#skeptic’s fuckin pissed

[gibbearish]

anyways. have yall seen the deliverance. and if yes have you read the wikipedia article. because like. that woman 100% was literally just straight up abusing her kids and used the church to get out of it. the movie doesnt even try to hide it that hard. "based on a true story" except of course for all of the important bits of context like how the cps agent was not in fact a nonbeliever in the supernatural before switching to her side and never did so and that the kid could only walk up the wall with his grandma's help and that none of the prior tenants had similar experiences (@ trey whered you go) and the POLICE CHIEF BELIEVED IN DEMONS BEFORE MEETING HER !! and that every SINGLE thing that happened in real life can be (and fucking IS) explained by child abuse. half the time the movie is just like "ok yeah sure maybe she was abusing her kids, but only because demons made her do it". and then drop little hints that she was in jail before for Something (doesn't say what but i can guess) and that her drinking problems are well established and that her oldest son was stockpiling money to get away from her long before they moved to that house. also i could be misreading the timeline but seems like her supernatural experiences only started after her own abusive mother moved back in with her which can SO easily trigger old wounds to come back to the surface so like OF COURSE youre gonna start seeing shit, disturbances can be a ptsd symptom !!!!

tldr; fuck latoya ammons so hard, if this is the made-presentable-for-tv version then like. i want to say i cant imagine what the real life version was like, but i very much can. and for that, fuck her. immensely. i hope her children are actively writing a rebuttal and/or reaching out to lawyers to sue her ass as we speak.

[archangeldyke-all]

I don’t know if I already sent this ask bc I was half asleep lollll, but what about Sev and reader enemies to lovers but they both have food trucks. Sevika has been parking in that area for years and everyone knows her and loves her food, but readers recently parked next to her and is stealing all her coustumers. I just think it would be so cute, love uuuu💕💕

this is adorable

men and minors dni

vander and silco have been in feud for years.

silco's subs was ranked the best place to get a sandwich for ten years in a row until vander's po'boys opened up down the street.

silco's subs had a monopoly on babette's dry cuts... until vander cut a deal with the butcher herself.

and, just when silco was certain that he'd outdone his competitor: refurbishing an old van and sending sevika downtown to feed the masses of professionals on their lunch break-- you showed up in your own 'vander's po'boys van', parking across the street from where sevika's parked her truck.

you sell two sandwiches before sevika comes over to confront you.

"you've gotta be fucking kidding me!" she shouts from the back of the line forming outside of your van. you bite back a laugh at the sight of silco's assistant manager.

"good afternoon, sevika." you greet. she scowls at you.

"this is our block! at least park down the fucking street!"

"awe, but then i wouldn't get to watch you work." you tease, pouting.

sevika blushes, snarls, curls her hands into fists, then turns around and marches back toward her van.

you laugh as you watch her go.

despite all of their animosity, half a year ago silco and vander decided to put their differences aside and go out to dinner together, to settle their beef.

the beef was never settled, but vander and silco have been going steady ever since.

sevika's taken it upon herself to inherent the feud now that both of your bosses are pre-occupied with making out with one another. you'd much rather follow their lead and make out with her than fight with her, but you'll play along for as long as she needs to realize that the only reason you're teasing her so much is 'cause you like having her attention.

for days, you and sevika stand off on your street downtown. she has lock assemble sandwiches, you have ran take over for you-- and the two of you spend your afternoons arguing with one another in the middle of the street.

well, sevika argues. you just flirt.

"you're looking good, today, sev. the black apron really suits you."

"fuck off. your truck is filthy. i'm calling the health department on you."

or, "sevika! you like salami right? come try these new smoked slices we got delivered, i've been saving them for you!"

"god, can't you take a fuckin' himt? we're not friemds! i don' wan' y'r fuckin' shalami!"

"...you're eating it all though."

she's been warming up to you, you can tell. after each one of your little spats, she walks you safely across the street and back to your truck, a hand on the small of your back as she helps you cross the busy street.

you kiss her cheek each time she drops you off, and each time, she blushes darker and darker.

and today, as she's bitching about some customer who pissed her off, you decide to ask her out.

"c'mere." you guide her toward your truck. she continues her rant as you reach in the back, into the little mini fridge that carries your lunch and water. "here." you say, smiling and handing her a wrapped sandwich.

she pauses her rant to look up at you, raising an eyebrow. "a sandwich?" she asks skeptically. you huff.

"just open it." you pout. she rolls her eyes, but begins unwrapping her sub. you watch in anticipation as she eyes it, then takes a bite.

she chews, chews, then groans, and goes in for another bite. you grin.

"you like it?"

"fuckin' delicious, what is it?" she asks, moaning around a mouthful of meat, cheese, and bread. you giggle.

"i made it for you. i call it the sevika. almost every cold cut, coleslaw, pickles, peppers, all the sharp cheeses we have, but no blue because you hate it, spicy mayo--" sevika presses a finger to your lips, shutting you up. you wait patiently for her to finish chewing her bite, then lick her lips.

"you made this for me?" she asks. you nod.

"i know you're trying your best to hate me, but i think deep down you got a bit of a crush on me. so i was hoping, you know. i could give you a sandwich and ask you out to dinner?" you try.

sevika smirks. "is that so?" you nod, grinning at her. "will you make me another one of these for dinner?" she asks. you chuckle.

"i was thinkin' we could go somewhere classy. but i'll make you one for lunch every day." you promise.

sevika smiles, then brings her sandwich to her mouth to take another bite. you reach out and grab her wrist before she can, raising your eyebrow at her. "can i help you?" she asks. you giggle.

"i need an answer. and i'd prefer if you didn't kiss me with a buncha meat-mush in your mouth."

"who says i'm gonna kiss you?" sevika asks. you scoff, then smack her shoulder.

"oh, come on sev! i've seen the way you look at m--mmph!" she swoops forward and presses her lips to yours. she tastes like mayonnaise and pickles.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352

[vampsquerade]

Hi

I was wondering if I could leave a request with you.

Could I please request a platonic Simon ghost Riley x male reader where reader joins the 141 for the very first time and ghost being ghost is very skeptical and I trust worthy of him. But over time during a duo mission they become the bestest friends possible like an inseparable duo.

Please and thank you

yes of course! thank you so much for the request and sorry if it’s a bit weird, it’s been a bit since i’ve written a platonic relationship for a character with a personality like ghost’s…but i hope you like it either way c: hope you’ve been well 💕

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ghost x Male!Reader: The FNG’s Impression

Trigger Warnings: untrusting feelings, is mostly a normal fic

Being the FNG to a new task force was typically always seen as a bad thing. The decisions made on the first mission is the one that makes that lasting impression on the entirety of the squad, so it usually makes them nervous and less rational. But not you. You have always made it out to prove your worth that you’re able to contribute and follow orders as they’re given. You proved several times that you weren’t some rookie who didn’t know jackshit with each new squad you worked with as you moved up in your ranks. So once you were assigned to Task Force 141 after Captain Price decided after the Hassan situation and betrayal of the former General, Shepherd, that it was time to beef up the squad a bit more.

Upon arrival at their current location, you made a quick effort to greet everyone before the debriefing. “Fuckin’ hell…so this is the guy I’m supposed to be on a duo mission with?” Simon mutters to Kyle as he stares at you. “Easy now, I’m sure he’ll be a good addition to the team.” Kyle says, uncrossing his arms to wave at you as you walk into the tent with Captain Price and Farah. “He doesn't seem trustworthy, something feels off about him.” Simon says, walking towards the barracks. “You’re being too judgemental mate! I know when we were working with Graves that suspicion wasn’t really there because he was Shepherd’s recommendation, but that’s all over now.” Kyle says, following behind him.

“Doesn’t matter. Someone with an extensive file like his being that chipper ain’t exactly a good thing.” Simon says. “The two of you taking the piss outta the new guy or something?” Johnny asks, sitting up once Simon flicked the lights of the barracks on. “Simon’s just being an old man and complaining about how the new guy doesn’t seem trustworthy.” Kyle says, shaking his head. “Aye, you think so? I kinda had the same feeling.” Johnny says, scratching his chin. “Really? Surprising—considering that’s how you were when you joined the team.” Kyle says, causing Johnny to scowl at him. “Away ‘n bile yer heid.” he says curtly. “What?” Kyle asks. “He said ‘Go fuck yourself,’ Kyle.” Simon says, a soft scoff escaping his lips.

Knowing full well it was a laugh, Johnny just grinned at him. “Oh shove it up yours MacTavish. You two are being a little harsh to him and all he said to you was ‘Hello, I can’t wait to work with you guys. Let’s be sure to do our best.’ Don’t you think we should, oh I don’t know, not be suspicious?” Kyle says. As he finishes saying that, they all immediately turn and look at the door as it opens and reveals you standing there. “Oh! You guys were probably talking about something private, I’ll head out and let you guys keep talking.” you say, freezing up. “No, no, it’s fine. We had just finished talking. Y/N, right? Nice to finally meet you.” Kyle says.

He walks over to you, that same friendly smile from earlier on his face as his hand extends towards you. “Nice to meet you too, Kyle. Hope to do my absolute best on this mission with Simon here.” you say, giving Simon a smile as you shake Kyle’s hand. “Call me Lieutenant. You and I aren’t on a first name basis.” Simon says coldly, his eyes narrowed as he glared daggers into you. “Alright Lieutenant. So, uh, is it okay if I can go to sleep here?” you ask. “Of course you can, you don’t have to ask us to go to sleep. What time are you two being dropped off?” Kyle asks. “We’re being dropped at 0600 sharp so I’m gonna get some rest before 0500 to be ready by then.” you say.

“You’re a meticulous one, aren’t you?” Johnny asks, causing you to look at him. “Well yeah I mean…it kinda comes with the field doesn’t it? No room for error.” you say. “And that’s what got you to provide good overwatch as a sniper?” Johnny asks again. “Oh yeah. Hopefully I’ll be able to be as good as the Lieutenant here. I really can’t wait for these next few months working with you all.” you say excitedly. “Don’t get too excited. We aren’t exactly sure what the two of us are getting into. Can you keep yourself level headed?” Simon asks. “I have a pretty good record for a reason, Lieutenant—my head’s as level as it’s gonna be.” you say. “Alright, I think I’m starting to like the new guy now. Welcome to the 141, Y/N.” Johnny says.

Soon enough after a bit more banter, all of you find yourselves getting to bed. Obviously still uneasy, Simon finds himself staying awake just a bit longer to make sure you don’t try and do anything whilst the others sleep. Once he sees you’re not thinking of trying anything, he eventually lets himself drift off to sleep until it was time to get up and head out for the mission in the morning. You’re obviously the first one to get up and ready, so when Simon feels you gently shaking him awake, it causes him to open his eyes out of a slight panic and tightly grip your wrist. “H-Hey! Easy now Lieutenant, you’re gonna break the hand I need!” you whisper yell. Simon then scowls at you through the darkness, letting go of your wrist.

You rub at it to relieve some of the remaining pain and pressure, walking out to the weapons wall to get your assigned sniper rifle and pistol, both of which are already equipped with suppressors. Simon eventually joins you, grabbing a suppressed pistol and automatic rifle. “Let’s do some good work out there, Lieutenant.” you say, giving him a friendly bump on the shoulder before you walk towards the hangar. Simon just groans and follows after you begrudgingly. He was most certainly not looking forward to these next few months with you, especially not the first day of your mission. He felt like you were an annoyance by how friendly you were making yourself out to be and he honestly just wasn’t having it.

You didn’t talk to him the entire time you waited to be dropped off by Nikolai, wanting to keep yourself calm and collected. Once you were dropped off, Nikolai bid the both of you farewell and wished you luck. “Bravo 0-7 and 3-6 this is Watcher-1. How copy?” a woman’s voice, one of which you recognized as C.I.A agent Kate Laswell, asks through the comms. “This is Bravo 0-7. We’ve landed in the DZ and are ready for infil.” Simon says, making you excited and ramped up for this first mission. “On your TacMap are all six buildings you’ll need to infiltrate to find any and all information that’ll help us get our leads on Makarov. Luckily for you, there aren’t many guards patrolling the compound—make your way in and use what little darkness you have left to ensure your safety. If you’re compromised you’ll need to make your way to the EZ where Nikolai will come and get you.” Laswell says. “Understood.” Simon acknowledges.

You make your way to your designated slope that provides overwatch for a good 85% of the area, hunkering down and hoping your ghillie suit ensures you’re well camouflaged. “Alright, C/S. I don’t reckon you’ll make a good impression on Price and Laswell if you so let me get a scratch by not doing your job. On my signal, you’ll take out any and all guards that are surrounding me, got it?” Simon says into the comms. “Yes, Lieutenant Ghost. I won’t let a single one come near you—I’ll alert you if I see any you can’t and take them out before they get to you.” you reassure. “Take out the guards in the North and South outposts. Know how many notches that’ll be?” Simon asks, questioning your ability and knowledge. “Three and a half notches for both. I’m taking the shots now.” you say. Holding your breath to keep your aim steady, you first take your shot at the guard stationed south before taking out the one up north.

Mildly impressed by this, Simon takes note of your clear ability to follow orders and prove your intelligence. “I’m moving to building Alpha. Do you see any guards I should be aware of?” he asks. “Negative, you’re clear to move in.” you say. You keep your eye on Simon, watching him scale the building through the windows. “See anything in there Lieutenant?” you ask softly. “Negative. Is there anyone coming near Alpha, Sergeant?” Simon asks. “Not a thing, you’re clear to move out now.” you reassure. This then goes on for the rest of the morning, with you both having to take extra precautions now that the sun has come up.

At this point, Simon’s become impressed by you, but now he thinks you’re being a bit of a kiss-ass. “Is this really how you act all the time?” he asks rudely as you wait at the EZ for Nikolai to arrive. “It’s how I am with people I haven’t worked or met with yet—like you guys. Once I’m closer to people is when I start to kind of act like a dick.” you say. “That right?” Simon asks, shaking his head. “What, don’t believe me?” you ask, crossing your arms as you sling your sniper on your shoulder. “Not at all. I better see that exact behavior then the further along you and I keep going on these missions.” Simon says. You grin at him, crossing your arms against your chest. “I think you’re warming up to me, Lieutenant Ghost.” you say cheekily. “And I think I should kick you in the ass so hard you feel my boot in your throat.” Simon says just as cheekily through his normally gruff voice.

