#so no divorce rock involved

[eschercaine]

King Viserys passed away mysteriously. The Iron Throne had stabbed him before he could resolve the matter of succession.

The younger brother of the king, Prince Daemon, who was ousted for seeking Rhaenyra’s hand in marriage, returned to Westeros to find vipers governing the kingdom in the name of their new king: a two-year-old child. His dear niece was held captive in her own home after having been betrayed by her trusted knight, Ser Criston Cole.

He has never believed in sorceries, yet there he was – wielding such power he gained after years of studying alongside warlocks and shadowbinders during his exile – effortlessly slaughtering a troop of knights by himself while Caraxes takes care of the rest.

If anything happens to Rhaenyra… Daemon will make his enemies regret they were ever born.

[vaangoghs]

ok yeah i know rwrb is a longer book, just over 400 pages, i understand that. i get things would need to be cut for the movie, i'm no fool.

i just don't... i'm not understanding the creative decision behind cutting a major supporting character completely. in fact, i'm baffled. like????

[corroded-hellfire]

As You Wish - Eddie Munson x Reader, Part 6

A collaboration with the incredible and amazing @munson-blurbs 💜

Summary: It’s your first official date with Eddie, and what’s almost as exciting as that is seeing how the boys react to the news

Note: I will never get used to the kind comments and sweet words you send me over this series. It truly makes me so incredibly happy. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Warnings: smut, p in v, mentions of oral, age gap, older!eddie, Eddie’s breeding kink should be a given at this point tbh

Words: 8.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie knocks on the door of the trailer he grew up in, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking on the balls of his feet. It seems like an eternity before his uncle opens it, a huge grin on his face at the sight of his nephew. 

“Ed!” he says, holding the door ajar so Eddie can walk in. “What brings you back down to Forest Hills?”

“Can’t a guy just visit his uncle without needing something?” Eddie teases, leaning against the counter, careful not to get any grease stains on it. “I, uh, did need to talk to you, though.”

A concerned frown tugs at the corners of Wayne’s lips. “Y’okay? The boys good?”

Eddie nods, all-too aware of Wayne’s omission of Brittany. “We’re all fine,” he clarifies, “but Brittany and I are definitely splitting up. I filed the divorce papers, then she filed custody papers.”

“Shit,” Wayne mutters, rubbing his palm over his coarse gray beard. “‘M sorry, kid. This kinda stuff ain’t easy, even when you know you wanna end things.” He puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and squeezes. “You’ll find the right one for you.”

Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink, and he has to avert his gaze from his uncle. “I, um…I think I already did,” he sheepishly admits, massaging the back of his neck to relax his nerves. 

Wayne’s eyebrows shoot up, but he can’t say he’s all that surprised. “The babysitter?”

“How did you—”

“I may be an old man, but my eyesight is just fine,” Wayne jokes, “and I could see the way you looked at her at Ryan’s birthday party last summer. Like you damn near worshiped the ground she walked on.”

Eddie lets out a nervous chuckle and nods his head. “Yeah, that’s pretty much how I feel about her.” 

“She’s good with the boys,” Wayne says. “It was nice to see.” Nice for them to have a maternal figure who loves them is what they both think but don’t say aloud. 

“They love her,” Eddie agrees. He opens his mouth to continue, but his uncle cuts him off.

“So do you.” It’s not a question. It’s a knowing statement from the man who knows Eddie better than anyone. It didn’t take much observation for Wayne to see the possibilities of what could be. Of what are, now. 

“I really do,” Eddie answers. The lovesick expression on his face makes Wayne smile. He’s not seen that look on his nephew’s face since he was in high school. Even then, Wayne thinks, he didn’t light up quite like this. 

“Take it slow though, boy.” Wayne didn’t give a shit that Eddie was in his 30’s now; he’s still going to call him “boy” because he’ll be Wayne’s boy until the day he dies. “You don’t want to rush into anything. That’ll just be trouble for everyone involved.”

“I know,” Eddie says. “I, uh, actually want to take her on our first date this Friday.”

“Do the boys know?” Wayne asks.

“Not yet. But they will. I'm not going to lie to them about where I'm going and who I’ll be with. They get that from their mom, and I will make damn sure they know I’ll never lie to them.”

“Good man,” Wayne says with an approving nod of his head. “Can’t imagine their mom feels too keen about watching the boys while you go on a date, though.”

“To be honest, I wouldn’t give a shit how she felt about it. But fortunately for everyone, she’ll be out of town. So, that’s another reason I stopped by. Wondered if you could watch the kids. It’d be up at the house still since I’m staying there while Britt’s gone.”

Wayne’s face lights up. “You know I never need an excuse to spend time with my grandkids,” he chuckles. “Now I just gotta figure out what kinda candy I’m gonna get ‘em hopped up on just in time for you to get home.”

“You’re the best,” Eddie says gratefully, pulling his uncle in for a quick hug. “I owe you one.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wayne appears to brush off the compliment, but he’s beaming on the inside. Being a grandpa is his favorite thing in the world. “I’ve been meaning to stop by, anyway. Made a little something for those two rugrats.” He disappears into his room—what used to be Eddie’s room—and comes back with two of his woodworks: a miniature bookshelf with an R carved on the side, and a small box with an L on the lid. “Figured Ryan could use another place for his books, and Luke can put his Hot Wheels in here.”

“Someone just earned himself a #1 Grandpa mug for his birthday.”

“Hey, rugrats.”

Eddie strolls out of his bedroom—former bedroom, and down the hallway. The muffled sounds of some animated movie he knows he’s seen before become louder the closer he gets to the living room. Both boys are sitting at a Scooby-Doo themed table and chair set that Luke had gotten for his last birthday. They’re sitting too close to the television, but Eddie decides to let that slide for now. As he gets closer, he sees the boys are drawing, peacefully sharing a single crayon box for once. 

“Yeah, Daddy?” Ryan asks without looking up from his art. Eddie picks the remote up off the couch and turns the tv off. Luke’s little head snaps up and his curls bounce as he swivels his body to stare in his dad’s direction. 

“Hey,” he protests.

“Just for a minute, calm down.” Eddie sets the remote down on the coffee table and comes to stand between the boys’ chairs. He’s not entirely sure what it is they’re drawing, but there’s a brown patch that Eddie thinks is the dog that Luke is always drawing and wishing for. Someday, pal. I promise. “I want to talk to you both about something.”

“What is it?” Ryan asks, scribbling furiously with a red crayon. 

“Hey, can we take a break from the drawing for a bit?” Eddie drops a hand to Ryan’s shoulder and his oldest son looks up at him for the first time.

“Why?”

“Just so I can talk to you for a minute.”

Ryan sets his crayons down and turns on his seat to face his father better. Luke copies his older brother’s actions and the brown crayon that was in his hand rolls towards the middle of the table. 

“Are we in trouble?” Luke asks.

“No,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “I just wanted to let the two of you know that I have a date on Friday night.”

Both of Eddie’s sons just stare at him. For a moment, he wonders if he actually spoke out loud or just imagined it in his head. Luke seems completely unfazed by the news, like he just wants to get back to his coloring. Ryan, on the other hand, looks a little skeptical. Eddie was prepared for this reaction, but he knows that as soon as the boys know who his date is with, they’ll be jumping for joy—quite possibly literally. 

“A date?” Ryan asks. “Like, with a girl?”

“A lady,” Luke corrects. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, now truly getting nervous for the first time. Ryan continues to stare at him, and Eddie isn’t sure how to read the usually open little boy. 

“So,” Ryan starts, “does that mean we get to spend time with—”

“Grandpa Wayne is watching you.” 

“Why?” Luke whines, obviously bothered by the fact that someone who is not you would be watching them. That says a lot to Eddie because he knows how much they love Wayne. It takes most of Eddie’s nerves away, hearing that the boys’ first instinct was that they get to spend time with you if he’s going out. Actual excitement bubbles up within him and it’s almost impossible to keep the smile off of his face. A part of him almost wants to keep the boys in suspense—this is just too good. 

“Because,” Eddie finally says, “I’m taking her on the date.” 

Eddie watches their faces, eager for the reaction. Ryan processes the information first and lets out a gasp. Luke takes a few seconds longer, but then he’s standing up from his chair—knocking it over in the process—and his eyes widen as far as they physically can. 

“You two are going on a date?” Ryan asks, voice high and excited. “Really?”

“Really,” Eddie confirms with a chuckle. 

“Oh my gosh,” Luke gushes, his small hands coming up to run through his curls. “Yes!”

The obvious love and excitement these two have towards you only further solidifies an idea that has been floating around his head lately. That you and he were meant to be together. Eddie knew that his sons had a far better childhood than he had, but he could still see the struggles they had living with a mom who never cared like she should. Eddie tried to make up for it, but there’s only so much one parent can take on from the other. He’d wonder if it was some bad karma of his that his kids didn’t get to have the happy little family that Eddie always dreamed of. But now there’s you. And all three Munson men adore you to the moon and back. And what's crazier to Eddie is that you love him back just as much. The boys? Sure, they’re easy to love. But you love three of them as a whole. Eddie can’t wait to tell you how they reacted to this news.

“You guys are happy about this, I take it?” Eddie asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Ryan says, launching himself out of his chair and wrapping his arms around his dad’s waist. 

Eddie lets out an oof as the weight of his son knocks him back a step. But he’s quickly returning the hug.

“Our super-secret plan worked!” Luke says.

Raising his eyebrows, Eddie turns his head to look at his youngest son. 

“Secret?!”

“Okay, how about this?” You hold up a little black dress for your roommate to inspect. 

Jess tilts her head in consideration. “Too clubby,” she determines, and you roll your eyes with a dejected sigh. “Think…romantic but sexy.”

“Fine,” you grumble, rummaging through your closet. “Does this one pass the test?” You show her a floral lilac dress with a small slit up the side. 

“Perfect!” Jess determines, grinning as she grabs a pair of strappy wedges from the closet floor. “Wear these with that, and he’ll be putty in your hands.” She pauses. “Actually, he basically already is. But, still, you’re gonna look hot.”

Your cheeks burn at the compliment, as well as the thought of Eddie turning into mush when he sees you. “Yeah, yeah. Let me get dressed; this show ain’t free.”

“It is for Eddie!” she trills, but leaves and closes the door behind her. 

You finish applying your makeup just as Eddie rings the buzzer. “Jess, I’ll be back later!” you call out. “Thanks again for the wardrobe help.”

“No problem! Hope you get laid!”

Same, you think, opening the door to find your handsome date standing in front of you. “Wow,” you breathe out. He’s wearing a dark green button-down shirt, black slacks, and his signature leather jacket. His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail. Your palms become slick with nervous perspiration at the mere sight of him. 

