#rally was HUGE back when

[andromedasummer]

secondhand bookshops rule so hard esp my fav one in town. there are such specific sections for everything. in the scifi shelves theyve organized things by space sci-fi, sea sci-fi, dystopia etc. there's a paranormal romance section in the romance section. they have 3 shelves longer than i am tall dedicated to the star trek novelizations organized by series and 3 under that dedicated to dragonlance books. i went to look at their craft section and they had subsections for eras and styles of embroidery. i can look for motorsport books by series or manufacturer without coming across top gear books or car manuals, which have their own sections. i can find poetry by nz poets in their own bookcase and books by māori authors all over the shop because they've been marked by a specific tag on the binding.

[teencopandthesourwolf]

“Why did you ask me that?”

“Huh? What's that, big guy?” Stiles mumbles, answering the query with one of his own without looking away from Derek's laptop screen. The laptop Derek kind of bought for Stiles for when Stiles is at the loft.

Whatever. 

There's a ballpoint pen shoved in the kid's mouth—God, that mouth—and another slid behind an ear, the latter ready and waiting for Stiles to click to death in the In Between Typing Times.

The others dispersed a couple of minutes ago. Apart from Derek and Stiles, only Lydia and Deaton now remain at the loft and they're deep in conversation about the preliminary theory of who or what is killing the humans of Beacon Hills this week and are standing at the opposite side of the open-plan space, making more coffee. Scott and Malia left to rally the other ʼwolves (not answering their phones as they're at a cinema screening) plus find and talk to Argent to arrange a pack meeting proper about the situation, so they can all work on devising a plan. Granted, there is Peter to consider—who's probably still lurking somewhere, what with lurking being one of his favourite pastimes—who can obviously hear any and all conversations that are, or could be, happening inside of the building. Sadly though, Derek has never been able to hide much of anything from his uncle.

So. 

He thinks about elaborating on the question he asked Stiles, but can't.

He tries not to stare at Stiles, and fails.

Stiles is squinting at the screen with intent and looking like he has forgotten that Derek said anything at all. Or that Derek is still hovering close by. Or that Derek, you know, exists.

Derek is just standing there, all difficult and awkward in his own fucking home and his own fucking body, looming over Stiles like a creeper as Stiles taps away furiously at the keyboard and violently zig-zags a fingertip across the mousepad like an actual lunatic.

Derek almost laughs at that.

The Boy Who Runs With Wolves.

“Why wouldn't I?” Stiles now asks, still mumbling around the chewed ballpoint Derek is trying not to be jealous of. 

“I—what?” Derek's caught off guard; always and only by Stiles. 

Stiles doesn't skip a beat, unlike Derek's heart. “Why wouldn't I ask?” he adds.

Oh, right.

“I, uh, I don't... ” Derek trails off pathetically, swallowing any confidence he had previously mustered and looking away from Stiles, even though those big, brown devastating eyes aren't actually looking at Derek because they are, of course, still zoomed-in on whichever web page is currently yielding the most information.

Dusk is quickly closing in and all around them and the light filtering through the loft's huge window has begun to dim somewhat, so that the glow of the computer screen is now filling Stiles' eyes with bright, dancing sparks and arrhythmic shapes as they flicker like lightning from one tab to another, then another, then another. And as mesmerising as it is to watch—Stiles looks as though he is brimming with magic—the sight becomes too much for Derek, and looking away feels like his only option.

It doesn't last.

Stiles' long, large-knuckled fingers still their rapid movement just as Derek's eyes find their way back.

Derek watches the kid some more, like a lifeline.

An anchor.

Then, Stiles is taking the pen from those perfect lips as sneaker-toes slowly spin the swivel chair around, so that Stiles is now facing Derek where he stands with arms crossed reactively over his chest.

His heart.

“I asked because I wanted to know if you were okay, man," Stiles divulges, as if that's nothing at all. As if it's something Derek hears often. He tilts his head to catch Derek's eye, which works, of course, because it always works, no matter the nature of the moment they're caught up in. "Like, I was concerned, y`know?” 

Derek feels guilty just for looking. And not only because he wants to touch but because he wants to let Stiles care.

“I care, dude,” Stiles says on cue and Derek tries to self-implode while Stiles waits, probably for Derek to look at him and say don't call me dude and probably hoping not to have his head bitten off or his throat ripped out. 

Derek does look again, just not for long. Barely a glance. He can't afford himself too much Stiles, not when Stiles is looking directly back at him. It's safer that way—self-preservation and all.

“You do know that, right?” Stiles tries again. “That I care.” 

Derek wants to ask Stiles if they can talk, if Derek can tell Stiles things. Derek wants to ask Stiles if he'll stay, and if he'll let Derek spill his secrets, let him tell Stiles everything, like Derek never does with anyone these days, and if Stiles will hold Derek's hand when Derek cries about it, like Derek doesn’t allow himself to anymore. Derek wants to ask Stiles if Derek can touch him and hold him and if Stiles would hold him back, if Stiles would ever want that, if Stiles could ever be his.

“Don't call me dude,” is what he actually says because he can't not. But then he steals himself, head staticky and heart thumping as he dares himself to add (after what is undeniably too-long a pause), “And yeah. Maybe I do.” 

Then they look at each other. They just—look.

They look and look and look.

And they each keep looking at the other for a very long time. Definitely too long for two people supposedly not much more than acquaintances. Allies, maybe. Comrades at tenuous best.

Then they look for longer. Look for more. Look until it starts to feel as if they are the only two people in the room, in the building, in the world.

Whatever happened to self-preservation?

Something is starting to happen, and Derek is pretty sure it's not just happening to him, and he finds he is equally stunned as he is thrilled as he is completely fucking terrified about that. 

Eventually, Stiles says, “Derek, we're friends.��� Then he's licking his lips and looking Derek up and down, shameless, adding—with a nonchalant shrug of one shoulder—“Till we're not.”

The latter part is spoken like a ominous secret, but one without the slightest hint of malice, because that's not how he means it. It's more promise than threat, if Derek is remembering correctly what genuine affirmations sound like (it's been a while).

The sparks from Stiles' eyes are then flashing blue in Derek's and Derek could swear he hears every one of his neurons firing inside of himself, all at once, as each of his mutated cells flare into overdrive, nail beds and gums tingling, the short hairs on the back of his neck and arms and hands standing up on end.

He feels utterly alive.

It's honestly a struggle not to keen and whine like a pup, and Derek has truly never been more happy of the fact that Stiles is unable to scent chemo-signals because, oh, yeah, Derek would be so fucked right now.

He has a reply for Stiles but it's caught in his throat, the sentence forming then solidifying, fast as a quick-drying glue.

Derek is just—standing there. Statuesque. Alternating between trying to swallow his words down and attempting to speak them, like a first class dipshit. Just looking and looking and looking at Stiles.

In an entirely mortifying turn of events, it is actually the sound of Peter's low, mocking chuckle from some tucked-away shadowy place in the loft that is the thing that forces Derek unstuck, and it takes all Derek has to not roll his eyes to the back of his skull and growl out I'm going to kill you again now, Uncle. 

He takes a breath, un-clenches his fists and tries for a smile—or at least a hint of one. He doesn't want to freak the kid out.

Derek then manages to repeat Stiles's words back at him, no more than a whisper.

“Till we're not.”

Stiles is just looking and looking and looking at Derek, before he's asking, “Can I stay for the evening? You can talk to me while I research. I always work better with noise. It'll be soothing,” like he's ordering pizza instead of answering all of Derek's prayers.

Derek notes how the kid's usually erratic eye-contact is weirdly as unwavering as his usually erratic heartbeat, which is now weirdly steady as a metronome.

That's a lot of weird. 

Derek fights the urge to bite into his lip with his fangs. He wants to draw blood, and to taste it.

He embarrassingly feels his eye twitch and his breath hitch as he dares himself to do this. 

He sputters, “What do you want me to talk about?”

Stiles slowly swivels back towards the light of the laptop—ethereal milky skin and dark moles once again luminous in its white-blue glow—at the very same time as the evening's first moonshine peeks through clouds and seeps in through the loft's huge skylight.

Derek is memorised. 

Stiles starts annoyingly clicking away at the Clicking Pen, while shoving the other back between those beautiful lips of his, now mumbling his words around the thing once more and speaking them as if they are the most obvious thing in the universe.

“Everything, Der.”

.

for @poebin for asking <3 (unedited, soz)

[amirasainz]

Hello I am a huge fan of this fanfic your doing, but can I please request, the grid watching a spicy scene of her show? Or her in a body suit type like the picture below? I think Carlos reaction would be funny

Of couse! I had so much fun writing this! My request are OPEN and feedback is always welcome. -XoXo

The unexpected red-flag

The conference room fell into stunned silence as the rain drummed relentlessly against the windows. The TV murmured in the background, its volume turned low, but it was the soft, melodic voice of Amira Sainz that cut through the quiet.

News had spread like wildfire: Baby!Sainz, the beloved sister of Carlos, would grace the third season of the renowned Netflix series “Narcos”. The drivers, usually a rowdy bunch, now sat in hushed anticipation. For Carlos, this was more than just excitement; it was a lifeline. His sister’s return to the family was long overdue, and the chance to witness her artistic brilliance on screen made his heart swell.

Yet, their busy lives as racers left little room for leisure. Days blurred into nights, filled with data analysis and the adrenaline rush of the track. But fate intervened during the red flag at Spa, where the heavens unleashed torrents of rain. The perfect opportunity arose: why not start watching “Narcos” during this unexpected break?

Surprisingly, it was Yuki who suggested it. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he proposed the idea, met with a chorus of enthusiastic “yeah’s” and “omg, yes!” from the other drivers. Carlos and Oscar, absent at the moment, would soon join the impromptu viewing party.

And so, they embarked on their journey into the world of drug cartels, corruption, and intrigue. They skipped scenes where Amira wasn’t present, eager to witness her talent firsthand. But little did they know that the next scene would unravel secrets and twists they never anticipated.

Let's just say Amira Sainz looked good with and without clothes. Throughout her spicy scene, the drivers were so silent. They all looked at her dreamily on the TV when she kissed the guy and started taking of her clothes and-

"¡Eh, estúpidos idiotas! ¿Qué demonios estáis haciendo? ¡¿Por qué demonios estáis viendo a mi hermana desvestirse?!" questioned an angry Carlos. As soon as he saw his little sister on the TV he went into full overprotective big brother mode.

Instantly, Logan shot back, “It’s not what it looks like,” while Fernando chimed in with a soothing “Hermano, you have to calm down.” Meanwhile, Lance attempted diplomacy: “Carlos Boy, we can talk like adults.”

The other drivers rallied, attempting to quell the hot-blooded Spanish driver. But amidst the chaos, Oscar slipped away, drawn by curiosity. He cornered Lando, who was practically bursting with excitement.

“I can’t believe I missed this. How was it?” Oscar leaned in, eager for details.

Lando’s eyes sparkled. “Oscar, you should have heard her speak Spanish. And her hair—oh, her hair falls down her back like—” His words were cut short.

“LANDO NORRIS! STOP TALKING ABOUT MY SISTER, YOU CREEP!” Carlos’s voice thundered across the room, drowning out the rain and the TV.

From the commentator box outside, a muffled sound reached their ears—a high-pitched scream. Lando Norris, usually unflappable on the track, had met his match in Carlos’s protective fury.

[lou-struck]

"Sit Down"

Wakatoshi Ushijima x reader

~Wakatoshi finally gets a chance to play spectator on a date with you at a Professional Women’s Volleyball game, but when he goes to get snacks your once perfect view becomes obstructed.

WC: 1.8k

a/n: I hope reading this brings you joy. Joy was an emotion I was not feeling when being ‘inspired’ to write this.

The lights of the stadium are blinding as a spotlight shines down on the starting lineup for today's match. 

It has taken far too long for Women's Professional Volleyball to gain traction, but now that it has. Wakatoshi Ushijima takes it upon himself to go to games to support not just the hardworking athletes who have put forth thousands upon thousands of hours towards their craft, but to the sport of volleyball itself.

It's been too long since the Olympian has gotten the chance to sit back and watch a game without scouting out his opponent's moves. And the fact that you are right next to him, excitedly spectating, makes everything so much better.

Your eyes are sparkling in wonder as you watch these women play with everything they have. "Wow, did you see that?" You exclaim, clapping excitedly as one of the players sprawls herself over her team's aluminum bench to save the ball. Your cheers get lost in the crowd as you enjoy the stadium's electric atmosphere. 

"That was impressive." he hums in approval as the rest of the point unfolds in a tense rally. You can't help but smile and cheer along with the rest of the stadium as your home team takes the first set. 

With both teams off the court, people begin to get up to use the bathroom or stretch their legs. The happy little giggling behind you captures your attention, and you see an adorable little boy hoisted on his mother's muscular shoulders. His little hands are clutching a huge, soft pretzel that is larger than his head. Cuteness aside, that ginormous pretzel makes your stomach rumble enviously. 

Your gaze is transfixed on the snack as Wakatoshi's soft chuckling rumbles behind you. 

"Would you like one?" 