After this, the months would come to pass more and more as you got closer to getting a proper lead on Makarov. The both of you were forced to go radio silent together, as there was a risk that the whole operation would be compromised. This left you less monitored during subsequent missions and you’d come to prove that you were more than capable of saving Simon’s ass because that’s all you did. Sure, he’s saved yours a couple of times, however it was mostly you making sure he didn’t so much as get a single scratch on him. You’d also, in turn, begun to treat him like you said you would; a complete dick. Simon liked that, as he figured that it suited you a lot more than trying to be some kiss-ass.

“Ghost, C/S, good to see you lads again.” Price says as the two of you finally walk onto the base of operations they were using. “Good to see you too, Captain. We got a proper lead on Makarov now,” you say as you hand over a manila folder containing all the information regarding the information you and Simon spent months getting. “So, how was he?” Price asks, looking at Simon after scanning the contents of the folder for a bit. “I’d say he’s a right good fellow. Perfect fit for the 141.” Simon says, making you content. “And how was it with Simon?” Price asks you this time. “All I can say is that the old dog’s got some soft spots in him. Couple blind spots too, think he needs to get his eyes checked.” you joke, making Simon elbow you in the ribs. “Easy now, pup, I reckon I can still kick your ass.” he says.

“Simon! Y/N! How the hell did you guys find where we were? The two of you went radio silent on us.” Kyle says, going and shaking your hand. “Ah, we just followed the North Star and managed to find you guys.” you say sarcastically. “Haha, very funny Y/N,” Kyle says, rolling his eyes as a smile crosses his face. “Has he taken a liking to you yet? It took him a bit to take a liking to Johnny and I.” he asks. “Oh yeah. Surely enough I’ll get him to be completely smitten.” you say, playfully nudging at Simon. “You’re not my type.” he says, crossing his arms. You could tell he’s smiling a little behind his balaclava, and it makes you glad to have gained his trust. “Well then, mI’ll be putting the two of you on more missions together.” Price says, nodding at you both before walking away.

Kyle follows after him, leaving you and Simon alone. “Honestly I can’t fathom the thought of you taking a liking to me. I’m pretty sure you don’t even have a heart.” you say, starting to walk away from Simon. “Oh I have a heart all right, I just keep it frozen and locked in a box.” Simon says as he follows after you. “Sounds like something out of those freak shows they show on tv.” you say, laughing a bit. “Careful, that might just be you someday.” Simon jokes. “What’s that supposed to mean, Lt.?” you ask, no longer walking. Simon simply goes quiet and keeps walking once you stop walking. “Hey! What the hell’s that supposed to mean?!” you exclaim.

[writtenjewels]

Sleepless

Jason really wished he could blame his nature as a night owl for the fact he was still awake. But tonight, there was a different sort of energy coursing through his veins. The kind that made his body tense and his heart to jump at shadows. His fingers twitched with the urge to turn on a lamp. He was a fucking full-grown adult and he wanted a night-light!

A door opened and Salim stepped out. The older man was dressed in a simple shirt and sweatpants, his face relaxed in that half-awake way. He stifled a yawn before turning his gaze on Jason. Jason had seen many different expressions on the older man, but grumpy was definitely a new one. The guy was clearly not a night person.

“Jason? It's almost three in the morning.”

���I can't fuckin' sleep,” Jason complained. He didn't mean to sound so angry, but seeing Salim much better rested just made Jason more pissed at himself. The dark isn't bothering him! Salim stared at him for a moment, then padded to the kitchen. “Uh, the fuck are you doin'?”

“Making tea.”

“I don't need any fuckin' tea,” Jason argued. “I'm fine.” Salim gave him a skeptical look. “Oh, fuck off,” Jason growled. “Go back to sleep and leave me alone.”

“I wasn't asleep,” Salim argued. “I was tossing and turning. It was how I noticed you were pacing around.” Jason opened his mouth and closed it again. “The tea is as much for me as for you,” Salim went on.

“So... you can't sleep either?” Jason asked, his voice dropping to a more subdued tone.

“No.” Salim had his back to Jason as he measured out the water. “It's too dark.”

“Oh.” Well, great, he felt like shit now for getting angry earlier. “Yeah. That place really fucked us up. Sorry,” he added. “I thought I woke you up.”

“Now we can be awake together,” Salim said with a shrug. He set the kettle to boil. Jason moved to join him in the kitchen. “It's chamomile,” Salim told him.

“Thanks.”

“I have your back, jarhead, whatever happens.”

Jason felt his throat close up. He said something like that down in the House of Ashes. The words meant so much more than they seemed, even then.

Salim passed him a mug when the tea was ready. The two of them sat side by side to drink the tea. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep getting to him, but Jason thought that Salim's presence was better than any light.

[amazingmsme]

Wake Up (Proto)Call

AN: FINALLY, MY FIRST NPMD FIC!!! Been wanting to write this since I saw it, the brainrot is strong with this one. Just some Spankoffski bros fluff ft. Steph. This fic was an absolute blast to write! This trio literally own my heart now, wtf. Here’s day 29!

Ted walked down the hall toward's Peter's closed door, hands shoved deep in his pocket. He barely gave a knock before opening it.

"Hey Pete, got a min- oh. Well hello." Ted stood in the doorway awkwardly, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

Stephanie Lauter looked about the same, sitting on the leaning against the headboard with a book in hand and Peter napping in her lap. A blush quickly spread across her cheeks as a teasing smirk tugged on his lips. She gave a shy wave.

"Um, hi."

Ted walked into the room, milling about as he inspected his brother's shelves of action figures, comics and other nerdy memorabilia. He held a hand out for her to shake.

"I'm Ted, Pete's older brother." She arched a brow, but didn't shake his hand. He held his hands up in surrender. "Too cool for a handshake, hey, I get it." This seemed to snap her out of it.

"No! It's not that, you just- caught me off guard is all."

Ted gave her a skeptical, albeit amused look. "Mmhmm." He turned his back to her and grabbed a stack of comics. "I owe him 20 bucks now, so thanks a lot." Steph scoffed.

"Excuse me?" she asked incredulously, setting her book aside.

"I thought he was full of shit when he said he was meeting the mayor's daughter at Pasquale's, so obviously I made a bet," he explained as he started to sift through the stack. It was Stephanie's turn to smirk.

"And obviously you lost."

Ted snorted, but didn't pay her much attention beyond that. Steph frowned. "You know he's really particular about his stuff, right?" Ted turned around on his heels, bending at the waist to get closer to her height.

"Seeing as I've known him since birth, uh, yeah I do, lil miss," he snarked. Steph glared at him and flipped him off.

"Don't fucking call me that. I'm sure Peter doesn't want you snooping around his room anyway," she sassed back, crossing her arms, careful not to jostle Peter as he slept.

Ted rolled his eyes, somehow putting his whole body into it. "Yeah I was hoping he'd be gone, but asleep is the next best thing," he said, turning back to face her. "If you must know, I'm just trying to keep track of everything he's got. All this junk looks the same to me, and I can't just ask what he doesn't have, 'cause then he'll know what I'm getting him-" he started rambling.

Steph's expression softened into a grin. "His birthday's still a month away."

"Yeah, and I'm running out of time," he mused, setting the comics back where he got them. He even made sure they were ordered correctly, Stephanie noticed. He glanced at her, looking as though he wanted to say something. Stephanie scoffed and looked him up and down. "What?"

"I really wanna do this thing, but if I do Pete's probably gonna be pissed," he said, mischievous eyes glued to his brother's sleeping form. Mischief came off of him in waves Steph hummed as she reached for her book again.

"Then you probably shouldn't do it."

Ted took one step closer to the door, but meandered his way back to the side of the bed.

"Oh but it's a tradition. You see, it was always my job to wake him up for school, dude sleeps like a fuckin' log-" he started. Steph frowned and shook her head, a hand carding through his long hair.

"Don't wake him up, he's tired. I told him he could nap."

"Yeah but he has a guest over, and that shit's just flat out rude in my opinion. Besides, I think you'd really like it," he said the last bit in a singsong tone. She rolled her eyes and returned to her book.

"I'm serious, don't bother him." Then quieter, she added, "He's cute while he sleeps." He made a gagging motion while she was distractedly looking down at Peter, stopping right before she looked back at him.

Ted turned around in "defeat" and headed to the door, muttering, "Even cuter when he's being tickled." Now that got her attention.

"What?"

Her tone was joyous and inquisitive and when Ted looked at her, she had an evil smile spreading across her face. That's more like it.

Ted sauntered back, sitting on the bed next to his brother. "Oh yeah, one thing you need to know about my lil bro is that he's like, crazy ticklish. Seriously, you're welcome, I just gave you the key to getting anything you want from him," he chuckled, only have joking.

Steph was looking at her boyfriend in a new light. "Thank you. That is... very intriguing information."

Ted made a show of cracking his knuckles as he spoke, "This is one of the only ways to actually get him up. Yeah an alarm will wake him up, but he won't actually get outta bed, ya know?" He was hunched over Peter's sleeping frame with hands hovering over his torso. He gave her a sly grin. "I don't get to do this as often as I used to, so I'll take any chance I can get."

Steph giggled and ducked her head, "I don't blame you."

Peter was laying on his side with his head resting on Steph's thighs, his knees tucked close to his chest. Ted started poking up and down his side, slow at first but gaining speed as he went. To Stephanie's delight, sleepy giggles slipped past his lips as he began to stir.

Sporadic poking turned to scribbling and the small huffs of laughter grew more consistent. His hands swatted blindly at offending ones, but lacked the strength or accuracy to protect himself.

"C'mon Pete, time to wake up," he cooed, one hand trailing up to scribble at his neck. A tiny squeal slipped out as Peter scrunched his neck, burying his face in the flannel tied around Steph's waist.

"Tehed leave mehehe alooone," he whined in his half asleep state. It took a second for his foggy brain to connect the dots, but once they did he was wide awake. He shot up so fast it startled both of them, Steph even letting out a startled squeak. "TED WHAT THE FUCK? GET OUTTA MY ROOM!" he yelled and pointed at the door, face quickly turning red.

Ted sat on the edge of the bed, completely frozen with his hands in the air as if he'd been caught by the police. He was fighting off his own laughter, mouth gaping open in shock at the outburst. Shock quickly gave way to amusement.

He wore a sly yet somehow sheepish grin as he looked at Stephanie. "I promise he usually isn't like this," he joked, shooting her a wink.

"GET OUT!" Peter repeated, using his long legs to his advantage, kicking his brother in the back to shove him off the bed. Ted stumbled to his feet, giving his brother a bewildered look. What the hell was his deal? Oh right, they weren't alone.

"Alright aright, I'm leaving," he admitted defeat. He only made it two steps before Stephanie spoke up.

"No you aren't." Peter stared at his girlfriend, a look of utter betrayal in his face. Ted's brows furrowed in confusion as he turned back around.

"I'm not?"

"Yeah, he's not?"

"Ted here was just about to give a detailed demonstration on all your tickle spots," she said, so matter of factly. Both Spankoffski brothers scoffed in shock before she continued, "Weren't you?" She looked at Ted expectantly, cocking her head to the side. There was something almost... challenging in her eyes. As if she dared him not to comply to her demands.

"I wasn't planning on it, but if you insist!" It took little to no convincing for Ted to take the golden opportunity presented here.

"No wait!" Peter protested, about to bolt off the bed when a hand around his wrist pulled him back. His nervous smile grew wider by the second. "Steph, let go."

"No," she said, an evil grin firmly in place. She snatched for his other wrist, and he moved it out of reach just in time. He held his arm out to the side as far as he could while Stephanie stretched across him, trying to grab him. She took the cheaters way out in the end and scribbled in his exposed armpit, causing him to slam his arm against his side for protection, a bark of laughter escaping past his lips. She easily caught his wrist and pulled both of his arms above his head.

"Thanks for being so cooperative babe," she said and Peter rolled his eyes.

"You're not welcome," he snarked.

"I'd be nicer if I were you. She doesn't look like she holds back," Ted chuckled as he sat on his ankles to keep him in place. Peter kicked and tugged on his legs, but they remained firmly trapped.

"C'mon guys, this isn't funny!"

"Really? Then why're you laughing?"

"But I'm not-" Peter was cut off with a shriek when Ted struck, squeezing his younger brother's boney knees. He yanked his arms down, catching Steph off guard with the level of strength he displayed. His hands immediately moved to cover his face and clamp over his mouth.

"Oh yeah, forgot to warn you, he's stronger than he looks," Ted added casually, as if he wasn't making Peter scream with laughter. "But knees: major weak spot." Steph nodded in understanding as she wrestled Peter's arms into her hold once more.

"Ohoho you're one toho tahahahalk!" he managed through his laughter.

"This isn't about me though, is it? Nooo, it's about you," he emphasized his point with a poke to his tummy, making him try to curl in on himself with a squeak. Ted continued, "Anyway, his belly's also pretty bad," he noted, forming a claw with his hand and hovered it in the air. Peter saw what he was doing and shook his head frantically.

"NO! Tehehed Ihihi'll kihihill you!" he threatened through giddy, nervous giggles. His older brother merely shrugged.

"I'd like to see you try," he said, not quite as condescending as usual.

Steph had had enough just watching and shifted his hands under her legs so she could join the fray. She looked at Ted expectantly.

"Where should I start?" she asked, smiling at the indignant cry Peter let out. Ted chuckled in amusement.

"Well he's ticklish just about anywhere, so knock yourself out," he encouraged, ignoring the indignant protest that mingled with Peter's laughter.

"Yeah, but what's a good spot?" she pressed further, seemingly unsatisfied with the vague answer.

"Well if you wanna hear the cutest giggles ever then go for his neck. Oh! And if you scratch at this one spot behind his ears he'll snort really loud, it's hilarious!"

