#but I think it’ll be Greg… maybe

[cloud-based-and-rainpilled]

Why are people calling season 4 ep 6 the “death of tomgreg” when

1) Tomshiv is still very fucked up and chaotic

2) Tomgreg is still attached to the hip

3) Greg is brown nosing Kendall which could lead to

A) Tom jealousy

or

B) Greg firing Tom (dream scenario)

Every tomgreg moment in the first 30 hours of Succession could fit in like 7 minutes like lol calm down & just enjoy the ride

[fingertipsmp3]

On the one hand I refuse to think about work until I’m back on the clock, but on the other hand if those motherfuckers don’t fix the card machine I’m going to drown myself in the bucket

[itsmarsss]

cool. [Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader] (Diary of a Wimpy Kid)

(from the vault)

You start working as a babysitter for the Heffleys, but a certain someone seems to be bugging his parents to go out more often. Why?

Words: 6,164

Warnings: like one slight sexual/porn innuendo

[. . .]

"What do you mean someone to watch me?” Greg yelled, exhasperated.

Rodrick laughed out loud at the whole situation. “Wait is little Greg here getting a babysitter?”

“Yes, and she starts tomorrow night," their mom replied, matter-of-factly.

“Mom, I’m in seventh grade! I don’t need a babysitter!”

“We’d believe it if the last time we left the two of you alone you hadn’t directly disobeyed the only thing we told you not to do and thrown a party while we were gone," their dad explained.

“Wait. Mom. So I don’t have to watch him? Like ever again?”

“No but you should be ashamed of the reason why-”

“Hell yeah!”

“Rodrick-” He was already up the stairs on the way to his room. She sighed. 

“Mom you can’t do this to me. Do you know how bad it'll be if the guys in my grade find out you got me a babysitter?”

“They’re not gonna find out, sweetie.” She patted his head.

“And it’s not negotiable.”

“What your dad said.”

"Dad!”

“I’m sorry, kid! But if it makes you feel better, since Rodrick will be here and we’re getting a babysitter because we can’t leave the two of you alone, she’s teeechnically his babysitter too, right?”

“It doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I tried," he shrugged.

“Where are you two even going tomorrow?”

“We’re having dinner! " Susan exclaimed, excited to talk about it. "Alone, finally, because-”

“Wait couldn't she technically be Manny’s babysitter then?”

“Thank you for caring so much about what I had to say, son.” She sighed once again. “She’s not Manny’s babysitter because Manny’s gonna stay with your grandma.”

Greg huffed and made a point to be extremely loud when stumping upstairs to his room, immediately getting cornered by Rodrick. 

“So… a babysitter, huh? And I thought your seventh grade couldn’t get any worse.”

“D´you think it’ll be that bad?”

“Dude they probably got you an old lady who smells like a museum whos gonna make you eat soup at like five PM and sleep at seven.”

Greg widened his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, worried at the thought of what his brother was making him imagine. “You think?”

“Yup. And I’m not even talking about the total humiliation it's gonna be if someone your age finds out.”

“Crap.”

“Good luck with that.” Rodrick was obviously enjoying the mere thought of the torture that was going to follow.

. . .

“A babysitter?” Rowley asked, rather loudly. Greg quickly put his hand over his best friend's mouth. 

“Dude! Can you be quiet?”

“Hmmph!” Rowley tried to protest.

Greg released his hand from over his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Why do I need to be quiet?”

“Because I don’t want anybody to know!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, Rowley!”

Rowley just shrugged. “I wouldn’t be embarrassed. A babysitter sounds fun! Maybe she’ll read you bedtime stories! And play board games with you!”

Greg just looked at him incredulously. “Just don’t say anything about this to anyone., okay?"

Rowley suddenly started to look really nervous. “You know I can’t lie…”

“It’s not lying! It’s just not mentioning it! No one’s gonna ask about it.”

“Okay. Fine.” He didn't seem that sure about it, but Greg knew he'd try his best.

. . .

You took in a sharp breath before knocking on the front door. It took no time for it to be sprung open, and you were greeted by a smiling Mrs. Heffley. You retributed the smile. 

“Hi Mrs. Heffley!”

“Hey, sweetie! How are you?” She asked as she ushered you into the house, startling you when she closed the door behind you as you walked in. 

“I’m alright! How about you guys? Your dress looks so pretty!”

“Oh my God, thank you! You know it’s been ages since I’ve worn a pretty dress to go out, you can’t trust three kids with a pretty dress, they're always gonna ruin it.”

“Oh God that must be hell,” you laughed along with her. “Where are you guys headed tonight?”

“Looking forward to having dinner in peace,” she laughed again. “Manny!” she yelled suddenly, startling you yet again.

A little boy walked in in his diapers, holding his pants up with both hands. 

“Manny can you just please put on your pants?” Mr. Heffley followed the kid around, frustratedly asking him for what you assumed must have been at leat a fourth time to put his pants on, judging by the tone in his voice and the sigh that accompanied it.

“No!”

“Manny!” Ms. Heffley yelled yet again. The kid did what he was supposed to.

“Um I didn’t- is Manny gonna be staying with me tonight?”

“No! No,” she laughed. “Don’t worry, we’re taking him to my mother’s house.”

“Oh, right. Okay.” You tried to let out how relieved you were. Little kids were a whole other level of difficult, specially at Manny's age.

“Darling are you ready?” Susan asked her husband.

“Yeah! Yeah.”

“Greg!” she yelled again.

“What?” The boy yelled back from his room upstairs. 

“Y/n’s here! Come say hi!”

“Who’s y/n?”

“Your babysitter!”

He came downstairs. Very slowly. “Mom I already-” He stopped.  “You’re not an old lady!"

“Gregory! We don't say that to people! What is that about?"

“I’m sorry! I meant- Rodrick told me my babysitter was gonna be an old lady who smelled like a museum."

"Of course he did," Mr. Heffley said, under his breath.

You pretended to smell yourself. “I think I might smell more like an art gallery maybe,” you joked.

“I’m so sorry about this."

“It’s fine, Mrs. Heffley! Don’t worry about it. Now you two go have some fun, alright? Come on."

“Yeah! Okay. Right. There’s money on the table, you can order whatever you want for dinner the kids will eat whatever. Just grab the money before Rodrick comes downstairs or he's gonna pocket it. If you need anything you can call, okay? Really, anything.”

“Don’t worry about it! I promise I’ll call if anything happens! But I think we’re just gonna stay and eat some food and watch some movies, right Greg?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Please be nice, Greg. Oh and if Rodrick bothers you tell him I said he’ll be grounded if I hear he's not letting you work alright?"

“Sure thing! Thank you. Now go!” You joked, pretending to send them off.

. . .

You and Greg had both sat down on the couch in the living room.

“So. You’re not an old lady.”

“Nope.”

“Are you in high school?”

“Yes I am.”

“What grade are you in?"

“I’m a senior!”

“Oh. Rodrick’s a senior too.”

“Cool! I don’t think I’ve seen him around though.”

“Lucky.”

“Why’s that?”

“He makes my life hell!”

“Well don’t you make his life hell at least a tiny little bit?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“That’s just your job.”

“Trust me no girls like him.”

“Whatever, Heffley. So what do you wanna do?”

“Can we play video games?”

“Depends on what you have.”

“Apocalypse of The Damned?”

“I have never heard of that in my entire life.”

“You’re gonna like it I swear!”

“Alright. But you have to bring me the money your mom left on the table, I’m gonna order us some pizza.”

“Deal!” He ran out to the kitchen, getting back with the money in no time.

. . .

“Hey I was thinking. Can my friend sleep over?” Greg asked, obviously having been preparing himself to do so for the past few minutes, while furiously hitting buttons on his controller as you scrolled through your phone, having gotten tired of playing at that point. 

“Um. Is your friend gonna give me any trouble?”

“No! You can- you can trust us.”

“Is he annoying?”

He seemed to take his time to think of an answer. “A little. But he’s pretty cool.”

“Fine, I’ll ask your mom.”

You clicked on Mrs. Heffley’s contact name. 

hi mrs heffley

how's the date going? im sorry to interrupt

You didn't even have the time to finish writing the next text before she was calling you. You picked it up.

“Is everything okay?” Susan asked, clearly worried.

“Oh, yes. Everything’s fine, you don't have to worry! I’m so sorry to interrupt your date, Greg wanted a friend to stay over and I just wanted to see if that’s okay with you.”

“Is it Rowley?”

“Sorry?”

“The friend, is it Rowley?”

“Is it Rowley?” You asked Greg, leaning away from the phone, to which he just nodded his head yes. “Yeah, Rowley.”

“Okay, of course he can! And don’t worry, I’ll pay you extra for it.”

“Oh, that’s really nice, thank you. Now you should go back to your date, I'm so sorry to bother.”

“No worries! Are you sure everything’s fine?”

“Yes! We ordered pizza and we’re playing video games right now. Everything under control.”

“And Rodrick?”

“Uh, I haven’t really seen him honestly. He definitely hasn’t left his room though.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Bye!” You hung up.

“So?”

“Yeah, call your friend. Ask him if he has any board games we can play!”

Greg did as you said, and, in about half an hour, a little boy with a yellow shirt with a dog on it stood at the door.

“Are you Greg’s babysitter?’

“Uh yeah, I am.”

“Cool!" He looked at Greg behind you. "You told me she was old!”

“Rowley!”

“What? You did!”

You laughed at the interaction and let them do their thing, only asking them to stay by the living room so you could keep an eye on them. You sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone again as you knew the pizza should be about to get there.

The doorbell rang in no time. You stood up to pay for it, grabbing the large-size pizza and tipping the delivery guy, who didn’t look very friendly at all. You brought it in. “Hey Greg can you go call your brother?”

“Yeah!”

He ran up the stairs, and you set the box down on the dining table, Rowley sitting down. Greg came back.

“He told me to bring it to him.”

“Why?"

"He just doesn't wanna come downstairs."

"You don't have to do it.”

“What? He’s gonna beat me up for it!”

“Not with me here. I got you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Chill out.”

. . .

“Hey you little asshole? I told you to bring my pizza!” A voice exclaimed from the second floor, and Greg muffled a quiet ‘shit’.

“Hey don’t say that!” You scolded Greg for swearing as a reflex.

“Hey? Are you not listening?” Rodrick was clearly close to the kitchen now. He walked through the door. “I said get me so-” he stopped dead on his tracks when he saw you.

“Who’s this?” He asked the boys.

“That’s Y/N,” Rowley said, through gulps.

"And I'm right here you know? You could just ask me who I am."

“Well who are you? And what are you doing… here?” He leaned over the wall, in a poor attempt to look cool. You had to fight yourself tas not to laugh uncontrollably at the sight.

“Well I seem to be your babysitter for the night.”

“What?”

“Did you also expect an old lady? You know, that's a really common and really hurtful babysitter stereotype, you really should think about the things you say now.”

“Wha- huh- yeah- I’ll just-” He let out a weird laugh, and walked up to the table, grabbing himself a slice of pizza and stuffing it into his mouth, seemingly to shut himself up.

“Well we’re gonna watch a movie after we’re done eating. You wanna join?”

“Oh he’s not gonna-” Greg started talking, but Rodrick quickly interrupted him, almost choking on his food as he did so.

“Yeah! Yeah! What are we uh- what are we watching?”

“Zathura.”

“What the fuck is Zathura?”

“Don’t swear in front of them!”

“Sorry.”

Greg looked at Rowley like Rodrick had just gone insane. Did he just apologize?

You laughed. “I’m kidding. You guys don’t mind, do you?”

They both slowly nodded their head no. 

“Cool. As long as you don’t repeat it in front of your parents, alright? Don’t wanna get me in trouble.”

“We’re not five!"

“Well you do look like it,” Rodrick commented, and Greg stuck his tongue out at him.

. . .

“This movie doesn’t make any sense,” Rodrick commented, pointing at the screen.

“It’s not supposed to! It’s a kids movie about a magical board game,” you pointed out.

“Let me guess, did Rowley pick this one?”

“For your information, I did. You got a problem?”

“No.”

Rowley had, in fact, picked this one.

Greg and Rowley shared a look again. This was getting bizzarre.

The movie was over in about half an hour, and it was time for you to put Greg to sleep.

“But it’s so early!” The boy complained, and you laughed.

“I know, but you don’t have to sleep now, you just gotta go to bed! I can’t, like, force you to sleep.”

He let out an annoyed groan before agreeing and pulling Rowley with him by the wrist. “Fine.”

“I’ll be upstairs in a few!” You yelled out, and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes from dinner. It wasn’t really something Mrs. Heffley had explicitly asked you to do, but you had those extra minutes and wanted to get on her good side. 

What you didn’t expect was to come in to find Rodrick still standing there, startling himself when you walked in.

“Uh hey!” His voice was high-pitched, clearly not expecting to see you there so soon.

“Hey.” You wordlessly walked to the sink, starting with the dishes. And then he offered to help you, which didn’t fit the image you had of him at all.

“What?”

“I said do you want some help? I can dry them.”

“Uh sure. Thanks.”

He just nodded, grabbing a cloth. “So did you put them to sleep yet?”

��Yeah they’re supposed to call me when they’re ready. Then I’m pretty much done.”

“Are you leaving like right after?” Was he… disappointed?

“Well not right after, your mom still has to pay me.”

“Right. She paying you extra for the dishes?”

“No,” you laughed, “just wanna score some points. This job’s good money, you know? But don’t tell her I said that.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You nodded, a little awkwardly. “So what’s the deal with the van?”

“What?”

“The huge white van parked right outside? I assume it’s not your mom’s.”

“Yeah.”

“Couldn’t you have picked a better color?”

“What?”

“You know something other than the classic creepy white van?”

He actually laughed. “I don’t think a creep would have ‘löded diper’ written on the door.”

“Maybe you’re just trying not to look too suspicious.”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” Was he… flirting? Well, that was… an attempt.

“What, are you inviting me? You know, I was taught not to get into creepy white vans with strangers.”

“We’re not strangers!” He held his hand up for you to shake, which you did. “I’m Rodrick.”

“Y/N.”

“So. Ho'wd you end up babysitting Greg out of all people?”

“I mean, your dad posted something about it in the newspaper and my mom told me about it. Some extra money, you know?”

“And you’re sure it’s worth it? I mean he’s a big pain in the ass.”

“Aren’t all brothers?”

“I’m not.”

“Right. You’re like a dictator to him!”

“No I’m not!”

“He was scared you were gonna beat him up if he didn’t bring you pizza.”

“He’s dumb. I wasn’t gonna beat him up that badly.”

You laughed. “Well, we’re done. Thank you for the help. You can go now if you wanna.”

“You sound like a mom.”

“Oh my god! Stop trying to make me sound old! I'm some granny cinderella who turns into an old lady who smells like a museum when midnight strikes," you teased him, and he scrunched up his nose in embarrassment.

"Right. He told you about that.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry. To be fair, I never had a babysitter, you know? I just thought they were all old and boring.”

“Do you think I’m old and boring?” You joked.

He snorted. “No, you’re pretty.” His eyes widened, realizing what he’d just said. Way to go. “Not in that- well not that you’re not pretty, you are, but you know what I mean. You’re uh- you’re pretty compared to what I- expected?"

It was stupid, but you could feel yourself blush a little. Why was it that you always fell for the most absolute idiots? “So I’m pretty… compared to an old woman.”

“I think you should let me start over.”

“But-”

“Y/N!” You heard Greg yell from upstairs, and you left the kitchen to go see him, going up the stairs and entering his room.

“Okay, we ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes!”

“Both of you?”

“Yup.”

“Okay I’ll believe you. But your mom told me you’re on thin ice.”

Greg rolled his eyes and both boys got on the bed. 

“Okay, goodnight. If you don’t sleep right away don’t make too much noise.”

“Are you coming over tomorrow?”

“Why, did you actually like me?”

“Just a little.”

You smiled. “Well no. But I think I might next week.”

“Cool! ‘Night, Y/N!” 

“‘Night!”. You closed the door behind you, and walked downstairs to wait for Mrs. and Mr. Heffley to return so you could go home. 

You stopped on the hallway to send your mom a quick text saying you were fine and should be leaving in a few before making your way to the living room.

To your surprise, Rodrick hadn’t gotten back to his room. Instead, he was laying on the couch, his entire body draped over it as he scrolled through his phone. He sat right up when he saw you. “Hey Y/N.”

“Hey. You not have anything to do?”

“I’m offended. But no I don’t.”

You laugh, sitting down beside him. “Okay. Well your parents must be on their way, so. Don’t have much to do either.”

“You wanna watch something?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well a real movie.”

“Zathura’s a real movie! I like it!”

“You actually do?”

“Yes!”

“Whatever. Well an adult movie I mean.”

“Uh, an adult movie?”

“No! Not that kind!” He was blushing furiously and you found it hilarious. 

“Yeah whatever. What do you have?”

You ended up settling on a Marvel movie, but you barely had the time to start it before the doorbell rang, and you had to go get the door.

“Hey Y/N! I’m sorry we took so long, we had to go get Manny.”

“That’s fine! Rodrick and I were just about to watch a movie!”

“Rodrick came downstairs?” Mr. Heffley sounded genuinely surprised.

“Well you can finish it if you want!”

“Oh, no, I really should get going. We can finish it another time.”

“Oh well. Okay.” She put Manny down and grabbed her wallet, handing you your money. “Here, with the extra from Rowley. Hope they didn’t cause too much trouble.”

“Oh they were so cool! I was surprised.”

“Oh that’s great to hear! If they haven’t traumatized you too much we’d love to have you sit them again.”

“Oh definitely! Just give me a call.”

“Thank you, Y/N. Are you driving home?”

“Oh, no, I’m actually walking. I thought we’d be done a little earlier.”

“Oh that’s not good, we can take you-”

“I can take her!” Rodrick yelled, almost falling off of the couch in his eagerness. He stood up, walking toward you. His dad looked like he was short-circuiting.

“Are you sure?” His mom asked.