"No, I don't need one." you sigh, glancing back at the court where the teams are still huddled up strategizing their respective game plans. Climbing the stairs, heading to the concession stands, and waiting in line would take too much time. "I don't want to miss any of the game."

"I didn't ask if you needed one." he states simply, "I asked if you would like one. I would get it for you so you wouldn't miss the game."

"But you would miss it." 

"It's no bother." His large hand lightly touches yours on the armrest as he speaks. "You want something to eat, and I want to get it for you. It won't take long."

His care for you, along with the knowledge that you will soon be getting a soft pretzel, brings a smile to your face. "Alright then, I would love a Pretzel, thank you."

"You're very welcome, y/n," he says, the corner of his lips turned upwards in a satisfied smile before he leans over to kiss the crown of your head. "I'll be right back." His massive frame popping up from the stadium seat. The people in your row politely stand to allow the athlete to pass them by to reach the steps as he disappears. 

A few minutes later, the second set begins. As your team scores the first point of the match, you hear everyone cheering, but you and the people next to you have no idea what is going on since a small group of young men are standing up in the front row, obstructing the view of everyone behind them. 

At first, you think it's unintentional. After all, these guys are in the very front row; there is nothing in front of them that would lead them to stand up for a better view. Wakatoshi's seats may be great, but these guys are in the best seats in the whole stadium. But after a minute of not being able to see anything that is going on on the court, you realize that they don't care that the people behind them can see. They may be in the best seats in the house, but they have collectively decided not to actually use them for their intended purpose.

One guy is wearing a bright red foam cowboy hat for some reason, which is strange because none of the teams playing today have a mascot remotely close to a cowboy…He is double-fisting aluminum bottles of beer, which must've cost a pretty penny, thanks to these stadium prices.

After noticing the way his friends take a few nervous glances back at the crowd that is growing in irritation, you realize that he is the ringleader of this little group. 

If he doesn't sit down, his friends won't either.

Other people are glancing at them and whispering amongst themselves but are not willing to actually say anything to these guys. You don't blame them; anxiety is no joke,

'Do they realize people are behind them?'

'Mom, I can't see anything.'

'Literally the standing section is right over there.'

Upon hearing that last little mutter, you turn your attention to the designated standing zone of the stadium. Here, the space between rows of seats is larger, and everyone, no matter how tall, is able to stand and cheer.

These guys would fit in perfectly there, especially since there are so many open seats in that section. 

No one else is going to say anything. Gathering your courage, you take it upon yourself to ask the group to sit down. Gently, you lean forward and tap the unnaturally sweaty biceps of Cowboy Hat Guy. 

He turns and looks at you with a carefree smirk.

"Hey," you start trying to sound friendly. "Could you guys sit down? The people behind you are having trouble seeing the game."

He laughs in your face, sending a pungent aroma of beer and Takoyaki up your nostrils. 

"Nah, It's all part of the vibes,bro," His friends laugh along with him as he starts to turn around towards the game no one else gets to watch, "if you don't like it, you can just go look at the screen." 

They gesture with their head to the monitor on the side of the stadium wall, away from all the action. Why would you wanna watch the screen of something when there is a live match going on in front of you.

You smile again, this time gritting your teeth in frustration. "Come on guys, there's a lot of people who can't see. You guys have some of the best seats in the house, but if you want to stand, the standing section is right over there."

If they hear you, they don't act like it. Continuing to laugh and joke around with each other. Downing their aluminum beer bottles of Budweiser like there's no tomorrow. Their cheeks and necks flushing red from the liquor. 

"Then maybe you should've gotten some better seats." one of them spits back cockily. 

Dejectedly, you realize that trying to talk to these guys like they are normal, functioning, empathetic human beings is going nowhere. You deflate into your seat with a sigh and turn your eyes toward the screen. You wish you could see what was happening live. But if this is what you have to do to support the team, it will do.

A black-blazered security guard descends down the stadium steps, and you feel a bit of hope. But it is extinguished as he walks past the stands and over to the fence to talk with his colleague. Laughing away, unaware of the little situation in the stands. 

The end of the second set comes too quickly. Although you could barely tell what was going on, you could tell from the lack of cheering in the crowd that your team had lost the second set. Then, frustratingly, the guys from earlier decide to take a seat and relax between the sets. 

Apparently, they do know how a chair works…

A deep pout forms on your lips, and you don't notice Wakatoshi making his way down the aisle until he is right next to you. His muscular arms filled with not just the pretzel you wanted but some of your other favorite snacks and drinks. 

His thick brows furrow when he sees your long face, but then, just as the third set starts up, the group stands again, eliciting a series of grains from the other spectators.

Wakatoshi Ushijima isn't stupid; the minute those guys spring to their feet, he knows what is going on. He turns to you, and you follow the flicker of his gaze toward the troublemakers as if asking your permission to step in.

It only takes a soft nod from you for him to act. Just as you had done, he places a hand on the shoulder of the Cowboy Hat guy. As he pivots in your direction, His smirk is ready to flaunt his pompous nature to the crowd of unwilling spectators as his gaze starts low. But when he realizes that it is not you, it widens as he slowly takes in each and every inch of Ushijima's massive muscular frame. His mustard-dappled mouth gapes open like a fish as he realizes that he is no longer the big fish in this pond. 

"Sit down," your boyfriend says sternly. His heavy-browed glare shot sub-zero pangs of fear down the man's spine. His ruddy cheeks pale from terror-induced sobriety as Wakatoshi continues. "You are making it difficult for the people behind you to see."

"Uhhh." their brows are furrowed in confusion as they try to think of what to say next "Oh, umm- really?"

You roll your eyes. Is this guy really just playing stupid now? No matter, Ushijima's unintended intimidation works like a charm, and the Red Hat guy plops down in his chair as quickly as he can. He even takes off the ridiculous foam hat that has been annoying everyone fourteen rows up. 

His little posse of pals join him in sitting down. It makes you feel relief as you see that the people around you also are relaxing.

"Better?" handing you your soft pretzel and drink. As he sinks down into the plastic backed stadium seat. 

You raise the cup to your lips and take a relaxed sip from your red straw as the game plays on in front of you. "Much better." You lean against his broad shoulder as Wakatoshi gives you one of those warm, small smiles that set the flecks of honey alight in his olive gaze. As you watch the rest of the match with an unobstructed view.

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

[i-yap]

Literally loving ur writing so far Bestie 🥺💙would I be able to req how the batboy would react to a fwb/situationship vibe with reader? Like they have feelings but reader is scared of commitment

Thank youuu! Im gonna be really honest, I don't think a lot of the batboys would be okay with a situationship sort of deal.. and I don't write romantic damian( at least not yet) .

Batboys x reader- Situationship headcanons

Dick grayson-

I can see a teammate or someone he works close with as a detective turns into a night of passion and now both of them cant go back to normal situation .

He says he is okay with it, and prolly keeps up that act for 4-5 months?

I think you would end the situationship. Dick is a really sought-after guy and one night he Is just upset with you about something. So when another girl flirts with him rather than his usual " I'm sorry there's someone else I'm into" line he flirts back. You see red

you either walk away angry/upset or pull him away. He follows you to an alley or a secluded area of the party.

"why are you even upset, you are the one who doesn't want us to be official?" "well that's not because I don't want you, that's because I'm scared of intimacy"

He would be really understanding once you explain your issues and fear of commitment. You guys come up with a better set of guidelines for your arrangement and he sticks to it.

if you want an open relationship, he is down. if you want to be exclusive but not yet in a relationship relationship he would be okay.

But dick does want to get married someday and have kids. So this arrangement wont last for long. he will try his hardest to help you overcome that fear of commitment but if you cant then its gonna end someday. And he makes that clear to you from the start. all cards are on the table always and communication is key and he makes sure no one gets hurt( or at least tries avoiding it as much as he can)

Jason todd

wont do it

maybe a bestfriend turned situationship scenario

you are his sanctuary , his home a safe place to come back to. and after everything he has been through he struggles with so many insecurities and he deserves a domestic life.

the moment he sees you with another guy, even if it just flirting, he is out the door. He already believes no one loves him and now you don't even want to commit to him? is he not enough?

he gets that you have issues and no one understands issues better than him. But he is in so much pain already that its best for the both of you to not get together at all.

even the fact that you from the very start didn't want to commit makes him get all in his head and even if you get ready to commit later on , he wont be able to forget that fact and will keep thinking you'll leave him or he isn't the one

he also reads a lot of classic literature and romance in books is what he wants. the concept of a situationship doesn't make sense to him and he just needs some good old domestic loving.

Tim drake

best at it

you guys are young, he is so busy. he is totally cool with a teenage dirtbagy relationship

lets meet under the bridge , get high and makeout type of shit,

Partners in crime / bestfriends that hookup

he loves it, its perfect for him

there are no expectations no responsibilities, you guys are just what the other needs . no stupid anniversaries and big fancy dinners

tim gives very "eat the rich" vibes so this situationship is another way for him to be a little rebellious .

Very very teenage dirtbag- going to grocery shops at 2am and sitting on the dirty floor trying all 20 types of slushies

spray painting the really big asshole companies buildings, going to huge rallies without having any idea what you are rallying for.

stealing the batmobile and then crashing it

the adrenaline makes you hot and bothered and it leads to more. and once its over you go to a shady Chinese place and tip 200 on a 40 dollar meal.

he gets you, you get him and you don't need labels to show your love to each other. and who needs someone else when you have everything you could want within each other? and then someday when you're ready and if you are ready, you can always make it official. its all up to you two , fuck the labels

[cemeterything]

tbh looking back catholic school was so bonkers like most of the time it was the same as regular school except we had to do prayers every morning and before going on lunch break and before we went home, and in assemblies we sang church hymns instead of whatever you sing at normal school assemblies/rallies (tbh this part was fun because a lot of church hymns do slap). but they made us re-enact the stations of the cross in our final year? and it was a huge very serious deal? like "yeah let's get these eleven year olds to do a historical reenactment of the execution and death of jesus and get mad at them if they don't show enough pain and sorrow about it". also there was a prayer club at lunch breaks and it actually became a trend to attend because you got to bring a rosary and everyone wanted to have the coolest rosary beads compared to their peers. and if you got in trouble you were sent to the quiet room which was full of crosses and statues of saints that stared at you crying and it was super uncomfortable honestly that scene in carrie where carrie gets locked in the closet by her mother pretty accurately sums it up. when we left for high school they gave us all "guardian angels" which were these little angel-shaped badges and told us very seriously that we had to make sure we didn't lose them because they were all that could protect us when we went out into the world. i still have mine even though i abandoned the faith years ago because i'm scared of what'll happen if i don't.

[misguidedasgardian]

I would like you to write a fic with Dark! Cregan Stark x reader

😏

Dark you mean... like this...?

Price of War 

part 2!

Dark!Cregan x Targaryen!Reader

Summary: You are send to the North to rally Cregan Stark to your side, 

Warnings: cursing, misogyny, medieval setting, war, usurpation, smut, loss of virginity, a bit of blood, dub-con (reader feels pressured), coercion, hints of a threesome (mfm), breeding kink, breeding, might miss some warnings 

“your sister will go North!”, said Otto, talking to Aegon and Aemond, Alicent just shook her head

“No, she is the girl, she will not travel the longest distance, it makes no sense!”, Otto just looked at his daughter

“Exactly, she is the girl, Cregan Stark will only answer to soft and innocent words”, he continued. Alicent then looked more scared than before

“You want her to whore herself to that pagan?”, she whined, her mouth twisted downwards 

“If she must”, he said dismissively, Aegon only smiled wickedly, Aemond looked to the floor in front of him, grabbing his hands behind him tightly, controlling himself 

“No…”

“I must go”, the four of them turned to the girl that just entered the chamber, silent like a little mouse, “Grandfather is right, if a marriage alliance will grant us the North, I must try”

“No”, whined Alicent

“Sush mother”, said Aegon, and that surprised even Aemond, “if our little sister wants some northerner cock who are we to stand in her way?”

“You will respect your sister!”, grunted Otto, Alicent just whined, covering her mouth in a horrified glance

“i will offer my hand in marriage, for after the war”, she muttered, with a hopeful smile, trying to ignore her brother, and she looked at her twin, Aemond, she wanted him to be proud of her, “and then I will come back, sooner rather than later, to protect the capital from the blacks”

“Oh my sweet”, Alicent grabbed her daughter and hugged her tightly, caressing her silver hair 

“I’ll be back soon mother”, she offered, and with no time to waste, she grabbed the letter her grandfather had written, and went to get dressed.

She wore the thickest riding gear he had, if it gets cold up there in the skies, the skies of the North would be even colder

She braided her own hair in a single braid

She wanted to do this, she wanted to make her family proud of her, she had to show determination, she had to protect her family, so with a hopeful smile, the kingsguard escorted her to the pit

Aemond wanted to speak to her, but she wouldn’t let her, she would lose her determination if she heard the soft words of her brother, besides, he was supposed to be betrothed also, she couldn’t take the same liberties, not that something ever happened…

Her dragon was waiting for her, happily, it was the only dragon that hatched for her or her siblings, so it was small, like Vermax, Jacaerys’ dragon.