"TEHEHED! Shut thehehe fuck uhup!" he shrieked, his cheeks taking on a dark pink hue from the flustering conversation taking place overhead.

"Wow, is that how you talk to your brother?" Steph asked in a taunting tone. Peter shook his head, babbling protests spilling from his mouth as she skittered her nails over his neck. Ted really wasn't kidding: this was probably the cutest sound she'd ever heard her boyfriend make. She was smiling down at him, her grin stretched from ear to ear as she scribbled her nails just behind his ears.

Peter snorted and tried hiding his face in the crook of his arm, but it still left half of it exposed for Steph's viewing pleasure.

“Oho my God, that’s so cute!” she exclaimed, leaning so far into his personal space they nearly touched noses. Ted fake gagged behind her back, for no one’s benefit but his own. “Do it again,” she ordered, using both hands to scratch at that spot.

A loud squeal was abruptly cut off by a giggly snort, and Peter turned a shade darker.

“Steheheph nohoho!” he whined, kicking his legs futilely where they remained pinned.

“Steph yes!” he cried, ducking down to blow a raspberry on his neck. Peter threw his head back, wild cackles filling the air. Ted leaned back, looking impressed and proud.

“Wow, and I didn’t even have to tell you about that!” he teased, reaching out to tweak Peter’s hips. He yelped, twisting side to side.

When Steph blew the third raspberry, Ted decided to show a little mercy. He grabbed a lock of Stephanie’s long hair, giving a few gentle tugs to get her attention, “Hey, we wanna keep him alive, yeah?” Steph looked over her shoulders, leveling him with a harsh glare as she yanked her hair back.

“You do?” Peter asked breathlessly from where he laid beneath his tormentors. They both chuckled and finally relented.

“Mhm,” Ted hummed cheerfully, standing up from the bed and dusting himself off.

“You got a funny way of showin’ it.”

“Hey, what’re brothers for?” he asked with a shrug. He held his hand out for a fist bump. Peter scoffed, looked at the hand, then at his brother. He sighed in defeat and gave him a fist bump. He turned back towards the door, ready to leave for real this time, when he was stopped once again by a familiar voice.

“I’ll get you back you know!”

Ted stopped in the doorway, one arm resting against the frame as he casually leaned on one foot. Peter was sitting up now, leveling him with a determined stare. It was a look Ted had seen before. He smirked; Peter rarely followed through on his threats.

“Yeah? I’d like to see you try,” he said, classic condescending snark returning to his tone. He turned back around, only taking one step before another voice spoke up.

“He’s a lot braver now, you know.”

Ted spun around on his heels, retort ready on the tip of his tongue when he saw his brother standing by his bed, a confident smirk on his face.

Ted’s own cocky smile faltered into something a bit more nervous. He took a step back, holding his hands out in front of him.

“Hang on now, Pete. W-wait!”

Peter cocked his head, like Ted had done so many times at him. Well shit.

“Why would I do that?”

Ted saw movement from the corner of his eye and noticed Steph also stand.

“Hey, I helped you!”

“Actually, I asked for a comprehensive list of his tickle spots, and IIII don’t knooow… that didn’t seem like a fully comprehensive list to me.”

That little bitch!

Ted scoffed, “Did you just use me to get your way?”

Steph wore a truly radiant smile. “Get used to it.”

Ted took another step back. “I had to leave you some surprises!” he defended himself, shrieking when Peter lunged at him. He just barely escaped when Peter caught him by the shirt, sprinting out of his grasp. His celebration was short lived when he was tackled to the ground.

“Oh Ted, I bet you thought this day would never come. But it’s about damn time you had a taste of your own medicine.”

He could never take what he dished out.

[shutit-haha]

Wolf Bakugo pt.1

Hybrid AU (As much as I enjoy reading about Bull Bakugo, I'm gonna keep the training wheels on for now.) THERE ARE NO QUIRKS

You met each other amidst an awful storm. The snow stung as it whipped against your skin, you were freezing despite all the coverings and still had to complete the walk home. You weren't the only one though.

"Fuck you I'm licensed," it was a nasty snarl. Something loud and startling within the silence of the storm. It took you a moment to find where it was coming from, blurry white darts obscuring your vision. You found him though, with eyes like those it was hard to hide. Ash blonde, quite large, and a scowl to match his harsh tone of voice. He was decked out in winter attire; pair of gloves, tightly wrapped scarf, layered coat and jackets, nice pair of boots.

"Yeah, well we'll see about that," this voice belonged to a much smaller frame. You wondered how he could be so arrogant when he was clearly outmatched, until your eyes caught on to his utility belt. He was a 'catcher' his belt was filled with things to immobilize men like the blonde.

"Dammit," he gritted his teeth. "You just can't see the collar cause of the scarf." He was tugging at the fabric now, yanking roughly at the deep green. For some odd reason it wouldn't budge, he tugged and tugged at the knot yet it wouldn't unravel. (Must of been some outstanding knot tying skills on his part.)

"I'm gonna need you to lose that hostility," the officer reached for something.

As a kid you always had the bad habit of jumping in the way to take the hit for your friends. Some of them just couldn't fight and well you had to take a punch before you could throw one. (Unfortunately.) This man had no relation to you, had done nothing kind, hadn't even looked in your direction. He had no idea you were there. And yet you were darting across the street, haphazardly looking for cars, and jumping in the way.

"He's mine!" One hand was extended out to the officer, the other near the hybrid. You were careful not to actually touch the bulky blonde, fearing what may happen if you do. "He-he's mine."

The officer eyed the two of you skeptically before pocketing whatever it was he had just reached for. "Paperwork?"

"I left it at home," you dropped your arms to your sides.

"You do know it's a crime to lie to people like me don't you?"

"They said they left the papers at home," that was the hybrid with the crimson eyes. "And I'm telling you," he tugged off his scarf. "I'm licensed," there was his shiny tag dangling from his collar.

The officer huffed, "you outa keep him leashed."

You backed up slightly, feeling oddly offended by his statement. The blonde just huffed and rolled his eyes. "You have a good day sir," you didn't smile.

"You too," neither did he.

"I didn't need your help," a low growl from behind you while he ties his scarf again.

You turn to face him, "yeah I know but-"

"I'm not some defenseless pup," his canines are long and white.

"I'm aware however-"

"And I wasn't fuckin' lying about being licensed," he shoves his gloved hands into his pockets.

"If you would let me speak than you'd know I just did it to be nice," you snapped at him. What the hell was up with this dude? You were then taken aback that pissed you off way to fucking quickly, he clearly was skilled at being a nag. "Although now I'm regretting it," you sighed. "I wasn't even expecting a thank you but now I want one."

"Not happening."

"Yeah I figured," you rolled your eyes.

"Hah!? The hell's that supposed to mean!?"

He was emotionally draining, this interaction alone required too much patience. "It was awful meeting you," you turn away from him then.

Except remember I had said it was cold, well the weather has a way of messing with the human body.

Your knees buckled underneath you before slamming against the icy ground, your teeth were still chattering and a harsh shiver racked through you. "Dammit," the hybrid again. This guy. "You're gonna freeze your ass out here, lose all your fingers." He grumbled as his hand gripped at your elbow to pull you back onto your feet. "Where the hell do you live," his tone threw off that whole sentence.

"You don't have to walk me home."

"Yeah I fucking do," why did it sound like he didn't want to do it?

"I can get there by myself," you used him to steady yourself. You really could get home on your own...in a minute or two. He was firm under your grip, and felt warm, oh so warm. Without thinking you swayed into him, resting against him at a peculiar angle.

"Says the dipshit who- Hey keep your eyes open!"

"I'm not dying," you moved away from him slowly. Ok so maybe you were a little sluggish, but that was only because of all that adrenaline you had just moments ago.

"Come on, dammit." He dragged you along behind him, grumbling the whole way. Obediently you followed, not realizing you hadn't given him your address until you were already at the door.

[destielwarmsthecocklesofmyheart]

1.05-Bloody Mary

I remember this being the first one that actually creeped me out

I still feel uneasy around mirrors in the dark lol the only thing that makes me feel better is that I don’t have some dark secret where someone died

Not ashamed to admit I’m definitely not watching the parts with mirrors.

Again, Sam… rude. How is winning money in a poker game NOT earning it?

And look.. I’m a huge skeptic… HUGE… but excuse me ma’am, even I’m not gonna fuck around in the mirror just to find out. Nope no thanks see ya later.. dumb

Hehe 2005 research… I feel old

Jfc yall… I still have some birthday decorations hanging from the ceiling from my 5 year old’s party and one caused a shadow on a picture and I almost pissed myself lol

also their little voices. So high pitched lol

Oh no he’s saying it… here she comes

I hate it

the way they have certain monsters move in early seasons.. so. fuckin. creepy.

ugh

haha oh right.. I forgot how they got rid of her.. clever

Oh hey jess… funny how we see Dean do the same thing with Cas when he’s mourning.. but Dean totes didn’t love Cas.. nope just best buds fo sho

[wisteria-cherry]

forty days and forty nights (day fourteen!)

(two weeks woah)

(and don’t forget to comment!! i love interacting with u guys, it makes me day :))

the outing with mina went exceedingly well. there was never a lack of conversation, and it turned out that both of you enjoyed each other’s company. of course, it was hard not to enjoy mina’s company— her energy was contagious.

you told her about how bakugo had come into the shop injured (“who does that?!”) and she’d laughed, seemingly curious. she then told you that he prioritized self care because he knew he couldn’t be a hero if he was injured, and she too found it off that he came into the store before getting treated. the two of you couldn’t find a reason as to why he did such a thing (although mina insisted it’s because he liked you).

you were still pondering this when the familiar sound of the bells startled you out of your thoughts. you frowned. it was bakugo.

“shouldn’t you be at home, getting rest?” your brow furrowed. “you’re still hurt, y’know.”

“i wanted coffee.” bakugo grunted.

“i oughta not sell you anything.” you huff. “and make you go home and rest.”

“i’m fine, dumbass.” bakugo rolled his eyes. “fuckin’ drama queen.”

“fine.” you exhale. “medium black coffee.”

“finally.”

minutes later, when you give him his coffee, you decide to ask one more time, just to make sure.

“…are you sure you’re ok-“

“yes, i’m fine, holy shit.” bakugo interrupted. “piss off already.”

“oh. okay.” you chewed on your lip anxiously.

“…”

“are you-“

“yes.”

“okay.” you take a deep breath. “well… how was work?”

“didn’t work today.” bakugo grunted. “shitty doctors wanted me to rest.”

“and you still came here?” you arch an eyebrow.

“drinking coffee ain’t the same as beating the shit out of villains.” bakugo scoffed. “in case you haven’t noticed.”

“i guess that’s fair.” you agree reluctantly.

“the hell’re you so worried for, anyway?” bakugo glared.

“you’re my friend.” you shrug. “and you’re hurt. not a good mix.”

“tch. worrywart.” he rolled his eyes.

“it’s for good reason.”

“whatever.”

the two of you fell into silence. however, you were beginning to notice something— the silence, at least in your eyes, was more comfortable than it once was. the sort of silence between two people content with simply being in one another’s presence.

but there was still a little bit of awkwardness.

“tell me about the villain.” you prompt. “that did this.” bakugo blinked.

“what, you think you’re gonna go beat ‘im up?” bakugo snorted. “in your dreams, dumbass.”

“i’m just curious is all.” you laugh. “i don’t do violence, trust me.”

“‘course you don’t. you work at a coffee shop.” bakugo scoffed. “i’d take you down in less than a second.”

“sure.” you agree skeptically.

“don’t gimme that shit!” bakugo roared. “i can and i will! fight me, right now! i’ll kill you!”

“if you kill me,” you remind him calmly, “i can’t make your coffee.”

“i’ll just—“ bakugo angrily and frantically looked for an alternative, taken aback by your retaliation. “—have someone else do it! you’re not the only damn employee!”

“i’m your favorite.” you joke lightheartedly. bakugo only tches.

“whatever. you’re off the hook. for now.” he grumbled.

“good to hear.” you pause for a moment. “hey, bakugo.”

“what?”

“don’t come in hurt like that again.” you say. you pause again. that sounded kind of rude. “please.” yeah, good save.

“i’m not even that hurt.” bakugo scowled.

“i should’ve called an ambulance.”

“quit overreacting, geez. i don’t need a goddamn ambulance.” he rolled his eyes.

“fine.” you huff. “but if that happens again—“

“it won’t, god!”

“…promise?” you ask quietly. yes, you joked about it, but it really had been a scare to see him like that. bakugo seemed to pick up on that, and he sighed.

“yeah, yeah, promise.” he relented.

“thanks.”

“so…” you speak after a brief moment of quiet. “when do you go back to work?”

“tomorrow.” he answered sourly. “i wanted to work today, but the fuckers wouldn’t let me.”

“really?” you grin. “bakugo, are you a workaholic?”

“no.” bakugo tched. “i just work hard. i can take breaks when i need to, dumbass.”

“like the party.” you confirmed.

“yeah, that.” bakugo snorted. “didn’t even wanna go to the stupid thing.”

“then why did you?” you blink.

“already told ya. none of your damn business.”

“right, right, secrets.” you grin. “so mysterious.”

“whatever. i’m allowed to have secrets, dumbass.” bakugo glared, to which you only smiled.

“i know you are.” you reassured him. “but i think it’s funny that such a trivial question gets you all defensive.”

“i’m not defensive!” bakugo snapped (defensively). “you’re just nosy as fuck!”

“sorry!” you laugh. “i’m just curious!”

“you’re a dumbass, you know that?” bakugo rolled his eyes.

“only for you.” you tease, to which bakugo only huffed. “hey, you never did tell me about that villain.”

“tch. if it’ll get you off my back about the damn party, then fine.” he agreed reluctantly. “his quirk had something to do with blades. tons of ‘em, kinda like whips. pain in the ass to dodge.”

“that sounds scary.” you remark.

“scary?” bakugo looked up from his coffee to meet your gaze. “i wasn’t scared.”

“you weren’t?” it was impressive. you already knew that if you encountered someone like that, you’d be shaking.