“Yeah! Come on, let’s go.” He walked quickly past the front door and into the white van.

“Sure. Bye Mrs. Heffley!”

“Bye sweetie! Tell me if he bothers you too much!”

You walked towards the van, getting in on the passenger’s seat. He turned the engine on in silence. There was an awkward atmosphere surrounding you, and you didn’t know why.

You cleared your throat. “So uh. Thanks for driving me.”

“Yeah it’s chill. Where do I turn?”

“Oh let me just- give me your phone.”

“What?”

“So I can put the address on the GPS?”

“Oh. Sure.” He handed it to you after unlocking it, and you did as you said. 

“Turn left in 200 feet,” the disembodied voice said, and he did.

“You don’t have to uh- do these things for me. You know, drive me home, help me with the dishes. It’s nice, but I’m not gonna tell on you if you don’t.”

“I know. I uh. I want to.”

“You wanna do the dishes?”

“I wanna help you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Fine.”

You got home pretty quickly, as you didn’t live a long way from the Heffley residence, and got out of the car. 

“Thank you for driving me! Goodnight.”

“Yeah!” Rodrick yelled back, and waited for you to get in to drive off. There was a smile on your lips you couldn’t shake off, and you felt stupid for it. Was the weird wannabe rock band kid really having an effect on you?

. . .

On wednesday, you got a call from Ms. Heffley again. And then on friday, and saturday, and sunday. This could not be normal, right? But it was money, so you obviously wouldn’t refuse it. So you pulled up to the Heffley residence for the fifth time on sunday, knocking on the door as usual.

Greg opened it this time, greeting you with a confused expression. “You’re here again?”

“Miss me, kid?”

“Are they going out again?”

“Apparently.”

“Mom, Y/N’s here!”

“Oh hey sweetie! Thank you for coming!”

“No problem! Where are you off to today?”

“Well we’re going bowling. Rodrick found us these pamphlets at the mall and wouldn’t stop bugging us about trying it out, so we decided to give it a go.”

“Oh he did?” That was strange.

“And you seem to have things so under control! I can’t believe we’ve been going out so much!”

“Well I’m happy to hear it. When will you be back?”

“I’d say eleven if that’s not too late for you?”

“Oh definitely not! As long as Rodrick can drive me.”

“Oh that won’t be a problem. You ready, darling?” She asked her husband, who walked by holding Manny in one arm and a huge bag in the other. 

“Yeah.”

"Everything there?” Susan asked him, referring to the bag. She turned back to you. “Manny’s staying over at my mom’s for the first time today. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Yeah!" You exclaimed, not really getting all the excitement about it. You supposed you would if you were his mom. Right now you were just happy you didn’t have to watch over him too. Little kids were always more difficult. 

“Okay bye everyone!”

Greg and Rodrick were right behind you the moment you closed the door.

“Can we make pasta?’ Greg asked, and damn, the little dude must have had some sugar because he looked like he’d downed like three energy drinks at once.

“Well yeah. I make a killer pasta. Is Rowley coming today?”

“Yeah!”

“Cool.”

“Do you want help with the food?” Rodrick finally spoke up, and Greg looked at him like he was speaking Greek.

“Sure.”

“Are you okay?’ Greg couldn’t contain himself from asking him.

“What do you mean, assface?”

“Did you just offer to help with the food?”

“Yeah?”

“Who are you?”

“Oh shut it, dickhead.” You didn’t miss the nervous glance he gave you, clearly signaling something about you to Greg. And then Greg seemed to figure something out, his eyes going wide.

“Oh! Is that why you-” Rodrick looked alarmed, putting his hand against Greg’s mouth to keep him from talking, but he managed to get himself free. “Is that why you’ve been trying to get mom and dad to go out all week?”

“Hah. Don’t know what he’s talking about, pssht.” Rodrick laughed nervously.

“Uh sure. Well I’m already hungry so I’m thinking early dinner and then we can make dessert?”

“Yes!” Greg yelled.

“Okay but if we’re making the food you gotta set the table. Deal?” 

Greg groaned in annoyance, but agreed. “Fine.” He went on his way, and you and Rodrick made your own way to the kitchen.

“So,” you started, as you grabbed the pasta from the cabinet. “You’ve been trying to get your parents to go out all week.”

He looked everywhere but at you. “Uh, I don’t know what the kid’s on about.”

“Well, shame. Cause I was gonna thank you.”

“For what?”

“Well the more times a week I work the more money I get right?”

“Oh right. Right. So yeah you can thank me.”

“So you were setting them up to go out. Why?”

He shrugged, trying to seem cool. “Wanted to be alone.”

“You’re not alone now. You could be in your room. Or like out with your friends or whatever.”

“I didn’t anticipate that you’d actually be cool.”

“Oh you think I’m cool?”

“Yeah.” 

The water started to boil, and you threw the pasta in the pot, stirring it with a fork.

“Cool. You’re kinda cool too. You know when you’re not trying to be impressive.”

“I’m not trying to impress you!”

“I didn’t say you were trying to impress me .”

“Well I was.”

“You were.”

“Did it work?”

“Why’d you want to impress me?”

“Cause you’re cool. I wanted you to think I’m cool too.”

“Huh. Maybe I do.”

“Cool.”

“Y/N I’M DONE! I THINK ROWLEY’S HERE !” Greg’s voice came from the dining room.

“I didn’t hear the doorbell, are you sure?” You yelled back, walking past Rodrick to get the front door. Maybe you were too lost in the conversion to hear it, because the boy was standing right there when you opened it.

“Hey Y/N!” He said with a smile, greeting you with a hug, which was very on-brand for the kid. 

“Hey Rowley. You alright?”

“Yeah! I brought water balloons!”

“You did?”

“Well they’re not full of water yet so they’re just balloons but yeah.”

“Cool! You should tell Greg!”

“Will you play with us?”

“Oh I don’t know, I don’t have clothes I can get wet-”

“Well that’s not a problem!” Rodrick said, and you frowned in confusion. “You can borrow mine!”

“Oh I don-”

“C’mon, Y/N, you really gonna disappoint the boy?”

“Shut up. Fine, but you’re playing too.”

“Deal.”

“Yes!” Rowley exclaimed, before taking off, presumably to go find Greg.

“Well you wanna go up to my room?” Rodrick asked, apparently having otten some confidence from out of the blue, sporting a cocky smirk.

You laughed. “You wish. Just bring me a t-shirt.”

“Yeah. Someone’s gonna be looking like the number one Loded Diper fan out there.”

“If you bring me a white shirt I will beat you up!” You yelled, and he was already on his way upstairs. You took the past out of the pot, mixing it with the sauce you’d made, which was the easiest one you could find.

Rodrick was back as soon as you set the pot down on the table, handing you a gray shirt that , of course, had ‘loded diper’ written on it in terrible handwriting. 

“Thanks.” You draped the shirt over your shoulder and all of you ate in silence, apparently all stupidly hungry for some reason.

You were done pretty quickly, but made sure to get Greg and Rowley to promise to help with the dishes this time, since there were more.

“Okay! We’re gonna get changed!”

“Yeah me too!” You yelled back, making your way to the bathroom, changing into Rodrick’s gray shirt.

It didn’t hang as loose as you thought it would, and you laughed at the thought of Rodrick wearing a tight shirt for no reason. You supposed it was an old one he decided to turn into loded diper merch. Loded diper. What a stupid fucking name. You guessed it was fit. 

Someone knocked on the bathroom door. Rodrick. “You done? These kids are little demons, they talk so much!”

You laughed, unlocking the door and grabbing your own shirt before opening it. 

“Hello?” He looked wide-eyed, like his brain was malfunctioning, staring profusely at his shirt. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Fine. The shirt alright?”

“Yeah. A lot smaller than I expected. Does Rodrick Heffley wear crop tops?”

He shrugged, embarrassed. “Sometimes. That bad?”

“No.”

“Chicks dig the crop tops, you know.”

“Oh do they?”

“Don’t you?”

“I guess I’d have to see you in one to give an opinion.”

“Yeah that’s not happening any soon."

“Shame.”

“What?”

“I said let’s go.”

You barely had the time to walk into the front yard before Rodrick was hit on the face by a huge water balloon. You turned to see a terrified-looking Rowley at the other side. Rodrick gained his bearings again. 

“Oh you’re in, you little shit!” He seemed way too determined on winning this, but who were you to judge?

Him and Rowley occupied themselves with each other pretty much the whole time, as you did with Greg, until you got hit rather strongly in the back. You stopped what you were doing, which was aiming your next balloon at Greg, who was right in front of you, and turned around to see Rodrick laughing at you.

“Motherfucker-” you cursed yourself mentally for swearing in front of the kids, hoping they wouldn ‘t tell on you, and launched the balloon at him at full speed, it landing on his chest. 

“Hey!”

You played for about half an hour more until the sun set, and you decided it was best to get back inside. All three complained, and you laughed at the situation, because you supposed you did sort of sound like a mom when trying to convince them to get in, but they ended up listening.

“Okay what are we watching tonight?” You asked as you closed the front door behind you and dried your feet on the mat by the entrance.

“Oh can we watch a horror movie?” Greg asked.

“Nope, we know how that ends.”

“But we’ve changed!”

“It’s been less than a week!”

“People change!” Greg tried to plead, but you knew Mrs. Heffley wouldn’t like it if you caved in.

“No can do, Gregory. We can watch that Adam Sandler movie you wanted though.”

“With the little kid?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

You were halfway through a second movie when the boys decided it was time for dessert, and you still had a little while before the Heffleys came back, so you decided you’d all bake cupcakes.

They didn’t turn out as great as you wished they would, but also weren’t half bad. They were a little flat and maybe a little toasted on the top, but were otherwise pretty edible. You covered them with some frosting and ate them as you finished the movie.

It turned out when you were done the Heffleys still hadn’t come back, so you decided to put the boys to sleep then. You came back to Ridrick looking at you at the other end of the hallway. 

“Hey,” you said, not expecting him to be there.

You stood there in silence for a few moments before he cleared his throat and started talking.

“Um do you wanna hang out? ‘Till they're back?” It was funny, with him. One moment he’d be full of confidence, flirting with you at the max, but, in a second, his entire demeanor would change and he’d look unsure, insecure to ask you anything.

You were starting to wonder if he wasn’t just being a stupid hormonal teenager and if he actually, maybe, had a little bit of a crush on you. But you wouldn’t entertain those thoughts, of course. First because you could be completely misinterpreting the situations, and second because you needed the job, and you hadn’t gotten enough of a read on his mom to know if she’d be cool with that.

Still, you did have nothing else to do but scroll through your phone as you waited. “Sure.”

“Oh! Cool. Uh, my room’s right there,” he pointed to a white door by his left, and you followed him in. It actually looked pretty cool. It was sort of exactly what you expected his room to look like, except maybe a little messier, if that was possible.

To each their own, I guess. It’s not like you were the cleanest person to ever walk the Earth. You sat down on his bed, and he opted to sit down on a beanbag just in front of you.

TIt's safe to say things were a little awkward. “Uh. So. Cool room.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You studied the multiple posters he had glued to his walls. “Oh, The Cure. Cool.”

“Yeah. They’re not like super my style or anything. But they’re cool.”

“What would be your style?”

“I don’t know. Hard rock.”

“Huh. I don’t know. You just look like one of those guys who like rock but secretly listen to Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber or something when they’re alone.”

“What- what I would never- I don’t-” busted. 

You laughed at him as he tried to deny it. “I think it’s cool.”

He stopped. “You do?”

“Yeah. Taylor Swift’s cool.”

“Yeah uh. Girls dig that.”

“Do you really know what girls dig or do you just make random guesses?”

“I’m well-informed.”

“Oh are you? You have a girlfriend or something?” Subtle.

He scoffed. “Pfft. Yeah.”

“Uh- huh.”

He gave in. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay”

“You're a girl. What do you dig then?”

“What a romantic way to phrase that question. I guess I don’t know. Never stopped to think of it. What do you think we dig?”

“Uh. Bad boys?”

You let out a laugh. “Yeah I guess. But it depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether they’re nice to us.”

“So you want bad boys who are actually nice.”

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Uh. But I can be nice.”

“Who said you’re a bad boy to begin with?”

“Um rock band? Cool eyeliner?” He motioned to himself, mockingly.

“Well who do you wanna be nice for?”

“Uh. You? Obviously.”

Your smile faltered. There was the confidence making an appearance again.

“What?”

“Uh. You know. So I can uh- practice. For other... girls?”

“Right.”

“Or maybe not.”

“Okay I ‘m lost.”

“Do you wanna go out with me? ” He blurted out at rapid speed.

Okay, sudden much? “What?”

“Uh. We could… go to the movies or something? You seem to like movies.”

“Right. But as a… date?”

“Yeah.”

You thought about it. It was just a date, it’s not like his mom would get mad about a date, right?

“Sure.”

“What?”

“I said sure.”

His eyes widened, he didn’t seem to have been expecting a positive answer. “Oh! That’s cool! That's- cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

He began standing up. “Well, do you wanna-” In that very moment, before he could finish, the doorbell rang, and you made your way past him, running downstairs and getting the front door. 

“Y/N! How are we?”

You hoped the blush on your cheeks wasn’t as visible as it felt as you talked to her. “We’re great! Greg and Rowley are already in bed, Rodrick and I have been uh. Hanging out.”

“Oh that’s nice of him!” She turned to face her husband, who, in turn, grabbed your wrist. 

“What have you done to him? Are you some sort of witch?” He asked you.

You laughed awkwardly. “Oh it’s all him! He was showing me the posters in his room, we like the same bands!”

“Oh do you uh. Like rock too?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Well we’re taking too much of your time. Is Rodrick driving you home?”

Oh, right. Shit. He was.

“Yeah I uh, think so.”

With that, he walked into your view, holding up the van keys. He’d apparently put on shades, probably so his parents wouldn’t see he had eyeliner on.

“Why do you have sunglasses on?” Mr. Heffley asked him as he walked past them.

“It’s called fashion, dad!”

Mrs. Heffley handed you the money for the night, and you went on your way, getting into the van with Rodrick, who, by now, didn’t need the GPS to get to your place. Except he wasn’t driving to your place at all.

“What are you doing?”

“Wanted a slushie. That cool?”

“I guess.”

He stopped by a 7/11 and bought each of you a slushie and some chocolate bars, which you ate outside. The wind started to get harsher, and you crossed your arms around your chest for warmth. He caught on to that, taking his striped hoodie off and giving it to you. You looked up at him, confused.

“What?”

“You’re cold.”

“Yeah but you’ll be cold.”

“Rockstars don’t get cold.”

“You’re not a rockstar.”

“Not yet."

You raised an eyebrow at him, unamused.

"Just take it!” 

You did, and put it on. This one hung looser than the shirt you’d borrowed earlier. It did help. You tried your best to contain the smile that was insisting on forming on your lips. You knew it was dumb.

“Thanks,” you mumbled under your breath, and you could see him smirk, proud of himself. “You’re so cheesy. Wouldn’t take you for it.” 

“I’m not cheesy. I’m just not an asshole.”

“You kinda are.”

“Shut up!”

You ate in silence for a bit before you decided to say what was on your mind. “Hey about that date?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t… I don’t know if we should do it.”

He tried to seem chill about it, but he looked a little hurt. “Why?”

“Well it’s not that I don’t want to! I do. For… some reason,” you added, trying to lighten up the mood. “But do you think your mom would be cool with it? I mean I don’t wanna lose this job and I don’t know if she’d really like us being alone if we’re dating.”

His face lit up. “So you’re thinking about dating me?”

Oh, you’d messed up big time now, he’d never let this go. “No! That’s not what I meant!”

“I think it is.”

“Fuck off!”

“Oh we’re using big boy words now?” He grinned.

“Shut up.”

“Well. Don’t think that should be a problem. They don’t have to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“What, do you tell your parents everything? They don’t have to know we’re dating.”

“Yeah but we’re not dating.”

“Not yet.”

“Shut up!”

“They don’t have to know we’re going on a date, then. Plus, the days you work can be like little dates.”

“Yeah except there will be two children up our asses.”

“You can manage.”

“Fine, Heffley. But if I lose my job you’ll be owing me. Like literal money.”

“Deal.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

[. . .]

A/N: sometimes ur 20 pages into a diary of a wimpy kid rodrick heffley oneshot and you ask urself wtf am i doing with my life. this is the product of that. i wrote this THREE YEARS AGO WOW so i edited some of it to post it here but nothing major cause i didn't want it to lose its energy lol. btw i was in fact like. actually in high school at the time lmao. luv yall!

[inbarfink]

So when discussing the ending of ‘Over the Garden Wall’ and the nature of the Unknown in general, I think it is important to remember that it’s left deliberately up for interpretation. You know, it’s not a Quiz with one concrete answer we must uncover, but it’s more about our interpretations and personal feelings. Each and every one of us experiences that journey with Wirt and Greg into the Unknown in a slightly different way. 

So what I want to do here is not present a Correct Interpretation that will dispute all the others and prove them all wrong and prove myself right, I just want to share my own outlook on the nature of the Unknown. In the hopes that others will like it and it’ll inspire more cool readings and interpretations

So on some level I do agree with the popular theory that the Unknown is some sort of Afterlife - but I don’t see it as a regular Afterlife for human souls, I think it is an afterlife for Stories. This place is where fictional characters and stories end up once they’ve been totally forgotten by the living, ‘lost in the clouded annals of history’. and become.... unknown It is quite literally a place where ‘long forgotten stories are revealed to those who travel through the wood’.

That’s why the Unknown is a mishmash of different time periods and primarily visually and narratively influenced by stuff like fairy tales, ghost stories, children’s books and old cartoons - these stories have a high-tendency to be forgotten and thus get lost in the Unknown (whatever it’s because they rely on oral traditions or because they suffered from very poor preservation historically). 

And that is what the theme song, ‘Into the Unknown’ is talking about…

Where can we pretend that dreams do come true? In Stories.

