#once again vhs head taking the top spot

[hotpocketcasserole]

Top listened albums of July

[sunflowergirl522]

Steve’s Ex

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Steve’s ex is back in town and shows up at Family Video with a ring on her finger and a kid on her hip.

Word Count: 2412

Eddie Masterlist

“Steve! Steve!” Robin runs into Family Video late for her shift yelling for her best friend.

“Whatever you’re about to say Buckley better have to deal with why I’ve had to cover for you for the past twenty minutes.”

“I bumped into Dustin on my way here and he said your ex is back in town.” She moves behind the counter glancing at Steve out of the corner of her eye waiting for his reaction.

“Which ex?” Robin spins around at his nonchalance, shocked he’s not freaking out yet.

“Which ex?! Steve, the ex, the one you’ve been hung up about since before Nancy! Honestly, why would we warn you about any other ex?” She gets to watch her words dawn on him in real time. Steve’s eyes go wide, his lips part and he fumbles and drops the VHS in his hands before turning to face Robin.

“Y/n’s back in town?” He hasn’t seen you in years, not since you moved away after his freshman year and your sophomore year. And not since you broke his heart by dumping him. He says he’s over you but he and everyone he’s talked to about you know that he’s not really. “When did she come back? Where is she staying? Where did Dustin see her?”

“Woah slow down Romeo. I don’t know the answer to any of those questions.” Robin holds up her hands in defense before Steve can start shaking her for information. “You really haven’t had any sort of communication with her?”

“Not really, I saw her once or twice when she was in town for holidays over the years but it was always in passing and she had a boyfriend each time.”

“Well maybe this time she won’t have one.” Robin offered up with a shrug before grabbing some tapes to restock shelves.

“You ready to go pick a movie for tonight baby?” You speak to your little girl smiling down at her as you unclasp her from her carseat. She beams up at you and nods her brown hair moving around with her head. Every time she beams up at you makes you feel like you’re falling in love with her all over again. “I was thinking of getting Muppets Take Manhattan, you wanna watch The Muppets?”

“Yeah!” You smile and bring her into your arms, shutting the car door and looking over at the Family Video in front of you. 

“And you know what? You were so good today that you get to pick a movie on top of my pick.” 

“Really?” You smile softly at how it actually comes out as ‘weally’. Arwen had issues pronouncing her r’s still which isn’t unusual for children her age and as adorable as it is you’re nervous that maybe she got your speech impediment that you had to work on all throughout elementary school. 

“Really.” You nod, poking her stomach and letting her hold onto your finger when she grabs for it. The bell above you rings as you walk into the store and you head straight to where you know you’ll find your movie. Arwen begins to wiggle on your hip after you grab it and you place her down holding your hand out for her to take so she doesn’t wander away. She starts tugging you away and you let her knowing she’s on her way to the children's section.

Steve froze in his spot when he saw the little girl pulling you across the store. He hadn’t seen you come in and if Robin knew this was going to be his reaction she would’ve told him that you had just walked in. She can’t help but laugh at his expression but still pinches him when she notices you walking towards the counter. The kid is babbling on about something and you continue looking down at her nodding along and chiming in here and there. Steve takes your distraction with the kid to get himself under control.

“Did you find everything alright?” At the sound of his voice your attention goes from your kid to the man you definitely recognized behind the counter.

“Steve? How are you?” You place the two movies on the counter both Muppets and Rainbow Bright and the Star Stealer, Arwen's pick for the night.

“Good, good. What are you doing here?”

“Getting movies for movie night.” You pick up your daughter then and Steve’s attention goes to her.

“Whose this?” He leans on the counter smiling at her.

“This is my daughter Arwen.” Steve chokes on air, he was expecting you to say it was your cousin or something, not your daughter. She looks like she’s around like four and his heart drops to his stomach at that realization.

“Is she, is she mine?” You laugh at him causing Arwen to let out little giggles too. She may not have known what you were laughing about but hearing you laugh normally caused her to. It was one of your favorite sounds in the whole world.

“God no. She’s only three Steve, we broke up, what five years ago?”

“Four years ago.” He tries not to sound dejected at you both laughing at him and not remembering when you broke up. “Is uh, is her dad still around then?” He knew how normal it was for teen dads to just sorta not want anything to do with the kid.

“Oh yeah. He absolutely adores her. Arwen, this is my friend Steve.”

“Hi, I’m Awwen.” Steve smiles at her as she waves at him.

“It’s nice to meet you. A pretty name for a pretty girl.” She giggles at the compliment hiding her face in your shoulder. “How’d you come up with Arwen?”

“Her dad named her, she’s named after a character from Lord of The Rings. Can I rent the movies?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah of course.” Steve gets busy logging the movies out. “So how long are you back for?”

“Hopefully for good. I figured it was time to finally move in with my husband instead of constantly worrying about him from my parents house after the scare he gave us earlier this year.” You put Arwen down again so you can get your wallet out to pay.

“Husband?” Steve’s throat goes tight as he wonders who the lucky bastard who got to marry you is. The bell rings again then and Steve watches over your shoulder as Eddie walks in, his eyes lighting up as he sees the two girls at the counter. 

“Daddy!” Arwen rushes away from you and into Eddie’s arms as he crouches down to catch her. Your attention immediately goes to the man picking up your little girl behind you.

“Hey Princess, you miss me?” Eddie kisses the side of her head as she buries her head in his shoulder and wraps her legs around his waist the best she can. Robin immediately understands what’s going on and she wants to laugh at the confusion written across Steve’s face. “Hey baby.” Eddie stops next to you and plants a kiss on your lips causing Steve’s mouth to drop.

“You married Munson?!”

“Do you two know each other?”

“Do we know each other? Like you don’t know we dated for a year.” Steve scoffs out and rolls his eyes while crossing his arms. He can’t believe Eddie never told him he was with you, he didn’t even know the man was married.

“You dated Harrington?”

“Oh, yeah.” You shrug because it’s not a big deal. “We broke up like a month, maybe, before we started dating.”

“Woah, woah, woah wait. You waited a month before dating someone who lives in the same town as me when you dumped me because and I quote ‘long distance is for chumps’?”

“Eddie was very convincing with his argument for me trying it with him. If you had tried to convince me otherwise then maybe we would’ve stayed together.”

“How did the two of you meet?” Robin chimes in as Steve starts to get into his head and before he can say anything stupid. “Hi, I’m Robin.” She holds out her hand for you to shake.

“Hi! Eddie’s told me a lot about you!” He really has, he absolutely adores Robin to death and he’s told you all about how his friendship with her has grown. 

“Corroded Coffin had a show in her town, something Gareth's cousin set up for us, and she was one of the only people there enjoying the music. I caught her after the show and we went to get dinner at the diner down the street.” Eddie answers her other question before you can spill about how much he gushes about his cool new friend.

“And after that he basically begged me to try the long distance thing and it ended up working. He’d come visit me a lot and he was constantly sending me love letters in the mail. Four months later I got pregnant with my little angel here, freaked out a lot and spent almost all of junior year pregnant. Even though we didn’t mean for it to happen we both fell in love with her after the first ultrasound picture.” You reach over to brush hair away from her face and boop her nose. “Eddie proposed after I graduated and we got married a month after she turned two.”

“Why haven’t you been living here then with Eddie?” Steve’s still being uncharacteristically quiet as Robin continues to ask questions. 

“He insisted it was better for Arwen if I stayed with my parents for a while since he was still in school and didn’t trust that the trailer was safe enough for her. But after what happened in March I told him there wasn’t a choice anymore and we were moving home.” 

“And since it looks like we’re going to win this defamation case, I’m gonna get us our own place with the money we get.” Wayne was quick to find a lawyer and file a defamation case after it was proved Eddie was innocent. He wasn’t happy at all with the town still painting him out to be a devil worshipping murderer and trying to ruin Eddie’s chances at living a normal life. If it wasn’t for Wayne knowing the owner Eddie wouldn’t even have his job at the auto shop in town.

“Wait what are you doing here Eddie? Thought you’d beat me home today.”

“Was on my way home when I saw your car in the parking lot. Had to make sure you weren’t getting one of the Muppet movies again.” He bumps your shoulder with his own teasing. Really he was just super excited to see you and couldn’t wait till you got home. You look away from him then and towards the tapes still on the counter. Arwen begins to giggle and you already know she’s going to rat you out.

“Mama got Muppets.”

“Before you even say anything Eds, it isn't The Muppet Movie again, I’m switching it up. You wanna tell dad what you picked out Winnie?”

“Rainbow Bright!” She throws her hands up and you and Eddie gape at her before looking at each other smiling. 

“Did she just?”

“I’m pretty sure she did.”

“Did you two hear that?” Robin and Steve share a look of confusion at your excited voices while you don’t wait for their answer and grab Arwen's hands stepping closer to her. “Say it again baby.”

“Rainbow Bright.” She’s still smiling at all the excitement she’s getting from her parents even if she doesn’t understand exactly why. Yours and Eddie’s smiles reach your eyes as she pronounces both r’s right for a second time. 

“That’s right baby! Rainbow Bright.” You take her from Eddie’s arms and spin her around causing her to laugh.

“Look at you Princess, getting your r’s right! You keep this up and I’m gonna have to start calling you Pirate.” Eddie’s hand rests on her head after he places a kiss there pulling away beaming at her. “I think this calls for ice cream, what do you think Sweetheart?”

“This definitely calls for ice cream. What do you think honey? You want some chocolate ice cream?”

“Yeah!” She claps and you hike her further up your body before turning your head towards Steve and Robin.

“It was nice seeing you again Steve and it was wonderful to meet you Robin. I guess I’ll see you around.” You wave bye to them and Arwen waves over your shoulder as you walk away. “Do you want to go home first and then we can all go together?”

“Yeah that sounds good.” Eddie stays close to you as you both walk towards the door.

“Oh! We should see if Dustin wants to join us.”

“Hey guys! You forgot to grab the movies.” The two of your attentions go to Robin and Eddie stops you from taking a step in her direction.

“I’ll grab them Sweetheart, you go get Arwen all snug in her carseat.” You nod at him before exiting through the door he holds open for you. “Thanks Robin, we got a little distracted there.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She shrugs before smiling wide at her newest friend. “I can’t believe you never told us you were married or had a kid. She’s so fucking cute!”

“Isn’t she? And it’s not like I kept it a secret, Dustin, Mike, and Lucas even met them both in the beginning of last school year. Honestly if it weren’t for my girls I probably wouldn’t have let Dustin drag my ass out of the upside down.” Eddie watches you through the doors as you coo to your daughter with a love drunk smile. “Alright I gotta go, got two pretty ladies waiting for me to get ice cream. See you Robin, Harrington this was weird don’t try to hit on my wife again. Bye!” Steve gets flustered only proving Eddie right. He hadn’t even heard what you and Steve had been talking about before he showed up but he could tell that Steve was into you with just one look at his face. And Eddie is still blissfully unaware that you’re the ex Steve talks about sometimes.

“Steve your ex is a total fucking milf now!” Robin exclaims once Eddie is out of the door and pulling you into a kiss.

“Shut it Robs. I can’t believe she ended up with Eddie.” He groans out, dropping his head into his arms while Robin laughs.

Eddie Taglist: @sadbitchfangirl​​ @notbeforelong​​​ @munsonswhore86​​​ @navs-bhat​​ @emotionaldreamer​​ ​ @fromasgardandback​​ @rockchickrebel​​ @yourdailymemedelivery​​ @magicalchocolatecheesecake​​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ ​​ @fangirling-4-ever​​  @gaysludge​​ @audhd-dragonaut​​ ​​ ​ @eddiethesexy​ ​ @mazerunnerrose​​ @tvserie-s-world​​ @midnightsgetawaycar​  @alexis6699​ @goldylions​ @venomsvl​ @zbeez-outlet​ @eddie-swhore​ @haileighboi @myownworstenemyyy​ @sharnnnnnn​ @bratckerman​

Everything Taglist: @bejeweledmastermind​ @matchamunson​ @bubsonnobx​ @practicalghost​ 

[differentclasss]

Christmas One Shot ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Neil Lewis x Reader

pairing: Neil Lewis x reader

summary: Neil throws a party at Gumshoe and admits his feelings towards y/n.

warnings: smut 9 (a handjob) and not really proofread writing. Neil is a little cringe in this lol. Probably not in character

a/n: I wrote this so quickly but I just wanted to get something out for the holiday! Also, send me requests! I have some free time so I'll probably start going through those again.

Honestly, you would’ve spent Christmas alone if it wasn’t for your friend Neil deciding to throw a last-minute watch party of It’s a Wonderful Life at Gumshoe Video that day. It was the most in spirit of the season activity you had done that December with the whole idea of Christmas spirit being a little lost on you recently. You didn’t know why you lacked the usual zeal compared to Christmases of years prior but the whole month of December just seemed like any other month. It was true, you were getting older but even so, you normally had at least a little bit of enthusiasm for this time of the season. You pushed these thoughts away, however, telling yourself you would at least have fun at the small gathering at Gumshoe. You would work for free every once in a while too at Gumshoe, when your schedule was free, so you knew everyone there. It would be fun, the same ensemble as usual all planning to go.  Neil was the planner of this whole thing too, which truth be told was the entire reason you were even going. You had a small crush on Neil, he was cute, and it was hard for anyone not to find him cute. He was the type of cute that would make you do something really stupid if you weren’t careful, which is why you admired him from a distance, only ever playfully flirting with him but all around keeping it pretty friendly. 

Christmas day came and you slept in, no reason to get up early with your work being closed that day and the watch party being at six in the evening. Eventually, four rolled around and you spent a bit of extra time getting ready, you told yourself you just wanted to dress up for the holiday but deep down you knew that attention-seeking part of yourself wanted to impress Neil, even in the slightest. Off you went, donning what you considered a festive outfit and grabbing a bottle of wine as a party gift, not wanting to show up empty-handed. When you got to Gumshoe you took note of all of the decorations in the windows. There were twinkling lights and a few cardboard cut-outs with those cheap Santa hats draped over their heads. You thought if anywhere could offer you single-use Christmas spirit, this would be the place. 

After making your rounds of brief catch-ups with some of your fellow regulars, you spot Neil. He’s over by the television, fussing with the VHS player. He curses under his breath as he clicks the on and off button a few times and waits for something to happen. 

“Is it broken?” You ask, appearing over his right shoulder.

 

“I hope not.” He mumbles. “Before you ask, I already unplugged it and plugged it back in and I’ve been pushing the on-off button for five minutes now.”

“It’s old,” You say and crotch down to the player's level. “You try hitting it yet?”

“What?” He asks, looking at you with a bewildered face. 

Without another beat, you lean over and hit the top of it with your clenched fist. Neil looks a bit shocked, maybe a bit afraid that you just broke it completely, but then it turns into a happy grin as the VCR turns on.

“It’s a Christmas miracle.” He says in his charming boyish way. 

“I just earned my wings from that.” You joke back and stand up, then hold the bottle of wine out in front of him. “Oh, here. I wasn’t sure what kind of wine you liked so I kind of eyeballed it but… Yeah. Merry Christmas, Neil.”

“Oh, thank you. Red?” He says with a small grin as he takes it from your hands. “It looks nice… Thank you. Oh! I have a, uh, gift for you too. You’ll like it, come on.” He nods his head to the office and walks in front of you.

 

His office was lightly decorated with a small Christmas tree on the corner of his desk. You watch as he opens a drawer and shifts through it for a minute. He pulls out a crudely wrapped small box, the same shape as a VHS, you can’t help but blush at the gesture. He hands it to you and you take it, looking at his poor gift-wrapping abilities. It’s sweet though, making you feel a little guilty about buying him a meager bottle of wine. He tells you to unwrap it and you do, pulling the wrapping apart revealing a tape of Vivre Sa Vie, you had been looking for it for months now and that pesky blush just got worse from the sentimental gift.

“Neil,” You say and look up at him. “You didn’t have to do this… Thank you so much. I’ve wanted for this ages now.”

“Don’t mention it.” He waves his hand. “I know you’ve been looking for it and you’ve been such a great help here lately.”

“Thanks.” You say again and smile. You want to lean in and kiss him on the cheek but you decide against it. “Well, we should probably go out there and start the movie, yeah?”

He nods and you both take your leave into the main floor of the shop. You sit down on the couch and watch as Neil does a small introductory to the movie like he always does at events like this. After he starts the movie, he opens the bottle of wine pours a glass for himself, and then pours you one. After he hands you the filled glass, he sits next to you and you feel his thigh against yours, making it hard to concentrate on the movie.

Somehow you managed the whole two-hour runtime without dying from some sort of sexually frustrated-related stroke. The wine didn’t help either. You were a little tipsy, Neil having poured too much in your glass, and being near him for so long made it clear to you that you liked Neil a lot more than you originally thought. When the characters Mary and George in It’s a Wonderful Life kiss like they need each other, you find yourself looking at Neil through your peripheral view. Once the credits were rolling, people were starting to get up and either leave or refill their glasses. Neil stood up to say goodbye to some people who were leaving and you could breathe for a moment, not having to feel his thigh against yours. After a moment of contemplation, you decided to leave, it would be the best option with how you were feeling. You knew that he was cute enough to make you do something stupid and with the right amount of wine, you would probably act on it.

“Leaving already?” Neil asked as he saw you put on your coat.

 

“Yeah, it was fun but… I should probably go home and get some sleep.” You said.

“Aw come on, it's not even nine yet…” He said with his best puppy dog eyes. “We were gonna Eyes Wide Shut next. You should stay. What else are you going to do?”

You went back in forth in your head for a moment, but in the end, you knew you were going to stay. How could you deny his pretty blue eyes? He was right, after all, you would go home and probably just watch a movie by yourself. 

“Alright,” You say with a small grin and shrug off your coat. “Just one more movie…”

“Great.” He says and then takes your empty glass. “I’ll get you another.”

You wanted to say no thank you but he was already grabbing the bottle and pouring another, thankfully not overfilling it like last time. Those who were staying, which weren’t many, all retreated to the couch and Neil sat back down next to you after putting the next film in the VCR. You tried to focus all your thoughts on the movie this time but your mind still wandered. You thought of his lips and his hands instead of the movie. 

This film was just as painful as the first, all because of Neil. You swore he moved closer to you while the picture played out. You finished the glass halfway through and decided against another, feeling a little hazy. Amid your hazy and lustful thoughts, you realize more people are leaving and get up to say goodbye. After you say your farewells, you realize it’s just Neil and you in the store. You feel awkward and grab your coat.

“Wait.” He said quickly, making you stop what you were doing. “I hate to ask but… Uh, could you help me clean up the place a bit? I just don’t want to have to deal with it tomorrow morning.”

You agree and set your coat down. After all, this will probably only take an extra half hour. You don’t mind spending more time with Neil either, you’re just worried you’ll ruin the friendship, despite not knowing him that long. You start by picking up any cups and he starts to sweep. You offer to mop but he says he’ll do it tomorrow. It ended up only taking twenty minutes and you both are okay with the results. It’s not spotless, but it will do for now. You stand next to him after you finish and then look up at him.

“I had a great time tonight, Neil.” You tell him. “And thanks for the tape. I don’t have to return this one, right?” You joke.

“Absolutely not.” He shakes his head. “I hope you like it.”

“I will, I’m sure of it.” You say. “Well, goodnight.”

