#any show that makes me get a map out to watch it is fucking sick

[omgthisisnotmyrealaccount]

finally watched season 2 of shadow and bone and like the issue with that show (outside of the bad acting lmao) is that the plot happens in one story line but the fun happens in the other 

like alina babes i don’t care about your search for the hot bird im sorry

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man Part 6

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie. (1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9)

Chapter Summary: What DID he mean by five? The second meeting.

5.1k words

A/N: How are we feeling in a post-"Flight of Icarus" world, y'all? I knew from the beginning that I'd want to add some of the lore in and let me tell you, I LOVE Ronnie Ecker. For those of you who did not read the book, or haven't had a chance to, Ronnie is Eddie's best friend who ended up with a full scholarship to NYU. They're siblings, your honor.

Also if anyone can show me on this map where the plot is going, I'd really appreciate it.

This late at night, the only sounds in the trailer park came from the occasional dog barking and the echoes of Eddie’s tapes blasting as he pulled up to Wayne’s trailer. His uncle was working tonight as usual, which would normally allow Eddie time to hog the tv before passing out for a few precious hours before he had to get up for school. 

Tonight however, his mind was buzzing with what had just happened less than an hour ago. He liked you, he wasn’t sure how much yet but he did. You were sharp and knew your stuff about metal. It helped that you were cute. Really cute. 

He liked seeing you in the passenger seat of his car, matching wits with his friends and ranting about Ozzy. He liked seeing you laughing and the way you watched him play. He really liked the way you had fiddled with the pick he’d thrown at you at the end of the set. 

Eddie had never done that before. He’d wanted to, but never had anyone’s attention like that before- no. That wasn’t true. There had been one other person who’d listened to him play like that, two years ago. 

Was he always gonna fold to the site of a pretty girl actually paying attention to his music? 

“Of course you are.” Ronnie’s voice echoed on the phone. “And I’m gonna laugh every time you do.” 

Eddie groaned, holding the receiver to his ear as his forehead pressed against the front of the fridge. He hadn’t planned on running to her with this, but he was nowhere near able to wind down. He hadn’t even expected Ronnie to pick up the phone this late at night with the time zone difference and the fact that it was a school night. He’d have to push his stash a bit harder to pay Wayne back for the long distance call. 

The past two years had been a slow crawl of building back trust up with Veronica Ecker. The two had gone almost a whole summer without talking before Eddie had basically groveled for forgiveness outside of Granny Ecker’s trailer before Ronnie left for New York. She had forgiven him enough to let him give her a ride to the airport. 

“Last time?” He’d asked. 

“Last time.” She’d repeated. 

“So why didn’t you shack up with her tonight?” Ronnie asked. “You got her into your van, and you dropped her off like a gentleman.” 

“I don’t know, I panicked.” Eddie sighed, bonking his head against the fridge a few times. “She was right there, and she was leaning in and all I saw was Paige leaning in-”

“You know not every girl who shares your taste in music is Paige, right?” Eddie could practically see Ronnie rolling her eyes on the other end of the line. 

“Any girl that shares my taste in music ends up fucking off to the opposite end of the country.” 

This made Ronnie laugh. “You’re an idiot. Paige fucked off back to her job and I fucked off to college.”

“Fucking off is fucking off.”

“Maybe you need to fuck off.”

“I tried, remember?” 

She remembered. Both of them remembered. 

“Look, stop being a dipshit.” Ronnie said after a moment of awkward silence. “You’re graduating this year, right?”

“Uhhh...”

“Eddie.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m working on it. I just need those last stupid two classes and then I’m home free.” Eddie confirmed. 

“You can’t stay in high school forever.” Ronnie said. “And you’re gonna realize that there’s life outside of Hawkins. Have you even talked to Paige since then?”

He hadn’t, and they both knew it. Eddie gave up two months after she’d bailed him out of jail. Two months of dead air silence. He got the hint. 

“No.”

“Then stop worrying about one girl from over two years ago!” Eddie could feel the phantom pain of Ronnie punching him in the arm like she always used to. “Get laid and graduate, Munson. You earned it.”

Eddie snorted, sliding down the fridge to sit on the cool floor. “Is that the only advice you got for me, Ecker?”

“It’s the only advice you need. Did you pass that test last week?” Ronnie asked. 

“By the skin of my teeth.” Eddie sighed, leaning his head back against the fridge. 

“Your new girl graduated, maybe she can help you study.”

“She’s not my girl. She’s a girl that I’ve met a handful of times-”

“That’s turning your brain to mush.” 

“She doesn’t even know who I am, Ronnie.” He fiddled with the chord in his hand, watching the spiral wind and unwind around his fingers. It was already stretched out pretty bad, with a few spirals already tangled beyond repair like his old slinky from when he was a kid. 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Ronnie asked. “She doesn’t know you, that means she doesn’t feed into the bullshit of the rumor mill.” 

Ronnie had a point and he hated it, but that’s why he called her to begin with. Ronnie was the only person who could cut through his Munson bullshit and give it to him straight. He missed it. As much as he enjoyed the power he had to protect his little lost sheepies, they were all too intimidated to actually stand up to him and call him out the way that Ronnie would.

“Yeah, you’re right. As usual.” Eddie could hear her snort and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “So why the hell are you even awake right now? Up til 2 am on a school night, Ecker?”

“It’s barely past midnight, the time zone isn’t that off. I was studying for a test, but hearing you complain about your love life is a far more productive use of my time.” 

“You’re using me to slack off, aren’t you?” 

“If I have to look at my flashcards one more time tonight my eyes are gonna go square. How’s Granny doing?”

“She’s an empty nester and is determined to turn me into her replacement grandson until you visit again.” Eddie shook his head. “She threatened to give me a haircut the last time she dropped off a plate for Wayne.”

Ronnie had come back to visit a grand total of five times since she’d left, returning for holidays and summers to visit Granny Ecker and by extension Eddie. Each time she’d come back with stories of law school and how different New York is. 

It seemed impossible, everything that Ronnie had told him about going to college and about life outside their small town. She was playing Dungeons and Dragons still, having found a group that would play with her. According to her, being a rules lawyer for the game at a law school hit way different than it had their small Hellfire group in high school. No one even cared that they played outside of a few students who had better things to do than enact violence against a few nerds. 

Then again, in law school everyone was some sort of nerd. Eddie wondered if even a freak would be accepted there. Well, socially at least. He wasn’t delusional enough to think he’d be able to be accepted into law school with his grades. Ronnie had invited him up to visit a few times, but there was never time or money to do it. 

The two continued talking for another hour, catching up until Ronnie was scolding him for staying up so late on a school night. 

“Yeah? And what’s your excuse?” Eddie said. “It’s almost 4:20 am there.” 

“Ha. Ha. Again, ha.” Ronnie said. “Still not how timezones work. And my first class doesn’t start until noon.”

Right. In college you didn’t have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn every day. 

“Night, Ecker.”

“Night, Munson. Graduate and get laid.” 

“Does it matter the order?”

“Good night, Eddie.”

Talking to Ronnie had eased his nerves, but there was still something inside that wouldn’t let him lay down and go to sleep. It was late now, way later than he intended to stay up tonight. The night he played at the Hideout always had him up late, and his teacher already considered him more useless than usual on Wednesdays. It’s not like anyone would care if he slept in class, unless they were in a particularly foul mood. 

He made his way to a stack of books in his room rummaging through a pile or two until he found what he was looking for. Eddie’s copy of Lord of the RIngs was well loved at best, and completely trashed at worst. The cover of the paperback was nearly torn off, taped back together haphazardly over the years. Pages were dogeared, the spine was cracked, notes were scribbled in the margins, and his name was scribbled in messy cursive on the front page declaring that this book belonged to Eddie Munson and that he was in third grade.

Eddie stripped out of most of his clothes, tossing his jewelry on his nightstand, and hopped into bed. He turned on a small lamp and opened the book. He could probably recite the first chapter from memory if he tried, the words on the page a comfortable lullabye for his wound up mind. But tonight he flipped to a page near the end where his bookmark was. The flower made out of blue construction paper wasn’t nearly as old as the book, and only in better shape because it never left the safe pages of Tolkein’s writing. 

His eyes glanced at his arm again, your phone number a temporary tattoo on his skin until it washed off. Shit, it was going to wash off eventually. Eddie grabbed a pen from under his bed and added another scribble to the inside of the book before copying your number carefully onto the paper flower. At least this way he’d always know where it was. 

With that aside, Eddie didn’t make it through three pages of his book before he passed out with the light still on. 

Fall Semester, 1984

The PrinciPAL’s office was just as interesting and inviting as it always was, which is to say not at all. Eddie was slumped back on a chair, watching as Janice sorted through paperwork, pretending to look busy so that she could avoid any small talk with ‘that Munson boy’. He had been waiting for Higgin’s to show up for almost fifteen minutes now, because why shouldn’t he waste Eddie’s time at this point? The worst that was going to happen today is that they’d do their little song and dance, Eddie would plead his case that the flyers were absolutely serious and that Chris Morrison had every intent to run for student council, and that it was all of the club that had made the posters, Higgins would shake his head and not believe Eddie for a second (which to be fair, this would be the first time that Eddie would admit privately that it was his fault), they’d go back and forth until Eddie got some form of detention or Saturday school. 

Honestly, the worst part would be rescheduling Hellfire if he wound up in detention. 

Eddie had counted out 13 paper clips that Janice had used in her papershifting before the door to the front office opened up again. He looked up, expecting to see Higgins walk in, ignore him for another five minutes, before Janice would let Eddie go in. 

He didn’t expect to see you, pale and shaken, clutching a teacher’s note in your hand. Eddie watched as you handed the note over to Janice who read it, shook her head, and pointed at the chair next to himself. Your eyes never left the floor as you sat next to him, staring at the cheap carpet as if you could somehow burn a hole in it and disappear. 

Trouble was no stranger to Eddie, and Eddie was no stranger to trouble. In Hawkins the name ‘Munson’ might as well be in the thesaurus next to the word. This wasn’t his first rodeo, and it would be far from his last as long as Higgins stayed the princiPAL. He’d walk away with a lecture and a sigh and then it would be business as normal. 

The look on your face though, that was far from the mild annoyance he felt. You look downright traumatized at the idea of having been sent here. Eddie glanced up at Janice who deigned to make eye contact with him now. Her eyes flicked between the two of you, a disapproving look behind her purple frames as if this was somehow Eddie’s fault that you had ended up here as well. But then, as far as any of the faculty from the office was concerned, even him being enrolled at this school was a death sentence to the rest of the poor student body. Eddie was a disease that they would try to contain until they had the cure to remove him. 

The shaking of your knee made your chair (and his chair by proxy) rattle slightly. The quiet of the office and the mundane shuffling of Janice’s papers only added to the tension that was radiating off you. 

“Janice, is Higgin’s gonna be long?” Eddie finally asked, and your bouncing knee stopped for just a moment before going back to its nervous movement. 

“He’s in a very important meeting.” Came the reply over a stack of papers, still not looking at Eddie. 

He sighed again and looked over at you, trying to place where he knew your face. Your eyes were a bit red, and you looked like you were on the verge of crying. Shit, he needed to do something before he had to ask Janice for the tissue box. 

“First time?” Eddie asked, and when you didn’t respond he nudged your knee with his. 

You jumped slightly, head snapping up. It was a wonder you didn’t give yourself whiplash and it would have been almost funny to Eddie had you not looked like a deer in the headlights looking at him. 

“I... Huh?” your voice cracked slightly. 

“What are ya in for?” Eddie did his best to give you a smile which he was sure made him look more like a serial killer than a comfort. It was rare he wished that he had his dad’s smile, but in cases like this he’d make an exception. 

You looked at the paper in your hand and swallowed. “Uh... skipped.” 

“Skipped school or just class?” Eddie prompted, trying to get you to talk more. If you were talking, then you weren’t crying. That’s what he hoped at least. 

“Class.” He didn’t think you’d say anymore but you surprised him. “US History.” Eddie caught the way your eyes darted to Janice again as if to make sure she wasn’t listening in, but Janice had better things to do than to eavesdrop on two delinquents. “I wasn’t... I had a bad day. I'm having a bad day. I felt like I was going to explode and I went to the library.” 

Eddie nodded, wondering what had happened today that made you need to duck out. It wasn’t his business, and frankly Higgin’s was going to grill you enough as it was. 

“Rookie mistake.” He said instead. 

“Rookie...?” 

Eddie kept his voice low and leaned in closer to you as if telling you a secret. “If you’re gonna skip, you can’t go to the library. You might as well have walked into the teacher’s lounge and announced that you were cutting class.”

You let out a sharp breath that he swore counted for a laugh. “Thanks for the heads up, can you tell me that a few hours ago?”

There was color returning to your face now and Eddie kept going. His brown eyes scanned your face, trying to place where he knew you from. Hawkins was a small town, and there was nothing about you that screamed ‘I’m new!’. 

He liked your sarcasm though, and his ‘comforting’ grin shifted into a genuine smile. “If you’re gonna ditch, you need to go to the bathroom or go outside.” He said. “Especially for last period. Go hide outside in the woods and you can slip into the parking lot seamlessly without anyone noticing. By the end of the day the teachers are barely taking attendance anyway.”

“Have you been in the girls rooms here?” you asked, shaking your head. “I think I’d rather take my chances here than stay in there longer than I’d have to.” Eddie wasn’t sure if you were trying to make a joke or if you were serious.

“Would you rather hide in the boys room?” he asked. “I swear it only smells like piss almost all of the time and you’d end up in the splash zone even if you were in a stall.”

That got a laugh out of you, a genuine one. Your shoulders were relaxing and you looked down at the paper again and took a deep breath that you exhaled with a sigh. 

“I’ve never been in trouble before.” you said, your hands starting to bend and fold the paper on your lap absently. “I’m not good at being in trouble.”

“Well, lucky for you I’m here.” Eddie nudged your knee again with his. “Being in trouble is kind of my job here at Hawkin’s High. I’m a professional, you know. If I wasn’t here taking up all of Principal Higgin’s time he might have to actually do his job.” 

That last part was louder, as he directed it to Janice who refused to take the bait and only reached for her lilac stapler instead. 

A small smack on his arm drew his attention back to you, you were smiling at him looking astonished. “You’re gonna get us in trouble!” you whispered at him. 

“We’re already in trouble.” Eddie reminded you, his smile never fading. “Look, you’ve never been in trouble before, right? You’re gonna be fine. Just give him a good sob story about being overwhelmed with school, or about a sick pet. If you can squeeze out some tears that’s even better. The worst that he’s gonna do is give you a slap on the wrist and maybe detention if he’s in a shit mood”

You take in his words, listening to him carefully and taking in every word he was saying as if this was life or death. Eddie admittedly, had purposefully slipped into his Dungeon Master voice. It was a skill that normally only worked on his little sheepies in his club, and that was after semesters of training his players to listen and pay attention to his words or else it would be life or death for their characters. 

Having someone else listen to him like that? It felt really good. 

Your mouth started to open to say something but then the office door opened again and Higgin’s stepped in, nodding to Janice and then looking at the two of you. There was an accusatory look in his eyes as he made eye contact with Eddie again, and it was clear what that look said. Leave her alone, don’t make things worse for her than they already are. 

“Munson.” Higgins said and it took everything in him to stay still and not flinch at his last name. He was used to the weight that came with his name, but he hadn’t wanted you to know who he was. Not after he just remembered where he knew you from, glancing down at the note that you had folded into a flower in a fit of nerves. 

“I heard you missed me, Sir.” Eddie forced his eyes to meet Higgin’s. “You really should just start saying hi in the hallways instead of inviting me to these little chats every week. You’re taking away valuable learning time from me, you know.” 

If the two of them had been alone, Higgins would have snapped back at Eddie about being a smartass. But you were there, and the color had drained from your face again, and there was a shine to your eyes that was threatening to spill over your waterline. Higgins looked at you and motioned for you to follow him into his office. 

Eddie wished that you would turn and look at him before disappearing into the PrincePAL’s office. He could imagine you turning to look at him for comfort, he’d give you a smile that would put you at ease and a thumbs up. You’d give him another smile and walk in feeling brave. 

Instead it was like you forgot he was there as your figure disappeared behind the heavy wood door that shut with a heavy click. 

Of course Higgins had you come in first, even though Eddie had already been sitting here since the beginning of the period when he’d been called in. 

He was tempted to go over to the door and press his ear up against it to listen in on what he was saying to you but even Janice would scold him for that. So there Eddie sat for another ten minutes as he waited for you to step out again. 

Higgin’s was the one to open the door and let you out of the office, as if he were some gentleman instead of Eddie’s own personal warden five days a week. You walked out and to Eddie’s surprise you gave him a nod and mouthed thank you as you slipped back out the door and into the hallway. 

Eddie’s eyes followed you until he couldn’t see you anymore and it took Higgin’s standing in front of him with folded arms and saying his full government name for Eddie to snap back to reality. 

“Munson. A word about your little flyers?”

“Well, I’d say a picture is worth a thousand words-”

“In my office.”

Eddie didn’t remember much else about that talk, only remembering the white paper flower that had been carelessly tossed into the trash next to Higgin’s desk. 

“He still hasn’t called you?” Steve asked as you, him, and Robin continued your closing routine. The day had been busy, with almost everyone in Hawkins coming to rent a movie for the weekend. Robin was stocking the candy while you wiped down the sticky counter where children had been touching all day. Who’s idea was it to leave out free suckers on the counter anyway?