“naw. it was nothing.” bakugo looked back to his coffee. “‘sides, that was one of the first things we learned at ua. fear’s a luxury pros can’t afford, or some shit.”

“fear is a luxury.” you repeat, pondering it for a moment. “i’ve never thought of it that way.”

“‘course you haven’t. you’re a civilian. you get to be scared ‘cuz you’ve got heroes to protect ya.” bakugo grunted. “i’m one of the protectors. i’m the protector.”

“that’s.. kind of sad,” you admit. “not being allowed to be scared.” bakugo snorted.

“like hell i’m scared.” bakugo smirked. “villains don’t scare me.”

“what does scare you, then?” you lean on the counter curiously. bakugo seemed to do a double-take.

“the hell d’you mean?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“what’re you scared of?” you shrug.

“that’s not your business either.” bakugo narrowed his eyes as he gripped the handle of his coffee mug tighter, promptly closing himself off. you figured this was fair. it’d only been two weeks since you met, obviously there are going to be boundaries.

“right, my bad.” you smile. “if it helps for anything, i’m scared of spiders.”

“spiders?” bakugo gave you a look of pure scorn. “they’re tiny. why the hell would you be afraid of them?”

“they’re creepy.” you huff. “with all their legs and eyes.”

“yeah, sounds terrifying.” bakugo smirked. he was mocking you. the nerve.

“hey, don’t mock me!” you pout. “that’s not fair. at least i’m sharing.”

“i don’t have to share if i don’t want to.” bakugo flipped you off. you, being the bigger person and more mature of the two stuck your tongue out at him.

“what’re you, a kid?” bakugo snickered.

“no, i’m offended by your crude obscenities.” you inform him.

“yeah, well, get used to it.” bakugo now flipped you off with both hands for good measure.

“i oughta kick you out. the customers will be horrified.” you tease.

“you won’t.” bakugo grinned maliciously. “you’re lucky to have me at this place.” you roll your eyes.

“you’re so humble, bakugo,” you tell him sarcastically.

“i don’t need to be humble. i’m the goddamn best.” his insufferable smirk widened.

“i should’ve known.” you sigh dramatically. “what have i gotten myself into.”

“buckle up.” bakugo grinned viciously. “you’re with the pros now. no goin’ back.”

“in your dreams, dumbass.”

tags: @k0z3me @cherryblossomclarity

[moniheartsluffy]

THICKER THAN BLOOD

PART ONE : misses on a mission!

content warning: fluff(?), profanity usage, platonic use of pet names (sunny, my girl, etc), not really proofread so beware of grammar mistakes…BLACK!FEM!READER

synopsis: the uzui’s get requested for a infiltration mission but this may be more than what they bargained for…

characters: tengen, makio, hinatsuru, and suma.

notes: this does contain some modern aspects that have been intertwined with the past of the taisho era…so just roll with it. also lowercase is intended.

[before the infiltrating the yoshiwara district]

in your eyes this was a normal day, waking up to makio yelling at suma who accidentally knocked something over or whatever happened…you were just exhausted.

‘hell, ion blame her, it’s 7 in the morning on our day off.’ you thought to yourself as you walked from out of your room to the main living room. hina was the first to notice when you walked in, makio and suma still in the midst of arguing.

“good morning [name]! hope you slept well.” she said with a small apologetic smile.

“morning hina.” you say letting out a yawn which, surprisingly, caught the attention of the other two women in the room.

“oh, good morning sunny!” suma says smiling with a pillow in her hand to block whatever makio was trying to throw at her.

“hi [name]...sorry for waking you.” makio says in an apologetic tone.

“let’s go get you some breakfast. mmkay?” hinatsuru says with her signature smile.

“yeah, sound nice. you guys should come too, i’m pretty sure you’re hungry.” i say trying to discreetly diffuse the situation going on in the living room. the four of us went into the kitchen to make breakfast. the calm atmosphere allowed my brain to fully awaken and think for a moment. i let my thoughts run wild while mixing up the dough and then realize someone was missing…

“where’s tengen?” i ask the three woman. ‘i know his supersonic hearing ass ain’t sleep.’ you thought to yourself.

“he went to meet with master. he should be back shortly.” makio stated while focusing on her task.

you hummed in satisfaction at her response, soon enough breakfast was ready and tengen eventually returned. although, he seemed a bit off but it’s tengen…nothings ever normal with him. you just decide to brush it off for now trying to focus on other morning task. it wasn’t until you finished helping makio clean the kitchen when something dawned upon you…

‘i haven’t washed my hair in three weeks fuckin round wit tengen ass.’ you thought as you excused yourself from the older woman’s presence, he thought it would be good bonding to slay demons together, honestly you thought it was a good idea but for THREE weeks straight??!! hell nah. migrating to the bathroom to start washing your hair, by the grace of god the process seemed easier than normal and you were done rather quickly.

(ah shit sum bouta happen..)

you were then sitting on the floor, in front of a mirror with various hair products spread around you. after about 45 minutes of doing 2 different hairstyles which didn’t work out, you reasoned with putting your hair in one puff and swooping your edges.

(mood asf)

walking out into the living room you find the four adults staring at you. they then motion you to come sit down so they can explain what’s going on. skeptically you do as your asked and sit down.

“please don’t tell me you pissed off shinazugawa again.”

“HUH? if i did then he had it coming!”

“can you focus on what we’re supposed to be talking to her about.”

oh right, he almost forgot. he didn’t wanna tell you but he had to, he wanted you to know, you needed to know. as he was explaining everything, himself and the wives watched as your face contorted, indicating that you wanted to make a comment, but you held your tongue in order to hear the whole story.

(why did i make that so dramatic like it’s not that serious.)

“so you’re tellin me that master wants us to infiltrate the red light district because of the girls disappearing too often..?” you say looking up at the white haired man trying to make sense of the situation.

“yes, we suspect a demon is hiding amongst them. master requested for us specifically because of our previous background.” tengen stated calmly.

he learned that infiltration missions made you nervous. the lack of info and the endless amount of ‘what if’s’, it was easier to have a foundation of what you were dealing with but you wouldn’t know until you got there. it could be one of the 12 kizuki or a demon close in power, then there was the possibility of multiple demons working together, not to mention that this could be the last mission for all of you. as you were lost in thought, you barely heard tengen calling out to you trying to retrieve an answer.

“yo..[name]!” he said damn near yelling.

“damnit. yes?” you said looking over at him.

“you in or..?” he looked at you with a seemingly blank expression.

“sure am.” you said as a toothy grin made its way onto your face.

“that’s my girl.” tengen replied with a similar grin now on his face.

this is lowkey ass but it’s been sitting in the drafts for TOO LONG!! if you (somehow) did enjoy then thanks for reading!!

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

28 DAYS: CHAPTER FIVE

Summary: Dean Winchester is an addict and an alcoholic, a USMC veteran, a father, and an older brother. As Battalion Chief with Lawrence Fire & Medical, Dean comes under investigation when he makes a dangerous and impulsive decision, defying his superiors and abandoning the team he is supposed to lead. He is given a choice to go to rehab for 28 days or jail. His lawyer insists on rehab, and Dean begrudgingly abides.

Chapter Characters: Dean Winchester, Cain, Meg Masters, Billie (Pilgrim), Pamela Barnes, Crowley, Gabriel

Chapter warnings/tags: discussion of sex addiction

Words in the chapter: 2,900

Thank you and all my love to @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker

text divider by @talesmaniac89

CHAPTER FIVE

Dean’s fifth day in rehab sucks. Before his second cup of coffee can even settle with his bacon and eggs, Crowley glares at him from across the group meeting room, muttering to Rowena who seems to be working overtime to calm him.

“Why is he still here?” Crowley asks as Dean takes a seat between Meg and Pamela.

Cain, their long-suffering group facilitator, doesn’t miss a beat. “Reminder to please stick to I-statements and feeling words, please.” He balances his coffee on a stack of disorganized manila folders as he drags a chair around into the circle.

“Alright.” Crowley agrees, yet continues with his theatrics. “I am pissed that he’s still here.”

Cain is devoid of any elaborate reaction. He doesn’t groan or sigh or roll his eyes. He simply settles into his own seat and adjusts his glasses. “Why wouldn’t he be, Crowley?”

Crowley sniffs to beckon everyone’s attention before unhurriedly lowering to his chair. “Hear tell, pretty boy here was getting cozy with Constance in the kitchen yesterday night.”

Meg shoots Dean a questioning look, which Dean evades.

“Alliteration.” Dean nods, folding a piece of Juicy Fruit in thirds as he stuffs it in his mouth.

“Go fuck y’self, Romeo.”

“Gentlemen,” Cain interrupts their bickering to regain control of the group. “Dean, would you like to explain what happened with Constance?”

“Not particularly.” Dean snaps his gum. 

He tries to gauge Meg’s body language without overtly checking her out. She’s tucked one foot up under her other thigh and is hugging her cardigan tightly around herself. 

Cain sips his coffee. “OK, then, will you explain what happened with Constance? Or would you rather go to Billie’s office?” In his other hand, Cain thumbs through his phone.

Dean rolls his eyes. “I got more skin from the captain of the cheerleading squad in high school.”

Dean watches Meg’s top foot bounce nervously where it’s extended into the circle. He tilts his head and sees Pamela on his other side in a similar pose with less insecurity and more fury. He wants to tell them both that nothing happened.

“Well, I certainly didn’t see any skin,” Gabe asserts before tossing Dean a wink, which earns him a finger gun from Dean.

He may be getting iced out on both sides from Pamela and Meg, but maybe Gabe can back him up. He assumed Gabe had already told everyone. It wasn’t a big fucking deal.

“Why are you talking?” Crowley snarls in Gabe’s direction.

“Gentlemen!” Cain raises his voice as he pockets his phone. “Dean, what happened?”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Dean mutters, shifting in his seat to sit up. “Not that it’s anyone’s fuckin’ business — but, look at me, man. Bum shoulder, broken ribs, and a fucked up hip; how much can I violate the no fraternizing rule and still maintain my fuckin’ dignity? I kissed a hot, willing woman! Fuckin’ sue me.”

“You sure it was just a kiss?” Pamela asks.

When Dean meets her eyes, they’re filled with skepticism and resentment.

“I’m sure,” Dean appeals to her, and Pamela narrows her eyes to read what he isn’t saying.

Then Dean turns to Meg, who won’t look at him at all. She’s staring at her bouncing toes as she chews her bottom lip.

“Meg.” He speaks quietly, shuffling closer to her. “It wasn’t a big deal.” 

There’s some movement and murmuring in Dean’s periphery, across the circle. As Jack walks in late, Gabe catches him up on the drama. Dean ignores it because, for some brand new reason, Meg’s recognition means more to him than anyone else’s in the room.

When she finally looks up, she searches his face. Her eyes make his chest tight. 

Ten minutes ago, she and Pamela were planning snacks for the movie tonight and trying to get Dean to agree to them putting makeup on him after they finish with Jack. Now, Meg’s looking at him like he just spit in her face.

“I swear, it was just a kiss.”

Meg draws a deep breath and nods before unraveling a bit. 

Dean’s relief is minute but brief. He doesn’t want to hurt her or let her down. The fact that he’s starting to care about the people here in a meaningful way scares him, but he can’t think about that right now.

“What is fraternizing if it’s not kissing?!” Crowley practically shouts, and Dean’s hackles rise.

“How do you even know about it, ya little creep?” Dean turns to face Crowley across the circle. “The whole thing lasted less than five fuckin’ minutes. What’re you stalking me?”

“Dean.” Cain stands from his chair, setting his files and coffee aside as he gestures with his phone. “Pamela, will you please lead the group in a discussion of last night’s educational videos?”

Dean’s heart begins to race in his chest, looking up at Cain as he approaches him. “Man, I swear...”

Cain raises a hand and shakes his head. “Billie wants to see you.”

Dean breathes deeply as he stands to join the group facilitator. As they exit the room, Pamela leads the group on the talking points from the lecture the night before, but Dean still feels at least one pair of eyes at his back.

“Dude, I can’t get kicked outta here. They’ll send me to jail.”

“I have no control over that.” Cain stops in front of Billie’s door. “Only you and Billie do.”

Without them knocking, Billie answers the door. She seems unsurprised to see them, so Dean assumes that Cain called or texted her when Crowley was having a fit. They probably have a color code for idiots who fuck up on their fifth day.

“Gentlemen.” She nods. “Come in, Dean.”

Dean flicks one last pleading look to Cain who waves him inside Billie’s office, and Dean abides.

“So,” Billie motions toward her visiting area. “Tell me about the kitchen.”

Dean draws a deep breath of audacity to puff his chest. “Apparently it’s cozy.” 

Billie shoots him a look as she retrieves her notepad and pen, and his file. “Dean.”

Dean rolls his eyes and sighs, settling into one of Billie’s chairs. “It was nothing, I swear to god — a kiss. She might’ve grabbed my junk. No big deal.”

Billie’s eyebrows arch in unison as she takes the seat across from him. “Who initiated it?”

“Does it matter?” His heart is pounding against his rib cage. “Just tell me if this high school bullshit’s gonna send me to jail.”

“If what you’re saying is true, and it was nothing more than a kiss, that won’t send you to jail.”

Dean narrows his eyes and gnaws the inside of his cheek, holding her gaze. “Why does it matter who started it?”

“My question is to prompt discussion about what you wanted at that moment.”

It’d be great if he could trust Billie. Allegedly, she’s there to help him. Dean just isn’t sure he and Billie have the same idea of the help he needs. Nor is he sure the road to said help won’t fuck him in some other way.

“She’s a beautiful woman,” he murmurs. 

It’s true; Constance is gorgeous and tempting as fuck. In fact, his body very well may have betrayed his better angels had Gabe not shown up when he did. But Dean’s not about to admit that to Billie.

“So you approached her,” Billie assesses. 

Dean shakes his head sideways. “Didn’t say that.” 

“You didn’t answer my question, either.” Billie thoughtfully rolls her pen between her thumb and middle finger. “Look, it’s not a crime to find someone attractive.”

“No, but there’s a reason for the no-fraternizing rule, right?” Dean asks, and Billie nods. “OK, then, what is it?”