She took to the skies quickly, she wanted to go and come back as soon as she could

She had heard stories about Cregan Stark, that he was young, and honorable, and as a Stark, he was joust and kept his word

He was going to support the King, your brother, or at least that is what you wanted to believe

You smiled hopefully

It took you two days to reach the capital of the North, and you knew when you got there because it was magnificent

It was a huge castle that looked like it had been there for a thousand years, and was going to be there far after you are gone as well.

The snowy mountains, the frozen lakes

It was beautiful 

Your dragon landed heavily on the snow, and when you touched the snowy ground, you heard another growl, you looked up to thee your nephew’s green beast, growling and snapping. Your dragoness growled back. You let them smell and growl at each other, without a rider to command them, they wouldn’t attack

 You were received by a soldier who after hearing your introductions, guided you inside the huge fortress, unimpressed and weary. The castle was huge, but you had no time to look at it, as you followed the men with fast feet. They led you to the great hall, it was filled with people, lords and ladies, but there, in the center of it all, you couldn’t miss him, stood a twenty five years old Cregan Stark.

“Princess (Y/N) of House Targaryen, daughter to the dowager Queen Alicent HIghtower”, and sister to the new King, you thought.

Everything went quiet, and all of them them walked away from you, to give you a huge space, for now there was nothing between you and the guardian of the North 

“Lord Stark”, he was an impressive man, dressed in wolf furs, his face serious to be so young, his eyes a piercing blue, his hair a dark brown, a strong beard on his chin and jaw

“Princes”, immediately you saw Jace, standing a few feet away from the Lord

“Jacaerys”, you greeted, and you wanted to smile, you liked Jace, but unfortunately, now you were enemies, he looked at you with a mean frown, you tried to clear your throat, your eyes to the ones of the big Wolf, sitting on the Northerner throne

“My Lord”, you said, “I bring word from my brother, the King”

“The King?”, he asked, Jace smirked, “forgive me, princess, because I believed Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen was supposed to sit the Iron Throne after her father, King Viserys”, he said, you paled, you got here too late, but still, he stood up from his throne and walked towards you, taking the scroll from your hand, he read it hastily, not before giving you a last heavy look, to then turn to the paper 

“I see” he whispered, looking back at you, he then looked at Jace, “my allegiance and my swords, for you”, he said smirking

You don’t know how long Jace had been in here, you guessed it couldn’t be that long, but the way that they looked at each other, it seemed like they had formed some sort of friendship, that they were in an alliance together, leaving you out in the cold

It was too late 

“Why would I support your brother’s claim?”, he asked then, sitting himself again, “My father sworn allegiance to the Queen, and you must know, Stark’s words mean something”, he said, “unlike the words of Hightowers and Lannisters”, you swallow thickly, but you couldn’t rid of the knot in your throat 

“The Queen was there, in the last moments with the king…”, you said, unconvinced, “she heard him muster his last words, that he desired Aegon to seat the Iron Throne after him”

“Lies”, said Jace

“So the only one there, to testify, is your mother”, he said, unimpressed, it sounded bad, it did, very convenient, but you knew your mother, and she wouldn’t lie with something like that… she wouldn’t, she was to good, too pius, you heard the lords and ladies snickering

You felt his deep gaze on you

It was true what they said, you believed, the Starks were more wolf than men, he looked like he wanted to eat you, you felt a lightning bolt traveling down your back, you started playing with your fingers, you were so cold and nervous 

You missed the way Jacaerys and Cregan smirked at each other 

“Clear the room, leave us”, commanded Cregan, and in seconds, the rooms as empty, even Jacaerys had left, only then you dared to look up at him

“Say it again”, he demanded, “why would I accept your brother’s claim?”, he asked

“He is the King’s first born son”, it was a justification, but it sounded like a question. He stood up front he throne, making you jump, he walked slowly, circling you, like a hunter

“They offered you up to the wolf uh?”, he asked

“Yes”, you said shakily, feeling his hot breath in the back of your neck 

“Show me how much you are willing to give for me to support your brother”, he whispered huskily

“What?”, you asked, looking at him, “I don’t understand”, he grabbed you by the hips and draw you back to him, now your back was to his chest, his mouth lingered over the side of your face 

“I am in need of a wife”, he purred, you felt like your heart beating so strong you believed he could hear it 

“But… would you support my brother?”, you asked, so nervous, you knew this was wrong, but you had to do something, or else, you would lost the North

“You’ll have to earn it…”

“How?”, you asked, when his big hand traveled from your hip, to your belly to one of your breasts, making you whimper

You whimpered, hiding your moans on the sheets underneath, but Cregan grabbed your by the hair roughly and made you crane your neck back

“I want to hear you”, he growled, pounding into you, over and over, “as I breed you”

“You already did”, you whined grabbing onto the sheet

This was wrong

You were not married 

And yet Cregan was cumming inside of you yet again, the dirty, squelching noises resounded over the room, your cunt, creamy and weeping, dripping the Stark’s seed, and yet he didn’t tired, you had been at it for hours

It hurt

Not much as it did when it started, when he took you for the first time, making you bleed, stealing your maidenhead, but now you were sore and tired, he hadn't stop 

“Cregan please”, you whined, you reached back, managed to grab his side, “I’m so full, I’m tired and sore”, you cried

But it felt so so good

“I have to teach you a lesson”, he growled, grabbing you greedily, he had you face down on the bed, your thighs bend, giving him complete access to you, “coming here, thinking a Stark’s word is feeble and weak, that we forget”, you cried out, his big cock reached a spot inside of you that made your eyes roll to the back of your head, “The North remembers little one, you are traitors and usurpers”

“I-I’m sorry”, you babbled, your thoughts, because of the pleasure, melted in a cloud, “I didn't mean it”

“You only wanted this, didn’t you? whoring yourself, searching for a real man for a husband”

“Mmm”

“Answer me little dragon”, he whispered teasingly, his hot open mouth in your cheek, you felt his teeth teasing your skin, threatening to bite you

“Yes”, you said barely

“I will marry you, you will stay here with your dragon like the good lady wife you are”, he growled, “they won’t take you back, with my seed dripping down your thighs, you will marry me won’t you? you will give me many children?”

“Yes”, you accepted your fate, closing your eyes and feeling his thick, fat cock pumping you full of his cum again, it felt so good

He was finally over, after hours and hours, he dropped himself to the bed right next to you, he grabbed you a bit rough, but accommodate you by his side

His fingers caressed your shoulder, then your back, then your bump, and then

You whined pitifully when you felt his thick fingers entering your creamy pussy, his seed mixed with your cum…

“So full of me, so good”, he purred, “You will stay here and bear children won’t you?”, he continued, “you have to eliminate from your pretty little head thoughts about war and alliances, the only thing in your mind from now on will be to take care of my child, and bare me more, is that understood?”, you nodded, “you are usurpers and traitors, so you will have to work hard for us to forgive you, won’t you?”, you looked at him even is it was a question he wasn’t really asking, you barely nodded, as his finger continued to play with you, “answer me little dragon”

“Yes Cregan”

“My lord, I’m your lord now”

“Yes My Lord” 

Then the door of his chambers opened, you jumped trying to cover your nakedness, but Cregan prevented you

Jace entered the room, with a wide smile on his face

“Our dragons are mating, isn’t that appropriate?”, he teased

“Jace?” you looked back at Cregan who was smirking, “what are you doing here?”

“Your family usurped my mother’s throne, I think you have to make us up for it”, he teased. YOu whimpered, looking at him wide eyed 

You watched the Northerner army march south, from the Lord of Winterfell’s rooms, against your family, you were so worried tears welled in your eyes, as you touched your five moons old baby bump

More notes: Well, technically he didn’t promise her anything hehe, I don’t know if it was THAT dark, but even though we haven’t met Cregan yet, I can’t picture him being cruel and very dark with a lady… anyways… hope you liked it noonie! ❤️

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Salt Mushroom

Debut: Super Mario Galaxy 3

Everybody remembers when Super Mario Galaxy 3 launched worldwide for the Wii's immensely popular successor, the Nintendo Wii Too, blowing all of our collective minds with its flawless combination of the inviting and memorable atmosphere of the first entry in the series with the incredible 3D platforming of its immediate predecessor. But let's be honest, we've all seen Super Mario Galaxy 3 at the top of enough "Greatest Games of All Time" listicles by now. Today we're going to take a much more focused look at just one element which helped to make Galaxy 3 one of the greatest 3D platformers of all time, and one which hardly warrants such a lengthy introduction: the Salt Mushroom!

This item first appears somewhat late in the game, in the Briny Mine Galaxy mission Salt Mario Finds the Cure. You land on a small planetoid with some Gearmos who explain to you that the mine's been overrun with weird monsters! With a boost from a Launch Star, you propel yourself into a pipe, which takes you straight into the depths of the Briny Mine itself.

Sure enough, there's weird monsters all over the place! Excargot, to be precise! These heavily armored, tank-treaded snail creatures try to charge at Mario, leaving trails of slippery slime everywhere! But jump out of the way, and they'll go flying into the wall, causing the shell-like armor on their backs to shutter open, exposing the slimy pink skin inside. What's that? Why haven't I included an image of Excargot, an extraordinarily weird Mario enemy? Well, I mean, we've all seen it. It would be pretty redundant to show a picture, then, wouldn't it? Hm? Now you want to know why I've explained everything in such gratuitous detail thus far? I think you need to keep your voice down.

Anyway, if you try to attack this glaring weak spot with a stomp or a spin, Mario simply bounces off! Clearly, a power-up is in order. Collect the nearby ? Coin to summon the Salt Mushroom, and collect it to become...

Salt Mario!!! With his newfound powers of star-spin-propelled salt-flinging, Mario can handily defeat the Excargot, and even walk with ease across their slime (and even across ice later on in the ever-iconic Slick Street Galaxy). But that's not all! The more time Mario spends as Salt Mario, the more his Hydration Meter decreases! His movement gradually becomes more sluggish, his jump height becoming shorter and weaker, all the while delivering his voice lines with that trademark Salt Mario hoarseness, and loudly rasping his parched lips when left idle, desperately pleading for water.

Of course, we all know that there is no water anywhere in the two levels where the Salt Mushroom is found, and we all know the grisly fate that awaits our plucky plumber when his Hydration Meter finally runs out. We've all seen it! Dozens of times! Hundreds, even! I think I speak for everyone when I say I could watch it happen forever and ever, and never stop laughing!

Needless to say, Salt Mario was a huge hit with fans, and Miyamoto has even cited the Salt Mushroom as his all-time favorite power-up. Some could say the Salt Mushroom has eclipsed even Mario himself in popularity, and many consider it to be the new face of the franchise! I mean, it's a hard claim to deny when we're three entries deep in the Salt Mushroom Rally series (yes, I'm counting Salt Mushroom Rally: Alkaline Abscondence as a discrete title from Salt Mushroom Rally: Alkaline Abscondence Deluxe, I'm not arguing with you about this). And with that, much like Mario's Hydration Meter, my material has finally run dry. You know what Mario would say in this situation? Of course you do! Say it with me, everybody! "HHHHHKKH, KHKKHHHHHHHHH, HHHHKKKKHKK!!!"

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Could you do "you always see the good in people, even me" with Remus Lupin? 🥹

This has taken me a hot second but please just consider it a late birthday gift!!

There’s something about spending time with your friends that makes a strange ache form in your chest, an opening so big it’s shocking that there’s no physical mark. Everything always looks so easy, so effortless for them, all smiling and laughing and snapping pictures, that you can’t help but feel like dead weight. You’re spending a week in a huge house with your wonderful friends in a beautiful location, but you can’t seem to ignore the chasm in your chest.

“Are we having that rematch tonight?” James asks once everyone’s finished their meals, empty plates and full bellies all around the outdoor table, a pack of playing cards in his hand. There’s a sour taste in the back of your throat, the creeping of bile and impending doom because for some reason you just can’t be around them anymore, can’t stomach another late night watching everyone laugh and talk and have a wonderful time while you wonder about how long it will take them to realize they don’t want you around anymore.

“I think I’ll turn in for the night,” you say as you stand, chair scraping against the stone of the patio as you reach for everyone’s empty plates, desperate to seem useful somehow. There’s a rally of protest, but you can’t seem to convince yourself it’s genuine, so you plaster on a smile and keep making your way inside.

You make quick work of the dishes, thankful that they’re mostly clear anyway, and you hurry upstairs before you can hear their rambunctious laughter and tears well in your eyes. You’re almost in your little room at the end of the hallway when you hear the glass door to the patio slide open and close, but you brush it off as someone needing to use the bathroom, so you open the door to your room anyway.

It’s small, just a twin bed and a dresser and a little nightstand, sparsely decorated but perfectly cozy, with a bathroom that connects you to the room being shared by Marlene and Mary. You’d never dream of complaining, not when it perfectly suits your needs and you’re so thankful to even be included, and especially not when Sirius let it slip that Remus had agonized over room assignments for weeks, desperate for everyone to be happy.

Rifling through your luggage, you pull out a worn hoodie to warm you against the blasting of the air conditioning, and you’ve barely pulled it over your head when there’s a gentle knock at your door. You rush over and pull it open to reveal Remus standing on the other side. His cheeks and nose are red, a reminder of all the days in the last week that have been spent out in the sun, and even his hair has gotten a little lighter, a little fluffier, in the warmer, sunnier months.