“Wait.” He says and lightly grabs your bicep as you start to walk away. “I don’t know if it's the wine or the whole "sentimental-ness" of this holiday but… You look pretty and I was hoping I could, uh, kiss you.” The way he phrases it makes it sound like a question and you blush at the request. 

“We can chalk it up to the sentimental nature of the holiday and dissect it another day.” You say teasingly and walk up to him. “You’re in luck though, I’ve been thinking about kissing you for a while.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He puts his hands on your waist and kisses your lips at first softly, but then much rougher as it goes on. You both stumble for a moment as you try to find a solid surface to lean on. He lands on the back of the couch, leaning on it as he pulls you closer in your kiss. You try to keep up his kisses but they seem too quick to try to find a tempo. He squirms as he kisses you sloppily. His hips rut against you as one of his hands holds the small of your back and the other settles on the back of your neck. 

“You’re so pretty.” He mumbles between kisses. “Ever since I met you I wanted to kiss you like this.”

You can’t think of anything to say except little moans of praise. Your hand slinks between the two of you and finds his fly which you unzip and sneak your hand into. He grunts as you palm him through his boxers and eventually, pull him out. Your hands send shivers down his spine. He had thought about this for ages, how you would be in such an intimate moment. He never thought you would be so willing and so open to the idea of pleasing him like this. He keeps grunting into your mouth as your hand works up and down his cock, pre-cum spilling from the tip and on your hands. Based on how sloppy his kissing is getting, you don’t think he’ll last long. 

You kiss him harder and apply more pressure to his hand job, making him whine as his breathing gets shallower. His hips start to buck into your hand, wanting to get as much pleasure as he can through you. You think for a moment to bend down and replace your hands with your mouth but you like how he kisses you much more. You don’t notice his grip on you tighten before he bites down on your lip and muffles his moan. You feel something hot on your leg through your tights. His breathing slows and he comes to his senses.

“Shit,” He says and pulls back, looking down at the sheer tights you’re wearing. “I’m sorry. I can buy you new ones! I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine.” You giggle and look down at your now-ruined tights. “They were like, two dollars. Don’t worry about it. Just a little gross now.”

“A little?” He asks with an embarrassed laugh. “I’ll make it up to you. How about we go get dinner together this week? I’ll pay, obviously.”

“If you wanted to take me out to dinner, you didn’t have to come on my leg. You could’ve just asked.” You tease and then lean in to peck him on the lips. “I’d like that a lot though. I like you a lot too.”

“I like you too.” He says, blushing at the elementary confession. “Let me get you a towel. I’m sorry.” He adds and retracts from you to go find some way to clean up his mess.

It is probably the weirdest Christmas you’ve had, never before experiencing a love confession or for that much, getting your tights ruined by a guy's cum, but you feel hopeful weirdly. You feel hopeful because of Neil, come this time next year, you’ll be with him you hope. Maybe it’s not the perfect way to start a relationship but it is the start of one. One you’re optimistic about. 

[munson-blurbs]

Hi I was wondering if you could write a small thing about Eddie giving reader his moms old leather jacket when the power goes out in the winter. My mom just gave me hers and thats all I can think about.

I made this really fluffy. Like, it's all fluff. Basically, this is a fluff-only zone.

Warnings: language a lil bit, some suggestiveness

WC: 867

--

The air was thick with the prospect of rain as you pulled up to Eddie's trailer, and the downpour started no sooner than you walked through the door.

"Good thing we decided to stay home tonight, sweetheart," he says, planting a sloppy kiss on your lips. You feign disgust before giving him a wet kiss of your own.

"What movie did you get?" you ask.

He holds up the VHS and your heart leaps. Your beaming smile warms him.

"You're really gonna watch Pretty in Pink with me?" The movie had been checked out from Family Video ever since it hit the shelves, and you hadn't seen it since it was in theaters.

Eddie nods. "Told Harrington to put it aside the second someone returned a copy."

You fling your arms around his neck and hug him. "Have I told you that you're the best boyfriend ever?" You toy with the guitar pick around his neck and look into his eyes.

"Never hurts to hear it again," he laughs as he pulls you in for another kiss.

~

Twenty minutes into the movie, a flash of lightning illuminates the entire trailer. The lights flicker and the place rattles with the following clap of thunder.

You're snuggled up into Eddie's chest, the two of your curled up in a blanket. His arm is draped lazily over your shoulder as he chews on a peanut M&M. Your own fingers toy with the frayed hems of his ripped jeans. You're both so cozy that you barely notice the raging storm until the power goes out, leaving you in total darkness.

"Shit," Eddie mutters, but doesn't move from his spot. "This sucks."

You giggle. "Oh, yeah. Poor Eddie Munson, stuck inside with his girlfriend, and can't think of anything to do."

You don't have to see his face to know that he's wearing a cocky grin as he throws the blanket to the floor and climbs on top of you, peppering kisses all over your face.

"Eddie," you say, laughing as you gently push him off. "C'mon, Wayne will be home soon. Let's just find some flashlights."

You feel the icy chill of the cold January night once Eddie's body heat is off of you. Your teeth chatter as you carefully rummage through the kitchen drawers for a source of light.

"Babe, are you cold?" Eddie calls from his room. You hear the click of a flashlight turn on, and the small hallway is quickly illuminated.

"Um, kinda," you admit shyly. "It's okay, though. I can just wrap myself in the blanket."

"Absolutely not," he replies firmly. "Give me a sec. Been meaning to give this to you, anyway." He disappears back in his room and reemerges holding a worn leather jacket. You can tell by the cut and style that it's meant for a woman.

Eddie helps you into it, fixing the collar and smoothing it down. He takes a step back, keeping the light trained on your body. "Wow," he says, and you see tears brimming at his eyes, "you look beautiful."

You're flattered, albeit confused by his intense reaction. "Eds, are you okay?" You hold his hand gently, stepping into him.

"Y-yeah," he clears his throat and looks into your eyes. "'S just...this was my mom's jacket."

You take a sharp breath in, your heart plunging. Eddie had talked about his mom a few times in the six months you'd been together, and you know he'd adored her. You regretted not knowing her when she was alive and gladly listened to Eddie's stories about her. Still, this was big.

"Wow," you echo him, at a loss for words. "Thank you for letting me wear it," you finally manage, hugging him tightly. The smell of his cologne wafts through the air.

"Sweetheart," he gently tilts your head, "I don't just want you to wear it...want you to keep it." He breaks the eye contact sheepishly, letting his gaze fall to the floor.

"A-are you sure?" you ask, then quickly clarify, "I mean, I love it and I'm so honored, but I'd never want to take something of hers unless you're really sure."

His response to that is a kiss so passionate and deep that you nearly fall over, legs turning to jelly as he holds your face in the hand without the flashlight.

"Does that answer your question?" he teases, running his thumb over your lower lip.

"Hmm, I don't know," you goad back, pressing your chest against his. "Might need a confirmation."

You think he's going to kiss you again, and he surprises you when he talks. "I've, uh..." he starts, combing his fingers through his curls, "I've been waiting to give that to the girl I love."

It feels like all of the oxygen leaves your body. You haven't yet told each other I love you; well, not until just now. You certainly felt it, though you've been too scared to say anything.

"You love me?" you ask, feeling a smile spread across your face.

"More than anything, sweetheart," he answers, and you know he means it. "You're the one for me."

"I love you, too," you breathe, and you're still smiling as you kiss him again.

--

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Play Pretend

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: ~4170

Warnings: I don’t think there are any? Some language. Egregious amounts of fluff. A blanket fort and a Star Trek onesie. Gratuitous descriptions of Spencer Reid’s bone structure, because apparently I can’t help myself. 

A/N: For the “treat yo’ self” square on my @cmbingo​ card, and also for @railmereid​‘s 2k challenge! Prompt for the latter is bolded.

It’s been a godawful case, and in the BAU, that’s saying something. At least nobody ended up in the hospital this time? But as you all troop onto the jet in a straggly line of wrinkled clothes and puffy eyes, that’s about the brightest spot you can find in this whole fucking week. 

As you get settled, though, Hotch clears his throat. “Your attention, please. We’re taking a long weekend, Strauss’s orders.”

“Oh thank god,” you mutter under your breath.  

“Once we get back and grab our things, you are not to return to the office for a full seventy-two hours.” Hotch looks sternly (well, even more sternly) at Spencer, who’s on the couch next to you, curling up for a nap. “Understood? And you are not allowed to take case files home, Reid. I mean it this time.” 

“Understood,” he says grouchily. You can’t help but laugh at the pout on his face. 

“Seriously?” you ask. 

He shrugs, lips quirking up like he does actually realize what a ridiculous human being he is. “I have many talents, but ‘taking it easy’ is not one of them.” He does the air quotes, even.

“All those PhDs and you never got a degree in relaxation?” 

“That’s not—” He realizes you’re teasing and grins. “No. No I did not. I just… never really know what to do with myself, I guess?” 

“Shocking.” 

“What are you going to do, then?” 

“I am going to have a treat yo’ self day,” you declare proudly. 

“A what?” 

“You know, like in Parks and Rec?” He gives you a blank look. “No, you totally don’t know. Of course you don’t. But there’s this one episode where two of the characters have a ‘treat yo’ self’ day, and they go shopping and get, like, really self-indulgent things that they wouldn’t ordinarily buy themselves.”

He frowns. “You’re going shopping all weekend? You’ve never struck me as a particularly materialistic person.”

“Fuck, no. It’s more about indulging in experiences. Self-care. Things that make me feel relaxed. Just… whatever makes me happy.”

“Like what?” He still has this totally puzzled look on his face, with his nose wrinkled up. It’s so much more endearing than it has any right to be. 

“I like painting. I’m not good at it, but I like it, so I’m gonna get some new paints and a big canvas and make a mess, because it makes me happy.” 

“Huh.” 

“What about you, then? What do you do to relax?”  

“That’s… a good question, honestly.” 

“Well, what’s your idea of a perfect day?” 

Maybe it shouldn’t surprise you that self-care is a foreign concept to him. You wait patiently as he overthinks it.

“Perfect seems unrealistic,” he concludes wryly. 

“So, like, remember when you were a kid and you walked into a really awesome toy store?” you prompt. “Just feeling that sort of carefree, giddy kind of happy?” 

“Not really.” He shrugs. 

“What did make you feel like that, though?” you ask. “When you were younger? There had to be something.” 

“I think I just — I didn’t do much normal kid stuff.” He lets out a huff of a laugh and runs his hands through his messy curls, suddenly self-conscious. “Didn’t get to play pretend, or… I don’t know. Didn’t have time.” 

“Right,” you say softly. “Sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” 

You nod, throat suddenly tight. “Yeah. Get some sleep, Spencer. Sweet dreams.” 

He gives you a tired half-smile and tugs his blanket up to his chin, tucking his hands under his cheek, and the dark hollows under his eyes are hidden by his long lashes as he falls asleep almost immediately. You need to rest too, but it takes you a while; you sneak a glance at him every so often, feeling that twist under your breastbone that happens all too often when you’re around Spencer. 

By the time the jet lands, though, you have a plan. 

* * * * *

You second-guess your plan approximately a thousand times on your way over to Spencer’s the next morning. When you get to his door, you almost convince yourself to walk away before you manage to knock; is this totally presumptuous? Is Spencer going to think you’re ridiculous? Is the whole thing just plain stupid? 

Then again, you were stupid enough to fall for Spencer in the first place, so. What’s another stupid decision on top of that whole mess? 

When he opens the door, he’s wearing pajama pants, a t-shirt, and a phenomenally hideous bathrobe, and he’s all messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, and for a moment you’re panicking because oh shit I woke him up. It’s almost noon, to be fair, but he did have some serious sleep to catch up on. Then you notice the coffee mug in his hand, and after a moment of relief, that morphs into more of a oh shit he’s so fucking beautiful type of panic. 

You’re used to that, though. 

Then you realize he’s staring at you, smiling but puzzled, and you haven’t explained yourself. Oops. 

“Um. Trick or treat yourself day?” you blurt out, hoisting your shopping bags and giggling at your own lame joke. “I… brought you something. Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you — I should’ve texted, I just—”

“You’re always a good surprise,” Spencer says shyly, and then seems to shake himself. “Come in. Sorry. Coffee?” 

“Please.” 

You set down your shopping bags and follow him to the kitchen, where he fixes you a mug of your own — exactly how you like it, because of course he remembers. Then he takes a couple deep gulps of his own sugar-sludge and tops it up, and by the time you go back out to the living room, he’s starting to look vaguely awake. 

“What’s all this about?” he finally asks, head cocked to look curiously at the bags. 

“Well,” you start slowly. Now that you have to say it out loud, it sounds even more stupid. “I was thinking a treat yourself day would be a lot more fun with company, and it seems like… maybe you’re overdue for some of that? For… self-indulgence, and just, like, enjoying yourself without worrying. And you deserve it. So. You wanna?” 

His eyes are soft and bright, oddly vulnerable, and a smile spreads slowly across his face, twitchy at the edges like he’s not sure he’s allowed to smile yet. 

“Really? I don’t know what to do, though.” 

“Well, I have some ideas about that. But first, you gotta make a deal with me.” The way he’s beaming makes you feel a whole lot more confident as you tell him, very seriously, “This is the sacred covenant of treat yourself day. You have to solemnly swear to do whatever you want. Anything you can dream up. Indulge every whim. Take an oath to give in to every one of your silly, random, frivolous desires, without any form of self-denial or doubt. Can you do that, Spencer?” 

“I can try,” he says, and his voice cracks. It’s like he can’t shape the words, with the way his smile has taken over his entire face. 

“Okay, good enough. And… I have a few ideas.” 

“Like what?” 

You shrug. “Like… some things I thought maybe you didn’t get to do as a kid? Here, let me—”

You rummage until you find what you were looking for, and then you turn around, holding it out like an offering. Spencer’s mouth drops open. 

“Is that a Captain Kirk costume?” he asks squeakily. 

“It’s a Captain Kirk onesie,” you correct. “And it’s for you.” 

“Holy—” 

He shucks the bathrobe and sets down his coffee hastily, and he’s zipping the onesie up before you can say “Beam me up,” looking down at himself with this joy on his face, totally giddy in a way you’ve never seen him before, and holy hell, even if he hates the rest of your ideas, this will be one hundred fifty percent worth it for the memory of that smile on Spencer’s face. 

“I have one too,” you admit, and pull your Chewbacca onesie out of your backpack. Once you’re both appropriately attired, you tell him, “Next order of business is cartoons.” 

“I don’t actually have TV?” he says apologetically. “I mean, I have a TV, but it’s only for —” 

You grin. “I came prepared, though!” 

Spencer’s the only person you know who still has a VHS player, but you’ve been holding onto some things you rescued from your parents’ attic a while back; you find your VHS of Tom & Jerry cartoons and wave it at him triumphantly. 

“I’ve never watched that before.” He examines the cover, bemused. 

“It’s essential viewing.” 

“Okay,” he says slowly.

While he performs whatever arcane ritual makes his ancient TV work (there’s like a rain dance and an animal sacrifice involved, you’re pretty sure) you settle on the couch, nesting in all the blankets and sipping your coffee contentedly. Spencer presses play and sits down next to you, but you can feel his uncertainty; he’s holding himself stiffly, and he keeps sneaking glances at you. 

“Spit it out,” you tell him, a few minutes in. “If you hate it, you can just say so, Spence. I won’t take it personally.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that! I just — is this really how you want to spend your Saturday?” 

“What do you mean?” You have a Chewbacca onesie, a perfect cup of coffee, and great company; you’re not entirely sure how this could get any better. 

“Doing nothing,” he mumbles. “This is… there are so many things you could be doing. Don’t you have a whole list of things you wanted to do? But instead… I don’t know. You’re here. With me.” 

Sometimes you want to scream until he realizes how awesome he is, but the screaming is probably not the best way to convey that particular message. 

Instead, you keep your voice very quiet as you tell him, “There is absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be right now.” 

It’s a little too true. Your cheeks burn as you turn back to the TV, trying not to dwell on the way you can see him watching you in your peripheral vision. 

“Okay,” he says hoarsely. He settles himself more comfortably into the blanket nest, and before long, he’s giggling along with you. 

You watch in peaceful silence for a little while, but at some point, Spencer’s stomach growls, and you pause the tape to make food — chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream, as per his verdict on “ultimate treat food.” As it turns out, he knows a lot about the science of cooking, but not a whole lot about the actual practice, so he sits cross-legged in a chair and directs you to various cabinets as you measure and mix and whisk. When you get the batter poured out on the griddle, he’s pattering on about the chemical differences between baking soda and baking powder. 

He looks utterly dismayed when the first chocolate chip hits his forehead. Turns out his lack of hand-eye coordination applies to mouth-eye coordination too, and the floor is littered with semi-sweet projectiles before he actually catches one, but he’s laughing, so you really can’t bring yourself to care. 

The pancakes are a total success. When you’re both stuffed and sugar-high, you grab the syrupy plates and bring them to the sink for a quick rinse. 

“You don’t have to,” Spencer protests. You ignore him. His next words are much softer, scratchy and hoarse: “Thank you. I don’t — just — thank you.” 

“Nothing to thank me for,” you say briskly. Then you turn around, and you freeze, because he’s a whole lot closer than you thought he was; he’s right there, close enough that you could reach out and run your fingers through his hair, or trace the sharp line of his jaw. 

He has a tiny streak of whipped cream at the corner of his mouth, right where his lips curl up as he smiles, and for a second you can barely breathe with how much you want to stand up on your tiptoes and see if he tastes as sweet as he looks. 

For a second he looks like he wants you to. He’s frozen too, for a moment, and you can hear his breath catch, but then he scoops you up in a hug, squeezing tight. And yeah, it’s just friendly, but it’s a hug from Spencer, and that happens rarely enough that it feels like a treat of its own, so you go with it, forehead pressed to his shoulder, heart racing.

When he releases you, you tell yourself you’re not disappointed. 

“Right,” you say, bossy to cover how flustered you feel. “Back to business.” 

“I think I need more practice sitting still,” Spencer confesses, following you back out to the couch. “It feels weird just… not doing anything.” 

You pause, deliberating. “Well, we could keep our hands busy?” 

With a quick rummage, you produce paint and an extra large pad of paper, holding them up for Spencer’s inspection. He frowns. 

“I don’t have any paintbrushes.” 

“They’re finger paints,” you say, grinning, and he laughs. 

“Of course they are.” 

You set everything up on the coffee table while Spencer presses play, and the two of you sit down on the floor, side by side. Spencer looks down at his onesie, then at the paint, frowning. 

“It’s all washable, Spencer.” 

“Still,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to take it off, but —” 

He unzips the onesie halfway, peeling the arms off and letting the fabric bunch up around his waist. 

“There we go, putting that genius brain to work,” you tease, but you’re touched that he cares enough about your present to worry about stains. 

It’s hard to ignore how close you’re sitting. You do your best, keeping your eyes on either the TV or your masterpiece of Abstract Expressionism, but Spencer’s knee is pressed to yours, a constant warm pressure, and your hands keep brushing as you both reach for containers of paint, and you can smell him, like vanilla and maybe old books. The whole thing has you feeling flushed. 

Other than that, though, it’s comfortable. It’s always been easy to talk to Spencer, which makes sense considering how much he knows about every subject imaginable, but it surprises you sometimes how easy it is not to talk to him, too. Silence isn’t awkward, with him. Neither of you say anything for the next hour or so. You just giggle at the TV and paint, wordless and companionable, and it’s the happiest you’ve felt in… longer than you care to admit. 