He knows the answer, but he’s curious how she’ll explain it to him. He might find something in her explanation to connect this incident to his innocence. He also might be stalling if for no other reason than to slow his heart rate.

Billie seems pleased by Dean’s question. “There are a few schools of thought. One is that you’re here to learn to adhere to structure and to follow laws and rules.”

Dean bobs his head. “Rules. Very important.”

Billie arches a brow and purses her lips. “Another idea is that sex and romance can distract from the main goal at hand. You’re here to get sober, not find a mate.”

“Right.”

“Now, my thought and the main philosophy of this facility is, the earliest stages of recovery from addiction are precarious and vulnerable. Therefore, we believe the capacity for consent is compromised.”

Dean nods, eyeing Billie closely. “What exactly constitutes fraternizing?”

“Tell me what happened, Dean.” Billie’s a brick wall as she waits.

Dean sighs and closes his eyes. “She was watchin’ me. She was... gettin’ off on watchin’ me. And she wanted to tell me about it.”

Billie nods, folding her pen away. “And h—”

“How did it make me feel?” he asks, looking Billie directly in the eye, and for the first time seeing who she really might be under layers of therapy licensing and propriety. 

Billie smiles and gives him a single nod.

“Turned on. Afraid,” he answers simply and honestly. 

Billie tilts her head. “Of what?”

Billie seems genuinely fascinated by Dean’s answer, which surprises him. Surely his file has informed her of his long and storied history of rule-breaking, but he doesn’t do it because he likes the consequences.

“Getting caught.”

“What else?” she asks.

“Nothin’ else,” Dean shrugs. “Why won’t you just tell me—”

“What about getting caught scares you?”

Dean stares at her for a long moment before his chest ignites and burns up to his cheeks. Billie doesn’t give a shit about the rules. He just figured that out. 

“Losing my daughter,” he admits. It’s this particular consequence that he’s afraid of, and that’s what she was getting at. 

Billie nods, opening her notepad with a pointed look. “Normally we’d spend our first week talking about your alcohol and drug use, but because of the incident with Constance, we’re going to move to sex at least for today.”

Dean glances at her notepad and snorts. “Gonna write a letter to Penthouse about it?”

She ignores his joke and scribbles a note before looking back up at him. “When was the last time you had sex within a committed relationship.”

Dean’s first thought is of Tessa, even though he’s never had sex with her. He doesn’t mention Tessa, though, or Casey, Lydia, or Lisa. He’s quickly realizing that sessions with Billie are, as he assumes any therapy to be, about discovery and process — all the shit that makes him tired from dancing around landmines of memories and emotions.

But he’s not too tired yet.

“Few weeks ago I played pinch hitter for a buddy whose wife had ‘always had a thing for me’. Turns out he did, too.”

Billie blinks patiently. “Your own committed relationship.” 

He shrugs. “Not sure. Been a while, though.”

“OK. How often do you engage in group sex?”

Dean’s jaw tightens. His attempt to derail her inquisition is now a bolt in her fucking quiver. He wonders if he’ll ever figure out how to get through these sessions with Billie without losing.

“Outta the frying pan…” he mutters. “You assume a lot.”

“Do I? You just told me about one instance as if it were commonplace.”

Dean has had a lot of threesomes — two girls, hetero couples looking to give their sex life some flavor, and whoever ends up at Gordon’s on a Saturday night. He’s had a lot of one-night stands, too, many more than he’s had committed relationships. He’s played Rebound Guy, the Other Guy, the Friend With Benefits, and the Guy You Use to Make Your Ex Jealous. 

“What’s your definition of a group?” 

This conversation could go so many different ways, and after handing Billie his threesome with Ketch and Toni, he doesn’t want to give her more ammunition. He might as well shut the hell up.

“Group sex is defined as an encounter that involves more than one sexual partner, whether casual or steady.”

“Yeah, well… that definitely happens.”

Billie nods. “Right. Has it ever happened when you didn’t plan for it to happen?”

“What, like Threesome Thursday gets bumped to Tuesday?” 

Billie remains quiet and still. She’s so fucking smug, it makes him nuts.

His frustration isn’t subsiding, and he’s running out of steam. “It’s not like I have a schedule.”

“So, yes, then.” She jots down some more fucking notes.

“Spontaneity’s the spice of life. Or is it variety? I dunno… I like sex, OK?”

“Do you always use protection?” Billie flicks her gaze back up to Dean.

He doesn’t want or need another kid. He’s contracted too many STIs, all curable and not life-threatening. So, yeah, he always tries to use protection.

“Yeah.”

She pauses and waits, holding his gaze, and his cheeks get hotter by the second. 

“Mostly... spontaneity and all that.” He waves a hand in the air and shifts in his seat. 

Billie’s gaze follows his uneasiness. “Are you irritable or anxious after you haven’t had sex for a certain amount of time?” 

He doesn’t know what amount of time would cause him to become irritable without sex because he doesn’t remember the last time he went more than a few days without it.

“You’re tellin’ me I’m gonna go through sex withdrawal now? That other shit’s still keepin’ me up at night.”

She raises her eyebrows to prompt a response.

“I dunno, what amount of time’re we talkin’?” he asks.

Billie shrugs. “Well, you’ve been here for five days; let’s say a week.”

Dean was 15 when he dropped out of school and got his first handjob, and his first blowjob. He was 16 the first time he sank inside a soft, wet pussy. By the time he was 18, he’d mastered the art of giving head to both men and women. As a dropout, he had a lot of time on his hands, and he liked to spend that time having sex.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever gone a week,” he admits. 

“What about when you were in Afghanistan? You were there before the ban on sexual intercourse was lifted.”

Dean watches her closely. “We made do.”

Billie nods, making another note. “Has your sexual engagement increased in scope or frequency?”

Dean is so tired. He sighs heavily. “Since…?”

“At any time.”

“I dunno how to answer any of these questions.”

She nods again, quiet for a few moments as she scribbles. Without looking back up at him, she asks, “Has anyone been emotionally hurt because of your sexual behavior?”

Dean can’t get the images of Meg, curled around herself in her chair beside him, and of Emma’s panicked expression when she found him with Anna and Max last spring out of his head. Both memories make it hard for him to breathe. He closes his eyes and draws a shaky breath. 

He counts to four then exhales slowly before opening his eyes to see Billie watching him. 

She nods. “Who has been hurt by your sexual behavior?”

“Emma.”

Billie makes more notes. 

“Let’s put a pin in that for now. But we will discuss it.” She returns her gaze to his. “Let’s talk about Meg.”

Dean closes his eyes again. 

“You two have grown rather close.”

“It’s not like that,” he says.

“Like what?”

He opens his eyes, and they sting. He’s either about to tear up, or he needs a long nap. “Like what we were just talkin’ about. Meg’s a friend.”

“I’m glad to see it. You both need successful, platonic relationships with other attractive people.”

In other environments, his relationships with both Meg and Pamela would be considered fraternizing, so he has to ask one more time.

“Seriously, Billie, what the fuck is the fraternizing rule?”

Billie closes her notepad and lifts her bright gaze to his. “Very simply, it’s any relationship inside these walls that disrupts your recovery. We discuss all of your relationships for this reason, to guide you, and to ensure nothing goes sideways.”

“So... I’m not getting booted.”

“Not today.”

Dean raps two knuckles on Meg and Pamela’s shared door. It’s open, and they’re both inside, stretched out in opposite directions on their respective beds, flipping through magazines.

They look up, and both immediately bristle.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, and the women look at each other before closing their magazines and moving to the edges of their beds.

“For what?” Pamela asks, sliding her feet into her slippers.

Dean thinks about it before answering. He’s sorry that he even let Constance get to him, but that’s not what he’s apologizing to them for.

“For not telling you two about it — or anyone. Billie explained that I should’ve come forward because it looks like I was keeping something from you all.”

Pamela nods, glancing over at Meg. 

“I’m new at this. I’m usually the one given’ orders and showin’ people the ropes, and now I’m in this place that I don’t understand...”

Pamela shrugs into a cardigan as Meg slides from her mattress to shove her feet into her own slippers. “You know we’re all in this together, right?” Meg asks, fixing her eyes on his.

The uncertainty he hated seeing in her eyes this morning is no longer there, and he smiles. “Yeah, I know. Just took me a minute or two to catch up.”

Both women nod, knowingly.

“One question, though,” Meg asks, swiping a plastic bag of movie snacks from atop her chest of drawers.

“OK,” Dean says, watching her shuffle toward him and the door with her arms full of Sour Patch Kids, Starburst, and Twizzlers.

“Do you really think she’s hot?” she asks before ripping the top quarter from a Twizzler with her molars to chew, and Pamela laughs. 

Chapter 6

Please let me know what you think!

Series Masterlist

MJ’s Masterlist

[cemeterylaned]

all roads lead back to you

chapter five - too much labor

Del stands in front of the nonfiction shelf of the school library, concentrating on reshelving books about the civil war. Music blared in her earbuds as she looked from down to up, pushing the books in by their spines. Her arms were hurting from carrying loads of laundry up and down the stairs the days before, and having a heavy enough driving force to cut snakes in half in the backyard. Her hands were calloused, but the thick skin was already coming off and had already bled when she was in geoscience earlier this week. 

Being the library’s student aide was one of the few times she had time to herself - the other times she had were when she was sleeping, taking a piss or if her dad and brothers went to work. But soon, the year would be over and that peace would be gone. School was a break from home, kind of. When she wasn’t at school, her dad would be up her ass to call every hour or every other hour while they were at work, and she was home alone - or even when she was at work. As she leaned up to place another book about how the North kicked the South’s ass - through an empty space, Orlando was looking at her and whisper-yelled. 

“Cookies!” 

Del jumped, yanking the earbuds out of her ear. 

“Jesus fuck!” 

“Damn! Keep your vocie down.” He whispered back, coming around the shelf to talk to her face-to-face. A few people stared at them, including the librarian that shushed them. 

“What the fuck? Can’t just fuckin’ tap on my shoulder like a normal person?” 

“No, hey-” Orlando leans on the cart casually. “How you doin’?” 

Del’s eyebrow quirked, and looked at him skeptically. 

“How am I doin’?”

“Yeah, like how you holdin’ up? School year’s almost over. You been a damn good student body president. Don’t get to see you much though.” 

“Fine, thanks.” Her response was short, and going back to doing what she did before. She doesn’t ask him how he was doing in return. 

“Yeah? Well, I’m good. Thanks for asking. Do you uh, wanna hang out?” 

Del stops what she’s doing, and rests a hand on her hip and looks at him. 

“I told you, my fuckin’ dad says no. He’ll skin me and you.” 

“Well, it’s the end of the year. You don’t think he’ll let up?”

She rolls her eyes. “You don’t check on me all fuckin’ year, and you just go ‘hey, wanna hang out?’” 

“You haven’t said shit to me either, Del.” Orlando shakes his head, and crosses his arms. “Cole told me he talked to you too.” 

She groaned, pushing her cart toward the science fiction section. “Yeah, and I told him to fuck off.” 

“Yeah! So you can’t really be mad at me, because you told me to fuck off too.” He walks alongside her, and she stops and resumes her duties. 

“I’m not mad. I told you, I can’t fuckin’ go anywhere.” 

“You haven’t even tried to ask!” 

“How would you know?” 

“You don’t hang out with nobody. I hear that announcement for your ass to go to the office like three times a week, and you won’t ask someone to hang out with you. Ain’t nobody hanging out with you and your old man. No offense.”

“None taken.” She mumbles. “I don’t bother. I’m gonna be fuckin’ stuck here until college or die, probably.” 

“You should try.” 

“To say I’m hanging with you?”

“He don’t know me, I think. I don’t think he knew I knew - know - Wayne.” Del glances over her shoulder and feels her heart tug. 

“I don’t know. He’ll probably make you come over, or babysit us the entire time at your house. I’d rather be babysat. I fuckin’ hate my house.”

“Del.” Orlando stands beside her at the shelf, looking at her face. “You gotta start chipping away at him. He gotta think you loyal enough not to leave by now. You bust your ass here in school and always be answering him when he calls.” 

“In school? In school?” She hisses, resting a hand on the shelf. “Orlando, I fuckin’ replaced my ma. Cookin’, cleanin’, laundry- I’m a fuckin’ live-in maid. I do more than bust my ass.” She scoffed. “I need to get the fuck away from here.” 

Orlando felt bad. Wayne, right now was at his house reading Conan the Barbarian comics and helping his grandma put up shelves and clean out the attic. He couldn’t tell her that, it would send her over the edge. He fought to calm Wayne down to not storm the school. He explained that they needed to be methodical so he wouldn’t get beaten black and blue by Bobby Luccetti. But it felt wrong, knowing the distance between Del and Wayne was 6 or 7 miles max- instead of the distance from Ocala to Brockton. 

“Your old man can come check out my house and vet me and my grandma. It’s white boy free.” He holds his hands up. 

“Great.” She sighed, rolling on to the romance section. “I dunno. I can ask him today after school.” 

“Great!” The last bell of the day rang, and he snapped his fingers and pointed at her, walking away. “See you later, Cookies!” 

“Bye.” 

She watched him depart, and rolled the cart back from which it came, and walked outside to wait at her usual spot to wait for her dad. Orlando scrambled to get on his bike and put on his helmet, and sped away from the school. The loud pop and rumble of the pick-up truck that belonged to Bobby became closer, and closer, and closer. He pulled up to the curb, and Del swung open the door and climbed into the truck, plopping down into the seat. She was grateful Teddy and Carl weren’t with him. 

“How was school?” He asked, turning away from the lot and driving off. 

“It was school.” 

“What did you do? You got stuff to do school events and shit? I saw it on the calendar.” 

“Posters for prom. End of school ideas.” She rests her arm on the truck door, looking out the window at all the students walking in groups to go home - chatting and smiling. 

“You makin’ posters?” 

“Yeah.” Silence. She thinks about Orlando. “Daddy?” 

“Yeah Delilah?” 

“Can I visit a school friend’s house this weekend? After work? He said you can come over and meet his grandma, and stay while we hang out-” The words flow as fast as she can talk, nervous. Bobby cuts her off and points a finger at her. 

