#my ​A-90 is a fucking prick

[skeleton--orchestra]

nine one one? yes. i have some hall monitor looking ass on my ass cause he doesnt like it when i breathe :(

[raeathnos]

.

[galpalaven]

whyy are people with ultimate weapons in ffxiv either very nice or the worst person I’ve ever met in my life

[bookshelf-dust]

something’s gotta give

gif by @kwistowee

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 5,988

warnings: swearing, crude jokes, sexual innuendos, general hatred for either party, one small mention of a judgmental christian lady, depictions of an accident involving a box cutter, talk of blood and the ensuing wound, banter, both reader and eddie trying to get under each others skin, enemies to lovers trope

synopsis: eddie munson is a prick. a prick who also happens to be your coworker. you hate his guts. he hates yours. and who would think there’d be reason for anything else?

a/n: well, hello!! i’ve been working on this idea for a little bit, and it was definitely a challenge because i’ve never taken on something with this dynamic before. it was so tricky to come up with all these snarky remarks, to build up a world where it made sense. speaking of, this is without a doubt a 90s!au. i am proud of myself for trying something new and i think it turned out pretty good. shoutout to @clovermunson for listening to me vent about my struggles and helping me mold eddie into the smartass he is. also thank you to @steph-speaks for making me a cutie rb banner!! peep it at the end of the fic. happy reading!!! <333

————

“Here’s your change and…there’s your receipt.” 

You bump the cash register drawer with your hip, slamming the thick metal shut. You give a big, warm smile to the woman in front of you. She has a face full of freckles and the most beautiful silver hair that makes her blue eyes look insanely vibrant. 

She grins back at you, setting her palm on the countertop, her nails painted a pale, shimmery shade of pink. “Thank you, sweet pea. And thank you for helping me find some goodies!” She shakes her paper bag. 

You hand her a complimentary bookmark with the store name on it. “You’re so welcome. You’ll have to stop by and let me know what you think about that one!”

“Of course! You have a good day, now.”

“You too!” You give her a small wave as she walks out the door, and move to put away the store’s copy of her receipt. Your smile drops immediately when you feel a looming presence behind you. The paper in your hand gets crushed when you shove it under the counter. 

“Damn, you flick the bean this morning?” Eddie’s voice drips with malice. You know he’s wearing that sinister ass smirk before you even turn to face him. 

“Why? Need some advice on how to find it, Munson?” You grab a stack of books off the counter and slide out of the way so he can clock in. 

The sound of his boots on the carpeted floors tell you he’s following you. He always is. 

“I think it’s a valid question, princess. You’re in such a good mood it makes a guy wonder…” 

You stop in the mystery section, looking for authors with the last name beginning with ‘F,’ and begin to restock. “Well, Eddie, if I got off and that’s why I’m so bubbly today, it’s pretty clear to me that somebody gave you blue balls last night.”

He laughs, snatching a book out of your hand to put it on the top shelf when he sees you rise up on your tippy toes. It pisses you off. “Harsh, princess.”

You turn around at the sound of the doorbell, but he stops you with an arm outstretched to rest on the wall. 

You grab his hand and shove it out of your way. “I guess you should’ve put that hand to good use then and given yourself a quick, and probably little, job before you came to your real one.”

When you escape his vicinity, you look around for the customer you heard come in. There’s a young boy wandering through the back section where you sell records, tapes, CD’s, whatever the fuck. It’s Eddie’s section, and therefore not your problem. 

You hold eye contact with the man in question, giving him your bitchiest look possible. “You have a customer, Munson. And…” you glance at your watch, “I’m going on lunch.”

Eddie watches as you cross your arms and march off to the break room. His gaze falls to your ass. You’re wearing this long skirt, one that falls just above your ankles so your boots poke out. The fabric is loose and flowy, but manages to cling to your skin and he can see every curve when you walk. Every bounce of soft flesh—

“Hey, excuse me?” The voice of a boy, no more than fourteen, snaps Eddie out of his dick-controlled reverie. 

He spins around to face the kid, putting on his customer service face. “What can I do for you, little dude?”

In the break room, you stand in front of the microwave, shifting back and forth on your feet while you wait for your leftover pasta to warm up. It’s rare now for your shifts to line up with Robin’s. She is a good coworker, and you’d built up this system, this rhythm, that Eddie has never even tried to build with you. 

God, you miss her. And you fucking hate Eddie Munson. 

You pull out a chair and sink down into it, too pissed to care that you’re essentially manspreading and certainly eating like a slob. 

What angers you the most is that you tried to be friendly with Eddie when he was hired. You have seniority over him, and you were happy to help him figure out how things worked. But he didn’t give a fuck. To you, it seemed like he was too good for your help. 

But the first time you saw him ask Robin for help, you realized that he just…didn’t like you. And you don’t know why. You have always been nice to your coworkers. You have no reason not to be. Except when you get to a point that you’re forced to match their energy. 

You down the rest of your drink. You need to go out and get some fresh air, despite the fact that it’s fucking scorching outside. 

Up front, Eddie gives the young boy his receipt and a little bag full of cassette tapes, buttons, and a patch that he helped him pick out. Another child saved from the masses of pop music, he thinks. 

He taps his ringed fingers against the counter, lowering himself so that his elbows rest against the cool vinyl. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie catches a sticky note stuck to the edge of the computer monitor. 

The store’s goal total for today is written there, penciled messily in your handwriting. Eddie rolls his eyes. Why do you always have to be on top of everything like that? You’re so fucking uptight all the time Eddie’s surprised you don’t waddle because of the stick you permanently have up your ass. 

Ever since the day he got hired a few months ago, Eddie has despised you. He remembers taking a small tour of the shop and being introduced to you where you were organizing a new shipment of magazines. 

You stood, shyly fidgeting with the pin on your fitted denim vest. You were bubbly, with these sweet little doe eyes and an expression on your face like you were hoping to make a new friend. He remembers your palm feeling unsettlingly cold when he shook your hand, and now it all makes sense to him. 

What with the way you can change moods with the drop of a pin, how you manage to bring a storm cloud with you every time you walk in his direction but have everyone else wrapped around your finger. 

A cold-blooded bitch like you must surely feed on the souls of little children every morning. 

He hates how organized you are, how prepared. How you behave all patiently when you’re with a customer who’s been a prick, even though he knows it’s all an act because you’ll give him a death glare at any given chance. 

But most of all? He hates how fucking gorgeous you are. You’d think all that hatred would make you look like an old hag, but no. Instead you walk around in your skirts that show off that perfect ass and every once in a while you wear a shirt that shows the tiniest sliver of your stomach, or in some cases, your back, if you bend over. He hates when you wear those platform boots with the heels that allow you to level with him. 

And the fact that you’re walking toward him right now. 

Eddie watches as you strip off the cropped button-up you’d been wearing, exposing your bare arms. 

There’s a tattoo running up the length of your bicep that he’s never seen before. His gaze lingers on it for long enough that you catch it and raise a brow. 

“You cry when you got that, princess?” He points to the dark ink on your skin. 

You slide behind him and sit on the stool in front of the computer. 

“No, Eddie. I fell asleep. If you want to bond about how you wailed during each of your tattoo sessions, you’ll have to talk to Brian.”

He scoffs. “Guess you can handle a little prick then, huh?”

“I work with you everyday, don’t I?” You smile, but keep your eyes on the computer screen. There’s supposed to be a new shipment of books coming today, and your boss already asked you to set up the display when it gets here. That reminds you, and you speak before Eddie can give you a smartass remark. “Eddie, there’s a box of new vinyls in the back you’re supposed to sort and put out.”

“Yeah? I’ll get right on that, mom.”

You pinch your thumb and forefinger together so that you don’t snap. It’s such a shame that such a pretty man is such a fucking asshole.

The mouse starts to feel slick from your clammy hands as you click around, trying your best to track the package. Slam!

Eddie drops the box of records on the far end of the front desk, making you jump. He grabs a box cutter and pulls open the mess of cardboard and packing tape as aggressively as possible. 

Your head snaps in his direction. “Can’t you do that anywhere else, Munson?”

“Nah, babe. My only entertainment for the day is pissin’ you off, and I just clocked in.”

You facepalm. “Jesus fucking Christ, I miss Robin.”

Eddie cups his hand around the shell of his ear. “What’s that, princess? You need Buckley, huh? Bet she puts up with your shit.”

You stand up. “More like she puts up with me talking about the shit you put me through, because you masquerade as a sweet little angel when you work with her.” You’ve moved toward the other end of the counter before you can even realize, leveling with Eddie and getting in his face.

He places both of his hands on the table, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Maybe it’s because Robin isn’t a fucking priss, and actually has a personality.”

That hits a nerve, and Eddie catches the way your brows twitch. But your poker face doesn’t slip, not for a second. Your eyes flick to the front door. 

“You have a customer, Munson. I’ll go take care of the records. Oh, and they’re a chick. Maybe you can go see if she has a personality that’s up to your standards and get your dick wet so that there’s a slight chance you become less of a raging asshole.”

Eddie looks over his shoulder at the young woman who’s just walked through the door. She has long, dark hair and more piercings than he can count. She’s his type, and he hates that you clocked that. When he turns back to you, you’re already taking the box off the counter. 

“Oh, and Eddie? Fuck you.”

You get the vinyls sorted and put away in record time. 

————

If it’s possible, the next day is hotter than the last. You’re sweating the second you walk out of your front door, your hairline quickly dampening and your thighs sticking together on the drive to work. 

You put on the one short dress you own today, grateful for the fact that your place of occupation doesn’t have a strict dress code. It’s too hot to wear anything, but the thin, mesh-like fabric and little spaghetti straps will do just fine. 

Luckily for you, Eddie’s shift doesn’t start until one, so you’ll be able to have a chill morning where you won’t feel like blowing your own brains out. Knock on wood, but you even feel a little giddy because Robin opened, which means she’ll be there to welcome you and greet you with a bit of peace. 

You pull open the front door, and pick up speed, knowing the cool air is just within your reach. The sounds of heavy metal reach your ears before you see him. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” 

You consider yourself lucky that the floor is empty, because you did not consult your conscience for one second before expressing your pure annoyance that Eddie is here before he was meant to be. 

You push up your sunglasses so they’re level with your eyebrows, and take a look at the figure standing behind the counter. There is no Robin anywhere in sight. “Where is Robin? Why the fuck are you here?” You catch Eddie’s gaze drag up and down your bare legs and that good mood flies right outside the front door. 

“Why are you dressed like that?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “What’s the matter, Eddie baby? You not see a lot of shoulders in that fuck ass club of yours?”

You pull your sunglasses back down over your eyes and grin, because you’ve just seen Eddie Munson blush. That one really hit the mark, and you are immensely pleased with yourself. 

Even more so when you realize he’s following you. You start switching your hips, knowing where his gaze is. You’re not as stupid as he thinks. 

His wallet chain is jingling, his hair flying behind him as he jogs to meet you in the middle of the store. If a customer were to walk in right now, they’d see the both of you standing nose to nose, a murderous look in your eyes, and probably feel like they’d just walked in on a taping for a soap opera. 

“What do you know about my fuck ass—” He coughs, practically chokes. “W-what do you know about Hellfire?” Eddie asks. You can almost see his blood boiling. 

You put your hand on his chest. “I’m a rogue, bitch.”

The sound of your laugh reaches Eddie’s ears before he’s even registered your hand on him, your breath on his neck, and that you’ve turned around and disappeared. There’s no way you’re not a witch. Are you a witch? What does a hex feel like? 

Eddie starts walking to the stacks, suddenly encouraged to see if you carry any witchcraft-related texts. The doorbell chimes and he’s forced to spin around. 

The group of people that have just pushed through the doors is huge. At least six teenagers of varying heights, followed by four or five college-aged kids. And they all look like they’re on a mission. Two of them head straight for the records, one for the magazines, and he loses sight of the rest down the romance aisle. 

In the back, you lock up your bag and shake out your shoulders. 

Your fingers fly over the radio, quickly changing the station Eddie had chosen to one you know plays much better music. You turn the dial down a little too, having already started to feel blood leaking out of your ears. 

At the counter, Eddie watches in horror as the teenagers grab armfuls of records and CDs. What’s worse is that a family of four walk in next. An older woman walks straight up to him. “Excuse me, sir?” Sir? What is he, a fucking mummy? “Where are your bibles and Christian novels?” He catches her eyeing the ink littering his pale arms. 

“I can show you to them, ma’am. If you wanna come with me, we’ve got a whole section just for that!” Your bubbly voice meets Eddie’s ears. And so do the sounds of “There She Goes” by The La’s. 

The woman turns on you, her smile brightening, and she’s quick to follow your purposeful step. Over your shoulder, you wink at Eddie. 

He knows it’s evil. He knows he fucking hates your guts. He hates that you’ve just charmed that red flag of a woman. But he’ll be damned if he fails to admit that his zipper didn’t feel just a little tighter at that faux flirtation in your expression.

“Let me know if you need help finding anything, alright? And if we don’t have anything in stock, we can always order it for you!” 

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and you’re practically stomping on your way back to the counter. You use the walk to actually take in Eddie for the first time since you came in. 

He’s wearing a t-shirt that he obviously cut the sleeves off of at home, purely based on the way they’re fraying. His arms are…beefy, to say the least. His skin looks unnaturally soft, and his biceps are just so big and they look like they’re begging to be squeezed or bitten, even. 