Life is rarely perfect, especially not in your line of work, but this? This is pretty close. 

As the credits start to play, you stretch, and then you look at his paper. It takes you a second to recognize yourself, but the likeness is unmistakable. Spencer’s got the exact angle of your eyebrow when you’re looking at him skeptically — apparently you do that often enough that he’s memorized the expression. He somehow managed to capture your smile, the curve of your lips, all in tiny delicate pinky-strokes of purple and turquoise… trust Dr. Spencer Reid to bring that level of precision to finger-painting, and oh god you are not going to think about his fingers any more. 

“Do you like it?” 

“Yeah,” you manage. You clear your throat. “Yeah, I really do.” 

Then he makes it worse by rubbing the side of his neck, bashful and self-conscious, smearing blue-green paint from his collarbone to the sharp line of his jaw, and he’s so busy smiling at you that he doesn’t seem to notice. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple dips, shifting a streak of color, making it flicker. It’s such a silly thing, but it draws your attention to his skin — makes you want to touch. Worst of all, it reminds you that he’s already art, that the shape of him, the delicate precise way he’s put together, is more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen in a museum. 

It reminds you that you want some things you can never, ever have. 

“You’ve got — um,” you say, gesturing helplessly. He blinks at you, slow like he’s coming out of a trance, and tucks his hair behind his ear, smearing more paint there before he remembers. You giggle, sharp and nervous, and it breaks the tension all at once. Spencer laughs too, rolling his eyes at himself. You get up clumsily to go grab a wet paper towel from the kitchen. 

The moment is gone, but your heart is still racing. 

“What’s next?” Spencer asks softly, once you’re both cleaned up. 

He missed a tiny spot; there’s a blue smudge right at the corner of his jaw, and you want to touch it, feel it under your fingertips, see if the skin is as soft as it looks, right there where the bone stretches it thin. 

“Blanket fort,” you blurt out, before you can do anything embarrassing. 

His eyes light up. 

It really shouldn’t surprise you that Spencer and his engineering PhD make quick work of a pile of sheets and clothespins. You’re pretty sure that he could revolutionize the entire field of blanket fort construction, if left to his own devices, but you keep poking him when he gets lost in his head or starts muttering calculations to himself. The point is having fun. 

The end result is a lot more Frank Lloyd Wright than any of your childhood creations, but Spencer looks absolutely gleeful, so. It’s the spirit of the thing. 

“One more thing,” you say. “Do you have any Christmas lights?” 

Spencer frowns. “I don’t — oh! Wait!” 

He runs to the closet, and he ends up halfway inside the closet, digging around on his hands and knees. You’re about to make a crack about Narnia when he comes out, holding up a box with a triumphant smile. 

You read the label: “Halloween decorations 3 of 4.” 

Because of course Spencer Reid has Halloween lights. He pulls out several long ropes of them; a couple are shaped like tiny skulls, one is strung with Jack-o-Lanterns, and two could pass as Christmas lights if they weren’t orange and purple. You help him detangle the knot of them and drape them over and through your fort, and when you turn out the normal lights and draw his heavy curtains, the whole thing glows in patches of orange and purple and white. 

“After you,” you tell Spencer, and he crawls in without any more prompting. 

There’s more than enough room to sit up, but Spencer is lying down on his back in the nest of blankets and pillows that you’d relocated from the couch. He’s staring up at the “ceiling” in silence, eyes glittering with some unreadable expression where they catch the twinkling shards of light. You make yourself comfortable next to him, looking up and wondering what he’s seeing. 

“I always wondered what the appeal was,” he whispers. “Of blanket forts. And… childhood in general, I guess.” 

“You grew up pretty fast, huh?” you say quietly. 

“Yeah. And I never — I feel like most of the team doesn’t take me seriously sometimes. Like I’m still a kid to them. I always feel like I have to prove myself.” 

Your instinct is to deny it automatically, but you know what he means. They laugh him off for his quirks, for the way he gets excited about things and for the things he gets excited about. That’s what’s so incredible about him, though: that dichotomy of knowledge and curiosity, the breathless excitement when he makes a discovery.

“I liked pretending I had my own little world,” you tell him. “Blanket forts. Felt like I could actually shut all the bad things out.” 

“Still feels like that,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Nothing wrong with acting like a child, sometimes. We need that. Even if it’s just pretend.” 

“I think I get it now.” 

“Hmm?”

He’s silent for a long moment before he says, “In here, everything’s perfect.” 

“Or we can pretend it is.” 

You turn your head to find Spencer looking at you, and he doesn’t look away when your eyes meet. You barely want to blink for fear of breaking whatever spell you’re under. 

There’s something raw and earnest and almost scared shining all over his face, like you’re catching a glimpse of the child he used to be, before the world taught him to put on a brave face and keep his most intense feelings to himself. It makes you feel shaky in ways you were really not prepared for. 

There’s a heavy moment of silence. You’re painfully aware of how loud your breathing sounds. 

It’s a hell of a thing, to have his focus like this. You fell in love with him watching him work; you know how intensely he can devote himself to a task, to a puzzle, to a map… and every so often, when the two of you talk, he focuses all that brilliance on you, and he listens so completely that you feel his attention like a spotlight. 

That’s when he usually looks away, dropping his gaze like it’s something to be embarrassed about, because too many people have told him to stop staring. 

He’s not looking away now. He turns onto his side to completely face you, curling up in that sweetly childish way with his hands between his cheek and the pillow, and you mirror him.

“Feels like we’re alone.” 

He’s right; there are no distractions, no excuses to be made, no interruptions. It’s just the two of you, and it’s terrifying. 

“Feels safe,” you whisper, because that’s true too. Your heart is racing, and it’s like you can hear your pulse in your ears, but it’s the quietest sort of panic you’ve ever felt. “I think that was exactly what I wanted, after the last couple weeks. To get away. To feel safe.” 

There’s an orange light throwing most of his face into shadow, but you can see the corner of his mouth a little too clearly. You’re maybe a foot apart. It would be so easy — 

“We don’t get that often.” His voice is barely more than a breath. 

“Safety?” 

“That too, but —” His breath hitches, and he clears his throat. “What we want. I don’t usually get what I want, but this was — this was very close to perfect.” 

“Yeah, well, when is life ever perfect?” You manage a smile. “What would make it perfect? If you could have anything.”

“It’s not something I can have, though.” 

“So pretend. It’s just us, and there are no rules today. What would it be?”  

He bites his lip. “I don’t think —” 

“For once in your life, Spencer, stop overthinking it,” you half-laugh, and then he’s propping himself up on one elbow, shifting forward, leaning closer, close close close until he’s all you can see, and —

He kisses you. 

It’s the most gentle, feather-light brush of a kiss you’ve ever felt, barely more than a graze of his parted lips over yours. It’s there, and then it’s gone again before you can even begin to process the sensation. 

As your eyes flutter open you can already see the fear setting in, dark intense gaze fixed on you as he inhales sharply. 

You’re still trying to remember how to breathe; you’re too stunned to react beyond blinking at him. 

“I’m sorry. Can we just —” He shakes his head, hand over his mouth like he’s trying to hold onto the kiss. “Do you think we could pretend — can we pretend I didn’t do that? I’m so sorry.” 

“I don’t want to pretend,” you say shakily.  

He stares. 

This doesn’t seem real. It’s such a strange moment that you might as well be trapped in a Dali canvas. There’s fingerpaint on his face, and he’s wearing a Captain Kirk command uniform onesie, and there’s a tiny Jack-o-Lantern glowing over his head. If you’d imagined the “perfect” moment, this would not be it. 

But you reach out, running your fingertips over the dark smudge of paint on his jaw, and the skin is hot and smooth. He shivers at the touch. It’s real. 

“Spencer?” Your throat is tight, but you manage a choked, “I want you to kiss me again.” 

He does, with a careful hand cupped to your cheek and a smile curling his lips when they meet yours. You run your fingers through his hair, and you both laugh when they catch on dried paint. 

“Perfect,” he whispers. 

It really is. 

.

.

.

[waynedunlaptheorgandonor]

watched s11ep1

i will provide you with a quick review before i disappear back into the ether of twd avoidance

lots of spoilers under the cut. also i wrote way too much and i worked all night and haven’t slept so i didn’t bother to reread literally any of it, so it might be completely nonsensical, tho if you don’t expect that from me by this point idk whose blog you’ve been reading

enjoy:

hokay, first off, i’ll start by saying that i enjoyed it more than i expected to. i’ve been avoiding any sort of discussion about stuff, but my google algorithm is so fucked at this point that i still get recommended articles and stuff every now and then, so i was already pretty aware of what i was walking into, and was expecting it to be eh, but actually i prob enjoyed it more than i enjoyed the finale

(don’t get too excited tho, the finale was rly boring lmfao)

anyway

episode starts off with a tense scouting mission

it takes .005 seconds into the episode for caryl to exchange a look of longing, establishing that they are still having weird conflict and are both too fucking stubborn to do anything about it even tho they hate it desperately

i imagine that will continue for a while

rosita, kelly, carol, maggie, what’s her face with the bad hair, and lydia (i think that’s everyone?) lower down to some army bunker or something, where a bunch of walkers are taking a snooze, and the girls are very respectful of walker naptime, and do their best not to wake them up

obviously they eventually wake up, but i’ll get to that in a sec

as they’re tiptoeing through the walker tulips, there’s this split second where carol spots a machine gun, and looks at maggie with a face like, “can i plzzzz, i am mad horny for that machine gun,” but maggie tells her no. (i 110% expected her to defy orders and accidentally wake up all the walkers, but she actually behaved herself for once. well. mostly)

never fear, tho, after the girl gang collects a bunch of MREs they go back to wait for the dudes waiting up top to pull them up, and bc men ruin everything, one of the ropes break, and daryl catches it before it falls, but then a slow motion drop of blood falls on a walker’s face, and just like that, walker naptime is over, and carol uses her bow and arrow for two seconds before she is like “fuck this” and whips out the machine gun

yes, she is super hot using it

yes, daryl watches her do it

anyway, all the other girls get rescued, and carol is about to be pulled up, but bc she is a #girlboss, she first makes a beeline for one more crate full of MREs. daryl covers her while she gets the loot, and when she gets back up top they have another charged moment as carol hands him back his knife

just fuck already, jfc

titles!

cut to alexandria where everything is still not smilestimes

BUT, we do get to see uncle daryl run and hug rj and judith (and dog), and FUCKING HERSHEL JR, LIGHT OF MY LIFE is also there

istg, they could not have casted a better child, i a d o r e him

oh, and some friends of maggie’s show up too, idk

cut to a staff meeting where everyone is like, whomp whomp, we’re all gonna starve to death unless we figure out something quick

cue maggie going, “oh, i know where food is, but it requires me to tell you my tragic backstory, in case anyone didn’t watch my bottle episode”

she tells her dramatic backstory about all her friends getting slaughtered by the reapers for no apparent reason, and then she’s like “anyway, let’s go back there!”

no one thinks it’s a great idea, but a group of people decide to go anyway, including daryl and gabriel. rosita is super pissed that gabriel is going, and carol doesn’t go, probably partly bc it’s a shitty fucking idea, and also bc they have to keep caryl apart bc otherwise they’ll fix their problems ahead of schedule and they won’t be able to drag out the needless angst

daryl looks kind of annoyed that carol doesn’t volunteer to go 

bitch, i thought you wanted her to stop putting herself in the line of fire! make up your damn mind!

moving on

cut to a thunderstorm, where, if you look closely, you’ll notice daryl is wearing the STUPIDEST hat i’ve ever seen. just get an umbrella, jfc

for some reason negan is with them, bc ig he knows his way around washington dc, and no one in six years has bothered to figure out how to get around the city and/or get a map, and he is like “hey guys, maybe we shouldn’t try to walk in this fucking hurricane,” and everyone is like “FUCK YOU NEGAN, YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF US!!!” 

this will be a common occurrence 

but eventually daryl is even like “actually, it’s rly unpleasant out here, and my hat is mad stupid, can we go inside plz?”

so they go inside an old metro station, which is actually a rly cool cinematic choice. i rly like the idea, and they executed it rly well

speaking of executions

there are some fucking RULL CREEPY walkers. idk why they bothered me so badly, but they were what they at first assumed were corpses wrapped up in tarps, but turns out none of them had been properly put down, so they go through killing these rotted bodies that had supposedly been there since The Fall, and it’s very gross and cool

this entire time, btw, negan is like “hey, i know i’m a shitty person, but i have some rational arguments about why we shouldn’t be doing this right now,” and everyone is like, “FUCK YOU NEGAN, YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF US!!!” and he’s just like “god fucking damnit”

(i forgot to mention that at one point, when they’re headed into the metro station, negan is trying to warn ppl of the potential danger, and everyone is ignoring him, and he tries to talk to daryl, and daryl is like “fuck you, you think we’re BUDDIES?” and negan is like “oh, ok, so you’re gonna be like that too? fanfreakingtastic” and it’s very funny)

anyway. a fat monster zombie escapes its tarp at one point, and tries to eat some npc, and negan saves him, again is like “hey, anyone else realize that this is a FUCKING BAD PLAN?”, and everyone is like “we don’t care, you’re still shitty and we’re not listening to you, and you don’t actually care about random npc i would literally not be able to pick out in a lineup bc his face is so generic, you’re not the boss of us!!!”

it’s at this point that negan finally is like, “why am i even here? bc i know how to get around washington dc? do none of you have a map?” and i was like, “right?! that’s what i said!” 

it’s then revealed that maggie only brought negan along to murder him under the guise of “oops, he got hurt in the line of duty, it wasn’t my fault,” and daryl has this look on his face that says, “i seriously need to stop hanging out with lethal women bent on revenge bc it’s gonna give me high blood pressure,” and maggie has a badass moment where she points a gun she has for some reason at negan and is like “i have like, one shred of human compassion left inside of me, and if you keep pushing me i will fucking kill you without a second thought, so shut the hell up”

(in her defense, negan had just dropped glenn’s name to purposely antagonize her, which was rude as hell)

(for the record, i’m completely on maggie’s side here, but negan still is right that trapping themselves in a metro station is a bad call)

anyway, moving away from that briefly

i think this jump cut happens sooner, i don’t actually remember, but whatever who cares, point is, we get to the part of the show that actually matters, and that’s anything involving my love, juanita “princess” sanchez

and also eugene, yumiko, and ezekiel

they are being asked increasingly invasive questions by commonwealth ppl, some of which i wish they actually would of answered (what do they use to wipe their asses with?? surely toilet paper has long since become extinct)

zeke, who is so much more tolerable as a character now that he’s not larping as a king, has this incredibly weird and sort of sexually charged moment with a dude in an orange stormtrooper costume, where he’s like, “i bet you were an asshole cop back before The Fall, you stupid fascist, #fuckthepolice, mb literally? idk, this moment has a lot of pent up aggression that could easily translate to hate sex, it might just be the intense eye contact, but w/e, let’s just move along,” and then he has a coughing fit to remind the audience that he’s currently dying of cancer, and orange stormtrooper is like “lolz, loser, drink some water you dumb piece of shit”

cut to the wholesome foursome sitting at a picnic table in a guarded courtyard eating gruel, and yumkio, who finally has a personality, and princess are like “hey, this place fucking sucks, can we leave?” and zeke is like, “yeah, i met this orange stormtrooper who i think might be dtf and/or murder, so we should probably bounce”

but eugene is like, “but i want some hot stephanie ass, and also some bullshit excuse about how mb commonewealth will save alexandria” which, they left before things went super downhill, right? idr. it was after hilltop fell, but they don’t know alexandria got fucked either, if i recall? w/e, not important

two seconds after he says this, they talk to some people who are like “we’ve been here for four months, or maybe it’s been nine, i don’t actually remember, i’ve stopped processing the passage of time,” and the wholesome foursome takes this as a bad sign, tho that’s just the life i’ve lived as a night worker during a pandemic, so i was like #mood

but then they watch some guy get dragged away screaming to get “reprocessed” and eugene is like “ok, nvm, let’s bounce”

(my theory on what “reprocessing” is, is that they’re stuck in a room and have to watch hours and hours of customer service training videos on vhs from the 90s)

i definitely got my jump cut scenes mixed up bc i think the negan accusing maggie of a murder plot thing happened in between this scene and then the next commonwealth scene, but w/e, i’ll just finish what happens in the commonwealth arch

the wholesome foursome are trying to hatch a plan to escape, except princess, my love, is distracted watching some stormtroopers flirt, and the other three are like “wtf, dude, how can you even tell any of them apart?” and princess then tells them every stormtroopers backstory bc she is brilliant and pays rly close attention to shit, and the other three are like, “this is useful information, thank you for being an insane person”

their plan involves yumiko and eugene dressing up as stormtroopers and leading princess and zeke out of the place, which works fine actually, except on their way out they come across the Depressing Wall of Probably Mostly Dead Missing Loved Ones

they’re about to leave, when princess is like, “wait, yumiko, you’re on here, that’s weird huh?”

sure enough, yumiko  is on the wall, with a note from ig her sister 

the scene ends with yumiko going, “guys...i can’t leave...i have tragic backstory to unveil”

tragic backstory to be continued ig

back in murder metro town, npc and some other npc have stolen all the supplies, there’s a train blocking the track, and a horde of walkers are coming towards them, so things are not going fantastic

they horde is too big to take down, so they start to climb on top of the train car to get away

but dog runs away!

and daryl, being every pet owner ever, is like “gotta go get my dog, guys, try not to get killed while i’m gone, c u soon!” and he ducks under the train and disappears

#priorities

the episode ends with maggie climbing up the train car but getting grabbed by a walker and dangling off the edge, and negan is there and they have a lion king moment where maggie is like, “scar! help me!” and negan is like “long live the king, bitch” and walks away into the shadows, leaving maggie to a potential death

which, while i know isn’t actually going to happen, would be a really fucking funny move on the writers’ part

like, “look, lauren’s back! and now she’s dead, bet you didn’t expect that!”

anyway

my assumption is negan will actually end up helping her up or something, continuing his ambiguous morality bullshit that actually isn’t ambiguous bc he BEAT GLENN TO DEATH WITH A FUCKING BAT WRAPPED IN BARBED WIRE IN FRONT OF HIS PREGNANT WIFE

the maggie/negan arch is kind of dumb, but whatevs, i’ll tolerate it, as long as my boy glenn gets justice in the end

anyway, cue credits!

final assessment: good episode. i’m much more interested in commonwealth than the reapers, tho i am hoping that daryl’s personality-less ex turns out to be a monster killing machine with no conscience, that’ll be fun. princess is a gift from god. hershel jr needs his own tv show. needs more carol (and caryl)

the end! going back into my walking dead free chamber! see you next episode!

-diz

[starfirette]

Ok but Helena Bertinelli x fem!reader where Helena takes all her pent up anger out on reader thru sex and she just tops the FUCK out of R and it’s super hot and R lowkey loves when Helena gets angry when it leads to steamy sex👀 oof I need a MINUUUTE😫

a/n: this is very smutty. it is more emotionally angry, and y/n more takes her anger out on helena, BUT i think it's good. .......i think?? | 18+

masterlist | more helena | inbox | ships + requests open

Every single piece of furniture was toppled over.

The fine china that you’d once had shelved on display littered the floor in ground little pieces.

It was a shocking scene to say the least, especially when you were expecting to walk through the door and take an instant nap.