Oh right, that was your idea because you loved Halloween. 

“Nope.” you said, your voice a little tense. It had been almost two weeks since that night at the Hideout. You hadn’t returned to the dive bar, hoping that Eddie would call you and make the next move. Each passing day you had stayed as close to the phone as possible when you were home and you’d checked your voicemail every day when you got home for any sign that he’d attempted to reach out. 

Nothing. 

You shouldn’t feel this rejected but you did. It was far too early to tell if you had any feelings beyond initial attraction to the guy, but... you’d felt something. An enjoyment of bantering with him and an ease that came as naturally as your friendship with Robin and Steve. 

Plus, you had to admit it, he was really fucking hot. Seeing him play guitar two weeks ago had haunted your dreams and slipped into a few of your fantasies when you were alone. 

You kept that part to yourself though, that was the last thing that Steve or Robin needed to hear. Besides, that was Steve’s job to go far too into detail about his sex life. Steve had tried ribbing you about going home with Eddie but you’d told him that you were a complete gentleman with him. 

That night had left you feeling electrified, almost high as you danced around your room as you got ready for bed. Even as his odd parting rattled around your brain, you couldn’t help but to feel excited at the idea of seeing him again. 

Then a few days went by. Then a week. And now two weeks later you hadn’t heard from him. The kids hadn’t stopped by either so you couldn’t hassle them about Eddie either. Even if they had, you weren’t sure if you could ask about him, you didn’t want to come across as desperate. 

“Did you ever figure out what he meant by ‘five times?’” Robin asked, opening up a squished package of Reese's Cups. “Like, didn’t you say you didn’t know him?”

You threw your hands up before tossing the paper towels you were using to clean in the trash can. 

“I have no idea.” you said. “Either I’m bad at math, he’s bad at math, or maybe we’re both stupid.”

“He did get held back a few times.” Steve muttered to himself. 

“There’s a chance that you two have met before though.” said Robin, “I mean think about it, you’re both weirdos who went to the same school. Shouldn’t you both have bumped into each other before?” 

“You’d think so, but my group kind of kept to ourselves.” you said with a sigh. “We were private weirdos. When I DID try and make other friends-”

“Yeah, yeah, Chris Morrison shot you down.” Steve said, waving his hand. 

“Oh, you heard that story?” you laughed. “I didn’t think I mentioned it to you before.”

Steve gave you a blank stare that only made you laugh more. “I swear you keep talking about that guy more than Eddie. Maybe I should track him down and set you up on a blind date with him instead.” 

“Don’t you dare!” 

“Hey, that could be fun!” Robin added. “We’ll dress you up super hot, set you up with Chris, and then you can turn him down instead!” 

“Excuse you, Robin. I am always super hot.” you declared, straightening out your unflattering Family Video vest. “Who wouldn’t want a piece of this?”

You hadn’t done laundry in a week, and your hair had seen better days. The green polyester vest was wrinkled and if Keith saw you looking sloppy he’d probably have words about it. Not big words or even intimidating words, but words nonetheless. It was night and day compared to how you’d looked at the Hideout and the arcade earlier in the month. But it wasn’t like you had anyone to impress while you were at work anyway. 

“Hey, nerdy chicks can be hot.” Steve said. “I mean, Nancy’s an academic nerd and I was crazy about her.” 

You hummed thoughtfully and turned to Robin. “How about we get married instead?” you asked. “You, me, a fuck ton of cats, and a tax break. What do you say?”

Robin laughed and shook her head. “You aren’t my type.” Her eyes darted nervously to Steve for a split second and you sighed dramatically. 

“Guess it’s just me and the cats I’ll eventually adopt.” you said. “Not even a tax break.” 

“You know, Keith thinks you’re cute-”

“I am going to pretend that you did not just say that, Harrington.” you said firmly. “Nope, not happening. Uh-uh. Absolutely not.” 

“He’s not... that bad?” Robin said, but you could hear the pain in her voice through the laughter. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” 

“The lady is trying not to think actually.” you laugh. “We’re closed, I’m actually done thinking. I just wanna finish cleaning up and go home. What’s left?”

“Rewinding the returns,-”

“Ugh.”

“Cleaning up the kids movies,-”

“Ugh.”

“And cleaning the bathroom.”

“UGHHHHHH.” 

“Would you rather clean up the porn room?” asked Robin. 

“Yes actually, I would.” You said. “Whatever they think about doing in that room is what they do end up doing in the bathroom.”

“Gross.”

Steve sighed “Okay, I’ll be the hero and save you ladies from cleaning the bathroom. Robin, you fix the kids section, and you can rewind the tapes.”

“I thought I was in charge here.” You crossed your arms. 

“Okay, did you have a better way to divide and conquer?”

“...No.”

“Then let’s hurry up and-”

Ding!

“Who didn’t lock the door?!” you asked. 

“It was Steve’s job to-” Robin started. 

“Oh, shit. Hi.” Steve was staring at the person who had just walked in. You turned around and your heart jumped in your chest and your stomach dropped. 

“Cursing in front of customers, Harrington?” Eddie said. “Now that’s not very professional of you.”

Robin’s eyes were darting so fast between you and Eddie that you were surprised she wasn’t giving herself vertigo. You tried to give her a pointed glare but your friend either didn’t get the hint or refused to. 

“Well, we’re closed. You can’t be a customer if you can’t pay.” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips. 

Eddie looked away from Steve and made eye contact with you. It had been two weeks since you’d seen him, and you glazed at his arm for a second, trying to see if the faded remains of your phone number were still stamped on his arm. Unfortunately for you he was wearing a heavy leather jacket and you had not yet developed x ray vision. Perhaps in another genre. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” Eddie asked and you, ignoring Steve who looked mildly offended. 

You stood there in shock for a second before Robin nudged you in the rib. 

“I- uh. I have to finish closing.” you said, snapping out of it. 

“Steve and I can handle the rest of closing!” Robin grabbed Steve and shook his shoulder. 

“Guys, I’m literally in charge of you both. I can’t leave before you.” You said, already reaching for your bag under the counter. 

“We can handle it!” Steve said. 

“And I can handle Steve!” Robin added. “We close without you and Keith all the time, remember?”

You could trust Robin, and as long as Steve didn’t knock down any displays then it wouldn’t take them more than another ten minutes to finish up. You were so tempted to turn them down, make Eddie wait as you had waited for him for the past two weeks. 

But you were already stepping behind the counter towards Eddie and tossing the keys to lock up to Robin. Keith would murder you and write you up (in that order) if he knew what you were doing but looking up at the roundest pair of brown eyes you’d ever seen had you in the mood to make questionable choices. 

You shrugged off your vest and tossed it at Steve, in an attempt to make yourself look like you hadn’t spent the whole day dealing with unruly customers and screaming kids. Part of you almost wished that you had agreed to bathroom duty, if only to give you an excuse to look in a mirror and straighten yourself out. 

“Thanks, guys.” you gave them a quick nod, catching sight of Robin’s knowing smirk and Steve shaking his head before walking out the door that Eddie was holding open for you. 

The last thing you heard was the scrambling of the entrance to Family Video being locked. 

Part 7

Dividers by @strangergraphics

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[have-kake]

Big Brother [2/3]

Three instances of big brother instincts within the chain. [Ao3 Link]

[Part 1: Wind] [Part 2: Twilight] [Part 3: Warriors]

Twilight pauses when he thinks he hears shouting. He's far from camp, and he can't usually hear the others from this far. He quickly changes directions and starts back. If monsters showed up, he'd rather be a part of the fight than find out he missed the entire thing.

The shouting gets clearer the closer he gets. He's careful to keep quiet as he hurries along. The last thing he needs is for any potential enemies to hear him.

"You don't need to know how to read to work a fucking map!!" Legend practically roars.

Twilight stumbles to a halt in his surprise.

Wild screams his own retort back.

Twilight runs a hand over his face with a long sigh. Of course they're arguing over how to travel. When do they not argue about how to travel?

He doesn't bother rushing for the rest of the walk back. They're screaming at each other, but it doesn't seem all that serious yet either.

He stops at the edge of camp where he can get a good look at them. He's not surprised to see Legend and Wild squaring up, but he is surprised to see Hyrule doing the same. He even seems to be on Wild's side too.

He looks around the camp to see where the others are. Sky and Four are both gone. Wind sits with Wars and they're both snickering at the arguing trio. And Time is doing a wonderful job at ignore everything.

He lets out a weary sigh. How did he end up being the only adult in the group? He's not even part of the oldest three! Yet he always gets stuck breaking up the stupid fights.

Hyrule and Wind play with a chuchu from Wild's era? Time's there to glare at all of them in disappointment.

Everyone places bets on whether Four can win against a like-like in tug-of-war? Time's there to lecture everyone and glare at them in disappointment.

Four and Wild nearly come to blows over what a tomato is? Twilight's there to calm them down.

Legend and Sky start fighting over religion and which Goddesses are real? Twilight's there to separate them.

Wild and Hyrule gang up on Legend about how to travel? Twilight's left to resolve the issue.

"That's soundin' like a pretty serious argument y'all are having," Twilight comments as he steps up to the trio. Instantly all three of them start shouting again as they try to talk over one another to give their side of the story first.

Normally, Twilight doesn't mind. He's used to breaking up arguments and fights between the kids in the his village. But these are grown adults! And none of the other adults bother to do shit!

Without warning, he hits all three of them on the head. "Shut up!" He snaps.

Hyrule falls silent in shock. Legend just crosses his arms with a huff. Wild tries to talk back, but a glare has him backing down.

"Y'all gettin this fight every other day!" He snaps. He doesn't even care about how the others are gonna pick on his accent. "I am sick 'n tired of hearin' it!"

"Then go somewhere else!" Wild yells as Hyrule tries to blame Legend for something.

Twilight reaches out and grabs both of them. He picks them up with ease. He makes sure to hold them extra tight so they don't slip free and so it's uncomfortable.

Legend snorts.

Twilight glares at him and the vet immediately falls silent.

Wild tries to break free so he tightens his grip, and he keeps tightening until Wild starts yelling. "Okay, stop, stop! That hurts!" He shouts finally stopping his struggle.

Twilight stops tightening his grip, but he doesn't loosen it either. "If I gotta hear this stupid dang fight one more time!" He threatens. "Imma rat the three o' y'all to Time!"

That seems to get the Old Man's attention.

Legend narrows his eyes up at Twilight. "You wouldn't," he whispers.

"Watch me," he looks away to find Time watching them carefully. "Hey, Old Man, y'ever wonder how yer fancy shoulder armor got all chewed up?"

Legend's eyes widen comically wide. Twilight would laugh if he wasn't so annoyed. He has to fix his hold on Hyrule as the poor boy also tenses. Two birds with one stone.

Time's single eye narrows. "Yes," he says slowly. "As a matter of fact, I do."

Twilight turns back to Legend with a triumphant smirk. He even focus on the two in his arms for good measure. Can't let Time know for sure who did it.

"Or maybe I'll tell Sky which o' y'all spilled that weird gunk on the Master Sword," Twilight continues feeling Wild and Hyrule flinch. "Or Wars who tore up his scarf." The scarf had actually been Four, but having the Captain's attention increase the tension helps.

"Okay, okay! We'll stop!" Wild says.

Hyrule's quick to nod along. "No more fighting! Got it!"

Twilight lets go abruptly. Hyrule tries to catch himself, but still ends up with a mouthful of dirt. Wild doesn't even bother trying and just flops to the ground with a quiet grunt.

He waits until they've picked themselves up to cross his arms. "Well?"

"Sorry, Twilight," they say with varying degrees of reluctance.

"I ain't the one y'all should be apologizin' to," though he does appreciate it.

Legend and Wild grumble while Hyrule simply shuffles in place.

"I'm waiting."

Hyrule sighs. "Sorry, Legend."

"Yeah, sorry," Wild adds.

Legend huffs. "I'm sorry, too, I guess."

Twilight claps both Legend and Wild on the shoulder. He smiles at the way they both jump. "See, that ain't so hard."

The three of them disperse and wander to different parts of the camp. Twilight sighs and makes his way over to the fire. There goes his plans to transform for a few hours. He's too exhausted to even think of running around. Shame he can't take them out to chop wood. Like Fado liked to say: you got energy to fight, you got energy to work! 

Wind snickers as he walks by. "Looks like even big brother Twilight has his limits," he stage whispers to Wars who snorts.

Twilight stops to raise an eyebrow at both of them. "Y'all two fixin' to join in?"

Wars and Wind both hold up their hands. "Nope, we're all good," Wars says.

"What he said," Wind agrees.

He ignores them and goes to take a seat. He lets out a long breath as he gets settled.

Time leans over to him. "Who was it?"

"Hm?"

"Who messed up my pauldron?"

"Dunno what you're talking 'bout," he replies.

Time frowns. "But you said–?"

"And they stopped," he shrugs, "so s'far as I'm concerned, I dunno what you're talkin' bout."

Wars laughs. "A true brother's honor!"

Some time later, Sky finally wanders into camp. He looks around and raises an eyebrow at Four and Wild as they cook. "Did they finally finish fighting?"

Twilight glares at him.

Wind leans forward from his spot by Time. "You should've seen it!" He says excitedly. "Twi really let 'em have it!"

"He went full farm boy on them, too," Warriors adds. "Thick accent and all!"

Sky looks surprised as he takes a seat next to Warriors. "Really?"

Twilight's still glaring at him. "And where were you?" He asks. "You were supposed to be watchin' the camp with Wars 'n the Old Man."

"The fighting was getting annoying, so I went for a walk," he shrugs.

Twilight simply nods.

--

In the morning when they head out on the road again, Twilight lets Legend know Sky's the one who accidentally dumped his pack a few days ago. He leaves to scout ahead just as Legend starts shouting. Maybe one day Sky will act his age. Until then, Twilight will keep treating him like one of the kids from the village too.

[illumiiiz]

opinions I have about various music-related things. if you wanna discuss/dispute any of these please hmu (I need music friends)

skillet is not bad. their discography as a collective might not be that good, but they’re definitely not bad. go listen to psycho in my head, monster, rise, sick of it, cycle down, victorious, and save me and I dare you to come back and tell me with complete sincerity and a straight face that they suck

whoever says skillet is bad even after doing this is just a fundamentally unhappy person. and I will pray for you

nickelback is also not that bad. in fact I would venture to say nickelback kind of fucks

same for maroon 5

as a follow up to the last point, you could get white girl wasted to moves like jagger, maps, one more night, or wake up call but some people are just cowards

if you’re wearing a band shirt you SHOULD be able to name at least three songs or one album by that band

if you see someone wearing a shirt for a band you also like you should not ever ask them to name any number of songs to prove their allegiance to the band or whatever. if you’re gonna talk to them at all, you should ask what their favorite song by that band is, and then share your own. you have now made an acquaintance and opened the floor for friendly conversation. otherwise leave them alone

my chemical romance should do a cover of two songs: sister golden hair by america and unbelievable by emf. after that they should drop mcr5

when mcr covers unbelievable, they should make a music video parody of the after credit scene from barbie & the three musketeers. this is exponentially more important than the sister golden hair cover

if you say you dislike a genre (country, rap, edm, etc) you should be required to name every song and artist you’ve listened to from that genre that you disliked, and should magically be given an equal number of recommendations of songs or artists from that same genre with a different vibe that you might like better by your personal genie.

if you always skip the intro and outro songs of the shows/animes you watch no matter what, I diagnose you with unfun show watcher disease. and I will pray for you

you should at LEAST watch through the intro and outro songs of a show once per season or whenever there is a new intro/outro song. this is like “seasoning” your meal exclusively with salt and pepper and is the absolute bare minimum

people who make good character playlists are the backbone of our society

if you don’t like an artist as a person you can still like what they create. you can also like something without knowing anything about the creator as a human being, even if you avoid this knowledge on purpose. go on, be free

if you exclusively listen to soundtrack/music without any lyrics at all, I am a little bit afraid of you. do you even have voices in your head? or do you just have so many you can’t stand to listen to any more even in music?

there is no such thing as having “basic” taste in music

everyone has heard a fall out boy song

I once told a coworker from my old job I was going to their concert and she was like “oh I’ve never heard of them, have fun tho!!” and this other (older) coworker and I were both like whaaat everyone’s heard a fall out boy song before, you probably just don’t know them by name. and she was like “mmm no I’m pretty sure I haven’t tho, sorry.” miss ma’am. you’re 27, you’ve heard of fall out boy. not an opinion just something I thought was funny

songs about love and sex and murder are cool but people need to start making songs about weird little dudes they made up in their heads named things like grimpus nimbbee that live in acorn houses and do things like take all your doors off their hinges and take random seams out of your clothes while you’re asleep

— to be continued indefinitely as I think of more

[boozeforblues]

She Will Outstrip All Praise And Make It Halt Behind Her (Alive In Ego)

She said "I want you to get better, but misery looks so damn good on you" In all my life, I thought I understood a few But none like I comprehend the sickness in my blood Her dam gave way and I was in the middle of a flood But she repaired the breach with lightning speed She's got a heart to protect and an ego to feed Casualties of the worst kind of war And I honestly can't remember what I'm fighting for Or against; drawn, quartered, and bleeding for naught Let this go with nary a second thought I'm expected to read between the lines on the blankest pages Penning heartsick love tomes for the ages And I still haven't broken a sweat or her heart Her facade tells me she's perfectly fine with being apart But the truth rears its head against her intent Reduced from torrent to trickle with no regard for the capital we've spent Drowning in red ink and not much to show But her name on my arm and on my lips, strike a blow For loneliness, make your way without a map It's as torn and tattered as both our hearts, turn a clap Into full blown applause at how I've fucked this all to pieces If you mind the gap, I'll tend to the creases Pretending that I'm well versed in damage control Absconding into the night like it's something you stole Freedom is on the rise, yet I choose to be in chains I've bled for so long, I've forgotten the original color of the stains I feel it creeping in like an old flame I extinguished for a reason Desperately swinging at demons like I'm committing emotional treason Only catharsis can corral them back to hell And I've finally figured out the magic spell The choices are either you or alcohol Mix them together and watch me stall Sputtering to a drunken crawl as I spill my guts in more ways than one And when no one wants to stick around, I know that I'm done Stick a fork in me so I know I'm alive Under these conditions I normally thrive But it's getting harder to persevere with less of myself to carry It's how you didn't have an answer when I asked you what was so scary About me, but I know that was a lie Your eyes gave you away like they always pry Every secret straight from my sternum Comparing scars because we know how to earn 'em Wells run dry and deserts starve like us Surviving without love like a waterless ficus I keep thinking that neglect will carry us through Teach ourselves to live on grand pronouncements and adieus I've always performed for the smallest captive audience Crass proclamations always end up the bawdiest Relearning to hold my tongue when I'm around you Accustomed to the openness you once took to Safety is earned and I've had my fill I'll throw my head back and swallow another pill Anything to take the edge off this sloppily curated life For a brief moment, your contact was "future wife" You had the guts to take it there first Everything since that moment has been the worst You clutched me close, now I'm back at arm's length Showing off my acting skills by once again feigning strength One of these days, it's going to catch up to us both Height marks on door frames to measure our growth But I told you once that this love was immeasurable Even when you cause me pain, I find it pleasurable At least I'm feeling something, a void I've never filled Until you threw up all your guts and spilled A symphony of truth unmatched to my ears The stories and memories that will echo through the years Tethering me to earth so I don't float away in your absence All that's left is to choose between drowning in sorrow or absinthe Walking to my car, hands dovetailed without any glue I keep hoping some sense of profundity will spark something inside of you…

[comfortwriting]

Best friends Brother - G.W

Part 1 of my slow burn mini-series, inspired by and dedicated to @amourtentiaa , want to be tagged? Let me know!