“I figured I should come check on you, I know we can be a lot to handle, all day every day with no escape,” he says with a little chuckle, slightly awkward as he rocks back and forth on the heels of his feet. While not shy or reserved by the standards of typical society, Sirius and James back him seem like a church mouse, but you find him positively charming. You’d quite like to spend all day every day with him, but there’s no way you’d ever say that, especially not in these circumstances.

“No, no, everyone’s great!” It’s the truth, but you’re sure you sound overeager, desperate to get an invite back the next time they take a trip or even simply hang out together, “I just get tired easily.”

“Me too,” Remus tells you with that gentle smile you love so much, the one that seems almost involuntarily, as if he can’t help but to smile. Having it directed at you almost makes your heart stop.

Its silent, just the buzzing of the air conditioner and the carrying sounds of an energetic game of cards continuing on the back porch. The two of you just stare at each other, and typically you’d feel self conscious, but you’re too busy trying to commit every detail of Remus’s face to memory, every dip and curve and scar. You wonder if he’s doing the same to you.

The moment breaks when Remus gives a huff, a noise that sounds self-deprecating even when there’s no context to it. You make a questioning sound back, still too distracted by the depths of his eyes to form a real sentence to ask what’s wrong. Luckily, he seems to understand exactly what you mean.

“You always see the good in people, even me,” he says, voice soft as honey, and you wonder what would make him think of this out of the blue, if this is his polite way of telling you to stop staring. You don’t get the chance to ask him what he means, why he was thinking that, because you hear the back door slide open and a stream of voices filter into the house, playfully arguing and breaking the gentle peace that had settled over the house in their absence. Remus goes to join them and you follow, feeling a bit like a nervous dog until he smiles at you over his shoulder, giving you yet another thing to turn over in your mind as you try and sleep, trying to piece together the meaning behind all his words and actions, desperate to figure him out.

[c-rowlesdraws]

browsing twitter for longer than a few minutes gives me radiation poisoning these days, and it’s worse in the evening, in the hours when the dark feelings creep in anyway. So even though I’m really apprehensive to talk politics on my art blog (I mean, if the backlash to a hyperbolic post I made about a famous youtuber is this bad, posting about politics would turn my activity page into a window to hell), I have to vent some of my feelings or that radiation damage will just keep getting quietly worse. And a fair number of people read this blog, and seem to like things that I create and say, so for what it’s worth, I want to say some things I hope people will think about.

Someone I really admire tweeted recently about how hopeless they feel. They said that after many years of fighting for social change, they had no fight left. They said they were too exhausted to vote in the upcoming US presidential election. And I tried to understand where they were coming from, because this is someone I look up to. But I can’t. I understand feeling burnt out. I feel nauseous and heartbroken and scared, thinking about the situation in Palestine and the situation in my country. I understand that it seems like there is no good leader to rally behind.

But I can’t tap out. I can’t give in to hopelessness and say, “I can’t choose. I’m tired and I’m done”. When a choice is between maintenance of an imperfect society with incremental steps towards better things, and cranking human misery and suffering enthusiastically up to 11, I’m going with the former. We are all tired every day. But voting is not physically difficult. Even if you are tired, you can do it. There is a day where you go to a building, and you fill in a bubble next to a name, and you go home. They even give you a sticker. I said voting isn’t hard, but actually, it’s very important to say that for a lot of people in the US, voting is hard to access, and for some groups, impossible. It is made difficult on purpose, by people—Republicans, it’s fucking always them, I don’t know why I’m using vague language—who want to disenfranchise as many people as they can. If voting was really a useless gesture, if it really meant nothing— they wouldn’t be working so damn hard to stop poor people and immigrants and prisoners and folks in general from being able to do it.

If you hate Biden, god, fine, whatever. But he is going to be the nominee of the political party made up of judges and politicians that, for the most part, believe that climate change is real and ought to be mitigated, that the US should not be turned into an evangelical christian theocracy, that firearms should be regulated, that businesses should be regulated, that healthcare should be more affordable and accessible, that people should be able to get safe abortions, that trans and all lgbt people deserve to live their lives, and that asylum-seekers shouldn’t be shredded by concertina wire trying to cross the border. The wheel of social change is huge and fucking heavy and sometimes it looks like it isn’t moving at all. But we can feel it move if we all push together.

I caught a Trump ad on the radio the other day and it was some of the scariest shit. “Trump will bring order to chaos,” it said. “He will ban travel from terrorist countries, and end the disastrous open-border policies allowing illegal migrants and deadly drugs like fentanyl to flood into our country.” The fucking anti-muslim travel ban. It’s back, baby. That was the exact phrasing: terrorist countries. If Biden’s foreign policy with regards to the Middle East is frustrating and despair-inducing already, Trump’s would be a catastrophe. The Republicans think Democrats are soft on terrorism. As much as anyone with a conscience is horrified by the US’s continued passivity with regards to Palestine, this motherfucker getting back in office would bring greater horror. I’m really sure about it. I don’t know what that part of the world will look like next fall, but I’m confident that if this dumb bloodthirsty motherfucker regains office, there would be absolutely no hope of public pressure swaying US foreign policy towards “less murder”. Protesting against war and genocide or for any progressive or civil rights cause would become even more dangerous. I still think about the woman who was run over by a car at the protest in 2017

…I’m rambling. I can’t help it. But I don’t want to just ramble unproductively. I should end this with something I hope makes sense to people snd can’t be easily dismissed, even if you already disagree with something I’ve said. I want to say how I genuinely feel.

I believe that imperfect activism is valuable, because it is better to show up and stand in solidarity with other people fighting for a more just world than to not show up at all. I believe all activism is in some way imperfect, because activists are people, and people are imperfect. That is to say, one middle-aged woman who showed up to a DC protest wearing a hand-crocheted pink pussy hat, who maybe hadn’t been to many (or any) protests before but who felt fired up about this one, was worth ten of the smug “real leftists” sneering about her on twitter. Maybe more than ten. Your own activism will be imperfect. But keep an open mind— to your own learning and to others’. Doing “the bare minimum” (and, ugh, what a discouraging phrase) is still doing. We have to encourage everyone who feels drawn to fighting for social good. We have to link arms with one another and be strong. Even if you think the person next to you is a lame-o liberal, if they believe that (for example) trans people deserve access to gender-affirming care and should not be smashed flat into fruit-by-the-foot and sent straight to hell, they are your comrade.

Be wary of people who self-identify as Cassandras and unheeded prophets, especially if their messages consistently emphasize how everything is garbage and the world can’t be saved. If someone is telling you that only they understand how uniquely horrible things are, that no progressive or leftist political philosophy is viable except for the specific one they adhere to, that no news or media sources are worthwhile or even trustworthy except for the small handful of ones they endorse… I won’t say to stop listening to them or following them, but I’d recommend listening to other people, too.

Do your own reading about issues that are important to you. Read many people’s words, watch videos, think about what you believe, and how those beliefs have changed over time, and stay open to being further changed. We are all constantly learning and shaping ourselves, and teaching, and being shaped by others. All of us are tired. But we can hold each other up.

I don’t have a rousing call to action. Just the same things many people are already saying that I’ve felt encouraged by, in a grim sort of way: protest and donate when and where you can, support political candidates on the local and national stage who do support policies you agree with, who could do real good. It feels very hard right now to be hopeful. But we all have to live in whatever future comes eventually— so I think we have to still participate, and that means things like voting. We are all tired. But we have to keep going. There is, ultimately, no sitting out. People who opt out of voting still must live under the social climate and policies imposed by the person who gets elected, and who they endorse and empower and appoint, and who those people empower and appoint, and so on.

This post doesn’t have a good conclusion. I didn’t write it thinking about what would make for a satisfying structure in general. But if you read it, then thank you for reading.

[earthstellar]

Miko and Holding a Grudge: Storytime is Learning Time

I was thinking about how in the final episode of TFP, Miko uses the "I'm going to beat your ass" armour to punch Knockout clean across the face

Miko punches him so quickly and efficiently that I genuinely could not get a screenshot of the impact moment. lmao

And there are a lot of good reasons for her to want to slap this twink into the stratosphere, but I was thinking about any specific grudges Miko might have personally against Knockout to help fuel that punch

Because typically Miko goes in with a sort of "I learned this by watching WWE with Bulkhead and I'm excited to hurt you" tiny human wrecker energy and is naturally hyped, so she tends to go in with a slightly showy approach to delivering a beatdown, which makes sense.

We know she watches stuff like monster truck rallies with Bulkhead, and we know she's watched Bulkhead and Wheeljack pretty closely, and this has had an impact on her developing her personal fighting style: High energy, maybe a couple attempts at some kind of signature moves. she's learned from TV shows and watching actual factional alien warfare play out in the Nevada desert. Shit's wild, and so is she.

But when she punches Knockout, it's a totally silent, quick, efficient hit-- which is pretty different to how Miko usually approaches "the smackdown".

Sure, part of it is because Knockout is sort of ruining a huge moment for the Autobots by quipping at a particularly annoying moment to do so, and she probably just wants him to shut the fuck up as quickly as possible so they can all get back to enjoying watching the revitalisation of Cybertron.

And they're all probably a bit tired from even managing to get to this point.

But then I remembered:

In the episode Flying Mind, Miko and Raf help Fowler off the Nemesis after he's been incapacitated.

But Jack stays behind, and when Knockout snaps out of Trypticon's stasis, he attempts to power drill through Jack's head/upper torso.

Ratchet comes through the ground bridge and punches Knockout, in the same way Miko punches Knockout in the series finale. One hit, and we're done here.

(Sorry for the crunchy quality screenshot, my internet connection is a bit crunchy itself at the moment lmao)

Now, Miko wasn't there to witness this, but we know Miko frequently asks the others to tell her about anything she misses, either because she's been asked to stay home or because things kicked off when she was otherwise not around. She likes to hear battle stories. She's actively jealous of the others when they get to go deal with cool shit and she can't for various reasons.

So we can assume that she asked Jack what happened, or perhaps Ratchet briefed everyone once the other Autobots were revived from temporary stasis, and she would have been present for that in the base.

Miko holds a grudge. There is an entire episode where her and Wheeljack essentially go on an ill-advised revenge mission after Bulkhead is injured. She operates on that mafia level shit, wanting revenge so badly that she essentially withholds information from Wheeljack until he agrees to let her tag along.

And while she learned from that experience, it does hint at the type of mindset she has-- Don't fuck with her friends, or she will very much hold onto that anger until she gets the chance to act on it.

When she punches Knockout, it's a quick, clean punch. Which makes sense contextually for that scene, she's not going to haul completely off on him in that moment.

But it also echoes how Ratchet dealt with him when Knockout was threatening Jack, and that seems like the kind of detail Miko would remember after having it described to her.

She has a bit of a vengeful streak, and even though she does learn not to act on desires for revenge, she's still a kid and god she loves fighting so much, and there is no way she forgot about that one time Knockout tried to kill her friend with a fucking drill-- Even if she didn't get to witness it, it's likely she was told about it in some way, and she's been holding onto that for a while.

So I just really like that her punching Knockout is a mirror of when Ratchet punched Knockout previously, because we know she's very good at paying attention to detail when it comes to fighting, and we know that she learns from observation and from listening to battle stories.

It makes a lot of sense if she just recognised Knockout as being that one bot who nearly killed Jack and remembered how Jack likely described the incident to her later (or may have gotten details from any debriefing Ratchet may have provided at the base), and in that moment recalled that Ratchet took him down in one hit, so she should probably just do the same.

It's quick, it worked before on this exact bot, it'll probably work again.

Miko does learn. She very much holds a grudge. And I like that even though her actions in the finale make sense even without the possible background connection to a prior episode, it does perfectly make sense either way.

You know she begged Jack for all the details later, and you know she committed that shit to memory.

If Ratchet can knock out Knockout, so can she.

And she's not having their victory moment fucked up by some dude who seriously put them in danger on many previous occasions, even if he came around to the "winning team" in the end.

anyway you just know Miko is a mascot for the Wreckers later on, like there's no way Wheeljack and/or Bulkhead doesn't custom paint the side of a ship at some point like a WW2 aircraft lmao but it's just a painting of Miko laughing maniacally while punching a boulder or something

[rainbowsky]

GG and the Duomo di Milano

Duomo 2019 (left), 2023 (right) and 2024 (top).

He has posted a photo of it whenever he goes to Milan, since his first trip there in 2019. Here's my CPN on that.

Fake, fan fiction, CPN.

Of course, as an artist and a photographer it makes sense that GG is interested in this beautiful building. Gorgeous intricate architecture that is covered in lifelike statues, no doubt it is very satisfying to photograph. It's truly one of the most stunning cathedrals in the world. But we're turtles, so we're always going to look at things from a slightly different angle.

This CPN first came up back in 2019, the first time he went to Milan. GG said in an interview that he was excited to see the cathedral, and he posted a picture of it on his Weibo account. Turtles at the time speculated that GG was inspired by the photos that were all over the news in 2016, when same sex marriage was legalized there.

It was the location of massive LGBTQ rallies when same sex marriage was being debated and put to a vote, and was the site of equally massive celebrations when that vote won.