“Wow, yourself,” Eddie smiles, pulling you in by your waist and kissing your lips. It starts off gentle, but he gradually deepens it, grabbing your ass and giving it a squeeze. “If we don’t leave now, I’m not gonna let you leave the bedroom,” he growls in your ear, punctuating his statement with a quick smack to the soft flesh of your bottom. 

“Let’s get going, then,” you say, grabbing his hand and leading him to the car. 

You’re filled with anticipation; the secrecy of the evening is driving you insane. “How long until we’re at this mystery location?” you ask, trying to keep your eagerness at bay. 

“Soon.”

“Okay, but what’s ‘soon’?” you press. “Like, five minutes? Half an hour?”

Eddie chuckles. “Jesus, you sound like Luke.”

Your jaw drops and you cross your arms over your chest. “Did you just compare me to your five-year-old son?”

“Are we there yet?” Eddie exaggeratedly mimics in a high-pitched voice. 

“I do not sound like that!” you protest through your giggles. 

“I do not sound like that!” he echoes, keeping the obnoxious tone. 

“Now who’s acting like a five-year-old?” you retort, laughing as he scoffs at you, putting your mind at ease. It’s Eddie, your Eddie, and no matter what he’s planned, you know it’ll just make you fall further in love with him. 

Eventually, Eddie pulls onto a highway, and you head in a direction you’re unfamiliar with. All it does is make you even more curious, but you know that Eddie isn’t going to be answering any questions. As if it’s his way of telling you not to say anything, he turns on the radio and fiddles with a dial until he comes to a song he likes. His hand doesn’t go back on the wheel, though. He reaches over and takes one of your hands into his own. Butterfly wings stir inside of you as he brings the back of your hand up to his lips. After pressing a few kisses to the skin there, he laces his fingers with yours and rests them comfortably on the center console between you. 

It feels like forever until you reach your destination. According to the clock on the truck’s dash, it was just under half an hour, though. Gentleman as always, Eddie comes around to your door to open it for you. He even offers his hand to you to help you out of the car. Once he’s shut the door behind you, he doesn’t let go of your hand again. Honestly, it wouldn’t bother you if he never let it go. 

The parking lot of this mystery date spot is pretty crowded on this Friday night. As the two of you get closer, you inspect the large red brick building. It’s old enough looking to be charming, but not derelict or decrepit. Green foliage adorns the outsides, a few benches every couple of feet—mostly occupied at the moment. The other people you see are dressed at the same level as both you and Eddie so the little worry that you’d be over or under-dressed finally fades away. 

Above the front door, there’s a white and gold sign that says “Scott & Ollo’s.” Eddie holds the heavy brown door open for you and, regrettably, you have to let go of his hand to step inside. You don’t have to go long without his touch, however, as he steps up behind you as soon as you both enter, his hands resting lightly on your waist. The first thing that you register is the music. It’s loud—not overbearingly so, but enough where you can tell its live music instead of a recording being played over the PA system. Next, you take in the waiters in their all black attire that are buzzing between tables covered in white tablecloths and an array of foods—that smell delicious, you also notice.

“Hello,” the hostess greets you and Eddie as you walk up to her podium.

“Hi,” Eddie says, keeping one hand on your waist as he speaks to her. “Should have a reservation for two. Under the name ‘Munson.’”

Your eyes are flitting around the space and Eddie watches you with a fond smile on his face as the hostess searches for his name. 

“Ah, here we are. Right this way, please,” the hostess says. 

Eddie once again laces your fingers together and guides the two of you through the decently filled restaurant. As you walk, you notice that the restaurant is arranged in a circular fashion, and that people at the tables keep looking in towards the center of the room. You try to crane your neck to see around some of the patrons, but you’re unable to see what they see. The hostess leads you down a few steps that lead down to another landing where tables are laid out. From here, it’s easier to see what has everyone’s attention. The middle of the restaurant has a live band playing and a dance floor that a few couples currently occupy. 

“Here you are,” the hostess says as she presents your table. She sets a menu down at each place setting as Eddie waits for you to sit in your seat so he can push it in for you. “Your waiter will be Harris and he’ll be right with you.”

“Thank you,” you say before she steps away. Now seated, you let your eyes take in everything a little bit more. The small lanterns on the middle of every table, some women looking longingly at the dance floor while the men they’re with look terrified of it. At the grand chandelier that hangs over the whole space, the crystals on it reflecting the light all around. “Eddie, this place is beautiful. Where did you find it?”

“A buddy of mine from high school proposed to his girlfriend here. I’ve never been but they both said it was incredible. So far, they’re right.”

“And are you actually going to dance with me?” you ask with a small giggle as you pick up your menu. 

“Getting to hold you close to my body while we listen to slow music? Hell yeah.”

You shake your head fondly at how unromantic he makes it sound; but you know that’s just him messing around. There’s no way he would’ve chosen this place to go if he didn’t want to have a romantic evening and dance with you. 

“Should we get some wine?” Eddie asks. 

“Sure, but you’ll have to order it.”

“Why would—oh, right,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “Sometimes I forget your age.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” you ask.

“I don’t really think of it one way or the other. You’re just…you. My person. Not my person who is twelve years younger than me, just my person.”

His words have your heart picking up speed, and it’s quickly pumping heat up towards your face. His person. It felt not too long ago you could only dream about Eddie ever saying that to you. 

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle and you look up to see what’s so funny. But he’s just smiling at you.

“What?” you ask.

“You haven’t stopped smiling since we walked in the door,” Eddie says. You hadn’t noticed, honestly. But now that he points it out, you can feel the tightness in your cheek muscles at the long-held grin.

“You just make me really happy,” you tell him, love practically radiating out of your every pore. Eddie sets his menu down and reaches across the table to take both of your hands in his own.

“Baby, you’re it for me. Always. Don’t forget that, okay?”

The only response you can give is a nod, as you feel the emotion welling up behind your eyes. After taking a moment and clearing your throat, you think you’re able to speak.

“You’re my forever.”

Harris comes and takes your orders: Eddie gets a New York strip, medium rare, and you choose the chicken florentine. They’re delivered on intricately garnished plates; so beautiful that you’re almost afraid to eat. 

“Been awhile since I’ve been to a restaurant that didn’t serve a Happy Meal,” he jokes, dragging his knife through the tender cut of meat. 

“At least you have your kids as an excuse,” you tease him. “Before that, you were just a grown man eating a very tiny pouch of fries.”

Eddie laughs, popping a bite of the steak into his mouth. “Speaking of those two,” he starts, “I told them.” About us, is what he doesn’t say, but he doesn’t have to. 

You offer him a nervous glance. “What…were they okay with it?”

“Oh, yeah. They were only upset that you weren’t watching them until I told them that you were my date.” He chuckles at the memory of their excited little faces, leaning in to add, “and did you know that their ploy to get us together was a secret?”

Clapping a hand over your mouth to keep your giggles from escaping, you widen your eyes. “I think we can cross ‘CIA agent’ off of their list of future career choices.”

“And professional poker player,” he agrees, running his thumb across the back of your hand. “But I really can’t believe my luck. Y’know, how much they love you, and how much you love them.”

“Of course I do,” you tell him. “Even if you and I weren’t together, I’d adore your boys. They’re great kids, Eddie. The best. Because of you.”

Eddie stands slightly to reach over and kiss your forehead. “I love you so fucking much,” he declares. Part of him wishes he had a ring so he could propose right now, make you his forever. 

Once you’ve finished eating, Eddie’s by your side and offering his hand. 

“May I have this dance?” he asks. He keeps his tone serious, but he waggles his eyebrows as he says it. 

“Such a gentleman,” you smile, placing your palm in his. You can feel every crease and callous, and you’re immediately overtaken with a sense of safety and belonging. “Of course you may.”

He leads you to the dance floor, taking you into his arms. Your left hand rests on his right bicep, and your right hand takes purchase in his left. His free hand is soon pressed to the small of your back so the two of you can sway impossibly close. 

The band plays the opening chords of “Something,” by The Beatles, and your face lights up with joy. 

“I love this song,” you tell him, adjusting your stance so your left hand can travel to the nape of his neck. 

Without missing a beat, Eddie says, “I’ll learn how to play it for you.” Shit, he thinks, I’d go home and figure out the chords right now if I wasn’t on the best date of my life.

You’re not totally convinced, tilting your head in disbelief. “Even though it’s not metal?”

“Only for you, my love.” His response is sincere, and you rest your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. If you had to take bets, you’d guess that yours was beating in perfect tandem. 

After you’ve finished dancing, you both agree that you’ve worked off some of your delicious dinner and have room to split a decadent dessert. You settle on a piece of cheesecake with cherry topping and Harris serves it to you with two forks. Eddie tuts you when you go to take the first forkful, but when you look at him in confusion, he spears a generous bite of the dessert and holds it up to your lips. A bubbly feeling floats through your body as you open your mouth and accept it from him. It’s amazing how the littlest things Eddie does give you full body reactions. 

Once the cheesecake is devoured and the bill is paid (which Eddie snatched up the moment it hit the table cloth), Eddie offers you his hand and you walk out of the restaurant and into the chilly evening. There are no clouds in the sky, revealing the black canvas dotted with tiny diamond stars and a luminescent moon. You’re so busy taking in the view, you didn’t even realize Eddie shrugged out of his leather jacket until he’s draping it over your shoulders. It’s pure instinct to clutch it tighter around you, wanting Eddie’s scent and essence as close as can be. 

The band can still be heard outside, muffled, but clear enough to tell that they just started playing Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” The two of you are approaching the first row of cars in the parking lot when Eddie tugs on your hand, pulling you to a stop next to him. Before you get the chance to open your mouth and ask what’s wrong, Eddie wraps one arm around your waist and tugs you up against his chest. He takes your left hand in his right and laces your fingers together as he begins to sway from side to side.

“Wanted one more dance with my girl tonight,” Eddie mumbles, giving you a warm smile. 

“Dancing in the moonlight? Who knew you were such a romantic, Munson,” you tease. He leans in and nips at your earlobe, causing you to giggle. 

“You would’ve thought you’d caught on by now,” Eddie retorts, giving your hand a light squeeze. Letting your eyes slip closed, you lean in and rest your head against the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. 

“This is perfect,” you say, tone dreamy and light. 

“You’re the best dance partner I ever had, Sweetheart.”

The words bring a smile to your face, and you press a light kiss against Eddie’s throat before looking up at him. ��Hey, can I tell you something?”

“Course baby,” he replies, his hand that’s on the small of your back tracing patterns over the material of your dress. “You can tell me anything.”

You pick your head up and look at him from beneath your eyelashes. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

That’s all Eddie needs to hear before he’s taking you by the hand and tugging you to the car. 