Your eyes wander lower when he’s called over to help a child cart probably ten CDs to the counter. His jeans aren’t tight, not exactly. But they fit. He’s got more ass than most people would know what to do with. You can’t help but wonder what it looks like outside of that ratty denim. Or what else he might use that bandana for. 

You park yourself in front of the register, getting the system set up before the rush you can feel coming on. The cracks in the leather seat below you pinch your thighs, but you can’t be bothered to care. You deserve it for thinking of such a dickhead that way. Why are the gorgeous ones always assholes? 

A quick glance over your shoulder tells you that Eddie’s not helping kids anymore, but shamelessly flirting with a girl who can’t be more than twenty-one. She looks slightly intimidated by him, until he flashes his ring-covered fingers in front of her. You recognize that look, the one that tells you she might just eat him alive. 

You fear she’ll be immensely disappointed when she truly gets to meet his personality. 

In the time he’s been trying to woo this young lady, a line has formed, and now you’re stuck cashing people out. The Christian lady is first. 

“You find everything you needed today?”

She drops some change into the tip jar and takes a mint from the tray you just restocked. “Yes, I did, sweetheart, thank you for asking. You see that? Yes, that one—isn’t it gorgeous?”

She forces you to look at the fancy bible she’s picked out, and you do so despite the voice inside your head screaming for her to fucking pay already and get out because she’s been here long enough and the line is only getting longer. 

“It sure is!” You do your best to smile kindly. You hand her the receipt and a small card that not only thanks her for her purchase, but promises a ten percent discount if she comes back within the next month. 

The next customer is easy, a ten year old with a storybook that has colorable pages and a bookmark with rainbow tassels. You hand him a sticker and tell him you like his Gizmo shirt, and he beams his way out the door. 

When you are confronted with a set of parents who clearly have more kids than they seem to want, you feel a warm breath on the back of your neck. “You have a happy pill on you I can have?”

Eddie takes the stack of books out of your hands and places each one in a paper bag. The customers aren’t even looking at you, what with the husband fussing about inflation and How much for a paperback? and the toddler trying to eat the rug.

“No, sweetie,” you start, sliding the bag across the counter, hoping maybe the woman will notice and take her gaze off the street just outside the window. She takes it without looking at you, without a word, and the husband walks away mulling over the receipt, not bothering to do a headcount of kids. “I can’t keep up with your stash of boner pills.”

Eddie laughs. He tosses his head back, bearing his thick neck to you. It’s a slow sound. You can’t help but feel like it’s not something you should hear. It feels like the kind of laugh someone saves for a lover in privacy. And it’s so gravelly and deep. 

The line has slowed, and all that’s left for you to do is keep an eye out for the customers slowly making their way up front. 

You tilt your head a little in Eddie’s direction, signaling that you’re speaking to him. “You probably do need them though, based on the way you were eye-fucking that girl earlier. God knows you’re gonna need a little…happy to keep up with her.” 

Eddie bends a little at the knees, getting his head completely level with yours, his brown eyes twinkling with malice. “You think about my dick a lot, princess?”

You place your hand on the counter, less than an inch between yours and Eddie’s fingers. One move and they’d be touching. Hell, one step forward and your front would be pressed to his. “More like I worry about it,” you say. 

He quirks a brow, his lips ticking up at the corners. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Since I see you try and pick up a girl in the store at least three times a week and you know what? They never stick. So either it’s that you can’t get it up, or it’s that if you treated any woman as well as you treat that guitar of yours, maybe they’d be satisfied.”

Eddie takes a step forward. You’ve never been this close to him. “You know, Princess, they might not last, but based on your fucking attitude, it seems like you’re jealous.”

“Jealous?”

He pushes a strand of hair out of your face. Your blood pressure spikes. It feels like your veins are turning colors with how angry you are. Eddie has the nerve to laugh. 

“Yeah. I think all this bitchiness comes from the fact that no one will put their dick anywhere near you. They’re probably afraid you’ll make it shrivel up and die.” You don’t say anything, and he just keeps going. “Hell, I’m nice enough that I’d fuck you if that meant you’d get off my back.”

Your entire body goes rigid. And in that moment, you know that’s exactly what he wanted from you. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction. 

“Thanks for the offer, Munson. But I’d rather gouge my own fucking eyes out than let you touch me. If you wanna see me as a priss, that’s fine. But at least I’m not an insufferable prick who can’t give a damn about anyone who’s not shoved so far up my own ass and ready to fall at my feet at any given moment. Some people have to grow the fuck up.” You practically spit out the last few words, your voice laced with venom. 

Eddie blinks. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes glazed over. For the first time since he met you, he doesn’t have shit to say.

————

You and Eddie are the only ones on schedule today. 

You haven’t spoken in days, just moving around one another and doing your jobs in silence. You can’t lie about the pride you feel in your chest from having finally gotten to him. Even if the dead quiet is unsettling, you feel a sick sense of satisfaction. 

You think Eddie might’ve even mastered the art of a fake, but amiable personality. 

You’re currently hiding away in the back room, unpacking new shipments of books, vinyls, display materials, along with all the shit you actually need like paper for the register and cleaning supplies. 

Not that it matters where you are because you’ve had a total of one customer today. But that’s how Wednesday’s go. 

It’s sort of mindless, this activity. You slide the box cutter over the packing tape, rip open each box, take everything out, stomp the box flat, repeat. It’s not very stimulating, but you don’t hate it. 

The last box though is covered in enough clear tape to catch every fly in the world, and it’s taking some serious sawing to get through. You set your hand on the worn and slightly damp cardboard, bracing yourself to get one end of it loose. 

You’re just getting there when the blade finds a raindrop on the silky tape and slips free. You’re not expecting that, of course, and the blade slices the skin of your forearm quickly and thoroughly. 

You yelp, dropping the box cutter. You’re never one to wail or scream, but you let out a whimper at the shock of pain. Your non-dominant hand starts to shake as you take in the wound.

You’re too panicked to realize that your frightened exclamation could be heard up front, considering there’s no music playing and you left the receiving room’s door open. 

It doesn’t look deep enough to need stitches, but it’s bleeding. Quite a bit, actually. 

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”

There are thudding footsteps, and then Eddie appears in the doorway. “Fuck fuck fuck, what? Bein’ so damn loud.” He pauses, taking in the sight before him. 

Your eyes are glazed over, your hands shaking, and you’re cupping your forearm so as to not let blood drip all over the floors. 

“Oh fuck off, I do not need this right now!” you exclaim, knowing he’s going to berate you or say something demeaning and you are not going to cry in front of him. 

Eddie says your name. 

He never says your name. It makes you look up at him, and you almost feel nauseous at the sincere look on his face. 

“Do you need me to drive you somewhere?”

You roll your eyes. “No, Eddie. I’m not fucking helpless! And I’m not bleeding out either!”

He steps towards you, his hands outstretched like he’s a ringmaster, like he’s trying to tame an apex predator. “But you are bleeding.”

“No fuckin’ shit, Sherlock—”

“Let me help you—”

You decide to shove past him, whimpering your way towards the bathroom. Eddie is on your heels. You try to shut the door in his face, but he plants his boot firmly on the floor and prevents you from it. His glare is unwavering. 

He repeats your name once more. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Just—just fucking stop for a minute, okay? Let me help you. Let me do this one thing without any of this shit, you hear me?” 

You blink. Eddie kicks the door stopper down so it stays open. His eyes flick to the toilet seat. “Sit.”

You’re too winded to say no. So you sit down, cradling your arm, while Eddie rummages around for gauze and wipes and whatever the fuck he can find because he’s not a nurse but he has had to clean himself up on more than one occasion. 

You can’t process that Eddie is treating you this way. Like a human. That he’s insisting on helping you when he doesn’t get anything out of it. 

When he returns, he settles on his knees in front of you, looking into your eyes to make sure it’s okay for him to touch you. You hate the way your stomach flips. But the little shift in your arm tells him it’s alright. 

Eddie’s fingers are cold on yours as he turns your forearm outward so he can look at the wound. You can’t help but watch as he works on you. Takes care of you. 

He sets a paper towel underneath your arm, using another to press down on your skin and make sure the bleeding has stopped. The pressure hurts, but you don’t say a word. 

Eddie hooks his foot around the corner of the trash can, pulling it closer. He throws out the bloody towel and wets another, being as gentle as he can in an effort to clean all of the dried red splotches from your skin. 

The cut isn’t deep, but it definitely nicked a few capillaries along the way. It is a little longer though, and Eddie has to use two big pieces of gauze to cover it. This is after he’d swiped your arm with alcohol wipes, grinning to himself because of how hard you were trying not to show him any weakness. 

Eddie’s thumb lingers on your skin long after he’s taped you up. You’re both silent, sitting in your shitty workplace bathroom. You can feel that he wants to say something, but you don’t know what. It’s why you haven’t gotten up yet. 

You notice his eyes on your face before you meet his gaze. “Will you look at me?” he says. Your heart jolts in your chest. 

“What for?”

“So that I can tell you why I’ve been a giant dick since I met you and you’ll see I’m being real with you.”

Your head shoots up, mainly because you can’t really believe he’s just said those words. “Hold on,” you laugh, “You’re going to explain yourself now? After I spent all that time trying to be your friend and you—”

“Treated you like shit, yeah I know.” Eddie drags his hands down his face. You’re not sure why, but you feel compelled to listen to him. “I showed up and you were there in your cute fucking skirts and you were so nice to everyone and just so…good? I couldn’t stand it.”

You blink. 

“I’m not like that. I’m not good with people and empathetic like you are and it takes me a long fucking time to do anything right. And I chose to take that out on you, to hate you, because you were so perfect, and that was easier than falling for you.”

Your mouth drops open. He what? Eddie waves his hands in your direction. 

“Close your mouth, you’re gonna catch flies. I hated that I could’ve dropped to my knees for you the second I met you. You looked at me like I was precious, like you were happy to meet someone new, and I’m such a fuck up, such a nuisance to so many people, that there was no way I was going to let a pretty girl like you befriend me and have me ruin it all. Because the truth is, I’d kill to be as fucking good as you are.”

You start shaking your head. You feel your eyes glaze over, so you look down at your freshly bandaged arm. 

“And I realize that the only reason you’re a dick to me is because I started that shit.”

You let out the barest hint of a laugh. “It’s called matching your energy. There wasn’t any point in trying to befriend you when you…hated me.”

Eddie says your name again. “I don’t hate you. I do hate myself though, and that I was so—”

“Jealous?” you interrupt, finishing for him. 

He tugs on the hair at the base of his neck. God, this is the most ridiculous fucking thing. 

“Yeah. Jealous that I don’t have as much good in me as you do. I’d see you working, see you happy to help anyone, see you pull more weight than anyone else here. I hated that you’re everything I’m not.”

When you finally look back up at him, you’ve gone all teary, and something inside Eddie breaks. It snaps. 

“We’re not supposed to be the same. If we were, nothing would ever work. You act like you’re just—just this helpless piece of shit, Eddie. You aren’t. But I can’t make you realize that. All I can do is tell you that if you want to be more charismatic—or whatever the fuck—you gotta work at it.”

He’s looking at you with his stupid ass doe eyes, and you think you finally understand him. 

“It doesn’t matter if you’re everything I am, Munson. No one else is livin’ your life for you.” You start to trail off, but not quite yet. “I wish you hadn’t been so fucking sincere so I could yell at you.”

Eddie tosses his head back, bearing his neck to you, and laughs. He raises his hands, beckoning you. “C’mon. Let me have it. You deserve it for how many times I’ve called you a priss.”

You shake out your shoulders, and if you weren’t still drained from the box cutter incident you’d jump up and hop back and forth like you’re readying to get in the ring. 

“I get it, you know? But I also don’t think it’s fair, because, and I’m gonna be honest here, the day you got hired I thought you were so gorgeous. Trust me, I was fully weak in the knees. You were also dressed like, well, you, and I wanted to at least make friends with you because you seemed, to use your words, good.”

“I heard you crack a few jokes, saw you picking up on how things worked, and then with me it was like you had this alter ego. I just don’t think it was fair that I got the short end of the stick here, even if I did enjoy being a smartass to you. So I guess what I’m really saying is, why me? Why weren’t you a dick to Robin, or Brian or fuckin’ Keith? Why not take out your jealousy on someone else?”

Eddie stands up, shoves his hands in his back pockets. “You can hit me if you feel like it, because I know this is going to sound fucked.” He pauses, and then all the words spill out at once, leaving you completely breathless when he’s finished. 

“Not only was I jealous of how perfect your soul is, but you being so sweet made me want you. I wanted you all to myself. I wanted that personality, those kind remarks, that look you get in your eye when you’re listening so well, I wanted it all around me, all the time. It felt like you were this fucking angel, I wanted to lose myself in you.”

“But it didn’t feel like I’d be worthy of you either. I figured you’d get sick of me, real quick, when you realized I wasn’t as good of a person as you. When you figured out all the shit I need to work through. It seemed easier to hate you than to have you see me the way everyone else does. Nobody wants a work in progress.”

You laugh. You take in your surroundings, still in the work bathroom, and you laugh. Eddie’s brows shoot up, and his heart drops out of his ass and onto the tile floors below him. 

“Eddie, everyone is a work in progress. And I am an extremely patient person.”