And what are ‘the loveliest lies of all’? Now that would be Fiction. 

The entire concept of stories is a huge theme of this song, I think.

Beatrice and her family, Adelaide of the Pasture, Auntie Whispers and Lorna were all originally fairy tales. Maybe the same fairy tale, or maybe they were originally separated before being ‘melded’ together. (If, for example, the last child to Remember them before they were forgotten just assumed the Bad Witch in both the Auntie Whispers and Beatrice stories was Adelaide)

Pottsfield was an old urban legend about a haunted ghost town, Wirt and Greg basically played through its ‘plot’ directly. 

Miss Langtree, the schoolhouse and the other associated characters come from a long-forgotten and out-of-print children’s book. That’s why those characters tend to talk in comically-stilted expository dialogue. 

The Tavern was the setting for a series of 20’s animated cartoons.  (Although obviously set long before that era). The Tavern Keeper was created as a Betty Boop clone and was the main character. The Tavern setting was probably a mere framing device for all sort of musical animations. The reason why none of them can comprehend the idea of not having some sort of Title or Label is because that’s how they were written - all given job-related titles but not named.

Fred the Talking Horse was a main character from a forgotten tradition of humorous oral stories where he was sometimes a trickstery anti-hero and sometimes a straight-up comedic villain protagonist.

Quincy Endicott and Margueritte Grey were characters from a satiric limerick about the greedy rich and their wacky habits. (Quincy was at least inspired by a real-life person since his name appears on a tombstone in the real world)

Possibly the same limerick where the punchline was the status-quo at the beginning of their OTGW ep, that both rivals’ mansions have become connected and they assume the other is a ghost haunting their house. Or maybe they were each from different regional variations of the same limerick about a greedy rich weirdo being lost in their own house and going mad. 

Frogland and their little boat might be from a children’s book as well, but I also think that maybe… from the vignettes shown at the opening of the series…

That one might take place outside the Unknown, and shows the real inception of Frogland. Two brothers making up stories with their toy boat by the river. Since they never shared these stories with anyone else, when these two brothers died or maybe just grew up and forgot their boyhood misadventures by the stream - these stories also ended up in the Unknown. 

The Fishing Fish we see briefly in ‘Babes in the Woods’ might be a small comedic illustration from a children’s book, or another piece of limerick, or just someone’s random notebook doodle that gained a life of its own first in the creator’s mind and then in the Unknown. 

Cloud City, the North Wind and the Queen of the Clouds were also, much like the Tavern, from a very old cartoon.

The Beast was once just a mere Boogie Man to keep young children from wandering off into the woods. Ending up forgotten in the Unknown just ended up giving him a whole world of lost souls to harvest. 

Maybe the Woodsman and his daughter were always a part of the story of the Beast. But since it seems that the Woodsman being a lantern-bearer is a fairly recent development - they might have had their own separate story. Some sort of pastoral novel about a family moving near the woods? But their narrative has been ‘hijacked’ by the Beast. 

Wirt and Greg ended up lost within the Unknown cause had they actually died in the lake that night - they would have become a Story in their town. I mean we have a moody lonely teenager and his adorable little brother disappearing/dying - on the night of Halloween - after last being seen in a graveyard - with the older brother’s last act on this earth being to hand his crush a cassette of his love poetry. Can you imagine what sort of Urban Legenda you can grow from those seeds?

But as they were not yet dead, and not a Story yet… so they were technically an Unknown story. Between the borders of life and death from a human perspective because they were about to die, and from a Story perspective because they were just about to be born.

And the ending sequence, with the little vignettes showing where all the characters from all the episodes ended up. I think that’s almost like Wirt and Greg back in the world of the living and the real - being able to create happy endings for all of those stories they've met. That’s how the Woodsman’s daughter ended up being alive all along - it was less that the Woodsman's whole tragedy was a wacky misunderstanding all along. But it became so as a gift of thanks by their new storytellers - Wirt and Greg.

Because if dreams can't come true, than why not pretend?

[indianamgc11]

“makes me want to wreck you.” from the prompt list woth ethan landry 😇

eyes on you

a/n: hello! i wrote this with the intent of making a pt. 2, so lmk if you would be interested in that :)

warnings: cursing, mentions of weed and alcohol, touching, mentions of blood and the tiniest bit of violence, fighting, implications of sex, talking of body parts, ethan x f!reader (lmk if i missed any)

word count: 2,665

summary: reader and the group attend the frat party, but ethan and reader have their eyes, and minds, set on something else.

You never have really been a fan of parties, let alone frat college parties. But Chad had convinced you to go along anyways, saying you needed to “get out more.”

“C’mon! It’ll be fun! Maybe you could find a piece of eye candy to snack on.”

He laughs at his own comment and flexed his muscles in the air, jokingly referencing to himself, earning a playful eye roll and a sigh from you.

“Fine, I’ll go, just don’t try to find somebody for me, that didn’t go too well last time.”

You remember back to the last party you went to with the friend group, where Chad attempted to hook you up with a guy who ended up being some 30-year old freak who passed by the party scene, thinking he could get away with a girl or two. Chad ended up getting into a fist fight with the creep, leaving himself with bloodied knuckles and a red slap mark on his face, and the guy with a broken nose and a black eye. That was the last party you had gone too.

But you wanted to try again, seeing that you wanted to join this sorority with Tara for a bit, and figured that a party would be a good start (hopefully).

It was later in the day and you were getting ready with Tara in her room. Her, Sam, and Quinn were your roommates, and Sam wasn’t too fond of the “social gathering” that Chad had been talking about. She’s been very paranoid about letting Tara go out alone, or to any crowded event, since the recent Ghostface killings in your hometown of Woodsboro, California the previous year. Even with Chad saying him and the remaining friend group would be going, Sam still turned the idea down. Nevertheless, you and Tara still planned to go to the OKB party, you currently adding lavender body glitter to yourself while Tara was finishing pulling her hair up.

Tara is dressed as a pirate, while you were dressed as a fairy, sort of. Having a shimmery cropped top with feathers around the edge of the upper half, and a glittery skirt to go with it. It wasn’t a kiddy costume, but wasn’t an attempt to pick up any guys, they’d all be drunk or high anyways.

Quinn was, occupied, in her room with some guy you both didn’t know, so she definitely wasn’t going with you two. Instead she was going to cover for you both if Sam questioned your absences when she got home.

You both turn your lights off and shut your bedroom doors before leaving (so Sam might think you were sleeping), then shut the front door and started heading downstairs. Neither of you spoke a word, the only sounds to be heard were from your shoes hitting the floor and the air conditioning in the building. You did this just in case you ran into Sam, which was unlikely, but just for good measure. You make it out of the apartment building and join your group of friends, walking down the busy streets of New York. The sidewalks of the roads, and now the campus, are quite crowded, seeing various costumes on many bodies, including many Ghostfaces. You’re bumped out of your observations, literally, when you see a familiar face.

“Hey, Jason!” Tara says, glad to see her friend.

“Are you and Greg coming to the OKB party?” You ask him as you and Tara both stop to talk with him briefly, pointing behind you.

“Yeah, if he ever finishes his Spanish project.” Jason responds.

He continues to talk with Tara rather than you and asks if Sam would be there, seeming to take an interest to her. They finish conversing and you catch up with your group. You make it to the house, lit up with flashing lights, tables holding many plastic red cups and bottles of beer with lots of people around. You walk inside and are immediately hit with the smell of alcohol and many lit joints, which isn’t very surprising. You lose the friend group you arrived with, being left with Tara. It’s hard to hear nearly anything except for the loud bass of the music, and clips of conversations from everywhere you go. A course someone is taking, how Subway messed up their sandwich, or just plain horny college students at a poor attempt to start something up. But seriously, get a room.

“I’m gonna go find Chad”

You say to Tara, but end up nearly yelling for her to hear you, needing to repeat yourself. She gives you a thumbs up before you both wander off. You eventually see Mindy and her girlfriend, Anika, on a couch on the opposite side of the room. Anika has a pumpkin cropped shirt on with some blue flared jeans and a bucket hat, her legs over Mindy, who was dressed simply, but you could tell she was going for a simple costume look. You just couldn’t squint your eyes enough to see the same on the corner of her shirt. Your eyes lead you to Chad, who was without a shirt, but had a large cowboy hat, jeans, boots, and an obnoxious cowboy belt. Next to him stood his roommate, Ethan Landry.

Ethan was newer to the group, not always around but still present. You’ve known him for about 6 months, and within those 6 months slight came feelings for him. He was cute, really cute, having fluffy, curly black hair, plump lips, and eyes that could break your soul. You’ve always wondered how he doesn’t have any girls going after him. I mean, why wouldn’t they? He was also a typical nerdy guy. Being cute and a little dorky you thought was the perfect combination.

You walk over to the pair and see them both take a shot, but Ethan spit his back out into his shot glass. The guy wasn’t a fan of drinking, either.

“Hey cool kids”

You say to them sarcastically referring to their costumes, specifically Ethan. He smiles at you.

“Hey, y/n/n, you did come! I’ll bet you’re glad you did, huh?”

Chad says, nudging you with his elbow. You shrug your shoulders at the scene, looking around to the same wildness you saw before.

“Eh. It’s more of your scene definitely.” You shouted.

You look back to Ethan and scan him up and down, eyebrows knitting together, forming a guess in your head as to what he’s dressed as.

“I’m a knight from Murder Party.”

He says lightly to you, having that no one has been correct when seeing his cardboard costume. You nod your head and make an “ah” shape with your mouth. He then leans in so he can hear you better, and vise versa.

“A fairy? That’s not really what I thought you would go for,” He says closer to you.

“It’s what I got on short notice. Better than that stupid attempt at a sexy nurse or something. Also surprised that you got that.” You shrug.

Chad disagrees with the statement, but you nudge him in the side. You notice Ethan’s eyes linger on you every moment or so. Not to say you didn’t either. You never really noticed it, but the guy had muscles. He was wearing a plain long sleeve blue shirt underneath the cardboard, and even in the dark, his arms were defined.

It was hot. He was hot.

But that’s not something you would ever admit. Nobody had a clue, not even Tara, that you had a developing crush for Ethan. But you couldn’t help it. You were around him a lot of the time, and your eyes could just never seem to look somewhere else. Like at another guy.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when Anika approaches you three.

“Big guy. You’re needed.”

Chad glanced at you with quick worry along with Ethan, as you three follow Anika to the scene of some older looking guy dragging Tara up the stairs, mumbling something to her. You and Ethan make your way through the people gathering around to see what’s going on. Chad approaches the guy with a fake smile on.

“Hey pal. No private tours for this one, mkay?”

“Sorry bro, didn’t catch that.” The guy, Frankie, says, clearly drunk. His eyes were slightly glossy and his speech was slurred together, his eyelids drooping a little as well.

“Yeah, bro, you did. Tara’s good down here.” Chad says irritated.

Tara chimes in saying she wants to, followed by Frankie drunkenly agreeing with her and began dragging her by the arm upstairs, Tara’s expression turning from happy to discomfort, a tinge of fear evident. Chad grabs Frankie by his shirt and yanks him to ground level. Ethan quickly put his hand around your arm and pulled you back a little. You’re a bit surprised at his action but don’t try to pull away, leaning back to him. His fingertips were warm on your arm and his hands were soft. And you never realized how large his hands were. Pushing you once again from your thoughts, before Chad can show the guy, Sam comes in out of nowhere.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, I’m just gonna taze you in the balls real quick.”

She then electrified Frankie and he fell to the floor screaming at Sam.

“Fucking bitch!” Frankie screams while groaning in agony.

Tara immediately storms through the crowd and out the door, mortified and angry. You glance behind at Ethan, then to Chad, seeing his face confused as to what all just happened, then you all follow suite to Tara and Sam.

You catch up, yet keeping your distance to the sisters as you hear them arguing, Tara fuming and unpleased. You all stop behind the two and witness the argument, eyes going back and forth from one girl to the other.

“That guy was an asshole and he was gonna take advantage of you-“ Sam starts but Tara cuts her off.

“So? If I wanna hook up with an asshole that my decision. My decision! You’re out of my life for five years and now you can’t leave me alone for five minutes!” Tara’s voice gets higher as she gets more agitated just talking about Sam’s actions recently.

“See why I don’t live with them? I love them, but the drama.” Mindy whispers to you, Ethan, and Anika. You purse your lips and look at Mindy.

“Sorry” Mindy whispers back, averting her eyes and stepping back to Anika.

Ethan leans down to your ear,

“Is it this bad all the time?” He questioned in a curious tone.

“Sometimes yes, sometimes no.”

Sam and Tara bicker quite often. Quinn has never been to bothered by it, usually doing other things, but you on the other hand, are always around to hear them. Occasionally you’ll go over to Mindy and Anika’s, but if they’re busy then you’ll go stay with Chad and Ethan. They normally know what it is when one of them opens the door to see you standing there with a pillow in your hand. Not that it’s a big deal, sometimes you just do it to spend more time with Ethan.

Usually you and Ethan would end up playing cards, study, or even watch a movie until you both fell asleep. You also used to just sleep on the couch, but Ethan has recently let you sleep in his bed while he either takes the couch or the floor. You refused at first, saying it wasn’t necessary, by the boy wouldn’t take no for an answer.

In the mornings it was Ethan who was up first, stretching and checking the time on his watch set on the nightstand. He was careful not to wake you, seeing as you were still sound asleep with the blankets all about. One leg would be over the covers while the other was under, you turned on your side and face against the pillow. One thing that Ethan noticed as well, was how you still looked perfect to him even after turning around all night. Your tank top accentuating your curves well, also being enough to where your cleavage would show a little. But Ethan wasn’t uncomfortable, in fact he got a little aroused by the simple sight of you a few times. But you also chose to wear that to bed, so maybe Ethan’s eyes might linger a little longer. Exactly how you intended.

What wakes you up is the closing of his bedroom door, leaving you alone to sleep for a bit. You sit up and stretch, feeling the warm sunlight through the cracks of the shut blinds. You swing your legs over to the floor and walk towards the door to the kitchen. You see Ethan, who is currently sipping a cup of coffee while reading his Econ textbook. His hair is quite fluffy and his eyes are intently focused on the schoolbook in front of him. When the cup moved away from his lips, they move against each other to savor the taste of the caffeine. He doesn’t even notice you standing there until you say something.

“Econ? Really?” You express as you walk over to sit with him.

He sets his mug down, giving a slight laugh and smile at your comment.

“I have an exam in two days, I can’t risk anything.”

You smile and shake your head, still loving the smart boy in front of you, even if he willingly reads from a textbook in his weekend free time.

You don’t notice it at first, but your eyes don’t leave him. He looks up at you before you can look away. He raises an eyebrow at you and smiles with the left of his mouth.

It stays silent for a while as you hold your coffee and take a sip, the steam still visibly coming from the caffeinated drink. Not many sounds are heard except the flipping of the textbook pages and the honks of cars from NY traffic.

You eventually finish your coffee and get up to refill it, knowing you have many lectures that day. You walk over to the machine and start to pour the liquid in the mug. You place the pot back in its place and then around, only to be met with Ethan’s tall frame facing you. You nearly shriek from the startle.

“Ethan! Why would you scare me like that?”

You say as you exhale and hold a hand over your chest, the other leaning against the countertop behind you.

Ethan doesn’t say a single word. He just continues to watch you, his eyes scanning over your figure.

“Eth? You alright?” You hesitated.

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine,” he nods and bits his lip a bit.

You then feel his hand snaking on your waist, slowly pulling you towards his.

“Last night, at the party..” He begins slowly.

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you, you know.”

His voice is deep. He sounds like a sexy villain in a movie, almost. Why is he acting like this?

You can feel his breath on you.

“How could I not? Even going for a simple costume, I couldn’t look away..” He trails off.

You were now flush against him. Your mouth felt dry and you needed to clear your throat but didn’t want to ruin the silence. You felt your heartbeat quicken, your stomach whirl.

It felt good.

Ethan’s eyes were still on yours, burning with something. A passion. Something you couldn’t quite pinpoint, but so badly wanted to. His fingertips slightly squeezed your hip, his other hand to your side on the countertop. His arms were tanned, flexing from his hand slightly moving. His nostrils flared a bit with every breath out, his lips pursed a little bit.

He leaned closer to your ear, your eyes following him until they couldn’t anymore. Barely above a whisper, he muttered a phrase that made your heart beat everywhere, your palms sweaty.

“Really makes me want to wreck you.”

[the-hopeless-haze]

Worried About You

Chapter 4 of If You Want It, You Can Bleed On Me (House x reader)

“I need Vicodin,” Greg says to you, walking into your office. Well. Your office when you were here. You scowl slightly at the day-old coffee in your line of vision and think about how you’ll be scolded by the other people you share the office with the rest of the week when you inevitably forget that it’s there.

“Funny. I’m not your dealer,” you say.

You and Greg had hit it off, so to speak. Much to everyone’s chagrin and surprise, you continued seeing each other inside and outside the hospital. It wasn’t something either of you spoke about. Psychiatrists (or psychiatric doctors of nursing) are the worst patients and the best repressors. You did what you had to to be able to function like a member of society, but you were as fucked up as the rest of them. And you see Greg is similar. USA-renowned, if not world-renowned, diagnostician—but that was all he had besides a bum leg and a healthy dose of chronic depression and reliance on opiates to function.

When you finally had sex -heterosexual sex, dick in pussy sex - it was a frenzy fueled by alcohol and weeks long of teasing, and you saw glimpses of his leg in the midst of it and he saw the scars scattering your arms, but beyond the “oh, so you tried to kill yourself” he said to you when he edged you on the brink of orgasm the umpteenth time (and oh, boy, was that a mood killer) there were no comments about either.