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Part 2

George Weasley x Fem Reader 

About: The Reader is falling for her best mates older brother, she confines in Ron who is already afraid of losing his best friend to the brothers he’s so pressured to be like.

Warnings: swearing, fluff, mention of food and eating, but of angst, George punching a creep.

Walking away from Hagrid’s hut towards the castle, thoughts about the more quiet Weasley twin filled your hazy head - you were planning on shooting your shot, but first you needed some advice and the only person who could do that right now is your best friend Ron - currently chewing your ear off about Hermione and the house elves. 

“She doesn’t know when to stop does she? All the S.P.E.W nonsense, if she brings it up one more time-”

“Hey, do you think George likes anyone?” you asked as cool as possible, trying to contain your nervousness and excitement. 

Although you and George had only spoken few words to one another, he was all you could think about, all you ever thought about, day in day out. You would share sweet glances and looks across the common room in the evening, the beautiful amber glare coming from the flames projecting onto George’s face, making him look like an angel. 

As much as you liked him, you were terrified that he wouldn’t feel the same, that he only saw you as his little brothers best friend - you hated it. 

Ron slowed down from his brisk walk and he continued to stare at the ground “George? As in.. my brother?” 

“yeah” you smiled shyly, swallowing hard. 

Ron could feel his heart flutter, the idea of another person - his best friend - favouring one of his legendary twin brothers over him made him sick to his stomach, he couldn’t lose anyone else, he wouldn’t let it.

He pondered his thoughts, perhaps you were asking for someone else, someone Ron didn’t care about - the desperation in his stomach kept churning to find out. 

“I don’t know” he replied in a huff “we don’t really talk much, why you asking anyway?” 

You went quiet, suddenly finding interest in the scenery as the two of you edged closer to the castle. 

“uh, no reason” you lied, running your hand through your hair. 

For all of Ron’s flaws, he could tell when his best friend was lying - he never failed calling you out for it in the past, you learnt not to play any card games with him - especially when galleons were on the table. 

The two of you entered the loud castle, pushing past students in the hall, making your way to the Gryffindor common room.

“you like him, don’t you?” Ron muttered under his breath, making sure everyone else around you couldn’t hear.

You sighed and made eye contact with Ron, his facial expression even more sour than when he puked up slugs in first year. 

You walked up the stairs and held on to the rail, looking around for the Fat Lady “I suppose I do, I was thinking of asking him to-”

Ron could feel the sweat form in his palms and under his arms, images of you and George being together all the time instead of him flashed before him.

“I don’t know, Y/N, you’re two years younger than him, you haven’t spoken more than ten words to each other.” 

Your heart pained for a moment, your spirits crushing like the ingredients in one of Snape’s potions.

“I just don’t think he’ll like you that much, I don’t want you to get hurt.” he finished, the two of you finally reaching the portrait. 

“I guess so” you mumbled “you know him better than I do.”

Over the next few days you couldn’t stomach being around George, each time you looked into his gorgeous eyes and seeing him smile, caused your heart pain, a lump forming in your throat, and hot tears filling your eyes. 

At first George didn’t notice but when he would wave and smile - only to be ignored, he couldn’t help but overthink; wondering if he had done something wrong. 

It wasn’t just George who you ignored, you kept away from your best friend Ron too - Ron felt like shit but you were away from George and that gave him enough of a clear conscience to sleep at night. 

You couldn’t sleep, you missed your best friend even when he hurt your feelings, you also felt hopeless, the only person you ever showed an interest in wouldn’t even give you a chance.  

“What’s been up with Y/N lately? George asked his younger brother, buttering his toast, causing Ron to almost choke on his. 

“What you on about?” 

George rolled his eyes and swallowed his food, “unbelievable you are, she’s been avoiding you like the plague and she won’t even look at me.”  

“So, did you make up your mind yet?” 

You swore silently under your breath, recognising the voice who called out to you - an attractive and charming Hufflepuff student in George’s year with short black hair kept asking you over and over to go on a date with him in Hogsmeade, each time you said no had failed to satisfy his desire. 

“Uh” you were trying to figure out the best way to tell him to fuck off, but then again, what did you have to lose? “yeah, I’ll be there” you faked a smile. 

Ron watched in the distance and felt relieved, from his perspective, the possibility of you and George seemed incredibly slim to none. He walked over towards you as soon as the lad split, a smile creeping up on his face. 

“Y/N, alright?” he smiled, his hands in his pockets. 

You stared at him, yes you were hurt, but you missed him - he could do much worse to cause a much bigger fall out between the two of you. 

“I suppose” you sighed “walk with me to Transfiguration class?” 

Ron smiled “can do”

“and took your bloody shirt in!” you scolded him, bumping into him playfully. 

As much as you enjoyed visiting Hogsmeade, you couldn’t help but want to go back home and climb back into your warm bed, hiding away from the world - but your habit of trying to see the best in people lead you here - waiting outside Honey Dukes for your date to arrive. 

“Look at you!” he called out, walking over and kissing your hand “ready for the best day of your life?” he grinned.

Best day of my life? with you? I should’ve stayed in bed.

“Sure” you replied, plastering a fake smile on your face. 

The best day of your life wasn’t too bad, you had someone new to talk to, to try and get your mind off things - but your heart couldn’t help but yearn for George. You looked around the shops thinking of the products he liked, disliked, and what he bought for Ron at Christmas. 

Your date had more to blab about himself than get to know you, he held your hand and bought you a much needed Butterbeer - but he talked so much that he didn’t even get round to drinking his own. The more he had to say, the more he tried to impress you, the more you disliked him, making you fall for George even more. 

Finally breaking out from the busy and overwhelming pub and out into the cold, your date stood in front of you with a strange expression on his face. 

“So?” he shrugged

“so, what?” you stared at him, your patience wearing thin. 

The shared laughter between George and Ron came to a halt when George spotted you with his classmate, he knitted his brows together. 

“Why’s Y/N around that plonker?” he asked his younger brother. 

Ron looked at you then back to George “she’s on a date”

George shook his head “he’s an absolute creep” 

The two of them stared, the student took a hold of your hand and tried to pull you in for a kiss, you pulled away and glared at him, trying to not make a scene. 

“Fucking pervert!” George hissed, storming over towards the two of you “Hey!”

George clenched his jaw, his nostrils flared and his glaring gaze settled on on the lad, he bunched his right hand into a fist and swung, everything went in slow motion as George punched him in the face. 

You were speechless, you didn’t know what to say, all you could do was stare and watch the fight unfold. 

“Stay away from her or my foot will rip you a new one!” George threatened him, he turned to you, his facial expression instantly turning soft.

“th-thank you” 

“you don’t need to thank me love, are you alright?” George searching your eyes with his, full of care and concern. 

Your heart fluttered, his voice, him speaking to you sounded like the most fascinating birds chirping, and his caring face caused fireworks in your stomach to erupt into the sky. 

You wanted to take your chance, ask him out and start over but before you could do any of that, let alone reply, Ron hurried over and interrupted; putting you back in your place and making you remember how his brother felt about you. 

“Proper shiner he’ll have in the morning” Ron laughed “sort your knuckles out George, if anyone sees they’ll send a letter home.” 

The fluttering in your heart died down, the chirping of the birds instantly turning into the most dreadful squawks, and the fireworks in your stomach burning out, starving the embers before they could relight.  

“Thanks again” you murmured quietly, flashing George one last smile before walking away, wanting to retreat to your bed and hide away. 

George had to admit, he felt quite hurt that you went back to ignoring him after he had your back the other week - he knew that you didn’t owe him anything, not even an explanation - but he couldn’t understand why even after making up with Ron, you still refused to look at him.

Sitting on the sofa in the common room in your pyjamas, you flicked through your Quidditch magazine and blinked over and over whilst you looked across the page, sleep trying to pull you in. 

“Georgie, I’ve already said-” 

“Shhh!”

Jolting awake, you looked behind you and stared at the twins, long roles of parchment in one hand and a map in the other, you yawned and rubbed your eyes, closing your magazine. 

“It’s okay boys, I’m going to bed anyway.” you yawned again, slowly getting off the sofa. 

Fred and George shared a look, the older twin nodding his head towards you “go on then, mate, I’ll be upstairs.”

Fred walked past you, he whispered a “goodnight!” and went off to his dorm, leaving you alone with the person you wanted more than anyone in the world. 

George pursed his lips, standing around awkwardly before approaching you “Y/N, can we talk?” he asked softly. 

You nodded slowly, the nerves piping up in your tummy. 

“What’s up?”

“You’ve been ignoring me, love” he said softly “have I done something wrong?” 

This was your moment, not to ask him out - but to tell him the truth. 

You pushed your stray hairs out of your face and sighed, the lad of your dreams standing beside you, looking down on you. 

“I have feelings for you George” you admitted, your mouth going dry “and that’s why I have to stay away from you, because I know you’re never going to feel the same.” 

George went quiet, the embers from the fire spreading and making it set alight, the amber tones coming from the flames resting on his face. He smiled for a moment and licked his lips, looking into your eyes.

“Tomorrow night” he whispered softly in your ear “where we first met”

Tag list: @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @alwaysnforeverfangirl  

[angiethewitch]

All jokes about being an introvert aside, humans are naturally social creatures and we need stimulation. Whether you're self isolating or your city/town/country is on lockdown, this will affect your mental health if you don't take care of yourself. I know we all joke that we never go outside anyway, but the fact we can't go out, even if we want to, is going to affect us. So I've compiled a list of things to do!

Clean. Cleaaaaaaan. Being in a clean house will make this so much nicer. If you're stuck in your house all day, being in a clean home will help. Plus, it's good exercise.

If you have a garden and can go in it, do! Plant some stuff for spring, tidy it up, feed the birds, whatever.

If you have a Netflix watch list, go through it. Watch stuff in the background while cleaning or something.

If you're sick, change your bed. I've been in bed a lot and I just changed it and it's nice to have fresh sheets instead of my sweaty ones.

Take up a craft. Go on pinterest and diy some shit.

Watch documentaries

Change out of your pyjamas, even if it's just into a hoodie and some sweats. You'll feel better.

If you have schoolwork to do, do it. I know, it's boring, but itll kill some time.

Paint, collage, sketch. Try and improve your skills. Get creative!

Call your family and friends! Facetime or phone. Call your mum, your auntie, your best friend, whoever. We're human and we need contact.

Rearrange your furniture, create a new environment.

Have a clear out of clothes you don't wear anymore

Read!! Read books you haven't read yet or reread your favourite books. Get lost in a different world.

If you're not in school, perhaps teach yourself something. I like to study stuff in my own time. Botany, human evolution, space, anything. Learning stuff is fun when you're not getting graded on it.

Fuck it, learn a new language. Go on omegle or something and talk to people from different countries and test your skills.

Bake, cook, make something. I recommend bread. I have a recipe under my #angie talks tag.

Support small businesses. I'm on a group chat with fellow shop owners and they're all worried about the sales going down. I know, right now you're worried about needing necessities, but shop around on etsy and buy birthday presents, diy kits, jewellery etc. You'll make their week.

If you're sick, open the windows. Its recommended for coronavirus anyway but its nicer to be in bed with the window open.

Watch nature outside your house. For like half an hour today I watched birds. I counted 56 this morning.

Make your own natural remedies for your symptoms. If you're on any medication, as always, check for interactions.

Nap

Put on loud music and dance. Get your blood flowing

Check out home workouts on YouTube. Keeping active boosts your immune system and itll pass the time

Make stuff out of trash. Pinterest is full of diy crafts, my favourites are bird feeders out of bottles and planters out of bottles.

Get into your sewing pile and mend clothes

Embroider funky patches

If you're quarantined with family, chat to them. Suggest a family movie night or break out some board games. My husband refuses to play chess with me because I'm too good at it, I've never lost a chess game in my life

Chat to people on tumblr

Journal how you feel or vent to someone. Its frustrating being stuck inside

World build! Make maps of imagined places

Upcycle your clothes and make them look cooler

Make a bucket list

That's all the suggestions I have for now. If anyone is interested in more recommendations for books/movies/shows/stuff to learn, let me know!

Please, look after your mental as well as your physical health. Stay in touch with people, we need togetherness in these times, not isolation. Stay safe, stay healthy♥️

[mayans-sauce]

Gemma’s Daughter (1/?)

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Cursing, angst, yelling, cheating, heartbreak, physical fight

Request by anon which you can find HERE

A/N: thank you for the request! Sorry it’s a little late. I changed it up a bit by having Jax and Gemma still be alive as well as some other things. I’m really happy with how this turned out so I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it <3

Sign up HERE to join my taglist!

GROUP CHAT for updates!

Gif Credit: @pedropcl

This was the third time Angel’s phone went straight to voicemail. It was the middle of the night, and he said he would be home 3 hours ago for his and your movie night which at the end of it, you would share some thrilling life-changing news. You were worried sick about him not returning your calls, worried that something serious had happened. What if he was hurt? Or worse, dead? You decided to shoot him a text; maybe he was doing something important, making it so he couldn’t pick up right now.

📲 Angel😇

Baby, where are you? I’m worried! Please just let me know if you’re safe ok? I have something exciting to tell you. Love you❤️

You texted some of the other guys. None of them had heard anything from him. They told you not to worry. He was probably caught up with something and would turn up eventually. Luckily your brother Jax picked up when you called. You asked him for some guidance on if you should sound the alarm or wait until Angel gave off noise. Since he was in the same life as your husband, you figured he would know what’s best. He told you better to wait. That he was most likely dealing with something that had taken his full attention. If he didn’t turn up tomorrow, Jackson said he would take the drive over to help you look for him. You were so thankful for your big brother. He was always there to help you whenever he could. To protect and love you.

You refused to go to sleep before he came home or before he called you, so you knew he was safe and sound. Some movie was playing on the TV that you didn’t pay much attention to. The battle between you and your eyelids was still going strong. All of a sudden, you were woken up from your zombie state by the front door opening and closing. Footsteps that belonged to no other than Angel made their way into the dim-lit living room.

“Angel!” His movements were sort of clumsy. A sign that he had been drinking. You came to stand at his side. Holding him up by his forearm as it looked like he was going to faint face down ass up on the floor any second. Your nose scrunched up at the strong smell of the alcohol on him. “Angel, I was worried sick! Where were you?” “I was out with my brother.” His words had a pinch of sluggishness in them as he spoke. “We were supposed to have our movie night! We haven’t seen each other all week, and this was going to be our evening together.”

“Ugh,” he tugged himself out of your grasp, which took you by surprise. “Why are you so bossy all the time? I’m a grown man. I can take care of myself.” His words started to sting a little, but you didn’t think that much of it. He was shitfaced drunk, and he wasn’t his usual self. “Angel I-“ “No, you listen here, I’m sick and tired of you always going; oh Angel this oh Angel that,” he tried to mimic your voice but failed miserably, “like shut up. Shut the fuck up for one goddamn second in your life and stop being so fucking clingy.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing from him. The tears in your eyes started to build up as you held two protective hands over your stomach. Your mouth was slightly agape in disbelief. “A-Angel ple-please-“ “No, I don’t fucking care right now. I’m leaving.” And just like that, he turned around and walked out. The force of the door slamming shut shook the whole house as you were left with an emptiness inside you.