“Slow down; I’m in heels!”you protest between giggles, but Eddie is not about to waste precious seconds that could be spent inside you. 

You assume he’s going to drive home as fast as he can, which is why you’re more than confused when he opens the back door instead of the front. He slides in and pats his lap with a mischievous grin. 

“In your car?” you balk teasingly, already ducking into the vehicle and draping a leg over his. “Eddie Munson, you’re a little horndog.”

He doesn’t deny it; he simply closes the door and bunches your dress to your hips. You certainly weren’t lying: there are no panties to be found. He inhales sharply at your perfect pussy on display like this for him, and his burgeoning erection twitches behind his fly. “Fuckin…holy shit,” he manages, letting his middle finger graze your glistening folds. “And already wet f’me, hm? Was it my dance moves?” He gently bites your earlobe, and you shiver at the sensation. 

“Was…just you, baby,” you breathe, bringing your lips to his neck and trailing kisses along the side. His hands grip your bare ass, and you use the leverage to grind against the seam of his pants. “What’s got you so worked up?”

Eddie fumbles with his belt buckle, finally unfastening it with a relieved sigh. “‘S you. So fucking gorgeous, and all mine.” He whimpers when your fingers brush up against the outline of his cock while you unbutton his pants and tug down his zipper. “Tell me ‘m yours, please, baby.”

“You’re mine,” you whisper in his ear, taking in the new sensation of his cotton boxers on your throbbing clit and rubbing yourself against it needily. “All mine, only mine.”

Instinctively, Eddie finds your hole and slips a finger inside. “Bounce on it,” he instructs, pouting when you shake your head. “Whas’ wrong?” Shit, he thinks, was car sex a bad idea?

But you chase away his worries when you tell him, “Need more. Another finger. You’re too big for just one, Eddie.”

He happily obliges, making you feel full in the second-best way he knows how. With that, you take what you need, holding onto his shoulders as your pussy grips his thick fingers. He’s plunging them in and out of you as you ride them, the two of you working in perfect tandem to bring you to your release. 

Eddie knows every last inch of your body like the back of his hand, and he curls his fingers slightly to drive you over the edge. 

“F-Fuck, ‘m coming!” you moan, and it must be louder than you realize, because Eddie laughs and lets out a sshh. 

“You’re gonna get us caught, pretty thing,” he warns you, but he doesn’t slow his pace. “I’ll have to tell the cops that I just couldn’t help myself; ya looked too damn gorgeous tonight. Had to be inside you.”

The thrill of being discovered has your orgasm crashing over you, and you cry out Eddie’s name as it hits. He removes his fingers from your pussy, popping them in his mouth and swirling his tongue around to lap up your slick. It’s enough to nearly make you cum again. 

“Gotta feel you,” he mutters, taking his cock out of his boxers and into his hand. Pre-cum leaks from the tip, and if you had more room, you’d lean down to lick it off. “Gotta feel you around my dick, sweet girl.”

“Mhm,” you squeak out, aligning yourself over his length and sinking onto it. Inch by inch, you take him inside you as he stretches you in the most delicious way. The thick vein that runs from base to tip is heaven against your walls, and you steal a second to just feel him before you start moving. 

His hands grasp your waist, sinking into the plush of your ass as he helps you ride him. “Thas’ perfect,” he growls, nodding as you bounce on his cock. “You make me feel so damn good. We were made for each other, I fuckin’ swear.”

The tempo is slow at first as you ease into it, trying to balance the fullness within you and the newest setting for your trysts. Gradually, you pick up a bit of speed, and he matches it, balls slapping against you. 

“I love you,” you tell him, adding the promise of, “I’ll always love you.” You brush his hair from his face and kiss him passionately, tongue brushing his. When he pulls away for a breath, he gives your lower lip a little bite. 

“I’ll always love you,” he swears. “Always, always, always.”

You can feel how close he is, and you’re right there with him, so you pull the trigger. “Prove it,” you murmur. “Fuck me so full that your cum drips out of me. Or maybe I’ll keep it inside me and get nice and knocked up for you.”

A string of swear words leaves his lips as he spills into you. “Oh, fuck yes, holy fuckin’ shit. Wanna get you pregnant, y’gonna look s’good havin’ my babies.” He presses his hands into the plush of your thighs. “Cream my cock, baby. Show me who makes you cum.”

Just a few more bounces is all it takes for you to cum again, flopping against his chest as you take big, heaving breaths. 

“Can’t believe I scored on the first date,” Eddie jokes, and you bite his shoulder in retaliation. “Ow!” He rubs the spot dramatically. “C’mon, baby. Let’s get home, yeah?”

“Don’t wanna move,” you mumble, smiling as Eddie chuckles and kisses your scalp. 

“Faster we get home, faster we can fuck on a nice, cozy bed,” he murmurs, trailing a fingernail up and down your arm. “And I can go down on you like a goddamn gentleman.”

The next morning, you’re barely awake and pouring yourself a cup of coffee in the kitchen when two rambunctious boys burst in.

“You’re here!” Luke cheers—which sounds more like shouting, this early in the morning. You and Eddie had talked about how it might look having you in the house when the boys woke up. But you figured they wouldn’t ask questions, and if they did, Eddie was ready to provide a long explanation on how something was broken in your car, and he couldn’t work on it while it was dark outside. 

“Hi,” you say, voice still groggy from sleep. You shuffle over to the table and take a seat. A Munson boy takes a seat on each side of you, and you let out a chuckle. “Can I help you?”

“How was it?” Ryan asks.

Shrugging your shoulders, you bring the Garfield coffee mug up to your lips and take a sip. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Oh, come on!” Luke whines. It’s hard not to smile and play it cool, so you just take another sip of your coffee.

“What is all the racket?” Eddie walks into the kitchen, the palm of his hand rubbing at his right eye. He’s wearing blue plaid pajama pants hung low on his hips and nothing else. You know there’s nothing beneath them because you watched him put them on as he rolled out of bed. He had tossed you a pair of his sweatpants to put on since you’d only been wearing a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts. 

“Daddy!” Luke calls, making Eddie wince at his volume. 

“Take it down a few notches, kid.” Eddie ruffles his youngest son’s curls before walking over to pour himself a cup of coffee. 

“How was the date?” Ryan asks, eyes looking back and forth between you and Eddie. 

“Date?” Eddie asks. He walks over and takes a seat at the table before taking a casual sip from his mug. “Did someone go on a date last night?”

“Luke, you had a date?” you tease, poking him in the ribs. He gives an overdramatic roll of his eyes and runs his hands down his face.

“No! You two did!” he says.

“Oh, that’s right,” Eddie says, looking at you now. “I do remember seeing you at a restaurant last night.”

“You guys are the worst,” Ryan sighs, slumping down in his seat. It makes both you and Eddie chuckle. 

“It was a wonderful date,” you tell them, deciding to end their misery. Now that they sense they’re going to get some answers, the boys are very alert and paying attention. It reminds you of how your childhood dog would react when you asked her if she wanted a treat. 

“Was Daddy a gentleman?” Ryan asks. Eddie scoffs, as if insulted by the insinuation that he would be anything but. 

“Of course he was.” 

“What did you eat?” Luke asks. Leave it to him to ask about the food.

“I had steak,” Eddie says. “And…other things.”

Heat comes to your cheeks at the way he eyes you over the brim of his coffee cup. Giving him a light kick under the table knocks the smug smirk off his face, though. 

“Like potatoes,” Eddie says, though you expect it’s more to appease you than anything. 

“Ryan said I look like a potato,” Luke adds. 

Coffee almost shoots out of your nose, and you have to quickly cover your mouth so you don’t spray the table with joe and creamer. This was life with the Munson men. Unpredictably hilarious and quite honestly the best thing you’ve ever had in your life. 

“You don’t look like a potato,” Eddie responds.

“He did as a baby!” Ryan rebuts. 

Eddie rubs his thumb and index finger over his eyebrows as he lets out a sigh. “It’s too early for this,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Are you going out again?” Ryan asks, and you’re thankful for the subject turning back on track. 

“I don’t know,” you muse, tapping your fingernails against the porcelain mug. Both Ryan and Luke frown at your response. “I haven’t been asked yet.”

“Daddy, ask her!” Luke chides. 

“Pretty sure I did ask,” Eddie says, raising an eyebrow at you. You know what he’s referring to, but panting out “fuck, when can we do this again?” while you’ve got his dick down your throat doesn’t count. 

“Did you? When?” You smirk at him, backing him into a corner. Now he has no choice but to ask you properly. Eddie’s eyes narrow at you, and you can practically hear him saying you’ll pay for this later. 

“Fine,” he grunts. He takes another sip of coffee before setting the mug down and clearing his throat. “My darling, would you like to go out with me again?”

It feels so infinitesimal to be asking for a second date. This is something teenagers do in high school, not adults with someone whose body you’ve already memorized or when you’ve already declared you’ll love them forever. But it makes the boys happy to hear and he does want to take you out again. 

“I would be honored.”

Your reply still causes Eddie to break out in a beaming smile and reach across the table for your hand. Happily, you lace your fingers with his and don’t even notice the two boys watching with glee. 

“Can we come?” Luke asks.

“Luke,” Ryan groans, “that’s not a date, then.”

“Did you kiss?” Luke asks, ignoring his older brother. Suddenly, Ryan is leaning on the table, eager to hear the answer as well. You see the heat you feel in your face reflected in the pink of Eddie’s cheeks.

“Boys—” Eddie starts before being interrupted by both of them whining.

“Daaaaad!”

“Come on!”

Trying to stifle your giggle, you give Eddie a nod to let him know it’s okay with you if he tells them. Receiving your signal, Eddie nods his own head in reply and shifts in his seat.

“Yes, we kissed.”

Both boys cheer; Ryan throwing his arms in the air and Luke dancing in his seat. You laugh in amusement as you watch them. The fact that they’re almost as happy as you are about you and Eddie being together warms your heart in a way that’s new. It feels as if a new compartment of your heart has been unlocked and all of this love is flooding into it. 

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says, trying to calm the boys back down—even if he’s still grinning himself. “We’re all going to the Harrington’s today, so after breakfast I want you both to get dressed.”

“Uncle Steve’s?” Luke asks. “Why?”

“For a play date.” Eddie shrugs and rises from his seat. “More coffee?”

“Yes, please,” you tell him. He picks up your mug and presses a kiss to the top of your head. Neither boy misses the act of affection, and it feels like a surge of adrenaline spikes your blood. You’ve always been so careful not to let the boys know what’s going on between you—ever since that very first night. But now, getting to be so open about it, knowing they’re going to start seeing you as their dad’s girlfriend instead of their babysitter…it’s a lot. It’s not bad, but it’s a bit overwhelming. 

“Yeah,” you say, shifting in your seat under their gazes. “You can play with Theo and Natalie for a while.”