“I said no fuckin’ boyfriends until you got your own home.” 

“He’s not a boyfriend!” She snapped, and crossed her arms. “He wants to hang out and study for the SATs.” 

“Don’t you take those next year?” 

“Yeah, but he wants to start studyin’, and so do I.” 

Bobby scoffed. “Fine. But I’ll be meetin’ his fuckin’ parents and him. If I don’t like what I see and hear, we’re fuckin’ leaving. You understand me?” 

“Yes, Daddy.” 

They made small talk about his day, but after that, Del was counting down the hours, minutes and seconds to school tomorrow and to tell Orlando she could come over with Bobby’s permission. 

⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓

Del woke up with a newfound excitement and joy she hadn’t known in a while. She got ready for school, and the minute Bobby dropped her off, she dashed to Orlando’s locker. It was open, with him digging for some textbooks inside. Del hit the locker next to him with her hand. 

“My dad said yes. But he said if he don’t like you, I’m goin’ home.” 

Orlando jumped, and closed his locker - trying to catch his breath. “Jesus - Sweet. I’m pullin’ the grandma Alzheimer's and dementia card. You think he’ll feel bad?”

“Maybe. Depends. Don’t lay it on too thick.” She scrunched her nose. “But uh…thanks. For pushin’ me. I’m actually excited to hang out, and not be stuck hangin’ out with fuckin’ morons.” She smiled - and it was genuine. She was excited. Even if they weren’t really studying, they could watch Encino Man and it was nice to know that he missed Wayne too. 

“I am too.” Orlando gives her a kind smile, and closes his locker - throwing an arm around her. She doesn’t even try to pull away. “I know it’s hard without our boy, Cookies.” He was sympathetic to her, and pulled her into a half hug. “We’ll be alright, okay? I just know it.” He pulls his address out of his pocket, and hands the slip to her and waves her off, walking to class. She watched him go - and shoved his address into her pocket of her jeans.

The rest of Thursday, and Friday, she couldn’t wait until Saturday to go to Orlando’s. When Saturday came she packed her backpack with books to simulate them studying. She got ready for work, and Bobby drove her there and dropped her off. Her shift was from 10-4 today - she told Orlando she would be over around 5. It was busy as hell, and it made her day go by fast. She was so excited, she didn’t even feel when her feet started to hurt because her shoes were so worn out in the sole. 

When her shift was over, Bobby picked her up and Del sat on pins and needles the whole way there. She talked about work, even the shitty parts of it. Her dad was surprised, for her to be so open and bubbly. She hated talking to him, she hated sharing stuff about her day. But she was so anxious, the words were falling out of her mouth like word vomit. He drove to Orlando’s provided address, and parked out front. She didn’t bother changing out of her uniform - in a white shirt covered in pizza sauce, a green apron - and she smelled a little like garlic. She nervously followed Bobby to the front door, holding her backpack over her shoulder. He firmly knocked at the door. 

Shortly after the knock, Orlando opened the door. He was wearing a collared shirt, jeans and greeted them with a smile. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Luccetti, Del.” 

“You Orlando?” Bobby asked. 

“Yes sir. Come in,” He stepped to the side, gesturing for the two of them to come into the house. His grandma was sitting on the couch, knitting a magenta blanket, and watching what looked like to be the Hallmark Channel. Bobby looked around the room, inspecting every inch - from the walls, the floor, anything on the shelves. Del sheepishly moved behind him. Orlando stood next to where his grandma sat, and gestured to her. 

“This is my grandmother.” She looked up, and did a wave and flashed a smile, then went back to knitting. 

“So, you both studyin’?” Bobby clarified. His voice was projected. He sounded like an asshole.

“Yes, sir. Prepping for the SATs next year. May I offer you some water?” Del wanted to crack up to the performance Orlando was putting on.

“Yeah…That’d be nice. Thanks, kid.” Orlando promptly went to the fridge, and pulled out two bottles of water - one for Bobby, and then one for Del. “It just you and your grandma? Where are your folks at?” He looked around for any evidence of anyone else other than an old woman and her grandson, looking at the pictures on the walls. Orlando tracked his eyes. 

“No, just my grandma and I. My parents passed away. She got dementia.” He looks at his grandma, nodding to her. Bobby’s stony face softened. 

“Sorry to hear that kid.” 

“No worries. We’re doing really well. She thinks I’m grown though, and go to work.” Bobby chuckles in response and smiles. 

“You’re alright. Okay, go on, go study. We’re only stayin’ an hour. Delilah’s gotta make dinner.” He pats Del’s back and her face falters, avoiding Bobby’s gaze. Orlando looks at her. She wasn’t kidding about being miserable and parentified to take care of the Luccetti household. 

“Thank you sir.” Orlando nods - almost bowing to him. He does a little jog up his stairs, and Del follows behind in a walk. 

“And keep that fuckin’ door open!”

Once her dad was out of earshot, Del elbowed Orlando. 

“Yes sir? Thank you sir? Ain’t that layin’ it on thick?” 

“He bought it, didn’t he?” 

They walk into Orlando’s room. Del had never visited before. Snack wrappers, dirty clothes in a pile on the floor. “Jesus, Orlando. It’s like you fuckin’ hibernate in here.” 

Orlando’s eyes darted to the trash and scooped it up promptly, stuffing it into a trash can and picked up the clothes, tossing them into the laundry basket. He was grateful that he had amazing improve skills. Wayne was hanging out in here before she got here - and shoved him into the attic in case Bobby asked for a house tour. He didn’t really explain to his best friend what ‘a girl was coming over’ meant, he just made up an excuse about the girl in the neck brace he had a crush on. Wayne asked no further questions because he didn’t care. Guilt was rising in Orlando’s throat like stomach acid. 6 or 7 miles was now 60 or 70 feet tops, depending on where in the attic he was - if he was above them, it was like 10. 

⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓

For the next hour, Del and Orlando actually did study - but it was more so her tutoring him than it was studying. They worked on statistics homework - which he was taking as now a senior, and she was taking as a junior. It was actually really productive to have someone hold you accountable for your work. While they were wrapping up, noises came from the ceiling, almost sounding like footsteps. It couldn’t be heard really from downstairs, moreso above Orlando’s room. Del looks up, face scrunched in concern. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

Orlando tilts his head up at the ceiling, and in his head, he wants to kick Wayne’s ass. He looks down at her, matching her look of concern - before softening it into understanding, as if he had an epiphany. 

“That? Oh - it’s raccoons. The exterminator couldn’t come today, but they gonna be here sometime this week when I’m home from school.” 

“Must be some fatass raccoons. What’s goin’ in your garbage?” She snorts, raising her eyebrows while shoving textbooks back into her backpack. “Thanks for lettin’ me hang out.” She throws her backpack over her shoulder. A genuine but nervous smile crosses her face. “It was nice to talk to someone I don’t fuckin’ live with.”

“No problem, Cookies. Mi casa is tu casa, or whatever the fuck the saying is.” 

“Delilah! Let’s fuckin’ go!” Bobby shouted from the base of the stairs. 

“Well, gotta go.” She half frowned.

 They both came downstairs, and Orlando opened the front door for them and stepped out of the way so they could walk over the threshold to his porch. 

“Thanks for helpin’ my girl out. Appreciate you.” Bobby remarked, gently bumping his fist against Orlando’s shoulder. Del walked out of the house first and down the steps to the truck door, looking back at the house. Bobby lingered in the doorway, exchanging words with the boy. After another minute, Bobby walks down the driveway as well and to the driver’s side door - opening it with a look of contentment on his face. Del yanked open her door, and waved goodbye to Orlando standing in the doorway. He glances behind him, and goes to close the door. Her gaze lingers. A strange feeling washed over her, like she was being watched or stared at. 

“Del! Get in the fuckin’ truck. I don’t got all afternoon.” 

She climbs inside the truck, and pulls her seatbelt over her lap and clicks it in. She watches the house disappear as they begin their drive home. She felt betterish, now. Like she could have some kind of hope that she’d be okay. It was an hour where her mind wasn’t occupied by Wayne’s absence. 

⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓

Thursday afternoon to that Saturday morning Del visited, Orlando had gone grocery shopping for the three of them - himself, Wayne and his grandma. He and Wayne went shopping for stuff for him - clothes, soap, shoes. Teenage boy essentials. They dropped off stuff to donation centers that they cleaned out of the attic (mostly because it was driving Orlando insane). His grandma’s old clothes, and her weirdly large collection of black Santas. Wayne was getting adjusted to the guest room, despite its smell of mothballs and the floral patterns. The closet was cleaned out for his new clothes, and they found a couple of posters to hang up on the walls to make him feel more at home. 

Saturday afternoon, Orlando told Wayne he had a girl coming over from school - the girl who broke her neck, or something like that. He vaguely remembers her presence before he beat the shit out of someone with a trumpet. He didn’t want her to recognize him and ring any alarms for school police to come and raid his house. Wayne reluctantly agreed, and Orlando pushed him up the steps of the ladder. And he waited. 

All he could think about was seeing Del. He was so close now, and it irritated him that Orlando told him he had to wait. All this time away, and now he is back, and he can’t even see her?

He boredly sifted through what boxes were left in the attic while he waited for this girl to leave. He crept around as quietly as he could, but the floor creaked and whined under his weight. He could hear talking, and then someone yelling. There was a small window that faced the street. Wayne crouched to crawl to it at the end of the ceiling and roofing. He used the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe the thick caked on dust off, and peered out the glass. His stomach dropped - feeling like a ton of bricks crushed his ribs. 

Bobby Luccetti’s truck. 

He keeps looking down, his eyes fixed on the truck and felt the heat of the fire igniting, rising to his head - so hot, he could swear steam was coming out of his ears. His hand balled into a fist, and dug his fingernails into his palm. A girl with brown hair tied back in a ponytail and pair of jeans with a white shirt and green apron looked up at the house. 

Del. 

He felt his breath was taken straight from his lungs. He restrained to keep his legs from moving - from dashing down the rungs of the ladder, and down the stairs and out that front door. An older man walked into view, and Wayne recognized him as Bobby. The adrenaline flooded his veins. He watches them get in the car and drive off. The minute the truck starts moving, Wayne throws himself down the ladder, stumbling as fast as he can to get down and looks for Orlando. Orlando was talking up the stairs, and barely made it to the top landing before Wayne grabbed the collar of his shirt in a seething rage. 

“You fuckin’ lied to me.” Orlando’s eyes glanced down at Wayne’s hand, which was white knuckled as he gripped his shirt. 

“Well, technically a girl did come over-” 

“You fuckin’ lied. Del was here.” Orlando was sweating. 

“Man, I couldn’t just have you come down like you a fuckin’ guest star on Family Feud!”

“I need to see her.” 

Orlando pulled on his shirt to try to get out of Wayne’s grasp, pulling the fabric from between his fist. 

“You can’t. Wayne, we ain’t doing shit until we plan, and that means you ain’t doing shit until you plan.” 

“I don’t want to plan. I want to be with Del.” 

Orlando grabbed Wayne’s shoulders, and stared at him square in the eye. 

“Man, you don’t think I want you to be with her too? I do, but we can’t just have you pull up on her and her dad.” Wayne burned holes into Orlando’s eyes and skull. “You don’t know how her old man be raking her over the coals.” 

The fire grew hotter. It felt like he was coming down with a fever. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” 

“She’s been hella workin’, and bustin’ her ass. Cookin’, cleanin’, actually workin’. You show up at her house, and her fuckin’ dad will kill you for real this time. And you’d never ever see her again. Is that what you want?” 

The brief description of how she was being treated made that fire white hot. 

“No. I want Del, though.” 

“So, we gotta plan man.” Orlando shakes Wayne. 

“How?” 

“We start learnin’ their routine. When they work, how long they work. I’m gon’ get into her house and see how that shit functions.” 

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? I’m not gonna fuckin’ sit here.” 

Orlando furrowed his brows in frustration. “Yeah, you kinda are.” 

“Fuck no.” 

“Wayne, you are a fuckin’ walking red flag. You need to lay low, or you’ll get us both in trouble, and your girlfriend’s dad is gonna lock her in a fuckin’ shed if you do somethin’ stupid.” 

“I don’t wanna.” His fixed gaze on his friend made Orlando uncomfortable. He looks away, then back at Wayne. 

“Look man. She misses you too. She don’t talk to nobody, and hasn’t talked to nobody since you been gone. This is the first time she been able to get out the house and her dad was here the whole time. We gotta work up to being able to have him leave her here and pick her up later. Yeah?” 

Wayne looked down at the plush, deep pink carpet. Orlando was right. He knew that to be true. The weight of thinking about the time until he could see her was soul crushing. 

“Yeah.” 

“So, this is what we’re gonna do. I’ll keep impressin’ her old man and get him to trust me enough to leave, and come back when we get that far - you come out that room and y’all can reunite. You gotta trust me on this. It’ll fuckin’ suck, but it needs time.” 

Wayne kept his eyes to the floor. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay. Now, let’s go make dinner. You ain’t livin on no beef jerky and shit anymore. We’re gonna make fettuccine alfredo.” 

[direwombat]

oc interview: deputy sybille la roux

tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton (and stealing your format for it being an interview with wheaty because i love that idea so much!)

tagging: @natesofrellis, @adelaidedrubman, @thomrainer, @strafethesesinners, @funkypoacher, @strangefable, @confidentandgood, @harmonyowl, @purplehairsecretlair​, @sstewyhosseini​, @deputyash​, @aceghosts​, @noetikat​, (and skelly if you want to do an interview for any of your other ocs, consider this a tagback :3c)

She watches skeptically as Wheaty pushes a few sliders on his soundboard and he presses the foam muff of his headphones to his ear. “Okay, I think we’re good,” he says. “Uh, just say something so I can make sure the gain is good”

“I don’t understand how this is supposed to increase moral,” she says.

“The people of the Resistance want to know you better,” Wheaty answers. 

“They don’t need to,” she whines. 

“Right. You’re a pessimist, I forgot that,” Wheaty says. “Look, think of it this way: If we all die, then at least maybe some record of us survives.” 