The tears ran down your cheeks like it was pouring rain outside. Your body trembled at the anxiety and stress you were feeling at what just happened. You looked down at where your hands were laid over your stomach. “I-I’m so sorry li-little bean. I’m so so-sorry, my sweetheart.”

In the morning, you woke up in the worst state you have ever been in. The same clothes as yesterday were still on you. The pounding in your head wouldn’t seem to stop. Your eyes raw from crying, and your throat felt like rough sandpaper. Wrapping the blanket around yourself, you padded down to the kitchen to get a glass of water. As you stared out the kitchen window, you saw your neighbor playing with their kids, which started the production of tears again.

A gasp left you of the sound from the front door opening and Angel’s voice calling for you. You met him in the living room—both of you staring at each other without saying a word. You should be mad at him, shouldn’t you? To scream at him for saying those hurtful things? But for some reason, your heart wouldn’t allow you to do so. You were just relieved that he had come home.

Angel was the first one to break the awkward silence. “Please… sit,” he pointed towards the sofa. You sat at one end while he took his place at the other. His face was in his hands. It looked like he had something to share with you. “Angel… what is it?” Your voice was nothing but a whisper. His eyes locked with yours and his heart broke when he saw what mess he had left you in. “I’m sorry for how I acted. Yelling at you like that…saying things that aren’t true… it’s not what you deserve. I don’t know what came over me and… I have something I need to tell you.” He looked up to you as tears welled up in his eyes. You gave him a slight nod, a sign that he could go ahead with whatever it was.

“When I left in the night, I was supposed to go over to pop's house to sleep. I didn’t take the bike because I was too shitfaced to drive, so I went on foot hoping that it would sober me up… and... I just kept walking and walking until I found myself… not at Felipe’s.” He peeked up to you from where he was looking down at the floor just a moment ago. His heart broke into microscopic pieces when he saw on your face that you knew where his story was most likely going. As much as he didn’t want to finish, he had to. He had to come clean and straight with you. You deserved that much.

“I found myself at Adelita’s place… and… we hooked up.” The silence after he said that was hefty and long. Once again, he was the one to break it. “Querida… it’s the biggest fucking mistake I have ever made in my fucking life. I don’t know what the fuck came over me to do something like that to you… to us.”

He tried to get a hold of your hand, but you pulled away in disgust. You didn’t want him to touch you after he had been feeling all up on her in the night while you were home alone crying yourself to sleep. You had no words, none. Your mouth was opening and closing, but nothing seemed to escape it. “Please say something.” “Where is she?” “I don’t see ho-“ “Goddammit Angel, just tell me where the fuck she is!” The scream you let out startled him. “Sh-she’s at the clubhouse… there was some emergency that needed to be taken care of, and it couldn’t wait till later.”

At lightning speed, you had grabbed the car keys and were out the door. Angel registered what the fuck was going on when he heard the engine's roar from the car. He was quick to his feet and on his bike to try and catch up before you did anything stupid.

Not thinking straight, you barge through the Templo doors to be met with Adelita and the rest of the MC standing over a map planning something. “Sweetheart, you aren’t supposed to be here,” Bishop said with a stern manner. You didn’t hear him. You didn’t care that you weren’t supposed to be in the room. All you could think about was the rage filling you up as she stood there gloating at you. A smug look on her face that you knew where your man had been last night, all cozy and tangled up together in her sheets.

She didn’t expect you to jump her and start beating the shit out of her; she knew you weren’t that type of girl, so it startled her when you did. That’s when Angel walked in out of breath and saw the scene in front of him that had him stand dead in his tracks as he watched. Your hands punched and scratched as you screamed, "I'm the mother of his child, not you bitch! Don’t ever touch him again!” You didn’t register what you said, and now everyone knew. She tried to fight back, but you were much more powerful than her.

It took the guys a few moments to pull you off as they were in sheer shock at what was going on in front of them. You were usually a shy and sweet girl that wouldn’t even hurt a fly. They were surprised that you so quickly took her down. Once pulled off, Taza escorted Adelita out since it was time for her to leave. “How in the fuck did you do that?” They almost said in unison. "Jax may be my brother, but my mother is Gemma, and you definitely don’t want to fuck with us.” You knew your mother would be proud of you for standing up for yourself and for putting that bitch in her place.

“Wait… you’re pregnant.” “Yes, Angel, I’m fucking pregnant, and you’ve just fucked up our whole relationship, our future.” The tears that were threatening to spill were managed to be put under control by your choice of not showing any of them how you truly felt, sad, empty, alone, and betrayed by Angel’s choices of thinking with his dick and not his fucking brain.

You were about to storm out when he grabbed you by the forearm. “Wait, please… we can fix this! Please let me fix this dulce.” “No, Angel,” you twisted your arm to get loose of his grip; the touch of him made you cringe, “the damage has already been done. I can’t fucking stand to look at you. Not now. I’m going home… I’m going home to Charming for a while.” And with that, you left Angel there to mend his broken pieces at losing the two of you…

To Be Continued

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Thank you for reading❤️ A quick reblog and feedback would be so appreciated❤️ Let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist.

MAYANS MC TAGLIST: @blessedboo @60shannon @bellisperennis0 @capnsaveahoe @diaryofkali @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @xvvalx @missswritings @theocatkov @pinguinstudiert @chibsytelford @encounterthepast @rawrlittlepanda-95 @beeroses @siriussnape07 @adaydreamaway08 @miss-nori85 @oldstuffnewstuff @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @jatriciaaa @browneyes912 @cole-winchester @blackksunflower12 @phoenixhalliwell @cant-decide-at-this-moment @love-mesome-me @holl2712 @jennisdirtyimagines @balladbloodwrites @lilacyennefer @smallflower16 @marvelmaree @brwnlikefoxy @kaylaygrace @stupiddsapphicc @violet624 @boomclapxox @mijop @macgruberrr @queen-under-the-shire @missihart23 @vixemi @heeeeeres-saint @paintballkid711 @x-goddess-of-nature-x @angelreyesisdaddy04 @mrsmarvelous1995

ANGEL REYES TAGLIST: @spnaquakindgdom @Negansnympho89

[uelden]

Vanity Fair interview translated

Just a side note before the actual translation; I don't know why, but instead of reporting the full questions and answers in full as she should, the journalist decided to report only summarized fragments of what Måneskin said and patch these fragments up into messy clusters. She also worded a couple phrases in a very confusing way (and yes, she's fully Italian). In short, she did quite a poor job, so the final shape of the interview is not that good. I didn't expect top-tier journalism from Vanity Fair but ffs. You'll see what I mean.

I translated it as it is, adding just a couple footnotes to give you insight on Italian pop culture references.

Translation under the cut

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

by Lavinia Farnese, 09 June 2021

"True justice is being judged for what you do and not for what you are." The ones who are convinced of this are Damiano, Victoria, Ethan and Thomas who, by being the emblem of a generation that is finally free, refuse labels and conformism. In life, in love and on the stage. Where, maybe precisely because of this, they're winning everything

With the still unexpected (first place at Sanremo Festival) and the incredible (triumph at Eurovision) in their eyes, Måneskin are on the sofa of the house-studio they rented - to resume writing songs and rehearsing them - like you are after a won battle: lying in a calm and unreal silence, alert and a bit irreverent, happy.

In the garden there's the tennis table and the pool, the light of summer when it's starting and calming the country all around, and it filters inside from the large windows, and it goes onto the shining black of Ethan's hair, which blends with Thomas' eye shadow and the butterfly he has tattooed oh his naked forearm, which completes the picture of Victoria's golden crucifix hanging between neck and tank top and ends on the black nail polish of Damiano's stretched hands.

It's a human fresco, a Theatre of wrath [translator's note: "Teatro d'ira"] - to call it with the title of their latest album, a platinum record already - where their flaunted 20 years of age, their irregular femininity and virility are grown into proud and challenging custom, a pop glam rock generational manifesto of hard-earned liberties in a finally-unconditional expression of the self.

To watch them from any angle and from another age is to think that a great love will be born in those who'll understand: this new way of being in the world, the true and sovereign realm they hold where "diversity=exceptionality", the power of the artistic and cultural revolution of which they are healthy carriers in establishing in all lyrics and gestures the right to live according to one's own nature past the "people (who) talk, the people (who) unfortunately talk, and don't know what the fuck they're talking about." [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

We go where we're afloat, where the air isn't gone. [tn: journalist's own variation on "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

Miley Cyrus says hi – The numbers of a phenomenon

"The streams of Zitti e buoni are growing by the second, and they bring us above Muse, at the top of English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. Followers almost tripled, in the post-Rotterdam period (from 1,4 to 3,3 millions, ed.) Contagious and universal folly: t-shirts and merchandising sold out in 10 minutes. Like the records, the tickets for a tour that keeps adding dates and expanding over geographic maps. They're contacting us even from some festivals were The Rolling Stones went." Thomas

"After the pretextual controversy over cocaine that France built against us, later disproven by my drug test, some graffiti popped up in Spain depicting me as a “No drugs” poster guy. Some tweets made us laugh: "Congratulations, Italy! I've never been more certain that four people have had sex with each other." Miley Cyrus started following us -You're great. -You guys are greater." Damiano

From the garage to the stars – Story of a flight

"It was only 2016, and we played in restaurants, in the streets, in via del Corso. Damiano without even a microphone, Thomas' guitar with wonky strings, Ethan was drumming on a cajón. During Rome highschools' sit-ins (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first confirmations and half-hours of celebrity, playing among those who criticized us and those who went "wow they're really cool." One of the rare times when they would have paid us – 50 euros each – we gave the money to the next band in the lineup so that they would make us play in their spot, later in the day, when there would have been more people. We had already realized how things worked. Visibility mattered more than money. And we still think that." Victoria

The intimacy of rock – Choice of a genre

"Music allows us the miracle of extending to others some very personal and private topics, sometimes even difficult and thorny ones. They are and they remain deeply your own, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage that is alike a delivery, they find a place in you as well, a processing of them. You overcome them, you accept them. One second it's something aggressive, the next it's a ballad. Cathartic». Damiano

Against panic – The stage as therapy

"I've suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it's an issue I've worked on thanks to a psychotherapy course, my friends and my family. Playing helped me in not letting myself be paralyzed by my fears, not making myself limited in my private and professional life. I've learned to accept, to live with this side of myself. I don't hide it. I don't feel ashamed of it." Victoria

Analysis as necessity – Relying on someone saves you

"This belief that only madmen go to the psychologist is a widespread ignorance. No-one's born learned. [tn: common Italian saying] And it's often hard to understand the very reason why we're here, let alone the origin and direction of our desires. It's a long and legitimate journey towards lucidity, a kind of backing to become transparent." Damiano

Being out of our minds – But different from them [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

"When you feel a strong passion towards something that is not a canonical job but an artistic language, that already puts you on a level of anomaly, which is not superior or inferior to other people, but it puts you in the position of the one who breaks the mold and also works at a loss, the one who sustains great risks while trying to do something that who knows if it will take you anywhere. "Why do it if it doesn't pay?". You want to give this dream of yours an aesthetic, but it becomes "You're dressing so weird! You must be gay!" - now that I'm 22 I laugh about it, but when I was 17 it had an effect on me, too." Damiano

The beauty of uniqueness – Of believing in it and defending it

"And I mean, at the end of the day if we're all different it's not because we want be alternative but because, really, no-one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty." Ethan

Fluid sexuality – Pride is freedom

"Heels for men that like themselves in them, kisses among ourselves, we have an open, extended mind, and we're proud of it. The horizons become vast, past the oppression of conservative families. With the information on the web knowledge becomes greater and with it the possibility that minorities will be less and less minorities, because the majority will be less of a majority. This way we'll make insults and bullying grow quieter. If social media get to a village of 50 souls and reveal to a girl who's afraid of the dark that someone has felt her same fear, then there's no reason to give a name to that fear, to mark it with labels which also limit and restrict. Definitions always had this effect on me. You shouldn't even consider the gender when judging someone, let alone their orientation." Victoria

Sexism – A culture to be dismantled

"Emma [tn: Emma Marrone, Italian singer] drops the bomb: “At Eurovision when I was there they massacred me for a pair of shorts, while they said nothing to Damiano – bare-chested and in heels.” The easy judgment against women is more fierce, constant, debasing (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool while Vic is a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader while Vic is despotic and a pain in the ass who reached success because she's hot.) As a male I'm privileged, the abuse I get is not comparable to those a woman has to live through, the comments over my aesthetic are centered only on my aesthetic and don't insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thought in a systematic way. It happened though to find myself standing with a woman who while pulling me to herself to take a selfie, started licking my face out of the blue... I mean, what the hell do you want? Who asked you? Consent exists, and it's due." Damiano

Grow yourself – The only commandment

"To me conformism is the opposite of education [tn: could also mean "politeness"] and is the asphyxia of expression. I fortunately never endured heavy bullying, heavy enough for the the judgement of others to change me. But the mold of the small crumbs of bullying I got and of the kind of aggression that scars is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and likes dolls you have to let me do what I like. I was a kid who wanted to keep his hair long and played with Barbie. As a teen, my friends looked at my hair: " You have to find a girl with short hair to be at your side." My grandparents took away my dolls: "Stop it, they're not for you." Ethan

"When I was six I was already sick of them, the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things that were typically defined as girly, and all around me they mocked me because I went skateboarding, I played soccer, I didn't wear skirts, I was giving myself the chance to be as I wished. I endured it a little, I suffered a little, but I had courage, and now thanks to that courage I know that I could have gotten even much more hurt, otherwise I would have left to others the most important choice: the one about myself." Victoria

Love in progress – Music, girlfriends

"I've been married to music for the last 20 years. I can't wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary." Ethan

"Everyone makes their own experiences, sometimes it goes well, sometimes it goes wrong, but it's always not anybody's business." Thomas

"When I first felt feelings and attraction towards a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage of going beyond the limitations I had put for myself. For society being heterosexual is the norm and so you often define yourself in that way automatically, depriving yourself of the freedom to live many shades and faces of love. Once I overcame the initial insecurity of having to call into question my certainties I've lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone." Victoria

"I had paparazzi at my door every day and night. So, after four years of relationship, I revealed her name. I still have paparazzi at my door every day and nigh, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore." Damiano

The worth of the group – Phenomenology of protection

"The true engagement though, the true family is among ourselves, our band. We've believed in it since day zero, even before we called ourselves Måneskin (Moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon on the flier for the first concert we ever did. We share everything, even the pain for the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because of racism. [tn: I think the journalist asked them their opinion about Seid Visin's death, which was a current events topic in Italy, and then pasted it syntaxically in the middle of Thomas' answer, which was not a great move] A group is what we all should be: stay united and not back down an inch in the face of oppression that is generated by a distorted view of diversity." Thomas

I'm not of the right age – Like Gigliola [tn: Gigliola Cinquetti won Eurovision with her song "Non ho l'età", which means "I'm not of the right age"]

"Before you the only one who won both Sanremo and Eurovision on the same year was Cinquetti (1964). If there's anything I feel I'm not of the right age for? No, honestly no. Maybe having children. Regarding children I'll be honest: I'm not of the right age." Damiano

Having touched the sky – The fears that remain

"We're more than inside the dream, we're in the conquered dream. When you fly high there's the risk of plummeting and hurting yourself, but we'll work hard not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - a bit pretentiously - reassures us rather than scaring us." Damiano

[slasherrabbitmadness]

Sinclair Brothers Au X Reader (F)

Highschool Au with the Sinclair Brothers. Fluff and Angst. Bo mentions sexual stuff but in a joking manner.

They have a crush on you while you're dating someone else.

SFW, Fluff, and Angst.

Bo Sinclair - Female Reader dating Lester

He hated this. His stinky, stupid little brother just had to bring his girlfriend over. You’re supposed to be his girlfriend. You just never got the memo.

Lester had the biggest smile on his face as you and him sat next to each other at the dinner table. Vincent wasn’t paying attention, too engrossed in his gumbo and comic book while Bo sat there shooting daggers at his brother. Thank god Bo is always in a pissy mood around his family, they thought nothing of his sneer.

Bo watched with fury whenever he caught Lester leaning in close to you. His brown eyes look at you with adoration. Could tell when Lester ran his hand up and down your thigh, thinking he was being slick. Amateur.

“Y’know, Y/N, ever since you’ve started dating Les, he’s been showering. See Trudy, told ya it’d take a girlfriend to get him to act human.” Lester went bright red and looked down in embarrassment.

“Victor! What you mean is it’s nice to see Lester so happy he’s just showing us all just how happy.” Trudy knew what Victor said was right, just it broke her heart to see Lester’s face fall at his words.

“Let’s hope it lasts,” Victor mumbled.

“It won’t,” replied Bo.

“Beauregard! Can you not?” Trudy fumed. Bo stood up from the table not wanting to be a part of the awkward tension that was dinner. He stole a glance at you as he walked away. He swore he saw it, that look. The look of “Please don’t leave.”