After being in Moscow for the week, both you and Helena had been looking forward to coming back to the shared Alaska home high up in the mountains.

As you stared around in a state of shock, Helena pulled you by the waist. It was as though she wanted to shield you from the destruction that laid before your eyes.

You weren’t naive. At least, not too naive. You could recognize what was going on.

The last time something similar happened was three years ago. At that time, you and Helena had recently been married. It was the threats and destruction that followed Helena which caused her to leave Gotham with you in tow. Together, you traveled halfway across the across the country, in search for a haven that would protect you from Helena’s enemies.

But they’d found you. Again.

“Get your coat,” Helena instructed as she pushed you towards the foyer. 

“But-”

“Get your coat, now, Y/n,” she snapped again, not bothering to look at you. 

You felt oddly embarrassed by the way your wife had spoken to you. You mustered a submissive nod as you hurried to pull on the coat you’d just taken off.

Helena’s angry, Italian cursing bounced off the walls as she turned through the house, her shoes crunching over glass. She spoke with someone in the phone. Her words were fast and icy. She rarely spoke in Italian, but you’d been with her long enough to learn some of the lingo.  She spoke about a safe house and about a rabbit--

Maybe rabbit wasn’t the right word. 

But you’re positive it’s something about a safehouse. 

You waited in the foyer, shivering in the heavy coat you wore despite the warmth it was generating. 

Helena came rushing to you after her phone conversation ended. “We’re getting back in the car,” she instructed you, using her hands to physically turn you back to face the door. 

“Wait, what’s going on?” you asked, feeling dumb as she snatched a random sweater from the coat closet. 

“We’ve been found, so we’re leaving,” Helena said again, slowing her words as if she was trying to dumb it down for you. She put her arm around your waist, ushering you out of the house and carefully down the snowy pathway that led to your driveway. The fresh powdered snow had two sets of footprints, your own and Helena’s. You didn’t see any others, nothing that would have alerted you to thinking someone had broken in. 

Your face burned with warmth as Helena buckle you into the passenger seat. You don’t like being babied by her. You were tempted to bitch about the way she was treating you, but you knew better. At least, right now. You try to remember she’s in a panic, and she’s running on auto pilot. 

The car raced down the long driveway that wrapped in a spiral down the mini mountain. 

Your heart thumped in your throat as she sped away from the house. You clutched into your seatbelt, letting it dig into your palms. “Slow down,” you finally blurted out.

Helena grunted in response. Her foot reluctantly pumped the break.  

You know she doesn’t like to be told to slow down, or to relax, or to be safe. Even so, Helena knows you don’t like when she drives to fast, or goes into a rage, or puts her safety on the line. 

The drive was silent as she expertly navigated some snowy backroads. You wanted to talk to her, maybe even distract her from whatever was boiling in her brain. She didn’t explain what was happening. You were left to your own devices. You could only assume she was taking you to one of her safe checkpoints in Cordova. That had been ingrained into to your mind; Cordova is safe. If anything happens, go to Cordova and call someone, whether it be Harley or one of Helena’s contacts in Italy.

You slumped down your seat, shifting all of your body to lean against your door, your head against the window. "I love you," you muttered.

Helena didn't say anything.

The underground house in Cordova spans 500 square feet. It's nothing fancy. It's more of a basic studio flat than a house, really, with a very well structured lay out. The kitchen consisted of a two burner stove and an old fashioned ice box. On that same note, the given bedroom was really just a queen size mattress on the floor, shoved in a corner against the north eastern wall. It had a pile of new pillows, still wrapped in their Macy's store liners.

You dropped your coat on the little coffee table in the dead center of the room. It faced an outdated, but thorough, television set, with a boxy TV and VHS player. Stacks of worn VHS tapes and magazines were laced neatly on the little coffee table, alongside the clunky television remote.

A single door was on the western wall, and you assumed it led to the bathroom.

You pried off your shoes as Helena closed the heavy vault door, turning all of the metal spires so the locks clicked, leaving only you and her within the room.

It was a heavy silence for a couple minutes. Helena didn't do anything but stand, staring intensely at the vaulted door, as if it was responsible for destroying your mountain top mansion.

You curled into the bed. The quilts had the consistency of hotel blankets, thin and flimsy, allowing all the cold air to pass through the threads.

The side of the bed sank when Helena sat down, her long legs bent at the knees awkwardly. Her hand placed softly on your back, which was huddled in the corner of the bed, pulled over with the quilts.

"Are you okay?" Helena asked. Her voice was hard. She sounded as if she were in a great deal of pain.

You rolled over. You faced your own wall, turning your back on her. When you did not answer, Helena asked again. "Don't ignore me," she snapped.

You jerked upright.

Helena looked momentarily surprised, as if she'd watched a corpse rise from his grave. You stared at her with wide, angry eyes.

"Don’t even start,” you snapped, holding up a finger to stop whatever words Helena was about to start blabbering out.

"You're not allowed to speak to me any way you want, any time you want," you added with a jab of your finger. You scrambled to leave the bed, tripping over the bedding as you clumsily plunged out of her reach.

"I understand that you're stressed," you said, trying to control the volume at which you spoke. "But you always take it out on me. You always make me feel like the world's going to end."

Helena pinched her nose, bending so her elbows rested on her knees. She looked stressed, just so stressed, just about as stressed as you were feeling, but maybe less angry and shaky. "This is serious, Y/n," she said slowly, as if she didn't think you would have understood her otherwise.

"Even so, we have to keep our wits about us. We have to keep our relationship steady, otherwise we're just going to fall apart and fail. This relationship will not last. It will not last. We are always going to be chased by these troubles, by your enemies. I think I could handle it if we didn't get into massive fucking fights every time it happened. It feels like I'm a kid again, watching my parents go back and forth, staying together 'for us kids', when it's pretty clear that divorce would just be better for all of us."

Helena by now had released her face. She had a blank expression as she stared at you.

"I'm sorry," she finally said.

You couldn't muster much energy, so you shrugged and collapsed on the little sofa. "I don't care anymore," you muttered. "I just want water. I want to sleep."

Helena ran to your side. She knelt at your feet, quite literally on her hands and knees for you. She braced her hands on your thighs. "How can I make it up to you?"

You stared down at her, unsure of what to say.

"I cannot lose you," she said next. "There wouldn't be a reason to have such safehouses like this if I lost you."

"I cannot handle these fights anymore. It's too much."

"What can I do?"

"I just want to sleep," you sighed. "I'd rather just...listen to the television."

Helena led you to the bed, straightening out the mess you'd made when you'd trampled out of it. You shimmied out of your pants, throwing them out so you could sleep comfortably.

"Please just talk to me," Helena begged as she laid behind you. She wrapped her arms around you tenderly, your back pressed against her chest. "I'm just tired, Helena," you sighed as you let your eyes fall shut.

Helena dragged her hand up the stomach of your shirt, her calloused palm tucking close against your belly.

"I'm tired," you whispered.

Her fingers slipped beneath the band of your underwear. Her palm cupped your warmth, her lips pressing soothing kisses behind your ear.

She did not tease that night. She swept two finger tips into the opening of your hot, twitchy cunt, swiping drops of arousal and then spreading it around your clit. The lubricant beneath her fingertips made the sensation slippery and slick. You slowly gasped at the feeling. The sensation got you to slip out of your body for a split second, as if you could see the scene playing out in front of you. Your hips were grinding fast and hard into Helena's hand.

You snatched her wrist and pushed her hand down. "Inside," you snapped. "If you're really sorry, then inside."

"As you wish," Helena murmured. Her three fingers pushed up and in, stretching the velvety walls of your cunt out. You wanted to scream. Her fingers curled and reached up at the spongey spot way inside of you, like the brightest star in all the galaxy.

"Shit!" you cried. You lurched your head back, your hair scrunching up into Helena's face and nose. She didn't seem to care as she slowly pumped in and out, always making sure to press up at your starpoint.

"Never again," you cried as you gripped at Helena's forearm. You used this as an anchor point to keep you grounded while you wiggled your hips into Helena's hand. "You're never again going to treat me this way. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dove, yes," Helena assured you in a soothing voice. "You're such a good bird for me," she sighed, her cool breath tickling your ear. "And you deserve good things. You deserve to cum all over my hand."

Yes, an internal voice shrieked within you. You thought another version of yourself would punch through your chest and take over, take over everything.

Your entire existence rolled up into nothing but pure light as you felt your high coming on quickly. You knew you were cumming, and Helena did too, for she used her other hand to simultaneously stimulate your clit.

The pressure released, like a balloon snapping in your belly.

You were breathing heavily as you sank into Helena's arms. You hadn't realized how tense you'd been until all of your muscles relaxed.

"I'm sorry, Dove," Helena murmured into your ear. She held you tight and close. Her natural perfume, a blend of rosewater and fresh flowers, flooded your senses. With your energy dwindling after such an exertion, you didn't have the strength to argue or complain. You laid there, silently accepting her apology. No longer were you distracted by the wanton desires for orgasm and relief. And in the same way, you were no longer consumed with bitter anger.

"Do you promise we're going to be alright?" you asked, voice cracking and hoarse.

Helena kissed your neck.

"I do."

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 33

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: assault, swearing, trauma, tones of ptsd 

A/N: this chapter is heavy with prominent mentions of assault. if that triggers you, please skip this chapter. 

NEXT CHAPTER

She stood in the middle of the set, surrounded by bright lights as the cast and staff moved around to change the setting of the set design. There was nothing she could really feel and she felt herself almost out of her own body, the lack of sleep weighing not only on her eye bags but on her brain and ability to properly function. She felt she was watching herself out of her own body, watching as she dragged herself from scene to scene, almost changing into a completely different person when the cameras were on. It was mechanical, an ability of someone who’d been acting since she was a child. She slipped in and out of her own consciousness, almost knowing everything with a sharp eye but ignoring it. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t sleep. Any news that appeared regarding HYDRA or criminal organisations were always a trigger to keep her up at night. The silence itself was a trigger. Every blank letter she would get would send her into a spiral, every knock on her door. Wherever she turned, either Bucky or however haunted her seemed to surge. Except this time, Bucky wasn’t around. Sharon was but she couldn’t help to think something was off. 

Two weeks. 

Something was off.

She was no super soldier and she was no agent so all she could do was merely put a smile and say “nothing” whenever they asked her if something was wrong. Not that they asked, she was a good actress after all so to everyone else, even Sharon, she was peachy keen, with the same shy smile she always had on set. After all, this was the place she could be anyone but herself. Anna, the character she was playing, was so far removed from her own personality that whatever she felt seemed to dissipate mid takes. Yet, there was no comfort in becoming someone else, becoming someone who was so one dimensional she’d rather be back in her mind. Wherever she turned, she felt trapped, shackled by the weight of her own thoughts. There was nothing she could do. 

     - CUT! It’s a wrap everyone. - the bright lights dimmed as a ‘pop’-like sound removed her from her own dazed consciousness. She clung onto her own arms, turning around with a quickened heartbeat which slowed down as she realised it was merely a bottle of champagne which was now being half poured into flutes and half poured onto the floor. Yet, all she could hear was a buzzing in her ears.

She stood in the middle of everything, almost like a movie shot. Things moved fast but she knew they moved slowly and she remained there, in the middle of the shot, listening to everything as if she were underwater. Everyone was celebrating, drinking and laughing out loud but she couldn’t hear anything. Just a buzz. That’s all she could hear. The buzz and the sound of the wind bustling her dress. 

     - Y/N? - Sharon moved through the crowd, knowing way too well what was happening. She had seen it before. She carefully put her hand just slightly over her shoulder, not touching her but anyone would sense it. - Can you breathe in and out?

    - Huh? - she was once again pulled out into her body and suddenly everything was just too fast, everything was just too loud as if someone had pressed the forward button on an old VHS tape. Her eyes moved side to side as her own hand pressed against her chest, a forceful reminder to feel her own heart beat. - Yeah, hum, I just need a break.

    - That’s fine. - Sharon nodded her head and started to guide her out the middle of the set; however, a much familiar sound of heels hitting the gravel halted those plans. The she was, always board in hands. - Move. 

    - You’re needed. - Ms. Olson pointed at the actress in front of her with her pen. - The director wants to speak to you. 

    - Yeah, that’s fine. - Y/N pulled a fake smile. There was no use putting a fight, she had already done so and something told her not to stray too far off the cage they had put her in. She knew that with Bucky gone and Sharon under the cover she was one of her old university classmates which had settled down in New York as a stage manager, she had no protection, at least no personal protection. What she had belonged to the agency and if she toed out of line, she’d be left to fend for herself. She could barely look at the mail without shivering, much less fend for herself. She was a short woman, anyone taller than her could easily overpower her and that was the sad truth.

Once again, she found herself out of her body, watching as she walked the gravel with Ms. Olson to the trailer belonging to the director. Y/N was tired, she had no intention of wanting to speak to anyone, all she wanted to do was try to sleep yet here she was knocking on the door of the man she had learned to stray away from. The door was opened by his assistant, a small woman barely in her twenties, couldn’t be much younger than 5 years from Y/N, who had an almost meek look to her, hunched back even. Before Y/N could ask her what was wrong, the director, Mr. Powell, was already yelling out for the assistant to leave and for Y/N to come already.  The girl stepped out and closed the door behind Y/N, leaving the two of them inside his trailer. It was grimy with papers and open bottles everywhere and the stench of smoke was thick in the air. It was almost comical, cartoonish even how it looked as if a cartoon, over exaggerated version of a 70′s movie director. 

   - Sit down. - he pointed to the spot on the brown couch near him. She was hyper aware of everything as she sat down on the couch, yet living a big space between the two of them. - You almost ruined my shot today with those puffy eyes, darling. 

    - I’m sorry, sir. I’ve been having some personal issues, I thought they would’ve de puffed by today. 

    - I’ve heard. - he took a puff of his cigarette which laid in the middle of his calloused fingers, laying against the couch rest as if he were on top of the world, when he was merely as much of an unknown as she was. He was no famous director, he wasn’t even a good one. - I thought you were missing your shadow. Where is he anyway? Lost his mind again? You know, darling, I’m always worried about you. I mean once a killer, always a killer, right?

    - ... You’re pathetic. - it came out of her lips without her even noticing it. She stared at him with a lack of respect few people saw yet as quickly as she said those words, she was pined down against the brown leather of the couch. She could feel the cracked leather against the skin of her neck. His hand gripped her throat, hard, cutting her air flow and keeping her against the couch cushions. 

   - You ungrateful little bitch. - Y/N started kicking her feet, trying to somehow roll over on the floor. - I gave you the best role, put up with you not losing any weight and looking like any average shopping girl and how do you repay me? By being a whore? 

She continued to kick her legs up in down so fast it had already started to tire her muscles. Her hands clawed at his face, leaving scratch marks which were sure to remain red and angry on his cheeks. 

   - I’m gonna give you some advice, darling. You wanna get ahead? Start whoring yourself for someone other than your boyfriend.

His hands left her neck and he returned to sit down where the place where he had been, as if he hadn’t just chocked her against the couch pillows. Y/N got up from the couch and bolted towards the door, pulling it open and climbing down the stairs, noticing the assistant was in front of them. Same meek look, yet Y/N continued to charge away from the set villa until she stopped on the sidewalk, sitting down as she watched the traffic in front of her. The weather was cloudy and dark yet somehow the cars lights made it brighter and it hurt her head. It hurt her head too much. The smell of fog and the bright lights hide her away as she tucked her head in the middle of her knees, chest going up and down yet no tears rolled down her face. 

     - Hey ... - Sharon sat by her side. - Let’s go home, yeah? 

The fog merely thickened and lowered, covering the whole of New York in a somber mood. The wind itself was also fast and freezing and as Bucky stepped inside government headquarters, the mood as just as somber. The lights were yellow yet everything had a weird green-like tinge. Everyone was mechanically induced into their own work yet he was hyper aware of everything. Two weeks. Two weeks to bring in a HYDRA general and a senator which were sure to buy their own bail and go back and all he could say and think was he was tired. James “Bucky” Barnes was tired and worn down. 

He strutted towards the interviewing room where Agent Cox and Doctor Raynor were. It was nothing new to him, it was always the same; he would return from whatever assignment had been given to him and be questioned on it by whatever agent was looking over the case and then had a “therapy” session with Doctor Raynor. It was never to check if he was alright, or at least it barely was. They just wanted to see him, to see the Winter Soldier was still inactivated. He understood that yet that didn’t mean he particularly liked it.

He told the agent all he wanted know, from where he had found the two he had just brought in, to some background info. There wasn’t much to say and when he was done, he was left with Doctor Raynor. He stood against his metal chair, convinced to get this over and done with so he could go back to Brooklyn. Back to her. 

    - How are you, James?

    - I’m good, doc. Can I go now? 

    - James, that’s not how this works. You should know that by now. - she opened her notebook. Great. - Tell me about the mission.

    - It was an extraction, mission. No one got hurt. - lies. He had gotten hurt, he had taken a pretty harsh blow to his cheekbone which was developing into a nasty purple bruise, yet, that was not who they were questioning him about. If he had gotten hurt, it didn’t matter. - No nightmares either. 

    - Are you lying to me, James?

    - No, I just want to get out of here. I haven’t seen my girlfriend in two weeks. 

    - Tell me about your girlfriend. - she closed the notebook, almost as if this was off book yet he knew that nothing was off book. Not for him. Everyone has the right to privacy but the Winter Soldier. - What’s her name? 

    - Y/N. 

    - How old is she? 

    - Younger than me. 

    - No need to be hostile, James.

    - No need to ask me about my love life, doc. 

    - Any big fights? Any ... problems regarding your condition? Healthy sex life?

    - Are you asking me if I abuse my girlfriend? - his blood boiled yet he tried to keep cool. He knew an anger outbreak would only keep him in this session for longer than he wanted. Despite this, he chose to get up and leave the room. 

He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear those accusations, he didn’t even want to think about it. Bucky did not like the idea of the Winter Soldier and Y/N together. He didn’t want to merge those two worlds together. The Winter Soldier was someone, a part of him which he didn’t fully understand and he didn’t want Y/N together with it. No, Bucky wanted Y/N to only see whatever bit of kindness, whatever few bits of goodness lied within him. He didn’t want her to the Winter Soldier’s girlfriend. He knew he didn’t deserve her and that title only further reminded him. 

He continued to be lost in his head, those questions running through his mind as he unlocked the door only to be met with Sharon pointing her gun at him. She lowered her gun once she realised who it was that stood in the entrance, putting the gun back in between her jeans and her shirt. 

   - Two weeks? That was long. 

   - Not my fault, Sharon. - Bucky dropped his duffel bag to the floor. - How is she?

   - Not good. - Sharon crossed her arms. - You have to tell her things, James. C’mon, you can do that with me and Steve and maybe even Sam. We know them, we’ve been in missions before but she doesn’t. 

   - Spare me this.

   - She barely slept while you gone, James. God, are you so afraid she’ll stop loving you if you tell her about the Winter Soldier that you’d rather her live in constant anxiety every time you have to leave?

    - I won’t have to leave. 

Sharon scoffed, grabbing her jacket from the coat hanger.

    - Do you seriously believe that, James? 

    - Since when do you care about Y/N?

    - Stop being your worse enemy, James. She deserves to know.