He recovers himself fast enough to make one more smartass remark. “You’re sure you don’t wanna kick me in the balls or somethin’?” 

You take a step towards him, breathing deeply. Breathing him in. 

“Not right now, Eddie. What’s frustrating though, is how much I want to kiss your dumb ass. Your annoying, over-complicating, completely ridiculous, stupid hot fucking ass.”

Eddie blinks. You might as well have kicked him in the balls because he can’t even think a single coherent thought now. Not with the way you’re pushing up onto your toes and pulling him down towards you, shaking your head so he doesn’t make up something stupid about not deserving it. 

And then your mouth is on his. Your lips are so warm, and everything else disappears. All Eddie can feel is you. Your perfume engulfs him, the heat of your chest pressed against him, the soft fat of your hip under his hand. When you pull on his hair he almost whimpers. 

You kiss hard, harder than he’d have thought, but it’s so gentle at the same time. You’re kissing him stupid. There’s no other way to put it. The only thing that pops in his head is that his suspicions about you being a witch were totally fucking spot on. 

When you finally pull away, your lips have gone all puffy, and there’s this dazed but incredibly satisfied look in your eye. He’d take you home right now and get on his knees for you if you’d let him. 

Your lips tick up at the corners, and he has to shake his head so he can really hear what you’re about to say. 

“Aren’t we on the clock, Eddie?”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

More of my favorite Prudes <3

Alright, left to right, top to bottom:

1. I just get the vibe that Grace has beef with Richie specifically but for no discernable reason ("Richie, the whole point is that it's in the dark!" + "No, this is where you GROW UP!") and the second the sentence popped into my head I had to draw it. Also consider how goddamn funny the image of Grace pulling bleach and gloves and a bone saw out of her backpack is because holy shit did she have a contingency plan

2. I think that Pete saw Ted as the coolest big brother in the world right up until the exact minute he introduced him to Steph and suddenly Ted had the power to be very embarrassing in front of Pete's friends. (He would be used to this, as this is standard older sibling shithead behavior, but he's never had friends for Ted to tease him in front of.) I do think the Spankoffski brothers are really interesting, especially with what an asshole Ted is. In Abstinence Camp Pete does seem to really look up to him. Ted does not hide the fact that he's a massive prick, so the fact that Pete sees him as a positive figure implies that he's one of the very few people that Ted actually tries to be a good person for. Makes a lot of sense too, the age gap between them is massive, so Pete has no way of knowing the kind of sleazy shit Ted does, he's just the cool older brother to him. Also heheheh I did the funny meme

3. All her brothers got one so I gave Webby a humansona. I don't know why she ended up looking like 90s Gwen Stacy but I kinda like it? I was going for classic straight-a student, not quite as frilly as Grace, but very academic and cute. I also think that Webby should be allowed to be a little cosmically horrifying as a treat (watching her casually fucking evaporate Willabella was so unnerving and cool, I would love more of that.) She lets herself be soft and gentle for Hannah's benefit, don't want to scare a little kid after all, but she exists far beyond those... Limitations.

4. Ok this one is highly inspired by a series of drawings by @samglyph , the concept of Ghost Ruth and Richie took my brain captive. So go show them some love!!!!!

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

Sometimes I wonder if it would've fucked me up less or worse if it had been a more 24/7 thing

[foreverisntenough]

Y/N is so fiercely protective of Trent and I just know that when he comes back from matches where he either didn’t play or someone fouled him etc she’d go off on a tangent and Trent would be like trying to stop her. She’d be like “I can’t believe he didn’t get a foul or a yellow card and like everyone saw it and the ref did nothing the stupid ref and he’s so lucky I wasn’t there and-“ and Trent would be like “babe, breathe”.

Sorry got carried away, I just love your series so much 😭😅

I love this! This made me laugh. I feel like that’s their vibe as well. Y/N being in a panic and Trent being like ‘baby chill out.’

TYSM for sending!

--------- My tiny one shot below for you 🤍

‘Mighty Red’ - 1.2k words

↳ Y/N is fuming after the Liverpool Man City fixture but Trent doesn’t seem too pressed. *If your a city fan- probably don’t read lol

Other ForeverIsntEnough One Shots

---------

“Honestly though it just pisses me off because they get away with everything. That’s a fucking foul every time. Like I don’t understand what are we using VAR for at this point because it doesn’t seem to matter. It’s a card! He had you by the neck of your shirt. I would’ve hit him if I was you. What a fucking prick. I wanted to run down there and kick him in the balls like get the fuck off my man.” You rattled on in Trent’s car as he drove you home after a game at Anfield. The Liverpool City match had ended with a tie as its result and you were less than impressed.

“Wow tell me how you really feel.” Trent laughed a little as he flicked his eyes to the side towards you momentary as he drove on the M62. The lights from the motorway filled the car and splashed across your face. He couldn’t help but think you looked beautiful in your rage.

“I should’ve gone down to the pitch to yell at the ref frankly like he’s so stupid. Why are they all so dumb? It doesn’t bother you? Like this is fucking crazy. They are cheating, T. Blatantly cheating.” You yelped out continuing on with your rant. You were fuming after the matches result. There had been a incorrect (in your opinion) call from the referee that even went to VAR to be reviewed. A City player had dragged Trent down onto the pitch by the collar of his jersey after a trip and you thought it was insane the player got away unscathed, not even a card.

“I don’t know, baby. I mean what am I meant to do? I can do my 90 plus on the pitch but that’s the only difference I can really make. Only chance for impact.” Trent responded in a calm voice but with a smug smirk thinking your passion and fury at the moment was pretty funny and definitely cute.

“Well that’s shitty.” You huffed in response. You pulled your legs up onto your seat to sit in a ball, folding your arms around your knees and pulling them into you.

“Well that’s the way it is beautiful.” Trent told you and tapped at your knee telling you the get your feet, still in trainers off his car seat. He hated when anyone got his car remotely dirty and you were not exempt. No rage was going to be enough to allow that.

“I fucking hate them. Everything about that stupid club. You know what else is ridiculous? The dumb mascot, what even is that? Like what an absolute joke of a club.” Your brow furrowed as you dropped your legs back down but shuffled to turn to look at him driving, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Baby, I don’t even know what it is? Why do you even know?” He started to laugh at how ridiculous of a point you were making. You pulled your bent knee onto the seat to get comfortable again and as much as you tried to hold your expression of anger you couldn’t.

“Stop!” You began to giggle as well. “I don’t know why! Okay? But it’s fucking dumb. You know what’s not dumb? A bird. You know what is also dumb that stupid ref.” Your rationale for why you disagreed with tonight’s outcome was dismantling slowly but surely as you got closer and closer to your house. Your argument was crumbling referring to mascots, saying that Liverpool’s liver bird was far superior.

“Birds not dumb… noted. Refs… dumb. Duly noted.” Trent kept laughing at you, reaching over once more to pat your knee not with instruction but with confirmation to your words.

“T… you have to be fuming you’ve lost the league to them by a point before like this tie is bull shit.” You pleaded for some sort of emotion from him. You leaned forward resting your elbows on the center console holding your face in your hands looking up at him.

“Thank you for bringing up that very pleasant memory but I told you I can only play the game.” He responded and your lip rolled into a frown.

“You’re being too calm and it’s annoying.” You finally decided maybe you needed to give up because he clearly wasn’t going to get on the same page of vexation as you tonight.

“If I got riled up after each game I’d be exhausted and just upset. It’s a waste of my time, energy, and emotions. You know all this.” He cooed turning toward you a bit and a sympathetic smile. He picked up your chin with a free hand. He rubbed his thumb over your jawline gently waiting at the last stop light on the roads before you reached home.

“Boo! I don’t want to know about your mindful ways. You should be mad with me.” You huffed. You just wanted to vent with him and yell about how much you hated the opposition. You’d done it before but tonight, even in the confines of your car, Trent was choosing professionalism.

“Okay, pretty girl.” He cooed kissing your lips with a quick peck before turning back to focus on the winding roads leading into your neighborhood. You arrived eventually after falling more silent as Trent pulled down your drive. He parked and grabbed his bags ahead of coming around to the passager side. “To be clear baby… I know they are the fucking worst.” He whispered pulling you into a hug at the door of the car before heading in.

“I knew it! I knew you fucking hated them too. Like we should be yelling fuck City!” you eagerly and fairly giddily said to him. You stepped forward into him and he shut the car door behind you. “Fuck them!” You yelped out into the night wrapping your arms around his waist resting your chin on his chest tilting your head upwards childishly to look at him.

“Fuck ‘em!” He yelled louder then you with a smile as he swayed back and forth with you in his arms in the driveway.

“Fuck ‘em.” You echoed him in the same volume before you fell into a giggle.” He looked down at you with a love in his eyes and kissed your lips. “City honestly sucks!” You giggled in between kisses.

“I love you. You’re a very very funny, pretty girl. Thank you for coming tonight. You look beautiful as always.” He cooed softly standing in the quiet drive illuminated by the lights of the house.

“Thank you, T. Wanted to look good for my man that City players need to leave the fuck alone.” You whispered with some cheek in response, ghosting your lips over his.

“You succeeded and you know what? Tie tonight on the pitch… still winning going home with you off it.” He cooed a response that managed to make your heart flutter. “And you’re right, birds… not dumb. Mighty red. Love him.” He began to laugh, turning to walk into the house. You gasped before falling into giggles of your own chasing after him. He was giving you shit for know what the city mascot looked like when he knew the damn name of his.

⇨ Read other ForeverIsntEnough here!

[rafeverse]

tiny toes & trepidation

CW: pregnancy/pregnant!reader, rafe freaks out when he finds out

AN: although i am reposting this from oceandriveab, i still want to give a shoutout to @rvfecamerons for helping me!! <3

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as her timer went off, signaling it was time to flip over the three pregnancy tests she had just taken and face their results.

with shaking hands, she turned the first test over. pregnant. she took a deep, shaky breath as she felt tears pricking at her eyes.

she then moved to the second test. pregnant. she didn’t hesitate in flipping over the third one as she already knew what it would say. pregnant.

“oh god. oh god. oh god. oh god.” Y/N’s entire body shook and she grabbed onto the bathroom counter for support. she was breathing heavily now and sobbing uncontrollably.

“what am i going to do?” she thought to herself. “and how am i going to tell rafe?”

rafe cameron, her boyfriend of 4 years now, was riddled with mommy and daddy issues. he had never really said anything to Y/N about wanting to start a family, and she had never really mentioned it. when they did talk about it, she discovered his insecurities regarding the kind of father he would be. he never wanted to be like ward. so, to avoid ever even having a chance of maybe being the kind of father ward was, rafe just didn't want kids at all. Y/N accepted this, regardless of what she wanted, and all was well. until now.

Y/N had calmed down a bit and was now taking deep breaths, as she accepted her fate and wondered what would happen once rafe got home.

-

several hours later, Y/N was sitting on the couch when she heard the lock click and the door open. she looked between the pregnancy tests in her hand and the door quickly before sliding the tests under the blanket she was using and trying her best to remain calm.

"hey baby," rafe leaned over the couch and pressed a kiss to Y/N's lips before moving to her jaw and neck. "missed you today."

she hummed, leaning into his touch. "i missed you too."

"let me get changed and we can go eat, yeah?"

Y/N nodded and watched as rafe disappeared into their bedroom.

she let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding in and stared at the tests one last time before throwing them in her purse.

-

after dinner, as they were riding around town, rafe noticed that Y/N was much quieter than usual. most days, whenever he came home, she was running her mouth 90 to nothing, telling him all about her day. today, however, she barely spoke and when she did, she seemed anxious.

"what's on your mind, pretty girl?" rafe rubbed her upper thigh and turned to look at his girlfriend who was staring out the window.

"noth-" she went to speak, but was cut off by his grip on her thigh tightening.

"Y/N. don't lie to me." she saw his eyes turn dark briefly before he turned his attention back towards the road. "you're usually talking my fucking ear off, but you've been almost completely silent tonight. i know something is bothering you, so just tell me what it is."

"can i- can i just tell you when we get home?" Y/N mumbled, diverting her attention to her cuticles after noticing how his knuckles turned white from briefly gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

Y/N's heart rate quickened as they got closer and closer to home. she was shaking by the time rafe pulled into the driveway. after putting his truck in park, he shifted in his seat so he could look at her.

"well?" rafe was growing impatient not knowing what was bothering his girlfriend. he tried to hide the fact that his mind was racing and he was almost as anxious as she was as he thought about what she would possibly say.

"i-um," Y/N took a deep breath. "i'm pregnant."

rafe froze. his throat went dry and he felt sick. he blinked at her several times, trying to process what she had just said.

"you're what?" Y/N quickly looked over his face and body language, trying to read him.

"yeah, i-um-i've just, um, been feeling kind of weird lately and so i took some tests and they were all positive." Y/N gulped as she opened her purse, grabbed the tests, and placed them on the middle console.

rafe picked up all three tests and looked at them for several minutes, not saying anything.

"rafe, i-" she started but he cut her off, shaking his head.

"get out." he spoke, placing the tests back down and looking straight ahead.

"what?" Y/N felt tears brimming at her waterline.

"get out of my truck." rafe still wouldn't look at her.