It doesn’t escape your notice how Ryan flushes at the mention of Natalie’s name. You force yourself to bite back your smile but make a mental note to bring it up to Eddie later.

“Alright, Munson’s,” Eddie says as he places your coffee mug back down in front of you. “What do we want for breakfast?”

“Pancakes!” Luke says.

“Daddy burns those,” Ryan reminds him. 

“Good thing I’m here,” you say, standing up from your seat. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do that,” Eddie says, ghosting a hand against your waist. 

“I want to,” you tell him. “Sit.”

“No, let me help you at least.”

“Okay,” you agree. “Can you help me get everything I need together?”

“Course I can.”

Ryan nudges Luke across the table. The younger brother raises his eyebrows in question. Ryan nods his head in the direction of you and Eddie. Luke turns his head to see the two of you moving in tandem to get things out of the cabinets that you’ll need. You share passing words, gently touching or brushing up against one another as you work. It’s so domestic and comfortable for the two of you. But to Ryan and Luke, they’ve never seen something so peaceful. An activity as simple as making pancakes was a potentially explosive event in their lives up until now. It’s the first time both Ryan and Luke are realizing this is how it’s supposed to be. It’s meant to be, “can you pass me the flour?” instead of, “Jesus Christ, where did you put the goddamn pan?” like they’re used to.

The boys stay silent, just watching you and their dad help one another and him make you giggle. It’s possibly the warmest moment they’ve ever felt in this house. Ryan has the sudden urge to hug both of you, but he doesn’t want to interrupt the moment and have it stop. Luke watches in awe at the easy smiles you and Eddie give one another, never shooting the other a glare when they aren’t looking. It’s happy and it’s soft and it’s warm and tingly in a way he didn’t know existed. He’s never been so happy to have to wait for food to be made. 

“Luke,” Ryan whispers, never taking his eyes off of you two.

“What?” Luke’s gaze never falters either. 

“Daddy’s so happy.”

Luke nods enthusiastically. “And it’s all because of our super secret plan.”

Eddie rings the Harrington’s doorbell not once, not twice, but five times. 

“Will you stop that?” you snap, but a smile dances on your lips. “You’re like a child.”

Eddie doesn’t have the chance to retort before Steve swings open the door. “Munson and Munsonitos! And, uh,” he stammers when he gets to you, “Lady Munson?” he tries, nervous to see your reaction. 

Eddie wraps his arm around your waist. “Lady Munson, huh? Kinda like the sound of that.”

The four of you pile into the living room, and Steve encourages the boys to head into the family room where Natalie, Theo, and Danny are playing. “Amelia’s napping, but she’ll be awake and demanding Uncle Eddie cuddles soon,” he promises, laughing when Eddie huffs impatiently. 

Steve walks over to the old record player a little too nonchalantly, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “Let’s set a little mood music, shall we?”

Your boyfriend catches on before you do. “Nope, Harrington, no way. Absolutely n—”

Whoa oh oh oh oh oh oh

Whoa oh oh oh oh oh

Uptown girl

She’s been livin’ in her uptown world

“I hate you,” Eddie grumbles, but his eyes give away his true feelings. 

Steve doesn’t buy it, either. “Look at that shit-eating grin,” he teases. “You can’t even listen to this song without making eyes at her.”

“Harrington, I will throw all your hairspray in the dumpster if you don’t shut up.”

You’re spared from breaking up their ridiculous fight when Nancy comes in the room, twisting the cover onto a bottle. She waves you over, and you dutifully follow, not wanting to witness whatever nonsense the two men were about to engage in. 

When Steve realizes that there are no women around, he leans in and whispers to Eddie, “I told you, didn’t I? Came to your work and said you should be fucking the babysitter.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest and shakes his head. “Overachiever that you are, you went for the whole relationship.” 

“Overachiever, huh?” Eddie muses. “Never heard that one before.”

“I figured. She probably only says you’re not so tough, just because you’re in love with an—”

“HARRINGTON, I SWEAR TO GOD.”

You and Nancy can vaguely hear the end of Eddie shouting something at Steve, but you’re both in the playroom now and the kids drown them out. Ryan and Natalie are using an array of crayons and markers to create masterpieces that are surely destined to hang on the refrigerators of their respective houses. Luke, Danny, and Theo are playing with Legos and Hot Wheels. The three young boys try to make obstacles for the toy cars to overcome out of the small plastic blocks. 

“I can’t lie,” Nancy says as the two of you take a seat on the couch at the far end of the room. “Steve and I were really impressed by the way you handled Theo and Luke’s candy bar argument.”

The praise catches you off guard but brings on a smile so large that it hurts your cheeks. 

“Oh, um, thank you! It wasn’t anything major,” you tell her. The music playing in the other room suddenly switches off and Nancy lets out a melodious chuckle. 

“I told Steve not to play Billy Joel,” Nancy says with a shake of her head, “not unless he wanted Eddie to kick his…” she trails off as she looks at the kids, “…butt.”

You’re not sure what to say in reply to that. Nancy knows the friendship between the two men far better than you do, having over a decade more of experience with them. Anything you could think to add would be so generic or minuscule next to any of her anecdotes about them that it would be obvious you’re just trying to fill the silence that is becoming more awkward by the moment. But you need to say something. 

“So,” you start, Nancy’s full attention coming back to you at the sound of your voice. “You saw the Innocent Man tour? How was that?”

“Oh, wow.” Nancy blows out a breath and looks down at the floor as if she’s trying to conjure up the memories. “It was forever ago…but from what I remember, it was amazing. He just kept singing and singing.”

Just imagining that brings a smile to your face. 

“Sometimes, I like to just focus on the piano keys and drown out everything else. Helps me clear my head,” you explain. 

Nancy nods along. “I find myself doing that when I’m driving. If I ever play it at home, the voices of four children drown it out and it’s a little harder to clear my head.”

“You really are a great mom, though,” you tell her. “I can see how much your kids adore you.” 

“Thank you,” Nancy says, a bit of emotion snaking its way into her voice. “And having a partner like Steve is the best.”

As if the sound of his name being spoken somewhere in the house summons him, a loud commotion comes from the room you’d left the two men in.

“Munson, let go of my nipple!”

“Not until you apologize!”

You and Nancy share an amused glance before shrugging at one another. Ryan even hears the ruckus and looks in that direction. When he sees that neither you nor his aunt are reacting, he goes back to his drawing. 

“Well, most of the time he’s the best,” Nancy says. 

The clock is ticking until Eddie and Steve come back in the room, but there’s something you feel the need to get off your chest while it’s just you two women there. 

“I have to be honest with you, Nancy,” you start. “I was so intimidated by you. Like, almost scared of you.”

“Of me?” Nancy asks, raising her eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

“Well, yeah,” you say with a huff of laughter. “I mean, just meeting you at Ryan’s birthday I could tell how sophisticated and intelligent you are. And then when Eddie talks about you — because as I’m sure you know, he loves talking about his friends — I heard how well accomplished you are and all that you’ve achieved and while being a mother of four. It’s beyond impressive.”

“That’s really sweet, actually.” Nancy gives you a shy smile and a touch of pink coats her sharp cheekbones. “But I promise, I’m a nice person. There’s no need to be afraid of me.”

For the rest of what you have to say, you find it harder to look Nancy in the eye as you speak. Your hands fiddle with a loose thread on your jeans as you cautiously glance back and forth from your thigh to the woman sitting next to you. 

“Plus,” you say before you can lose your nerve. “I know how I look from an outsider’s perspective.” You risk a glance over at the kids, and even though they’re busy playing, you still lower your voice. “Young babysitter starts working for a family and then the parents are separating and I…ya know. With an older man. I know what people are going to assume when they look at me. And I don’t care, I really don’t, because I love him. And he loves me. But I care what the people in Eddie’s life think. What his family and friends think. Of me.”

Nancy lets out a sigh and there’s a sympathetic look in her eye as she nods her head. 

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have some of those thoughts when I first found out about you two,” she confesses. “Not long, but longer than I’d like to admit. But you know what I said to Steve once we got home? That if you’re the light that lit a fire under Eddie’s ass to get him to dump Brittany, then thank God.” 

Questions you want to ask Nancy about Brittany fly into your head in rapid succession. It doesn’t sound like the two of them were close. Does everyone hate her? It’s not hard to believe at all, but you’d love to hear it from a perspective other than Eddie’s. But between not wanting to look like a gossiper and the fact that the guys make their way into the room, you keep your mouth shut. 

Nancy must share this sentiment, and possibly doesn’t want to discuss Brittany much in front of the kids, because she changes the subject as the men settle into seats around you.

“You’re in school, right?” Nancy asks you.

“I am,” you reply. “Finishing up my basic education courses.”

“Do you know what you want to do once you graduate?”

“Not a clue,” you admit with a sigh. “Right now, I’m really enjoying babysitting.”

“The kids love you,” Nancy gushes, leaning forward and resting her hand on your arm. “Not just Luke and Ryan—Natalie and Theo couldn’t stop talking about you, either.”

A sense of pride swells in your chest and you can’t help the bashful smile that grows on your lips.

“They’re all such great kids,” you say. 

“Would you happen to have time to add the four great Harrington kids to your schedule?”

Having Nancy ask you that question makes you feel about fifty pounds lighter. Not only is she acknowledging you as part of Eddie’s life, but also has enough trust and faith in you to watch her children. The acceptance by her, Steve, and the kids makes you more emotional than you would’ve thought. It takes a moment for you to compose yourself to answer without your voice trembling.

“Of course!”

Your shoulders sag in relief and you hear a familiar tune being hummed behind you. Turning in your spot to look behind you, you see Steve perched on the back of the couch, a smug smile on his face. It takes your brain a moment to realize it’s Uptown Girl that he’s humming. Letting out an overly dramatic irritated groan, Eddie lunges at Steve, who shrieks and covers his chest.

“Stay away from my nipples, Munson!”

Nancy sighs and shakes her head.

“Would you look at that? There’s two more kids I didn’t account for.”

[a-hazbin-reader]

Vox X Alastor's Marriage Headcanons

❌️Romantic

✅️Platonic

TW: Vox being a dick? Alastor sometimes being a dummy

Description: Different ways Vox involves himself in Alastor's marriage

Due to his constant surveillance, Vox knows just about everything he can about your marriage with Alastor

Once Alastor had forgotten your wedding anniversary and who ended up letting him know before the day was over? Vox.

When Alastor saw him coming he was sure Vox was there to pick a fight when suddenly flowers/chocolates/jewelry were being shoved into his arms

"You fucker! I can't believe you forgot your own anniversary! Do you know what your wife is doing to make today special for you!?"