God, she sure was awful now, Bucky thought to himself as Sharon left probably to return to Steve. The flat was intact, things were just as he had left them and everything was quiet except for the TV in the living room. Their bedroom door was slightly opened, probably so Sharon could keep an eye on Y/N. He took his shoes off so his steps wouldn’t alarm her and walked into the bedroom. She was there, in the bed, laying on her side, sleeping peacefully. Bucky walked up to her side of the bed, leaning down to kiss her forehead. 

She stirred in her sleep, eyes slowly opening as Bucky began to shush her, trying to make sure she went back to sleep. Last thing he had wanted was to awake her up.

    - Bucky? - she held herself onto one arm, the other hand coming to rub the sleep off her eyes. Once the blurriness dissipated and she confirmed it was indeed her Bucky, she wrapped her arms around him tightly, almost knocking him into the bed.

Bucky melted in her touch, burying his nose in her hair, sensing the scent of vanilla from her shampoo and the warmth of her skin. This was home, not Brooklyn but her. She was home, she felt like home. She pulled away from the hug for a bit to examine him, her fingers brushing the bruise on his cheekbone.

    - What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?

    - I’m fine. It’s just the bruise, Y/N. 

    - I’ll get some ice. - she prepared to get out of bed but he pushed her back on it. She felt onto his chest and he held her against him with one arm. What he did not expect was to see how uncomfortable she became at the inability to move. He was used to playing around with her, rolling around or having her on top of his chest. 

   - What’s wrong, princess?

   - Nothing ... - she shook her head. - I just missed you. I was afraid you were hurt or you were dead. 

   - I’m not hurt, I’m here. 

   - You’re staying, right? - she questioned, rolling to his side of the bed, laying on his side. - You’re not here just to visit.

   - Yeah, I’m staying, princess. - he caressed her cheek, leaning his forehead against hers. Sharon’s words, however, kept pulling at him. She loved him, he knew she loved him. Right? 

   - You’re making the face.

   - What face?

   - Your thinking face. - she cuddled against him, fingers softly pulling his chin down so he was looking at her. - What are you thinking about?

   - You love me, right? - he probably sounded insecure, he could hear himself sounding insecure, his voice cracking. She cocked her head to the side before raising her fingers to trace his jaw. 

   - Of course I do. You think I’d be marrying you if I didn’t love you?

   - I wanted to hurt them. - he blurted. - I wanted to torture them. Both of them.

   - Who?

   - Every time they send me to any of these assignments. Make amends ... I wanna hurt those people, I wanna hurt them like they hurt me and I hate it.

   - Buck ...

   - I’m ... I wanna be a good person, Y/N. I wanna be good. - he shut his eyes tightly. - And I’m not. 

   - It does not make you a bad person to want to hurt you hurt you, to want revenge. You do not act on it and that’s the difference. You’re not a bad person, Bucky. 

   - You’re the only person who thinks that. 

   - Doesn’t matter. - she smiled at him, softly kissing him. - I’m not expecting you just to move on and let it go. It’s part of your life and it’s part of you and I love you. All bad and all good, I love you. 

   - Maybe you need a better judgement. 

   - I have the best judgment between the both of us. I have no thrown myself off a plane without a parachute. 

   - That can’t be your way of winning arguments. 

   - It is my way of winning arguments. - she giggled at him. - Let’s just go to sleep. 

The night seemed short, way too short but it did not matter because both of them were there. It was calm, too calm until a harsh knock had both of them wake up from her slumber, the morning barely bright yet there was already some light. Y/N clung onto his arm as another harsh knock was delivered against his door. Bucky moved slowly to take his gun from under the bed before he walked out the bedroom, putting his gun behind his back as he opened the door. The police stood in front of him, quite a few of them. Way too many.

   - James Buchanan Barnes, you are under arrest for the alleged harassment and stalking of Miss Y/N Y/L/N.

taglist: @disasterbi​ @lookiamtrying​ @buckysteveloki-me​ @americasass81​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @lostinthebeans​ @mariahthelioness29​ @oh-nohoney​ @peaches-roses-sins​ @theadorasabditory​ @sipsteacasually​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @booktease21​ @noiralei​ @learisa​ @everythingisoverratedbutgreat​ @uglipotata72829​ @naturalthrone22​ @husherstan​ @mandiiblanche​ @vicmc624​ @newyorkgoddess​ @itsallyscorner​ @chipilerendi​ @emzd34 @writerwrites​ @bluevxnus​ @that-girl-named-alex​ @captnrogers​ @nsfwsebbie​ @sarge-barnes-sir​ @niki-is-a-thing​ @cynic-spirit​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​

[gladdygirl18]

An Emerald Surprise

Summary: While watching a movie at Jotaro’s, Kakyoin decides to annoy his friend. Jotaro saw this as a challenge and ran with it. He just wasn’t expecting Kakyoin to giggle when he poked his side.

Word Count: 2132

⚠️Warning⚠️: Mild swearing (from you know who)

Let’s get one thing straight. Jotaro Kujo is by far the most serious young man you will ever meet. His calm demeanor towards tough situations is honorable and acknowledgeable. To his enemies, it’s scary as hell. They could never tell what he’s thinking. No one can, for that matter. The only one who really knows him is his ever-so-sweet, happy-go-lucky mother, Holly. Holly is the only one who can see past her son’s cold attitude.

It was a warm, summer afternoon in Japan, and school was out for everyone. Kakyoin had come over to Jotaro’s house to hang out. Luckily for them, they didn’t have any work to do over the summer. Holly and Kakyoin’s mother were close friends, so they didn’t mind their sons visiting one another every now and then.

“What movie do you wanna see?” Jotaro asked.

“Any movie is fine, JoJo.” Kakyoin said from the couch.

Jotaro hummed as he scanned through the movies. He soon picked up a VHS tape that read “Never Cry Wolf,” his favorite film. Sliding the film in the player, he walked back to the couch and plopped down next to Kakyoin. The black-haired teen picked up the remote and started the movie. Even though Jotaro had seen this movie a thousand times, he still enjoyed watching it. Kakyoin eventually found enjoyment in the film once he got a grasp of the plot.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Jotaro asked suddenly.

“Some water would be nice, thank you.” Kakyoin said with a genuine grin.

Standing up, the black-haired teen patted his friend’s shoulder before heading into the kitchen. Kakyoin slumped into the couch as he let out a content sigh, watching the men move across the screen. The redhead soon sat up when he came up with a cheeky idea. It’d probably cost him his life, but it would be worth it.

“Let’s see how much it takes to really annoy the shit out of JoJo...” Kakyoin though, a sly smirk forming on his.

Jotaro soon came back and handed Kakyoin a cup with ice water.

“I didn’t know if you wanted ice or not.” Jotaro said as he sat down.

“It’s fine,” Kakyoin said with a kind smile, “Thank you!”

Jotaro gave his friend a small grin before turning back to the movie. Kakyoin waited a few minutes before putting his plan into action. The redhead let out a dramatic yawn and rested his feet across Jotato’s lap. The black-haired teen glanced at his friend before looking back at the TV. Kakyoin often forgets that Jotaro is a patient, young man, and it doesn’t take a lot to piss him off. Kakyoin knew this and used it to his advantage. Kakyoin pretended to stretch and dramatically crossed his legs. Jotaro continued to watch the movie as if nothing happened.

“Yeah, this is gonna harder than I thought...” Kakyoin thought, “No matter. He’ll crack soon.”

What Kakyoin didn’t know was that Jotaro had caught on to his intentions to annoy him. He knew his redheaded friend like the back of his hand, and if he was going to annoy him, he at least wants to give him a run for his money. Kakyoin sighed and placed his heels and Jotaro’s shoulder, playfully tapping the side of his head with the tip of his shoe. No reaction. Now, Kakyoin was getting frustrated. Jotaro noticed this and let the corners of his lip curve upwards.

“Is something wrong, Kakyoin?” Jotaro asked casually, allowing his grin to fade to mask the facade.

“No, no. Nothing’s wrong,” Kakyoin lied, “Nothing at all...”

Jotaro nodded and his attention back to the TV.

“Don’t worry, Kakyoin. I’ll annoy you when you least expect it and see how you like it...” Jotaro thought, glancing at the redhead.

After a few minutes of trying to annoy the crap out of Jotaro, Kakyoin let out a defeated sigh and sat upright. Jotaro smirked when he did this. Leaning back into the couch, Jotaro glanced over at Kakyoin to see his annoyed and defeated look.

“He annoyed himself.” Jotaro thought, “Let’s help him with that...”

Jotaro sat up and saw that Kakyoin was completely engulfed in the movie; it almost looked like he was sleeping. Making sure, the black-haired teen poked the redhead’s side, causing him to flinch away with a giggle. The two teens glanced at one another and Kakyoin’s cheeks turned red.

“What was that?” Jotaro asked.

“N-Nothing! It was nothing!” Kakyoin said quickly, “Nothing to worry about!”

Jotaro knew exactly what was going on and Kakyoin was praying that he didn’t. The black-haired teen shrugged his shoulders and went back to the movie. Kakyoin breathed out a sigh of relief and placed a hand on his side where Jotaro poked him. That’s when Jotaro pounced on top of him, causing Kakyoin to let out a surprised yelp. The two wrestled on the floor until Jotaro was finally on top.

“What the hell, Jotaro!?” Kakyoin asked, “What the hell was that for?”

“Good grief, Kakyoin. You really thought you could hide your secret from me?” Jotaro asked, raising a brow.

Kakyoin swallowed hard and looked away from his friend.

“W-What secret...?” Kakyoin asked with a nervous smile.

Jotaro groaned and shook his head. Not wasting any time, Jotaro raked his fingers up and down Kakyoin’s ribs and sides. Kakyoin let out a giggly yelp before dissolving into adorable giggles.

“Jotarohohohohoho! Stohohohop!” Kakayoin giggled out, “What are you dohohoihihihing?!”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Jotaro asked casually.

Kakyoin twisted from side to side, giggling his heart out.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t catch onto what you were doing?” Jotaro asked, “Trying to annoy me the shit outta me, huh? Well, now I’m gonna tickle the shit outta you!”

“How are they relevaahahahahahant?” Kakyoin asked.

Jotaro shrugged his shoulders and moved his hands down to Kakyoin’s belly and hips, moving one of his thumbs in a circular motion on the bone itself and the other vibrating on his belly. Kakyoin bucked upwards, sat up, and latched onto Jotaro’s wrists to make him stop, all while giggling wildly.

“Nohohoho! Don’t do thahahahat!” Kakyoin cried, shaking his head, and trying to pry Jotaro’s hands off him.

“Why? Too much for ya?” Jotaro asked.

The black-haired teen then started vibrating his hands all over his friend’s belly. Kakyoin wheezed before falling back to the ground, letting out louder giggles.

“Oh, my Gohohohohod!” Kakyoin cried, “Stahahaaaaap!”

The redhead flopped around like a fish out of water, his giggles gradually getting louder.

“Stahahahap! Jotaro, plehehehehease!” Kakyoin pleaded, trying to wriggle away.

“You’re not going anywhere...” Jotaro said.

That’s when the black-haired teen manifested his Stand and had it hold down Kakyoin’s hands above his head. Kakyoin’s struggling soon started into frantic thrashing, but he wasn’t getting out of Star Platinum’s titanium grip anytime soon.

“Nohohoho! Let me gohohohoho!” Kakyoin cried.

“Quit your bitchin’ and just take it.” Jotaro said in an annoyed tone.

Kakyoin could barely move. With Jotaro straddling his waist and Star Platinum holding down, he was practically bolted to the ground, and he couldn’t do anything but laugh and plead for mercy that probably wouldn’t be coming anytime soon.

“Jotaro, plehehehease! Stop ihihihit!” Kakyoin cried.

“Good, fucking grief,” Jotaro sighed, “You’re too ticklish for your own good, ya know that, right?”

Kakyoin could barely form a proper word. When Kakyoin didn’t answer his question, Jotaro groaned in mock annoyance and reached a hand behind him to squeeze his friend’s inner thigh. The redhead squealed and kicked his legs out.

“NOT THERE! NOT THEHEHEHEHERE!” Kakyoin cried.

“Weak spot?” Jotaro asked.

When Kakyoin didn’t answer, Jotaro sighed and used his other hand to squeeze his friend’s other thigh. Kakyoin wheezed and shook his head in defiance, the only part of his body he could move beside his legs.

“Next time, you better fucking answer me, understand?” Jotaro asked, “Is this a weak spot?”

“OBVIOUSLY! WHAT DO YOU THIHIHIHIHINK!?” Kakyoin asked.

Jotaro didn’t like Kakyoin’s sass, and to punish him, he started massaging one of his thumbs into his friend’s hipbone again, causing the redhead to give a wild buck and let out a new stream of laughter.

“Ya better watch it,” Jotaro said in a low voice, “Do you have any other weak spots you’d wish to share?”

“LIKE HEHEHEHELL I’D TELL YOHOHOHOHOHOU, YOU AHAHAHAHASSHOHOHOHOLE!” Kakyoin laughed.

Now, this was the sentence that sealed Noriaki Kakyoin’s fate. Jotaro stopped his attack and glared down at his panting friend.

“Thank... Thank you...” Kakyoin panted.

“Who said I was done...?” Jotaro asked.

Kakyoin looked up at his friend and felt helpless the minute he looked into Jotaro’s eyes. He was already shorter than him in height, but now, having Jotaro loom over him like this, Kakyoin felt as small as a mouse.

“I don’t appreciate your shit-talk, Kakyoin. So, until you’ve learned your lesson about not being a shitty bitch, you’ll just have to take your punishment,” Jotaro said, “Now, are you gonna tell me where your weak spot is, or are you gonna be a bitch about it?”

Kakyoin scoffed and rolled his amethyst eyes.

“You don’t scare me anymore, JoJo,” Kakyoin lied, hoping his voice wasn’t too shaky, “I have no other weak spots than my thighs, so good luck, JoJo.”

Kakyoin was just digging a deeper grave for himself. Jotaro chuckled and grinned down at his friend.

“Was hoping you’d say that ‘cause I already know where your other weak spot is.” Jotaro said.

Kakyoin stared up at his friend with wide eyes.

“How...? That’s impossible! H-He’s just bluffing! He’s gotta be...!” Kakyoin panicked.

Kakyoin prayed that Jotaro was bluffing. One thing about Jotaro Kujo that Kakyoin has forgotten in this kind of situation: Jotaro rarely ever bluffs, and at this moment, he isn’t! Jotaro started squeezing his friend’s thighs to get him laughing.

“NOHOHO! JOJOHOHOHOHO!” Kakyoin laughed.

After a while, Jotaro shot his hands into Kakyoin’s armpits. Kakyoin literally screamed with laughter, thrashing in Star Platinum’s unrelenting grip.

“NOOOHOHOHOHOOO! ANYWHERE BUT THEHEHEHEHEHERE!” Kakyoin cried.

“Thought so. I figured this would be your weak spot.” Jotaro said casually.

What Jotaro said startled the redhead.

“YOU MEHEHEHEAN YOHOHOHOU DIDN’T KNOHOHOHOHOHOW?!” Kakyoin asked, “HOHOHOW DID YOU FIHIHIHIND OHOHOHOHOUT?!”

“Pretty simple, actually. I tested every other part of your body except here,” Jotaro deadpanned, “Truth speaks for itself if you ask me.”

Kakyoin was laughing like a lunatic. Kakyoin could barely move his upper body, and to have one of his worsts spots tickled, you can imagine how torturous it must be for him.

“JAHAHAHAHAHAAAAH! JOJO! PLEASE, STAHAHAHAHAP!” Kakyoin cried.

“Have you learned your lesson about not shit-talking towards me?” Jotaro asked.

Kakyoin let out a new stream of laughter at that question.

“YOU DO IT AHAHAHALL THE TIHIHIHIME TO MEHEHEHE! WHY CAN’T IHIHIHIHI DO IT TO YOHOHOHOHOU!?” Kakyoin asked honestly.

“’Cause it’s fucking annoying.” Jotaro answered.

Kakyoin was able to growl through his gales of laughter.

“YOU DOHOHOHON’T THINK I DON’T GEHEHEHEHEHET ANNOHOHOHOHOYED!?” Kakyoin asked.

“You never say anything.” Jotaro said nonchalantly.

Kakyoin threw his head back and let out a louder stream of handsome laughter.

“OH, MY GAHAHAHAHAHAD! YOU’RE FUHUHUHUHUCKING RIDICULOHOHOHOHOUS!” Kakyoin laughed.

“What was that?” Jotaro asked, moving one hand down to squeeze Kakyoin’s thigh.

Kakyoin fell limp with laughter. He felt tears of mirth streaming down his cheeks.

“OKAY, OKAHAHAHAHAY! I’M SAHAHAHAHAAAAAA! I’M SOHOHOHORRY!” Kakyoin cried, “PLEASE STAHAHAHAHAP!”

“Did you learn you’re fucking lesson?” Jotaro asked.

Kakyoin threw his head back when Jotaro hit a sensitive part of his armpit, causing the redhead to squeal once more.

“YEHEHEHEHES! OH, GAHAHAHAHAD YEHEHEHEHES!” Kakyoin laughed, “JUST STAHAHAHAHAP!”

Staying true to his word, Jotaro stopped the ticking and called back his Stand. Kakyoin panted underneath Jotaro, sweat, and tears dripping from his face.

“You suck... so hard...” Kakyoin panted.

“Watch it, jackass.” Jotaro said pointing a finger at him.

Kakyoin rolled his eyes with a wide grin on his face. Jotaro did the same and proceeded to place a kiss on Kakyoin’s quivering lips. The black-haired teen got off the now flustered redhead and offered a hand to him. Kakyoin wanted to question the action displayed upon him, instead, he took Jotaro’s hand and stood up.

“Never tickle me like that again...” Kakyoin said, even though his cheeks were redder than before.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Jotaro asked, “I’m not ticklish.”

Kakyoin glared at his boyfriend and poked his side. Jotaro didn’t even flinch.

“Shit...” Kakyoin muttered.

Jotaro chuckled and pulled his lover into his chest.

“Don’t worry. You’ll have the whole summer to try and get me back.” Jotaro said.

Emphasis on try. And try Kakyoin will. He didn’t care if his boyfriend was built like a brick wall. After all, every wall has a weak point, and Kakyoin was determined to find Jotaro’s.

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Six

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: nsfw sort of?? barely

***

Cassian is going to kill Nesta.

He’s never met a woman so stubborn that she would rather throw herself under a bus than accept help from others.

“What happened to your rants about universal healthcare and redistributing wealth?” He gestures furiously between the two of them while keeping one hand on the steering wheel. “I’m trying to redistribute the wealth!”

She scoffs from the passenger seat. “Nice try, comrade. I’m not letting you dangle your wallet over me while I live with you for free. It’s disgusting and manipulative.”

Cassian wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. “Why do you automatically assume I’m trying to manipulate you?” he says incredulously.

“You don’t get to pay for my things,” she snaps. “They’re mine.”

“I know you’re already broke from that MRI—”

“That’s none of your business.”

They pull up to one of the university buildings. “Oh, great argument.” Cassian brings the truck to a stop. “Are you gonna use that one in court?”

Nesta buttons her blue blazer and furiously grabs her things, not saying a word.

“What are you thinking now?” Cassian pokes, the hardness dissolved from his voice a little.

She shoves the passenger door open. “How much longer it’s going to take to get my car fucking fixed,” she bites, hopping out of the truck and slamming the door shut on Cassian’s face.

Clenching his jaw, he watches her walk sharply for the building, tension ratcheting her figure. Impossible woman.