He lied in bed, not wanting to listen to your laughter downstairs, Lester singing your praises, how you both planned on going out Friday night for another date. Fuck.

That night it was Vincent who went to Check up on Bo. Your Twin will just know when something is off.

“She looked at me, y’know. I could read her eyes. She didn’t want me away from her.” Bo said with a smug knowing tone. Vincent shook his head and signed,

“She probably felt bad, felt awkward, it was her first time here.”

“Ya, well, let’s hope it’s her last.”

Vincent turned towards the door. He slumped his shoulders. Bo took in what Vincent was staring at. His stupid stinky little brother. Lester’s eyes, usually so vibrant, were downcast, a little glossy even.

“...Just because you hate her, Bo…” Lester couldn’t finish before he walked away from his older brothers, cursing himself for not sticking up for you.

Vincent gave Bo a knowing look and left.

Bo stewed on his bed, remembering when he first fell for you. Mrs. Power had partnered you up in science class. Bo wasn’t the best partner, he never did the work but he sure could make you laugh. When you first laughed at one of his jokes, be it from genuine humor or just being nice, Bo fell in love.

Then why didn’t he ask you out? Why did he have to date those other girls instead of you? Would be an ass to you in front of his friends but sweet on ya when it was just you and him. Why did Lester have to bug him at his lockers? Lester had immediately taken a shine to you right then and there. Why did you have to fall for his stupid stinky little brother, the one who used axe body spray like a shower? The weird one who collected roadkill and was friends with the employees at the dump.

How in the hell could his brother think he hated you. You. Warm, funny, kind you.

Bo doesn’t hate you. He wishes he did...

Lester Sinclair - Female Reader dating Metalhead Vincent

Lester made his way to Bo’s truck. Dodging past his peers and moving cars, Bo always parked the furthest away in the student parking lot. He wanted his car right at the exit so he could get the hell out of school asap.

“Hey, Bo!”

“Hey, Rat boy.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that.”

“What? You are our Rat boy.” Lester hated his brother. But he was Lester’s ride home so he never pushed a disagreement too far.

The two stood in awkward silence just waiting. Bo broke the silence with a huff. “The Freak is probably three deep in her right now.” Normally Lester would laugh at such a crude remark but it involved you. He didn’t want to treat you as some faceless girl the guys joked about being ‘loose’

“That freak better hurry up, he has a doctor’s app in an hour. And Dad likes it when a patient gets there early. Crotchety old man…”

Lester just stood there, remembering the last skin graft surgery and how the skin didn’t take to Vincent at all. Vincent tried his best to hide the pain, the physical and mental, but late one night he could hear his brother sobbing a room away.

“You know since he started dating, Y/N, he’s been less nervous about these appointments. Fine by me, I can’t stand when his ass gets all moppy.”

Lester knew what Bo meant. Bo got just as nervous as Vincent and vice versa. It was some weird twin thing they shared.

“There’s the fucker!” Bo pointed you and Vincent out. Lester had seen you and Vincent countless times together and every time he saw you both it felt like the first time all over again. That twist in his gut and pain in his throat. He remembers the first time he saw you with Vincent. You were acting all shy around Vincent’s metalhead buddies. They kept patting Vincent on the back,

“Good job, man!”

“Didn’t think you’d get a cute one.”

“Hey, Y/N, got any friends?”

Vincent wore his wax facial prosthetic covering most of his face but Lester knew that his brother was as red as a tomato.

Lester remembers meeting you in geography class. In the same group tasked to map out the local park. You and Lester buddied up, mapping the wooded trail. “Oh, Lester look, frog bones!” You quickly covered your mouth, embarrassed at pointing out something so weird but Lester fell in love. A girl into vulture culture? Perfect. You and Lester looked around for more bones, finding none. You handed him the frog skull. “Here, a memento of this weird day.” You smiled as you said it, Lester knowing you wanted to say more but fear of sounding sappy took over you.

Lester should have known it was the beginning of the end of the night you stopped by to drop off his assignments after he had been sick with mono. Instead of Lester at the door greeting you, it was his long hair, covered in judas priest-like stud bracelets and, Metallica shirt-wearing brother.

“Hi, Vincent! Huh, these are for Lester, do you mind giving these to him?” Lester wanted to scream out to you but with his groggy state wouldn’t allow it. He had no idea what Vincent was attempting to say to you, Vincent could speak but it was horse and quiet. Lester fell back asleep, your laughter from downstairs should have been soothing, should have made him feel better, but knowing it was because of Vincent…

You and Vincent were hand in hand making your way to Bo’s truck. Bo wore a straight face while Lester hid his disdain. “Hey, Lester!” You shouted with a smile! Damn it, Lester tried to hide his blush, he turned his head around to make sure you didn't catch it.

“Y/N, wanna ride home? If so, hurry up, Candle Head has an appointment.”

Vincent flipped Bo off and helped you into the truck. You snuggled together in the back seat of the car, Vincent nuzzling into your hair and murmuring sweet nothings.

Bo gave Lester a look, smirking at Lester’s scowling.

Vincent grumbled as Bo pulled up to your place. He tapped Bo on the shoulder and Bo nodded, understanding his brother without words.

Vincent walked you to your door, his large hand holding yours. You kept looking up to Vincent, smiling and giggling.

“Les, you can stop scowling.” Said Bo.

Lester grumbled.

“If it helps you, do it for now. Just learn to get over it. Vincent has never been happier. When Candle Head is happy, I feel it. When he’s sad, I feel it. So just let Vincent have this. Besides, you chickened out on asking her.”

Lester ignored his brother and watched you and Vincent. “Oh shit, haha, Hey Candle Head! Nice one!” Bo shouted out the window to his brother, making Lester’s ear ring in the process.

Lester watched as Vincent removed some of his wax prosthetic and gave you a deep kiss. His stomach churned, his heart stopped, his head felt full and his left ear was still ringing.

Bo was right. Lester had chickened out. He had so many opportunities to ask you out but his insecurities got the best of him. He couldn’t be too mad, Vincent was happy for the first time in years. He’d learn to be happy for his brother, but not happy at losing out on you.

Vincent Sinclair - Female Reader dating Bo.

“Hey, Vin, want some? Vin?” Vincent stared intently, eye not leaving you. Lester spoke up “Hey, Candle Head?” Vincent whipped his head at his little brother, he had his prosthetic on but Lester knew he was scowling. “Hey, got yer attention. Want some of this?” Lester shoved a funnel cake in his brother's face. Before Vincent could react “Well, too bad, you’ll have to get yer own.”

God, Vincent hated his brother sometimes. Speaking of brothers. Bo had you under his arm, shouting over your head to one of his friends “Ya, see you later, no, much later, I’ll be busy!” He leaned down to kiss your cheek “Busy with you, Dollface.” Vincent loved your laughter, just hated when it was Bo who made you laugh.

“Hey, Candle Head, gotta fiver?”

“Bo, don’t call him that, it's mean.”

“It’s a family thing, Candle Head don't mind, right?”

“Stop it, Bo!”

Bo scoffed at you and sneered at Vincent. “I’m gonna bum us some food.” He said to you as he kissed you on the forehead. Bo slammed his shoulder into his brother as he walked by. Vincent stood firm, his wider frame feeling nothing against his brother.

Walking up to Vinny you placed your hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for him. I know he’s your twin but he still doesn’t have to be that mean.” Vincent shrugged his shoulders, hands deep in his pockets. He fought the strong urge to pull you into him, hold your head into his chest and never let you go. He hated himself for being so sappy over you but he really couldn’t help it.

Vincent remembered when he first met you, the school library after class time. He was looking for an art history book. He saw you in the same aisle, grabbing scanning for what he remembers was ‘a book about frogs’ It was for your science class. Vincent walked over to you, did his best to speak, and ask what you needed. You excitedly told him, which shocked him. Mostly because, even though he talks to girls, they are never happy to talk to him. You rambled on and on to him, how annoyed you were at your stupid science partner, Bo. Vincent laughed, explaining to you that was his stupid brother.

“I feel like an ass. Sorry.” You sighed and hid your face behind your hands. Vincent assured you that it was okay and Bo is an asshole. If Bo was an asshole, why did you have to start dating him?

He remembers when Bo snapped at you in the hallway, the embarrassment was all over your face. Remembers when Bo stood you up on a date. You came into school the next day cussing out Bo. He called you a bitch and from that moment on he found a new sense of hatred for his twin.

“Hey, Candle Head, get yer own girlfriend, Babe, get over here.” Vincent gave you a sad look as you returned one to him. You ran into Bo’s arms and he spun you around, careful not to drop the red snow cone in his hand. “See, Babe, Red, so we both can enjoy it.” You giggled sweetly at him, he held it up to you, pushing it into your nose.

“Bo!” You scolded but laughed as he kissed the red juice off the tip of your nose.

Vincent’s feet felt like lead. He wanted nothing more than to walk away and not look at the gut-wrenching scene, but seeing you bashful and just got to Vincent. He’d give anything to have that be you and him. Give anything to go back to the day he met you and ask you out himself.

“Come on, Candle Head, we need one more person for the strawberry twirly ride thing,” Bo called out, gesturing for Vincent to follow. You turned to Vincent and grinned at him.

“Come on, Vinny!” For you, Vincent would follow. No matter how much it hurts.

[froggy-frogz]

could i get um like a loki x gn!reader where the tva uses the reader as like collierateral damage so loki will work with them?

AN: OOOOH, that's a good idea. It's probably going to be a little different from your request because I want to keep it as spoiler-free as I can! Hope you enjoy it! So yeah, slight spoilers for Endgame and ehhh a few maybe? Hopefully not for the Loki series.

Loki x GN!Reader

It had been five years since Loki died. Five years since you watched your beloved be brutally murdered by Thanos. During that time a lot had happened. You'd lost so many friends and family members of the Mad Titan and you feel into a deep depression.

An extreme one at that.

You found it hard to do basic tasks, and you really couldn't take care of yourself. It was hard too, seeing your home was now gone. Five years ago you lived with Tony Stark and the rest of the Avengers, and now, well, that's gone to shit.

Thankfully, Peter and his aunt let you stay with them. You had a part-time job so you could at least pay them back for their kindness, but that was your life now.

No longer a superhero. Not even a hero. Just a sad, desperate wage slave.

- - -

Mobius's POV

There wasn't any way that he had seen to get through to Loki. Even after trying to bribe him with a meeting with The Timekeepers. His last resort to get through to this man was to show him his life story.

A bit cliche don't you think? But hey, if it works it works.

For the first part of Loki's Life Story, the God had no reaction to anything. Damn this dude was good, he really did the entire liar persona very well.

It wasn't until another couple minutes in when it showed Frigga, that he finally started to crack.

Damnit, it's not like they could just find the dead woman and bring her here, The Timekeepers wouldn't allow that.

It was interesting, watching Loki's facial expressions as he watched the reel. Mobius quietly took mental notes on anything that popped up, which wasn't a lot.

Minutes had gone by and he didn't have shit to go off of, but as soon as a familiar purple face appeared clutching at Loki's throat that Mobius had an idea.

There was another person there with Thanos, Loki, and Thor that day. [Y/n] [L/n].

"Wait wait wait- Who is this-" Loki cleared his throat before turning to him, his persona dropping for a quick second and Mobius could see that maybe he had some bit of memory of this person.

"They're an Avenger, or, really was an avenger. [Y/n], you probably would recognize them when you were staging your attack on New York."

Loki's eyes flip back to watching the reel, not saying anything anymore, but his body language had changed dramatically, and Mobius suddenly felt a light go off in his head.

- - -

Your POV

Another day, same bullshit.

You had pulled yourself out of bed to pull on your work uniform before being stopped by Peter.

"Any plans for today [Y/n]?" He asks, tugging on his school clothes.

Peter was a good kid, and you couldn't help but feel guilty. Here you are, wallowing in grief when Peter had lost people too. Though you couldn't brew in those thoughts, not right now, not today.

"Nope, just work. You going anywhere with MJ or Ned after school." You comb through your hair, eyeing the kid to see his reaction, and of course, as soon as you brought up MJ, Peter turned a bright shade of red.

"U-Uh maybe, anyway, gotta go, see you later-" Peter quickly excused himself as you snorted. At least you had Peter and his antics.

-

The walk to work was probably the nicest thing about your day, that or coming home to Peter having set up some sort of marathon for you and his friends to watch. You made a mental note to thank him for doing that, it did feel nice.

The New York sun was nice today, and despite the pain throbbing in your chest you couldn't help but smile a bit. You still had people in your life that were special to you, even if they were busy doing their own special assignments or busy with school or-

Your thoughts had gotten the best of you again and somehow, you ended up in a dead-end. Typical. You were a bit spacey, and now you were going to be late because of that.

Before you could even pull out your phone to pull up Google Maps, there was a loud flash of light and you squeak, flipping around to see some sort of portal open up.

"Oh for fucks sake," You curse.

What happened this time?

"Are you [Y/n] [L/n] or [Hero name]?" The woman who had stepped out said.

It's not that you were shocked, but at the very least you were confused. You had stayed out of politics and avenging for so long that you thought you were safe.

"And? What if I am? Who are you?..." You sigh, "Look I don't have time for this-" "Look honey, I don't want to have to get rough with you so just come with us, alright?"

Welp. What other choice did you have?

- - -

You were now being not-so-nicely dragged through somewhere that looked like a freaking office building.

"If you think I'm still an Avenger, guess again, whatever this is, it doesn't involve me." You snort, looking up at the burly woman again.

She looks like she's going to say something before shaking her head, pushing you in front of her, to a man in a shit-colored suit.

"I'm Agent Mobius, please come with me [Y/n], I have someone who you'll be happy to talk too."

Yeah right. You snort as more of the guards who looked like Ms. Snippy Security Guard open two completely massive doors before you get dragged inside.

"Okay what in the hell do you want with me?" You snap as Mobius slaps on some sort of device to your wrist. "I've stayed out of this shit just so I wouldn't have to deal with you people."

"You didn't- Mobius- Is this? [Y/n]?"

Your stomach squeezes, and for a second, you feel as time froze. Looking up to Mobius, you take a shaky breath before looking in front of you.

Oh, Gods.

You feel like vomiting as you stumble backward.

"Oh fuck no, wh.. whatever type of game you people are playing, count me out of it. You sick bastards, why the hell are you trying to fuck with me? He-"

Mobius stops you from continuing, "'[Y/n]. It's not a prank, this is your Loki, well, New York Loki."

You look at him again, and you feel like you're on the verge of tears as you take a step forward. "New York? Like as in-"

"It's been a while hasn't it?" Loki takes a step forward, "For you, I mean. You watched me die? What was it, uh-"

"Five years ago." You gulp, rubbing at your face, "Can I touch you?"

Loki pauses before nodding, and you take your final step forward before getting dragged back, the device on your wrist dragging you away from Loki.

"The h.. hell?" You look to the device, and then back to Mobius.

"Before you two lovebirds start anything, let's talk about why [Y/n]'s here... It's part of your bargain Loki. You help us, and then you two can be reunited, once again. The Timekeepers can make it happen. What do you say?"

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 13

Hello friends we have come to the end of Cult Girl. Thank you all for hyping me up throughout this story and giving me the confidence to actually post my work. Y/n and Hannibal throw a dinner party.

The sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the entire kitchen in that homey mid-morning glow. You were enjoying your coffee and scrolling through an article on your phone.

"Senator Hatch reportedly coughed up his late wife's toe on the floor of the precinct." You read out loud. "Huh. Wonder how that could have happened."

You side-eyed Hannibal, who was contentedly sharpening his knives. Placing a rather large meat cleaver to the side, he met your gaze. "I have my ways."

You finished off your coffee and brought the mug to the sink. "There was no way Theresa was going to survive that night, was there?"

"Clever girl." Hannibal praised.

"You were going to kill her if I didn't, were you?" You felt a smile coming on. "Did everything turn out as expected?"

"Darling, this all went much better than I could have ever hoped for." He smirked. "See, I had the whole evening mapped out. I was hoping you'd be the one to deliver justice and kill her, but I had to prepare for the possibility that you wouldn't."

You folded your arms and leaned against the island. "Is that why I was so sick that day?"

You could have sworn you saw some hesitation in Hannibal's face. Maybe even a touch of regret. "Yes. You needed an alibi. It was as easy as removing a single birth control pill from your packet. You'd see it was missing and think you'd already taken your medicine-"

"So I'd neglect to take my focus meds." You cut in. "Yeah, I knew something was off."

"By the end of the day, you'd be experiencing full withdrawal symptoms." Hannibal nodded. "I don't take any pleasure in upsetting the delicate balance of your brain chemistry, and for that I am sorry. I did what I had to."

"Yeah, don't ever do that again." You ordered, no disarming smile in sight. "I need those meds to function."

"I promise you, darling," Hannibal said, sincerely. "I would never keep you from being anything but your very best. I was just looking after you."

"I suppose now that all this is out in the open, you won't need to pull any shit like that again." You muttered. "But I'm still going to keep my pills at my apartment."

"That reminds me." He said. "Would you like to invite your roommates for dinner tonight? I've prepared a wonderful Spanish-inspired menu that's perfect for entertaining."

"I'd love for you to meet my friends, but, they all keep such weird hours I doubt they'll all be free tonight." You shrugged. "I'll give them a call though."

"Wonderful." He smiled. "You make arrangements while I prepare the kitchen."