But he kept you around and you weren’t entirely certain of why. It’s only been a month or so, and he’s not calling you his girlfriend or telling you he loves you, but he’ll still wine and dine you before railing you. And you don’t know if it’s out of obligation, if he feels like even though you’re not a hooker he has to pay you for sex, or if he genuinely enjoys your company. You think about how dissimilar you are to Wilson and how that’s the only person he keeps close. You wonder if maybe you remind him of his live-in ex that you’re almost certain he never got over. It’s a good time though, regardless. You make each other laugh. You both love The Rolling Stones. You begrudgingly agreed to be dragged to a monster truck show one night (“Wilson won’t come with me” he whined) and in return you made him go with you to see a local band perform that he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in.

It was that sacrificing that made you pretty close to a real couple. Wilson pointed it out to you and he no doubt pointed it out to Greg. You made a snarky comment about his marriage and you wonder if you should compare notes with Greg to make sure you’re both not using the same lines.

You don’t know why you keep him around either, so it’s fair. It’s nice to have a fuck buddy, you suppose, and it’s also nice to almost like them as a human being rather than a sex toy. It’s certainly not because you think you can cure him, because you know you can’t. You wanted sex and you didn’t want a rehash. All things considered, he was a thorough lover and cared about getting you off as much as himself, which somewhat surprised you given how selfish he can be in other settings.

It’s not a bad arrangement. At least not right now.

But you’re fucked and you know it. It’s why you were drawn to work with kids in the first place. At least you’d always have a leg up on them. Someone out there thought you were sane enough to be rent an apartment and be a licensed prescriber.

Oh. Speaking of.

“Come on. You have a license to prescribe. Just once,” he begs.

“Yeah. No. I think you’ve got me confused with Wilson.”

“You’re much hotter,” he offers.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It got you in my bed.”

You smirk, shaking your head. “Yeah. Fair. But that’s as far as it’ll get you. You can be lackadaisical with your license, but I’d like to keep mine until I want to retire.”

“How’d I get with such a goody-two-shoes? Even Wilson will play.”

“He’s not now, apparently. What gives?”

“I bet Cuddy clinic hours that I wouldn’t take Vicodin for a week. They’re all convinced I’m an addict.”

You snort. “Okay. I hate to point it out so bluntly, but this is prime behavior for addiction. Searching all channels to get a fix because you can’t go a week without it?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Okay. I’m going to do the week. But I need someone on standby. I’m only doing the week, and I don’t know that I’ll be able to get it prescribed afterward.”

“Chronic pain is outside my scope of practice. Best I could do is a suboxone MAT and say I’m detoxing you off Vicodin and keeping your substance use in check, but even that’s pushing it. There’s a conflict of interest.”

“You can’t keep the clinical and the personal separate?”

“Nope. Could you? If I was your patient this week, would you be able to? Bringing your ex-girlfriend into this is what got you into this mess. Don’t bring me in to try to fix it.”

“I’m not asking you to fix it. And you have a medical background. I’m asking you to write the order I’m asking for. I know how to manage my pain.”

“Why don’t you get through this week first? Then maybe you’ll take me up on the suboxone,” you say, crossing your arms.

“You think I’m addicted?”

“Jesus Christ, Greg, you’re smarter than this. You know what happens if you consistently take opiates. I know you need them for pain. I’m not denying that. But to think you’re immune to the side effects? It’s habit-forming. You know this. You’ve been taking it for years. You’re going to have withdrawal symptoms. You should be doing this in a detox facility if anything.”

“I work in a hospital. Opiate withdrawal never killed anyone, anyway,” he says, seeing no point in bluffing to you any longer.

“Maybe not. But you’ll suffer. I’ll meet you halfway, hm?” You say, looking up at him. “I’ll prescribe you comfort meds for the week. Ease you through it. Mirapex, vistaril, zofran, clonidine, bentyl…”

“Most of those aren’t exactly in your scope. If you want to be technical.”

“If I lose my license for any of those the board has far too much time on their hands. But you’re right. I’ll get Chase to sign them off.”

“Chase?”

“He’s the most desperate to get laid out of the three. I bat my eyelashes enough he won’t even question who the scripts are for.”

“Chase? Look at him. If he’s not getting laid none of us should be.”

You scoff. “I guess pretty boys do it for you, but not for me. But no…I can tell. He reeks of desperation.”

“It’s desperation to be liked by authority. Not desperation for pussy. He’s swimming in it.”

“Okay. We’ll see if he folds,” you say, winking.

Greg sighs. “Is this some kind of game?”

“What isn’t, with you? It’s all games, it’s all puzzles.”

“Why Chase?”

“I told you. I know you’d rather me go to Cameron, but unfortunately, I don’t think flirting would get very far with her. Foreman will never fold.”

“You don’t have other doctors you work with you could ask?”

“Greg, it’s just fucking comfort medications that you probably will have too much pride to even touch. Again. Not risking my career for you and letting people that actually respect me think I’m a nutcase because I slept with you.”

“So… you want to fuck Chase. Right?”

“Where in that insecure little man brain did you think of that? It’s your other head, right? I must want the sexy Australian because all the other girls are doing him? Because I want to ask him to prescribe meds? For you?”

He shrugs. “Matter of time. ‘Oh, I had to blow him, that’s the only way I could get him to do this’ or ‘oh, honey, good news, he said if I sleep with him three times a week he’ll prescribe your Vicodin’.”

“Stop with the immature bullshit. If I wanted to fuck him, I’d just leave you, not worry about the meds, and do it. Grow up, Greg,” you mutter, walking away.

“Then why don’t you?” he challenges, hating himself as the words leave his mouth, hating how unattractively juvenile he was coming across. But there were reasons, the need to push you away to see if he would get pulled back, the need to be contrary, the need to know. Know what, exactly, he’s not sure.

He already knows he’s in for one of the worst weeks of his life. Even if the withdrawal symptoms are mild, he’s going to be in terrible, unmanageable pain, and all the Tylenol and Motrin in the world aren’t going to even come close to touching it. And he’s going to be more miserable than usual. No pain relief. No euphoria from the high when he takes just one… or two… or three extra than he needs. He knows he’s addicted. He tries to roll it off his back, saying it doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t change perceptions of him, it’s something he needs for pain, and it doesn’t affect his ability to practice medicine.

But sometimes he’s afraid. When James looks at him in concern but doesn’t offer any solutions because there aren’t any real ones, are there? He needs opiates for pain. Nothing else will work. Whether it’s pure heroin or your gold-standard synthetic hippy bullshit medication-assisted treatment… it’s still an opiate. Naloxone embedded in the pill or not. Having to go to a clinic to get dosed and having to have checks and balances on his use or not. It’s still an opiate. There’s still a stigma. It still pinpoints his pupils, lowers his respiratory rate, and hopefully, hopefully, takes the edge off so he can function but he knows. Addiction isn’t his specialty, he never wanted it to be, but he knows. One day it’ll be his last Vicodin, or the Vicodin won’t work anymore, and hey, you know what’s instantaneous? Spinal morphine. Can only use that card once or twice, have to tell Wilson he’s in excruciating pain and guilt him into enabling. He’ll only go so far. And then…well, then it’s IV heroin or fentanyl, whichever is easier to get, whichever is cheaper.

Greg knows that addiction treatment centers are revolving doors. He knows that you saw the same people back and forth and back and forth sign in and sign out, sign in and sign out. Change their medication plans a million times. And some of them still died anyway.

He’s afraid. He’s afraid of dying by his own hand by accident, alone and blue, nodding off forever. Sometimes he wishes for it, an end to the pain, but he also doesn’t want people to find him like that. A predictable end to a predictable story. World-renowned diagnostician died the same way a poor broke junkie did on the streets. Hooked on drugs, overshot it.

And it’s not that he thinks he’s better than those people. He knows he is those people. Even prior to his disability he dabbled in drugs, never enough to create a habit but enough to definitely indicate the potential of a problem. He’d tried almost every illicit substance “just to see how it felt” by your age. It feels good. Drugs feel good. It’s how they work. And your brain wants to feel good. It’s how they keep working and you keep using.

He knows. He’s in a vicious cycle he’ll never claw his way out of.

And you know it, too.

And yet you’re wasting your time fighting with him instead of walking away.

Why?

He doesn’t know that.

“Yeah. Why don’t I fuck him?” you snark back, turning on your heel and walking back toward him, drawing him out of his pity party and back into the misery he created for no reason other than to drag you down with him, make you choke on it with him. “I don’t want to. That’s why. I want to fuck you, although believe me, that thought is getting less and less appealing every time you open that fucking mouth and speak.”

“It does have better uses,” he quips, shrugging, almost visibly relaxing at hearing he was chosen, that he hadn’t scared you off yet.

You roll your eyes. “When does the detox start?”

“Now. It’s been a couple of hours.”

“So you wanted to kick it off and try to put both of us in a shitty mood to start with? Not your brightest idea, huh?” you ask.

He doesn’t say anything and you nod, feeling slightly more in control now that you rendered him silent without any arguments. “Go home. You can’t think clearly if you’re going to be actively detoxing.”

“I still have to make them think I can function without it,” he says after pausing. He would’ve lied to you too, put up a façade with you too, but that’s the thing about addiction. It’s easy to hide dependence to people who don’t know what to look for, but you do. And you would smell it on him.

“I thought you didn’t care what people think?”

“I don’t.”

“Then why take the bet at all?”

“I’ll get out of clinic hours.”

“Right. You would never do something like this to prove a point,” you say sarcastically, leading him out of the office. —————- “Why are you with him?” Chase asks. “And you care enough about him to ask me to use my medical license for a script.”

“You’ll see I don’t care enough about him to risk using mine,” you counter. “It’s comfort meds. Just write the scripts and I’ll leave you alone and we can go back to never talking, which is honestly how I prefer it.”

“I’ve done nothing to you.”

“Right,” you mutter. “I’ve heard enough, though.”

“Does he… what does he say about me?” he asks, a look between bewildered and terrified crossing his face.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Forget I said anything. You’re fine, I’m sure, I just don’t want to be entangled in the team. I already work with Wilson. One facet of House’s life needs to be separate from me.”

“Right. So you’re asking me to prescribe him medications.”

“As a doctor. Which is your job,” you point out. You sigh, looking at the pretty blond man sitting in front of you. Maybe Greg was right to be afraid. Most women your age would be begging to spread their legs at the thought of carrying this man's children. He's more stable, at least comes off that way, and he doesn't have an addiction and a crippled leg.

“Why stay with him if you know he’s an addict?”

Why are you staying?

You look at him for a second, reading his face. “You hate people that struggle with addiction, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say I hate them. I just think they don’t realize the pain they cause and it’s unfair to the sober people in their life.”

“Everyone is someone’s burden,” you say.

But why did you take him on?

“So you think he’s going to detox.”

“I know he’s going to detox. Which is why. Once again. I’m asking you to prescribe him comfort medication for the aforementioned detox.”

“You guys really like each other, huh?”

Why did he take you on?

“No. I want my week to not be miserable. This might lessen it a little bit.”

“Oh, and you’re deflecting just like he would.”

“Just prescribe me the damn meds, Chase.”

“You’re going to be miserable anyway,” he says, shrugging as he takes out his script pad. “You owe me one.”

You know he's not wrong.

“Yeah. You’ll get a psych consult on the house,” you agree.

“Why’d you ask me?”

You sigh. “Can’t ask Wilson. Too close. So it had to be one of you three. Foreman just wouldn’t. Cameron would ask me too many questions and she’d tell everybody.”

“And me?”

“Process of elimination, really. Thank you, you know," you say, deciding to leave out the part where he gets off on sucking metaphorical dick for the chance at appealing to authority. Sometimes you wish you were as crass as House. You come up with some good ones if you could only find the guts to just say them.

“He’s not going to take them.”

“Probably not. But I’m doing my part.”

“As what? His girlfriend?”

“His… friend,” you clarify, and you walk out of the office with the scripts in tow to fill at the pharmacy. Later you hand them to him and he takes them without a word. He opens all the bottles, takes one of each pill in his hand and he pops them dry. Terrible for his esophagus, you tell him, and he mutters something about how he’s wrecked his liver and everything else has to catch up. He opens a bottle of wine and you lean against his chest, barely processing the cheap soap opera flashing in front of you on the TV. He's already sweating, you can feel his shirt damp against your cheek. You don’t know why you’re here. You don’t know why he made a show of taking all those pills in front of you. Maybe to show your efforts were appreciated without having to say the words, even if he thought it was stupid. Maybe it was a desperate attempt to make this all suck less. Maybe it was because this was bending the rules a little, a detox with help, however minor, and he always wanted to see how far he could push before the consequences could roll in. Let’s cheat a little. Instead of a slice of pizza on a diet let’s have a hydroxyzine in a cold turkey detox.

He asked you to come over tonight but he hasn’t said much of anything or initiated much either. Why does he want you here? To know he’s not alone this time, that you’re willing to face the brunt of this pain with him when it returns, like Stacy was unwilling to?

You don’t know.

You don’t want to know. It’s best he keeps that information in his own head where it belongs. You don’t want to get too attached, too close, too entangled. This is fine how it is.

But you still wake up drenched in sweat that isn’t yours.

[morrigan-le-faye]

Likelihood of companions showing up in Veilguard: my thoughts

So, I was thinking about Veilguard and who I want to come back, so here’s my take on who I think is coming back!

Warden: lol no bitch, we’re never seeing them again. That would require giving them a voice and personality. Likelihood is we get another letter.

Alistair: We’re pretty far from Ferelden, if you made him king I could see him getting a mention but not marching his ass up to Tevinter/Rivain/Antiva/the Anderfels. Possibly another letter. If you kept him a warden, he’s either dead or could possibly show up in the Anderfels? I could see whoever got left in the fade tying in with the Veil Jumper plotline, maybe.

Morrigan: Possibly? Theres a possibility if she drank from the well she’s now bound to Solas because of him killing Mythal. I could see the Veil fuckery doing some weird shit to Kieran though.

Leliana: If you made her Divine, definitely. If you didn’t, I wouldn’t say so. She had such a big role in Inquisition, I don’t see her playing a huge role here.

Zevran: We’re in Antiva, we better see the boy! He is canonically with a romanced Warden in Inquisition, but I could see him taking a break from that to take care of Antivan things for a bit.

Wynne: canonically dead. Sad for her. RIP mage granny.

Sten: He’s the Arishok now, I see him tying into the Qunari plotline.

Oghren: please god no.

Shale: I hope so, but since she was DLC I would doubt it.

Loghain: He’s dead babe. Either you killed him in Origins or I’m assuming like nobody saved him in the Fade in Inquisition, and see what I said about the Veil Jumpers in Alistair’s section.

The Awakening Squad (minus Anders/Justice): doing this as a collective cause I’m not typing all that out. Probably not. Might see a couple of them if we go to Weisshaupt while we’re in the Anderfels.

Hawke: If you left them in the fade, again, could show up with the Veil Jumpers. Since there is a possibility they’re dead, I could see them just sending a “hey I’m fine in Kirkwall” message if they’re alive.

Anders: maybe, maybe not. This game seems like it’ll have less emphasis on the Mage/Templar conflict, but we haven’t seen him since 2, so who knows.

Fenris: We’re in Tevinter, I’m hoping he shows up! Let us help him kill slavers please.

Merrill: Seeing how Solas’s agents use the eluvian network, I could see her showing up again. Possibly with the Veil Jumpers

Isabella: I don’t think so. If she shows up, might be part of the Lords of Fortune plotline.

Sebastian: No. Might get referenced, but he is DLC.

Aveline: I don’t think so either. I think she’s too busy keeping things together in Kirkwall. Also ACAB includes Aveline.

Carver/Bethany: If you made them wardens, possibly show up in the Anderfels? But seeing how customizable their appearances are, I doubt it.

Blackwall/Rainier: Again, possibly in the Anderfels. Or elsewhere if he didn’t get recruited into the wardens.

Bull: I hope so, I wanna see the chargers for at least one mission. But since he can be dead if you kept him loyal to the Qun, don’t have high hopes.

Cassandra: if you made her divine, sure. I could also see her leading remnants of the inquisition if she isn’t divine.

Dorian: We’re in Tevinter. If Varric or Harding don’t mention they have a magister friend that can help, I’m going to be very disappointed.

Vivienne: Again, if she’s divine, yes. If she’s not, probably a letter writing cameo.

Cole: I could see him having a very cool plotline with the Veil breaking down and him either being a spirit with human elements or a human with spirit elements.

Sera: I could see the Friends of Red Jenny playing a role, if not her specifically.

Bonus Advisors:

Josephine: Maybe. Could see her helping with Inquisition remnants like Cassandra.

Cullen: No, cause Greg Ellis is an asshole.

[cicimunson]

Sweet Child of Mine Part 5

Series Summary: You’re Eddie’s former best best friend. The two of you drifted apart freshman year of high school and now you’re more enemies than anything else. Despite the hostility between the two of you, you still come around to help out with his eleven-month-old sister, Emma, who he and Wayne keep most of the time due to his father being in jail and his mother being an addict.

Also, I know Sweet Child O’ Mine didn’t come out until 1988, but the song is just so perfect for the story.

Pairings/Characters: Eddie Munson x Female Reader, Wayne Munson, OC characters Emma Munson, Wendy Munson and Greg Thompson, cheerleaders Amy and Lucy

Chapter Summary: Eddie comes to visit while you're sick and you two get nostalgic remembering old times.. There's a bit of an altercation at school and Eddie is stunned when you take his side. Emma hits a milestone and the three of you go out to celebrate. Eddie is starting to feel something for you, but he can't quite figure out what it is.

Warnings: Reader is sick, mentions of Eddie's mom being an addict, I think that's it? Let me know if I missed something.

Word Count: 3k

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|Part 6

Whatever Eddie was sick with doubles down on you, forty-eight hours in and you're sprawled on your couch, unable to combat the cough or fever.

You wish your parents were in town, but unfortunately they were both gone for work. Not that they'd be much comfort, but it would be nice to have someone's presence in the house.

There's a knock on the door and you drag yourself up, groaning.

Eddie is standing on your doorstep, smirking when he sees you. "Hi. You look like hell."