"rafe-"

"goddamnit, Y/N, get out of my fucking truck! now!" Y/N flinched as he yelled and slammed his hands on his dashboard.

she quickly unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out of the truck. her feet had barely touched the ground before rafe put his truck in reverse and sped out the driveway.

Y/N sobbed as she watched his truck disappear. she wasn't exactly sure how he would react, but she certainly didn't think he would do that. weakly, she walked inside the house and into their shared bedroom. she flopped onto the bed and cried loudly into her pillows until she was almost hoarse.

-

rafe drove until he finally reached the one place where he knew he'd be able to get some peace and quiet- the beach. for once in his life, he was grateful it was almost wintertime. he put his truck in park, grabbed a half-empty bottle of expensive liquor he found in his backseat, and began walking towards the water.

he sat down and brought his knees to his chest, wrapping one arm around them and using the other to lift the bottle to his lips.

after he had taken a swig, he placed the bottle beside him and stared out onto the water, just thinking.

he thought about Y/N. about himself. about their baby. his baby.

he hadn't meant to react the way he did, but his mind was racing after hearing her news and he desperately needed to be alone. he needed to process what she said and what it meant.

he was going to be a father and he was scared to death. tears began streaming down his face as he took another drink. rafe never had any intentions of being a father, as he was always afraid of becoming like ward. he would hate himself if he brought a child into this world and unknowingly began treating them how ward had always treated him-cruelly and coldly.

he knew that he always said he'd never be like ward. he knew he was strong-willed and stubborn. but, was it enough? would he be able to practice the words he preached? rafe wasn't sure and this was what terrified him. he didn't want to let Y/N and their child down, but he was so scared.

he hung his head and pulled at the roots of his hair. he'd never be able to live with himself if he just left. he loved Y/N too much to make her do this on her own.

rafe took one more swig of the alcohol before chucking the bottle into the ocean. he sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. he shook his head and slapped himself on the face several times.

"c'mon, rafe. man up. there's nothing you can do about it now, so-so you just gotta accept it." rafe nodded as he spoke to himself. "you're gonna be a dad and Y/N's gonna be a mom and you guys are going to be fine. everything is going to be fine." he took several more deep breaths before finally rising and making his way back towards his truck.

on his silent ride home, he noticed one store still had its lights on, signalling that it was still open. as he got a little closer, he realized what it was- a children's boutique. he snorted at the irony as he pulled into a parking spot and made his way inside.

"hello! welcome in!" an older lady he didn't recognize smiled at him as he walked through the doors. rafe returned her smile and gave her a nod as he began looking through all of the racks and displays.

"looking for anything in particular?" the older lady questioned and rafe shook his head. "not unless you have something that says 'i'm sorry for freaking the fuck out on you when you told me you're pregnant, i'm just scared of being a shitty father'", he thought to himself.

his body stiffened when he felt a warm hand on his back several minutes later. he turned to the side to see the older woman was now standing beside him. "when did you find out, sweetheart?"

"um, a few hours ago." rafe swallowed thickly as he ran his fingers over the soft fabric of the onesies in front of him. "i kind of freaked the fuck out and left...so i could think."

the woman gave him a sad smile, nodding and rubbing his back as she listened. "that's just part of it, son. you're both freaking out and scared right now, and that's okay. that's normal. what matters is that you stay by each other, stick by each other's sides. you'll learn as you go, but you'll never have everything figured out. you will never be a perfect parent- a perfect father-and that's okay. as long as you have each other, you'll be fine."

rafe felt a few tears slide down his cheek. she was right. the two of you would be fine. you'd figure this out together and everything would be okay.

he sniffed and quickly wiped his tears away, turning to the older woman and smiling. "thank you."

"of course." she squeezed his shoulder before walking back towards the front counter.

rafe grabbed several onesies he knew Y/N would love and went to check out. the lady spoke again as she bagged his items. "you know, you're already doing better than a lot of dads just by going back home to her."

rafe chuckled at this as he slid his card back into his wallet and grabbed his bag. "thank you."

the older lady smiled at him one last time as he walked out the door.

-

Y/N grew anxious as she heard the rumbling of his truck entering their driveway. she was fully expecting him to storm in, pack his bags, and leave without another word. when she heard him open the door and close (not slam) it, she couldn't help but feel a bit confused. she sat silently against their headboard, biting her thumbnail as she waited for him to reach their bedroom.

"Y/N?" rafe called as he walked down the hallway. when she didn't respond, he began walking a bit faster. he let out a breath when he saw her sitting in their bed.

"hey." he gulped, looking her up and down. he could tell she had been crying alot. her eyes were puffy and red and there were spots all over the sleeves of her t-shirt from where she had wiped her nose and eyes.

"baby, i'm so sorry." rafe sighed sadly. he placed the bag of onesies on the floor, grabbed her chin and moved it gently to make her look at him. his heart broke into a million pieces looking into her sad eyes. "i'm so sorry. i know i shouldn't have yelled at you like that, but, i was just scared. when you told me that you’re pregnant, i just...i felt all of these-these emotions at once and i just freaked out. i needed to be alone so i could think about what this means for me and for us. i know i should've just told you that, but i couldn't. i just went to the beach for a little bit. i thought about how scary this is and how i never want to be like my own father. i never want to let our kid down like he did for me so many times. i don't want to let you down. i'm just scared. i'm really scared, Y/N. "

seeing rafe cry brought tears back to Y/N's eyes. she knew what kind of man his father was and she knew how badly it affected rafe and how he never wanted to follow in his footsteps.

"rafe," Y/N wiped a few tears off of his cheek with her thumb. "i know you're scared. i know you're feeling so many emotions right now and that's okay. i'm fucking terrified." she let out a breathy laugh, making rafe smile. "but, at the end of the day, we have each other and that's what matters. we're bringing a baby into this world together, rafe, and it is scary but all we can do is our best. we'll learn as we go and we'll be there for each other when shit gets real because that's what we've always done and we're not changing that now, okay?"

rafe nodded and Y/N leaned in, kissing him slowly. after a minute, they pulled away from the kiss and let their foreheads rest against each others.

"i love you." Y/N spoke softly, kissing him again.

"i love you too." rafe mumbled into the kiss.

he pulled away quickly as he remembered the bag that sat at his feet.

“what is it?”

“i got you something.” rafe smiled as he placed the small bag in front of Y/N.

her eyebrows furrowed as she reached into the bag, but once she pulled out the first onesie, she felt her heart swell.

“oh, rafe.” Y/N beamed at him as she continued looking at the small clothes rafe had picked out.

“well, i guess it’s actually for the baby and not, like, for you, but…” his cheeks turned pink and he scratched the back of his head, smiling sheepishly.

“they’re perfect.” Y/N placed the onesies back in the bag and set the bag back on the floor. she scooted closer to rafe and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into her. “thank you.”

Y/N kissed rafe, softly at first, but things quickly heated up when she felt his tongue poke at her bottom lip, asking for access to her mouth.

when she allowed him to deepen the kiss, he began pushing her backwards onto the bed.

when she felt his large hands begin to push up the fabric of her t-shirt, she gasped excitedly, knowing she was about to be in for a long night full of makeup sex.

-

over the next several months, rafe became increasingly protective over Y/N and her baby bump that was growing everyday. if they went out, he always had his arm around her. at home, he waited on her hand and foot, hardly allowing her to do a single thing for herself.

Y/N’s best friend insisted on doing a gender reveal party, so that was what they did. with their closest loved ones surrounding them, Y/N and rafe grinned at each other before twisting their confetti poppers and releasing pink confetti in the air around them. Y/N jumped into rafe’s arms and he spun her around, kissing her as he placed her back on the ground.

“rafe!! we’re having a baby girl!!”

“we’re having a baby girl!!” they shared another kiss through the happy tears that were now streaming down both of their faces as their families and friends cheered.

rafe had topper and kelce come over to help him paint the nursery walls pink and build the crib and other furniture. he took Y/N shopping for clothes, decor, and whatever else she felt like the baby needed. he brought in every single package that seemed to never stop appearing on their doorstep.

rafe was proud of himself. he still had his fears and his nerves were still everywhere, but he no longer felt them as much as he did when he first found out. he was finally beginning to chill.

well, at least until Y/N’s water broke.

“rafe! rafe, wake up!” he sat straight up and turned his bedside lamp on before turning to his girlfriend.

“what? what’s wrong?” he scanned her over, but couldn’t tell what was going on.

“my water just broke. she’s coming, rafe.” his eyes widened and he immediately jumped into action.

“what do you need me to do before we go?” rafe was now standing in front of her with his hands on her shoulders and a panicked look in his eyes.

“can you just help me get dressed and into the car? and can you double check our bags to make sure we have everything?” Y/N placed her hands on his and squeezed them.

“yeah, yeah.” rafe nodded before placing a kiss to her forehead and running into their closet and grabbing the outfit she had picked out for herself several days before.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at rafe as he continued to get everything ready. he paced back and forth between their bedroom and quadruple checked all of their bags to make sure they didn’t leave anything behind.

when he was confident that everything was ready, he loaded the bags into the car and ran back inside to help Y/N out and into the passenger seat. he opened the door for her and held her hands and she slid in, making sure she was comfortable before shutting her door and rushing over to the drivers side. usually, they would’ve taken his truck, but, since it sat so high, they decided it would be smarter to drive her smaller car.

as rafe went to put the car in reverse, Y/N stopped him by placing one hand on his and the other on his shoulder. he paused and turned to her, his heart swelling when he saw that, despite the discomfort and pain she was feeling, she had the biggest smile on her face.

“rafe, we’re going to have a baby.”

“we’re going to have a baby.”

he laughed as he kissed her one last time before putting the car in reverse and speeding to the hospital.

-

“okay, Y/N. it’s time to push. are you ready?” the doctor asked and Y/N nodded.

“mr. cameron, are you ready?” Y/N rolled her eyes when rafe popped the hem of his plastic glove and nodded.

“alright, let’s have a baby.”

-

rafe and Y/N waited anxiously for their baby girl to return from the nursery.

after what felt like decades, they heard a knock at the door. rafe jumped up when the door opened and he saw the nurses bringing mia in.

“she did so good in the nursery, momma and daddy.” the nurse spoke with a smile. “are you ready to hold her?”

“yes! yes, please!” Y/N nodded furiously and adjusted herself before the nurse placed mia in her arms.

rafe sat on the bed beside them and Y/N laid her head on his shoulder as they both looked at their beautiful baby girl.

his heart swelled when she opened her eyes and began looking between both of her parents.

“hi baby, i’m your mommy.” Y/N brought the baby closer to her and gave her a small kiss on the head before moving her towards rafe. “this is your daddy.”

he smiled before also pressing a kiss to mia’s head. “hi beautiful. we love you so much already.”

“mia renée cameron, the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world.” rafe’s heart swelled as mia grabbed ahold of his finger.

“do you wanna hold her?” Y/N asked, looking up at him.

“oh, um, i-yeah, i just- i don’t wanna hurt her.” rafe gulped as he looked between Y/N and mia.

Y/N shook her head as she moved to put mia in rafe’s arms. “nonsense. just sit up and do your arms like mine.”

rafe did as he was told and smiled when mia was finally in his arms. he was extremely still and careful, nervous that any sudden movement would ruin everything. Y/N picked up on this and pressed a kiss to his arm.

“relax, baby. you’re doing great.” she smiled at him before turning her attention back to their daughter.

rafe released the breath he’d been holding and admired the sight before him. he never felt more complete than he did at that moment- sitting in the hospital bed with mia in his lap and Y/N at his side. he was nervous and anxious and terrified and everything in between. but, in that moment, he realized he would be okay. the two of you would figure this parenting thing out and mia would be the happiest, healthiest, most spoiled baby in all of north carolina.

everything was finally going to be okay.

[arealphrooblem]

A Lost Cause Part 3

Synopsis: The trusted keeper of all the Heroes' secrets, Civilian's existence is kept a tightly guarded secret itself. So how did the villain find her? And how will she withstand the attempts of his scientist to break her open and discover those secrets himself?

CW: nonconsensual drugging, medical whump, medical experimentation, needles/IV insertion, mentions wounds from torture, torture recovery, captivity

Part One

“So the serum had several unforeseen consequences.”

The doctor delivered this news as he checked her vitals, scribbling on that goddamn clipboard of his. 

“You mean having my body convulse in excruciating pain wasn’t the effect you were looking for?” she croaked, the biting sarcasm weakened by sounding like a 90 year old smoker.

“Don’t be ridiculous. If I wanted you tortured, I would have left you in Vanderbilt’s facilities. This was just a . . .complication. A fascinating one, to be sure.”

“Oh, well that makes it all worth it, then.”

The remark sent her into another coughing fit, throat on fire, and the doctor tsked her. 

 “You should speak as little as possible until your vocal chords heal. You’re due for more pain meds, by the way. Give me a thumbs up if you’re starting to hurt.”

She gave him the middle finger instead. 

“I’ll take that as a yes. Do you also acquiesce to tea with honey?”

Two middle fingers this time and a hateful glare. 

“Excellent. I’ll bring it right out."

He doted on her for the next few days, bringing tea and books on medieval history (including one on torture, which he handed to her with a smirk). Her vitals were checked with almost obsessive regularity, the ache of her muscles numbed with pain meds that he never failed to deliver on time. He never apologized for what happened to her, insisting it was nothing more than an “unfortunate complication”, but he seemed wordlessly contrite with his actions. 