She does look damn good in a pantsuit, though.

***

Nesta has to take deep breaths before she enters the mock courtroom, refusing to let Cassian get to her head right now.

It's not his offering to pay for her endometriosis treatment that pisses her off, but it's that he won't take no for an answer. She wishes he could just let her dig herself into a hole of debt and despair like millions of Americans already do every day. She wishes he wouldn't demand an explanation from her every time she screams and cries about getting her way.

Later. Her mind clears through an imaginary filter. You’ll deal with him later.

Now, she has a case to win.

Nesta strides into the courtroom with her file of documents and takes the speaker’s bench, her opponent already seated on the other side of the aisle. Emerie Nikolis is five feet nine inches of Mediterranean goddess, and the only student at Prythian Law who’s been able to challenge Nesta for her spot at the top of the class. Not that she’s succeeded.

Nesta’s never been up against another woman for a moot court, though, and it adds a buzz to her nerves. Men always come into the courtroom with too much confidence and not enough research, and from there Nesta can steadily dismantle their arguments until they’re left spluttering. From Emerie’s cutting hawk eyes, Nesta knows she doesn’t function like that.

As student judges file in and head for their seats, Nesta leans over and mutters to Emerie, “Good luck defending the side that represents everything morally corrupt with this country.”

Emerie brushes back her ponytail and smiles mockingly at Nesta. “You mean the side that powerful white men have chosen since the beginning of time? I won’t need luck.”

Nesta scowls at the panel of student judges. They are all white men.

“You’re lucky I enjoy a challenge,” she hisses, and sits back in her seat as they start calling oyez.

***

Cassian doesn’t mean to fall asleep.

He’s cleaning up around the house while Nesta is gone, and ends up finding a worn paperback trapped between the leather cushions of the couch. Pulling it out, he takes one look at the cover and nearly chokes. A half-undressed man graces the cover in regency-era clothes, his flowy shirt unbuttoned to reveal toned abs. A woman with golden curls clutches onto him passionately, only dressed in a corset and underskirt.

A slow smirk spreads over his face and he snickers. He didn't know people read these anymore. A glance at the back of the book proves his point: published in 1999, a true vintage piece.

Plopping onto the couch and laying back, he opens the paperback. If Nesta doesn't want him reading her books, she shouldn't leave them lying around the place.

Flipping to a random page, he frowns when it isn't a smut scene. Boring. He keeps flipping until he finds one, and props his feet onto the armrest to get comfortable. Now what exactly does Nesta Archeron get off to?

Over an hour and a hundred pages of surprisingly tender romance later, his aching eyes finally slip closed. The open book falls onto his face, and the scent of faded ink follows him into sleep.

Cassian is in a dim candle-lit room. Foiled wallpaper and overstuffed furniture decorates the space, and there, by the small window, she waits.

She turns her head to speak over her shoulder, “You came.”

“I did.” The line comes to him naturally.

Without turning around, her hands reach up for her hair. She starts removing pins from her updo, golden curls falling apart one by one. Once the last pin drops, she finally turns around.

Gleaming locks now frame her soft face and shoulders; her pale breasts rise and fall above the low curve of her thin nightgown. Under the candlelight, she looks freshly forged and porcelain-like at the same time.

“Could you help me?” Nesta says.

Cassian is stuck in his spot, unable to move. He's never seen Nesta like this: so heavenly, but so different.

“Cassian?” she asks again.

“Oh,” he stutters, “um— what do you need?”

She steps closer. “You.” His breathing stops. Nesta slips her slender hands up his arms, to his shoulders. She's holding him close. “I need you to tell me something.”

“Anything.”

Her breath fans over his face. “Do you want me?”

Cassian is very still.

“Do you want me like I want you, Cassian?” she repeats, pressing closer to him. He can feel her nipples through the wispy fabric of her gown.

“Yes,” he breathes shakily. He doesn't know which hurts more: wanting Nesta or being wanted by her.

“Have you been very lonely, Cassian?” She drags her hands back down his arms, finding his hands and placing them on her shoulders. “Is that why you like having me around so much, because you’ve been lonely?”

This Nesta knows him… a little too well. His breath hitches as his hands, directed by Nesta’s hands, slowly pushes down the sleeves of her nightgown. In a flash, the fabric has dropped to her waist, baring her unblemished chest and stomach. Before Cassian can even absorb what's happening, her arms are winding around his neck again, and now she's pressing entreating kisses into the crook of his neck.

“Tell me,” she mutters onto his skin. “Do I make you feel heard, or am I just a pretty face to you?”

“Nes—Nesta.” Cassian tries to swallow air.

She smells so good. She feels so good, and she's not even doing anything to him, just holding him.

“Heard,” he gasps when she goes for the buttons of his shirt, her mouth finding his chest. “You make me feel heard. I like it when we talk and you listen to me. Nobody listens to me.”

She pulls away from him, mouth shining. He just now realizes how jarring the gilded ringlets of her hair are.

“That’s so good,” Nesta purrs, reaching up to clasp his face. Her hands feel thin and rough, like paper. “You’re so good.” She reaches in, her lips chasing his, and—

Awareness seeps into the corners of Cassian’s reality, and his eyes peel open. He blinks between two different worlds until he finally realizes— it was a dream.

Of course it was a dream. Nesta doesn't have blonde hair or curls. And her skin isn't porcelain smooth, but dotted with freckles and moles. And yet, the arousal stirred in him is very much real, evident by the ache in his dick. Fuck.

A throat clears softly and Cassian jumps. The romance book is still on his face, he notices, and his world is darkened by the rough pages. Batting it away, confused, he fully awakens when he sees who’s in front of him.

She’s still in her pantsuit from this morning, but her hair is undone and her cheeks carry a rare flush. Her clothes are rumpled.

“Nesta.” He scrambles upright, painfully aware that he was just dreaming about her half-naked. He carefully arranges his elbows on his knees, his hands dangling between his legs. “You’re back,” he says casually. Taking notice of the blackness outside the windows, he becomes concerned. “You’ve been out this whole time? Oh God, I was supposed to pick you up—”

“No, no,” she says quickly. “Didn’t you see my texts? I went out with some people from moot court.”

Cassian widens his eyes. He’s never heard her mention any friends from school, much less leave the cabin to hang out with other people.

“I totally kicked this girl’s ass in the Title IX case I was telling you about,” Nesta goes on, “and she wanted to take me out for afternoon drinks, and some other guys ended up tagging along too…” She twists a piece of hair around her finger, the experience sounding as brand new to her as Cassian suspects it is. “And yeah, then she got me a cab.”

He raises a brow and leans back. “You willingly let someone else pay for you? Wow, you really are drunk.”

The smile blossoming on her mouth drops and the cold veneer returns. “So you go through my stuff while I’m gone?” she scolds. “How many times are we going to have the boundaries conversation?”

Cassian picks up the paperback still on the couch. “Oh, this? This was just a little light reading. You know, since I share my Netflix and Prime with you, I figured you could share your period-piece smut with me.” He fans through the pages, trying to find the spot he left off on. “I didn’t even know people read physical romance books anymore. That’s like me keeping VHS tapes of porn instead of using my phone.”

Nesta stomps over and snatches the book out of his hands. “It’s not like I enjoy owning books with ugly covers,” she hisses. “I get headaches reading e-books. And this is a classic.” She carefully wipes at the cover as if Cassian got dirt all over it.

Cassian tries to snatch it back. “I wasn’t done with it,” he grits. “Nesta, give it back.”

“I’m glad we brought up boundaries,” she says instead. “Because we need to talk about this morning.” Shoving the book into her pants waistband, she peels off her blazer and takes a seat on the coffee table in front of Cassian.

Cassian blinks, gripped by the authority in her movements. Nesta pokes a finger at his chest. “What you said bothered me all day. Nearly ruined my night. So I’m telling you now, I’m not taking your money for anything, ever. And if you bring up the topic again, I’m moving out.” She sounds dead serious.

He’s not afraid of her. “I’m bringing up the topic now,” he pushes back, his tone hard. “As someone who considers you a friend, I don’t like to see my friends struggling.”

Nesta blinks, and maybe finally accepts that she can’t fight her way out of this, because she drops her finger. “I can’t be financially dependent on a man, Cassian,” she admits, refusing to look away from him. “I’ve done it before, and it’s no way to live life. I don’t care how nice you are; I’m not taking your money. And you can’t make me.” She doesn’t shout or hiss that last part. It’s said with a quiet strength, and it makes Cassian want to concede everything. If this is about her ex-boyfriend, then he doesn’t want to be anything like him.

But it doesn’t change the fact that her health is still on the line. “What if you don’t take my money?” he says quickly. “What if I make you work for it?”

Law school doesn’t allow for part-time jobs on the side, and Nesta’s been scraping by with scholarships and leftover money from her father’s will. The suffering is worth it now, she told Cassian once, if she’s at a law firm the year after next with a starting salary of 100K.

Nesta purses her lips, skeptical. “What kind of work?”

“You can be a legal consultant for Night Court.”

“Do I look qualified to be a legal consultant?” She’s glaring now.

“Well, it’s either that or you get to be my personal assistant.” Nesta looks even more outraged at that, and Cassian holds up his hands. “I respect your need to stay independent,” he says, “but you can’t convince me that a handout or two is worse than going broke.” Cassian himself would be dead right now without all the handouts he got over the course of his life. “Please, Nesta,” he says quietly. “Think about it for me. And if you still hate it, I’ll never bother you about it again.” Even though it would kill him.

Nesta stares at him, the gears in her brain visibly turning. Finally— “Rhysand’s company does run on handouts anyway,” she mutters, glancing away. “What’s one more?”

Before Cassian can drop to his knees and thank her, she whips her head back to him. “But I want to do real work, Cassian. Not the pretense of work while I get a fat paycheck.”

He bursts into a grin and grabs her arms. “I’m gonna work you so hard.” He kisses her hard on the cheek.

Nesta makes a choking noise and starts coughing, and Cassian realizes how that sounded. “Did I say something wrong?” he plays innocent.

Nesta’s face is red for reasons other than alcohol now, but she covers it up by shoving Cassian hard enough to send him into the couch cushions. “Asshole.” She pulls her book out of her waistband and throws it at Cassian’s chest. “Have your romance back, I’m going to bed.”

“Hey— wait, it's six p.m. What about the puzzle?” he calls after her. She ignores him and keeps walking.

“Fine,” he says to her back, “but don't go to sleep with your contacts in again; you're gonna hurt yourself.”

As she reaches the stairs, he adds, “I’m proud of you for the moot court, by the way. I’m telling everybody you're the smartest person I know.”

Nesta pauses briefly at that, before saying, “Goodnight, Cassian,” and continuing up to her room.

Later that night, Cassian does want to tell everybody that Nesta is the smartest person he knows. She's the smartest, coolest, and wittiest person he knows, full stop, with killer looks and a criminally underrated personality. But something is holding him back from sharing his feelings with the rest of the world.

It's the same feeling that's had him avoiding Feyre these last few weeks. The unspoken knowledge that not everybody sees Nesta the way Cassian does, paired with the fierce desire to protect her from any sort of criticism.

He doesn't have any definitive proof to justify his feelings, but he knows he can't stop thinking about Nesta. He knows his friends will take notice of the change in his behavior eventually, so in a fit of restlessness, he reaches for his phone to test a theory.

Scrolling through his contacts, Cassian eventually settles on Mor. She's close to Feyre and Cassian both, has an inclination to gossip, and she’s never interacted with Nesta. Perfect.

Cassian: what do you think of Nesta?

He's straightforward with her the way he always is, the way she always is with him.

Mor answers quickly without question: didn’t she let feyre work her ass off at age 14 while she sat around and did nothing?

Mor: she sounds like a bitch and i have yet to see anything to the contrary.

Mor: she has very nice eyes though

Mor: if u know what i mean ( . )( . )

Cassian wishes he hadn’t even asked. He doesn’t even know how to reply to that, so he’s about to turn his phone off when another message from Mor comes in.

Mor: why do you ask? how are things going with you two?

Cassian sighs deeply, not in the mood to start a fight with one of his best friends. He never told Feyre about taking Nesta to the doctor, or the following MRI and diagnosis. The last time he had a real conversation with Feyre was the first night of Nesta’s period, when he was worried sick over how to take care of her.

“What should I do, Feyre? She's crying herself sick upstairs and all I have is this stupid hot towel.”

“You don't have to do that,” she sighed tiredly over the phone. “Nesta goes through this every month. She’ll survive. Don’t get yourself worked up over nothing.”

That was when he decided he was calling a doctor no matter what.

And now… He’s confused and upset and he doesn't know why. Instead of arguing with Mor, he texts back, it’s nothing. A second later, he adds, but she's not a bitch.

He wants to say more, but texting Mor an essay on why she’s wrong for judging Nesta without knowing her would make him look crazy, among other things. He doesn’t know why he has to clarify that Nesta isn’t a bitch in the first place.

Either way, Cassian’s theory was proven correct.

He decides not to mention Nesta to his friends anymore.

***

Nesta lays in bed, thinking about the absolute day she’s had.

If getting drunk with Emerie Nikolis and Eris Vanserra at two in the afternoon wasn’t enough, stumbling back home to find Cassian like that finished her off for good. Her cheek has been tingling for hours.

She remembers how this housing agreement between them first started: I need you to know you can enforce whatever rules and boundaries you want while you’re here.

Nesta huffs a laugh. Boundaries are for strangers. Cassian seems content to poke and tug at Nesta’s boundaries whenever he wants, and Nesta… is okay with this. A mere month ago, this would have been her worst nightmare— living with a man who pushes her on every decision, who never does what she wants but somehow always knows what she needs.

But now they're friends, and Nesta is slowly learning that the rules are different with friends. Not everything has to be spelled out, because Cassian will understand what she's trying to say anyway. Not everything that is unknown has to be scary, because Cassian is never scary.

He’s allowed to read her books because he won’t make fun of them. He's allowed to know about her personal health matters because he won’t tell anybody else. And apparently, he’s allowed to give her a job so she doesn’t go broke trying to afford endo treatment.

These are the new rules.

She’s ridiculously glad that she told Lorene she won’t be coming back to the apartment for a few weeks. She doesn't know what she'll do after then, but for now she is okay.

***

a/n: hello i love writing cassian pov and learning more about him so much :) also thinking about having cassian call nesta 'baby' when they get together more often than 'sweetheart' just bc i think it would be a good look on him. pls share ur opinion.

tagging: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies

[wroammin]

a hero’s welcome

word count: 1445

warnings: self-loathing, panic attacks, crying, slight gore (because remus)

summary: roman hides out in his room after the events of putting others first. the other sides try to show him how much he’s missed in their own special ways.

once again, happy birthday to the man, the myth, the himbo: roman sanders

it takes weeks for roman to come out of his room after janus reveals his name.

the others worry almost constantly about his well-being, but after multiple failed attempts at convincing him to come out for movie nights, video recordings, or even just food, they can only hope that roman will come around on his own eventually.

and he does. slowly.

it starts with a few missing disney movies from the TV cabinet, a half-eaten jar of logan’s off-limits crofter’s (which both logan & remus swear they did not touch) left mysteriously on the kitchen counter, and then, on one particularly late night for logan, a brief, silent encounter with a bleary-eyed prince in search of a cup of water.

logan notices roman is looking more bedraggled than bedazzled, with wrinkles running all across his costume and dark-colored bags under his eyes that are eerily reminiscent of virgil’s eyeshadow.

no words are exchanged, but as logan carefully hands roman a glass which he’s filled nearly to the brim, roman knows no words are necessary. he can practically recite logan’s self-care spiel by memory anyway.

eventually, the disney movie collection in the TV cabinet dwindles down to a Frozen DVD (which they’d all recently rewatched anyway), and the old, dusty VHS copy of Black Cauldron (which roman’s never particularly liked). seeing as it’s his personal favorite disney movie, virgil tries not to feel too offended by that.

what virgil can’t stop himself from feeling, however, is worry. it’s not an unfamiliar feeling to him, of course, but it doesn’t make him any less uncomfortable.

he tries all of the usual things to calm his nerves: sitting on strange surfaces, fiddling with a fidget cube, rewatching The Nightmare Before Christmas, napping excessively, and—naturally—blasting music through his bulky headphones.

but even with My Chemical Romance screaming out of his speakers, virgil simply can’t ignore the alarming absence of that familiar, sash-framed figure. 

despite his quarrelsome quips with the prince, virgil can admit that there’s always been a certain... comfort to hearing roman’s boisterous voice belting broadway ballads down the halls, or seeing him dash off on another adventure to defeat the dragon witch for the umpteenth time. 

it’s when virgil’s sullenly staring at roman’s usual spot, in the corner of his room, that an idea suddenly strikes him. 

the next morning, roman sneaks down to the living room in the early hours of the day after deciding that rewatching Frozen (again) doesn’t sound so bad after all. he opens the movie cabinet to find a bit of a surprise in the form of a The Nightmare Before Christmas DVD with a scrap of paper taped hastily to the cover. the chicken scratch scrawled onto the sheet is hard to decipher, but he manages to see it reads:

“i have my own backup copy and i’ll hit play at 8pm tonight. you can do it too, so then we can sort of watch the movie together. i’ll let you pick tomorrow’s movie, if you want to, but fyi i will be picking black cauldron the next time it’s my turn. -virgil”

roman smiles subtly as he makes his way back up to his room, the first flicker of joy he’s felt in a while.

he sits down to watch the movie at 8pm, just like virgil instructed. 

for the next night, he chooses aladdin, and for the night after that, he begrudgingly agrees to watch black cauldron. 

twenty minutes into the film, virgil hears a haste knock at his door. before he even knows what’s happening, roman is shuffling inside and curling up on the couch next to him. 

unsurprisingly, the tired prince falls asleep before the movie finishes. surprisingly, virgil doesn’t actually mind all that much. 

meanwhile, patton has nearly eaten his way through the entire cookie stock in the pantry.

it’s not a healthy coping mechanism for his sadness, he knows, but it’s not like he can just go and ask roman to conjure up some puppies for him instead. patton sniffles at the thought, which serves as a painful reminder of how roman was always there for him when he was feeling down, and how patton can’t do the same for him now.

the others hold an intervention for him after logan finds him sobbing over some reheated spaghetti because it made him think of roman. virgil then explains how he’s been watching movies with roman, and how patton can leave some snacks for the prince in the cabinet along with a note if he wants to send a message. 

that very night, patton stays up past midnight to prepare some spaghetti with extra, extra love (& cumin) for roman. he draws him a card and writes a message inside, then sticks it to the top of the tupperware container containing the spaghetti using glitter glue. 

upon discovering patton’s care package beside virgil’s usual note inside the cabinet, roman feels his mood suddenly shift.

he thinks of the days he spent sobbing for hours inside of his room and staring in the mirror and pacing back and forth and staring in the mirror and laying on his bed and staring in the mirror and working through the tears and staring in the mirror and then slicing a line clean through the mirror with his sword and watching his reflection split in two.

those weren’t good days.

but then he thinks of patton’s pleading, hopeful voice whenever he would call him down for movie nights, video recordings, or food.

maybe patton wasn’t lying when he said roman was loved. maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to see him and the others out in the open again. maybe there were better days ahead.

remus, however, doesn’t wait around for roman to feel better. as always, he continuously swings by his brother’s room whenever he feels like it and leaves whenever he pleases.

still, his visits aren’t as fun anymore. perhaps he just doesn’t have the energy, but roman no longer bothers to shriek at remus to get out of his room or to push remus off his desk when he drapes himself across it.

not even the severed, mutilated head that remus kindly leaves on roman’s pillow elicits its usual slew of creative curse words, so the duke decides to step up his game.

he skips casually into roman’s room one late afternoon, lazily swinging his morning star at his side and whistling a jaunty tune. as usual, roman doesn’t spare him a single glance. he’s staring down at some kind of crayon-covered card.

it only takes one hit to knock roman out, but dragging him into the living room is a much more difficult process.

the other sides are already waiting, just like janus promised they would be. they rush over and prop roman up on the couch. patton gives remus a few reprimanding words, virgil sends him a couple scowls, and even logan looks on with more disapproval than usual, but they quickly forget their anger at him as soon as roman groans groggily and slowly blinks open his eyes.

remus takes that as his cue to leave. janus is waiting at the top of the stairs.