Alastor was too stunned to even register the flick on the forehead Vox gives him before he leaves, still ranting about how Alastor is a careless husband

Or another time you were being moody for an entire week and Alastor couldn't figure out why but Vox knew the exact reason

He was all too happy to rub it in Alastor's face whenever he could, which was a lot considering how busy Alastor was with overlord meetings and such

Popping up on a nearby TV to give a news prompt about how Alastor's marriage was on the rocks and the clueless overlord didn't even know why

Smugly sipping a drink and smirking at Alastor from across the room while making jabs about his wife

Or stopping by the hotel to give you small gifts and his condolences because your husband is such an idiot

Or just making the reason for your moodiness worse by poking the bear and reminding you what he did

"Poor, poor Y/N...~ I'm sure you've been feeling so neglected by your husband lately~ He hasn't been making any time for you at all~"

Only to end up with the door slammed in his face and a cracked screen

Thinks it's hilarious when you two are fighting until it's not, which is usually when you two are too angry to react to his prodding anymore

It gets to a point where he's sick of it and it's no fun so then he's trying to get you guys to make amends

Sending you flowers pretending they're from Alastor, setting you two up on surprise dates and trying to subtly make you two miss each other

Plays a lot more romantic shows on the TV, putting in ads for jewelry/clothes that you might like whenever Alastor walks by a shop

He's weirdly excited too when it works but that's only because now he can go back to messing with Alastor

Will actually chase away anybody else who tries to come in between you two because that's HIS JOB

"Valentino! She's a married woman!!"

"AH! MIERDA!! That hurts!"

OR

"Oh! Y/N, just the woman I was looking to see. Just a quick heads up but there's some bright eye'd thing who-"

"Say no more, Vox."

It kills him if he doesn't know what's going on in your marriage and he'll eventually show up at your door

Usually holding tea or coffee, pretending it's some sort of important business until you two are sitting together in silence

"So...how are things between you and Alastor?"

"...Vox..."

Immediately cracks and throws himself at your feet-

"I'M DESPERATE! ARE YOU GUYS GONNA DIVORCE!? I NEED TO KNOW SO I CAN EMOTIONALLY PREPARE MYSELF!"

"We're not divorcing, we've just been taking time away from the public eye to spend together. Alone."

"Oh."

Vox is simultaneously rooting for your marriage while also plotting the end of it, yes it's confusing, yes it makes his head hurt

No, he won't stop

I couldn't get these ideas out of my head, I'll go back and fix mistakes later. Maybe add more, if you guys want to add more leave a comment and I'll add it with credit!!

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Girl, You're My Angel - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley Bradshaw's a down on his luck first baseman in the MLB, struggling to find his stride in the game he loves so much. A wedding invite from his ex-wife is enough to convince him to go for a drink, trying to forget about everything going on. He wasn't banking on meeting you though.

pairing: baseball!Bradley Bradshaw x reader (nicknamed Angel)

warnings/content: baseball au, mentions of divorce, smoking, alcohol, reference to drunk driving, bar fight, mentions of blood, Bradley having a dirty mind.

word count: 3k.

taglist (also tagging those who were interested in Take One For The Team since it's a similar vibe and explains the lack of updates lol): @avengersfan25, @jessicab1991, @atarmychick007, @b-bradshaw, @nouis-bum, @mamachasesmayhem, @floydsmuse, @kmc1989, @dckweed, @katfanfic, @nerdgirljen, @whatislovevavy, @mrsevans90, @averyhotchner, @yuckosworld, @tgmreader, @allepaula, @lourd-ita, @mariaenchanted

The booming bass drum of a classic rock song thumped in your head as you gripped the cocktail glass in your hand. The liquid sloshed around in the glass as you danced, swaying to and fro with your best friends, trying your best to enjoy yourself on your girls’ night out. Your finals had just wrapped up, and you were this much closer to earning your masters, the only thing standing between you and getting that embossed sheet of paper, was your grades. To unwind after the cram sessions you’d mustered your way through for the past month, your friends dragged you out to some new amusement bar in the Gaslamp Quarter. 

Across the bar, on the other side of the room, stood Bradley Bradshaw, a once promising baseball star who now, had earned himself a reputation as the MLB’s resident asshole - unable to take criticism or a loss without lashing out at someone. His recent stunt involved hurling his baseball bat across the diamond when he struck out in practice, frustrated with his sudden lack of skill, a skill that once came so naturally to him when his mind wasn’t preoccupied. 

The invitation had come in the mail two days before the bat throwing incident. His ex-wife, the one who left him two and a half years ago, was remarrying the fucking prick she cheated on Bradley with. The invite had come completely out of the blue, and when Bradley opened it, he felt all of the air leave his lungs as his fingers traced over the gold embossed lettering, donning her name and the name of her new fiancé. He’d never admit it to anyone, but that single piece of cardstock had been enough to reduce him to tears, slumping down the kitchen wall as he hugged his knees to his chest, crying loud enough that it made him thankful he had no neighbours near by.

Bradley had pulled himself together, lit a cigarette from the pack he’d been nursing for the last few months, reserved only for social events and times of pure stress, and got in his vintage Ford Bronco, his first purchase when he signed his first contract. Taking a drag from the cigarette, his brown eyes scanned over San Diego’s downtown core as he cruised past a few of the typical nightlife spots - each one a little too public for what he wanted. All other options exhausted, he pulled up outside of a newer bar that had opened the previous week, neon lights advertising an arcade on one side and drinks on the other. 

He figured if nothing else, a couple of rounds of Pac-Man on an old video game after a handful of beers might do him good. He could leave the Bronco parked there and walk to the hotel around the corner, and forget about how his ex-wife’s wedding was coming up in six months, how she’d had the audacity to invite him to see her marrying the guy he’d walked in on her with.  

He sidled up to the bar, nodding his head to the bartender in thanks as he ordered himself a beer. Standing across from him was a group of women, not much younger than him, gossiping and giggling together. He sized the group up, thinking to himself that maybe a one-night deal was what he needed to take his mind off his ex. 

You were the tallest girl of the group, with bright eyes, and hair brushed back in a sleek, high ponytail, sporting a form-fitting cocktail dress that made Bradley’s heart race when he saw you. He pounded back the rest of his beer, trying to find his confidence in himself once again in the comfort of the drink. 

Bradley set his empty bottle down on the bar top before walking his way around the circular counter. He rested his elbow on the bar, leaning in with a broad smile as you looked in his direction. He offered a polite wave of his hand, chuckling awkwardly as he felt his confidence wavering as he spoke to you. 

“Hey, could I buy you a drink? He said simply, his Virginian accent dropping into a thicker drawl than usual.

“I’m good, thanks, still got one,” You held up your half-full glass and shook your head politely, not wanting to reject him too brutally. 

Bradley nodded his head once at you, his smile faltering for a second. He quickly regained himself, smiling once again politely before grabbing himself another beer and heading over to the arcade, resolving that a couple of old-school video games might make his night a little better. 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to rejection - he’d been turned down almost as often as he’d been accepted, but for some reason, your rejection stung just that little bit more. Maybe it was the wedding invitation still making things sour, or maybe it was the fact that the mere sight of a girl hadn’t been enough to make his heart accelerate like this in a long time. He shook his head once, trying to focus his train of thought once again on something, anything other than what was currently occupying it. 

Baseball? Too stressful, his game was starting to slip up on him. Buying a puppy? No, it’d just be one more thing he could let down. Hitting the gym? He already went 6 days a week - if he went any more frequently, he’d have to consider moving his bed in there. 

His mind raced as he pressed the buttons on the video game, moving the small yellow circle across the screen, collecting points between sips of beer. Behind him, he heard a couple of guys shouting at a tv screen, the sound of the latest sports highlights blaring out in the background. 

“This Bradshaw asshole needs to get his shit together. Twenty-nine and he plays about as well as my ten year old. Drop him down to the minors or get rid of the bastard. He shouldn’t be missing plays like this.” One of the voices shouted at the tv, his friends nodding their heads in silent agreement with his rant.

Bradley felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention as the insults about his playing continued to spout from this guy’s mouth. He couldn’t have been much older than Bradley was, one of those armchair commentators who probably hadn’t swung a bat since Little League. As the criticism continued, each jab focused directly at Bradley’s game performance, missing one play that cost a game - one that he’d already been feeling pissed off about - it became harder to ignore. 

“I bet that hot little piece of ass wife of his left him because she knew he was a dogshit baseball player.” 

Bradley spun around on his heels so fast that he swore the room was spinning. He turned to face the group, crowded in a corner in front of the tv, faces all glued to the female commentator. Bradley could practically hear the derogatory thoughts they were having about her and it only fuelled his anger more. 

“Hey, man, if you’ve got an issue with how I play the game, I’d like to see you get off your ass and go play nine innings against Boston. Keep my ex-wife’s name out of your mouth.” Bradley scoffed, narrowing his dark brown eyes at the trio. 

“You got a problem, jackass?” The other man growled, raising an eyebrow at Bradley as he slammed his drink down on the table. “She probably left you for that rookie because even she knew you weren’t good for anything.”

“That so? Your wife would probably like to go a couple rounds with me though.” Bradley retorted, a devilish smirk forming on his face as he folded his muscular arms across his chest. 

Before Bradley had time to blink, the man drew back his arm and landed a hard punch to Bradley’s jaw. Bradley quickly delivered a stronger hit to the man’s face, watching him stumble backwards for a second. Bradley turned around and walked outside, getting ready to light another cigarette as he ran his hand over his jaw, assessing if he had any damage to worry about. 

The man returned, practically running outside after Bradley. More heated words were exchanged, insults flying between them both before the man delivered another hit, this time to Bradley’s nose. He shook his hand off and headed off down the street with his friends, disappearing off to the next bar. Bradley held his nose, blood dripping down from his nostrils and onto his hand. 

You and your friends had heard the commotion when it unfolded inside, and decided to head out, having enough excitement for one night. As you stepped out, you saw the man who’d hit on you earlier, this time with his nose bleeding onto the pavement under him. You ran over to him, raising an eyebrow.

“What did you do, hit on a girl who had a boyfriend?” You asked playfully as you rooted through your purse for something to help clean his nose.

“Called a guy out for saying my ex-wife was a “hot piece of ass”, actually,” Bradley nodded once, gratefully taking the tissues from you and using them to clean his nose. 

“Stick your hand out for a sec,” you instructed, squirting a dollop of scented hand sanitizer into his large palm before raising an eyebrow at him, “You don’t have anything I could catch from helping you without gloves?”

“What the hell is that suppose to mean?” Bradley scoffed, trying to laugh but wincing instead, “And why the fuck does my hand smell like a flower?”

“Lavender hand sanitizer. It’s not as good as washing your hands, but it’ll do while we’re outside. And I’m going to hold the tissues in place while you rub it into your hands, but I don’t want to catch something. I’m just fresh out of latex gloves.”