Not that that made everything better. 

It just made things more confusing. Under soft blankets, sipping tea and reading about the Norman Conquest, she couldn’t help but feel lulled into sleepy contentment. 

When her muscles finally stopped twitching, the doctor walked in, rolling a cart with several syringes. The sight of it felt like a fist clenched around her lungs. 

“No!” she yelped, jerking back against the bed. “I’m not doing this again.”

He didn’t even look at her, his attention on rearranging the order of the syringes. “Of course you are; that’s why you’re here.”

He selected one, held it up to the light and tapped it before turning towards her.

“Get that fucking thing away from me,” she growled, scrabbling out of the bed.

 Her hands snatched the first thing she could find for a weapon — his book — and threw it at his head. It smacked him straight in the face, causing him to flinch and drop the syringe. 

She took the opportunity to run, shoving him as hard as she could when she passed him for good measure. The loud thud as he hit the wall echoed behind her as she careened down the hallway. At first victory sang in her blood, but the adrenaline quickly faded in the weakness of days spent lying in bed. Then a spare tremor hit her legs, sending her tumbling to her knees. 

It was all the doctor needed to catch up with her. Springing back to her feet, she had barely made it two more steps before the force of his body hit her from behind, shoving her  face first into the wall. 

“While I understand your reluctance, I really do not have time for it,” he murmured against her cheek, breath slightly ragged. 

She threw her weight against him as hard as she could but he did not budge behind her. For such a nerd, he was solid. His hands threaded themselves into her hair, yanking her head back and a sharp prick hit her neck. 

“Just remember,” he said as her world started to tilt, “when you wake up inevitably furious, that this could have all been avoided with your cooperation.”

The world returned to her slowly. First in images, then in sound. The doctor sat in a chair before her, scribbling in a notebook, the cart of syringes next to him. The sight of it sent her jerking back in instinct, but her body could not move. 

“Finally,” he said once he noticed her aborted movements. “I think I will have to adjust your dosage for next time.”

It took only seconds for her to realize she did not wake up in her bed, but in a padded, high backed chair, the kind with the extra wide arms for blood drawing. And she was strapped down from her forehead to her throat to her arms to her legs and feet. 

Panic dragged sluggishly up her chest, the drugs still weighing her down. But he had locked her body down tight. She couldn’t even twist her head away from the sight of him readying the needle. 

The Agency had prepped her for torture. They educated her on all the ways it could happen, all the effects it would have on her body, the different ways she could hold out. As horrifying as it was to sit through it all, it helped her by making it predictable.

This was not predictable. She had no idea how each drug would make her respond. And even worse -- neither did he. 

And that made this whole ordeal somehow more unbearable than her actual torture. She had never prepared for something like this. 

When his gloved hand swiped the alcohol wipe over her arm, the only thing that kept her from breaking down and begging him to stop was the fact that her tongue still felt thick and clumsy in her mouth. All that came out was a strangled, panicked no as the needle plunged in. 

For an agonizingly long moment they just stared at each other. He slipped his glasses off, tucking them away in the front pocket of his lab coat. The soft warmth of his dark brown eyes made her stomach squirm. It looked wrong, a predator’s disguise. A man like him did not deserve to have eyes like that. 

“Tell me your name,” he said.

She projectile vomited into his face in response. What followed were hours of intense nausea, unable to hold down even the water she used to down anti-nausea pills. Eventually the doctor injected something into her IV and sent her to sleep.

“Stop scratching. You’re going to cause scarring.”

She glared poison at him,  a rash climbing its way around her torso like poison ivy. The itching was unbearable.

“I would take literal torture over this,” she spat. 

“You’re one of the few people on this earth who could make such a claim,” he agreed with that pleasant nonchalance that made her want to throttle him. “Pull your shirt up. I brought you more cortisone cream.”

He made it himself and its smell burned her nose. She refused to touch it at first but the urge to scratch overwhelmed her and he threatened to put it on for her if she didn’t stop. That and the oven mitts and duct tape he had lying on the window sill, an unspoken threat. 

“When you’re done, we should go for a walk. It’s warm enough outside that you won’t need a jacket.”

She froze, staring at him wide eyed. “Outside? You’re taking me outside?”

“The weather is beautiful today. It’s a shame you can only experience it through your window. And the exercise might distract you.”

The cortizone cream was spread with lightning speed. She felt like a kid at Christmas — both hopeful and terrified of disappointment. The doctor graciously provided her with more durable house slippers, the kind with rubber soles, and guided her through the hall and out an innocuous door. 

 Behind the building, which looked like an innocent two story cottage, was a beautiful garden. Bordered by tall, lush hedges and trees, a gravel path wound its way around ordered raised flower beds and stands of rose bushes and irises. Spring sunshine filtered through the trees, dappling the patio and table and chairs. 

She swallowed thickly, suddenly overwhelmed. It was so beautiful and he didn’t deserve to have something like this and yet she was so so relieved to be there. The air smelled fresh and vaguely like salt. In the distance she could hear the low rumble of waves. 

He guided her along the walkway, pointing out the herbs growing in the beds, rambling on about the native plants and the kind of medicine you could make out of them. It felt rather like a scene from a regency novel, taking this “turn about the garden.” But she couldn’t find it in herself to be pissed about it. 

“It’s been several minutes without a caustic remark,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I take it you find this place satisfactory?”

“It’s okay,” she said, struggling for an air of nonchalance. She didn’t trust him not to use this place against her. 

“High praise indeed,” he drawled.

They took two more laps before he deposited her at the patio table. By this point exhaustion threatened at her edges though she tried valiantly to hide it. 

“Let’s not overdo it today,” he said with a knowing look. “Wait here and I’ll get us some tea.”

Sitting in the fresh air and sunshine as she waited, having freedom at the tips of her fingers but not the strength to take it, felt like the worst cruelty he had inflicted upon her so far. And the worst part was, she didn’t know if he even meant it as such.

The doctor reappeared only a few minutes later, humming and holding an honest to god tea tray, complete with china cups and a clear teapot. She made sure to watch him pour and sip his own drink before she helped herself. 

It was good tea. She hated how companionable their silence was becoming, how much she was getting used to his presence. And yet, some things still didn’t piece together.

“What makes me so valuable?” she asked. “Sure there are other ways to get information, other people to experiment on. But you said there was only one me.”

He turned his gaze away from the irises and slowly pulled down his dark glasses. His eyes looked as warm and comforting as the tea he made. 

“You should kiss me,” he said, gentle and inviting. “There’s no need to be afraid. You’ve been wanting to for a while now. You think about it all the time.”

“What?” she spluttered. Her eyes instinctively flickered down to his mouth before she jerked them away. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

He threw his head back and laughed, rich and deep. 

“That’s why,” he said, pushing his glasses back up. “My power is hypnosis. I can make anyone think or feel anything I want. Except for you. I’ve never met anyone whose power can cancel out other powers. I want to bottle it. Literally.”

“Bottle it?” she repeated numbly. “To use on other people?”

To use on her allies. Her friends. To take the one thing they depended on her and use it against them. 

She felt sick. 

“Of course. It could be useful in a wide variety of situations. And I have to admit, I’ve wondered if it would work on you. Can you nullify someone’s nullification powers? The answer would be fascinating either way.”

Dread gripped her insides with icy fingers, the mild spring sun feeling far away. 

“Just think -- if it did work on you, I would be able to break into your mind without hurting you. No torture ever again.”

He shot her what he probably thought was an encouraging smile. 

She threw up again. 

Let me know in a comment if you want to be tagged!

Taglist: @morning-star-whump

[loopscereal]

Pero no lo hicisteee final 100 hrs have been entered

fred by himself cause i did his shoes with everythign and the little meat texture. Why would i do that if its not mesnt to be visible? May god know cause i dont. uhh the background. yeah ok. uh Fred doesn't have to reflect Freddy in clothes or hairstyle anymore! Boys uniform! Higher, tighter pony tail! also their little jacket. Make up around their eyes, and they have gained acess to COLOR. Hes no longer restricted to shades of purple, too bad hes emo and will only branch out to red TOT. anyway yay for them. uhh uhhh also he has a new sparkle. he has a little yellowy orange sparkle in his chest, right on their tie. they didnt have that before :) new sparkle

im glad were all miserable about how fred is on the floor but also agree that freddy looks best when hes at his worse! keep up that look, youre a natural !! bbbbuhhhh

SUELTENME SUELTENME SUELTENME SUELTENME SUELTANME ok normal, hi pia :3 glad you noticed. im so diseased about when they swap colors in canon.... wughgh misery...

not so fast! theyre both so fucking bad at this game! the game being existing. Fred feeds the body and like. the most basic of maintenance but they too mistreat it in their own special way <3. ANyways how does this scene change? uh. god. i feel like it adds a lot ofc content but i dont. know. thinking about camp makes my head scream... as i imagine it mutates and changed even after having drawn these. living organism....

in my head their body "prioritizes" freddy a lot, like. IF fred is in control while freddy is sleeping, and freddy wakes up, it sorta auto-kicks fred out if they arent prepared and get caught off guard, BUT freddy isnt exctly. too present. hes not the most anchored person to his own self so if fred, can simply push him out pretty easy so long as they arent abnormally weakened, and if they were to fight for it fred will typically win. As for body auto responses, i think it does eventually kick the current pilot out, or mess things up and force them both in or both out, ("how does that work" sh sh sh dont even worry about it... <3 please.) buuuut i think it takes a long time for the body to get to that point, to the point where it does those auto responseds. Freddys gotten it pretty used to well, itself. it doesn't send out the signals that it should, or at best, not as strongly.

Okay why is Freddy all glitchy when out side and not sparkly? beeecause well. cromatic aberation occurs when a lense fails to align and focus wavelengths of color all on the same point. What the hell does that have to do with freddy? (what the hell happens int hat goddamn highschool?) uh! hes totally unfocused. in his entire self. and in his worldview, his view of strangers, of his friends, family. exc. Hes got like at least three different "lenses" he can view himself in, and at least two "good or bad" lenses he can see any given person through. IF anything is certain about him, its his instability. In idenity, in stances, in views, in beleifs, in emotions, in everything. An so, he gets the aberation efffect, cause he is !!! pulling!! apart! no focus, no stability , no alignment, no trust, no brother, no one to rely on, no money, no goals, no self esteem, no style, no shoes, no affirmation, no bitchessssssss also i have freddy at like 18 opacity (and the cromatic aberation layers are also at 1* so lets charitibly say hes at 50 total) and Fred is at like 80/85/90 on any given drawing of these, because freddy literally has less soul. uh. magic stystem or whatever freddy was emoty enough in the cup that holds his soul that he could fit a shadow, who turned into a whole ass person instead of some litttle creature...... fucked up. empty ass. anywho. enough of that miserable prick. freds got glow and sparkles cause hes got a lot of soul, hes got a lot in him, and would shine under any circumstance. stand out in some way bc hes just. like that. he is absolutly bursting at the seams with STUFF that is just not being let out. Hes curious. they wanna learn andexplre and live so fucking badly, the want to live and exist on their own terms and its so much passion and drive and will to live all bottled in this little being unable to be expresseddddd. one of these is more positive than the otherrrrr im sure theres sone negative side i missed on fred and a positive side to freddy that i missed but uh. its. 12am as i am writing and scheduling this so.....

if i had a dollar for every time i thought abt fnafhs id have 1 dollar bc i have not fucking stopped.

[stevielicious]

Can you write one where Sam and Colby are like filming at the beach or something and it’s just like Colby can’t help but be like really touch with reader because we look good in our tiny swimsuit but it’s just all fluff but a little bit suggestive like hugs from behind neck kisses and then like in the water Colby like gropes reader or something if not totally fine love ur writing

HOLY FUCK YES, I looove this idea omg, god I THRIVE off of fluffy horny shit. first request and hopefully more to come!

thank you so much, so sweet of you:)🍬x

-

𓆩⟡𓆪 Beach Babes 𓆩⟡𓆪

pairing- colby brock x fem!reader

summary- y/n & kat are taking time to relax at the beach, as the boys make a video, your boyfriend!colby can’t keep his eyes/interest off of you, especially his hands;)

word count- 1k ish? 

a/n- nothing against sams new girlie, I’m soo happy for him, just love katrina & her aura<3

also, kinda hate my writing in this but tysm for 260 notes on my first imagine ‘His Little Stripper<3’, i started writing this imagine when it had 90 so im just very surprised at the attention but so so grateful at the same time🥹

o==[]::::::::::::::::>

Glistening waves sounded softly against the sanded shore, making our surroundings complete bliss. The sun gently beamed down, making the entire beach a gorgeous, shining coast. A light blue colour painted the sky with a hint of orange, gracefully illustrated, hints of purple shining through as the sun slowly started to set. Subtly hinting the time of day, or should I say evening, almost.

The boys, you and Kat, had been here almost all day, gaining a bronzing tan while the guys worked on a video. As we lapped up the rays from the gleaming ball of fire, we faintly heard the pair making their way back to our spot. Peering over, you had slightly pulled the tinted Ray-Ban’s down to the centre of your nose, hoping to get a better look.

“Holy shit.” You mumbled, finding it hard to look at anything but your boyfriend’s incredible physique. He laughed at something Sam had said as they approached us, his body gleaming from the heat. Colby had picked up a tan and man, he looked so good. His pearly white smile giving you slight butterflies, his hair was slightly wet still from when he took a dip earlier, almost curling from the salted sea.