You stepped into the office and called up Pilar. She answered within the minute.

"[F/N]!" She near shouted. "Holy fuck, how are you doing?"

"I'm actually doing..." you looked back into the kitchen, watching your beloved Hannibal in his element. "Really well."

"I heard about your cousin." Pilar cut in. "One down, two to go."

You snorted. "No fucking shit."

"Sorry, was that okay for me to say?" She apologized. "I know you said Theresa was a bitch, but it's your trauma and I-"

"No, you're fine." You laughed. "She was a bitch. Hey, do you have any plans tonight?"

"Uh, no. I don't think so." She answered. "Why?"

"Hannibal wants to invite you all for dinner tonight." You said with an audible smile. "Y'know, to celebrate the bitch's death."

"Yo! Steph!" Pilar shouted across the room. "Wake Randy up! We're having dinner at [F/N]'s rich boyfriend's house!"

You could make out Stephanie's voice in the background. "It's about damn time. We've been waiting for her to redistribute the wealth."

"She means thank you for the invitation." Pilar corrected.

"It's not like I had to twist his arm or anything. It was his idea." You chuckled. "He loves having guests. And excuses to dress up."

"Oh so we're getting fancy, huh?" Pilar's voice turned up in excitement.

"Hey [F/N]!" Randy snatched the phone from Pilar. "Text me the menu for tonight. My girlfriend'll steal a nice bottle of wine to pair. She's a pro, she works over at Cavatappi's wine and spirits."

"Much obliged, Randy." You said. "I'll see you guys at seven."

You returned to the kitchen with a smile. "They're coming."

"Well, we don’t have a moment to lose, then." Hannibal placed something wrapped in butcher paper on the counter. "Come now. Let me show you how to properly prepare a heart.

You and Hannibal spent the rest of the morning and the whole afternoon preparing a bountiful meal. You reveled in the irony of finally finding a space for Theresa in your life. That space just so happened to be on the stove.

Seven came far too quickly, but your friends were always a welcome sight. You greeted them at the door with hugs, Hannibal watching with stoic adoration.

"Guys, this is Hannibal Lecter, my partner." You introduced. "Hannibal, this is Pilar, Stephanie and Miranda."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, ladies." Hannibal greeted. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

"Here you go, Dr. Lecter." Randy handed him a bottle of wine. "Thank you for inviting us."

Hannibal examined the bottle. "Yes, this will pair quite nicely with our meal. Thank you very much. [F/N], could you show our guests to the dining room?"

You nodded and accepted the bottle, given the extra responsibility of pouring. You led your friends to the dining room and wasted no time distributing the alcohol.

"A toast." Stephanie rose her glass. "Too many of history's worst have had the privilege of dying on their own terms. Today, we celebrate the death of one who didn't: Theresa [L/N]."

"She will join her sisters Nancy Reagan and Madame Nhu in hell tonight." You concurred, tapping your glasses together with a series of satisfying clinks.

"Okay, you need to spill." Randy scooted her chair up and leaned towards you. "How the hell did you get away with it?"

"Well, it helped a lot that her husband was already a felon." You teased. "If I didn't kill her, he was going to eventually."

Pilar made a face. "I can't believe it took actual murder to get that latter-day lump thrown in prison."

"Well, the LDS church is a very influential organization with a stronghold on all of Utah." You explained. "There's a long history of legitimizing sex abuse there."

"We know, cult girl." Stephanie laughed. "You remind us every time your pedophile cousin-in-law comes up. Relax and take your victories where you can get them.” 

“Ladies,” Hannibal entered. You rushed to his side to help him with the dinner plates. “Have we ever tried organ meat before?” 

Everyone’s eyes found Pilar. 

“Braised liver is delicious and you guys are just cowards.” Pilar protested. “I will die on this hill.” 

Hannibal smiled and presented your friends with their plates. “You are a woman of good tastes, Pilar. Our first course is Riñones al Jerez.” 

“Kidneys.” Randy translated. “Who’s kidneys are we eating today, Dr. Lecter?” 

He tilted his head. “Theresa’s, of course.” 

“I don’t care whose organs you harvested.” Stephanie said, her eyes rolling back into her head. “This is delicious.” 

You and Hannibal shared a glance and a smile. 

You and your roommates devoured the Riñones al Jerez, then dug into the next serving of heart stewed with chickpeas and olives. You finished off the evening with natillas de leche and a bottle of Sauternes Hannibal just happened to have lying around. 

“This is the first time since like, Keith Raniere got sentenced that I’ve seen [F/N] happy-drunk.” Stephanie observed.

“Or even just... happy." Pilar said, looking at Hannibal. "I'll have some of whatever she's having, please."

"My pleasure." Hannibal poured her another glass of wine.

Your phone began to buzz on the table, capturing the attention of your guests. You didn't even need to look at the caller ID to know who it was. Nobody else in the world had such horrid timing.

"Shit, you've got to answer it here!" Stephanie pleaded. "So we can all give her a piece of our mind!"

You looked over to Hannibal, who you knew was just as curious.

You dragged the answer icon across the screen and put it on speaker. You gestured for your friends to be quiet. "Yeah?"

"Well look who finally decided to pick up." Grandma said. "Thank you for gracing me with your attention. I know you have so much going on right now, you're just too busy to pick up the phone and talk to your grieving grandmother."

"For your information..." you stumbled over your words. "I was interrogated by the police yesterday. I think that counts as having something going on."

"Are you drunk?" Her voice was laced with a disproportionate level of disgust.

"I'm grieving too, Beatrice." You counter. "What, suddenly you're the only one who can drink the pain away? That's not very democratic of you."

"In your state, you shouldn't even be thinking of alcohol!" Grandma scolded. "You of all people should know the effects alcohol has on an unborn baby."

You smacked yourself on the head. Of course Theresa would plant a seed to fuck you over one last time. "Did Theresa actually tell you I was pregnant?"

"It was her last message to me, actually. Anyway, you're coming home." Grandma said, without so much as waiting for a response. "I won't have my great grandchild living in that dangerous city that your cousin was killed in."

You exchanged looks with your friends, who were going through the same combination of emotions as you were. Grandma's words just seemed to fade out as you shared an entire nonverbal conversation with the people around you.

"And you're leaving that terrible, terrible man."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow and looked at you, waiting to see how you'd respond. You knew what you had to do. It was finally time. You did something you should have done a long time ago.

"No." You said, your nerves loosened by the wine.

"What?"

"No. And I mean it." A big smile crossed your lips. "Theresa lied to you. I'm not pregnant. And you have to live with the fact that your granddaughter's last words to you were a blatant lie."

Hannibal looked at you with pride and your friends began to silently gas you up with encouraging gestures. "

"...And that you're the only one to blame for her deception." You continued. "You raised her in your own image."

"This is why I refuse to let you raise my great grandchild with that man!" She wailed. "He's twisted your mind against me! He's made you cruel!"

"Hannibal made me see clearly that you made me cruel." You said with absolute certainty. "You'll never see me again."

"Don't be like your mother, [F/N]." Grandma snarled. "Don't cut people out for trying to help."

"You'll never see me again." You repeated and decided to leave it at that. You ended the call and blocked the number, joined by an eruption of excitement from your friends.

It was finally over. Your life could truly begin.

[justjuiceyboy]

new beginnings

in which Happy is the readers tattoo artist

word count: 1,637

warnings: swearing 

(a/n: I’m basically becoming a blog for Happy, will get back to writing Juice soon, just got this idea and knew I had to run with it. Hope you all enjoy and if you ever want to request my asks are open! Love you all, thanks for supporting!)

———————————

7:45 p.m. The sun was setting, causing an array of colours over the buildings of Charming, lighting up the place like a movie. The air was fresh, warm as it was the middle of July. You strolled along the footpath and kicked a small rock as you walked, to calm your nerves. You had made the quick decision with your friend to get tattoos together on this day. But you were walking alone, friendless.

You were not ever going to get a tattoo alongside your ’friend’ who you had caught sleeping with your boyfriend of two years. Two years and he threw it down the drain. With your best friend nonetheless. You just packed your things as he tried to claim his innocence, even though you caught him in bed with her. You were lucky to find an apartment that day that someone was trying to get rid of. At least you had somewhere to stay, even if the entire situation wasn’t ideal.

You still decided to go through with the tattoo, wanting to use this as an opportunity for new beginnings. 

You were brought out of your daydream by the pinging of your phone, google maps telling you that you’ve reached your destination. You looked around, wide-eyed, not really knowing what to expect. But here you were, standing outside a small shop adorned with a sign stating “Mallen Tattoos”. This was the place you were looking for.

Pushing open the door, you were instantly met with the smell of cigarette smoke and disinfectant. At least they use disinfectant, you thought to yourself, trying not to show any emotion. 

You walked promptly up to the front counter and coughed to get the man's attention. He looked up at you from where he was sitting and gave you a warm smile, accompanied by “You alright Darling?” 

You were insanely put at ease by his kind demeanour and you smiled back at him, “Hi, I have an appointment for a tattoo at 8, booked it a few weeks ago?” He started flipping through a book that was on the desk and stopped, raising a brow, “says here that there’s gonna be two of you?” 

You sighed, having forgotten that obviously, your best friend was in on the booking too. You told that man that it was just you and handed over some ID, hoping he’d still allow you to be tattooed even though it was only one client. You handed over the money for the tattoo in hopes that that may persuade him further. But once again he smiled and got up from his seat, bringing you through a small hallway to a spacious room with four big leather chairs for tattooing. He gestured to one of them and you sat down.

He brought over a clipboard full of waivers for you to sign and then spoke once again. “Oh, I forgot to tell you Miss, but the artist you wanted, well, he’s sick today. Real bad infection! But anyways, we have a different guy here who gets tattooed all the time, very talented too, if you’ll take him instead?” You could tell he was nervous as to how you’d react. You’d spoken to the other artist on the phone and he’d done practice drawings of the tattoo and sent them to you so you were pretty nervous to let a new artist just take over but before you could weigh up the pros and cons you just nodded. New beginnings, right?

He let out a sigh of relief that he had been holding in and apologised for all this which made you laugh. But you stopped laughing as soon as you saw your new tattoo artist.

A tall figure entered the room, walking over to the man who had led you here. They seemed friendly with each other as they talked. Your nervousness was now back in full force as you surveyed the man who was about to ink your body. He was bald and you could see the tattoos going up his arms. He had an extensive collection which you assumed went much further than just his arms but your view was covered by the plain white T-Shirt he was wearing. He was quite scary, never creating a smile the entire time the other man was talking to him. Your tattoo artist was handed a few pages and he nodded after looking through them, finally making his way over to you who was sweating in the leather chair.

“This is Happy! He’ll take great care of you don’t worry! If you need anything you know where I am” the overly jolly man as he waved goodbye to you both and returned down the hall. Happy. The man in front of you was anything but Happy, with his scary look and overly built body. You knew he was a part of the Sons Of Anarchy biker gang.

You finally made eye contact with Happy and your nervousness increased once again. He was a good-looking man and you knew this tattoo could take some time. Being trapped in close contact with a man like this would terrify anyone. Also, he has some menacing eyes that you felt nearly bore holes into you when he looked.

“Do you know where you want it?” He questioned suddenly, you hearing his voice for the first time. Your mind instantly went to the wrong idea of what you want where and you choked out an exclamation of “what?!”

“The tattoo, where do you want it?” He stated not changing his expression. You mentally hit yourself in the face for going to the dirty side of things and once again was only barely able to speak when you said “ribs.”

He nodded and set up with the pre-made stencil as you lifted your shirt over one shoulder, half your body on display now. He focused on the task at hand and lay the stencil whilst you tried to look anywhere else but at him, knowing that he’d make your knees go weak and you’d say something stupid again. 

Once you agreed to the positioning, he began the process of the needlework. This was the first time you’d been tattooed and you didn’t know what to expect in regards to pain. The second he hit the skin, you jumped. He looked up at you and raised an eyebrow and you smile sheepishly so he continued on again. There was no small talk which you were thankful for. You were trying not to make a big deal of it but you could feel every touch, especially when he brushed off your boob whilst doing the linework.

He began filling the shape and shading and you let out a quiet ‘fuck’ and a breath. The man finally broke the silence as he stopped tattooing for a quick minute and rustled around in the pocket of his leather kutte. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes and held it one out to you. Talk about a hygienic practice, but you couldn’t judge right now, anything to take your mind off the pain.

“It helps, especially first time,” he concluded, lighting the cigarette and bringing it up to your lips. You took a drag and felt more relaxed now so he continued on again, placing the cigarette in between his own lips. But this time he kept talking, probably to distract you.

“Why the tattoo?” He asked, without looking at you of course, as he was busy staring at the skin beside your breast. You decided to give in to the small talk, mainly because you wanted to see what you could find out about the man who held a needle to your ribs and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“I booked it with a friend but I found out she was sleeping with my boyfriend so I’m not really sure why I still came if I’m being honest,” you told him, not being wary that you were spilling the truth to a stranger.

“Sounds like a dick” he stated point-blank, making you laugh quietly. “Yeah, she was.”

“Meant the boyfriend. He was obviously stupid,” he mumbles, one eye flicking up to you as he pulled away again. He took the cigarette from his mouth and reached up to you again to let you have a puff. You weren’t sure if it was the air or the cigarette smoke clouding your judgment but the entire scene felt slightly erotic to you now. Hot man, feathery touched on your body and sharing a cigarette between both of your mouths. 

Happy seemed to have unwavering confidence as he watched you take a long drag as he spoke again, “You need a real man.” Now it was your turn to mumble, “beats me when I’ll find one of those.” It only took him another five or so minutes to finish on the tattoo and he then wrapped the area for you in silence.

He wrote a few things on a piece of printed paper and handed it to you, telling you it was just the care instructions and told you how to wash the area. You thanked him and he nodded again, signaling that you can go. You left the room and walked out the door of the shop, waving to the friendly man at the front desk.

The air was now brisk as you turned on your heel, ready to walk home. You were about to stuff the paper into your pocket as you noticed what he wrote at the bottom.

‘If you’re still looking for that real man, call me’

It was accompanied by his phone number and a small smiley face, which in turn made you smile. Looks like you’ll be seeing him again soon and not just for another tattoo. As you said, new beginnings, right?

[jadelynlace]

When You’re Unmatched Art / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU Request [Ivar x F!Reader]

[you can find the reference for the tattoo Ivar did here. He thought he was being slick, but he most certainly was not. Ivar, your feelings are showing!]

catch up on the porno, I mean series, here.

requested by: @quantumlocked310 ♡ 

author’s note: thanks to this post, you’ll all be subjected to the written requests. brief mentions of smut under the cut, and love sick Ivar.

synopsis: Ivar finally figures out how to design your first tattoo.

✎

For this to be Ivar’s passion—his mortal life’s calling—he could not, for all of the seconds in the year, figure out how to design your tattoo. There had never, in his professional life, been a client that had given him complete and utter reign. No simple idea, no nudge in a specific direction, hint of any realm no where on the forefront. You told him to design you a tattoo to take up space on your thigh. And that was it. Even after he declined, saying there must be some idea you had, you shook your head and give him control. Total, and utter control. And it was almost too good to be true.

Ivar knew he was screwed, when an entire sketchbook’s worth of pages went torn, crumpled and tossed into the garbage can with failed ideas. Even Sigurd offered no help—not that he was the artistic hand Ivar needed, he was the needle pusher and piercer. Music selector and unruly greeter. Floki only offered his normal words of wisdom, a way of not answering the question but instead making Ivar look deep within himself. “Don’t think about it much, Ivar. Just let your heart and your mind run freely together.” Great. No help. Both of them were caged in a muddled pile of muck and mud and dead leaves and Ivar couldn’t pull them out.

Through every outing the band of brothers went on, you in tow more often than not, Ivar would be at the receiving end of your questions—how he was coming along with it. You had no deadline, you understood his craft took time, but you were far too excited to see. Then came the first hook up—Ivar driving you home because you were too many martinis in, you inviting him up but he declined because it “wasn’t a good idea, princess” and you told him you “weren’t his fucking princess” and he drove around the block twice before finally knocking on your door. Weight against the frame with his temple kissing it, apologizing playfully for his nickname and you invited him in. A game of truth or dare later, Ivar asked you how drunk you were when it was his turn. And you told him you were sober enough to make decisions, clear ones, and then he dared you to kiss him. You felt like a high schooler again. When it was your turn to ask him and he had picked truth, your one question was the end of the game: 

“If I asked you to fuck me right now, would you?”

“In a god damn heart beat.”

He was more than screwed when you wouldn’t leave his mind, after you rocked his world and he used your name on his tongue to get himself off the next time his left hand was needed. And then he texted you, asking how your day was, that was it. And after a conversation, playful but real, he was over at your apartment with take out and beer and you two watched true crime and Ivar told you he had seen this one and tried to have you guess before the show told you. When you were right he said you were smart, when he silently figured out an equation in his head, how many liters to grams to degrees, or whatever the hell it was, you almost dropped your beer. He wrote it out for you to show you, a near different language across the page through algebra, and you told him he was smart. The tattoo idea clicked then. The minute Ivar realized he caught feelings, the tattoo idea became so visible he drew it in almost an hour.