“Good thing. I’m allergic,” he laughed, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to brave through the pain, “I’m clean. You’re fine. I get drug tested and physicals through work constantly.” 

“What kind of a job provides those? Military?” 

“Professional athlete.” He nodded as you pinched the tissues to his nose, applying pressure to help with the bleeding. “Fuck, that hurts.”

“Your nose is broken, it’s suppose to hurt.”

“What are you, a doctor?”

“No, just wrote my finals for a masters in nursing.”

“Close enough,” Bradley nodded slightly, cringing as you continued to apply pressure to his nose.

You rooted through your purse, laughing softly as you pulled a tampon out of your bag. Bradley raised an eyebrow at you, not quite registering what the item was until you pulled the plastic wrapping off of it, stuffing the garbage back into your purse.

“What the fuck do you plan on doing with that?”

“I need to stick it up your nose on the left side. It’s bleeding more than I’d like to see, and a broken nose should probably be set in a medical setting. This way, you won’t bleed all over my car.”

“Your car? You’ve been drinking.”

“Half a vodka-cran over the span of three hours? I think I’m probably not gonna blow over the limit.”

“You are not sticking that up my nose,” he replied stubbornly, arms folding over his chest like a petulant child. 

“Look at your shirt,” you laughed, gesturing to the white floral print button down he was wearing, its collar now tinged with red and pink splotches. 

“Fine,” he said with a reluctant sigh, “but if anyone finds out about this, I’m denying it.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you nodded as you offered him the plastic applicator. 

Bradley rolled his eyes and reluctantly pressed the bottom of the applicator, pushing the tampon into the edge of his nose. He looked at you with another dramatic eyeroll and shook his head before walking down the street to a garbage can. He discarded the applicator before turning to face you, sighing. 

“I can take myself to a hospital, you know.”

“I’m already here, I may as well come with you. Besides, I feel kinda bad about turning you down.”

“Oh, so you’re taking care of me out of pity?” He teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe. Even more so with a tampon hanging out of your nose.”

“It’s quite the fashion statement, isn’t it?” He laughed softly, unbuttoning his dress shirt. He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, revealing a clean white t-shirt. 

You unlocked your car, the familiar beep as the doors unlocked causing Bradley to stifle a laugh.

“What is that?!” 

“My car,” you responded matter-of-factly, “What does it look like?”

“One of those cars for a Barbie doll that my goddaughter plays with,” he said as he flourished his hand, gesturing to your pink steering wheel cover and coordinating seat cover.

“Listen, I like pink. Now are you getting in, or do I have to make you?”

Bradley’s eyes widened for a moment, your playful threat of making him get into the car sending his mind into a frenzy again. He eyed you up and down again, and found himself shaking his head as he wondered what colour underwear you had on under your dress. He bet it was probably a coordinating pink set - the kind that Victoria’s Secret mannequins would model in the store window, with delicate little bows or lace or something adorning them. 

Focus, Bradley. She doesn’t want to sleep with you. Stop thinking about her.

He sat down in the passenger’s seat, watching as you hopped into the driver’s side. As you pulled away from the curb, he raised an eyebrow at your choice in music as Taylor Swift started blaring from the speaker.

“You can change it if you want to,” you nodded. “You can put on whatever.”

“No, no, It’s fine. I actually like this song.”

“You said you’re a professional athlete? What sport do you play?”

“Baseball,” he said, slowly nodding his head, “my headshot’s on a flag outside of Petco Park.”

“I thought I recognized you, you’re that player everyone always talks about, right?”

“Unfortunately. It’s rarely good things.”

“How come?”

Bradley sighed, raising an eyebrow, “You know they talk about me but not why?”

“I don’t follow baseball, I've actually never even seen a game, live or on tv. I just know my friend does and she told me everyone talks about you. Bradshaw, right? Number 10?”

“Yeah, that’s me. Bradley Bradshaw. First baseman, used to have a promising career, then, you know, wife cheats on me with a rookie from a rival team, catch her in a hotel room that I paid for with him, and then, despite me stupidly telling her I forgave her and you know what, I was pissed, but I loved her anyway and I blamed myself for her cheating, she served me divorce papers. Said I was incapable of loving anything but baseball. Says the woman who refused to do anything with me when I tried to be loving and affectionate. My friends swear she only married me for the status and the paycheck. Her new fiancé just signed a multi-million dollar contract that’s being talked about as one of the highest in the league, so it sort of checks out.” 

“Jeez,” you whistled, shaking your head, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It was two and half years ago. I just, I haven’t found my stride again yet, I guess.” 

“Is that why you got defensive about her?”

“They said she left me for this other guy because she knew I was a dogshit ball player. I mean, it’s probably not far off. But, I got an invite for her wedding in the mail today, and I was already on edge, so I sort of…snapped.”

“She invited you?!” 

“Yeah, like that, huh? She probably thought I have someone new I’m seeing and that we could still be friends or some shit.”

“So you need a date?”

“I’m not going,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “I’m not going.”

“Why not? Free drinks for a night, you can wish her well while secretly hoping her husband’s ball career washes out on him in a year or two.”

Bradley chuckled, shrugging his shoulders as he gestured his hand towards you, “I like your thinking actually, but I’m not going alone.”

“I’ll go with you,” you offered, shrugging your shoulders, “When is it?”

“In six months, you don’t need to come with me though. I’ll send her some cheap gift and call it a day.”

“No,” you insisted as you pulled into a parking space at the hospital’s urgent care clinic, “I’ll come with you. I love a good revenge story. Besides, it could be fun. I’ve never partied with a bunch of baseball players before.”

“You’re…you’re something else, you know that?”

“You mean, you don’t have dozens of women offering you a tampon to stop your nosebleed, driving you to the hospital and then offering to accompany you to your ex-wife’s wedding date?” you challenged.

“Can’t say that I do, no.”

“Well, I’m honoured to be your first.” 

Bradley couldn’t help his ear to ear grin as he followed you into the hospital. Despite his bloodied, battered nose, which was hurting more than he cared to let on, and his fledging career, falling apart around him as he stood there, he felt genuinely excited. Excited to get to know you better. Excited to see where things went with you. He felt a promising sense in your words - like maybe, just maybe, he might be able to be done with one-night-stands and empty beds in the morning. He felt giddy, like a teenager going on a first date with his high school crush. He wasn’t sure if it was the pain from his nose or the alcohol talking, but he was almost convinced you were a guardian angel of sorts. Refusing to believe that someone like you could be anything but. 

First things first though, he needed to bring you to a baseball game. 

[seat-safety-switch]

You might have subway trains near you. What most people don't know is that a subway train is actually a cross-bred hybrid, between a naval submarine and a train. Getting this breeding to happen is an incredibly difficult task that requires tons of specialists, which is part of why subway trains are so rare. It's also kind of gross, if you ask me, but such candid discussion of this is beyond the scope of this article.

For years, when I had a productive life in the great rat race, I would ride the subway to work every day. After awhile, the childish joy of getting into a magic tube that shoots you across the city fades, to be replaced with annoyance at every little thing. It's five minutes late. Smells kind of weird. That guy is too loud. His kid is a weird aspect ratio. Things keep flickering at the edges of my vision, and voices nobody else can hear keep whispering that I should buy a 1980 Pontiac Trans Am Turbo. That kind of thing.

Taking a vacation helps, sure, but it doesn't get rid of this feeling. The only thing that will help is changing up your routine. A lot of people buy a car at this point, and then the routine is very different every day, because driving is highly variable even when you are just doing the same drive with the same people. Today you get brake-checked merging onto the highway, because the guy in front of you with the 4Runner is having a messy divorce. Tomorrow there will be a full-blown riot outside the city centre because someone tried to add bike lanes, and you get a rock thrown at your windshield. Next week, maybe the Tim Hortons that you're lined up in the drive-thru for catches fire because of a miscreant bagel. You get a cool story for all your coworkers every day, as opposed to "I rode in a shiny metal cylinder for the better part of an hour while doing a sudoku."

For me, I don't subscribe to that kind of thing. There's no reason to involve other people, or commuting, in your daily tale of goin'-to-work woe. Most of my automobiles are perfectly capable of creating a road horror story of their very own, just driving five blocks to the pet food store. I do, however, miss having coworkers to tell it to. My parole officer doesn't seem to care. His parole officer doesn't give any larger of a shit. That's why I've started riding the subway, and giving impromptu stump speeches about how bad things are, up there, on the surface. It gives people a story to tell about the crazy dude on the train, and anyone who actually listens is a little more reassured that they took the magic tube instead of taking their chances on the roads with people like me.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

Right person, Wrong time | Hopelessly Devoted to You Part 3

Summary: Part 3 to this. Elliot crosses a line, and you turn to Harry, once again.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, and domestic violence. Crying, cursing and alcohol too.

(previous part here) | (main masterlist)

“What?!”

His face was in pure shock, anger clearly bubbling inside him. He had clenched his fists beside him shortly after that, 

You looked down at your lap, staring at your nails. 

“Look at me”

He demanded, almost ready to get up from the couch and storm at you if you didn’t listen.

You tilted your face up, looking directly into his eyes as he fumed with anger.

You dreaded this moment for so long. Tell him that you were going for a divorce. Even though Harry told you it would be better if you threw the divorce papers at his face, but you wanted to do it in a more civilized way.

After all, he had been your husband for 5 years, and there was a child involved.

“Yeah…” you blurted out after a breath or two, and he shook his head, smiling.

“You’re kidding, right? This is just some…what do they call it? Prank. A prank to make me softer, huh?”

You shook your head in no.

“You’re divorcing me?!” he asked, as if that wasn’t the entire point of discussion, and the exact sentence you had started the conversation with.

“Yeah.” you sighed.

He got up from his place, taking long strides and coming to you, hovering over you.

“You’re going to divorce me? You’re nothing, Y/n. How the fuck did you get the balls anyways? Huh? You met someone when you went on that little camping trip with Ellie?”

You never suspected him to find that out.

“Oh, I knew it. Should’ve just locked you at home and I should have been to go with her. Who is that bastard anyway? Huh? Fucking brainwashed you into believing that you can leave me? ME?!” he yelled.

You flinched slightly but never broke eye contact. You knew you had to be strong right now if you wanted things to go your way.

“I will leave you. I am going to leave you. And I’ll fucking make sure I take Ellie with me.” 

And that was when he lost it. He raised his hand at you, aiming to hit you across the face with it, but you stopped him. Grabbed his hand immediately and pushed him away, and he fell on the floor.

And then, you ran for your life.

You ran to the nearest room, and immediately locked it, placing a chair for extra safety.