You laid back down, quick to get into ‘position’, as if you never saw them coming.

Kat chuckled, your face heating up as you hadn’t realised you said it loud enough for her to hear. She sat up, awaiting her boyfriend who gave her a loving smile.

As Colby finished up his conversation with Sam, he noticed just how radiant you looked. Lying there on an off-white towel. Your body almost bare, in your little baby blue bikini, so innocently with your boobs almost spilling out, leaving him gawking. Also his favourite colour on you, making your skin glow more than ever. Your bikini bottoms hugging your body so perfectly, cupping your ass in a way that made him want you all to himself. Tiny beads of sweat on your torso making your body shine in a delicate, glowing way. He had thoughts of other people getting a glimpse of your body that belonged to him, only wanting you for himself, making him feel frustrated at his silly, possessive little conscience.

He gulped a little, getting lost in his imagination with the thought of you with next to nothing on. He cleared his throat and proceeded, shaking his head almost to clear his thoughts.

“Hey ladies, caught the sun a bit, huh?” Colby smugly mentioned, looking you up and down, eyes lingering on your chest. He tore his eyes away from you to catch the bottle of water Kat had chucked him from the little freezer we’d brang. He ripped it open and chugged it, as you peered up at him. You only noticed his presence towering over you when the sun was blocked, making the area before you ever so dark in your sunglasses. He poured the bottle over his already sweat-clad body, spraying you slightly.

The cold pricks of water felt good, droplets scattering your body, making you take in a sharp breath after sweltering all day, but the sight of him getting wet infront of you was more than making you feel a little lustful. His hair stuck to the side of his face, almost connecting to his sleek jaw, faint love bites still painted his neck which hadn’t quite left his skin yet from your time together a couple nights ago. The way his chiseled body gleamed in the orange setting with the water reflecting made him look angelic in this moment, his confident aura beamed, making you want him bad. So, so bad.

“Wanna take a dip, sweetheart?” Your breath hitched in your throat, snapping out of your dirty little imagination. Promptly nodding your head, struggling to get the words out, you took his large hand, almost falling into his body. Both of your bodies crashing into one another, softly, making your heart flutter a little. With quick thinking, he’d caught you with his free hand, firmly planted on your waist, he chuckled slightly, teasing you, “Steady there baby, you really wanna fall for me again?”

You steady yourself with your hand pressed against his chest, him feeling tense already from your fall. You laughed softly, giving him a smile. Loving the way his voice was a little husky, possibly from being parched most of the day. You reach up to his ear, standing on your tip-toes, whispering, “I’d fall for you again, and again Cole, and you know it.”

With a brisk peck to the cheek, you began to jog towards the sea, giggling as your boyfriend stood there, taking in your words and your flirty little kiss. It didn’t take long for him to sprint after you, taking in your body. The way the waves crashed against your legs, the water spraying up your body, the colour of the sun set kissing your already tanned features.

You took your scrunchie out of your hair with one swift move, letting it gracefully wave past your shoulders, letting your body relax more. Colby worshipped you in this moment, the colours, the setting and the sound of the waves were completely blissful, but he couldn’t help just how good you looked.

As he approached you, he remembered how he had picked a hibiscus flower that reminded him of you, a little earlier on during the video they were shooting. Sam thought they looked pretty and Colby just knew how much you loved flowers, and because he thought they were pretty too. Its beauty was captivating, as was yours, he thought to himself. When Sam had walked onwards, he thoughtfully picked one, in hopes you would like the subtle gesture.

The boy pulled out the ruby painted flower, ever so carefully from his pocket, just before the water had reached his waist. Your back faced him but you could feel him near. Taking in the sunset, you closed your eyes, feeling the water swishing around you, subtle splashes from afar and near filled your ears blissfully.

Your breath hitched in your throat as Colby pressed himself against your behind. You mutter his name in a happy, sigh kind of way. As you turn your face slightly toward him, as if to lean your head back on his bare chest, he lightly brushes your hair over your ear gently, placing the pretty flower in your hair. A smile grows wide in your face, planting your hand on your chest close to your heart, feeling the sweetness of the gesture.

“Colby!” You say in complete awe, over the simple token. This time you do turn toward him, his blue eyes stare lovingly in to yours. He brushes your hair over your other ear, as if out of habit. The little splash sounded, as his hand broke the surface of the water, just to reach your hand to hold.

“You’re so gorgeous, Y/N.” The adoration radiates off of him, so much that you can’t help but wrap your arms around his neck and give him that kiss you’ve been dying to give him since he set off on that video with Sam. You melted into his lips, his hands making their way to your ass, cupping it firmly making you squeal. You squeal a little more as his lifts you, making you instinctively wrap your legs around him also.

Laughs and giggles escape the both of you as you have a small audience of two watching from afar. They wave as they catch up themselves, sharing a cuddle. Colby goes to wave too as he holds you with one arm, such a charmer. His laugh is music to your ears and vice versa, he’s quick to squeeze what’s his, as he continues to pepper your face in kisses, saying ‘I love you’s’ in between.

As you lap up all the affection, he begins to travel down your face, to your neck. Colby nips and sucks sweetly at the thin skin on your neck, littering you in kisses, and faint bruises. He loves marking you and that in itself is enough to turn you on. You love being his.

With a lot of restraint, you place a hand firmly on his chest. A little breathless, meeting his eyes. His eyes turn a little darker, hungry even. He wants you and you want him, “Save it for later, handsome. We have an audience.”

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

a/n, feel like I could’ve done way better with this, but I love having the thought of requests! I just started this like five months ago and have only just come back to it half done and with all the drama in the fandom I think I was just put off but it doesn’t mean I don’t wanna continue writing! I love a lot of characters and would love to write for anyone <3 (just give me a chance🥹)

[alanshee-keeper-of-realms]

The Taste of Freedom

" Mr Iger It's Time we can no longer keep them, and the public grows restless," his secretary said

The man stood up with a heavy sigh and walked towards a room where the toons were held, each of them in rooms, some under heavy medication to keep them complacent others had lost their fight years ago,

The human crept closer to the cage where the pair he was focused on were being held, Mickey hissing at him as he approached, the mouse had fought the longest but he was the first and as long as they had threatened his partner and friends he had behaved,

"Oh, don't be like that, your beloved public finally won," he snarled, the Mouse's eyes widening. " Your public domain now our copyright ran out,"

The mouse did not dare believe it his heart leaping, he did not dare feel the hope after it had been snatched in the 90s, they were free? The click of the door and they flinched back, he held Minnie close again snarling in warning, the human rolling his eyes

"Go on get, you've been given about 30 million to do whatever the hell it is you creatures want to do, and we will be paying you royalties as is required, your public domain now, can't illegally hold you here anymore. I fucking wish we could but the public has made it very very clear that we are on thin ice."

"Free?" He croaked, his voice sounding cracked from not being used, he had been a puppet for so long, not allowed to speak, he eyed the whips on the wall laced with dip,

"Yup free, get on outta here,"

He didn't make a move to force them out, but Mickey could see that the other was genuine because of the anger burning and the fact that the president hadn't grabbed anything to hit them, there was no joking with this, scooping Minnie up into his arms he darted for the door feeling her clutch him, she'd been weak for so long with the sedatives they forced into her to keep her calm and under control,

The man's eyes followed, but he did not move, Animators looking sympathetic as the pair ran past their offices, and out, he about cried as he saw a Toon he didn't think was still alive

His brother and another Toon, he hadn't seen in a hundred years

"Julius, Ozzie!" He croaked, stumbling not having even moved in months protecting Minnie, the Rabbit and Cat immediately by his side, helping to support them,

"We gotcha Mick, Min. Ortensia's waiting along with the kiddos, she's got a nice warm meal and everything." His brother assured,

Tears began streaming down the Mouse's face, especially as a cool night breeze hit his fur, this was a freedom he hadn't felt since Walt was alive when he would take him home to Lillian, he let himself be guided by his brothers to their car, for once feeling safe he allowed himself to slip to sleep,

When they arrived at the house, the mouse carefully stepped out of the car. He looked up at the Moon and Stars, which were so much more prevalent out where his brothers lived,

"I want to see the moon," came a tiny little voice barely above a whisper. The boys looked down at Minnie, whose eyes were finally open,

"Of course my dear," he murmured, shifting her so she could see it, tears pricking at his eyes as she smiled. It wasn't one of those Dazed and Confused forced ones

It was a smile he hadn't seen as well since Walt since they started drugging her to keep her under their control, it was her genuine smile,

"We are free aren't we?"

He held her tightly nodding tears falling and hitting her fur,

"Yes Minnie, we are" he was scared for his friends but he knew eventually they would be free as well and there was nothing they could do to them, eventually they would all be together,

Walking towards the house Ortensia came running out and embraced her brother-in-law, feeling the warmth her, from the open door smelling a fresh cooked meal, instead of the pellets they were usually fed

He walked through finally allowing hope to enter his heart again.

[suzy-queued]

A Gallavich tale, told 100 words at a time.

**This story is now complete!**

-------------------

A man jumped into the back seat of Ian’s car.

“You a driver?” Dark hair, one small piece of luggage.

“Yeah, only if you’re registered on the app.”

“Screw the app. Take me to Nashville.”

Ian choked on his Gatorade. “That’s eight hours from here.”

“So?”

“You gotta plan these things out. Get matched with the right driver.”

“It’s not like I knew that my fucking boyfriend was gonna run off to fucking Yee-Haw Land to elope with my sworn enemy.”

Ian checked the rearview and saw pain behind those angry blue eyes. He switched his app status to OCCUPIED.

---

Ian took the entrance ramp onto I-90. They should arrive in Nashville around … oh, 3:37 AM.

“I have an emergency kit.” Ian nodded with his chin. “Under the seat. A few comforts in case you need ’em.”

The passenger shuffled through the insulated bag. “Boxed juice. Granola bars. Fucking gummy bears, man? This is childhood stuff. You got any Jack Daniels?”

Ian felt a spark of disobedience. “I’ve got a few joints in the glove box.” This was definitely off-book behavior, but it felt right. “They come with a price.”

“What’s that, Jeeves?”

“You’ve gotta tell me your whole story.”

---

The dark-haired passenger scoffed. “You don’t look like you’ve got the stomach to get caught up on my bullshit.”

“Try me.”

“Whatever. Fuckin’ sadist.” He settled into his seat. “You ain’t wearing a wire, right?”

“Not today.”

“All right, so, you ever heard of Berry Buds?”

“Those stuffed animals in the shape of fruit? Don’t people use those to smuggle coke?”

The guy raised an eyebrow. “You too delicate to hear about crime, pumpkin? There’s murder, too. Betrayal. And a pair of pink flamingos.”

“Wait, back up. You forgot the most important part. What’s your name?”

The passenger only smiled.

---

Man, this passenger could talk. Ian heard an hour’s worth of Milkovich family crimes.

Milkovich.

Ian didn’t know the guy’s first name. Only how passionate he was, the excitement in his voice.

“So Iggy launched the box of M-80s into the river, right, and this long-legged yahoo waltzes up.” Milkovich paused. “Wait, did you just yawn? If it’s such a chore to listen, I can fuckin’ stop.”

Ian made eye contact in the rearview mirror. “I was promised murder. A boyfriend.”

Milkovich slunk in his seat. “Keith.” All his passion faded to pain. “Yeah … guess I can talk about him.”

---

“Keith is …” Milkovich seeped with defeat and anger. “He’s the first person who saw me as more than a thug. We met at the liquor store. Been together seventeen months. I thought we were long-term, you know? Then he starts spending time at clubs. Digging into the scene. I don’t give a fuck if he does coke to let off steam. But he keeps getting it from the same guy. Real tall motherfucker. White-blond hair. Wears sweater vests.”

“Northside prick.”

“Oh, you know this guy?”

Ian had seen plenty of club action. He hardened in solidarity. “I know the type.”

---

“Anyways, that’s how I realized my piece-of-shit boyfriend is marrying fancy-pants Logan Covington, the motherfucker who snipes our business and has led the biggest anti-Milkovich smear campaign this side of Michigan.” The passenger let out a sigh. He slowed for the first time in an hour. “Shoulda known by that haircut. He came home looking like a walking Ken doll.”

“So, wait.” Ian sorted through the complicated story threads. “Are you going to kill your boyfriend?”

“No, man, keep up. I want to get him back.” He leaned forward, laying his hand on Ian’s shoulder. “And you’re gonna help me.”

---

Ian scoffed. “Don’t rope me into your drama.”

“Come on, man. We show up at the chapel, tell Keith I’m dating you now, let the jealousy unfold.”

Unbelievable. Ian shouldn’t even consider the offer. He had a ton to do this weekend. But Milkovich was obviously hurting.

Ian scratched his chin. “And I’d be on the clock the whole time?”

“What, you scared to do it? You a homophobe or something?”

“I’m gay.”

Milkovich stared, hard. He looked Ian up and down. “You never mentioned that.” He gave a coy smirk.

Ian felt a shot of electricity. “You never asked.”

---

The Silver Diner in Lafayette, Indiana bustled with activity.

Milkovich talked over the sizzling grill. “Still don’t know why we stopped here.”

“Can’t think on an empty stomach.” Ian flagged the waitress.