“so you’re sure that this plan of yours is going to work?”

janus scoffs. “of course i am. though, have you considered that perhaps you’re just not as annoying to your brother anymore?”

“have you considered that perhaps i could start leaving chopped heads on your pillow instead if your ‘master plan’ fails?” remus shoots him the prettiest, toothiest smile he can muster.

janus’ expression darkens. “well. i suppose it’s a good thing i’m certain it will work, then.”

the sound of laughter bubbles up from the living room. janus doesn’t bother to hide his satisfied smirk.

“i’ll say, when you told me you could help me get roman back to normal, forcing him to attend a party was not what i had in mind.”

“do i even want to know what you had in mind?” janus gives him a quick side glance.

remus’ eyes light up. “well–”

“rhetorical question, remus. ugh, maybe i should start saying ‘figuratively’, as well. anyway, yes, i thought it was about time roman stopped sulking. so, what better way to get him out of his room than by having a, uh, hero’s welcome of sorts for him?”

“well, i got him out of his room by dragging him by his feet.”

janus sighs, wondering why he even opens his mouth to speak anymore. 

his plan better work.

though, judging by the sound of patton and logan’s exhasperated sighs as roman and virgil argue over which movie to watch, he has the sneaking suspicion it will.

[memes-saved-me]

What was originally a quick headcanon became a 2.2K p*rn with some plot thanks to @cockasinthebird 😉

《NSFT/W under the cut》

Steve had seen that Polaroid, seen it in his mind late at night but he never thought he would actually see Billy wearing it. Especially, after Starcourt. He knew how self conscious Billy had become from the scars covering his chest and back, the scars that reminded him of terrible acts and bad times. It was more that people would ask how he got them if they caught a glimpse of the white streaks spread across his torso. He would have to lie and say it was the fire or a car accident but Steve would always pull him aside and tell him how much he loved them because in some twisted way it brought Billy to him.

So, when Billy walked down the stairs one morning in nothing but a pair of Steve's shorts and that Everlast crop he couldn't believe it. Couldn't process it as Billy stretched and walked into the kitchen bare foot like he did every morning he stayed the night. All he could do was stare at him.

"What?" Billy asked confused. His hair still a mess, sticking up in random places and completely flat at the back. He didn't reply, instead he moved and soon had Billy pinned up against the counter and his hands up the grey shirt. Running his fingers over the hard muscle underneath, then down his stomach until he reached the elastic waistband of the shorts. "Steve."

He pulled at them and kissed Billy hard and desperate. Not thinking with the head on his shoulders at all he pulled at the shorts until he had them around Billy thick thighs. He loved his thighs in tight shorts, especially Steve's because they were a size or two smaller than what Billy should be wearing.

Billy didn't complain, he relaxed against the cold marble. Didn't even ask he just let Steve grab him and keep kissing him as he felt his cold fingers on his warm skin under that shirt.

It wasn't until he went to pull off the top that Steve stopped and grabbed his wrists, leaving him half hard and confused. But he still went along with it, let Steve place his hands back on the edge of the counter and watched as he continued. Moaned as he teasingly grabbed at his pecks and jerked him off in the early morning sunlight.

Billy always looked so good at this time, the light catching the gold flecks in his air and in the summer his freckles could just be seen. Didn't matter if his hair was all mated or if he clearly hadn't showered yet. This was Steve's favourite Billy. Soft, warm and his. No one saw him like this but Steve did and he loved knowing that.

Even if he had something to say Steve wasn't giving him the chance to because his mouth was still on his as he continued his sudden need to do this to Billy. All because of this damn tank top.

He moved to kissing his way from Billy's neck to lifting up the grey fabric and kissing his still warm chest, then his stomach. He paused and looked up at him to see his eyes fixed right on him, not looking away for a second. Steve licked his tip and teached up to put his hands under the top again, feel the fabric brushing his knuckles and Billy's chest rise at the sudden sensation.

Steve knew how Billy worked, knew exactly what to do to get him where he wanted. So, without warning he began licking around him in circles, making sure to hit that sweet spot under his head. Make his legs weak and his fingers grip his messy hair. The sounds he was making were enough encouragement for Steve to continue until he finally took him in.

Felt his breathing become heavier, twitch slightly and then. Billy lurched forward and shot right into the back of Steve's throat. Except, he didn't stop. He kept going to make sure he got every bit he could out of him before swallowing and standing up to see his work.

Billy was blisted out. His eyes heavier than they were before and honestly Steve was proud of himself. That must have been a record for time. Normally he liked to edge him, keep him begging for more but right then he needed to get it done and suppress the feeling that top gave him.

The next time Billy wore it was about two weeks later while they were having a beer out by the pool. It wasn't particularly warm but the heat from the water was enough to keep Steve happy in his jumper and jeans. Billy, however, had decided he wanted to wear nothing but his own pyjama bottoms and that top.

He strolled out and walked right up to Steve and sat between his legs on the deckchair. "You're so warm," Billy remarked and snuggled into him.

Steve, again couldn't speak. He didn't even wrap his arms around Billy because his brain had short-circuited and he began kissing Billy's neck instead. Running his hands up his back under the shirt and instantly needing to repeat his actions from last time. Billy followed and stood up so that he could straddle Steve.

Have Steve looking up at him as he rest his hands on his shoulders for support. That was when Steve lifted the shirt and began licking Billy's nipples. He had never wanted to this much his entire time with him but something about that shirt made whatever was underneath so much more hot and he needed to get a hold of it.

Billy leant back so that he could get a better reach, let out quiet groans into the cool night air as Steve went to work on him. Except, he was so busy he didn't notice Billy reaching for his fly and pulling out his semi and moving his thumb over his head.

That was when Steve pulled down the shirt and kissed Billy while he pulled down his red and white checked pants to get a hold of him. Not a word was said, they had done similar stuff too many times to count since Billy recovered and they realised that they were more than friends.

It didn't take long for the two of them to finish, for Billy to lean forward and press their foreheads together as he groaned as he shot all over Steve's jumper and his hand. Steve grabbed at Billy's chest and he finished, unfortunately on the top. Meaning it had to be washed and would not be making an appearance for a little while.

The worst time was in the summer. About a week after Billy had worn it to bed and Steve had fucked him into the mattress while grabbing at the grey material to hold him down. It was the worst because the kids were over.

The pool had closed because some kid took a shit and it had to be cleaned for the next 48hrs so Steve offered his own. Not like his parents were around to be around to say no.

So Max, Lucas, Dustin and Mike were all lounging around in the sun. Steve messing around with the radio as Robin carried drinks to the little table near the grass. That was when Billy appeared, in nothing but that shirt and his old Lifeguard shorts. Steve was like 90% sure he had thrown those out but apparently not and he had brought them over just for the occasion.

"What? I wasn't gonna waste money on a new pair when I got these for free," Billy shrugged as he walked over to take his place on one of the deckchairs.

Steve knew by his face that he was doing this on purpose, he didn't need to wear a shirt but there he was in all his sun kissed glory. It took everything he had to not make up some excuse and drag Billy upstairs.

I need help with something. No.

Can you have a look at the Beamer because its acting up and you're a trainee mechanic. No.

Come help me pick a movie for later. No.

No way was he going to get Billy away from the pool and it not be obvious. So he had to sit and wait, avoid looking at him. Avoid thinking about it until finally the sun started to set and everyone needed to go home.

Within a minute of Steve waving Dustin goodbye he had Billy pressed against the kitchen sink. "I hate you."

"Not in this you don't," Billy smirked and spun around so that Steve was the one against the cold counter. His hands wet from the sink and his shorts becoming tight from the thought of Billy fucking him in that top.

Without a word Billy lifted Steve up by his ass and let him wrap his legs around his waist so that he could carry him into the living room and lower him onto the chair. "My dad's chair?"

"You scared he's gonna find out?" Billy didn't waste a second pulling off Steve's shorts and throwing them somewhere on the carpet. The blinds weren't even closed but it didn't matter because all he could think about was the fact Billy was standing over him in that shirt and he needed him to do whatever he was going to right that minute.

He was already half way there and all he needed was Billy pulling off his own shorts and revealing that he was already hard to get Steve to the same level. Billy was so thick, everything about him was thick. His arms, his thighs, fingers and most importantly his...

"Bottle's upstairs," Steve said but Billy just chuckled.

"Not today, princess."

Billy moved in nothing but the tank top towards the TV and bent down to grab something from behind the pile of vhs tapes that Steve had brought home from work. It was the bottle he always kept by his bed and Billy had moved it like he knew this was going to happen.

It wasn't necessary to question it because it didn't matter and it only sped up the whole thing which he was thankful for. Billy walked back over and knelt down in front of the chair to lift Steve's legs and get a good position. He heard the familiar sound of the bottle squeezing out the lube and then felt Billy move his thigh just a little more before looking at him and massaging his hole.

All he could do was lie their, his neck bent upwards and his legs in the air as Billy got him ready. Added a finger and began curling it and sliding in and out. Two fingers and then scissoring them to open him up, knowing he needed to be a little more open then himself because they had done this too many times to count. Once they knew they were clean, condoms weren't even a thought and once they knew how much better it was without them they were never mentioned again.

"That's enough," Steve breathed and Billy moved to get between his legs, put himself right against his entrance and begin pushing inside slowly to make sure Steve was comfortable.

Once he was, that was it. Steve held on for dear life as Billy fucked into him, his hands holding Steve's hips up in the air and Steve gripped to the loose fabric as much as he could from his position.

The cursing and the sounds he was making would make his grandmother cry but Billy was hitting his spot everytime and he was so close. He way the top was swaying with every thrust, the sweat patches appearing under his arms and the look in Billy's eyes and he moved at such a speed you could hear his hips hitting Steve, it was all too much and then Steve came. Untouched and hot, shooting onto his own bare chest as Billy continued. Didn't let up or stop his pace for a second making Steve grip to the shirt even more.

Billy leant forward, moving his hands to grip the arms of the chair as he came inside. Thick and hot just like Billy himself and then he collapsed on top of Steve, his head on his chest as he caught his breath. Steve ran his fingers through his sweat socked hair and took in the exhaustion.

When Billy finally stood up he pulled off the shirt and threw it on the pile of shorts. "I'm never getting rid of that," he smiled before scooping Steve up and carrying him towards the downstairs bathroom.

"I'll buy you a new one if you do," Steve replied as he sat on the toilet lid as Billy pulled back the shower curtain and turned on the hot water.

It became some kind of game between them but only in private. Although Billy loved the way it made him feel with Steve he would never wear it in public. Although the idea of walking into Family Video in nothing but jean shorts and the tank had come to mind he couldn't do that to poor Robin and the thought of the questions and lies put him off.

That didn't stop him from wearing it to bed, or to the backyard or under his jacket one night by the quarry. He knew exactly what was guaranteed by his wearing of it and that was a dangerous piece of information for him to have about Steve.

[heyyy-hey-babyyy]

Rules Are Rules

Part I

Summary: Dean stops at a rundown motel hoping him and Y/N can get a few hours of sleep before heading home. Instead, they find unspeakable horrors. Can they escape the motel with their lives?

Dean x reader

Warnings: Horror level descriptions, canon-level violence, slight swearing. 

Spoilers for Vacancy (2007) below. 

B/N: This is another in my SPN horror AU crossover series. As always, I change some of the plot to make it make sense for Sam or Dean Winchester. Let me know if you want to be tagged in more of these crossovers!  

Dean had been driving half of the night when he saw the “Pinewood Motel” sign, orange and white glowing across the wet parking lot. Y/N was sprawled out in the back seat, snoring softly, your head resting on one of Dean’s flannels that he figured you must have stolen from his bag when he wasn’t looking. He chuckled to himself, guiding Baby into the deserted parking lot, turning to a stop in front of the lit ‘office’ door. Dean glanced back at Y/N, but you were fast asleep, so he left you to it, stepping out of the car and heading into the office to get a room for the night.

He stepped aside, holding the door open for the couple that looked like they either couldn’t get away from the manager, or away from each other, fast enough.

“Y’all have a great night!” The guy behind the desk yelled in farewell, eyeing the couple as they exited out the door. Dean nodded at the man leaving, and he grimaced back, looking like he had driven just as long as Dean had. 

The office manager was a sleazy looking guy, dressed like he stepped straight out of the ‘70s, thick framed glasses and all. He looked a bit put out, at having multiple guests in a row, the door behind him hiding whatever porn the guy was likely enjoying moments before. 

“Now, what can I do you for?” He turned to Dean leaning on the counter top. 

“Just a room.” Dean grunted out, careful to keep an eye on the Impala, Y/N still asleep in the back seat. He slapped down a few bills on the counter, figuring the run down place only accepted cash. 

“You got it.” The guy replied, reaching behind him to grab a simple key with an old school keychain off of the wall, the number 6 scratched off lightly. “Just gonna need to see some ID.” Dean narrowed his eyes, but pulled out his wallet producing the ID he had been using on the hunt him and Y/N were returning from. The hunt that turned out to be a complete waste of time. 

“Alright Mr. Vaughan, I’ve got you up in number 6, just around the corner.” Dean thanked the man quickly, rapping his knuckles on the counter and heading back out to the Impala, the guy watching his every move before disappearing behind the wooden door behind him. Dean backed Baby out of the spot quickly, heading toward the door with the rusted #6 on it. He didn’t want to wake you up, but wasn’t sure how to grab the bags and you and make it through the door. 

You grunted softly, voice still thick with sleep, when Dean shook your shoulder. Rubbing your eyes you glanced out toward the room illuminated by the headlights of the car, and smiled at Dean in appreciation. 

“Finally,” you moaned out, stretching your arms above your head. “A real bed.” Dean chuckled lowly and followed you out of the car, grabbing yours and his duffle from the trunk. 

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up for a great nights sleep here, sweetheart.” He said, opening the door to their room and ushering Y/N in from the eery parking lot. 

“Well,” you took in the room around you, simple brass wall decor, and minty green comforter. “We’ve stayed in worse.” You concluded with a shrug. 

“Yeah, remember that place in Albuquerque?” You shuttered in response, thinking about curling yourself up on the leather chair in the corner in the place that you were sure had bed bugs. Dean laughed lightly at your reaction, but gestured toward the bathroom. “You wanna take a shower?” You smirked at him suggestively, and he rolled his eyes playfully at you. But you shook your head, wanting to go back to sleep, and besides, the hunt hadn’t turned into any action that would require you to wash the blood away anyway. Dean shut himself away in the bathroom without another word. As if on cue, you heard a dull pounding sound against one of the walls, but you shrugged it off concluding that it was probably the tenants in the next room going at it. You heard a muffled voice yell something followed with a loud “asshole!” And you chuckled to yourself. Motel living wasn’t without it’s perks. The sounds had you reminiscing. This wasn’t the first time you stayed in a motel with Dean, but usually it was with Sam as well, and you would have had to be blind to not notice the one lone bed sitting in the middle of the room Dean directed you into minutes before. You stared at the pea-colored sheets and pillows getting a bit nervous at the prospect of sharing a bed, alone, with Dean. It all seemed very romance novely, and you shook the not so innocent thoughts from your head. 

Instead, you sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed the ancient remote control next to you, flipping on the tube television against the opposite wall. Huffing in annoyance, you clicked the remote a few times, each channel coming up with static and white noise. You noticed a few VHS tapes on top of the TV, so you popped one in saying a silent prayer that if it was porn, at least be porn with a plot. 

The tape opened with an up close view of a man with rope tied tightly across his neck. Two other men were shoving him around roughly, and though you were one for horror movies, you were about to turn it off when a wide angle gave you the perfect view of the weird brass art and orange couch that mirrored the ones that were set up in the very room you were sitting in. The two men hoisted the other up, using a rope to hang him from the neck by the ceiling. You were so shocked by what you were seeing, you didn’t hear Dean step out of the bathroom, and come stand next to you. 

“What is this?” He asked quietly, and you jumped, his hand coming out to hold you steady by the shoulder. 

“Dean,” you gasped, suddenly struggling to take in enough air to breath normally. “I think this video was recorded in one of these rooms.” Dean scoffed a little, but looked into your eyes, seeing how serious you were, so he focused back on the TV, the movie continuing to play. There were 3 other tapes on top of the VCR, so Dean ejected the one that was currently playing, and popped in another, letting the VCR whirr to life before pressing play. You moved to sit back on the bed, watching Dean take in the next video, which seemed to be two girls from the loud screams that erupted from the tiny TV speakers. Dean’s head was blocking the screen, but you could hear the screaming loud and clear, and you pressed the palms of your hands against your ears, hoping to drown out the noise. You couldn’t hear what was happening anymore, but Dean stood to his full height, taking in the room around you, turning this way and that putting the pieces together. You took a quick glance at the screen just in time to see a blonde head being shoved into the bedside lamp that was right next to you. Standing suddenly, you took in the rest of the room just as Dean had.

“What is this?” You finally asked, Dean grunting out an “I don’t know,” in response, walking swiftly across the room to peer into an air vent precariously placed on the wall. One of the girls on the screen was being stabbed multiple times, so as Dean walked across the room once more, you shut off the TV, bathing the room in silence. Dean came and stood next to you, and suddenly the lights in the room went out, the faint thud you heard earlier returning. You unconsciously moved forward shielding yourself behind Dean, who drew his gun, when the lights turned on again, pulsing on and off to the beat of the thuds next door. This wasn’t a situation either of you had ever been in before, and the hilarious thought that maybe you were both stuck in a horror movie crossed your mind. Dean stood still, hunter instinct on overdrive, as he used his senses to determine where, and what, the risk was. 

“Where’s your gun, Y/N?” Dean asked suddenly. You reached behind you, hoping to feel cool metal. When you didn’t, you looked up at Dean guiltily, and he grunted out a “son of a bitch,” realizing we only had 1 weapon between us, and who knows what hiding around this motel.

“Okay, okay.” Dean said, glancing around the room again, formulating a game plan. He grabbed your hand roughly, and walked swiftly toward the bathroom, pushing aside the ugly grey curtain and slamming down on the tiny window. 

“Dammit!” He yelled, seeing the nails haphazardly hammered into the soft wood of the window, keeping it permanently closed. 

“Dean,” you whispered, getting him to stop pounding on the window. “Come on, let’s find a different way.” Dean nodded and you headed toward the bathroom door, when he pulled you back by the arm. 

“When did you bring this in?” He questioned, seeing the familiar fabric of his red and black checkered flannel, laying across the edge of the sink. You looked at him questionably. You hadn’t even gone into the bathroom. 