She huffs a heavy sigh and crosses her arms. “Fine. Ask your questions.”

Name?

SYBILLE: Sybille Marie La Roux.

WHEATY: Oooh, very French.

SYBILLE: “Cajun.”

Are you single?

SYBILLE: This is what you’re leading with?

WHEATY: Hope County’s eligible bachelors and bachelorettes want to know!

SYBILLE: [pauses] I’m not looking. 

Are you happy?

[Dead Air]

SYBILLE: Are you serious?

WHEATY: Um..okay, uh...

Are you angry?

SYBILLE: Wheaty, a doomsday cult has taken over the county, and my brother is missing -- maybe dead. I’m fuckin’ pissed.

WHEATY: Yeah, I guess that’s fair.

Are your parents still married?

SYBILLE: They’re dead.

WHEATY: Oh. I’m sorry.

SYBILLE: It is what it is. 

Birth place?

SYBILLE: New Orleans, Louisiana

Hair color?

SYBILLE: Black...

Eye color?

SYBILLE: Green...I-- Wheaty, people know what I look like. There are so many WANTED posters with my face on them around the county. 

Birthday?

SYBILLE: May 5th, 1983. 

WHEATY: Cinco de Mayo!

Mood?

SYBILLE: I...Exhausted

Gender?

SYBILLE: Female

Summer or winter?

SYBILLE: Y’know, it used to be winter, but I’m sure my relocation to Montana will change my tune. The summers where I grew up were as hot and sticky as Satan’s ballsack.

WHEATY: [laughing] Gross!

Morning or afternoon?

SYBILLE: Mornin’. Early hours. Pre-dawn.

=EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE=

SYBILLE: Wheaty, can we not--

Are you in love?

[Dead air]

SYBILLE: I’m not answerin’ this question. 

WHEATY: ...Okay...

Who ended your last relationship?

SYBILLE: It was mostly mutual.

WHEATY: Mostly?

SYBILLE: [sighs] I was going off to war. She was staying home. I wanted to try to make it work, but...she didn’t. S’okay. It was a long time ago. I’m sure she’s much happier now. 

Have you ever broken someone’s heart?

SYBILLE: Probably. Not on purpose though. 

Are you afraid of commitments?

SYBILLE: [laughs] No. 

Have you hugged someone within the last week?

SYBILLE: [sighs] No.

WHEATY: You sound...do you want one?

SYBILLE: [laughs] A kind offer, but I’m alright. Thank you, though.

Have you ever had a secret admirer?

SYBILLE: Well, if they’re a secret then I wouldn’t know, would I?

WHEATY: Not necessarily! You’ve never gotten flowers or chocolates from some anonymous sender?

SYBILLE: I don’t exactly attract the kind of person who sends flowers.

WHEATY: What’s that supposed to mean?

SYBILLE: Nothing. 

Have you ever broken your own heart?

SYBILLE: Break it yourself, and it makes it harder for other people to.

WHEATY: Well that’s...bleak...moving on...

=SIX CHOICES=

Love or lust?

SYBILLE: Both would be nice...but if I had to pick one, love.

Lemonade or iced tea?

SYBILLE: I’m from the South, iced tea, hands down. But I wouldn’t say no to an Arnold Palmer

Cats or dogs?

SYBILLE: Dogs

A few best friends or many regular friends?

SYBILLE: A few best friends. I’d rather have a few friends I’d trust to have my back than a ton who I don’t. 

Wild night out or romantic night in?

SYBILLE: Oh, god. Night in. Doesn’t even have to be romantic. I would love nothing more than to spend a night curled up on the couch in front of a tv. 

Day or night?

SYBILLE: Night. I like the quiet. It’s a good time to think. 

=FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS=

Been caught sneaking out?

SYBILLE: Ha! Only once. 

Fallen down/up the stairs?

SYBILLE: I mean. I’ve definitely tripped up and down stairs, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually fallen.

Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt?

SYBILLE: [sadly] Haven’t we all?

Wanted to disappear?

SYBILLE: Constantly. 

=FOUR PREFERENCES=

Smile or eyes?

SYBILLE: Eyes. 

Shorter or taller?

SYBILLE: This is such a silly question. Taller? I guess. 

WHEATY: Really? You must have a hard time finding partners.

SYBILLE: Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?

WHEATY: You’re like six feet tall, right.

SYBILLE: I’m five-nine.

WHEATY: Oh...really? You seem taller. 

SYBILLE: Thank you? I think?

Intelligence or attraction?

SYBILLE: Intelligence definitely influences attraction. I’m not sure I can exactly separate the two from each other. 

WHEATY: So I guess Hurk and Sharky aren’t your type, huh?

SYBILLE: [laughing]

Hook-up or relationship?

SYBILLE: Oh, I’ve had my fair share of hook-ups. But I think I’d like to have something a bit more stable. Relationship. 

=FAMILY=

Do you and your family get along?

WHEATY: Er, or did you and your family get along.

SYBILLE: My brother and I get along just fine. And my mother and I fought, but I loved her. My father was a piece of shit.

Would you say you have a “messed up life”?

SYBILLE: My father was abusive, I dropped out of high school to pay rent and my mother’s medical bills, I survived Katrina, my father killed my mother and then himself and he would have killed me and my brother if we were home that night, and after that I made sure my brother finished high school and I joined the military after he graduated to help put him through college. You tell me.

WHEATY: I...oh...wow...

SYBILLE: Are we done here yet?

WHEATY: [shuffles papers] Uh, just a few more questions. 

Have you ever run away from home?

SYBILLE: [scoffs] I thought about it more than once, but then I’d be leaving my mother and my brother to fend for themselves. I couldn’t do that to them. 

Have you ever gotten kicked out?

SYBILLE: I mean, I guess I technically got kicked out of the army

=FRIENDS=

Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

SYBILLE: You think I would just admit something like that on air? Jesus, who wrote these questions?

Do you consider all of your friends good friends?

SYBILLE: I mean...I guess? I trust them. That’s really all that matters.  

Who is your best friend?

SYBILLE: Boomer.

WHEATY: Oh, c’mon, that’s a cop-out answer. Boomer is everyone’s best friend.

Who knows everything about you?

[Dead air]

SYBILLE: I can’t tell you that. 

[byanyan]

@crimson--corvid sent:ㅤ❛ here, you can borrow my jacket. ❜

platonic promptsㅤㅤ∘ ˚ ( accepting )

ㅤ'i don't need your jacket' almost gets blurted out as an automatic, instinctive refusal of help. byan catches themself, however, biting their tongue to prevent the words from escaping. they certainly don't want the jacket, don't want to accept the assistance, but... a glance down at themself is enough for them to realize that it might not be the worst thing they could do right now.

the fight they'd gotten themself into had been more intense than they'd anticipated, especially for their opponent being a mortal man, and although they had come out victorious, the same couldn't be said for their top. torn and sliced in several places, hanging off of them awkwardly and splashed with blood (more his than theirs), it's easy to tell from even the quickest of glances that they've been in some shit tonight. not exactly ideal if you want to head home without drawing any unwanted attention.

gaze lifting from their ruined top up to ruairi, then down to the jacket he extends toward them, the fledgling purses their lips. reluctantly, they reach out to accept the offer, taking it into their hands and promptly slipping it on. it's a little big on them, they observe, though not by much. —of course, all that really matters is that it covers the rough state they're in.

ㅤㅤ" i'm fuckin' pissed, i can't believe that fucker grabbed my shirt like that. "ㅤforgoing any expression of gratitude outside of the barest of nods that could easily be missed, byan huffs in aggravation. reaching down to grab a stray scrap of the pink fabric that hangs down over their pants, they eye it for a moment, running their thumb over it idly.

ㅤㅤ" took me like three weeks to make this thing exactly the way i wanted it, an' he just tore it to shreds like it was nothin'! "ㅤspoken like they weren't the one to instigate the fight, like they aren't equally responsible for the rips despite trying to pull themself free when he'd grabbed them by the shirt. with a disappointed hiss, byan releases the material, allowing it to fall back to their hip as their eyes flit up to ruairi's face once more.

ㅤㅤ" ...you swooped in at the right time, though. not really in the mood to have the cops called on me 'cause i look like i jus' killed a man. 'specially when i didn't even kill 'im. ...prob'ly shoulda though, piece'a shit deserved it. "ㅤ...where were they going with this? oh yeah— fixing the other kindred with a rather skeptical look, byan raises an eyebrow, looking him over almost suspiciously.ㅤ" —what're you doin' out here, anyway? you followin' me, or somethin'? "

[you-show-me-love]

Gallavich Kinktober 2022 Day 11 - orgasm denial X “Open your mouth.”

For @gallavichthings and noisy lovers

Read on Ao3 oe below the cut

Officer O'Reilly leaned heavily against the elevator wall as she watched the floor number change. Her mind wasn't rising with her, it was back in her cruiser with the steak burrito still wrapped in aluminum just waiting to be opened. The elevator emitted a jolly ding before its doors opened letting O'Reilly cross into the landing of the third floor.

A noise complaint. A fuckin noise complaint in an apartment building had dragged her away from her dinner. Most apartment dwellers kept the police out of shit like this, blaming thin walls and cramped spaces, but not whoever dispatch spoke too. No, they had been insistent someone come check it out.

God forbid a real crime occurs. O'Reilly could be stopping a mugging or conducting a sobriety test on some boozed up businessman. She could be saving lives! Or she could be biting into a warm tortilla filled with steak, rice, pico, and guacamole.

She heard it, all the way down the hall, voices, most likely a lovers quarrel or family feud. Following the sounds she ended up outside 218. Closer, O'Reilly could hear more noise from behind the door, and yeah they were a little noisy, but not worth her time. Still, she knocked on the door with authority and waited.

It took a minute, but soon enough the door was opening a crack, revealing a tall shirtless redhead. O'Reilly eyed him with skepticism before leaning to the side to look beyond him into the apartment. Finding it clear of blood and broken dishes she affixed her eyes on the redhead.

"Got a noise complaint."

The man had the wherewithal to look sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Sorry, we'll keep it down, officer."

"Thank you." She hoisted her utility belt higher up her hips and sighed. "Have a good evening sir."

She waited for him to close the door before heading down the stairwell and back to her burrito.

–

From Mickey's position he couldn't see anything and could only hear mumbles. He pulled on the straps holding him down, humped the air in futility. If his husband didn't get his ass back here he was gonna-

Ian sauntered in, looking at Mickey with his hands on his hips. He blew out a breath and tapped his foot.

"What the fuck are you waiting for dickhead?" Mickey growled, back to thrashing against his restraints.

Ian tuttered and shook his head, "That was the police, Mick. We got a noise complaint."

"Who gives a fuck?" He shouted, purposefully projecting, hoping to rile his husband up, get his dick hard again, get another fuck in before Ian let him go.

Ian ignored him, rummaging around in their dresser. Mickey was ready to spit fire, his balls ached, his hole was leaking cum uncomfortably, and he still hadn't gotten his rocks off. He loved nights like this, absolutely loved them, when Ian used his body a few times, teased him, brought him right up to the edge but not over it, not until Mickey was crying and begging. Except a banging on their door took Ian away before the crying and begging, and now Mickey was just horny and pissed. Ian turned around, ball gag in hand. Mickey paled as his husband drew closer. If he gagged him he couldn't beg, couldn't plead. Ian would keep him on the precipice for hours if he even allowed him to cum at all.

"This isn't the Southside, baby. The neighbors don't ignore yelling and gunshots."

Mickey rolled his eyes, jaw clenched to keep from spouting off.

“Open your mouth.”

Mickey turned his head away, dodging Ian's attempt to gag him, that is until Ian grabbed his cheeks tight enough to bruise.

"Open." He growled leaving Mickey with no choice. He opened his mouth, making Ian smile briefly before he scrunched up his mouth and spit into Mickey's open one.

"Good boy." Ian praised as he let go of his husband's chin and shoved the ball gag between his teeth, letting him rest his head on Ian's moving hands as he buckled the straps in the back.

"Gorgeous." Ian whispered, looking at Mickey lovingly, pressing a chaste kiss to the ball gag. He stood and shucked the shorts he threw on to answer the door, cock hard like his husbands, but closer to relief.

Mickey let out a throaty whine he would deny later as he watched Ian lube up his cock and settle between his forcibly spread legs. Ian shushed him, rubbing his open palms down his chest to his hips before thrusting to the hilt. Mickey tensed and bit into the rubber ball between his teeth, his throat vibrating with a muffled scream. Ian smiled at the sound, loud enough to spur his hips forward but not loud enough for another unwanted police visit. A tear slid down Mickey's cheek. His was in for a long, torturous night.

[orcboxer]

Thrill, jack-o-lantern, equinox

jack-o-lantern— do you get scared easily? why or why not?

YES AND NO. On one hand, I used to have unbelievably severe anxiety, and I still on occasion suffer a panic attack. But on the other hand, I've gotten really fuckin good at managing it, and I ain't afraid of pain. I love kickin ass and gettin ass kicked, it's fun as hell. Injuries don't scare me so much as just piss me the fuck off, and death loses a lot of its edge when you spend yer childhood chillin on its doorstep. All that really scares me now is abstract shit, real specific ideas that I can't punch.

thrill—if you were in a horror movie, would you be the first to die, the comic relief, the skeptic, the smart one, the last one standing, or the killer?

I'm the red herring. Mute folks always get cast as the killer so everyone would suspect me at first, and it would lead to a fistfight between me and the jock, during which there are two revelations: (1) that I ain't the killer after all, and (2) that me and the jock might be kinda attracted to each other now.

[r0ugesun]

Hi. So lovely of you to respond. Yes I would like a modern mob aemond targeryan please. Fluff please. He is a lobster head after his brother is all burned up. He falls in love at first sight with a music teacher. I have violin in mind (because well I play it) and then he pursues her she brings his gentler side out and he loves it. He is wrapped around her finger and she doesn’t even know it 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Hi!! thank you so much for your patience I was so eager to take this request because I used to play the violin as well! I’ve been told I should start playing again hehe but anyway I hope you like it I got a little carried away towards the end hope u don’t mind :>

Warnings: ooc! Aegon and criston cause I made them likable

Mob boss! Aemond Targaryen x violinist! Reader

Synopsis: mob boss Aemond Targaryen is mesmerized by violinist y/n at a charity gala. With a push from his right hand man Criston, Aemond steps out of his comfort zone to meet her. As their connection deepens, y/n charm and music reveal a softer side of Aemond, sparking a romance that transforms his cold exterior into heartfelt devotion.