Jolene smiled, leaned into the booth. “Order’s coming right up, sugarpot.” She touched Ian’s arm as she left.

Milkovich frowned. “That shit happen to you a lot?”

“What?”

“Chicks waving their boobs in your face.”

“I don’t really notice.” But Milkovich noticed. Interesting.

“It’s good, actually. We can use it in our plan. People find you attractive.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

He rolled his eyes. “Didn’t say me.”

---

Milkovich rolled a coin across the diner table. “You see that? Table's tilted by a degree-and-a-half. Cheap off-balance pedestal leg. I’d have used a trestle instead.”

Huh. This guy’s shoulders relaxed when he talked about normal stuff.

“The key with builds like this…” The guy was smart. Layered. Funny. And his eyes twinkled when he geeked out about construction, apparently.

Ian was finding new ways to be awed each minute.

“…at least shim the motherfucker because…”

Ian interrupted. “I’m in.”

“Huh?”

“Your plan? I guess can pretend to like you.”

Ian’s stomach swooped. Pretend might not be the right word.

---

“Seriously, you’ll do it?” Milkovich raised an eyebrow. “Okay, lay it on me. Tell me everything about you.”

Ian enjoyed sharing his details. “I’m one of six kids. Two sisters, three brothers. Wait, you’re not writing this down? You’re gonna memorize all this shit?”

The guy leaned forward, intense, piercing. He traced his finger around Ian’s wrist. “We’re chained now. I’ll remember everything about you.”

This was absurd, but the guy seemed dead serious.

Ian felt goosebumps. He took charge and matched the guy’s intensity. “Then tell me your first name.”

A quick tongue flick. The guy nodded. “It’s Mickey.”

---

Turns out, scheming and joking with Mickey was easier than breathing. Ian drummed on the table. “Okay, how’d we meet? I gave you a ride somewhere?”

“And then I rode you.” Mickey laughed. “Simple enough. How about second date?”

Ian’s inner romantic spun into action. “A rooftop picnic. You brought snacks and whiskey.”

“Hm. Doesn’t sound like me.”

“I brought a tire iron and gun because I didn’t trust you.”

Mickey smirked, like these lies were becoming reality in his head. “Wise man.”

Ian swelled. His weekend suddenly had purpose. He’d be the best fake boyfriend in the goddamn world.

---

They hit the john before they got back on the road. Pissed in outdated urinals, washed their hands.

Ian watched Mickey closely. Every turn, every strut, every smirk. That’s how he noticed that Mickey flinched when the hand dryer shot to life.

“Mickey Milkovich.” Ian laughed. “You can dump a mob boss in the Chicago River but you’re afraid of a little hot air?”

“It’s fucking startling.”

Mickey paused in the doorway. Tilted his head. Looked up at Ian. “Keith … he never noticed that about me.”

Ian elbowed him, defusing his sadness. “I’m going to learn all your secrets, boyfriend.”

---

Around midnight, the rhythm of repeating street lights on Interstate 65 lulled Ian toward sleep.

“Can I ask you a question?” Mickey looked damn relaxed, too. Seat leaned back. Legs stretched out. Talking in a low voice. “Let’s say I blew this.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Say I end up alone. Do I deserve that?”

Ian could certainly judge. He’d heard about Mickey’s crimes, his family, his dating history.

He wanted to hold Mickey’s hand. He wanted to find the right words to remedy this hurt.

“Mickey, you are the most –”

A bang. A crash. Ian’s face smashed into the airbag.

---

Ian took inventory. He was conscious. Neck pain. Bleeding nose.

He scrambled to unfasten his seatbelt. To wave away the airbag dust.

He pawed at Mickey’s leg, arm, chest. “Are you okay?”

“I’m scraped up.” Mickey coughed. “What happened?”

“Someone clipped our bumper. We spun out. Hit the guardrail. I was out of control.”

“Why are you pulling on my eye?”

Ian lowered his hand. “Checking for a concussion.” He tried to steady his breath, calm his panic. “I’m sorry. I let you down.”

Mickey set his injured hand on Ian’s, offering shaky reassurance. “Better than being worm food, man.”

---

The cops had come and gone. Reality settled in. Ian’s car was undriveable. They were stranded.

Mickey’s anxiety spiked. “How the hell am I getting to the wedding now?” He paced along the shoulder, pointing at Ian. “Who drives for a fucking living and doesn’t have roadside assistance?”

Ian spoke via speakerphone to a random tow company they’d Googled. “It’s a silver Camry. Near exit 130.”

Mickey yelled into the phone. “Just look for the goddamn ring of fire lighting up I-65.”

Ian prayed for strength. “Ignore him. There’s no fire.” Unless you counted the flames rising from Mickey’s nostrils.

---

Ian talked to Mickey in the crammed cab of the tow truck. “I told you I’d get you there. I’ll think of something.”

The mechanic pulled into a repair shop. “Car can stay here. Hank opens at 7:00 tomorrow.”

Mickey exploded. “It’s not open 24 hours?”

“This is Indianapolis, not L.A.”

“How are we supposed—"

Ian held up a hand to stop him. He could feel Mickey’s desperation, his impatience and heartbreak. “Is there a hotel nearby?”

The mechanic pointed across the street. To a run-down motel called King Richard’s Royal Inn.

Mickey glared. “Well, long live the fuckin’ king.”

---

Josie at the front desk didn’t even look at her computer. “I’m sorry. It’s race week. We don’t have room for more guests.”

Mickey glared at Ian. “Come on, Gingerbread. You’re taking me to the Motel 6.”

Josie snorted. “You’ll be lucky to find a campground in this town with a vacancy.”

“Guess I’m sleeping in your fucking lobby, then.”

As if Ian didn’t feel bad enough about this situation.

A chime sounded on the computer.

“Hey, now.” Josie smiled. “We’ve just had a cancellation.” She looked between them. “It’s a single. One full-sized bed.”

Mickey didn’t hesitate. “We’ll take it.”

---

“Door’s flimsy enough to kick open.” Ian unlocked the motel room.

Mickey groaned. “No TV. No closet. They better have hot water.”

“Jesus, the bed’s small.” Ian’s neck ached. This was officially hell.

“You gonna be all right, Red? We’ve got to get used to touching each other.”

Ian grabbed him and pulled him close, roughly. “Think we’ll be able to fool Keith?”

And, damn, Mickey’s face was right fucking there, looking tired. Cranky. Kissable. “We should do it bareback in the middle of the chapel just to piss him off.”

Oof.

Ian was not going to survive this night.

---

Mickey cracked the bathroom door as he showered, fogging up the motel room.

Ian sat on the bed, still for the first time tonight. He felt warmth. Pain. Adrenaline let-down.

Mickey’s silhouette moved behind the curtain. A hint. A tease. An invitation.

What if … Ian pulled the curtain back?

He could feel those sturdy shoulders, that smooth skin. Trace his tongue along the water droplets. Grab that thick … hair.

What if Mickey dropped his guy and took Ian on? Then what?

Would Mickey get tired of him?

Desire. Curiosity. Potential. Ian’s thoughts swirled like water.

… then the shower clicked off.

---

“Jesus!” Mickey pulled the curtain back. “Damn water turned to ice.” He jumped from the shower, lunging for a towel.

And of course Ian had been staring and saw everything. Mickey’s dripping body. The toned muscles in his legs. His stomach. A quick flash of his anatomy.

Ian turned away.

“Fucking freezing, man.” Mickey’s wet feet slapped on the floor. “This is on you, Gallagher.”

Ian peeked. The towel did nothing to hide the curve of Mickey’s ass.

God, Ian had to tamp down his infatuation. Maybe cockiness would work instead. “I hear skin-to-skin contact gets you warm the fastest.”

---

Mickey huffed at Ian’s joke. “You tryin’ to see me naked?”

“It’s for science. Research.”

Mickey shrugged and reached for the knot of his towel. The world moved in slow motion now, a tattooed hand tugging white cotton.

The fabric fell away, sliding down his leg. Dark hairs matted against skin. Body with the right balance of definition and softness.

Ian’s heart beat fast. He felt it getting stronger and stronger and stronger.

He glanced up and fell into Mickey’s eyes.

One touch could overcome the silence. One touch could reveal Ian’s crush.

Mickey smiled, all confidence. “Your turn, Loverboy.”

---

In this game of chicken, Mickey was winning.

Ian gulped. It was only fair, right? Mickey needed to see his body for their boyfriend charade to work.

Ian peeled off his jeans. His t-shirt, going slow and begging all his parts to stay chill.

Mickey never broke eye contact.

Ian slid his boxers down, breathless.

“Patriot tattoo. Boobs tattoo.” Mickey nodded. “Carpet matches the drapes. Uh-huh.”

How could Mickey stay so calm when he was tearing Ian’s nerves to pieces?

Mickey stepped within touching distance. “Only one more question, hot shot.”

“What’s that?”

“How good of an actor are you?”

---

Ian held his ground. “I’m a great actor.”

“Could you kiss me right now?” Mickey’s gaze raked down Ian’s body. “Kiss me and not get hard?” Mickey spoke oh-so-slowly. “We’re together, right? So we supposedly kiss all the time. Can you control yourself?”

A song burst through the tension. A silly cartoon voice repeating, You are my cute-cumber. You are my cute-cumber.

Mickey’s eyes widened. “Fuck, my phone.”

He scrambled, but the sound went silent before he got there.

Ian laughed. “Seriously? That’s the cheesiest alert.”

“You don’t understand.” Mickey looked up with pain in his eyes. “That’s Keith’s ringtone.”

---

Keith’s call shifted Mickey's vibe from flirty to flustered.

Ian slid on his boxers and jeans. Being naked suddenly seemed wrong.

“Why the fuck was he calling?” Mickey threw the towel over his lap. “He didn’t leave a voicemail. Is he having second thoughts about the wedding? Should I call back?”

Ian had no clue how to help. “Just take a minute. Breathe.”

“My brain’s turning to mush here, Gallagher. I’m exhausted. I’m confused. We haven’t eaten in hours. And now this? Tell me what the fuck to do.”

Ian didn’t think. He yanked Mickey’s head back and kissed him.

---

The kiss was overwhelming. Tinged with panic. Wonderful. Scary. Exciting. Over too soon.

Mickey touched his own lips. “That’s good. I … needed that.”

“This trip’ll be stressful enough without you freaking out. When the anxiety ratchets up in that head of yours, I’ll take care of you, all right?”

Mickey nodded. Took a second. Smirked. “Knew you couldn’t do it.”

“What?”

“Knew you couldn’t kiss me without getting hard.”

“You’re an asshole.”

But the intensity on Mickey’s face told Ian not to push. The bright blue eyes. The absolute relief at being taken care of.

Ian let the moment simmer.

---

Ian needed to be supportive. A bodyguard. A wingman, offering safety pins and pep talks.

He pulled two joints from his pocket. “You weren’t meant to face this weekend sober.”

“Fuck, man, you always know what I need.”

“Snagged ’em from my glove box after the crash.” Ian lit up and offered one to Mickey. “I know everything seems fuckin’ hopeless, like your life is wrecked. You ain’t wrong.”

“This supposed to make me feel better?”

“The point is, it’s okay to be who you are.”

“What’s that, big guy?”

Ian threaded their fingers together. “A loser, just like me.”

---

The wee hours passed in a purple haze of weed and exhaustion.

They didn’t sleep. They lay beside each other in that tiny bed, clothes on, joking and mumbling.

They bumped elbows, knocked knees, held hands.

Ian ached for more touch. For a kiss that meant more than comfort.

Mickey’s icy blue eyes held him at bay. I can’t face that yet. Please let me hover outside of reality a little longer.

In the orange glow of sunrise, Ian gathered his nerve. He asked the question he’d been pondering all night. “You still want to go to this wedding, Milkovich?”

---

Mickey sat too far away on the motel bed. “Why wouldn’t I go? Keith is my boyfriend. We live together.”

“How’s that gonna work out once the newlyweds get home?”

“I still want to go.”

This wasn’t right, goddammit. In the movies, a kiss leads to a romantic finale, not this stubborn insistence to stay on course.

Ian grasped at one last hope. “To win Keith back?”

Mickey inched closer. He held Ian’s chin. Broke into a smile. “To show him what a big mistake he made.”

This time, the kiss was only about the two of them. Fuckin’ finally.

--- * --- * --- * --- * ---

Hey. Is this thing on?

Gallagher’s been doing an okay job telling this story, but now it’s my turn. And none of that past-tense, passive bullshit. I’ll tell you everything the moment it happens, okay?

You’re gonna witness every mile, every pit stop, every tacky decision my ex makes for this wedding. His abysmal choice in groom. Some godawful silver balloon arch. Those lime-flavored vodka Jell-o squares he loves so much.

Damn, I can’t wait to see the scowl on Keith’s face when Ian and I start playing tonsil hockey on the dance floor.

We’re gonna fuck some shit up.

---

It’s seven AM. I’m camped outside Hank’s Body Shop drinking coffee-colored swill.

Ian’s beside me, giving me bedroom eyes, running his fingers up my arm. He’s tempting as fuck.

Hank unlocks the door and lets us in. “Knew you’d be waitin’.”

I spot Ian’s car, nod toward it. “What’s the damage?”

“Her bones are good, but you’re looking at three grand in parts and labor. I have an opening on October first.”

“October? That’s six weeks from now.”