 You groan. "Come to relish in my pain, Munson? Low, even for you."

"Actually, I brought your homework. And Wayne insisted I bring you some of his homemade chili, said it’ll cure anything you have.” He thrusts the bag under your nose and the strong smell of spices makes you gag.

“Shit, you really are sick, huh?” He observes. “I didn’t get any stomach trouble with mine.”

“Must be my luck.” You mumble, heading back to the couch. "You can go, I’d like to be miserable in peace.”

"Oh, come on, ducky, don't be like that."

You whirl around, reaching out to grab the back of the sofa when the movement makes you light-headed.

Eddie is overwhelmed by the urge to reach out and steady you. It surprises him.

Instead he steps closer and asks: "You okay? Maybe you should sit down."

You nod and resume your spot on the couch, tucking your legs under you.

"You haven't called me ducky since we were kids."

He sits in the recliner across from you and cocks his head to the side, looking confused. "I haven't?"

"Nope."

"Oh, well, do you still want to be a duck?" He jokes.

You giggle. When the two of you were small,  your elementary school had taken a field trip to a farm and you had been fascinated by the baby ducks swimming around the pond behind the barn. You had told everyone that you were going to be a duck too, crying when your teacher had told you it was impossible, then sobbing harder when she scolded you for crying. Eddie had kicked her in the shin and hugged you.

If you wanna be a duck, you can be a duck.

And you'll still be my best friend?

Of course. You'll be my little ducky.

And the nickname had stuck. At least until freshman year.

Eddie studies your face. "What are you thinking about?"

You sigh softly and shake your head. "Nothing. And yes, sometimes I still wish I were a duck."

He grins. "I knew it."

For a moment, all feels right between you two again.

"Um, thanks for my schoolwork. And thank Wayne for the food."

He shifts his weight back and forth in his seat, looking uncomfortable. "Yeah, well, I owe you a thank you, too."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"

He looks down at his feet. "The other night, when I was sick. You didn't have to take care of me. You could have left, or even camped out in the bedroom with Emma. But you stayed with me."

Your heart beats a little faster.

"So, I just wanted to say thanks." He finishes, still not looking from the floor.

"You're welcome, Eds. I'm glad you're feeling better."

He smiles softly when you use his nickname.

"So do I need to force-feed you Tylenol? Make you soup?"

"I'm fine, thanks. I'd hate for you to catch this again."

"Yeah, me too." He stands up, wiping his palms on his jeans. "But if you need anything-"

"I'll call. Thanks again."

He nods. "See ya, ducky."

Your heart does another little flip-flop as he leaves.

Don't. Don't start thinking the two of you can be friends again. Every time you get your hopes up, he crushes them.

But you can't help but hope just a little.

__________

You're back in school two days later, stretching with the rest of the cheer squad before the pep rally. You see Eddie walk into the gym and you give him a small wave.

He flips you off, but with a warm smile on his face.

You pretend to be offended, then act like you're reaching in your pocket to look for something. He watches as you pull out your clenched hand, then open it to flip him off in response.

His smile turns into a grin.

Amy nudges you. "Maybe don't flirt with the freak in front of the entire school, huh?"

You give her a frosty glare.

After the pep rally Eddie approaches you. You're taken aback at first, normally he doesn't even show up to these things, ditching to hide out in the woods behind school.

"You got a minute?" He asks, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

Amy sticks her pom-pom out in front of you as you take a step forward. "Actually, we're busy. You can stalk Y/N some other time."

Eddie smirks at her. "Seems you're the one a bit obsessed, seeing as how you're trying to control who she talks to."

"Amy, it's fine. Eddie and I are fri-" You trail off, not because you're embarrassed, but because you don't know what your actual label is. "We're cool." You finally say.

She leans in close and whispers loudly. "Oh my God, Y/N, are you doing drugs?"

"What? No! Jesus, Amy, why would you ask me that?"

"Well that's the only explanation I could come up with." She replies snidely."Unless what Greg says is true, and you're really friends with the freak."

"You aren't, are you?" Lucy asks. "I heard he's into…" She looks at him and then whispers to the other girls. "Devil worship."

They all gasp dramatically while you fight the urge to giggle.

Eddie hisses and the girls shriek.

"Devil worship, indeed!" His voice booms, intimidating and loud. "I was looking for a virgin to sacrifice, do I have any volunteers?"

"Hey, is he bothering you, ladies?"

Fantastic, just what this conversation needed.

Greg comes to stand at your side, clenching his fists as he glares at Eddie.

Amy wraps a hand around Greg's bicep, batting her eyes dramatically. "He said he was going to sacrifice us to the devil!"

Oh please.

"He said virgin sacrifice, Amy. You're safe. Hell, thanks to you, half of the football team is safe." You retort.

Her mouth drops open. "How dare you!”

Greg scowls. “You aren't honestly defending that freak, are you?"

You shrug your shoulders. "Maybe I am."

Eddie's eyes widen. He'd have never expected in a million years for you to be sticking up for him.

Greg scowls. "I told you Y/N, you hang out with the freak long enough, he'd rub off on you."

"Then I guess I should go. Wouldn't want it to rub off on any of you." You roll your eyes and walk away, Eddie on your heels.

You stomp out into the parking lot. Eddie follows behind, pulling his keys from his pocket. "Need a ride?"

"Take me to see Emma, please. She always calms me down."

He nods understandingly. "Yeah, me too."

He opens the passenger door of his van and you get in, wrinkling your nose as the smell of cigarettes and weed hits your nostrils.

Eddie chuckles when he sees your face. "Just crack the window. Wouldn't want you to get a contact high." He teases. "Although you might be more fun with a little buzz."

"Haha." You roll the window down a bit. "So, did you need something?"

He's drumming on the steering wheel, looking lost in thought. "Hmm?"

"You walked up to me. Back at school?"

"Oh, yeah. Emma's appointment with the specialist is Monday. I was kinda hoping- I mean, if you wanna come, you know, you can.”

He wants me there?

Eddie looks embarrassed to have even asked you. He'd never admit the truth, but he needs you there. The thought of going without you terrifies him.

You nod, relieving him of his misery. He breathes a sigh of relief, masking it as a cough so you won't notice.

"Um, it's in the morning, 9 am, so we'd have to skip first period, possibly second."

"It's Emma. I'd skip a whole week if she needed me."

Eddie nods. "Yeah, me too."

He pulls into the driveway and you hurry into the trailer, eager to see her. Emma squeals when you walk in, holding her plump little arms up to you.

Wayne smiles. "She's missed you."

You scoop her up and hug her tightly. She grumbles slightly and pushes at your chest. You loosen your grip and plant kisses on her cheeks and forehead.

"I missed you so much while I was sick, Emmy, did you miss me?"

She pats your cheek affectionately.

"That's my sweet Emmy." You coo.

"Em-me."

Eddie gasps from behind you. Wayne comes up off the couch, looking shocked.

You turn to Eddie, your mouth falling open.

"Holy shit, did she just say her name?"

You jostle her slightly to reclaim her attention.

"Say Emmy, baby girl, say Emmy one more time!"

She blows raspberries and squeals.

"Come on baby, one more time for your brother and uncle, say Emmy!" You prompt. "You can do it. Emmy!"

She looks up at you. "Em-me."

You shriek happily and Eddie does a little jump of excitement. 

Wayne claps his hands, letting out a cheer.

"Oh my God, she said it! She said her name!" He exclaims.

"Emmy!" She repeats, realizing it gets a big reaction.

"That's right sissy, you're our Emmy!" Eddie praises. "Our smart little Emmy."

Eddie is ecstatic. He can't remember the last time he felt this happy. He kisses Emma's cheek and then turns and kisses yours also before he even realizes he's done it.

Your mouth drops open. You realize Eddie is staring at you in shock, so you shut it quickly, busying yourself with smoothing Emma's curls and straightening her overalls.

Eddie turns away from you, touching his fingers to his lips. Other than Emma, he'd never kissed anyone. Girls had tried when he was younger, of course, and every now and then a drunk girl would throw herself at him at the Hideaway, but Eddie always shot them down. He didn't like anyone's hands on him, and certainly not their mouths.

Your cheek had been soft and warm. Another couple inches to the right and he'd have kissed your lips, he realizes. Would you have let him? Would you have kissed him back?

"Eddie?" Your voice jolts him out of his thoughts. He turns back to you and Emma, forcing a smile on his face.

"I asked if you had any ice cream? I think Emma deserves a treat for being such a smart girl." You tickle her, inciting squeals and giggles.

"I don't think so, but we could always go out." He offers.

"Sounds great. I'll go change Emma's diaper." You head to the bedroom with her.

Eddie can't help but touch his lips again. It was just a peck, it didn't last more than a second, but he felt…something.

He notices Wayne grinning at him and snatches his hand from his mouth.

"Don't say a word." He warns and Wayne chuckles.

"Hey, I'm over the moon right now. Emma talking, you smooching Y/N-"

"I did not smooch her."

"You two are making leaps and bounds today. Next thing you know Emma will be speaking French and you and Y/N will be getting married." He teases.

"That'll never happen. She'd never want someone like me. She's into jocks and popular guys."

Wayne cocks an eyebrow. He can't help but notice Eddie didn't say anything about not liking you.

"You're right." Wayne agrees. "Besides, Emma would prefer Spanish to French."

Eddie narrows his eyes. "Don't be cute, uncle."

Wayne holds up his hands defensively. "Me? Never."

You come back into the living room, carrying a freshly-changed Emma. You'd wiped her face clean, Eddie observes, and stuck a little pink bow in her hair.

"We ready to go?"

"You kids have fun."

You turn to Wayne. "You aren't coming?"

"No, I think I'm gonna take a nice long nap while the trailer is empty." He winks at Eddie over your head.

"Well, enjoy your nap. We'll try to be quiet when we come back."

You head outside and help Eddie fasten Emma in. She protests being sat down but when Eddie starts the radio she instantly perks up, clapping her hands as Eddie sings along.

Your mind drifts back Eddie's impromptu kiss. You reach up and touch your cheek, still feeling his lips on your skin.

Eddie glances over at you, smiling to himself when he sees your hand on your face.

Maybe she liked it. Maybe she would let me do it again. Do I want to do it again?

You realize Eddie is staring and move your hand from your cheek, feeling a blush creeping up your neck.

"Stop staring, weirdo. Watch the road."

"Pft. You wish I would stare at you."

You roll your eyes and suppress a smile.

Eddie parks the van in front of the ice cream parlor. He scoops Emma out of seat and the three of you go inside. You wave to your mom's friend who runs the place, then slide into a booth.

The waitress comes hurrying over, instantly cooing over Emma.

I don't recognize her. Must be new.

"Oh what a cute baby, how old is she?"

"She'll be a year old in two weeks." Eddie replies.

"She's so precious. Does she want some ice cream?"

"She'll have a scoop of chocolate and vanilla, I'll take a chocolate shake."

She turns to you.

"And for you, mama?"

You blink up at her. Huh? 

It dawns on you. She thinks Emma is yours. And most likely that Eddie is her daddy. 

Eddie grins mischievously at you. "Yeah, mama, do you know what you want?"

"Um, just a vanilla shake is fine."

When she's out of earshot Eddie doubles over, laughing hysterically.

"I'm gonna kill you, Munson."

"Oh come on, that was hilarious…mama."

"You're so gross." You roll your eyes, but Eddie can see the amusement on your face.

The waitress comes back with your order a few minutes later. Eddie helps her unload her tray, pushing your milkshake towards you.

"Here you go, mama."

You glare at him. "Gee, thanks, daddy."

Eddie's breath hitches. You don't notice, thank God, as you're trying to keep Emma from putting her hands in her ice cream.

He can't deny it. He felt something when you called him daddy. A twinge, a twitch. Call it what you want, but it excited him.

"Eddie, your shake is gonna melt."

"Maybe I like it melted."

"Okay then, weirdo, let it melt."

Emma succeeds in getting a hand in her ice cream. She squeals when she realizes it's cold and smears it down the front of your shirt.

"Oh, Emmy, careful!" You grab a napkin and wipe her hand, pushing her ice cream out of her reach. She shrieks indignantly.

You dab at the ice cream on your chest.

"Edward, a little help?" You snap.

He grabs a napkin too, blotting a stain on your left breast. You blush and stiffen.

"I meant with Emma." You say quietly.

Eddie could kick himself. Of course you meant with Emma.

You continue dabbing at the stain while Eddie feeds her. How have we gone from "don't fucking touch me" to him practically groping me in less than week?

Eddie can't even look at you. He has no idea what's come over him. For some reason he wants to touch you. He likes feeling how warm and soft you are. He's just so confused as to why.

You all finish eating and Eddie pays. You insist on leaving the tip since he covered the tab. The waitress waves goodbye, remarking to a customer what an adorable family you three are as you leave.

"Do you want me to take you home?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind. I need to do some studying before the game." You look up at him. "You should come tonight. Bring Emma."

"I've got Hellfire."

"Oh, I see. Do you wanna meet up after, get some dinner?"

"Won't you be going to your boyfriend's big party?"

"How did you know about that?"

"His friends have been buying off me all week. Can't keep their traps shut about it."

"I didn't plan on going, honestly. And for the millionth time, he's not my boyfriend."

"Does he know that? He jumped to your rescue pretty quickly today. And I saw the way you stared daggers at Amy when she grabbed his arm."

"I was staring daggers because they were being rude to you."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, it is."

Eddie starts the van. "They're assholes, Y/N. I don't understand why you associate with them."

"I have to, for cheer."

"I don't understand that, either."

"My mom was a cheerleader, Eddie."

"So?"

So I was hoping it could be something she and I bonded over. I was hoping she'd want to come to games and stuff to see me cheer.

"Just forget it. Of course you don't understand."

Eddie falls silent. You're right, he doesn't understand. Your mom was hardly ever around, same as his. Sure she wasn't an addict like Wendy, but she was neglectful like her.

Eddie pulls into your drive. You say goodbye to Emma and get out, muttering a goodbye to him as you shut the door.

Eddie watches as you sprint up the walk and into your house.

"Well, Emma, I think I made her mad again. I just can't win with that girl."

@aedicn @sidthedollface2 @saramelaniemoon @zahra10999 @natasha84 @harrys-tittie @urallidjits @booksarekindaneat @mxcheese @nightless @adaydreamaway08 @cloverjean @starrywhitenight @eli-lilies04 @eddiemunson95 @livasauras @cluz1babe @aunicornmademedoit @neewtmas @harrystylesandthegoobs @cancankiki

[rhaenella]

Ed Speleers: Filmography 2010-2023 🎥

Deathless (2010) — John Ray

A Lonely Place to Die (2011) — Ed

“It was certainly a physical experience, definitely. I think from a stunt element, I try to do as much as producer jurisdiction would allow me to do. But you can’t take any credit away from a fantastic stunt team, and Jamie Edgell was a brilliant stunt coordinator. […] Wherever possible I tried to be as hands-on and do as much as Julian [director] wanted me to do.” [x]

The Ride (2011) — Student

Metamorphosis: Titian (2012) — Actaeon

“I was very excited to get involved. I think the initial reaction was to see Luke and Remi [directors] and seeing some of their previous work was what really drew me in at first. And then you start looking at the National Gallery, and then you start realising that Titian is, obviously, a fantastic artist. To be able to recreate one of the great paintings was a fantastic opportunity for me.” [x]

Love Bite (2012) — Jamie

“My mum told me I was always comfortable with nudity as a kid, but I think as I got older I’ve become rather uncomfortable with it. It’s one of those things where the director just comes up to you ‘right, Ed, today you’re naked, and you will be running through the streets of Glasgow’ – ‘alright, okay, let’s do it, yeah fine’. And the cameras are rolling, and whilst they’re rolling you think nothing of it. But it’s when the cameras go off and cut, you suddenly look around and there’s fifteen men in North Face coats with cigarettes and big, burly beards just staring at you, and you think ‘yeah, I’m definitely naked, alright then, wicked’.” [x]

Turncoat (2013) — Nathan Reece

Plastic (2014) — Sam

Downton Abbey (2012-2014) — Jimmy Kent

“It was a very special time working on the show. But the character himself wasn’t at the forefront. When you’re downstairs, and Julian Fellowes, the writer, his emphasis is on the upstairs – that’s the world he knows very well. And the downstairs characters quite often bridge the gap between upstairs and downstairs, but you’re not always front and centre, which is fine. You’re part of an ensemble, part of the process. And actually, there I had to learn how to be a part of an ensemble, or learn how to be a part of the big scene, maybe not having to say a great deal all the time but learning how to be present. Learning how to be on the ball. Learning how to respond to others, whether it be very subtle looks or whether it be just learning how to play a little bit.” [x]

Wolf Hall (2015) — Edward Seymour

Howl (2015) — Joe

Partners in Crime (2015) — Carl Denim

Interview with Ed for BBC’s Saturday Kitchen hosted by James Martin. James: Your character is like a playboy character, would that be right? Ed: I wouldn’t say playboy… James: Rides a motorbike? Ed: He rides a motorbike, yeah… He rides a motorbike. [Audience laughs] James: I know this cause he [Ed] didn’t ride a motorbike. Ed: No, no… I unfortunately couldn’t ride the motorbike. I’m really rock ‘n roll, clearly. It was a beautiful bike as well, a Triumph Tiger. So, I think, at some point, you will see a shot of me riding off on the bike and then it’ll cut to a slightly wider back. [x]

Remainder (2015) — Greg

Alice Through the Looking Glass (2016) — James Harcourt

“Getting to work with some of the people that are involved was a key element, and knowing I was gonna get scenes with Mia Wasikowska was a massive drawcard. I think as a young actor, it’s not just about scripts sometimes, it’s who you might be able to be rubbing shoulders with and in the sense of who you might be able to bounce off with. And also, working with James, it was a real delight to work with James Bobin. I thought he was a wicked director, really in touch with comedy and comedic timing. For me, it was a nice opportunity to get together with some really good people so, it made sense to me to do it.” [x]