A few moments passed, and the house was completely silent. You had been witty enough to leave Ellie at your mom’s, and had told her that you were going on a date with Elliot.

It was the complete opposite of what was happening currently.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of a vase breaking, and you knew he was at the peak. He would have killed you if you had been outside right now. 

Vases, a couple of utensils, and then you heard the front door close and shut. Then, a few moments later, his car drove away.

You sighed in relief, unlocking the door to go back and clean up the mess he had made.

***

Harry was stressed.

He knew he had to figure out everything perfectly, before you applied for the divorce because he knew Elliot the asshole would appeal in a family court. And he never wanted him to get the custody of little Ellie.

He would fight his best to make sure you get all you deserve, and he is left with nothing. He would make sure of it, because you deserve nothing less than the absolute best.

Maybe this was the hopeless romantic in him speaking, but he would have it the same either way.

He was out drinking after work that night, sitting alone on the bar and taking small sips of his martini.

Another gentleman came in shortly and sat beside him. Harry gave him a once over, and he could tell he had been in a fight.

His nostrils were flared, face was full of anger. His knuckles were red too, signaling he had broken stuff.

“Spiced rum, on the rocks' ' he said, and the bartender behind the bar nodded, before turning around and getting his drink ready.

Odd drink for a Thursday night, Harry thought.

As soon as he gave him the drink, he drank it all in a few sips, without stopping, and placed the glass back, a little too harshly, immediately ordering another.

An alcoholic.

He saw Harry eyeing him, so he spoke up, “Something wrong, man”” he asked, the frown on his face consistent.

He shook his head, speaking to him as politely as possible.

“No–uh, nothing, I was just curious about your drink”

Normally, someone would stop the conversation, minding their own business. But, he wanted to pry.

“Something weird about it?”

He shook his head quickly, because the last thing he wanted, was to get in a fight with a stranger, who was an alcoholic.

“Hmm”

He grunted, and he drank 4 more of the same drink. He called for the check, and fished his wallet from his pockets. He pulled out his card, and placed it on the table.

The bartender was busy with someone else, so Harry got a look at the name on it.

“Elliot Harris”

Like Y/n Harris.

So he was the Elliot who he was going to fight against a couple weeks later.

Sweet.

***

He didn’t go home that night. Maybe it was because of the news you had shared with him, or maybe it was because he never wanted to see your face again.

But he did want to know where Ellie was, so he called his parents. They said they didn’t have her, so he figured she would be with your parents, and without a second thought, began to drive to your place.

All the while he was drunk.

Harry had called you as soon as he got out of the bar and asked a million times if you were okay. You assured him that Elliot didn’t hit you, just tried to. But you were safe from your monster of a husband.

He let out a sigh of relief, before hanging up, but he also told you that he was quite drunk, and had driven away in a haste.

He wouldn’t come home, you knew that.

And he would go to your mom’s.

You dialled her number as soon as Harry hung up, and told her to lock all doors and windows, and put Ellie to sleep. Elliot was drunk, and would definitely go there and make a scene, all of which would get recorded in the security camera she had outside, and that would help your case.

And by God’s grace, it turned out exactly as you had anticipated, and everything was recorded, how he yelled and threw stuff at your gate, telling her to give him her daughter back. Thankfully, Ellie was asleep, and your mom had also made her wear noise-cancelling headphones.

And the next day, you gave the footage to Harry.

“You think–this would help us?” 

You had been super cautious since the morning and kept the house locked at all times. You changed the lock too, so he would not be able to enter without you letting him in.

And then you drove over to Harry’s law office and gave him the footage.

He was so happy about it. Not only was he an eyewitness to all that had happened, but they also had proof that he was an alcoholic and was abusive.

Harry was going to win this trial. He was sure of it. But would his feelings for you also win?

***

The next day, you drove Ellie to school. She was scared of her father, you could tell. But she still had no idea what was going on.

You had brought her home the day after. Ellliot hadn’t shown up for two days, so you figured he was staying at a hotel, still angry at you about the divorce. Good for all three of you.

Ellie was sitting on the seat beside you, a look of seriousness on her face, contrasting to the happiness that used to be when you drove her. You were dreading that she was going to ask something, and you wished it wasn’t so bad.

 “Is daddy angry, mommy?” she asked, and your heart fell. She was so sweet and innocent; but seeing her father get angry like that must have broken her heart.

“Yes, cupcake. But that was nothing to worry about, okay? Daddy is not angry anymore”

You lied.

“But–but mommy, why isn’t he coming home, then?”

“It’s ‘cause he has work in some other city”

You hoped she wouldn’t ask what work he had, or what city he was in. But her expression was more of a confused one.

“But–but mommy! He came to pick me up from school the other day, with some uncle”

“What?!”

Your heart raced as panic seized you. Elliot had come to pick Ellie up from school? With a stranger? The thought sent chills down your spine, your mind racing with worst-case scenarios. How could he be so reckless, especially after what had happened between you two?

Maintaining your composure for Ellie's sake, you gripped the steering wheel tighter, your mind racing with emotions. Fear, anger, and a profound sense of protectiveness surged within you, fueling your need to shield Ellie from any harm.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to Ellie, your voice calm but firm. "Ellie, can you tell me more about this uncle–who came with Daddy?"

Ellie hesitated, her gaze flickering with uncertainty. "He was big, Mommy. And he had tattoos all over his arms. Daddy said he was his friend, but I didn't recognize him. I didn't want to go with them."

Your heart etched at her words. How could he do something like that? How could he put Ellie in such danger, exposing her to a stranger without a second thought? What if something wrong happened? You shook your head, not wanting your mind to think more about it.

Turning to face her, you reached out and gently squeezed her hand, offering her a reassuring smile. "Ellie, sweetheart, I want you to know that no matter what happens, Mommy will always be here to keep you safe. You don't ever have to be afraid, okay?"

She nodded, her little fingers holding yours, and you felt so sad while dropping her off. You wanted to hold her close to you and never let her go.

Ellie walked out of the car, and came running to the other side. She kissed your cheek, murmuring, “I love you, mommy,” before kissing you once again, and walking inside, fixing her backpack that was falling off one shoulder.

And as you watched her walk away, you couldn’t help but think about what he had done. That was insane of him, and you were not going to let him get away with this so easily.

***

Harry was engrossed in paperwork when you reached his office. His brow furrowed in concentration, his mind fully immersed in the task at hand. But as soon as his eyes fell upon you, his expression softened, and a warm smile graced his lips.

You entered his office with a gloomy and scared face, your shoulders slumped with worries.

"Y/n," Harry greeted, his voice laced with concern as he rose from his seat. "Is everything alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

You took a seat opposite to him. Harry's presence gave you comfort during the chaos.

"I...I don't know where to begin, Harry," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. 

"It's Elliot...he's...he's crossed a line, Harry. I'm scared for Ellie, for myself...I don't know what to do."

Harry's expression softened further, his eyes filled with empathy as he reached out and gently squeezed your hand. "Tell me everything, Y/n," he urged, his voice gentle but firm. "I'm here for you, whatever you need."

You opened up, telling him everything that your daughter had told you. His expression shifted as soon as he heard it all, his face now matching yours.

“I don’t know what to do, Harry. I–I feel so scared. Not for myself, but for Ellie. What if–wif, what if he took her away that day, Harry? What–what would I do, then? I–”

He got up from his chair, walking across the table and coming to sit by your side. He held your hand, tears welling in your eyes as you laid your head on his shoulders and cried.

"Take a deep breath, Y/n. We'll figure this out together," he reassured you. "I'm here for you," he said softly, his words a reminder that you were not alone in this fight. He was there for you, always. No matter how worse it got, no matter what happened.

“Thank–thank you, Harry” you said, and he nodded, stroking your back and trying to calm you down. 

Once you did calm down, you realized how close he was. Your head was now on his chest, right on his heart and you could hear his heartbeat thump in your ears. The two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, and the smell of his cologne invaded your senses.

Your heart fluttered as you felt him pull your hair away from your face, his fingertips touched your face, and you almost melted.

But, this was wrong. Growing feelings for him was wrong. He was a good friend, who was willing to help you out of your disaster of a marriage without taking charge. It would feel like you were taking advantage of him, pulling him into your already fucked up life.

And he probably definitely had a girlfriend. Given how handsome and kind he was, there was no way he wasn't taken.

You cursed yourself for even thinking about him that way. It was wrong, selfish and doomed to end badly. It always does when you love someone. They leave, or end up hurting you. 

However, Harry felt differently.

This was the most close to him you had gotten, and he was on cloud nine. His hand was on your shoulder, soothing you while your head lay on his chest.

He was happy that he was the one you turned to for comfort. He felt comfort knowing that he was the person you went to when you felt unsafe. His heart felt happy, even though it shouldn't, given the situation you were in. 

It’s always the damned situation, isn’t it?

Right person, wrong time.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[demon-country]

One thing I really appreciate about Helluva Boss is how well Stolas' abuse by Stella is depicted and how seriously it's taken. So often the abuse of men by women is overlooked, diminished, and scoffed at, and it's so relieving that the narrative never does that.

Like most abusers, Stella is shown to be very controlling. She's furious that Stolas ruined her reputation, she demands that he stops singing, she tries to hit him when he talks back, she threatens him multiple times, she's trying to take all of his assets and leave him with nothing, etc. It wouldn't surprise me if when the abuse is exposed (because it seems likely that it will be), it's revealed that she controlled him in other ways too, like dictating what he could eat, what he could wear, what emotions he could show in public, and what he was allowed to do outside of work. Because that's what abusers like her do.

It's no wonder that Stolas, who has longed for connection his entire life, still has no friends and no support system. Stella likely controlled who he associated with, and we see on screen how she loudly and publicly humiliates him without any of the people around her batting an eye. This is a common isolation tactic, serving the double purpose of wearing away whatever is left of Stolas' self-esteem and turning public opinion against him. And she's apparently done it for so long that not only is he resigned to it, the other party guests nearby either don't care or laugh at him with her. Notice also that even though everyone else is mingling in groups, no one is talking to Stolas and he's still standing near Stella despite how visibly upsetting he finds it to hear her mock the way he dissociated while she was sexually assaulting him.

Stolas finding the courage to leave her after making an external connection with Blitz, and now that Octavia is very nearly an adult, is also pretty realistic. Blitz is brave and brash and made Stolas feel alive and happy, things it's implied he's only felt with Octavia before, and that encouraged him to follow Blitz's example. Stolas goes from trying to placate Stella in Loo Loo Land, to stopping her from hitting him and telling her to get out of his house for good, even though the way he backs away as she approaches and then collapses when she leaves shows that he's still very scared of her. He's struggling to take control of his own life and has decided to fight back, despite how dangerous that is for him.