Hank shrugs. “You can tow her somewhere else. No skin off my teeth.”

Ian eyes darken, and not in a sexy way.  

---

Look, I’ve learned a lot about Gallagher in the past day. If he says he’s gonna do something, he will.

We’re definitely getting to Nashville.

He’s got about eighty tabs up on his phone. “Ubering is ridiculously expensive. A rental car’ll surcharge me because I’m not twenty-five.”

“You’re not?”

“Not until next May.” Ian doesn’t even look up. “Greyhound leaves at 11:30. What time’s the wedding?”

“Six.”

“Guess we’re taking the bus.”

I fucking hate this idea. Ian can tell. He grabs me by the waist. “We can cuddle the whole way there.”

Okay, maybe I fucking love this idea.

---

We leave the car behind. Leave the body shop behind. Check out of the motel, leave it behind.

All I’ve been doing lately is letting things go. Releasing the goddamn trapeze wire and falling without a net.

My ex is the hardest fucking thing to let go.

Ian and I sit in the back seat of a cab, on our way to the bus station. He holds my hand, simply. “This is the first time I’ve seen your shoulders relax.”

He's a six-foot-high, freckly-armed godsend. It's easier to let go when a motherfucker like that is waiting to catch you.

---

The bus trip passes in a blur. I’m lost in a tangle of Gallagher limbs. He touches my forehead, cups my cheek, kisses me every minute on the minute.

After all the shit we’ve gone through, the ride feels too easy. Roadblocks are easy to rally against. But when the path is clear, doubt creeps in.

We pull into Nashville Station at four o’clock. It’s sunny. The air smells like Keith.

He’s probably putting on his tux and double-checking the flowers right now.

I’ve been obsessed. I haven’t taken a moment to breathe.

Fuck.

Am I doing the right thing?

---

I shove down my hesitation, because fuck Keith. If I want to crash his party, I’ll do it with a wrecking ball.

Ian and I step out of an Uber, bleary-eyed. The white chapel sits in a commercial strip, bathed in neon.

There’s two pink birds dressed in tuxedos mounted out front. I rip one from the grass. “Goddamn flamingos, man. That was supposed to be our thing.”

A man greets guests at the chapel steps. “Thank you for coming, thank you ah-very much.” Rhinestones. Bell bottoms. Sunglasses.

I can’t handle this shit. “He’s having fucking Elvis officiate his wedding?!”

---

I’m ready to find out what kinda froufrou shindig my ex is throwing. I’m gonna bust in his skull the second he vows himself to that prick Logan Covington.  

Only … I haven’t moved yet.

Ian sets his hand on my neck. He touches a muscle that calms my whole goddamn body. “Hey, there’s a pizza place around the block. You up for it?”

I blink. “Bustin’ this up isn’t going to help anything, is it?”

He shakes his head.

Fuck. That voice of reason finally takes hold. “Pizza it is, then.”

The moment we turn, I hear a voice. “Mickey?”

---

Keith’s tux is perfect. His hair is perfect. “What’re you doing here? H-how are you?”

“Me? I don’t have a care in the goddamn world.”

He’s got candles in one hand and hideous flowers in the other. He pauses, like there’s no fucking sense hiding what’s going on. “I’m dying to know what you’re thinking.”

Well, fuck, I am, too. Because I didn’t plan this far. This whole trip’s been fueled by spitfire and rage. Now here we stand, face-to-face, and I’m torn between revenge and the strong freckled hands of my Uber driver.

I open my mouth to speak.

---

I can’t find the right words. My mouth works on autopilot. I turn my head and lay the biggest goddamn kiss on Ian. His body tenses, then he melts into it like we’ve been doing this shit for years.

I forget that Keith’s there. Elvis fades away. The chords of the practicing organist fade away.

I pull back slowly, staring at Ian.

“Um, hello?” Keith waves.

“Ian and I are gonna grab some grub. Maybe check out that haunted Nashville tour. Have fun with whatever bullshit you’re doing today.”

I don’t care how petty I sound.

I’m finally fuckin’ free.

---

I hear Keith stammering behind me. I don’t care what he has to say or what a clusterfuck this’ll be after the dust settles and we return home.

Ian and I shuffle down the sidewalk arm-in-arm.

The pizza ain’t Chicago style, but it tastes amazing. The hotel Ian picks for us ain’t fancy, but the sheets are clean.

We kiss against the wall. He peels off my clothes.

25 hours. 475 miles. One motherfucking Elvis. One round of drowsy sex.

I’m comfortable tangled in Ian’s gangly arms.

We do the thing I’ve been dying to do for an eternity … sleep.

---

Ian hands our key to the hotel clerk. “My friend and I enjoyed our stay.”

I nudge Ian as we walk outside. “Why’d you call me that?”

“Because you’re my friend.”

I pinch my eyes. I need more.

Ian slinks against me. “You’re my… lover.” Now he’s getting it. “Wanna bite you. Wanna nibble on you the whole way home.”

Better, but I still need more. “When we get back, will you be my—”

“Yes.” For Ian, it’s as simple as that.

We got no car. No plan. We only have each other.

And that’s all I fuckin’ need.

---*---*---*---*---

ONE YEAR LATER

Ian threw a receipt onto the kitchen table. “Finally paid the last toll. Got all the Camry repairs done.”

Mickey smirked. “We never got to show off our fake dating skills on that trip.”

“There’s one last souvenir I gotta deal with.” Ian got down on one knee, holding a small black box. “You’re in this house – this home – all the time. Might as well make it official.”

“You sayin’ you wanna get hitched?”

“You up for it? No flamingoes, I promise.”

Mickey pulled him into a kiss. “Pretty wise choice, hopping in your car that day.”

[jamiesfootball]

❔

❔Choose a random WIP and talk about it.

So I've got this random wip that's been sitting in my drafts that is basically:

Roy and Jamie stick around after the gala talking to each other and having a surprisingly great time about it

'Give him an inch and he'll act like it's been three weeks' Jamie then shows up the next day assuming him and Roy are like. Best friends

'Takes 5 to 6 months to process things' Roy Kent is like fuck no. You're an awful person.

Jamie: *shocked pikachu face*

Roy: *does not want to feel bad about it* *does not want to feel bad about it* *the prick did it to himself* ........ *FEELS BAD*

Roy: be less of a dick and then we'll talk

Jamie: .......how much less of a dick?

Roy: what?

Jamie: like, 20% less?

Roy: No.

Jamie: 30%?

Roy: At least 90% less of a dick than your current levels of dickishness

Jamie: Can't go that high, I've got an image to protect. 75%

Roy: 80.

Jamie: Deal. FIFA at my place?

Roy: the fuck did I just agree to

What takes place after that is a slapstick level of antics as Jamie attempts (fails) (succeeds while failing?) to be exactly 80% nicer, which to him means that for every 4 '''nice''' things he does, he gets to cash in 1 free coupon to be a dick and Roy can't get mad at him for it. He's turned being nice into a points system.

"At least the good outweighs the bad?" Ted suggests when Roy tells him, which tells Roy that Ted isn't taking this seriously.

And the nice things he does? Somewhere between 'confused but he's got the spirit' and 'I guess that technically counts but I'm not happy with it.'

Nate - Compliments his hair every time he sees him. “Well I’m talking up, yeah? So his perceived value will seem higher than it actually is. Technically this should count as two since he's clearly insecure about it - I mean, why else would he keep dying it all the time. He isn't fooling anyone.”

[Isaac is now convinced Jamie is gay and in love with Nate. Colin is dying inside because when he tries to correct Isaac, Isaac acts like Colin is being homophobic. Jamie has no idea. Nate's self-esteem grows exponentially fast.]

Sam - Steps over him. Gets yelled at by Roy for not checking on his teammate. Points out Sam isn't actually hurt. Roy tells him it's still his job to back Sam up. Jamie backs Sam up by going at the guy who tackled him and gets yellow carded off the field.

This is not what Ted intended, but it's not...not the kind of behavior he wants from Jamie?

The entire team is just confused. Roy doesn't know how this became his problem.

Jamie is... confused for other reasons. Because he only did all this stuff, yeah, because there's this stupid bit inside him that he can't seem to shut up that's always been hurt that Roy Kent seems to hate him. And now Roy seems to (mostly) like (tolerate) him, and it's a little terrifying how fucking starved he is for that now. Not just from Roy either. Somewhere along the lines the other players on the team have warmed up to him too, and Ted looks pleased with him lately, and it all just way to much positive attention and validation for someone who's been starved for it for so long.

To his horror, the whole being nice thing is becoming a reflex. He hardly notices now when he tosses out a compliment that Nate's looking sharp today. He cashes in a point to tell Sam his passing was shit, then follows it up with a 'but you're looking faster out there' so he can start working up to the next point. Sam smiles at him like he never ever said the first part.

Sometimes Jamie catches himself being nicer and realizes he forgot to count it towards his points at all.

The more confused Jamie gets, the more concerned Roy finds himself about this whole weird situation. Frustratingly, he finds he actually likes Jamie. When he's not going out of his way to be a pain in the ass, Roy actually enjoys his company. Plus, now that he's tolerable to be around, Roy can stomach passing to him, and Richmond is starting to play well?

Then Jamie gets sent back to City : )

[sixthsensewulf]

Honestly because I basically rewatch Neverafter and Starstruck all the time at this point. .

I need Zac to play the sassy smart prick that has a heart for his friends.

Like the high intelligence characters that he plays need to happen more often please.

Lapin was a breather. Skip was incredible, both Norman and Skip were amazing. PiB I felt he knew the Rogue class...

Like come on PiB was a sassy, quiet anger, trickster spirit cat. PiB kept sneaking off 90%, got into trouble or found trouble... But still helped pull his friends out of the trouble.

Skip was just a fun "I'm piloting this body because I want to explore the world. And yet I have caused more trouble than I thought. . But my new friends and colleagues can help me solve it." And yet that deep "I need to keep certain cards to my chest" went out of the window fucking quick.

[hkpika07]

The Spencer Post

Hi this is where I explain my observed nuances with Spencer and how I personally characterize him. Explaining why I think he acts the way he does. Please note that like 90 percent of this is headcanon.

Let’s get some backstory on Spencer. His job is to be the personal private engine of the Duke and Duchess of Boxford. This is a very prestigious job, one unsurprising of his class of engine. Being a Gresly and being implied siblings with the real life engine Mallard, he has a lot of expectations and responsibilities put on his buffers. On top of that, let me remind you he is a private engine. Not only does he carry the weight of expected perfection as the other greslys, he has to look good and be the status symbol for the Duke and Duchess. He has. So much to keep on top of, to keep track of and remember. He arguably might have more expectations placed on him than Gordon or Scotsman.

Not only that but Spencer is very….alone. He doesn’t fit in anywhere on account of his position. He’s not really a mainland engine because he’s not always on the mainland. He’s not a Sodor engine because he doesn’t live on Sodor, he lives with the Duke and Duchess presumably at their main house somewhere else. He’s a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit into either picture.

But how does this affect how he acts? Why does he act like such an asshole? Well, the answer is a bit more complex than you might think. As we all know, steam engines are always at a risk of being scrapped. The exception being Sodor because Sodor is a steam sanctuary. But on the mainland it’s a different story. If engines on the mainland are at risk for being scrapped for not being useful enough, what’s to stop them from sabotaging each other in order to get a leg up on them. To make their competition look bad just so they can live another day. On the mainland its every man for himself. And if you want to survive, you take out the weakest.

And Spencer, poor poor Spencer, already burdening the weight of perfection on his shoulders and his status as an outcast fueling his desperate need for validation and need to fit in. Lets the mainland engines’ way of thinking pollute his brain. This idea of needing to take out those below you, less useful and who are a threat, infects his mind and influences his actions. He thinks he needs to get rid of those underneath him so he can continue to survive, to not jeopardize his position as private engine.

And he takes this way of thinking to Sodor. He harasses Edward and says he should be scrapped before losing to him in a race. He hunts down Hiro because he thinks he’s a piece of rusted scrap metal and nothing more. He becomes rotten. Vindictive. Vitriolic.

But…. He gets better. He gets lectured pretty harshly by the Duke and Duchess for his hunt on Hiro. And he spends more time on Sodor. And once again, he’s influenced. Because at heart, Spencer is a people pleaser. And this fact is important.

Because Spencer’s personality and morals seem to fluctuate wildly throughout the show. Sometimes he’s a great guy, if a bit snobbish, and in others he’s quite possibly the biggest asshole ever known. And here’s why I think that is. Spencer pingpongs between Sodor and the mainland. Thus his personality is influenced by whoever he is around. And to be frank, the mainland engines are massive pricks, and would 100% tell Spencer he’s too soft or insane for letting a “useless hunk of scrap iron” live. For not falling into the every man for himself mentality. And so every time he returns to Sodor he’s been conditioned to think that way because he molds into whatever people tell him to be.

And on Sodor he molds into a better person. I think that later on in the series where his personality is more solid and less horribly inconsistent, he genuinely comes into his own with the help of the Sodor engines. Knowing that he always has a place on Sodor and grows out of the mainland mindset for good

He learns. He grows. Yes he fucked up bad but he was heavily misguided and insecure about not only fitting in, but also being perfect. His mind was poisoned but it got clearer. He finally made friends and has a place he can say he belongs to.

I love Spencer, I only want the best for him.