Beowulf: Return to the Shieldlands (2016) — Slean

Interviewer: Slean is very angsty and frustrated when we meet him. Do we discover any new layers to him as well? Ed: I hope so. I suppose that depends on how well I play him, really. But I think characters – good characters always have some sort of light and dark anyway, and I don’t think it’s a clear-cut case of him being a bad guy. Yes, he’s angsty, but he’s got a lot to be angry about. [x]

Breathe (2017) — Colin Campbell

The House That Jack Built (2018) — Ed

“It was like being on a stage. There was nothing to worry about. […] We were allowed to do whatever we wanted, and we kind of tore the place apart. You could feel the camera coming in close, you could feel it going wide. It was such a liberating way to work. […] He [von Trier – director] gave me one note: ‘can you get some chewing gum?’ Not because my breath stank by the way, it wasn’t because of that. It was because he just wanted the detail of the chewing gum, he said, ‘try that’. And a mate and I went to go and watch it, because I was curious to see how the whole film had turned out, and he was like ‘mate, you chewing gum, what a great move’, and I was like, ‘yeah, yeah, I thought that’d be good’. [Laughs] No, I did go on to tell him it was Lars von Trier’s idea. But I thought, that tiny detail, I was a small supporting role but to have little ideas like that, they are minute details and behaviour things, I suppose. But it shows someone who’s got great attention to detail to be able to offer that up.” [x]

Zoo/Death Do Us Part (2018) — John

For Love or Money (2019) — Johnny

Outlander (2018-2020) — Stephen Bonnet

“His physicality is immensely important. I looked at a lot of rockstars. Because I think a lot of frontmen and rockstars, don’t quote me, they have sociopathic/psychopathic tendencies. [Laughs] There’s something about a frontman, like Liam Gallagher or Mick Jagger, and all of those… I’m not saying I took directly from them, but I think I did try and play with the notion of Stephen Bonnet being this 18th century rockstar. I mean… I just did. [Laughs] I thought with the piracy thing and everything, but then you intertwine that with the fact he also considers himself a gentleman, that to me just sounds like a modern-day rockstar. That sort of confidence that they exude, that’s where a lot of the swaggering element came from.” [x]

Against the Ice (2022) — Bessel

You (2023) — Rhys Montrose

“The difficulty was how to place myself, mentally, in that state of being tortured. What that would be like, what substitutions I could find and what power of imagination I could use. […] But I think we [Penn Badgley and I] had a really strong respect for one another and what one another was trying to do. And actually, we just trusted each other. So, when you get to a scene like that, it all comes down to trust. And he’s so great to act against – it’s not minimum requirement because that’s lazy and I don’t think that’s true. But if you offer yourself over to someone who is going for it inherently, something is gonna work, something is gonna happen.” [x]

Star Trek: Picard (2023) — Jack Crusher

“I think the time period is one thing, and obviously you have to adapt to that, but I feel that the skillset is still the same. You need to be applying to what’s the script telling me? What’s the character telling me? What am I feeling, what am I thinking? ‘How am I gonna get out of this situation?’ is normally what Jack’s thinking. […] But what I did feel early on in some of those scenes was: I can’t let other people down here. I’m stepping up to the plate with some big heavy hitters who know this inside out and they’re not gonna, even if they’re the nicest people in the world, which they are, they’re not gonna take prisoners or suffer fools gladly. So, you’ve got to match them and you’ve got to surpass that as well, I felt. I relish that because I felt it tuned into Jack as well. So, it was a lovely little way for me to step into something that was like, ‘Okay, come on there, guys. What have you got? I’m gonna bring you this. Let’s see what you guys have got. Let’s have some fun and let’s play.’ And I love that.” [x]

[specialagentlokitty]

John x reader - do I make you nervous?

Part two:

You had just pulled up to the station when your phone started to ring, so you picked it up and stuck it on speaker as you started to look for something in your car.

“Detective Inspector (L/N) speaking.” You said.

“H.. hi. It’s Uhm.. it’s John. John Watson, you Uhm.. you gave me your number not long ago…”

You smiled a little and sat back down in your seat.

“Well hey Watson, didn’t take you long to call at all.”

“Well.. Uhm.. well I.. i was just thinking about what you said and uh.. maybe.. maybe if that offer was still available I could take you up on it?” He asked.

You hummed a little and nodded to yourself.

“You certainly can, you pick a time and I’ll tell you where I am.”

“O.. okay, yeah, I’ll let you know.”

He quickly hung up and you laughed to yourself, stuffing your phone into your pocket you grabbed the file you had been looking for and made your way into the station.

Walking through the walkways of desks, you made your way to your friends office and slipped in, closing the door behind you.

“Aren’t you suspended?”

“Yes, but I had this case that really needs worked so I need you to do it. Plus I’m suspended but I can still do my paperwork.”

“No, you’re being forced to still do your paperwork get it right.” Lestrade smirked.

He took the file form you and flicked through it.

“There isn’t much here.”

“Rest is in my office, am not stupid enough to walk around with a whole case file Greg, gimme a little credit.”

He laughed and followed you to your office and you handed him a second file to look through as you sat down.

You gathered some paper work and looked up at him.

“There really isn’t much here. I don’t know if I’m able to work on this.”

Lestrade sat in front of your desk and you looked at him.

“I know, okay? I know that. I know there isn’t much, but I can’t work on it while suspended they made that perfectly clear. I’m not asking for you to solve it Greg, I just need you to follow up on those leads is all.”

He furrowed his brows a little in confusion and looked at you.

“I’m asking as a friend, I need you to do this for me it might be my only chance to get them.”

“You think it’ll lead you to him?” He asked.

You shrugged a little, twirling your pen between your fingers before you gripped it tightly.

“I don’t know, helpfully yes. Because when I find that son of a bitch I’m going to make him wish he prayed to god every day.” You said lowly.

The pen snapped under the pressure you were putting in it, and you just looked at your ink covered hand.

“I’ll see what I can do, I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Thanks, I’ll be here.”

You watched him leave and sighed to yourself.

You didn’t want to bring Lestrade in on this, but you only had a short window to speak to those leads, and since you were being watched like a hawk by the higher ups while you were on your suspension you couldn’t do it.

They would take you off this case immediately if they couldn’t so much as a breeze of it, so everything was in your own time, when you had days off or when you finished work.

Getting up, you started making your way to wash your hands free of the ink.

“Lost a fight to a pen?” Anderson mocked.

“Keep mocking, I’ll break your nose again.” You snarled.

He raised his hands and backed away from you while you kicked the doors to the toilets open.

You washed as much ink of your hands as you could and started to make your way back to your office when you were stopped by Donovan.

“What?”

“I know you’re suspended but Lestrade isn’t in and I need to ask you something.”

Gesturing for her to follow you to your office, you kicked the door shut once she was in.

You weren’t a big fan of her either but you were still their superior officer so you had a duty to do.

“I just needed him to read through this and sign it, it needs to be filed immediately otherwise we could loose the whole case and she’ll walk free.”

You took the paper from her and looked through it.

“If I sign this you could loose the case either way you know that right?”

“Seriously?” She sighed.

“Did you really think they were gonna let a suspended detective inspector sign a court paper?”

“I mean I was hoping.”

You set the paper down on your desk and looked at the time, if you didn’t want to loose the whole case it had to be signed soon.

“There is a way we can do this. Do you have all the papers?”

“No, Anderson has them.”

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Get him and all the papers you have for this case and bring it all to the my office, there’s a loophole around this.”

She nodded and rushed away and you sat down, checking your phone you saw you had a message from John.

John: if you’re free now maybe we could go on that date?

You smirked a little and replied.

You: Sherlock driving you mad I take it. I’m at the station come by my office.

Setting your phone down you looked up at your door as it opened and closed again.

“What the hell do you want?” Anderson asked.

“I’m doing my Job you bitch you wanna loose your case and let your murderer walk free?”

“Well.. no..”

He set everything down on your desk and you quickly organised it all.

“My suspension papers haven’t actually been filed yet, they need you to sign one of them since it was you I punched in the face.”

“And you don’t want me to?”

You rolled your eyes.

“No. I know you’re going to. I know you have a meeting right now so you can sign them, I’m coming with you, if I can sign these papers in front of a high ranking officer before you sign those papers then the case can go ahead and go to court. But, I need you to give me permission to go into the room.”

“Why the hell would I do that?” He scoffed.

“Because we’ll loose everything if you don’t!” Donovan snapped.

You stood up and gathered the papers under your arm.

“I don’t like you, you don’t like me. But, I know you don’t want to loose this case, Lestrade is out and only mr or him can sign these, so, you need to bring me to that meet Anderson.”

He scowled and crossed his arms.

“No, we’ll just wait.”

“We don’t have time for that!” Donovan yelled.

“I’m not taking this freak to my meeting to get them suspended!”

“Oh fucking hell you moron I don’t want to not get suspended I’m trying to save your case because if you loose it you’re going to be pulled up, both of you written up and investigated for not doing your paperwork on time!” You snapped back.

He looked at you.

“Wait what?”

“They’re going to launch an investigation against both do you for misconduct if you let a case this huge fall. So, are we going to that meeting or what?”

“Anderson please, just take them to the damn meeting.” Donovan pleaded.

Anderson looked at you and finally he nodded his head and you quickly followed behind him into the office.

“Well this is shocking, are you not signing these papers? Did (L/N) intimidate you not to?” The man asked.

“No, I intimidated him to bring me so I could sign these papers in front of you, while I’m still active in my role before you suspend me.”

You took the pen from the table and quickly scribbled on a few bits of paper, handing it over to Donovan who ran off with it.

“Lestrade is out, and without that signature a very dangerous woman was going to walk free.”

The man nodded his head and you turned to Anderson, glaring at him a little.

“Next time don’t take the piss with it if you want to keep your cases.”

“Oh shut up.”

You stuck your middle finger up at him and walked out of the office and made your way back to your office where Lestrade was waiting.

You nodded and you both walked in.

“I couldn’t get much, but this is what I could get.”

“Thanks, anything’s a help.”

You stuffed the file into your bag and started to clean up the mess you had made on your desk while quickly looking at all the papers.

“Is there anything else I can help with?”

You shook your head and tossed your bag over your shoulder and you both walked out of your office while you locked it.

John was walking over and you waved him over and turned to your friend.

“I signed some papers on your behalf, since I’m suspend for two weeks you’re going to have to take point on it because I can’t.”

“On my behalf?”

“Ask the incompetent moron who didn’t file his papers straight away.”

You turned to John and offered him a small.

“You’re being suspended?” He asked.

“I mean it’s what happens when you punch people in the face.” You shrugged.

He sighed and shook his head at you.

“That why you said to call you anytime for a date?” He asked.

“Yeah, and you’re cute, I’d drop work to go on a date with you.”

John looked away and you smirked, placing your hand on his shoulder you led him to your car and tossed your bag into the back while he got into the passenger seat.

You stood by the divers side, hands on the top of the car as you leaned down to look at him.

“What kinda dates do you usually go on Watson?”

“Uhm.. movies.. drinks… dinner…”

You nodded your head.

“You ever been to a car meet before?”

“Uhm.. no?”

You nodded and jumped into the car, slamming the door shut you grabbed your phone and put in a destination.

“Well there’s a first time for everything, there’s one going on right now just outside the city.”

“Aren’t car meets illegal?”

You started to drive and flicked your eyes to him before you turned back to the road.

“No, why would the be?”

“I thought it was all illegally modified cars, speeding and things like that.” He said.

You chuckled, shaking your head.

“No, there are ones like this but this is a legal car meet, it’s just people showing off their fancy cars really, some music and stuff like that.”

John looked at you, looking at the way you rested your arm on the open window as you held on to the steering wheel with one hand.

“Have you been to an illegal car meet?”

“Do you think I have?”

“No.”

“You’d be very wrong, I have been to a whole bunch of them. I’m actually going to one soon if you wanted to see the real thrill of car and what they can do.”

You grinned at him and went back to watching the road.

“Maybe we can just see how this goes.” He laughed nervously.

You laughed and for the journey there you fell into a light conversation with John, asking him questions about himself since you wanted to know him more.

You pulled up into a massive field that was filled with cars, and turned to John.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

You both got out and you started to walk around, making sure to keep John next to you so he wouldn’t get lost anywhere.

You showed him a few cars and explained to him what was going on and why there were showing them off.

“So it’s just a bunch of people who like cars looking at cars?” He asked.

You laughed.

“Yeah, pretty much, sometimes they swap cars or buy other cars, some people come to sell cars. It’s kinda like collecting merch but for car people.”

“Do you buy cars here?”

“Yeah I’ve got one from here, currently waiting for a new engine though.”

“You fix it yourself?”

“Yeah, as you can imagine I happen to get suspended a lot, so in order to pass time and make some money I fix up people cars and some old ones. Actually passed university after studying mechanics.”

John nodded his head and looked at you, watching as you watched a few people messing around with one of the cars which wouldn’t start.

“So you come here looking for cars to fix?”

You shrugged a little bit.

“Sometimes, but I also get the invites because most car meets tend to get reported to the police, I’m here to diffuse those situations and I’m the on-site mechanic for them as sometimes they can be waiting hours.”

John nodded his head and you both walked back to the car and you went to the boot so he followed you.

Opening it, you pulled out a high-vis jacket and handed it over to him, and he looked at you confused.

“Amma show you hot to fix an engine.” You grinned.

“Sounds interesting.” He laughed.

He put the jacket on and waited for you to put yours on, grab a tool box and followed you to the broken car so you could show him what you were doing.

He had to admit, it was different to usual dates, but he enjoyed it, it was so different from his everyday life, it was interesting to learn you had a wide set of skills that apparently no one knew about.

It was a quick fix and you took everything back, wiping the oil from your hands you tossed the jacket into the boot and he did the same.

“See, car meets aren’t so bad, friendly people.”

“It’s actually pretty cool.” He smiled.

“You wanna stay, or do you wanna go?”

“Don’t you have to stay?”

You shocked your head and pointed to another car, telling him they were here for the same reason you were.

He looked at you, looking around at all the expensive looking cars, then turned back to you.

“I’m actually kind of hungry.”

“Let’s go then, you pick the place, I’ll drive.”

You jumped into the car and he followed you, looking for a nearby place that the pair of you could grab food from and he finally found one.

“Can I ask you something?” John asked.

“Yeah, whatever you wanna know just ask.”

“Why do you and Anderson hate each other so much? Does it bother you that you’ve been suspended?”

You sighed and looked at John.

“It’s a long story, but to keep it short, Anderson and I knew each other growing up, he thinks I’m just like my father, and I shouldn’t work somewhere like the police force.”

John nodded his head and didn’t push the topic any further.

You had a nice dinner and you drove him back to his flat, getting out of the car you leant against it, arms crossed over your chest.

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

You nodded your head.

“Could we… perhaps go on another date.”

You smiled and pushed yourself from the car, walking over you leant forward and kissed his cheek lightly before you pulled away.

“Text a time and a day Watson, I’ll be there.”

John smiled and watched as you left before he made his way up to the flat to get ready to relax for the rest of the evening.

The date wasn’t what he thought it was going to be like, he was expecting more adrenaline, more rush, he wondered if you kept it calm and simple for him, so it didn’t overwhelm him.

He sat on his bed, laptop on his lap, and he decided to do some research on date ideas he thought you would really like, but wouldn’t be quite as scary for him but still fun and different

[ezlebe]

Day 7 - Hugging

Tom looks up, as Greg enters the break room, offering a nod. “Morning, there.”

“Hey,” Greg says, wandering over to the counter with a serious peer at the breakfast trays. He picks out a cinnamon donut of some sort, breaking out into pieces, as he turns around, “Do you want… Oh, shi-shit – it’s the day, huh?”

Tom slips a mug under the coffee machine. “Yep,” he says, absently, as he reaches out and plucks a chunk of donut from Greg’s lax hand, while he presses the farthest button on the coffee machine. “You want one?”

“Wow, it’s really happening?” Greg says, voice lifting, and he doesn’t really seem to be talking about the coffee. He appears to square his shoulders, bracing for something, “If you like, you know, need anything? I’m your guy, right?”

“Sure are?” Tom says, looking down at the coffee machine, as it sputters out and hisses a weak stream of pressed, packaged coffee. “That was the deal.”

“Seriously! Really, I know it’s been a-a difficult journey,” Greg says, now far more than a bit patronizing, as the smile thins a bit across his face. He leans in, all of a sudden, wrapping both his arms awkwardly around Tom and undoubtedly leaving a steak of cinnamon sugar across his suit. “But it’ll get better.”

Tom realizes that he’s impersonating a statue only after Greg pulls back, as he stares for a pair of beats, ignoring the way his shoulders seem to impossibly retain the heat from Greg’s abrupt hug.

“I know I haven’t been –” Greg jerks, back straightening, and seems yanked out of his odd little diatribe. “Oh, that’s Yousef.”

Tom feels a bemused moue settle across his mouth as he watches Greg hurry out of the door with his phone at his ear. He exhales slowly, glancing toward the trays, as he lifts a hand to scratch at his chin.

Did Greg do something?

Tom can’t think of a reason that he’d need some extra gentle handling, which is offensive to begin with, but maybe not without some precedent. The only thing about that, specifically, is Tom never really sees it coming until afterward, and he’s pretty sure Greg isn’t fucking psychic, so it must have something to do with him, but what? The corporate drama has cooled down to non-nuclear proportions.

He really can’t think of a fucking…

What if it’s quitting? Tom hasn’t checked his –

No. He doesn’t have an emailed resignation sitting like a bomb in his inbox, though that’s not really a surprise, since he hasn’t historically been great about – Well, except Greg seems to think Tom knows about it?

Tom checks his calendar, nothing; private calendar, nothing; the various PGM-ownedwebsites… Nothing.

Greg could just be being fucking weird. It could be he listened to one of his dork actualization podcasts and it said to… who knows, let people know you have value, or some crunchy bullshit.