Aemond Targaryen, the cold and fierce mob boss with a reputation as severe as his tailored suits, walked into the grand ballroom, flanked by his trusted right-hand man, Criston Cole. The two of them made an imposing pair, their presence commanding the room's attention as they navigated through the mingling guests.

“This place is a fuckin’ zoo,” Criston remarked, his eyes scanning the crowd. “What are we even doing here, Aemond?”

“We’re here to secure alliances and assess our rivals” Aemond replied, his voice cold and measured. “Events like this are perfect for gauging the competition and making connections.”

Criston nodded, though his expression remained skeptical. “You really think we’ll find anyone worth our time here?”

Aemond's gaze swept the room, taking in the city’s elite, politicians, and business magnates. “We’re not looking for anyone Cole. We’re looking for opportunities. Information. Weaknesses.”

Criston smirked. “Well, if anyone can find a needle in a haystack, it’s you.”

Before Aemond could respond, a hush fell over the room as the lights dimmed slightly. A spotlight illuminated a small stage set up at one end of the ballroom. A woman stepped into the light, holding a violin. Her presence was magnetic, her beauty undeniable, but it was the confidence in her stance and the grace with which she lifted her bow that truly captivated Aemond.

He found himself inexplicably drawn to her, his focus entirely consumed by the anticipation of her performance. As she began to play, the first notes of the violin filled the room, weaving a spell over the audience. The music was soulful, poignant, and Aemond felt it resonate deep within him, stirring emotions he hadn’t acknowledged in years.

Criston leaned in, whispering, “Looks like someone’s caught your eye, thought you were here for business.”

Aemond’s expression didn’t waver. “Everything is business, Cole.”

his gaze fixed on y/n as she played, her eyes closed in concentration, completely lost in the music. He was mesmerized, not just by her beauty but by the depth of emotion conveyed through her performance.

As the final note lingered in the air, the room erupted in applause, breaking Aemond’s trance. He clapped along with the rest.

“She’s incredible” Criston said, still beside him.

Aemond nodded slowly. “Yes, she is.”

Criston grinned, nudging him. “You should go talk to her.”

Aemond hesitated, his usual confidence wavering. “I don’t think she’d be to eager to talk to someone…like me” he said pointing to the scar below his eye patch “I’d scare her off.”

Criston laughed. “Scare her off? Come on, Aemond. Just be yourself. Besides, you’re not that scary.”

Aemond shot him a look. “Really? I made a child on the subway piss their pants when I smiled at them.”

Criston shrugged, still grinning. “Okay, maybe a little. But look at her, She’s radiant. She won’t be scared off by a little…personality”

Aemond frowned. “I don’t know…”

Criston rolled his eyes. “Fine, if you won’t talk to her, I will. I’ll just go up there and tell her how my boss has been staring at her like a lovesick puppy.”

Aemond’s expression darkened. “Cole you wouldn’t dare.”

Criston raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Don’t say I never do anything for you.”

Before Aemond could stop him, Criston made his way towards y/n, who was now standing by the bar, accepting compliments and congratulations from various guests. Aemond watched in horror as Criston approached her, his heart pounding in his chest.

After a brief exchange, Criston gestured towards Aemond, who was too far away to hear the conversation but could see y/n’s eyes widen slightly before she smiled and nodded. Criston beckoned Aemond over, his grin widening as he did so.

“Fucking criston” Aemond muttered under his breath as he made his way towards them, his heart racing.

When he reached them, Criston was already introducing him. “this is my boss, he’s not really familiar with classical music maybe you could educate him a little, I’ll catch up with you later boss” criston turned and left quickly leaving Aemond and the alluring violinist.

y/n turned to him, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and amusement. “I’m guessing you’re not here to request ‘Hot Cross buns’?”

Aemond allowed a smirk to touch his lips. “Not unless you have a particularly dark and ominous version of it.”

y/n laughed, the sound light and musical. “I think I left my evil repertoire at home. But I could play you something with a bit of a twist.”

“I think you already have” Aemond replied, his voice low and sincere.

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A man of mystery, I see. Do you have a name, or should I keep referring to you as ‘Brooding Stranger’?”

“Aemond,” he said, extending his hand. “Aemond Targaryen.”

y/n shook his hand, her grip firm but gentle. “y/n. Just y/n.”

“Just y/n” he echoed, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “You play beautifully. I’ve never heard anything quite like it.”

“Thank you” she replied, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “It’s always nice to know my music is appreciated, especially by someone who looks like they’re plotting world domination.”

Aemond chuckled, a deep, rich sound. “World domination might be a bit much. I prefer to keep my ambitions more…localized.”

“Ah, a modest tyrant. How refreshing” y/n teased, taking a sip of her wine. “So, Aemond Targaryen, what brings you to a charity gala? I can’t imagine this is your usual scene.”

“I’m here for the networking” he admitted. “But your performance was a welcome distraction.”

“Well, I’m glad to be of service” she said with a wink. “But I have to ask, what kind of networking does a man like you do at an event like this?”

“Let’s just say I have interests in various industries” Aemond replied cryptically. “And what about you? Do you always steal the show at these events?”

“Only when I’m invited” y/n said with a grin. “I’m a music teacher by day, but I love performing whenever I get the chance.”

“A music teacher?” Aemond echoed, genuinely interested. “That’s quite a contrast.”

“It keeps life interesting” y/n said. “And it’s always rewarding to see kiddos grow and develop their own love for music.”

“I imagine it’s a fulfilling job” Aemond said, his respect for her growing. “You must be very talented to balance both teaching and performing.”

y/n shrugged modestly. “I do my best. It helps that I love what I do. What about you? Do you love what you do?”

Aemond’s expression faltered for a moment. “It has its challenges, but It’s a part of who I am, it helps that it’s a family affair”

“Well, that’s good” y/n said, her smile returning. “Working so closely with your family must be nice.”

Their conversation continued, flowing effortlessly as they exchanged stories and laughter. Aemond found himself drawn to her light-heartedness and wit, while y/n was captivated by his depth and mystery. After that night they became fast friends, y/n was someone he could relax around and share a laugh with and he brought an excitement in her life.

A few days went by, Aemond found himself standing outside a hospital room, a place he dreaded to be. The harsh, sterile smell of antiseptic filled his nostrils, and the quiet beeping of machines echoed down the hallway. Criston stood beside him, his presence a silent support.

Aemond took a deep breath before pushing the door open. Inside, Aegon lay in the hospital bed, his body swathed in bandages. The sight of his brother, once so vibrant and full of life, now covered in burns and barely being able to move, it was almost more than Aemond could bear.

“Aegon” he said softly, stepping closer to the bed.

Aegon’s remaining eye opened gently, and he managed a weak smile. “Hey, little brother” he croaked, his voice raspy from the pain.

Aemond swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at him. “How are you feeling?”

Aegon chuckled, though it quickly turned into a cough. “Like a thanksgiving turkey. But I’ll live. You know me, too stubborn to die.”

Aemond tried to smile, but it felt hollow.

“This shouldn’t have happened, It’s my fault I should’ve gotten to you quicker, those fucking bastards rhaenyra sent….”

“Don’t be ridiculous” Aegon said, his voice firmer now. “This isn’t on you, I should’ve waited for back up.”

Criston, sensing the tension, spoke up. “Aemond, why don’t we give him some time to rest? We can come back later.”

Aemond hesitated, but Aegon nodded. “Go on, Aemond. I’ll be fine. You need to take care of yourself too.”

Reluctantly, Aemond nodded and turned to leave, with Criston following closely behind. As they walked down the hallway, Aemond’s mind raced, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him.

Once they were outside, they both lit up a cigarette, Criston put a hand on Aemond’s shoulder. “You need to take your mind off this, Aemond. Sitting around and blaming yourself isn’t going to help Aegon or you.”

Aemond looked at him, his expression tormented. “What would you have me do?”

Criston gave him a knowing look. “Visit y/n. You were different around her, better. She seems to have that effect on you., though she doesn’t seem to know it.”

Aemond frowned, but the memory of y/n’s smile and laughter was a bright spot in his mind. “I don’t want to burden her with our bullshit.”

“You won’t be a burden” Criston insisted. “Trust me. Go see her. You need this, Aemond.”

After a long pause, Aemond took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled deeply before finally nodding. “Alright. I’ll go.”

Criston smiled, satisfied. “Good. Now, go on. I’ll handle things here.”

With a nod of gratitude, Aemond headed to y/n’s music school, hoping she was there. The drive was a blur, his thoughts consumed by his brother’s condition and the unexpected pull he felt towards y/n.

When he arrived, he took a deep breath before stepping inside. The sound of children practicing instruments filled the air, a welcome contrast to the sterile silence of the hospital. He followed the music until he found her in a classroom, guiding a group of young violinists with patience and grace.

As soon as she saw him, her eyes lit up with surprise and delight. “Aemond! Hey! What brings you here?”

He managed a small smile. “I needed a distraction. And I thought…maybe you could help with that.”

Her expression softened, and she nodded. “Of course. Just give me a moment to finish up here.”

Aemond watched as she gently corrected a student’s posture, her touch light and encouraging. When the lesson ended, the children packed up their instruments and filed out, leaving him alone with y/n.

She approached him, concern in her eyes. “What’s wrong, Aemond?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “My older brother, Aegon. He was…. in an accident. He’s in the hospital, and…Its all my fault, I should’ve gotten to him on time.”

“Aemond” she said softly, stepping closer and placing a comforting hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry. But you can’t blame yourself. Accidents happen.”

“I know” he said, his voice strained. “But it’s hard not to.” It’s hard not to when you know it was no accident at all, he thought to himself bitterly.

“Come with me” she said softly, her voice full of warmth as she led him to her office, it was a big room filled with various musical instruments. She gestured for him to sit on a comfortable chair.

Aemond settled into the chair, feeling a bit awkward amidst the array of instruments. “This place is amazing” he said, his gaze wandering over the collection. “It seems like a haven.”

“It is” she said with a tender smile. “Whenever I’m overwhelmed, this room is where I find peace. Music has always had a way of clearing the noise in my head.”

“I’ve always turned to books and strategy based games for escape” he admitted, “music has never really been my forte. I think I’ve listened to more elevator music than actual songs.”

Y/n chuckled “ah yes, the big bad Aemond Targaryen listening to royalty free music, I can definitely see you doing a little shuffle to the elevator jingles”

Aemond raised an eyebrow in mock indignation. “And what of it? Maybe I’m just trying to avoid the embarrassment of dancing like an overly enthusiastic middle school teacher when Whitney Houston plays in public.”

“That was one time!” Y/n protested, her voice tinged with defensiveness.

She huffed and sat directly in front of him

“Anyway, music can be profoundly healing,” y/n said. “You know I wrote a little something recently, It might help ease your mind.”

was a hint of intrigue in his eyes. “Very well, then. Impress me.”

“I titled this one ‘The dance of the dragons’.”

Y/n fetched her violin and, with a practiced hand, began to play the piece. The rich, expressive notes filled the room, weaving a tapestry of sound that seemed to cut through the tension. As the music flowed, Aemond’s stern expression began to soften, his usual cold demeanor melting into a more contemplative state.

When she finished, she looked up to find him gazing at her, his eye reflecting a rare, genuine warmth.

“Thank you, y/n. That was… incredible.”

She met his gaze, her eyes earnest. “I’m glad it helped. You know, Aemond, you don’t have to carry everything alone. I’m here for you.”

He leaned back, his expression troubled. “I’ve always been the one who has to remain strong, to hold everything together…..I don’t really know any other way”

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” she said gently “It’s okay to let yourself fall apart every now and then. You’re allowed to have bad days too.”

Aemond’s eye searched hers, filled with vulnerability. “I’ve never met anyone like you y/n, I feel lighter when I’m with you”

Her cheeks flushed, her voice trembling slightly. “I feel the same way about you. There’s something about you that draws me in.”

The room fell silent, the air thick with unspoken emotion. Aemond’s breath caught, his gaze locked with hers. His hands reached out, cupping her face as if afraid she might disappear.

“You mean so much to me” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… I don’t know if I can express how much you’ve come to mean to me.”

Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was both urgent and tender. The kiss was a blend of passion and sweetness, filled with the depth of his unspoken feelings. His hands roamed her back, pulling her close, their breaths mingling as their kiss deepened.

When they finally parted, their foreheads rested against each other’s, both of them breathless and overcome with emotion.

She gazed up at him, her heart pounding. “What does this mean for us, Aemond?”

He gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch lingering. “It means I want something more….With you.”

Her smile widened, and she nodded, her eyes bright. “I’d like that.”

They held each other for a moment longer before she gently pulled away. “Let’s get out of here. There’s a little café down the street that makes the best lemon cakes. I think we both could use a treat.”

Aemond chuckled softly, nodding. “Lead the way.”

As they left the music school and walked down the street together, a sense of hopeful anticipation filled him.

unbeknownst to them, Jacaerys sat in a sleek black car parked discreetly across the street. He observed them through the tinted windows, his expression dark and contemplative.

On the other end of the line, Rhaenyra’s voice crackled through the phone. “What’s going on? Have you found anything of interest?”

Jacaerys’s gaze remained fixed on Aemond and y/n as they walked arm in arm. “Yes” he said, his tone ominous. “It seems my dear uncle has found l a new source of… inspiration. I think I’d like to see what’s got him so preoccupied lately.”

Rhaenyra’s voice grew cold. “You know what to do, and be careful Jace. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

Jacaerys’s lips curled into a dark smile. “Don’t worry mom. I have something in mind.”

As the car pulled away, the street seemed to grow colder, the threat of a looming confrontation hanging in the air.