There was never a nervousness with him when it came to the day of appointments, even with the most picky of his clientele, Ivar took it as it was gifted because he loved his craft too much to have these types of petty things take up hatred in his heart. But you walked through the shop, shortest of shorts on, a pair of flowing pants in your bag for the event that session went longer and nipped off into the chilling night time air, and both a coffee for yourself and a Red Bull for Ivar. He nearly wanted to throw the ink onto the floor because he was scared that once you saw the design, you’d laugh, you’d call him something pathetic and walk out, and it would be the last he’d see of you. Instead he handed you the artwork, and your eyes scanned the image for almost five minutes, mouth agape and holding it as if it were a map to the unknown, hiding gold and jewels and you asked him if you could keep the sketch. Even with it forever on your skin you nearly begged him for the original artwork, saying something about how you wanted to frame it. You’d never seen Ivar blush before, but you were sure he did when you said that.

The session wasn’t short—it was almost his full day’s work of hourly long needle dabs, buzzing and brotherly bickering between him and Sigurd. Intensive talks between you and him, explain to him the less than glamorous parts of your job, the funnier parts and the teenage humor of the men you worked with. Hvitserk’s track record for receiving the majority of patient vomit on every call and you watched Ivar laugh, smile more than you had known him too and you wondered if it was because of the machine in his gloved hand or if it was you. 

Sigurd ducked out right before lunch, picking up with the three of you had ordered and your skin received the welcome break from the on-going buzz. You were quick to kiss Ivar once, lingering lips on his to thank him and he looked shocked for a moment, worrisome that his brother would see before he tossed the fear aside, shoving his tongue down your throat. When it was all said and done, dawned with the artwork on your flesh you couldn’t stop the smile. Neither could Ivar. He’d promised the sketch after he photocopied it for his portfolio and you went home with the sore leg but a full heart. He showed up late, just shy of midnight after cleaning up the day’s worth of work, buying a frame and bringing dinner for the two of you to eat. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of it, even in its red and swollen, tender state, you loved this tattoo, and Ivar took his time treating it for you. Even after his head spent time between your thighs, one hand plastered on the bare skin and the other holding yours. Even after you rode him, artwork in his line of sight and it made him finish quickly; watching the piece on your skin, your palms on his chest as he moved your hips for you. Your head tossed back as you moaned his name when you came, the heavenly sight and you were forever marked with his skill. The after care from the sex went beyond the closeness, holding you as the television played in the background; he spread the lotion over it, his entire hand nearly able to cup your thigh as he made sure to leave no line un-slathered.

“You know I’m going to want another one before this one even heals,” You said to him, craning your neck up to look at him.

“Yeah?” Ivar asked, his hand in your hair. “Where do you think you want your next one to go?”

“On my arm, so I can see it all the time,” You replied, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Who knows, maybe I’ll just cover myself like you do,” You giggled.

“You’re perfect already,” Ivar said through a yawn, his eyes closing, head drooping against yours. “You tell me where you want ‘em, and I’ll do it—but you’re perfect already,”

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[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Home (Four Times Crowley was Lovesick - and Aziraphale Took Care of Him)

Written for @do-it-with-style-events "Who Needs A Great Plan" event, Day 1, prompt "Four"

--

Crawly stood beneath the white wing, watching the rain fall, watching the humans walk away, watching anything but the angel beside him, his smile, the way he furrowed his brow and pouted.

His heart kept doing a funny skipping thing every time he looked that way, which was odd, and made him think he’d gotten some sort of defective body, or possibly that he’d messed something up in the transition from the serpent form.

“You know, I do think this rain might not be as pleasant as I’d hoped,” the angel said, tipping his head back so sopping white curls dangled, dripping onto his robe. “I’m starting to feel a bit cold, are you?”

“Nah. M’adem’n,” Crawly muttered, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

“Well. I suppose we all have our aptitudes.” He reached down to squeeze the rainwater from his sleeve. “I suppose you carry the fires of Hell within you, or something?”

“S’nice.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the angel turn to smile at him and now his heart was doing some sort of backflip, and his stomach attempting to dance. “G-g-gotta keep’m somewhere.”

“I see. I do find myself missing my sword, but I think…” his lips pursed. “I think it’s in the right hands.”

How could he forget the angel had given away his sword.Fucking brilliant.

Crawly sniffed, and the cold seemed to creep into his nose. “M-must’a b’n-n-nice t’have a-a-achoo!”

His body must be worse than he’d thought. His entire face seemed to have exploded.

“Good lord, what was that?” The angel shuffled closer, peering at him, reaching up to poke at Crawly’s nose. “Is this supposed to make that sort of noise?”

The demon braced himself, expecting pain, expecting a reprimand, expecting anything but a soft finger gently massaging the bridge of his nose, pressing lightly as if he might break.

“S’only a-achoo!” Not again. “Achoo! A-CHOO!”

“This sounds serious!” The angel now stood so close that his arm pressed against Crawly’s. “Oh! And your hand!” He snatched it up, gently tracing his fingers across the demon’s palm. “It’s cold! Have your fires gone out?”

“Nnnnnnnnnh. S’th’cold,” he confessed. “S’getting in m’nose.”

“Well, that will not do.” Being careful to keep his wing in place, the angel looped his arms around Crawly’s waist, drawing him into an unexpected softness, a steady warmth. “There. Is this better?”

“Mrgl.” Crawly didn’t look over, even as the angel leaned against him. He shifted his am, putting it around the angel’s shoulders, rubbed his forearm as he rubbed Crawly’s side, but the demon did not look.

It was safer that way.

--

“Then you hold the oyster like this, and—” Aziraphale slurped it out of the shell.

“Ngk.” Crowley swirled his wine, glaring into the cup. “I…maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.”

“Nonsense! Trying new foods is one of the delights of the world.”

“Yeah, but…I prefer foods that don’t smell so bad.”

That made Aziraphale laugh, which made things harder. It seemed to echo in Crowley’s chest, send his heart into answering flutters. He shifted on the couch, but there was only so far he could roll before it was impossible to drink. Which meant he had to keep looking across the table, at Aziraphale’s couch, where he reclined in a rolling curve of soft white toga and ate his oysters and wouldn’t stop smiling.

“Crowley? Are you feeling quite well?”

“Nrgh. Yeah. Why?”

“Because I asked four times how your wine is and you never responded.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t remember, so he drank a mouthful, then immediately spat it out. Salt water and vinegar, same as any Roman wine. “Lousy.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” And all at once, the angel rolled off his couch and now he was crossing the room and oh Satan, he was on Crowley’s.

This was a disaster.

Aziraphale leaned down and rested a hand on Crowley’s forehead. “You do feel extremely warm. Are you ill? I’m not sure a demon can get ill but—”

“Yes! Yes. That.” He tried to sit up. “Very, very ill. I should go. I should go now—”

“But—”

Crowley managed to get his feet under him, and his robe under his feet, and he collapsed again, falling onto something softer than the couch Oh Satan it was Aziraphale’s lap.

“Crowley!” His head turned instinctively and shit, those eyes were so close.

His heart was going to explode, but it was worth it.

“I should…take you home…”

“Ahhhhhhhh,” Crowley managed. Yes. Please. Please, wherever you call home, that’s where I want to be.

“Yes. Right. Immediately. Tell me where you’re staying, and I will escort you back.”

“My…my…oh.” His stomach was doing something new, twisting around itself. Like when he saw the Hellhounds getting ready for a walk, but worse. “M’a’th’p’liss.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m! At! Th—thepalace.” Great. Now he was either shouting or mumbling. Why couldn’t he think?

“Good. Right. Palace.” He slid his arm behind Crowley, supporting him. “Do you think you can walk?”

The demon’s legs had never shaken like this before. “Definitely not.”

“That’s alright.” And Aziraphale scooped him up into his arms, as easily as if Crowley were a child. “I’ll help you.”

--

Crowley hadn’t slept in over a month.

He shouldn’t have needed to. Demons didn’t sleep. But he’d gotten used to it, most nights, and now his task consumed him day and night, driving him to ever more complex plans, ever more desperate measures.

But finally…finally…he’d gotten a bloody crowd to see that gloomy talk-y play.

And just in time. Aziraphale had sent word that he was returning tonight, and he was supposed to meet Crowley here, outside the inn. The demon had rooms above, which had been used for scheming and planning and plotting and not, for a long time, sleeping.

He was fine, though. Running on pure adrenaline, yeah, but that just made life good. He couldn’t wait to swagger into that theater, spread his arms and show the angel—

“Ah, Crowley! There you are, my good fellow.”

He turned his head and fuck, there went his knees. Aziraphale was smiling at him like he was actually glad to see Crowley, and his entire body just stopped obeying any commands or even regular rules of biology. He staggered, legs feeling watery, his head spun, lights brighter than stars flashing before his eyes, and his heart just ached to reach out.

“Crowley? Is something the matter?”

“Mnothang.” Brilliant. He slumped against the wall of the inn, trying to get some sense of reality back. “M’a little tired’s’all.”

“Tired? Are you sure?” Aziraphale rushed forward, cupping Crowley’s face in his hand. “You feel…clammy. I need—can you take your glasses off? I need to see your eyes.”

“Szfiiiine.” But he pulled them off, and found himself again pierced by eyes glowing just a bit too blue to be allowed.

“No, no your eyes are glassy. And—and look, your pulse is racing.”Now came the concerned look, oh Satan, no one else ever looked at Crowley like that. “This…this looks a great deal like the latest plague, I saw several villages struck by it coming back.”

“Angelllll. M’ademon. We don’ get th’plague.” Why could he not just speak normally?

“Nonsense, you know perfectly well you’ve always had a strange constitution, getting sick far too often. You still have rooms here, yes? Upstairs. To bed.”

Will you come with me? The angel’s hand hadn’t moved from Crowley’s cheek, and he never wanted to be away from that touch again. “But…”

“No buts.” The hand did fall away, but only to grip his shoulder, spin Crowley around and propel him forward, through the door, and up the stairs.

Aziraphale walked past the mess in his room, the papers, notes, maps, disguises, and everything else needed to convince a city it actually liked that blasted play. He steered Crowley directly to the bed, and pushed him down onto it. “There. Stay put, please.”

“Nnnnh.” It wasn’t the most comfortable place he’d ever lain, but the rough straw mattress seemed luxurious just now. Something tugged at his foot, and he looked up to find Aziraphale, carefully pulling his shoes off. “Still here?”

“What are you talking about? Where else would I be?” He sounded cross.

“The play.”

“Play? Play? Oh, yes, Hamlet.” He tossed the shoes aside and settled Crowley’s leg back onto the bed. “I’m sure I’ll have plenty of opportunities. I hear they’re planning to run it twice as long as they’d expected.”

Of course they were, Crowley was good at his job. But there was no point if Aziraphale didn’t see the crowd. “Gotta go,” he insisted, though his body was already curling up on itself, preparing for a long sleep.

“Absolutely not.” A rustle, and when Crowley’s eye cracked open again, Aziraphale was seated on the edge of the bed, taking Crowley’s hand in his. “I need to make sure you’re alright.”

“Hnnngh.” But he was far too exhausted to argue. “Why’r’ya’lways…fussing…like y’r worried…”

He didn’t hear Aziraphale’s answer, but in his dream the angel said, “Of course I worry. Whatever would I do without you?”

--

“All them angels,” Crowley shouted, bottle in hand, “an’specially Gabriel, can go! To! Helllllllll!”

“Really? And what about the demons already there?”

“Thas’th brilliant part.” He staggered a little, grinning at Aziraphale. Their celebration at the Ritz had gotten a little out of hand, but in a good way. A way they bloody well deserved. “Th’demons. They go to Heaven. But. But. Buuuuuuut.” He took a long drink, then offered the bottle to the angel, who shook his head. “Wha’was I…ri’ri’righ’—go to Heaven. But. Don’ tell’em th’passwords. For anyfing.”

“Won’t they just figure them out?”

“Nnnnnnnnope! Cuz allll the brains in Hell are right here!” He shouted in the general direction of the office building. “Have fun puttin’…Hastur’n charg’a…stuff…” He tried for another drink, but the wine had all gone. “Awwww.”

“Don’t worry, my dear, we’re nearly home.”

“Ya. S’good.” Home was good. Plants. Television. More wine. The bed. Hadn’t slept all week.

Why was Aziraphale coming with him? Hadn’t the shop un-burned down? Had he left something at Crowley’s flat? A…spare bowtie?

Also: why did Mayfair look suspiciously like Soho?

The penny dropped at about the time Aziraphale got the shop door unlocked. “Thizzisn’ home,” he pointed out.

“Well-spotted. Come on, then.”

Shrugging, Crowley followed. There’d be more wine here, at least, and a sofa to sleep on. Not the most comfortable, but he was tired enough.

Something was different. Crowley squinted at a pile of books, but they remained stubbornly bookish. Ah, well. Sofa.

He slumped on it, waiting for Aziraphale to head to the back room for some wine, or settle into his armchair. Maybe pick up a book to read while Crowley rambled.

Instead, the angel sat beside him.

“Annngiraphel…”

“Crowley. Are you sure you’re feeling well?”

“Course. I’m cebretory. Cerebrorrry. Celebatory. ‘M partying.”

“Yes, I know. But…I just…” Oh, Someone. The concerned, furrowed brow. The pouting lips. The eyes. So much worse than the smile. Good thing Crowley was already sitting, because the room was starting to spin, even before Aziraphale picked up his hand. “I wish you would take care of yourself.”

“Wha? I do. Allllays do. No one else’z gonna do’t. Not’n Hell. Wily demon, righ’?” He tried to smile, even as his heart and stomach started switching places.

“Then why are you always unwell? I’ve lost count of…of how many times I’ve seen you falling over, unable to speak, too hot or too cold.”

“Ssssss’not like that.”

“Yes it is! And…and it was bad enough before. Crowley, we…we’re all we have left. Each other. And…and whatever it is that…that gets you into this condition…alcohol, or illness, or…whatever else. I wish you would avoid it.”

“Can’t.”

“Crowley—” Aziraphale pulled his hand closer, eyes pleading, and for a moment the demon thought he’d just discorporate on the spot. Probably would have if he’d been sober.

“Can’t. S’only one thing tha’makes me…fall orer mysel’. Makes me…can’t speak. S’only evrrr been one.”

Aziraphale’s face was so soft. Crowley couldn’t figure out how his hand had gotten there, pressed to his cheek, but it was good.

Or not. Angel’s eyes went wide. Probably did something wrong. Crowley pulled his hand back, wondering if he’d be kicked out.

“Can you…sober up, dear?”

“Nnnnnnnnnnnnidonwanna.” He wrinkled his nose. Shoulda stopped three bottles ago.

“Yes, I know. But you’ll likely have a hangover either way, and you might as well have it now. And…I want to finish this conversation sober.” Oh, the sad eyes, the serious face.

“Awwwwwtha’s no’fair. S’not like I c’n say no.”

“I…yes, you can. It is your choice.”

“Nnnh. Can’t say no’ta’you.” He looked around for something, maybe a garbage bin or…oh, yes, a planter. Lucky tree was about to get some very expensive alcohol.

He concentrated, pulling all the alcohol out of his body, filling one planter, then another, then another. As the light-headedness faded, the headache came in, pounding and pulsing.

“Glarghl.” Crowley pressed a hand to his eye. “See? Sober. Happy?”

“Not yet. Can you walk?” A light tug on his hand, and Crowley staggered to his feet, trailing after Aziraphale. Up the stairs? They never went up there. Private bookshelves and sculptures and junk.

At the top, Aziraphale opened a door that he’d thoughtwas a closet but actually led to Crowley’s bedroom.

Wait.

Crowley turned around, bleary eyes searching the shop. Plants. His plants. His sculptures. Junk. Also his.

Back to the bedroom. His bed, his furniture. Not his room. Wooden walls covered in bookshelves, good sized window looking out at the back alley. He could just see the Bentley parked out there.

“Th’fuuuuck…”

“I’m…I’m sorry. I should have asked.” Aziraphale gently pushed him towards the bed. “If you don’t like it, I’ll put everything back tomorrow. I just.” A gentle nudge, and Crowley sat on the bed. “I want you close. Where I can take care of you.”

“Don’need it.” He wriggled his toes, making his boots vanish. It was easier than meeting Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Yes, you do.” A hand on his shoulder pushed Crowley down into the bed, his head onto the pillow

It felt so much more comfortable here, in Aziraphale’s shop, with Aziraphale beside him.

“No. Don’t need you to take care of me.” He stared resolutely up at the ceiling, searching his aching head for the words he needed. Swallowing, trying to push aside the pain, the soreness in his throat. “I need…I just need…”

He couldn’t say it. But he reached out, hand groping along the edge of the bed until it found Aziraphale’s, resting lightly on the mattress. Cautiously, Crowley slid his hand on top of it.

“Crowley…please look at me.” His eyes wandered down, following the shelves until they landed on Aziraphale’s face. On his brilliant, angelic smile.

The demon tried to smile back, though his head was pounding. He managed something like a grimace. “Nnnnnnnnh. C’n we finish this in’th’morning.”

“Do you think you’ll be better able to talk?”

“Mrrrf. Will you be there?”

“Of course,” the angel said, nearly indignant.

“Nope. Not a chance.” His thumb traced the back of Aziraphale’s hand. “I can never say what I want. S’not even that many words. But…” Crowley shrugged.

“Can you move over?” Aziraphale asked, sliding his hand out from under Crowley’s.