~

It’s exacerbated already by mid-day.

…Or it’s all the same.

It’s damned difficult to pin down, really, because Tom doesn’t actually know what he’s even trying to dodge. He messages Greg about lunch, because he does every single day, only to get another hug, in the lobby, like it’s been more than three hours since the last one. Greg follows it up with a pat his arm, as they sit at their table to ear, squeezing it down to the wrist, prompting Tom, to some great and powerful mortification, to suffer his face heating with a flush.

Did someone die? Tom cannot think of a single person he’d give a shit about shuffling off the mortal coil that Greg would know, aside for him, and he’s definitely still around being a bewildering presence and making faces when Tom orders his lunch for him. He maybe said he’d stop doing that, sure, but that was before Greg started up his mindfuck.

“Do you feel any different?” Greg asks, as he picks at his fries, mixing together the speciality aoili and ketchup, because he’s a heathen. “Like… lighter, I guess?”

Tom glances down at his chest, feeling his mouth somewhat flatten; he’s lost a little weight recently, but he didn’t think it was noticeable. Does he look sick? Does Greg think he has the big C?

~

Tom steps out of the building onto the sidewalk with a nod to Greg, who’s fumbling typically at putting his cigarettes back into his murse. It’s another every day occurrence, mundane and comforting, to taunt Greg about leaving minutes early to eek in a last paid smoke break. He lifts a hand, clearing his throat, “Warming your lungs up for the marathon walk home?”

Greg pauses buttoning his bag with a glance up. He abruptly reaches over, as the doors close behind them, to offer an one-armed hug out here on the sidewalk. His voice pitches into a now-familiar patronizing chirp, “We should do something; you like totally held it together all day, man.”

Tom blinks over Greg’s shoulder and feels his posture briefly slump, trying hard to be irked, but finding some difficulty while leaning into Greg with a drawn out sigh. “Alright, enough,” he says, wriggling away and holding Greg out in front of him with outstretched arms. “Stop it – what the hell are you coddling me for?”

“Oh-h, you know,” Greg says, reaching up and scratching between his brows while his eyes dart away and back to Tom. “First day without the ol’ ring?”

“My ring – ?” Tom says, looking down at his hand on Greg’s shoulder and focusing on the tanline around his finger. “Right, I…” He had been conflicted this morning about it, because while the paperwork is drawn up, it’s hasn’t been signed, so he’s still married. He totally forgot about that in record time, because Greg distracted him over… it, apparently, which is sort of fittingly bizarre. “It was actually easy, ye of little fucking faith.”

Greg furrows his brows in a particularly dubious way. “Was it?”

Tom stretches his fingers out with a tight chuckle, then lifts it to wave between them. “You know what a Pyrrhic victory is, bud?”

“Yeah?” Greg says, eyes lifting with the movement, then he takes a quietly sharp breath. He briefly grimaces before it quickly slips behind a more mild frown. “Oh.”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking – the marriage, or the divorce, or the… way I asked for one?” Tom says, feeling his mouth pull to the side in a crooked grimace. “But I’m blanket statement-ing the lot of it. No more dragging around a shiny platinum albatross.”

Greg nods with a drop of his chin, brow furrowing, then looks back up to Tom’s face. “I prefer you without it, too.”

Tom exhales a weak scoff, as he squeezes his hand into a fist. He feels his face heat for the second time today; what is he, twelve?

[helianskies]

Office parties suck, please? I suffered through one last night, need someone else to do it as well. If you can have Spain or England or both in the story I'll be happy.

hi anon! i hope you have recovered from your endeavour - please have a cookie for bravery 🍪 - and pls enjoy this bc well,, suffering is temporary. Arthur is about to learn that :) (also shame on me for making this engspa but anon honey you did ask for one or both idiots and this is an engspa addiction zone i can't be stopped >:'v)

Mull

Office parties suck. There is no debate to be had on the matter, and Arthur knows his mind is not going to be changed by attending this year’s party. 

Last year, he’d been roped into it—bribed with free drinks and the potential to schmooze for a promotion he ended up losing to Greg of all people—and by the time he got home, the holiday spirit had been drained out of him like mulled wine from the keg. 

So this year, he is adamant. He is not going to the damn office party, no matter what!

…until, that is, a certain someone comes over to his desk in the morning as he’s buried in his emails, and catches him with his guard down.

“Are you coming along this evening?” someone asks.

Arthur hums to acknowledge there’s been an interaction, but his eyes are trying to make sense of the words he’s reading. Seriously, does he need to be in this email chain? He could do without the nonsense and plain stupidity, especially on a Friday!

“It’s my first since working here,” the other goes on, a muffle in his mind. “I hope it’s good…”

“It’ll be fine,” Arthur mumbles. His eyes are still on his screen. His brain is still deciphering paragraph-long sentences. 

“I was wondering, though… If you aren’t going with anyone else, would you… consider going with me? Just so I’m not the, uh, the weirdo going in alone, haha…”

His finger clicks the mouse, deleting the email. 

“Yeah, sure.”

“R— Really?”

Another three emails have since appeared in his inbox. Arthur wants to cry. 

“Mmh…”

“Wow… Thanks, Arthur!”

And at long last, he looks away from his computer, unsure what it is he’s being thanked for, only to find Antonio smiling at him. Antonio, one of few ‘friends’ in the office he has. Antonio, who’s been there for only about six months yet is universally adored. Antonio, who, at least in private, is probably adored by no one as much as he is adored by Arthur, who, as he continues to look at the other, realises what he has just done. 

He can’t even be mad about it. 

He can’t say ‘no’ now, because it would likely upset Antonio.

He can’t do anything, in fact, other than smile back at him and ask, “Shall I meet you there?” 

“I can pick you up,” Antonio offers, as his heart screams. “You aren’t far from me.”

And that is what happens, then, later that evening after the work day is over, the office is closed, and Arthur has had a chance to freshen himself up. 

He still can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe, firstly, that he is going to the damn Christmas party again, but he also can’t believe that he’s that useless a human being he hasn’t even had the decency to tell Antonio since his unwitting agreement that, actually, he doesn’t want to go! He could have made an excuse! Something like, the cat’s ill, got to run to the vet, or maybe, suit shrunk in the wash and I don’t think going naked is wise so I’m out!

But no! He’s bottled it! And now he’s there, standing in a not-that-warm venue, dying over making small talk about his uneventful holidays-to-come, and longing for his bed. 

Somewhat luckily for him, after a few moments of further lamenting, his saviour appears with another glass of hot wine (it’s all the company thought to provide other than prosecco, and he just isn’t a bubbles man!). 

“Here,” Antonio says, passing over a glass. He stands next to Arthur as the blond takes a sip and savours the warmth it provides.

“Thanks,” Arthur replies.

“No worries,” Antonio nods. “I think it’s the least I can do for you, after dragging you out here. I’m starting to regret my choices…”

The Brit just can’t help but snort, humoured. “Office parties suck,” he remarks, to which Antonio hums in agreement.

“Remind me not to do this next year,” he says. “All this effort for cheap wine and stinky cheese!”

“Not your cup of tea?”

“Not my…?”

“Not your thing,” Arthur clarifies. “Not your idea of a good party.”

“Oh! No,” the brunet responds, shaking his head before taking a sip of his wine. Then he says, “My sort of party involves better music, more dancing, and more drinking. I would hazard to say that mulled wine is not really ‘my cup of tea’ either.”

“No? Is it not a bit like sangria?”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Sorry…”

“Still,” Antonio says, “I’ll make it up to you.”

Arthur doesn’t want him to feel obliged or guilty; cheap wine and stinky cheese aside, he’s had a nice evening thanks to some shared laughter, some moaning, and some, well, cheap wine and stinky cheese. 

But in all seriousness, Antonio has been good company. Even if he would have liked to have stayed home, he… can’t deny he’s enjoyed the opportunity to get to spend time with Antonio away from the office. It’s been nice to just talk with him, without the pressure of it having to be work-related somehow, managers looming over them. It’s been nice to feel at ease, and more like themselves—more real—even if only slightly.

So Arthur tells him, “Don’t worry about it. The evening hasn’t been too unbearable.”

“Oh?” Antonio croons. “You think?”

“Yeah, well, you’re not unbearable.”

“Flattery! How kind,” the other jokes. “I’m still going to make it up to you. I feel responsible for your suffering.”

“What suffering?” Arthur remarks as he sips his wine.

“It’s like you said, no? Office parties suck?”

“Oh, yeah. For sure.” He lowers his glass. “They suck less with good company, though.”

Antonio stares at him for a moment. He can feel his gaze—can feel the warmth and nerves grow the longer it goes on. Arthur holds his cards close to his chest and says no more, his own eyes turning to the room, their colleagues, the small talk to come. 

But then, just out of the corner of his eye, he glimpses a smile. A lovely, soft, wine-humoured smile. 

That’s all Arthur needs to convince himself that… maybe not all office parties suck…

[ ficlet collection on ao3! ] [ prompt list here! ]

[patchedrabbit]

There's a Hole that You Fill.

Pairing: Gregor Samsa (Limbus Company)/M!Fixer!Reader Warnings: Vague and brief mention of violence, Emetophobia (in picture, not fic) Commissioned by @wizardofwoof Previous | Next

One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from agitated dreams, he found his room transformed around his bed into a monstrous vermin.

That is, to say, it was unfamiliar. And if he followed Faust’s explanation correctly, that entailed a shift in his psyche. So despite the metal walls appearing softer than usual, and the messages on the walls rearranged into something more reassuring, there was the kicker of not knowing what had changed, even when he knew something was off.

And the butterflies kicking in his stomach were getting awfully annoying too.

“Gregor, babe~ what’s that far-away stare for? You don’t wanna make poor Dante turn back the clock more than they have to, do you?” Gregor huffs at the woman mocking him as he slashes at one of the Rats who thought it’d be a good idea to bash on Mephistopheles. “As if— that’s the last of them, anyway. C’mon.” The Sinner hides the embarrassing expression growing on his face by pretending to clean his glasses (is that a spec of blood? Must scrub even harder!), though he never knew Rodion to be a quitter. “You can’t keep dodging the question forever… what’s on your mind?” “Nothing much. My room just changed.” “Changed how? Like someone reorganized it or…” Gregor sighs and throws his coat over his shoulder, and uses his hand to properly push Rodion away. “If that was it you wouldn’t be bugging me so bad.” Rodion stifles a smirk at that specific wording — she purposefully isn’t hiding it very well and it’s driving Gregor crazy — and leans on his head with her arm. “Why don’t you show me around then, hmm?” “Maybe if it’ll get you to shut up,” he mumbles. “What was that?” “Huh- oh, uh, nothing, sure.”

Once steel hard walls now appear to have the texture of lace, with a light pink to match. Words that once read no more have now been covered with paint, taking on the form of hearts and stars and all sorts of other shapes. Curiously, it looked different than the blood once coating the room, the red more vibrant and childlike than the rich scarlet from before. The only thing that seemed to have avoided the repaint was the ashtray residing on the counter next to Gregor’s bed. “Still haven’t given up that smoking habit? But this place seems like you’ve had a little feel-good arc, no?” “I’ll give it up once you give up your gambling,” Gregor replies, although he’s too occupied moseying to his bed and collapsing onto it to think about what he’s saying. Still, Rodion chuckles with a, “touché,” and leans by the entrance. “Is it that Fixer from the other day?” “Was — ”

“What was he from… was it Zwei?” “Yeah, I think, but—” “A little birdie told me that we got a contract that says they’ll be working with us again~” Gregor places his hand over his face and makes an exasperated sigh, pulling at his skin as he drags it downwards. He turns his head to look at Rodion, and she has the most shit-eating grin on her face. “I don’t know what makes you assume all that.” “It’s really easy to tell when you get attached, hun,” she tilts her head and places her hands on her hips, almost disapprovingly. “It is?” “Oh. Oh, Greg. “You’re fucked.”

Even as Vergilius is giving some kind of instruction, Gregor still finds himself distracted; though, it’s not like the other Sinners aren’t consistently distracted as well. He only snaps back to attention when asked if they understood… which they obviously did not. But that would be Dante’s problem, and besides, Gregor was one of the more composed fighters out of the bunch.

When they’re forced off the bus to meet up with the Zwei Fixers (something about another unusual Abnormality breakout, supposedly there’d be a Golden Bough trade-off that Gregor was certain wouldn’t go over smoothly), he finds himself stuck in one place and just staring intently, searching for someone in particular. He jumps when there’s a voice behind him. “Gregor! I heard help was hired for this mission, but I didn’t imagine it’d be you guys again!” Good God, he practically melts. But he knows better than to be caught unaware, shaking off the after-effects, and glances over his shoulder.

“Hey, bud, didn’t know you’d be here. They got you working to the bone, huh?” “Well, with the casualties from last time, we’re going to be lacking units for a while… but it’s not all bad.”

He lost his religion a long time ago, but he finds himself praying that that sort of naivety won’t get you killed. Still, it was heartwarming to see you in good spirits.

You offer a hand to him, and he stands awkwardly for a moment, unsure. Were you expecting… a handshake? He barely catches you shaking your head before grabbing his hand and dragging him along, to catch up with the rest of the group. He thinks he hears you say it's safer if we stick together, right?

It's hard to make out over the pounding in his ears.

The battles were a bit of a blur. That sorta thing happens when it's the same thing over and over; a repetition he wasn't so fond of. He was the least fond of the fact the only fight he remembered was when he got caught off guard and almost shred to bits — if you hadn't stepped in and swept the opponent away with your blade, that is. You had said the slogan then, "We're the Zwei, 'Your Shield,'" and despite how cheesy it was and how he couldn't even be certain it was directed towards him (he swore by the look in your eyes that it was, and even if he misinterpreted that, he prayed it was still true), Gregor had mouthed something in response.

He didn't say goodbye to you when the company and the association had gone their  ways, though he knew you wouldn't mind. You were far too nice to him for that.

"Geg? I'm hearing some banging, and not the good kind," Rodion spoke with a singsong voice, intruding into Gregor's room, unannounced and unwanted. It had changed again. "What's wrong?"

"...I said 'I love you.' He didn't even hear."

The taller Sinner sat by Gregor's bed, crossing her arms and sighing. "You'll just have to try again then, won't you?"

He opens his eyes slowly, sending her a glare, when her intentions finally hit him. He laughed and smothered the cigarette in his mouth in the ashtray to his right.

"Guess you're right."

[ssahotchnerr]

do you see aaron and/greg loving to go shopping with you?? them seeing you all pretty and dolled up?? you insisting you dont need that many clothes but they just want to buy it because you look pretty and they know it’ll make you happy too!

yes yes yes absolutely!!!!!!!

i feel like with aaron, it doesn’t happen as often because of his busy schedule. but if he has a weekend off or a free night he insists that he comes. half the time if you go shopping alone, it’s just window shopping, and maybe you’ll get a thing or two, but that’s not the case with aaron. more often than not, he’s the one picking out the clothes for you to try on <3 he’ll spot something and he’s all !!!! i think you’d look stunning in this, and even if you’re iffy about it, you’ll try it on just for him <3 but half the time what he picks out, you end up loving. and every time that happens, he gives you a lil smirk and offers you an ‘i told you so’ and you’re just “🙄yeah whatever🥰”. he insists on buying the clothes for you, whereas you’re like, “aaron i don’t need more clothes!! you just got me a shirt last week!!!” and he’s like: and????. if you’re not convinced, he’ll grab that clothing item right off the shelf and just simply buy it for you himself <3 when he completes the purchase, with a very proud expression on his face, you give him the most sweetest kiss and thank him repeatedly for spoiling you, because he did not have to🥰. of course, you always repay the favor, getting him a lil something so the two of you can wear your new clothes out together on a night out, and every tie he wears, you’re the one who got it for him <3

for greg, the two of you go shopping for everything together, it’s rare you’d go on a solo run. and he would be the sweetest!!!!! literally showering you with compliments the whole entire time!!!!!! the first time he went shopping with you, i can see him being a bit flustered, just because he doesn’t know what to do with himself, but the more he goes with you, he opens up completely and it’s one of his favorite things to do <3. he’s kinda actually the worst person to go shopping with, solely because he will tell you to get every single thing you try on or even mention is nice. those shoes? get them. this shirt? get that. because to him there’s nothing you don’t look amazing in. and if you’re trying something on, he. gets. so. 🥹. when he sees you, greg baby is speechless. and shopping is always his treat, he will refuse to let you pay because he wants to provide you with everything he possibly can <3 

[rodricksfilipinagf]

Wall $ex: Rodrick Heffley x Reader

When the door to the Heffleys’ opens and it’s Rodrick who answers, I inwardly groan. And outwardly. Yeah, outwardly too.

Rodrick, of course, smirks. “What, are you not happy to see me?”

“I’m never happy to see you. You’re a fucking asshole and I hate you,” I say, pushing my way in.

“Aww, Y/N, don’t be like that. I’m happy to see you,” says Rodrick, closing the door behind me.

“Fuck you. Where’s Greg? I’m supposed to be babysitting him today.” I scan the living room and kitchen, but it’s empty, and upstairs sounds pretty quiet too.

“At a friend’s,” he says casually. “Whoops,” he adds with an evil grin. “I was supposed to tell you. You didn’t have to come today.”

“You fucking dickhead, I came out all this way for nothing?” I say, storming back towards the door, but Rodrick closes a hand around my wrist.

“You could spend the day with me,” Rodrick suggests.

“I could literally think of nothing worse,” I say.

“Come on, you’re saying you’re not attracted to me at all? Not even a tiny bit?”

That’s a completely different question, but I’m not above lying. “There is no part of me that’s attracted to you.”

Rodrick lets out a laugh. “That’s so funny you should say that. Are you willing to prove it?”

“What the fuck are you thinking?”

“I play drums for you, and if you’re even a little bit wet, you have to be my slave for the day.”