“I didn’t,” you whispered again, eyes widening when you realized you had left the shirt in the back seat of the Impala. “What’s happening?” You whimpered more to yourself, but Dean pulled you out of the bathroom and proceeded to tear it apart, tugging the towels from the racks and pulling the shower curtain from its rod roughly, uncovering whoever, or whatever, must have still been inside. 

“How could they get in...” You whispered again, beginning to feel more and more frightened the longer Dean was losing control, not able to find the answers for himself. 

“I don’t know,” He muttered, returning to the main room, and shutting off all of the lamps, bathing the room in uncomfortable darkness for a second time that night. 

Horror tag list (tagging people who asked/enjoyed my horror/SPN crossovers)

@idksupernatural​

@vicmc624​

Dean tag list

@akshi8278​

[asteriismos]

Tear You Apart -- Bill Denbrough

Authors Note : wooo this was a whirlwind to write. self quarantine is slowly starting to eat me alive, but I hope everyone is doing good! stay healthy and wash hands! also, if anyone wants to be on the tagging list, just shoot me a message or an ask! I also changed around the request slightly but it’s pretty much the same thing. Requests are still open.

Warning(s) : smut ( obviously ), seventeen! bill denbrough, choking, this is kinda just filth but what’s new, im going to hell

Request : 

Loved your last bill smut you posted! Can you do one where the losers all have a sleepover and Bill has to share an air mattress with the reader and they end up having really hot sex while trying not to wake up the losers yet fail bc the reader is loud asf and maybe the reader has a choking kink and tells him while they’re making out to choke her harder. and the next day they have marks all over? (Sorry my thirst for Bill is unreal rn 😂). Ok so I also wanted to add to my bill x reader smut where he tries to push the reader to her limit and see how many times she can cum and it gets to the point where she’s screaming and crying at the same time bc oof 🥵 that’s hot (again I apologize for my horny ass I just wanted to add a little to my request)

When Richie Tozier gave the suggestion that the friend group should have a sleepover over Labor Day weekend, you were one of the first to scream yes. It was the beginnings of your senior year and you weren't going to waste a second of it, you wanted to spend every second you could with your friends and boyfriend, Bill.

The only problem was that it took a while to find the house you all should sleepover at. Though Richie had the idea, he said that his parents were planning something Saturday night, which meant a no from his end. Eddie’s mother wouldn't allow anyone over because of germs, and Bev’s aunt was not about to have eight teenagers in their apartment. 

Luckily, Bill’s parents were out of town for the weekend because of the holiday, so you all finally could take the plan for action.

The rest of the day was dedicated to getting supplies for said sleepover. You and Bill went to the dollar store on the corner for snacks, Mike and Stan went to get as many blankets as they could, Eddie and Richie got movies, and Ben and Beverly set up the spare air mattresses in the large living room.

Once all of you got back, the party finally began.

“We have to watch Jurassic Park. It just came out on to VHS tapes,” Richie begged to the group. “And it’s so good, you gotta admit.”

“Richie, no, come -” Eddie’s rejection sentence got cut off by Richie already putting in the tape. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, obviously. “Fine, whatever.”

All of you laughed at the two bickering and settled in for the movie. You were sharing an air mattress with Bill, the giant bowl of popcorn sharing both of your laps. You two were all snuggled and cozy under two blankets. As the movie got started, you felt his left hand land on your thigh. It wasn’t unlike him to put his hand there, considering you two weren’t prudes to types of PDA, but for some reason it felt different this time. It felt like there was a motive behind it. 

You looked at your boyfriend, and even in the dim lighting of his living room you could see a smirk on his face. 

Well, you thought to yourself, two can play at this game.

Your own hand came down under the covers and laid on his thigh, giving it a good squeeze. Bill tensed up under your touch, breathing in a very big amount of air as he kept his eyes on the movie. He wasn’t going to give up without a fight, that was sure.

A good ten minutes passed with no other touches from Bill, maybe he had stopped for the night in fear that your friends would start to notice the strange behavior between the two of you. You two weren’t all that good at being subtle, to be honest.

However, your previous thoughts seemed to be wiped away when you felt his hand go to your waistband of your sweatpants. Your legs tensed up for a moment and your stomach churned, looking around at your friends to see if they noticed. They hadn't, all of them were focused on the movie, since it was getting to the good part. That was a good thing, considering if any of them found out about this ( particularly Richie ) you two would not hear the end of it. 

His hand slipped under the waistband and stilled for a moment, almost as if he was asking permission. You grabbed it and squeezed it, signaling that you were okay with it. And with that, he proceeded up go under your underwear lining. You breathed in sharply, causing Ben to look your way.

“Popcorn kernel,” you whispered his way. He nodded and turned his attention to the movie once again. From the corner of your eye you could see Bill laugh a little bit. Glad to see he was enjoying this. You tried to keep your face from reacting when his middle finger entered you. 

But it felt really fucking good.

He stayed with one finger for a while, pushing in and out slowly, with rhythm. You turned to look at him and awkwardly held up a peace sign, signaling that you wanted another finger. Bill happily obliged, slipping another finger into you. That was enough to start changing the pace of your breathing, your focus at the bowl of popcorn on your legs. The movie was playing in the background but you couldn’t even think about it. Instead, you were thinking about the earliest you could fuck the shit out of Bill.

Which was now. You couldn’t take it anymore. You had to feel him inside of you, all of him. The want and desire was enough for you to quickly grab his hand, stand up and say, “We’re going to go make some more popcorn.” The Losers nodded, their eyes still fixated on the film. You pulled Bill by the hand into his family’s kitchen, not wasting a second of the limited time you two had before one of them would get suspicious.

His lips caught yours first, his body pushing you up to the top of the island counter. You obliged, scooting so that your butt was seated on the edge of the island, your legs wrapping around his torso. There wasn't an open space between you two as you kissed, the air in the room got hotter and hotter. It was the thrill of you two doing this in his kitchen, but also the thrill that someone would come in and witness the very unholy thing that was going down.

Bill pulled away from your lips, his kisses instead going on your cheek and along your jaw. They got up to your ear and he whispered, “I want to see how many times you can cum.” It sent shivers down your spine. You two probably only had about ten minutes or so before someone got suspicious and would investigate. The thought made a pool begin in your panties.

His hand went back to where it had previously been prior to the kitchen, two fingers reentering you. You moaned into his shoulder, the soft cotton proving to be quite helpful in muffling your moans. But that didn’t seem to be enough for Bill, he was not looking to be caught early. So his hand came up to your throat, squeezing a little bit. Instead of pain, you felt pleasure. Bill had complete control over you and you loved every second of it.

The first orgasm came soon after that, your moans being stifled by his hand and his shirt. You thought that he would stop so he could have some action of his own, but he didn't. Instead his fingers kept going in and out at an even faster rate. It felt good to ride out your high, but now you were so sensitive to his touch.

“Bill, I’m still pretty sensitive,” you choked out against his shoulder. He just nodded his head and kept going. The dominance he was showing was unlike everything before, and you hated to admit that it was turning you on so much.

His lips attached themselves to your neck, his teeth almost expertly biting in just the right spots to get you closer and closer. You counted all the spots that he reached, but lost count in your second orgasm after seven. You’d have to do a lot of damage control with makeup the next day.

Both of Bill’s hands left your body, and for a moment you thought that he was leaving. You opened your eyes and reached out to him, putting your hands on his shoulders. He wasn’t leaving, he was just taking off his belt and unzipping his pants, quickly getting himself out of his boxers.

It didn’t take long for him to enter you, his pace slow as you adjusted to his length. Despite your past two orgasms, you still felt yourself moaning in pleasure from his actions. His hand went back to your neck, repeating the same squeezing motion every time he would thrust into you. You looked past his shoulder at the clock on the wall, seeing that about eight minutes had passed. You were praying that your friends didn’t find you in this position. 

“Bill,” you breathed out quietly, feeling the same fire in your stomach grow with each thrust. “I think I’m going to-” Your words were cut off by your third orgasm, hitting you like a tidal wave. He kept thrusting into you faster and faster, then finally reached his own peak, his thrusts becoming sloppier as you both rode it down. 

He kissed your forehead, pulling out of you and getting a rag to clean up the mess you two had made. Once you two were moderately clean enough, he redressed and helped you off of the kitchen counter. You semi felt bad, considering you have helped Mrs. Denbrough prepare dinner on this counter many times before and done homework with Bill here too. 

“I would just try not to think about it too much,” Bill said, obviously thinking the same thing that you were. Both of you laughed and hugged, your breathing coming to a safe pace again. 

When you two walked back into the living room, the movie was showing it’s credits. Both of you tried to seem as normal as possible, but it was inevitable that someone would ask something.

“You two said you were going to get popcorn, where is it?” Eddie asked, his eyebrow raising. 

“Yeah, we also didn’t hear the microwave on in there,” Richie added, a smirk plastering his face.

A blush creeped onto Bill’s cheeks and soon your own, realizing that you hadn’t been that quiet and discreet as you two thought. 

[thecrownnet]

[...] The featured music in The Crown season 4 varies in tone massively. For example, episode three includes various pop tracks that parallel Diana's ascent within the Royal Family, however, the subsequent episode includes no pop music whatsoever. After several music-lite episodes during the second half of the series, the musical tone picks up in the penultimate production. Here's every featured song in The Crown season 4.

Episode 1: "Gold Stick" "Jerusalem" by Sir Hubert Parry: The funeral service for Lord Mountbatten begins. Meanwhile, an Irish man reads a report about the Irish Republican Army taking responsibility for the execution, along with the deaths of 18 British soldiers at Warren Point. The man addresses Irish Republicans and states that Lord Mountbatten was the "ultimate symbol" of imperialist oppression. "Jerusalem" ends as Prince Charles begins his speech.

"Call Me" by Blondie: Diana receives a call from Charles, the Prince of Wales. Shortly before, Charles has a brief second meeting with Diana after the death of Lord Mountbatten.

Episode 2: "The Balmoral Test" "Verdi’s La Traviata – Prelude Act 1" by Giuseppe Verdi: Charles and Diana attend the opera together. Diana explains that she adores Verdi because his music is so romantic, and Charles explains that focusing only on the romantic aspects of the work diminishes the composer's legacy and political influence.

"Scotland the Brave": Margaret Thatcher attends a sporting event in Scotland with her husband Denis and The Royal Family. She doesn't find any value in the experience and states that the country needs to change fundamentally, top to bottom.

"Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 in D, BWV 1050: Affetuoso" by Johann Sebastian Bach: After Diana proves herself to the Royal Family at Balmoral, she's followed by the press in London (and seems to enjoy the attention). Meanwhile, Margaret Thatcher attends a government photo session. A new stag head is also placed in a Balmoral dining room.

Episode 3: "Fairytale"

"Upside Down" by Diana Ross: Diana is briefly shown driving in her vehicle.

"Edge of Seventeen" by Stevie Nicks: Diana returns home after getting engaged to Charles and celebrates with her flatmates. The young women drive around the city and party before the main title sequence. An acapella version of the song also plays during the final credits.

"Vienna" by Ultravox: After an awkward Royal Family event, Diana learns about Royal Family rules and etiquette. A brief insert shot shows Diana waking up at 8:30 a.m. and listening to "Vienna."

"Girls on Film" by Duran Duran: Diana receives mail, watches TV, and then roller skates around Buckingham Palace while listening to "Girls on Film." The song drowns out while she looks at paintings and reflects on her new reality.

"Song for Guy" by Elton John: After discovering that Charles had a bracelet made for Camilla, Diana calms herself by dancing and practicing ballet.

"I Vow to Thee, My Country": Charles greets admirers outside a cathedral. Inside, Diana watches while preparing to confront him about a bracelet for "Gladys" (Camilla).

Episode 4: "Favourites"

The Crown "Favourites" doesn't include any featured songs.

Episode 5: "Fagan" "Boys Don't Cry" by The Cure: Michael Fagan lights a cigarette and takes a walk. The scene kicks off a flashback narrative that details his 1982 break-in at Buckingham Palace.

"Monkey Man" by The Specials: Michael Fagan drinks beer at a pub, spot his ex-wife, and threatens her partner. In a transition sequence, Margaret Thatcher arrives at Buckingham Palace to discuss the Falkland Islands conflict with Argentina.

"God Save the Queen": The Royal Family prepares to meet with the public.

"Queen’s Company" by The Band of the Grenadier Guards: The Queen takes the royal salute during her annual birthday celebration.

"Twenty Four Hours" by Joy Division: Michael Fagan smokes a cigarette after a physical altercation with his ex-wife's parter. The moment comes shortly after he breaks into Buckingham Palace for the first time.

"Whine and Grine/Stand Down Margaret" by The English Beat: The song plays over the end credits and an epilogue about Michael Fagan.

Episode 6: "Terra Nullius"

"Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You" by Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons: Charles introduces Diana in Sydney after a rekindling of their romance. The couple later dances at a public event while the paparazzi take photographs. The song plays again during the end credits.

Episode 7: "The Hereditary Principle" "C'est si bon" by Dean Martin: Princess Margaret applies makeup and watches Queen Elizabeth on television.

"Let’s Dance" by David Bowie: Princess Margaret and Dazzle drink and dance together.

"Fallin" by Connie Francis: Princess Margaret goes on vacation after ending her relationship with Dazzle.

Episode 8: "48:1"

"Fite Dem Back" by Linton Kwesi Johnson: South African people dance in the streets while protesting.

"Inglan Is a Bitch" by Linton Kwesi Johnson: The song plays over the end credits.

Episode 9: "Avalanche" "Othello, Act I: Una vela!" by Giuseppe Verdi: Charles celebrates his 37th birthday at the opera with Diana.

"Swan Lake, Pas De Deux (1), Act II" by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky: Diana looks at Charlies inside the opera house.

"Fidelio, Op.72, Act II: Intro and Aria" by Ludwig van Beethoven: A man performs on stage while Diana tells Charles that she needs to powder her nose.

"Uptown Girl" by Billy Joel: Diana joins one of the performers on stage. The song drowns out as Charles gazes at Diana and realizes that she'll once again receive more press than him the following day.

"Crazy Little Thing Called Love" by Queen: Diana, William, and Harry sing together during an anniversary road trip to Highgrove Royal Gardens.

"All I Ask of You" from Phantom of the Opera: As an anniversary gift, Diana plays Charles a VHS tape of her performing in costume on the West End. Charles laters mocks his wife while speaking with Anne.

Episode 10: "War"

"Theme from New York, New York": Diana arrives in New York City and attends a public event.

"Baby, It’s Cold Outside" by Ella Fitzgerald: Charles and Diana attend a holiday event after arguing about their marriage.

"Silent Night": The Royal Family poses for a photograph. The season comes to an end by foreshadowing Diana's tragic fate through a shutter flash.

Martin Phipps composed The Crown season 4 score.

[fanficsfromyesteryear]

PRETTY IN PINK

A STRANGER THINGS ONE SHOT

— PAIRING: Nancy Wheeler x Reader (Platonic) — WORD COUNT: 934 — WARNINGS: Mentions of death — REQUESTED BY: n/a — A/N: I’ve just recently developed an appreciation for Nancy. I feel like she’s a really good friend, despite what happened to Barb in season 1, and we haven’t really had a chance to see that side of her.

You and Nancy Wheeler were never close growing up, but after your mom died, it was her that saw the pain you were in. She knew what it was like to lose someone. She knew what it was like to put on a carefree façade to mask the fact that you were falling apart at the seams. She, of all people, understood.

After the funeral, you stood off to the side as your father interacted with close friends and family who came to offer him their condolences. You stared at the ground, your feet glued to the spot, the sight of your mother’s lifeless body in the casket still engraved in your mind. Your body was numb. None of this felt real. You kept telling yourself that it was just a nightmare, that you would wake up and everything would be fine, but deep down, you knew you were lying to yourself.

“Hey,” came a quiet voice from beside you, and a hand brushed against your arm. You turned your head slightly, tear-stained eyes settling on the concerned face of Nancy. “I’m really sorry about what happened.”

You managed a nod and a small, “Thank you.”

“If you ever need anything, I’m here.”

Those words were strangers to your ears coming from the mouth of Nancy Wheeler. You knew, to an extent, what she had gone through with Barbara—everyone did—but the thought of you and Nancy being friendly with one another was a wild concept. It wasn’t that the two of you weren’t nice people and incapable of getting along, you just ran in different social circles. She had a reputation of being a goody-two-shoes, but she was fairly popular nonetheless. You, on the other hand, weren’t much of a good-anything and considered yourself more of an outcast than anything else. The confusion in your tone was evident when you once again said, “Thank you.”

Similarly, the confusion in Karen’s face was hard to miss when you showed up on the doorstep of the Wheeler home asking for Nancy. When Nancy had told her you were coming over to spend the night, she’d thought it was a joke, yet here you were.

It hadn’t been an easy task convincing your dad to let you go. Ever since your mom died, he’d been extra protective of you. He rarely let you out of his sight save for when it was absolutely necessary. You knew that he was just lonely and afraid of losing you too, but you missed your freedom and the company of another female in the house, so, at long last, he gave in.

“Your friend’s here!” Karen called as she led the way inside. A moment later, footsteps were heard on the stairs and Nancy came into view.

Nancy greeted you with a wide grin. To be perfectly honest, she hadn’t known whether or not you would actually show up—it had only been a week since the funeral, and already she was inviting you to sleep over—but she was glad you did. You needed to get out of the house, to take your mind off of things, and what better way to do that than with what Nancy called, “a girl’s night”?

The inside of Nancy’s room was like something straight out of a doll house. “Wow,” you said, looking around. “It’s so pink.”

Nancy wrinkled her nose. “Let me guess,” she said, glancing down at your clothes. “Your room is solid black?”

“Grey,” you corrected, “but same difference.” You dropped your bag onto the floor. “So, what exactly is a girl’s night?” Your gaze settled on Nancy. Embarrassingly enough, this was your first sleepover. All of your friends were boys, and, well, your parents knew better than to open that can of worms.

Nancy walked over to her bed and plopped down on the edge, patting the place beside her where, a moment later, you were seated. She pulled a shoe box from the top drawer of her nightstand. On the top, written in sparkly, red nail polish were the words, ‘In Case of Emergency.’ With a smile, Nancy pulled back the lid to reveal a plethora of the most girly things you had ever seen—nail polish, mostly in various shades of pinks and purples; all kinds of makeup; a couple of rolled up magazines; fuzzy socks; and to top it all off, a VHS tape of Pretty in Pink.

You raised your eyebrows. Suddenly, you weren’t too sure about this. You spent your time skateboarding and smoked behind the gym between classes. The only nail polish you owned was as dark as typewriter ink.

“Oh, come on,” encouraged Nancy, sensing your hesitancy. “It’ll be fun.”

You had the feeling that your idea of fun was a lot different than Nancy’s, but later that night, after the two of you had changed into your pajamas and were both sporting fresh coats of paint on your nails as you danced around Nancy’s bedroom to Blondie, you realized that you were actually enjoying yourself. You just hated that it took your mother’s passing to realize that the two of you—different as you were—could have a good time. In that moment, you weren’t a couple of high school stereotypes. You were just a couple of girls who had endured horrible things and become close because of it.

Sometime after midnight, you both decided to turn in. Nancy laid under the covers on the brink of drifting off to sleep while you smoked out her bedroom window. “Next time,” you said, turning to her with a small, lopsided grin, “I’m picking the movie.”