The demon blinked, confused, and wriggled further along the mattress.

The bed dipped under the new weight as Aziraphale climbed into the vacated space, laying beside him. “I…I could never say it, either. Always something stopping me, some…uncertainty. Even now. But I shall keep trying.” His fingers gently brushed Crowley’s cheekbone. “My dear…would you like to…to make this place…your home?”

“Nh. Shop’s not home.” The fingers jerked away, and Aziraphale’s brow furrowed, not in concern this time, in pain. Fuck. Why was it so hard?

He caught Aziraphale’s hand before it could get far, bringing it back, gently resting it against his heart. “This, Angel. This’s home. You.”

“Oh.” Blue eyes blinked, a look of wonder in them Crowley had felt many times, wonder at this being who cared for him, who stayed by him. Always. “I…I see.”

The mattress shifted again, and suddenly the angel was closer. Which of them had moved? Did it matter? Did anything matter, apart from Aziraphale’s arm across him, all the warmth and softness he could ever ask for, pulling him in, pulling him close, enveloping him as it had that first day.

“Yes. Welcome home, dear.”

[kaijurakunsobs]

The Beauty in Empathy

master list

ya boi took all the time in the world writing this but here we go baby! also...yall get soft!Heisenberg content

⚠ Trigger: Panic Attack, PTSD

Summary: the travel to the village has left you shaken up and unsure of what to do with your life. You lack direction, an objective, something to anchor you give the sense of control, it doesn't matter what, you just need something to control.

It, almost, feels nice to come back to the factory, not carrying for the ache in your limbs or the blisters on your feet, you need to feel safe in any way shape or form, and the closest thing to a safe heaven...is the factory. Where no one can touch you, where Heisenberg's sole presence is enough to ward off unwanted visits, where you could run through the maze of corridors and find refuge in some empty room.

There was so much going on, the euphoria you got that morning over the small win against Heisenberg was gone now, replaced by uneasiness, fear of what you don't understand, of what you had gotten yourself into. But you don't let panic subdue you again, taking deep breaths, you run to the living quarters, crates creaking with the movement, fresh vegetables, and cans making so much noise, you were sure the Lord would come and yell at you, he never comes, not even when you almost throw down the door and begin to scream, he's not there.

It takes you a bit to calm down and regulate your breathing, you feel disoriented, suddenly everything is too much and you begin to get rid of the rope wound around your shoulders and hands, wincing when the crates and sacks do so much noise.

And there you stay with your head pressed against the door and eyes shut, remembering how your mother used to cook and clean when stressed, she said cleaning your living space clears the mind and keeps us sane, cooking fills the soul and your stomach with the warmth of your home.

That makes you get up slowly, moving to the kitchen to clean it and the fridge thoroughly, ignoring your aching and shaking limbs in favor of putting everything away and leaving out some ingredients to make a simple vegetable soup. Taking a cutting board and knife you start chopping and cutting vegetables, casting a glance at the clock in the wall and wondering, when will Heisenberg come back and if you should leave him something to eat.

You are done cooking, letting the soup boil, and slowly make the room smell deliciously, remembering how your mom used to cook this soup when you were distraught or sick, you are distraught indeed, but getting lost in memories of people that don't exist anymore feels...useless, painful, stupid.

All of your attention is brought back to the mess on the table and coffee table, all those blueprints and papers just laying around, feels wrong. Picking up every single one you do quick work of rolling it and placing it upright in one of the crates the Duke used to pack your groceries, carefully stashing papers and placing them with the prints, dropping the crate over the kitchen table, grabbing the broom and sweeping the small living room.

With a prideful smile, you stare at the much cleaner area, serving yourself a generous portion of soup and taking a seat at the table, it tastes just as good as your last meal last night, you feel pleasure by eating something this warm, feeling the heat go down your throat and radiate through your entire chest and bleeding down your body, it's nice a feeling. But the heat doesn't linger long and the cold of the world beyond the factory hunts you.

You lost it all so fast, everything stole away by Miranda and the creatures that attacked you, yes, you have a "home" here and a room, and Heisenberg's presence seems to guard off against anyone coming close to this place, but you have no control over anything anymore, and that's what scares you, the lack of control over something.

Routine...that's a way to control your life, something so easy yet so valuable right now, that you don't fight off the prospect of binding yourself to something as monotonous as routine. You were adventurous and brave, now you are scared and ready to find some resemblance of normality, it might be hard, seeing how Heisenberg seems to be more on the chaotic side, but, starting tomorrow you will need to work on that, you need to reclaim a bit of your life.

For now, the best you can do is rest, tame your emotions, abide by the contract you made this morning, maybe...if you play your cards well, you get more perks or small liberties.

Heisenberg drags you out the next day to finally help him with the ventilation, barely giving you time to eat anything and forcing you to chug your coffee, running after him to not be left behind.

The Lord can see you, scribbling something on one of his old note pads, stopping outside of certain rooms to scan the place and write down more notes, mumbling to yourself about what you will need to fix the room. So you are a planner, he likes that, you could also be faking it in favor of getting on his good side, let's see how well you do.

"Let me get this clear" you sigh putting on a pair of his gloves, looking at the rather shabby board connecting the railway and the hole in the wall where the ventilation duct is visible "I have to go across this, get inside and then find the problem?"

"Yeah, basically" he's looking at you, judging your reaction, half expecting you to back off and run away "Is there a problem, sweetheart?" he leans close to you, blowing smoke in your face

With a huff, you take the cigar from his hand and take a drag and puffing the smoke back on his face, jumping over the railing and swiftly balancing over the board towards the hole "You better find a way to pass me whatever I need, cuz im not doing the trave back and forth every fucking time!"

Karl grins at your boldness, smoking his Cuban cigar like it's nothing, raising a brow when you finish it "Will find a way, don't worry about it"

"You better do, Karl!" turning around you grimace looking at the duct, there's water and cobwebs "This is asinine..."

"You will do amazing, darling!" he screams with a lot of amusement when he sees you climb into the duct, enjoying the view of your ass "way better than I could do"

"Oh, bite me!" you yell back with a bit of humor, quickly crawling to the spot marked on the map he gave you the day prior, only stopping to wipe off the sweat from your forehead and assess the damage "Hey, Heisenberg! We have rats here...seems they been doing a number on the ventilators' wiring!"

"Fucking hell! again?!" there's a moment of silence and you use it to look around, definitely, there are rats here, he should think about acquiring some cats, "Think you can fix it?!" you hear him clearly as you make your way back

"If you have some electrical tape and new wires? I could do it today but the rats will come back and eat the new wiring!" he sees you come back, looking at him expectantly

He waves dismissively, turning around to dig through the toolbox, he swears he saw some spare wires here..."Oh don't worry about that, darling, you fix the wiring and I'll just let the lycans have a feast on the vermin" he says as if you knew what he's talking about.

"The WHAT now?" Heisenberg chuckles at your expression, smiling a bit when he tosses the tape and wire in your direction barely catching them.

"More fixing and less asking, you can meet the pack later after we are done with everything you need to work on!"

You hate the way he's smiling, it makes you shudder and feel weary for whatever he's planning.

And you are right in feeling apprehension, Heisenberg keeps dragging you around, helping you up when the repair it's too high, happily taunting you when he sees you stand on a piece of metal, watching your legs wobble and the slight terror when he screams for you to balance yourself because he's not going to save you if you fall, cackling when you tell him to shove it and balancing on the metal sheet.

At the end of the day, he's surprised at how unbothered you seem at being covered in grease and sweat, nonchalantly cleaning your face with your sleeve "And here I thought you were lying about being a mechanic, color me impressed"

"I told you, I'm a woman of my word, I would never lie to you Heisenberg~" something stirs inside him in the way you smile, cocking your hip to the side, he hates your guts but he gotta admit, you are a sight for sore eyes "This has been a beautiful day and everything, but! I'm in need of a shower and I wanna eat something"

"Not yet princess" you yelp when Karl grabs your shoulders and quickly pushes and guides you "You were curious about the lycans, yes? I think is only fair for you to meet them, seeing how you will be staying here for a long time, it's better if they understand that you aren't food"

"WHAT, WHAT DO YOU MEAN!?" you try so hard to hold onto the door frames, make him stop by refusing to walk, try to walk backwards, only making him grow annoyed and throw you over his shoulder "HEISENBERG I'LL DECK YOU AGAIN, PUT ME THE FUCK DOWN!"

"I would LOVE to see you try that stunt again, girly. It's quite clear your daddy never showed you to be more respectful, I might need to teach you so manners" he has the good forsaken audacity of slapping your ass with his free hand

Heisenberg grunts and chuckles when you trash in his hold, trying so hard to run away from him "HOW DARE YOU?! IM BEATING YOUR DUMB FACE WHEN YOU PUT ME DOWN!" you make him laugh when a yelp scapes you the moment the cold air of the outside hits your skin and at least has the decency of softly putting you down, raising his hands as if ready for you to pounce "DON'T you dare to do that again, got it!?"

"We'll see if you mishave and threaten to punch me again, there must be some punishment, don't you think?" he's all smugness when he speaks, puffing up with pride when you blush and begin to frown, getting ready to tell him off only to get cut off when he whistles.

The sound is loud and fills the still air with a disturbance that feels disrespectful, making you wince when he keeps whistling rhythmically, that reminds you of how your grandfather used to have whistle based commands for the digs in his farm, which means...that the lycans are dogs, probably, and Heisenberg just lets them roam around, there's a small chance that the dogs are trained to chase or hunt vermin.

You both stay outside, waiting, getting a bit excited at the idea of seeing a dog after so long. Karl lifts a brow at the eager look on your face, wondering if you even know what's going to happen or if you are that stupid. He's ready to see your reaction, heard you scream in terror, or try to run back to the factory, although, he hopes you don't do that otherwise the lycans might give change and end up killing you.

The cocky smile on his face grows when he sees you pale in horror when the lycans come running, snarling and snapping their fangs at each other. Heisenberg was ready to hear you scream and see you escape, but he is not prepared for what you do next.

All that eagerness, the small hope you felt, all die when you see those beasts, all running to you like it happened that day, the phantom pain in your side makes you choke and freeze, these aren't the same beasts that...killed you...but the memory is still fresh, a part of you tells you to run, to hide, you scream or fight! but the rest of your body refuses to move. The closer they get, the louder the voice in your head becomes, so...you run and hide.

Last time you tried to run to your home and that got you almost mangled, this time? you let instinct guide you, pulling Heisenberg's coat up and hiding behind him, like a child would do, both arms winding around him with crushing strength.

In another situation, he would have made fun of you, laughing and asking where all that bravado of yours had gone to! But he can feel your chest rising and falling so fast, your entire body is shaking so hard it's making his necklaces clink and your teeth clack, you are muttering something but he can't tell what, more importantly...you are crying. He knows the signs of shell shock, oh he knows them too well, whatever happened to you, the lycans triggered a flight or fight response in you, a very strong one.

You can't hear anything over the ringing in your ears, so it's impossible to hear when Heisenberg whistles and makes the lycans scatter again. You do feel his hands peeling yours off him, the weight of his coat covering you and how, strangely, careful he is when picking you up, barely able to register his voice telling you to put your arms around his neck, the firm hold of his hands on your legs and what you guess, was a huff when you locked your legs behind him.

He's beyond surprised when you willingly allow him to pick you up like this, a million questions running through his head over your reaction. Guilt taking a hold of his heart knowing he made you THIS scared, to the point of sobbing on his shoulder and refusing to let him go even after making it into the living quarters but he manages to convince you to let him go, sitting you where you can see him cook and barely hear him talk...something about helping him with a reactor? you are not sure.

Karl watches you eat slowly, looking for any sight you might throw up or if the shaking in your hands gets so bad you might be unable to eat. He goes as far as to escort you to the bathroom, leaving you a new shirt and alone. There are no words to be exchanged but you know, he will come back to check on your jittery self and take you back to your room.

Once alone, you let shame eat you alive, wondering if he thinks less of you, if he will make fun of what just happened, or if tomorrow he will relegate you to some stupid minimal task thinking you are some weak damsel in distress. Dread crush you, not excited for the next day.

Waking up is torture and dressing up is suddenly the toughest task you have been saddled with, the smell of coffee fills the kitchen and, to your disgust, you see Heisenberg dump what might have been three spoonfuls of sugar on his cup. The man perks up when you get close to the table,

"Alright darling, let me start by saying..." here he goes, he's going to laugh and humiliate you "I'm NOT your fucking delivery man" Heisenberg throws a utility belt at you, the weight of the tools on it make you tip back and almost lose your footing "I went to the Duke to see if he got me some new stuff and he said your tools and boots arrived early, I only brought all this back so you won't lose time passing you anything"

"Eat something, we have time" He knows he shouldn't bring back up what happened yesterday, giving you time to process it all and think about what his next steps should be regarding the lycans and your fear of them.

The day is just like yesterday, but you pick on the subtle differences, Heisenberg seems more aware of any sounds that might startle you, steering you away from areas where he knows the lycans are chasing after rats and having a feast on some other things. You don't comment on it, smiling inwardly at his attempts to prevent you from going into another panic attack.

You are sitting in front of a broken generator, judging the damage and sighing when you come to the sad conclusion that you might need to rebuild the entire engine, Karl is close by, two rooms down from where you are. Getting up and stretching is a small pleasure, hearing your back crack loudly, groaning over the stiffness on your neck.

"I got you bad news, backup generator number eight? dead as fuck! I might need to rebuild it which means I'll be doing a list of what I need" you say while entering the room, his back is facing you and he seems to be deep in thought hunched over something.

Getting close you can see him pulling pieces towards him the metal listening to his command and coming his way, a screwdriver in one hand and a magnifying glass in the other, he seems to be struggling to assemble something.

Smiling a bit, you are careful when putting your head on his shoulder, effectively making him jump "Whatchu doing~?" Heisenberg curses under his breath, looking at you to the best of his abilities

"Reactor, damn thing keeps exploding whenever I do test runs" he feels you hum and see your hand get close to the project without touching

"Maybe it's the material or the lack of a cooling system, but that's my opinion" you straighten back "And like I said, the generator is dead, gone, either replace the whole unit or we rebuilt it"

You hear him grunt and pat his pockets looking for something, soon the smell of tobacco fills the air and he too gets up, looking at you, clearly thinking something or how to say it "Princess, about yesterday..." you go stiff, immediately looking away "I don't know what happened before you were brought here, but I do know that it's important for your safety that the lycans learn that you are a part of my..." at this he hesitates, chewing his cigar "family, so if you ever need it, they will come and help you"

He waits for you to say something or to see if you panic again when he sees no sight of terror he continues "There's a small group of lycans that are a bit more tamer, and I was thinking about introducing them to you, one by one"

"You want me to just do what, play fetch with them, scratch their bellies!?" there it is, your panic begins to raise and before it explodes, he grabs your shoulders making you look at him.

"You won't be alone, I'll be there and if the lycans try to EVEN bite you, I'll kill them on the spot! I will even teach you how to control them, that pack will be your...personal guard, but I'll be there"

You relish in the feeling of his gloves hands over you, thinking slowly about this. You need routine and maybe training the beasts to obey you might be good...having control over another being could be good and Heisenberg said he will be there the whole time, something about his voice makes you trust him. "If you leave me alone even ONCE, I'm destroying your knees with a wrench"

And there's that wolfish smile and hearty laughter, with renewed joy he pulls your hand telling you about how you will have the right to do that if he abandons you ever after this, he's staying with you throughout the whole process. Heisenberg catches you off guard when he takes off his coat and drapes it around your shoulders, pulling you outside, standing next to you.

"Let's start with whistling, ok?"

You must admit, you have a lot of fun learning how to do the right whistle command to call this particular pack, laughing a bit when Karl squishes your face whenever you fail to produce the right sound, once you get the sound right, he teaches small commands, how to make one sole lycan come to you, have them stop dead in their tracks, among others and how to make each whistle sound loud.

He does chuckle when you jump the moment the pack comes bolting from the woods towards you, the grip on your shoulders return and that anchors you, giving the stop command and smiling once the small group stops, Heisenberg all but smiles proudly when you take control and pick one lycan to get close and dismiss the others.

"Once it's close enough" Karl whispers low enough for you to hear "take off your gloves and let it smell the back and palm of your hands" he sees you nod and waits for the lycan to get near you, his hands sliding up and down your arms, he can feel you tremble a bit when you take off his gloves and let the beast smell you.

The lycan looks up to you, then at Heisenberg, opting for keeping its attention on you, you called it after all "It won't bite you, it can smell that you belong here, it knows better" Even with his reassurance you are weary of the beast, everything inside asking you to run away, yet you stay put, dogs can smell feat and react to it and that never ends well.

"What else can they do?" Karl can hear the terror in your voice but feels proud of your bravery, quickly teaching you what other tricks the thing can do.

By the end of the day, you are rather surprised when he cooks dinner again, he's actually pretty decent, his cooking lacks a bit of salt but it's good and he's doing his best to have you well fed.

"May I ask...why are you being so nice?" you ask him looking at his back "I've been a bit of a brat"

He laughs looking at you over his shoulder "I suppose...I understand what you are going through" he says, turning his attention back to the stove.

You want to ask him what happened to him, what made him so emphatic out of the blue but the tone of his voice and the stance of his body is enough indicator that this time is not the right moment to ask about it, perhaps one day, you two can share the pain that haunts you both.