“That’s fucking insane…”

Rodrick raises an eyebrow. “I thought you said you had no feelings for me at all. This should be easy for you. One drum solo and you can go home. Unless you actually do like me…” He traces the blush on my cheek that’s appearing before I can stop it and whispers in my ear. “I’m going to enjoy bossing you around.” Fuck, I’m trying so hard not to get wet already. But I can’t leave now or Rodrick will know something’s up. Maybe it’ll go away somehow.

I push him away. “Fine, Heffley. But then I’m leaving.”

He catches my hand in a viselike grip. “Aww, that’s cute. You think you’ll be able to resist me.” He leads us to the garage.

“I have so far,” I say, pushing open the garage door. I’m instantly overcome by the heat.

“You’ve never seen me play just for you before,” Rodrick points out. I settle on the couch nearby, determined not to feel anything.

This is proven a lot more difficult when Rodrick calls out, “Hey, Y/N” from his drumset. I look up and I’m smacked in the face with Rodrick’s shirt. What an asshole. But wait, that means…

Rodrick gives me an evil smirk. “I should have you lick me off afterwards. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“You won’t win!” I shout as he starts, even though shirtless Rodrick is a lot harder to resist. Sweaty, shirtless Rodrick? I’m done for.

He’s completely focused but finds the time to glare at me skewering sometimes. I try my best to control myself, but with the temperature of the garage and my own hormones, I can’t. Ughhh, this is the worst way for Rodrick to find out how I really feel about him.

My cheeks are flushing when he’s done.

He sees this and looks proud. “Looks like you’re a loser and a liar.” I try to control my heartbeat too but it’s so hard when he’s practically up against me and is so hot.

“You’re wrong,” I say. I’m lying and will lie to my last breath rather than lose to Rodrick Heffley.

“Am I?” Rodrick says cockily before pressing his lips to mine. My body takes full control as I kiss him back despite my better judgement and he’s such a good kisser that I barely notice when he unzips my shorts and his hand fingers my crotch through my underwear until I feel that unmistakable throb- his discovery that will doom me to the most miserable day of my life.

I push him away. “Rodrick-“

He chuckles. “Your crush on me is so cute. I knew you felt something for me.”

“I hate you,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow. “Aww. Look at you, being too shy to ask me to kiss you again.”

“I don’t want to kiss you again,” I say, even though I loved every second of it.

“Yeah, you do,” Rodrick says. “I’ll kiss you again later.” He fingers my shirt and a wicked glint enters his eyes. “You’re going to have to change.”

“Why do you have this?” I ask, leaving the bathroom. I have on a yellow bikini that pushes my boobs up and together on top and the bottom is practically a thong with how my ass is hanging out of it.

“I wanted to see you in it,” Rodrick reveals. He curls an arm around my neck. “I dream about you a lot. You’re never wearing much clothes.”

“Eww, Heffley.” I admit, it’s kind of stirring something in me that someone as hot as him just admitted to me that he has multiple sex dreams about me. But he’s disgusting! He’s Rodrick! He takes pleasure in making me miserable and always acts like a dick to me. But way deep down, I guess it’s always been a turn on for me.

I flush deeply and Rodrick pinches my ass hard. “You bad girl. You were thinking about fucking me, weren’t you?” He looks at me knowingly.

“No!”

“I can try to go easier on you if you tell me about a time you fantasized about me.” Rodrick stares me down hungrily. “And what I did to you.”

He’s so presumptuous and annoying! All he cares about is humiliating me. “You wish, Heffley.”

He shrugs. “Fine. Can I tell you something? You’re not as hot as you are in my dreams.”

What a jerk. “Sorry to disappoint, asshole.”

He steers my hips towards his so we’re up against each other. I hate myself for thinking he’s hot for this even though he just insulted me. “You’re way hotter. And I want to kiss you again.”

My heart burns and I feel the pounding all the way down my body. “What’s stopping you, Heffley?” I suddenly notice my breathing is becoming rapid.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were warming up to me,” Rodrick says before engulfing me with a kiss that I feel with my whole body and especially down there. This asshole knows how to kiss and at least in this way, knows how to pleasure me. I hate that Rodrick’s the one to make me feel like this.

“Still hate me, loser?” Rodrick taunts softly against my lips. He traces the edge of my bikini bottoms, which are growing wetter by the second. “I bet you really want to fuck me right now.”

“You don’t know shit about what I want,” I breathe out, even though my body is screaming out for sex with Rodrick.

“Make you a deal. If you tell me to leave you alone right now, I will. But if you tell me to fuck you right now, I will.” He grinds against me and it’s excruciating.

There’s nothing I want more than to have sex with Rodrick in that moment. Before I can make the logical decision, I hear, “Fuck me…now.”

“Sure you don’t want me to leave you alone?” He reaches under my bikini top and won’t leave my nipple along until it’s hardened to his liking. “If you thought I was mean to you before…”

“Just fuck me, you asshole,” I manage to get out.

Rodrick gives me an evil smirk that signals nothing but trouble, but it’s too late. “As you wish, loser.” My bottoms are off in a flash, and his pants and boxers hit the floor. Before I know it, Rodrick grabs me by the waist and orders, “Put your legs around me” before pushing me up against a wall.

“You know how many times I wanted to do this to you?” Rodrick asks while untying my top. He whips it off and my boobs spill out, making his wicked grin wider.

“You think about me too much, Heffley,” I say. I feel my nipples pucker. Ughh. Now there’s truly nothing to hide how hot I find him.

He flicks one of them while staring me down sadistically. “Don’t pretend you don’t think about me too. You can’t lie to me anymore.” I feel his dick slide into me and him inside me feels so good and so right. I let out a tiny moan.

“Be as loud as you want. Everyone here already knows how much you want me,” Rodrick says before pounding into me, harder and harder and harder that I can’t help but scream. “That’s more like it,” Rodrick chuckles. His lips find mine and my tongue attacks his relentlessly. And then I feel something I’ve never felt before. My first orgasm. Rodrick Heffley gave me my first orgasm. And it was amazing. I tear my lips away from his to let out an earth-shattering moan, and for the first time ever I see Rodrick genuinely smile.

When we’re done, Rodrick drags me to the couch and has me lay down next to him. “Was that your first time?” It’s the first time he’s said anything remotely sounding hesitant or gentle.

“My first orgasm, yeah,” I say. My heartbeat is so loud I think he can hear it. “Was it your…”

“Yeah,” Rodrick admits. “Wow, if I knew that, I probably would have been nicer to you.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m glad you weren’t. I don’t…entirely hate you, Heffley.”

“Oh, I know,” he says cockily. I elbow him in the ribs. “Thanks. Any chance you’d want to do it again?”

My pussy flutters at the thought. “Sure.”

“Y/N-“

“Rodrick-“ He nods at me to continue. “Thanks for making my first time so great. Um…” I feel uncharacteristically shy. “What were you going to say?”

“I wanted to ask if I can kiss you again- and take out on a date.”

“What?”

“Look, I really like you- I always have. I just- want to get to know you better. And I guess I always wanted you to get to know me. And not just the worst parts.”

“Well I know those pretty well…” I say.

Rodrick chuckles and starts playing with a strand of my hair.

“I figure you couldn’t get any worse.”

He tugs on my hair hard. “Don’t tempt me, loser.” But his eyes sparkle.

“Will you kiss me before I change my-“ his lips find mine before I can finish my sentence. I think I actually kind of might like him.

[all-the-things-2020]

No Better Place - Chapter 14

Summary: Javi gets a job offer … in San Antonio.

Word count: 2300+

The red light was blinking on the answering machine when they walked in. Chucho threw down his hat and sank into his favorite armchair. “See what that is, mijo,” he said wearily. They’d been out riding fence all day.

Javi pressed the playback button and an unfamiliar voice came from the tiny speaker. “Hi, this is Greg Montauk with the San Antonio Police Department. I’m calling for Mr. Javier Pena. I spoke with a colleague of yours, a Mr. Steve Murphy, at a conference in New Orleans last week, and I think you’d be a great candidate for a position we’ve got opening up. We’re doing interviews next week, so if you’re available, please give me a call back. My number is …” Javi’s finger hovered over the “delete” button.

“Press it and I’ll whoop your ass until you can’t sit for a week,” Chucho growled. “You’re calling him back.”

“Dad …”

Chucho grabbed the pen he kept on his side table to work the Sunday crossword puzzle and tossed it at Javi. “Write down the number and you’re calling him back first thing tomorrow,” he said. “It’s just an interview. No commitment.” He stared into Javi’s eyes until Javi had to look away.

“All right, all right,” he said, pressing the playback button so he could listen to the message again and write down the details. “Think you were trying to get rid of me or something.”

“Well, maybe I want my guest room back,” Chucho said. “I thought you might move in with Cassidy, but that’s not happening, is it?”

Javi scribbled the name and phone number onto a scrap of paper and then turned to his father. “I told you, we’re not ready for that yet,” he said quietly. “And if you’re so damned set on me and Cassidy setting up house together, why are you pushing me to take an interview for a job out of town?”

Chucho scoffed. “San Antonio is only a couple of hours away. It’s not like it’s Dallas or Chicago or DC or Colombia. I’d still get to see you.”

“But I’d be in San Antonio and Cassidy would be here,” Javi muttered. “Not like we could keep the horses in an apartment.”

“You’ll work it out,” Chucho said. “If you’re meant to be together, it’ll be okay.”

“And what if we aren’t?” Javi blurted out. “What if it doesn’t work out?”

“Then we get drunk on tequila and we move on,” Chucho said bluntly. “You can’t stay here in Laredo forever, mijo. You left before because you outgrew this place. If you stay, you’ll be stunting yourself. I don’t know what happened in Colombia, but Cassidy does, and she told me you needed some time, so I’ve given it to you. But you need to move on, Javi. Before you start to resent me, and Cassidy, for holding you back.”

“You know what? I’m tired. I’m going to bed,” Javi said. He felt his jaw clenching at his father’s words. He knew he was right, but it was too much to deal with right now.

“It’s barely seven o’clock,” Chucho replied. “What about dinner?”

“I’m not hungry,” Javi called out as he stalked to his bedroom. He shut the door and leaned against it, his eyes closed. God damn you, Steve Murphy, why’d you have to run into a guy with a job in San Antonio and give him my name? He shoved himself away from the door and sat on the bed.

It’s just an interview, he told himself. Like Dad said, no commitment. I drive up there, do the interview, odds are they won’t even want me. Or I won’t want the job, or the interviewer will be a jackass, or … He sighed. Or it’ll be the perfect job for me and they’ll love me and I’ll have to make the hardest decision in my life. The worst part was, he knew what Cassidy would tell him to do. Even if it broke her heart.

*************************************

Cassidy watched Buster prick his ears at the steer. Javi sat lightly in the saddle, the reins loose, waiting. The steer got nervous and started to move to the side. Buster tracked it and swiveled in place, keeping the cow in his sights.

“Oh, yeah,” Cassidy said to herself. She knew Buster didn’t like racing, or jumping, but he was bored in the riding arena and while he was relaxed enough on trails, he was constantly on alert. When they’d taken a ride through Chucho’s ranch the other day, however, Buster had been extremely interested in the cattle and so Cassidy had borrowed a young steer to test his cow sense.

“What do you think?” Javi said as he rode Buster over to the fence. The gelding was obedient, but kept an ear cocked toward the steer, which was on the other side of the arena, nervously looking for the rest of the herd.

“I think he’s a cow horse,” Cassidy said. “He took to that like a duck to water. He won’t need much training.”

Javi shook his head. “Never thought a Thoroughbred would want to work cattle,” he said. “Dad said only Quarter Horses have cow sense.”

“Lots of Quarter Horses have Thoroughbred bloodlines,” Cassidy said. “Most of the ones bred to race are half Thoroughbred or more.” She reached out and stroked Buster’s face. “Heck, one of the fiercest cutting horses I ever saw was a tiny little Arabian mare who wasn’t much bigger than that steer. Breeding doesn’t matter, it’s the horse’s mind and heart that count.”

“You’ll be able to get a good price for him,” Javi said. “Good cow horses are in demand around here.”

Cassidy traced a finger along the top rail of the fence. “I’m not selling him,” she said quietly.

“What?” Javi slid down from the saddle and leaned on the rail. “You’ve put a lot of time and money into him.”

She sighed. “I’m not selling him,” she repeated firmly. “Because he’s not mine.” She looked up at Javi. “He’s yours.”

“What?” Javi said again, a deep furrow between his brows. “I don’t understand.”

“You’ve put more hours into him than I have,” she said. “And he’s bonded with you. I can see that. He belongs with you.”

Javi hooked a finger through the cheekpiece of Buster’s bridle and turned the gelding’s head toward him. Buster pressed his forehead against Javi’s chest and gave a deep sigh. “I think he agrees,” Cassidy said.

Javi looked at her, his eyes dark and unreadable. “In that case, I should start paying for his keep, don’t you think?,” he said quietly. “What does it cost to board a horse these days?”

“You don’t need to do that,” she said. “Just take him home to your dad’s place. He wants to work cattle and you’ve got plenty.”

Javi shuffled his feet. “You know, maybe it’s best if you do sell him,” he mumbled.

“Why? What’s going on, Javi?” She felt a chill run down her spine. He’d been acting odd the last week or so and now this.

“Remember when I went to San Antonio a few days ago?”

“Yeah.”

“I lied to you,” he said. “I didn’t go to meet a friend for lunch while he was in town. I had a job interview.” Her heart dropped. “They called this morning. I’ve got the job if I want it.”

“And do you want it?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I … I told him I’d call back this afternoon with my answer.” He pushed Buster gently out of the way and laid one hand on hers. “Can we talk about it?”

She shrugged. “Sure, but I don’t think there’s much to talk about. You either want the job or you don’t.”

He squeezed her hand. “I do want the job,” he said quietly, “but I don’t know if I want it bad enough to leave here. To leave you.”

She took a deep breath. “I told you not to let me keep you from doing what you’re meant to do,” she said. “Take me out of the equation. And then make your decision.” She slipped her hand out from under his. “We’ll go from there. And no matter what, Buster is your horse. Keep him here, take him to your dad’s, sell him yourself … it’s up to you.” She turned and walked toward the house, no longer sure she could keep her face dispassionate. She’d known this day would come, but had hoped it would take longer to arrive.

**************************************************

Javi untacked Buster, brushed him down, and put him away in his stall before he headed for the house. He wanted to give Cassidy some time alone to compose herself before he talked to her. He’d seen her struggling to keep herself calm, seen the anguish in her eyes that mirrored his own.

He walked into the kitchen, where Linus was sitting hopefully next to his dish. “Not now, buddy,” Javi told the cat, who simply blinked at him. He continued into the house, and found Cassidy in the bedroom, sorting clothes from the hamper into two laundry baskets.

“Can we talk?,” he asked.

She continued tossing clothes into the baskets for a moment, then stood, her hands hanging limply at her sides. “Sure,” she said.

They sat on the bed. Javi took her hand. “It’s a brand new position at San Antonio PD,” he began. “A liaison between the PD and the juvenile courts, to set up and run an anti-drug program to keep vulnerable kids off drugs and out of jail.” He rubbed the palm of her hand with his thumb. “I’d be helping kids, Cassidy. Keeping them out of trouble, keeping them from getting shot or locked up.” He sighed.

“So you’re going,” she said.

“I want to,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to leave you. Dad says it’s only a couple of hours away, I can come home on weekends, I’ll see you both all the time, but …” He shook his head. “I don’t know if it’ll be enough. For you, I mean. I’ll be busy with work during the week, I’ll be okay, for the most part.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’d like to think we can make it work, but I know how life gets in the way.” She leaned against his side and laid her head on his shoulder. “I know that a week will come when the weather’s bad, or you’ve had a long week, or your co-workers invite you out for drinks, or you have to work overtime, and you won’t be able to drive home. And then another week will pass and another and you’ll come back maybe once a month. And then you’ll meet someone up there, and you’ll be lonely and …”

Javi laid a finger against her lips. “Or maybe I’ll drive home every single weekend, no matter what, because I want to see you,” he said softly. “Maybe I’ll call you every night, just to hear your voice before I fall asleep. Maybe we’ll make it work.”

She sighed, her whole body shuddering against his. “I can’t go with you,” she said. “I have the horses.”

“I know,” he replied. “I wouldn’t ask you to. I know this is where you belong.” He kissed her temple. “But I love you. I’m not ready to give up on us just because I won’t be living next door anymore.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered. “But I don’t know if love is enough. I want to think it is, but I … I just don’t know.”

Javi put his arms around her, and let her cry against his shoulder. He rocked her gently back and forth until she stopped weeping. She sat up, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You should go call him back,” she said, her voice raspy. “Tell him you’re taking the job.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

Javi left, but he wasn’t sure she was telling the truth.

*************************************************

Once Javi was gone, Cassidy abandoned her laundry. She went out to the barn, saddled up Cricket, and headed out for a long trail ride. Cricket was perfect company, ready to listen to her ramblings and not judge her. They wound through the brush, flushing out jackrabbits and even a deer down by the creek. Birds sang and fluttered around them, and by the time the sun was sinking into the western horizon, turning the pale blue summer sky to red and gold edged with fading purple, Cassidy’s heart felt lighter. She turned Cricket toward home and gave the mare her head.

It was dusk when they got back to the barn. She unsaddled Cricket and gave her a good rub down, then fed everyone. Finally, she went back into the house. She fed Linus, but wasn’t hungry herself. She poured a glass of sweet tea and sat down on the couch.

The phone rang but she let the machine pick up. After the beep, she heard Javi’s voice. “Hey, I guess you’re still out in the barn. Um, I called Montauk back and accepted the position. I start a week from Monday. Dad and I are going up to San Antonio next week to find me an apartment. Let me know if you want to come with us. Or not. Okay, well, call me when you get in, or if it’s too late, call me in the morning. I love you.”

The message ended and Cassidy sat in the silence of her house, the only sound Linus’ ID tag clinking against his plate, and the unsteady rhythm of her own breathing as she once again fought back tears.