Some people are skeptical of this connection because they feel that the time gap of a couple years is too large for it to be relevant, but to me those people can't possibly understand how significant the same sex marriage fight is to queer people who wish to marry (and who wish to have their human rights recognized in general).

Especially around that time in history, when the fight was at its most active globally. There was a period of a few years where the issue was constantly in the news, as more and more countries were gradually recognizing legal rights for same sex couples. Images of those protests and celebrations were inspiring and exciting for queer people all over the world, and those who cared a lot about the issue followed that news pretty closely.

This is an issue of significance to queer people everywhere, even those who don't want to marry. It represents a shift toward acceptance and toward broader legal recognition of equal human rights for queer people.

Same sex marriage is a huge hurdle toward equality for anyone whose rights are at stake, because most of the opposition to human rights for queer people tends to come from religious groups and conservatives with narrow notions of 'family values'. When societies acknowledge - even on paper - that queer families are legitimate, the biggest barrier has been crossed.

Based on a lot of things I've seen from GG over the years I believe he's very deeply invested in Pride and gay rights. He's not at liberty to be as open about it as he'd like to be, but I believe he shows what he can. I have talked about that in more detail in this post.

I also believe that marriage is something that both GG and DD care a lot about. They are each others anchors in life, and even when they don't get to spend a lot of time together, they are home to each other. DD has also talked about wanting a son, and GG has also shown interest in children and family and often talks about a simple life.

They just ooze domesticity on many levels, and I think that even if it doesn't fit within their lives right now, they probably talk about and think about building a family together one day. And given the culture in China their parents likely want that for them as well.

I talked about the possibility they might already be married in this post. I talked about the possibility of them wanting kids in this post about DD saying he wanted a son, and later in this one from an OOL interview where GG mentioned envying Gu Wei's life.

Both GG and DD strike me as being connected to queer culture, just given some of their jokes, attitudes, etc. and some of the people they're associated with. Even their experience with filming CQL (which I talked about in this post). They're also both from the younger generation in China, which is much more progressive and informed on these issues.

All of this leads me to believe that it's not an accident that this landmark has captured GG's imagination.

The Duomo is also a very popular wedding/romantic photo destination, and where couples often propose.

I think that it's romantic that GG posted the moon over the cathedral this time. There are a lot of fake rumors and CPN around GG and DD and the moon, and turtles believe that they often send pictures of the moon to each other. They've both posted photos of the moon on social media in the past.

There have been a lot of posts about their connection with the moon over the years. A few of my favorites are Pie's post from Mid-Autumn Festival, Pie's post about Midsummer Moon (among other things) and of course the LRLG rumor that talks about DD taking pictures of the moon for GG.

Given what this landmark might mean to GG, it makes this photo even more special.

Or he could just enjoy photographing a pretty building. We'll likely never know for sure.

[some-thirst-here]

Pretty shy

Leo x Reader

There was always something good about the acoustics in the gym. Which is why you like sneaking away to sing after school, when there isn't any sporting practice of any kind. You waste no time in slinging your backpack down on the bleachers. You start pulling homework out and singing along to the song coming through your headphones.

"My names Noel. In gym class I mostly duck, and I kinda smell. Puberty really sucks. I like this one guy but he's pretty shy."

You belt out the song while moving around gently to the beat. The next part of the song is louder and you raise your voice to match it.

"He doesn't know who I am, and he doesn't give a damn about me. Because I'm just a teenage dirtbag baby."

Bumping into someone behind you knocks you out of the cosy little world you were just in. Heat crawls up your neck as you turn to see who. It's not one, but four guys you have never talked to. The heroes from the news. Your heart drops into your stomach.

The one in blue reaches a hand out to you, while opening his mouth to speak. Without thinking you flinch back and immediately start cramming the homework right back into the backpack. Throwing your backpack over your shoulder, you bolt. Tripping over your own feet as you run out the doors. You don't see the dejected look on the turtles face.

A moment after April walks up to the guys. "What was even that?" She can't help but ask.

Raph snorts. "They took one look at nardo here and ran." Raph pats Leo's shoulder. "It must be hard being that ugly bro." Leo promptly smacks his hand away.

April frowns, not liking that answer.

*****

For the next few weeks you make yourself scarce. The only glimpse anyone can get of you is the back of your head. You're determined to stay far away from the turtles. It was working pretty well. Unfortunately for you today is a pep rally in the gym.

The whole school is packed in the gym. So many people everywhere. Luckily your headphones do block some of the noise. You decide to sneak up to the top of the bleachers. While squeezing your way up someone knocks into you. The momentum makes you lose your balance. Your backpack is not helping as the weight helps pull you over the guard rail.

A surprised gasp leaves you as you tumble over. Your headphones hit the ground first. Squeezing your eyes closed you try to brace for impact. The sound of sneakers scuffing the floor is all you hear before you land.

"Hey, I've got you. Are you ok?" A voice very close to you asks. It takes a moment for you to open your eyes. You realize the turtle in blue has caught you bride style. He gives you a nervous smile waiting for you to speak.

"Your eyes are brown." You say without thinking. He blinks in confusion. Your heart thunders in your chest. Why did you say that?

You are once again scrambling up and out of the gym. The first thing you do is run and hide in the bathroom. After closing the door, it swings right back open and smacks against the wall. You nearly jump out of your skin. April O'Neil herself is marching up to you. You very visibly gulp. She backs you up to the wall.

"What was that? Do you have some problem with mutants or something?" April asks, clearly annoyed.

"Wh-what? That's not-." Your eyes widen as you try to reply. April raises an eyebrow.

"Well, what is your problem then?" She asks curious. You sigh, your shoulders sagging.

"I just... They saved a whole city. But every time they see me, I look like an idiot." You finally admit. You run a hand down your face. April's eyes widen. Her annoyance dissolving.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it. You should try actually talking to them. They're all kind of huge dorks." April gives you a small smile. Thoughts of bacon, egg, and cheese fill April's head. You rub the back of your neck.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." You mutter. April ignores your protest and grabs your hand to pull you along.

"Well, I mean Leo did just save you from a potentially broken neck, so I think the least you can do is say thank you."

"Oh ,um, right." Heat creeps back up your neck. You don't have to go far as Leo is waiting outside the bathroom. April officially introduces the two of you.

"You dropped these." Leo says holding up your missing headphones. A bright smile spreads across your face.

"Thank you." You say. Leo gently places them into your hands. You pull the headphones around your neck.

"Thanks for catching me too." You say softly looking away from Leo's face.

"Yeah, no problem. It was nothing. Not that you're nothing, you're totally something. It was just easy..to do." Leo rubs the back of his neck. Why did he say it like that?

You can't help, but smile at his rambling. Maybe it wasn't going to be so hard to get along with them.

[bettyfrommars]

I'm on Fire//biker!older!Eddie x fem!artist!Reader//biker!Steve//90's au//Part 10

🚨18+Only, smut, oral (m receiving), talk of erection, size kink, swallowing, biker gang, biker!Eddie, biker!Steve, talk of drug use, threats, talk of violence, financial trouble, mention of jail, smoking cigarettes, alcohol consumption, trouble at home, co-parents!Stobin, suggested custody issues, angst, underlying fear of retaliation. Word count: 8.7k

This is mostly just a sweet lil chapter to heal some wounds, right before some old wounds start opening.

Series Masterlist

A/N: I tried to make this part completely void of angst, but alas, I did not succeed. I'm working on a summertime one shot idea for the boys to go to a bike rally with all of the shenanigans that could possibly ensue; it should be a wild one. Big love to my beta @michellecrusher for deciding that this chapter could use a touch of smut.

As always, I'm honored to be on this ride with you and look forward to any and all interactions. Comments, messages, reblogs; it all means so much to me and is what keeps this little world going ❤️‍🔥

-----

I'm on Fire Part 10: I got a bad desire

-----

Landing with your face on the puke-stained, beer dribbled carpet of the Velvet Hammer, dusted in a sprinkle of cigarette ash, was not how you wanted to start your evening. You hadn’t even realized you hit the ground until you heard Steve’s voice demanding everyone get the fuck out of his way as he parted bodies to get to you.

And then, Erika’s voice: “I don’t know what happened...she just...fell. I promise, I didn’t touch her!”

People were murmuring around you and Steve was saying your name as you started to come back to reality, taking a deep inhale, blinking back to life. He knelt and propped you up into a sitting position, and that was when the embarrassment of what had just happened began to wash over you, making you wish that a hole in the ground would swallow you up.

“Do you think you can stand?” Steve asked while his big hands found positions under your arms in preparation to lift you up. You turned your head to look at him; his wayfarer sunglasses had fallen from the top of his head to the tip of his nose, and they were about to slip off, but his concern was more with not letting you go.

“What happened?” He asked as he pulled you to your feet, taking a second to grab the sunglasses off his face and throw them on the bar. “Did someone push you?”

“Please. Get me out of here,” you begged as one of your arms went around his shoulders, and one of his hands secured itself at your waist.

He set you down on a chair in front of the employee lockers and told you he’d get someone to cover the door for him while he took you home, or he’d see if one of the girls could stop by.

With your hands between your knees and your shoulders slumped, you began to come to terms with everything as he picked up the phone in the office.

“Wait,” you stopped him. “I can’t afford to miss a day of work, Steve, I’ll be fine. Just...just give me a second to catch my breath.”

Steve understood what a hard spot that was to be in; he lived it almost every day of his life. He put the receiver back down on the cradle.

“What did that bitch say to you?” Steve asked, putting his foot up on the bench.

You shook your head. “That’s just it, she’s not a bitch,” you chewed your lip. “She just saved me from making a huge mistake. I owe her.”

Steve was on his way back out to the floor when you called to him. “Hey, does Eddie have any female friends who are redheads, that you know of? Really pretty, tattoo on her bicep? Someone he’d feel comfortable enough with to let stay at his place?”

Steve popped his knee out and put his hands on his hips, frowning. “No one that he’s...dated, I don’t think,” he rubbed his chin in thought. “But there’s Max, she’s more like a sister to us. I just tattooed her a few weeks ago. Her hair was like a bright, candy red. Why do you ask?”

You turned away from Steve and squeezed your eyes shut, a sob caught in your throat. The sudden rush of relief at so many groundbreaking realizations had your emotions on the verge of short-circuiting. Eddie still had quite a bit of explaining to do, but the tight bud of your heart was blooming like a rose in your chest once again, full of hope.

----------

Meanwhile, Eddie was officially going stir crazy. “I need to get out of this house,” he told Robin has he hitched through the kitchen, careful not to put too much weight on the hip was right below his wound. He was wearing his jeans unbuttoned, so they hung a bit low, bangs swept across his forehead, and one of Steve’s white wife beaters that was too small for him. The thin material exposed the tattoos on his chest and stomach, as well as the ones scattered from neck to hands. He’d spent the afternoon watching cartoons with Oliver, which was enjoyable, but relaxing and sitting still for long periods of time just wasn’t in his DNA.

Also, he wasn’t sure if it was an affect of the morphine, but he’d had another one of his nightmares early that morning, before dawn, and shouted himself awake, covered in sweat. It was the same dream that had tortured him off and on for over a decade; the one where he’s being attacked by a swarm of flesh-eating bat creatures, they’re all taking big bite out of his flesh, and he wakes up to the feeling of choking on his own blood.

“Over my dead body,” Robin challenged, moving from the stove with a wooden spoon covered in macaroni and cheese in her hand.

Eddie’s eyes traveled to the spoon and then back to her face. “That can be arranged.”

“Seriously, dude,” her shoulders sank. “Don’t make me hog tie you to the couch. I promised Astrid we’d keep an eye on you for another night.”

“I have a business to run, Rob,” he said as he hobbled over to grab his leather from the back of the one of the dining chairs. “If this were a hospital, they would’ve kicked me to the curb by now.”

Robin went back to the stove to stir the powdered cheese in with the noodles. She knew that no one could stop him if he wanted to go, and she really couldn’t blame him.

With her back to him she said, “if you end up getting some type of infection and your foot falls off, I won’t ever forgive you.”

Oliver came trotting out from the other room to say goodbye, and he raised his arms for Eddie to pick him up, which he did—and Robin glanced over just in time to see the grimace of pain flash across Eddie’s face as he settled the boy on the wrong hip at first before switching him to the other side. She shook her head, certain he would pop his stitches by the end of the day.

“Steve brought your bike up the hill,” she let him know, while she packed up some medications for him to take. “Your girlfriend is at work by now, I believe.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped to hers as he put Oliver down. “Why’d you call her that?”

“Isn’t she?” Robin challenged, raising her eyebrow. “I can tell you knew exactly who I was talking about.”

Eddie couldn’t help the smile that twitched across his lips.

----------

The Velvet Hammer was packed that night, and by the end of your shift, after very little food, no sleep, and one blackout, you were a bit wobbly on your feet. Steve had to work as security for a while longer, since there was a bachelor party in attendance that was getting a bit rowdy, but he demanded you let him walk you to your car while he had a smoke.

“So, I like Astrid,” you told him. He held out his cigarette to offer you a drag, but you declined with a wave of your hand. “What’s going on with you two?”

“Going on?” Steve put the cig to his lips with thumb and forefinger.

