks pregnant at the time which is around 3 months meaning that Tasha had around 6 months until Naomi was born. Tasha says that she "hasn't had a moment to herself in 11 months meaning that Naomi is 11 months old in this episode. meaning that it's been around 17 months (a year and 5 months) since Lab Rats ended

- Namoi being 11 months old means that it must've been at least that long since the Elite Force was brought together as during Season 1, Episode 5: Need For Speed Douglas says that Donald isn't with the Elite Force because he wanted to be with Tasha when the baby arrived and during Season 1, Episode 7: The List Donald send the Elite Force a box of their old things as he was turning the lab into a nursery for the new baby. Although they never say if Naomi had been born yet.

Notes

I originally had the idea of making some form of a timeline of events to try to get something out of all of this but I literally did not have enough brain cells to do so. If you want to feel free though

I don't know why I did this. For some reason I just find this fun but I'm sure that we can all agree that this timeline is fucked and makes no sense whatsoever.

Anyways... i hope you got something out of reading all of this if you did *thumbs up emoji*

[ohdeathz]

❛ everyone's luck runs out eventually. ❜

i see you meet william “sully” sullivan, huh? they are around for… well, it will be seven years, now. time flies when you are busy and as part of the hunters, they are. if you want to meet them, they live in h3a, i think. people say they are organized + patient, but don’t piss them off, okay? because they can be also petty + grumpy, so be safe.

pinterest board

connection ideas

content warning for brief mentions of suicide

basics;

faceclaim. jeffrey dean morgan

name. william lee sullivan

preferred nickname. sully

age. 57

gender, pronouns. cis man, he/him

sexuality. heterosexual

occupation. hunter pre-apocalypse occupation. truck driver

preferred weapon. tactical shotgun

lore;

PRE-APOCALYPSE—

› the sullivan's were poor growing up. sully didn't get much in his adolescence and when he did, it was for his birthday or for christmas. by the time he was thirteen, he had gotten used to never getting his way or what he wanted.

› sully never ended up going to college but rather started out as a laborer and then got a job as a truck driver and has been with the same company ever since.

› he honestly can't complain about life. by the time the outbreak happened, sully had no family left which meant that he had no reason to go back to his hometown (he had been on the road, doing a delivery, when he had his first encounter with a zombie).

POST-APOCALYPSE—

› sully started out with a group of four or five other lonely survivors who were also trying to make it on their own until realizing that it would be easier with others. that particular group ran for about two years before they started dying off like dominos: once one died, the others followed not long after. sully got incredibly sick but was the only one who survived. turned out to be a suicide-murder attempt by one of them.

› within a four year period, he found himself in two other groups that tried to make it but ended up failing. after being alone for some time after that, he stumbled upon domus spei.. but not in the condition you might think.

› shortly before finding the front gates, sully had been fighting for his life. a hostile group of men had robbed him and left him for dead and unfortunately for him, they had made an awful lot of noise.

› in the horrible condition he was in, sully hardly wanted to stay long enough to get patched up. he just wanted to get in and out.. but then a pretty black haired woman, charlie, talked to him. and suddenly his opinion changed. sully decided to stay.

› long story short, over the course of seven years, he fell in love, got married and had twins with charlie. he thanks his lucky stars every single day that that group beat him up and that he found this community..

PRESENT DAY / TIDBITS—

› a little over a week ago, she went on a "quick in-and-out" solo supply run and never came back. he believes her to be dead and is having a really hard time dealing with his grief (especially considering how young their twins, maddy and dakota, are).

› after his wife went missing, sully doesn't talk nearly as much. most of the time, he'll only talk if he's approached first, he won't go out of his way to start a conversation with someone. he feels extremely conflicted with all of the different emotions he feels. love for his family, joy for his children, grief for his wife.. it's all too much.

› currently taking it one day at a time. sometimes even that is too much; some days he takes it one minute at a time..

› he goes by "sully" because that's what charlie started calling him. eventually he decided to introduce himself as sully as the rest is history.