You adjusted your bag on your shoulder as you made room for a group of people to pass on the sidewalk. “You know what I mean,” you insisted, knowing full well that he did. “You two seemed really close last night. I was just curious.”

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ in love with her,” Steve announced with a shrug, as if it were common knowledge. “We just don’t have a conventional relationship, I guess. No one seems to understand it but us.”

You wondered, sincerely, how many women Steve had been in love with in his life. But, you could tell that there was, indeed, something special about the connection he had with Astrid. You wondered if Eddie looked at you the way Steve had looked at her last night.

Steve hung around to make sure you got in your car okay, and then you chuckled to yourself as he sauntered off, flirting with a group of women who were walking by, asking them to come by the bar and keep him company. You were about to maneuver your way out of the precarious parallel spot you were wedged in when your eyes locked on a piece of folded paper held to the windshield under one of the wipers.

At first, you thought it was ticket of some sort, like maybe you were in a no parking zone or something. But then, at closer examination, you realized it was made with blue-lined notebook paper.

It was a handwritten note.

The street was fairly busy that night with cars zooming around town, so you were cautious as you dashed out to pinch it free and pull it back into the safety of the car with you.

It was a...little paper origami duck? Or some kind of bird? You turned it around, inspecting the intricately folded parts, giggling curiously as you did so. You unfastened the delicate edges, careful not to rip it in haste. Finally, you were able to press a flat, albeit crumpled, half sheet of paper against your steering wheel, your heart shot into your throat, melting there like a fat stick of butter.

It was from Eddie:

I miss you. Come to my place so we can talk? It doesn’t matter how late.

-- E

P.S. Oliver wants to make this into a swan for you

Hopeful tears pooled at your lash line and you checked your watch; it was just after 11:30. Surely, they’d be keeping him at Steve’s for another night? But, if so, he would’ve said that and not, specifically “his place”. You tried to fold it back exactly the way it was, failed miserably, and ended up folding it in half without messing up any of the edges to place it safely in your middle console.

For a few seconds as you sat in your car with the radio on, listening to Nearly Lost You by The Screaming Trees, you wondered if you should play hard to get, if maybe rushing over to his place was not the right game to play. But really, truly, you didn’t give a shit about any of that.

You were blinking excessively and yawning, and you had this feeling like, if you rested your head back against the seat, you’d fall asleep right there in your car. But, you took a few deep breaths and patted your cheeks. You brought a can of Coke in your bag from the bar and cracked it open to guzzle some of it, thinking maybe you’d need to go home first and change? Or go straight to Eddie’s? Fall asleep in your car was still an option.

Fuck.

-----------

Earlier that day, around 5 o’clock, Eddie hissed as he dismounted his bike at the garage, clutching his side, trying to mask the spasm of pain, only to see Wayne watching him from the main garage. His uncle nodded in greeting, just wanting to make sure Eddie was okay, as he wiped his hands, and then turned around to finish what he was working on. So much of the communication they shared was silent, but understood.

He had the note in his pocket that Oliver had made into an origami animal, and he wanted to tidy up his place a bit before he did some work, just in case you did actually come over. If you didn’t, he wouldn’t blame you—it had been an especially long 24 hours. But, damn, he really needed to see you, to try and fix whatever had gone wrong, if he even could.

He still didn’t know what Charlene had done to upset you, but his mind reeled with the possibilities.

Eddie had ripped the bandage off his cheek on the way over, so there was just an angry gash there with a few stitches holding it together like a twist tie to a bunch of hammers, and he didn’t realize how much he resembled Frankenstein’s Monster until the new office assistance choked on her soda at the sight of him.

“Rough night?” She asked. Her name was Dana and she’d worked at garages before, but never for one that was affiliated with an MC.

“You could say that,” Eddie returned as he headed over to one of the metal filing cabinets to look for something.

Dana had a few “while you were out” slips of paper she had filled out with phone numbers and people who had wanted to speak with Eddie or Wayne, and she went over them with him while she chewed a red piece of gum.

She finished the last one and then, “oh, yeah, and someone called here looking for a…” she checked the piece of paper. “...Steve Harrington?”

Eddie nodded, taking something he needed out of the file before shutting the drawer. “He’s a buddy of mine. What’s the message?”

Dana scratched her head. “She didn’t say what it was about, just said that it was a personal matter,” she showed Eddie the pink piece of paper with a phone number and name on it. “Said her name was Christina? I don’t recognize the area code.”

“Could you look up Steve in the address book in that first drawer and relay the message for me? He’s in there under Dingus. I gotta run this out to the---”

Dana spelled out Dingus on the piece of paper, without questioning it, and then looked at the round clock on the wall, nervously. “Actually, I should’ve been gone a half hour ago. I need to pick up my daughter from--”

Eddie waved the papers in his hand. “Of course, I’m sorry I’ve been...distracted. Do me a favor and call him when you get in on Monday? I’m sure it can wait till then.”

The name Christina did not ring a bell at the time, but later on, he’d wish that it had.

--------

You decided to go home first to freshen up a bit, but also, you wanted to pick up the photos to show Eddie. Katie was asleep, but you made yourself some coffee and tiptoed around, wishing you had time to shower because you reeked of secondhand smoke, but then realized Eddie probably wouldn’t notice anyway.

You were nervous as you pulled into the gates of the compound; your heart was racing and your palms started to sweat. His black and chrome bike with the menacing, purple flock of bats on the tank was parked right up close to his door, and you angled your car right in next to it.

Once you turned your car off, you could hear the faint sound of music drifting down from the open window in his apartment. The song was Love You to Death by Type O Negative, and you glanced up just in time to see his shadow pull from the window, as if he’d been standing there, watching you drive up.

---------

Up in his apartment, Eddie cracked his knuckles, ignoring the fact that the skin on them was still raw and one of his fingers was probably sprained because it throbbed like a motherfucker. He wanted to make sure everything looked okay before he ran down to meet you at the front door. The TV was on mute, he’d been watching Unsolved Mysteries, but now an episode of the X-Files was starting. There were clean sheets on the bed—just in case---and he’d been on his hands and knees cleaning the bathroom for a good half hour. There was a vanilla candle burning on the nightstand, and he had lit some Nag Champa incense earlier to try and mask the fact that he’d just smoked a couple cigarettes to calm his nerves. He turned the music down a tad and wondered if Type O was too on-the-nose for such an evening, like maybe you’d think he was setting some tawdry scene, when in actuality, he listened to their music all the damn time. He had on the only pair of dark denim Levi’s he owned without holes in them, a black Faith No More shirt that had the neck and sleeves ripped off of it, and his black converse, which were a nice change from the heavy boots he always wore. He slipped his rings on and used his pinky to clean some sleep out of his eyes just before he headed down to greet you.

---------

You were just about to knock, knuckle poised in the air, when the door flew open.

“Hey,” Eddie stood there looking flushed, lips parted, dragging one hand down his stomach as his pupils dilated to take you in.

You gulped. “Hey. Is this too late? I wasn’t sure if you really meant---”

“Oh I really want you here,” Eddie stepped back, holding the door open with his body.

You were just going to walk through without making any physical contact, but then you found your body being sucked against his, as if by some gravitational pull, and you both sunk into each other. He was quick to put his arms around you, hugging you tighter, securing you to him as if your body was oxygen.

“I know we’ve got a lot to talk about,” he planted his lips on the top of your head, only removing them to speak. “I want to make it right, baby. I don’t ever want to hurt you, and I would never let anyone hurt---”

“I believe you,” you answered, moving further inside, wanting to get behind closed doors with him.

There were old, squeaky wood stairs that led up to the narrow hallway, and you held onto one of his belt loops as you followed him up, pausing so he could open the door and extend his arm for you to enter.

“So, this is where the magic happens,” you teased, taking in the open space that was bedroom, living room, and kitchen all in one. There were Iron Maiden and Slayer posters on the wall, a Harley Davidson plaque, as well as your painting, which was the first thing anyone saw when they walked in. Directly to your right was a hallway that looked like closet space and a door to a bathroom. It was a spacious, warehouse style loft with wood floors and a few round, woven rugs.

The windows...the windows were huge.

Eddie snorted at your comment, and was just about to turn around to take you into his arms again, when you bolted over to start busying yourself with lowering the curtains, starting with the window that faced the other side of the street.

“You really should keep these closed,” you told him, leaning over a table with a turntable and an 80’s style boombox. The pull did not work for the second curtain, and your frustration was mounting as you yanked at it, just as Eddie stepped over and put his hand on the cord.

“Let me do it, baby,” he met your eyes, trying to see if he could guess what had triggered such a frenzy.

While he finished dropping the blinds, you took the photos out of your bag, extending them when he turned around. You sat down at the end of the bed and watched his face as he slipped the contents out of the manila envelope to look at them.

He glanced at you a few times as he flipped through the photos, and his expression ebbed from confusion to anger and back again.

Eddie was shaking his head, hair hanging down, his strong fingers curling as if he wanted to crumple them up. “These aren’t...this is not what it looks like,” his eyes searched yours.

“I know,” you looked down, biting your top lip with your bottom teeth. “Erica told me you were set up. And Steve told me about...your other friend.”

The muscles in Eddie’s jaw tensed, teeth grinding, as his eyes narrowed on the window where most of the photos had been taken from. “Some fucker has been watching me this whole time?” The irrational part of Eddie wondered if the guy was over there, somewhere in the abandoned building, right at that moment. Maybe he should go over and introduce himself, possibly break the guys face with his own camera. Break his hands and throw him out the third story window while he was at it.

The photos were starting to make Eddie feel sick with rage, so he put them back in the envelope. Your bloodshot eyes fluttered and he could see how tired you were.

“Who would do this?” You asked, earnestly. “More importantly, why would they do it? I haven’t been here long enough to make enemies. Not of this caliber, anyway.”

Eddie put the envelope on top of the kitchen counter and sat down next to you on the bed with a heavy sigh. He had his hands resting on his knees, but then he took a chance and slid one arm over to interlace his fingers with yours, and you let him. He squeezed your hand. “It’s a long story, but a while back I made a mistake and got involved with this woman who--”

“Charlene Gregson?” She’d always been at the top of your list for someone who would have the motive for something so unnecessarily heinous.

“That’s the one,” he brought your hand over across his leg. “That’s where I went last night, to try and stop her, I suppose. I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

That made a laugh bubble out of your chest for some reason. “What was your plan? Crash through her gates on your motorcycle on a cloud of smoke and seek vengeance?”

Eddie shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, it always works out in the movies.”

You giggled and pulled away, but then he tugged you back, and you were still smiling as he scooped his hand around your cheek and pulled you in for a kiss, little hiccups of laughter erupting between kisses tongues slipping in ever so gently; Mulder and Scully having a conversation on the TV in the background. You held onto his wrist, sinking deeper into the yearning that you always felt for him, pulling back only to rub the tips of your noses together, lips grazing.

“Stay here with me tonight?” Eddie whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “I want to hold you.”

You were sure, you were almost positive, that you had just fallen asleep for a second while he was talking, and you blinked hard just as he lifted his eyes to meet yours.

“But I stink, I smell like the Velvet Hammer. I didn’t have a chance to shower,” you mewed, feeling your body slump further into hibernation mode as the adrenaline from the past two days wore off.

“You don’t stink,” Eddie assured you. “You can sleep in one of my shirts, and you can use my toothbrush, if you don’t mind my germs.” He had your hand in his and was holding it to his chest as he watched your face.

“I figured you’d have plenty of extra toothbrushes here for all of the copious amounts of women who sleep over,” your exhaustion was making you feisty.

Eddie gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I do have a few extras for emergencies. But I’ve never offered up my own personal toothbrush before.”

“Goodbye,” you chirped, standing up, ready to leave.

But Eddie chuckled and caught you around the waist, throwing you down on the bed next to him with a bounce and a grunt.

You were doing a poor job of stiffing your own laughter as you tried to keep a serious face, but then he moved to crawl on top of you and you watched his face seize in pain. He stiffened and put his hand over the area where his knife wound was, easing himself onto his back. While Eddie silently prayed that he hadn’t ripped his stitches, you went around the side of the bed to click the lamp off. You turned the TV off too; the music was on low, but that you didn’t mind.

“We are quite a pair tonight,” Eddie mumbled from the bed, slightly incapacitated, as he watched you moved around his apartment.

You loved the idea of sleeping in one of his shirts and hygiene and all that jazz, but in that moment—you weren’t sure you could last another second. Your lids were heavy and your conversation skills were at an all time low. With rubbery limbs, you climbed on the dark blue comforter of his bed and curled against him, making sure it was the side he hadn’t been stabbed on. Flat on his back, Eddie’s eyes never left you, and he was ready with his arm high and outstretched for your head to make a pillow out of his shoulder.

“I can’t keep my eyes open for another second,” you yawned. You grabbed his chest to pull yourself closer, like he was a pillow, and he kissed your forehead.

You kissed the gash on his cheek, nuzzling the hair just above his ear, planting more kisses as you went. Eddie felt his cock spring to life in his jeans and he was too exhausted to do anything about it. You cupped your hand on the side of his neck, kissed the corner of his mouth, and then finally let your cheek fall to his shoulder with a flop.

Eddie took hold of your leg at the crook of your knee to pull it across his hips, needing to feel your weight, not wanting to let you get away. He closed his eyes, drowning in the feel of your soft puffs of breath on his neck, your chest moving up and down on his arm. He planted his lips to your head again, giving a few audible smooches before he rested his torn cheek lightly against you.

He wrapped his arm around tighter, bringing you closer. “You know, Robin called you my girlfriend today,” he admitted, a low laugh rumbling from his chest.

The only response you could manage was, “mmmpfm?”

The stubble of his jaw grazed your forehead as he contemplated what he was about to say. He’d just been stabbed, and it made him consider his mortality, and the time he had left.

“I was thinking,” he breathed. “If you like the sound of that, maybe we could, make it official? That is, if you could ever see yourself having a dirtbag like me as a boyfriend.”

Your body had gone limp and, in the following seconds while he waited for a response, he heard a soft whistle in your nose and a snore catch in the back of your throat. A few drops of drool started pooling from the side of your mouth and made a wet spot on his shirt.

Eddie chuckled, peeking down at you, but trying not to move too much, not realizing he was about to drift off to sleep as well.

-----------

You weren’t sure what time it was when your head rolled off of Eddie’s shoulder, jerking you awake, but it was dark outside, and you were still in the same position you were when you passed out: hand loosely cupping his neck, and your leg stretched across his hips. His head had rolled to the side, away from you, full lips parted, and the blue glow from the stereo cast a moody light on his skin, making his cheek wound look like something out of science fiction.

Still half asleep, you kissed the exposed muscles of his throat, right at the spot where the dark lines from his back tattoo came up across his neck, and your hand slid down his chest; you didn’t have a plan, you just wanted to feel him. His breathing was steady and shallow, eyeballs dancing under his lids. Your hand met with the top of his jeans, and then your eyes widened at the bulge that was causing a huge gap from skin to denim.

You slid your leg off of him, letting your hand move down a bit further, and your hand had to widen over his clothing to pass over the expanse of his arousal there.

Without even realizing it, you had started thrusting your hips against him, working your core against his hip, and then you lifted up to kiss his chin, aching to find his mouth with yours. You’d gone over to his place with every intention of being intimate with him, and nature had intervened with other plans, but you still wanted him to know how bad you wanted him, how much you craved him every second of the day.

Eddie groaned awake to return your kiss, and one of his hands grabbed your face. “Who is this greedy girl?” He mumbled against your mouth, his eyes droopy.

You straddled him, keeping your knees low, at his thighs, careful not to hit his wound. You started to move your core up and down along the bulge under his jeans, and then you leaned forward to brush your lips against his as you spoke. “You’re so hard, let me take care of it.”

Eddie whimpered a little in the back of his throat. “You can take whatever you want, baby,” and then a visible shiver ran through his body at the mere thought of your mouth on his cock.

You inched your way down, sucking hickeys into the dark tattoos spread across his stomach and chest, avoiding the medical tape from his bandage. Eddie moaned and threw his head back as you licked along the inside of his hip, unzipping his jeans to pull them down.

No boxers underneath, his huge cock sprang free, and the sight of the pre-cum already dripping from the pink tip made your mouth water. Eddie bit his lip while he watched you from under hooded eyes as you took control, pulled his jeans down further, and straddled his leg.

You bent over, and kept eye contact with him as you licked all the way down the shaft, and then wet the tip with your mouth, flicking your tongue along the slit, cleaning up his primal release.

Eddie pupils were blown, his lips parted as he watched.

“Whose cock is this?” You asked, teasing the tip with your wet mouth, planting hungry kisses down his shaft.

Eddie choked a little in the back of his throat. “It’s—it’s yours baby.”

He was already rock hard—throbbing, even---and your core flowered open beneath your clothes, soaking your underwear to the point that you actually had to reach down and touch yourself as you sucked him. Eddie noticed this and it made him mumble, “fuckbabyfuck,” as his leg squirmed, digging his heel into the bed.

You worked the tip of his cock with your hand while you sucked one of his balls into your mouth, and you couldn’t help but smile a little at how crazy it was making him.

Somehow, between sleeping on someone else’s couch and working, Eddie had neglected to jerk off recently, and so he was about to….

“Fuck, baby, right there,” he hissed, bucking his hips. “You’re gonna make me…”

You went back to work, gripping him with hand and mouth in tandem, lips stretching to take all of him, eyes watering, swallowing his tip in the back of your throat every so often, as he watched you with a furrowed brow, cursing under his breath.

Suddenly, his breath started to hitch, and the fingers of one of his hands dug into the comforter. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby...if you want it...like that…”

He was warning you as if you’d pull your mouth off and jerk him the rest of the way, but you wanted all of it in your mouth. You moaned as you sucked at the tip, pulling the orgasm out of him, saliva dripping down his balls.

Eddie let out a whimper and his leg jerked just before he stilled, and you tasted the salty sweetness of his warm cum shoot into the back of your throat in bursts. You drank his spend like his dick was a straw, throat busy swallowing every drop, moaning as you did so. You milked the tip for all he could give you, and then you cleaned him up with your greedy tongue, planting kisses on his cock when he was done with his release.

Eddie stared at the ceiling, slightly shook. “How are you so good at that?”

You sighed a quick laugh, licking your lips, as you made your way to the bathroom to finally brush your teeth. When you came back out, he was already asleep.

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

As your eyes opened and adjusted to a sliver of buttery light peeking in from the curtain, your mind put you in several places. First, you were in your childhood bedroom, feeling like you needed to get up and ready for school, and then you were in the more recent bed in the house you shared with Katie. But, then the Iron Maiden poster came into focus and you were slammed with the realization that you had passed out in Eddie’s bed and it was already morning. Your intention had been to take a nap for an hour or two, but now you were alert to the idea that Eddie might still be somewhere in the room.

You remembered falling asleep on Eddie’s shoulder, waking up hungry for his cock, but now you were facing in the other direction, there was a blanket over you, and someone had taken your shoes off. It was Sunday, so the garage was closed, but you could still hear voices down below and the sound of a car engine revving. You reached your hand behind you to pat the bed, but only found an empty space; either Eddie was in the bathroom or he had already gone downstairs to start his day. God, what time was it?

You rolled over to crawl across the bed to look at the digital alarm clock, inhaling the smell from Eddie’s pillow as you went, and choked a little when you saw it was almost 9:30.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled, throwing the cover off of your body. You couldn’t remember the last time you slept in for that long. A fear that you’d be late for work gripped you, but then you were reminded that you were no longer the director of a gallery, and your new job didn’t start until cocktail hour.

You found your shoes tucked neatly against the sofa, and on the kitchen counter in front of the coffee pot was a note propped up like a little tent with your name on it.

I had to run a tow.

I hope you’re here when I get back.

Thank you for taking it like a good girl last night.

-- E

Eddie and his little notes. You grinned as you folded it up and put it in your pocket, because of course you’d be saving any note he ever left you till the end of time.

It was then that a heavy fist started pounding on the door down below. “Helloooo? Anyone? What the hell do I gotta do to get some service around here?”

----------

Even though the mechanics were all off that day, the towing business was a 24 hour thing. There was another Coffin King named Lou who was usually able to cover some nights and weekends, but when Eddie found himself stuck with a pickup at the worst possible time, he tried to focus on the money and be grateful for it.

He’d considered waking you up to see if you wanted to go with him, but you were sleeping so peacefully, he didn’t have the heart to disturb you. He woke up with his cock so achingly hard thinking about what you did to him in the middle of the night, that he had to jerk off as quietly as possible in the shower that morning. He was sure you’d heard the grunt he barked when he came, thinking about filling you up, listening to you tell him how deep you wanted all of him inside of you.

The last time he went this long without having intercourse with a girl that he had feelings for was maybe his freshman year in high school. The crazy thing was, he was enjoying the feeling of waiting and making it special; even though the holding out part was totally accidental, and he would’ve jumped at the chance to bury himself inside you that very first night you met.

But the way you took care of him last night, holy shit: he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He couldn’t tell if he had really found the Holy Grail of women, or if his feelings for you had made it as intense as it was; possibly a bit of both. He was seized with memories of your mouth on him off and on while he was on the job, and he’d have to slyly adjust himself in his jeans. He couldn’t wait to get back to you.

He started to whistle as he rounded the corner to re-enter the compound, hoping that your car was still there, hoping that he could….

But he spotted a different car in the lot right next to yours that hadn’t been there before, and you were coming out from out of the garage with your hand shielding your eyes, looking deeply concerned.

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

You considered just letting whoever it was keep on knocking, but at one point, the person yelled: “Eddie! I know you’re here! Don’t make me take your bike for a spin around the block!”

And so, you put your shoes on and went down, wholly unprepared for what you would find.

There were two smiling faces practically pressed up against the glass of the main door as you descended the stairs. One was a guy with a mop of brown curls, and the woman with him had beautiful olive skin, black hair, and wore glasses. They both waved enthusiastically, happy to finally be acknowledged.

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

“What the hell, Henderson?” Eddie parked the tow truck and jumped down, wallet chain flapping against his jeans. Eddie waved to you across the way, as his mouth opened into a toothy grin, exposing actual cheek dimples, that you’d maybe only seen him wear once or twice.

“If it isn’t the Dungeon Master!” Dustin came toward him with his arms out. “What the hell is up with you and Steve? You’re the two hardest losers to find!”

They hugged, and then Eddie tousled Dustin’s hair, mussing it up. “You haven’t changed a bit, you little goblin.”

Next to you, under the shade of the awning was a very pregnant Suzie, who you’d also just met. She was in a purple floral dress with a white collar, and you’d pulled a chair around for her to have a seat.

“I love to see my Dusty Buns happy again,” she said, passing her hand over the globe of her belly as you both watched the two men embrace. “We should’ve moved back sooner, but life just got away from us.”

“How do you all know each other?” You were just barely able to introduce yourself before Eddie pulled up, and so you had no idea how close the gang was.

“I’m surprised the boys never mentioned Dustin to you? They went to high school together; they’re all really close. Steve is basically Dustin’s surrogate father,” she giggled, lifting her sweet moon-shaped face to you in a soft smile.

You did feel a little self-conscious about not knowing, but there was a good reason for it. “Well, I’m...Eddie and I are…kind of a new thing.” But then you remembered that you did know a little bit about one of their old friends. “They’ve mentioned Max to me. I guess she visited a couple days ago? I didn’t get to meet her though.”

“Maxine is a riot!” Suzie exclaimed. “You’ll get you meet her and Lucas when the baby is born. They said they wanted to be here for the actual birth, but who can really tell when that will be? I’m due in a week, but I was born two weeks early, and my sister’s newest baby was born almost a month late,” her eyes got glossy. “Boy, I really can’t imagine holding this baby in for another hour, let alone another month.”

Eddie had his arm around Dustin’s shoulders as they approached, and he gave him a playful knuckle rub to the head before they parted.

Eddie greeted Suzie, and she went to stand up to hug him, but Eddie quickly bent over and kissed her on the cheek so that she wouldn’t have to move. He swallowed as he took in the enormous state of her pregnant belly. “Shouldn’t you be...resting? Is it too hot out here? Should we go inside? Are you comfortable in that chair?”

Suzie laughed. “My god, Eddie, you’re as bad as Dustin. I’m fine, I promise. I’m trying to shake this baby loose; this little person has rented out my womb for long enough.”

Eddie met your eyes and kissed you on the lips before he put his arm around you and pulled you against him.

It was the wrong side, again, and he winced.

Dustin noticed the look of pain. “What the hell happened to you?”

“He got stabbed,” you volunteered with a sheepish look on your face, tilting your head to Eddie’s shoulder.

“Oh, of course he did,” Dustin said, his mouth wide. “What else would Eddie or Steve be doing on the weekends besides mortal combat?”

Suzie looked concerned, but Eddie assured the group that he was fine. He looked you in the face as he said: “So, did you two get to meet my girl?”

Your cheeks got warm, and you ran your hand up and down his back.

“Only briefly, before you rudely interrupted,” Dustin let him know, moving behind Suzie’s chair to put his hands on her shoulders. Dustin had been worried for a while there that Eddie would never move on from his ex, and that he would always be in a dark head space in regards to romance, and so seeing him with you made his heart feel light.

“You see Steve yet?” Eddie asked. “He’ll be pissed you didn’t come to see him first.”

“Um, not like we didn’t tryyyy,” Dustin raised both eyebrows. “No one was at the house and the tattoo shop wasn’t open yet. I talked to him on the phone a few weeks ago, but we weren’t sure when we’d be in town.”

Eddie thought about that for a second. It was very odd for neither one of them to be home, especially on a Sunday morning. But, there was a chance Robin took Oliver to a shift at work with her and Steve had spent the night at Astrid’s, depending on how early Dustin had popped by.

“I’ll find him,” Eddie assured them both. “Are you staying at your moms house.”

“Hell no,” Dustin responded almost too quickly. “I mean, I love my mother, don’t get me wrong, but she’s been driving us up the wall lately. We’re renting a house a few blocks away from her until everything is finalized at our new place.”

They all made a plan to meet up as soon as they could figure out where Steve and Robin were, and once they were gone, Eddie turned to you, cupping your neck to pull you against him.

“Is it okay that I introduced you as my girl?” He stroked his thumb across your chin as he asked it, chocolate eyes unsure if they should meet your gaze or watch your mouth.

You lifted up to brush your lips across his, tongue peeking out only slightly, making him groan a little. You searched his eyes, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Is that what I am?”

Eddie put his hands on your lower back and brought his head back, wanting to see your whole face. “You tell me. I wanna hear it. Are you my girl?”

You were nodding yes before he even finished. “I’ve been your girl for a long time now, silly boy.”

“Yeah?” Eddie breathed in a chuckle, his cock growing as he met your sweet, eager mouth. He paused only to admit, “I’ve wanted you to be mine since that first day we met.”

----------

Of all the places Steve had hoped to wake up on Sunday morning, a jail cell was not one of them.

He made bail, and Robin was there to pick him up, giving him a dirty look as she did so. He had his sunglasses on, his Coffin Kings cut in his hand, and a cigarette bobbing between his lips as he got into the passenger seat and shut the door. The “seek and destroy” tat on the side of his neck displayed loud and proud.

“Nice shiner,” Robin said under her breath.

“Yeah, well, you should see the other guy,” Steve said, cupping his hands to light his smoke. His black eye was the only visible mark on him, but the dude he had a tussle with had gone to town on Steve’s ribs, and there would definitely be bruises there.

She made a face as she backed out of the parking spot. “You smell like vomit.”

He ignored her observation. “Where’s Ollie?”

“I dropped him at Astrid’s,” she said as she pulled her own sunglasses down from the top of her head to cover her eyes. “I didn’t want him to see this.”

“Why are you acting like this was all my fault?” Steve blanched, flicking ash out the window as they turned out of the courthouse, Somebody to Shove by Soul Asylum playing on the radio. “You don’t even know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know, Steve, that’s the point,” she barked. Her frustration with him was also mixed with a generous amount of worry. “When are you going to grow up and start walking away from danger instead of headlong into it every chance you get?”

“Oh I get it,” Steve said sarcastically. “So, you don’t care that Tina is back in town, and this had everything to do with her?”

Robin hit the breaks and turned to him so fast, a chunk of her hair stuck to her bottom lip. “What do you mean Tina is back in town?”

“Now you care?” He tapped his knee as he took another drag.

Robin felt like she forgot how to breathe, so she pulled over to park haphazardly along the sidewalk at an angle.

She turned the car off but left the air on. “You know how I feel about Tina, but please tell me you didn’t hit her.”

“Oh, fucking of course not,” Steve balked, snapping his head to look at her. He gestured to his black eye with the two fingers holding his cigarette, “this was courtesy of her new fiance. I think they were both on crack. They were waiting for me when I left work last night. Now, all of a sudden, out of the goddamn blue, Tina wants to see Oliver.”

Robin was shaking her head, gripping the steering wheel. “No, no, absolutely not,” she said, definitively. “She disappeared when he was 3 months old. No. There’s no way. She’s a drug addict, she’s a narcissist, no. Not a chance in hell.”

“I know, Rob, believe me. It’s not going to happen, okay?” Steve assured her with a wave of his hand. “At least not until she cleans her life up.”

Christina, Oliver’s biological mother, didn’t have a nurturing bone in her body, and never wanted anything to do with her son, but the fear had always been in the back of his head that one day she’d pop up like a mean, STD rash.

Robin felt her eyes getting moist and she wiped at her cheeks angrily. “Where are her and her fleabag fiance now?”

“Oh I put that scumbag in the hospital so hard,” Steve threw the rest of his cigarette out the window and licked his lips. “He’s lucky I didn’t put him in a grave. I’m sure Tina’s already changed her mind, you know how fickle and selfish she is. They were most likely on a bender and thought they’d come through town and fuck with us. They’re probably on their way back to Memphis by now. I don’t want you to worry about it, okay?”

Robin swallowed a few times, trying to allow him to comfort her. She never expected or intended to fall into this roll and be a mother to Steve’s son. But, it happened. Oliver was their son now, and she loved him as much as if he had grown in her womb. And, she would fight to keep him safe with the same level of conviction.

Steve sniffed and adjusted himself in his seat. “Thank you for bailing me out, by the way.”

Robin snorted as she started the car. “Dingus, I could barely afford the gas to drive over here, and you think I had the cash to bail you out? Get real.”

Steve frowned. “Who was it, then? They said I made bail. Otherwise, I’d still be rotting in there.”

“I assumed it was Astrid? Or Eddie?”

Steve shook his head. “Eddie doesn’t know, and Astrid is in the same financial hole we are.”

Robin put the car in drive but kept the break on. “Well, who was it then?” She posed the question as both of them searched their collective data bank memories for a close friend nearby who had more than two pennies to rub together, or something valuable to use as collateral.

Hours later, they still couldn’t think of anyone.

----------

You left Eddie reluctantly so that he could go look for Steve, and you could take a long awaited shower and throw your nicotine-saturated clothes in the wash. The business card with John Gregson’s email, phone number, and private extension was on your dresser, and you stopped to pick it up as you walked across the room. You meant to bring up the situation to Eddie, but the timing was never right. Was John trying to mess with you in the same way his wife wanted to mess with Eddie? You didn’t get a bad feeling from him, but now, after everything with the photos and Charlene paying people off, you weren’t sure.

A voice inside whispered that John could be an ally if you impressed him, and he had the notion to take you under his wing. John was the one with all the power at the end of the day, and if Charlene could play with fire, well then, so could you.

You decided to give him a call first thing Monday, and hopefully make a consultation appointment with him to get a taste for what type of art piece would suit his tastes and needs. You wondered if it was for his office or home? If it was a piece for his personal space at home, would you bump into Charlene while you were there, commiserating with her husband? The idea of getting under Charlene’s skin and making her sweat a little scratched an itch in you that you had not been able to reach for a while.

---------

Part 11

Eddie after reader is done with him image courtesy of @tenthmoon

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It's so damn cool that some of you have made it this far and continue to want to know what goes on with reader and our boys! It warms my heart in a way I'm having trouble expressing in words xoxo

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Taglist for my other Hell's Belles and Coffin Kings ❤️‍🔥 @texasblues @sidthedollface2 @hideoutside @lilpotatobean2 @dandelionnfluff @munsons-mayhem28 @eddiemunson95 @tlclick73 @clincallyonline17 @kelsiegrin @stylesxmunson @nope-thanks @lofaewrites @layla-loves-ed @seventhlevelofhell @corrodedcoffincumslut @whatwedontdointheshadows @falling-solar-system @miarosso @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @lma1986 @emxcast @secretdryrose @bexreadstoomuch @ms1oftheboys @dream-a-little-nightmare @hellv1ra @manicmagicmayhem @etherealglimmer @unfocused81 @notsobubblybaby @trufflshuffle12 @aysheashea @leilalaufeyson02 @ireidsmut @trixyvixx @tenthmoon

[vaguesxrrow]

can u plsss write one about charles with an american reader? like the inspo is the olivia rodrigo song so american lol. like maybe him making fun of her accent and her doing the and back and like the differences between the two cultures?

ACTUALLY INSANEEE bc right before seeing this i was singing that song in my head (i dont listen to olivia but i probably should tbh). alsoo i wasn't sure if you wanted a fic or hcs, so i kind of made a 2 in 1. hope you dont mind! xx

a/n: im not american nor british and ive never been to the usa or the uk... so excuse any inaccuracies pleaseee

tags: g!n reader, american!reader, alive!reader

you shivered and exhaled sharply, your breath misting out in front of you. the moment you stepped outside, you knew you should have piled on more layers, but edwin had been eager in whisking everyone out the door to carry out an investigation for your current case.

you burrowed closer to charles. obviously, he couldn't provide any real body heat, but being near him was a boost in morale to keep going despite the temperature.

"alright?" he asked, putting an arm across your shoulders.

"i should've put on more layers," you grumbled.

charles laughed as he kissed the top of your head. "you can have my jacket."

shaking your head, you declined. "it's fine, it's not that cold. and besides, i wouldn't want to strip you of your british glory and your british coat."

charles snorted. "so it's my british glory, now? who was the one making fun of my accent literally just yesterday?"

"litch-rally," you parroted, grinning. "why is it that all your t's turn into ch's?"

"hey, you're one to talk - what is it you were ordering at the restaurant yesterday? a glass of wa-der, was it?"

"bite me, charles."

he raised his jacket up and engulfed you with it in a bear hug. you shrieked with laughter and wriggled in his hold, but didn't protest when he demanded you hold your arms out so he could put the jacket on you.

"what are you, a soccer player? i thought i was your [boy/girlfriend/partner], not your competition," you teased.

"soccer?" he mocked, outraged. "soccer? it's football, mate."

"mate?" you scoffed incredulously, although you were smiling. "way to friendzone me after months of dating."

"oh, come on, you know you could never get rid of me." charles pulled you in again, this time by your hand. "and for the record, you look cute wearing my clothes."

a few beats of silence, in which you two looked at each other with similar expressions of fondness and exasperation.

"yeah, okay, now get away from me, you victorian fossil." you shoved him playfully, and sprinted away to catch up with the other three. niko waved you over, giggling at charles, who was jogging to keep up.

"victorian fossil? i grew up in the 80s!" he exclaimed. "you know this!"

⌦ ---

- you do know very well that charles grew up in the 80s - you frequently ask him what it was like back then, because naturally, you'd take an interest in your boyfriend's life

- however, charles loves how you're genuinely interested, and get how watching times change can feel a bit lonely for him sometimes

- you're a great listener when it comes to this (which you think you should be greatly accredited for; charles' good looks can be very distracting at times)

- imagine: you and charles in your room as he looks around, inspecting the decor you have on display as he rambles about life in the 80s

- he tells you about a huge movie premiere he went to:

- charles: "get this, right - a ridiculously long line outside the movie theatre. the weather is absolutely miserable, and so are the people. no one's talking at all. i think everyone was just hungry - i saw this lady have tea delivered.

- you: 'i keep forgetting you have stuff like tea times. and did everyone really have the patience to wait for that long, in silence?'

- charles, with a fake american accent: yeah, dude. in silence.

- you throw a pillow at him.

- you also like telling hilariously bad jokes relating to his accent

- you: psst. charles.

- he turns towards you, already expecting another jab at his british-ness

- you: what day do british people eat the most?

- charles, in a deadpan: what day.

- you: chewsday, innit-

- he yells 'NOPE' and walks through the wall, leaving you to wheeze-laugh on your own

[littleficsworld]

Just a little Grammy inspired sleepy Jake fluff🥁💛

...

Imagine travelling to Nashville to be with the boys for their Grammy party at home. You're knackered from the long day of travelling but insisted on being with them.

They ordered in a whole bunch of food and you find yourself sipping rosé wine that Sam keeps topping up when you're not paying attention and eating pizza. The boys get a bit rowdy as usual after a few beers and Jake notices you sinking further into the pillows on the sofa with heavy lidded eyes.

He pads over to you...

'Alright there angel?'

'Yeah just been a long day and I'm not used to travelling that's all,' you say as you look up at him with tired doe eyes. You feel the sofa shift as he sits down next to you and grabs a soft throw and tucks you in. You blush at the gesture, feeling a little self conscious surrounded by the boys family and friends, some of whom you didn't know very well.

'Here let's get you all cosy,' he says as he gives your cheek a quick squeeze and strokes your hair softly, 'We've set up a guest bed for you upstairs love, just let me know when you're ready.'

You answer with a smile 'thank you Jakey,' and you really meant it.

...

You were awoken by a little shake of your shoulder, it was Jake letting you know it was their category.

'Eeeee is this it!' you said as you crossed fingers and toes for the boys and looked around the room at the faces anxiously watching the huge screen in Josh's house. You reached up to grab Jake's hand in your own.

'And the winner is... Paramore!'

'Ahhh,' you sighed looking at Jake and squeezing his hand as the room let out a few boo's and disappointed sounds before Josh rallied everyone round for a speech saying thank you to everyone.

...

The night carried on and your eyes were getting heavier and heavier. Jake seemed to notice you drifting and was by your side again, albeit a bit wobbly from the drink.

'Oh hello you, do you mind showing me my bed now Jakey?' You smile.

'Aw is angel sleepy,' he cooed with his signature shit-eating grin, 'come on...' he said as he took your hand leading you past the many faces and up the stairs, to a cosy looking guest room with the most plush bed you've ever seen. Jake nips back out to grab your suitcase and unzips it, as you crawl across the bed, the sweet scent of fresh linen luring you further into a sleepy state. Jake pulls out your childhood teddy from the bag and props him by the pillows as you cocoon yourself into the sheets.

'Thank you for coming angel,' be says dropping a kiss to your forehead.

'My pleasure,' you mutter almost at a whisper.

'You catch up on some sleep and I'll join you soon love, if that's still okay?' ever the gentleman checking if you were still comfortable sleeping in the same bed as him, as you'd arranged earlier.

'Yes of course Jakey! Although I can't promise I'll be awake for much longer,' you smile sleepily at him.

He looks down at you with so much love and adoration, 'I love you angel.'

'Love you too Jakey'