And it is, indeed, dangerous. Unfortunately, as is so common in cases of real domestic abuse, Stella attempted to kill him after he began trying to leave her, in an effort to control him once and for all. Escaping domestic abuse is hard, complicated, terrifying, and often incredibly risky for this reason, and I'm glad that they didn't shy away from it. It's well documented that the most dangerous time for an abuse victim is after they try to leave, so the escalation from being able to hide most of the abuse from Octavia, to being openly violent with him in front of Octavia when Stella's control started slipping after the affair began and he announced that he wanted a divorce, to her taking lethal action when he refused to call off either, makes it the most realistic depiction of intimate partner violence I've seen in a long time.

The writers also makes a point to show how witnessing abuse and its aftereffects hurts any children involved as well, which is important. Octavia was sheltered from witnessing most of the abuse for a long time, but once Stella became more blatant and open with it, it rocked Octavia's world and left her feeling deeply insecure. Fighting back against Stella was healing for Stolas, who was finally starting to feel alive and a little more control of his own narrative, but seeing the fighting did hurt Octavia. And we don't even know what the social fallout of the divorce will be yet, so it's possible that even if Stolas had made his escape when she was younger that Octavia still could have been caught in the crossfire. Generational trauma like that isn't always acknowledged, so I like how they show that abuse hurts more than just the direct victim, and that sometimes collateral is inevitable.

I have high hopes for where they take Stolas and Octavia's healing arc, since they've done such a good job with showing how Stolas' childhood neglect and intimate partner violence affects him and his relationships. The way his lifelong abuse has seeped into just about everything he does isn't something I've seen acknowledged too often in the fannish spaces I've been exposed to, but I have a feeling that we'll soon be getting to a part in the story where we're told more about it and not just shown it.

[payphoneangel]

Supernatural: The Showrunner's Challenge

A writing challenge/exercise

I saw this post and thought it would be really fun to make a SPN specific version. Some of these I tweaked from the OG post, some are the exact same, and others are brand new. If you like this, please give the OG post some love for the creators great idea!!

Think you can write better than the showrunners of Supernatural? Let’s find out! This prompt is a writing exercise/challenge to create a ‘season’ of Supernatural via fanfic. Each chapter functions as an episode.

Prompt:

To start, think of what you would change about SPN if you were its showrunner. Would you scrap everything and start from new? Keep the series going with a new season? Pick a spot in the show and diverge from there? Ignore all the plot and play dolls with your favorite characters? 

Write a chapter that works as the Pilot of the show you want to see. At the end of each episode, roll a d12 to see what you must include in the following episode:

Roll a d12:

1. Everything at once: Roll twice, use both. If you get 1 again, keep rolling. Your only way out is to stop getting 1s. 

2. TMWWBK: Give every character in the previous chapter a number. Using a dice roll/random number generator, the character whose number is selected is now the main subject and POV of the next episode. 

For a greater challenge: include any character mentioned by name and any character with dialogue. (i.e. If Sam mentions Bobby, give him a number. If the waitress at a diner talks to Dean, give her a number)

3. Fan favorite: Your most recently mentioned character (or named object) is now beloved by the audience. You must give them a bigger part in the story, a special destiny, or an important new romance or friendship. 

If you roll 3 again; the character must get killed off to motivate their friends/allies/love interest or to serve the plot.

If you roll 3 a third time; either start over OR they come back from the dead.

4. High Concept Episode: Due to plot/MOTW/meddling gods/whatever, the characters are trapped in a different genre than usual. Roll a d6. 

High Fantasy/Sci-Fi

Apocalypse/Alternate Reality 

Time Travel/Time loop

Sit-com/Meta

Crossover/Stuck in a video Game

Slasher/Death Game

5. Filler episode: The next chapter must be completely low stakes and set you at ease. 

For a greater challenge: Flip a coin for each main character. 

Heads: Their filler is full of thoughtful inner world building and characterization

Tails: They are interrogating the milves (i.e. doing something silly and stupid)

6. Mothership: The next chapter must include the characters making references to/listening to/arguing about/having a feelings jam accompanied by... Classic Rock. 

Bonus: If you roll three 6’s in a row, introduce a Lucifer plotline (If you were ALREADY writing about Lucifer.... kill him).

7. Fallen Angels and Special Children: If the last character mentioned in the previous episode has special abilities, they lose them. If that character does not have special abilities, they gain them.

8. The Focus Group: The execs created a focus group to see if audiences would like more romance in the show. Flip a coin to determine the outcome:

Heads: The audience is into it and so are the execs! The next episode needs to involve a deep, sappy confession of either love or admiration between two characters that have not previously been romantically involved. 

Tails: The audience is into it but the execs aren't so sure... The next episode needs to introduce a budding romance between two characters that is only ever alluded to, but never stated outright.

If you roll 8 again:

If you got Heads on the previous flip: The characters have a messy breakup/divorce.

If you got Tails on the previous flip: One character dies right after outright stating their romantic feelings for the other.

9. Familiar Faces: A character from a different season is (re)introduced and becomes plot relevant. (ex: if you’re writing early seasons, include Kevin, Rowena, Ketch, Dagon, ect. If you’re writing late seasons, include Rufus, Cassie, Ava, Bela, ect.)

For greater challenge, assign characters a number and select via dice roll OR

Use a tumblr poll to have followers select

10. J2 Fallout: The two most recently mentioned characters' actors have, IRL, gone through a VERY messy divorce or friend breakup. You cannot put them in the same scene, but they must both remain relevant to the show. 

If you roll 10 again, they reconcile. 

11. Deep Analysis: Roll a d6. The next episode must include the theme of:

Grief

Bodily Autonomy

Family don’t end in blood

Family is Hell/Absent Fathers and Absent Gods

What makes a monster monstrous

Love

12. Are we ever really done? The most recently mentioned character's actor has decided to leave the show. Kill off their character. 

If you roll 12 again for another episode, the character returns.

There's a few bonuses to a character returning, so if you so choose, Flip a coin. 

Heads: the actor chose to come back and the character looks the same. 

Tails: the actor did not reprise their role so the character has a "new vessel." 

The other bonus flip:

Heads: upon return, the character is on the side of the protags 

Tails: upon return, the character is working against the protags

Have fun and happy writing <3

Please feel free to tweak this game however works best for you. And if anyone does actually end up writing and posting something based off this, PLEASE tag me bc I wanna see lmao

Tagging a few writing buddies who might get a kick out of this: @kerryweaverlesbian @shallowseeker @bloodydeanwinchester @gryptids @kingflups

[growingstories]

Enrico

Enrico, a very handsome Spanish chef, stood tall and broad at 6 feet in height. At 39 years old, he exuded confidence and charm. Enrico had a love for life, evident in his glowing smile and twinkling eyes. He possessed an amazing chest and broad shoulders, but also sported a bit of a belly, evidence of his culinary indulgences. Despite this, Enrico was content with his appearance and embraced his curves. He ran a successful restaurant in the popular coastal city of Marbella, where he knew everyone and was well-respected in the culinary world. Married with three children, Enrico cherished his family life but occasionally slept around, seeking excitement and adventure in brief encounters. His wife was unaware of his infidelities, or so he thought.

Enrico's life took an unexpected turn when his wife discovered his secret affairs. Driven by hurt and betrayal, she demanded a divorce. In the settlement, Enrico faced a significant financial payout to his ex-wife. Determined to reinvent himself, Enrico vowed to make a change as he approached his 40th birthday. He decided to dive headfirst into fitness and joined a gym.

As Enrico committed himself to his newfound fitness routine, he gradually regained his young and sculpted physique. He even managed to achieve six-pack abs once again. With his irresistible charm intensified by his new body, Enrico found himself being pursued by numerous admirers. Every night, he had a different woman in his bed, embracing the life of pleasure and luxury. His restaurant business also flourished, bringing in money like water.

One fateful evening, whilst under the influence of alcohol, Enrico encountered a vivacious young woman named Julia. Intrigued by her magnetic energy, Enrico was surprised when she expressed her desire to involve her gay friend, Gio, in their encounter. With curiosity and an open mind, Enrico participated in a thrilling threesome with Julia and Gio. The experience awakened desires and emotions within him that he had never felt a connection he shared with Gio during this encounter sparked something special. Gio, a 25-year-old wealthy individual living in his parents' holiday home, became the object of Enrico's affections, and soon they began dating, even incorporating threesomes into their relationship.

As their love blossomed, Gio and Enrico started spending more time together. Gio would often visit Enrico's restaurant, bringing along his rich friends and celebrities, leading to a booming business. However, their relationship remained a secret among the staff. Gio would always be the last guest, and Enrico found solace in hanging out and drinking at Gio's table. The staff made sure Enrico's glass was never empty. Late-night Burger King visits, nightclubs, and midnight snacks at Gio's place became a part of their routine. With time, Enrico began to lose control of his eating habits and regained all the weight he had lost.

Gio's desire for Enrico to come out intensified, but Enrico's fear held him back, leading to frustration and further indulgence. He started eating more to cope with his emotions and the stress of potential discovery of him being gay. Enrico found comfort in food, gorging himself on a variety of treats. He would stress eat throughout the day, indulging during staff dinners, enjoying bites and snacks with guests and Gio, and even continuing to eat after his shifts ended. The weight began to explode onto his frame, resulting in a massive belly.

Gio made the difficult decision to break up with Enrico, longing for someone who could be open about their love. Heartbroken, Enrico spiraled into a cycle of self-destructive behavior. For weeks, he stayed in bed, eating buckets of ice cream, chocolate, and cake. His weight skyrocketed, and his excessive eating began to take a toll on his body, making it difficult for him to work.

After hitting rock bottom, Enrico made an important decision - to come out and openly declare his love for Gio. Determined to make their relationship work, Gio decided to give Enrico another chance. They entered into a proper, loving relationship. Five years later, Enrico and Gio continued to enjoy life together. They embarked on amazing trips and indulged in thrilling nights out, all while sharing an intimate and passionate connection. Gio took special care to ensure Enrico was satisfied and fulfilled in every aspect of their relationship, including his physical desires. Enrico grew even larger, his presence on Marbella's beaches causing gossip and intrigue among onlookers. However, Enrico didn't care about public opinions. He relished in his success, happiness, and his hot, loving boyfriend by his side. No one and nothing could stop them from thriving, and Enrico only grew fatter, embracing his new sense of self.

Time passed and Enrico's love for food and indulgence only grew stronger. He found comfort in his expanding waistline, reveling in the way his shirts strained against his bulging belly. He no longer had any desire to go to the gym or maintain his once-fit physique.

Gio, who had a deep admiration for Enrico's newfound size, embraced his partner's love for food. He would cook extravagant meals for Enrico, ensuring that every craving was satisfied. The couple would spend lazy afternoons in bed, surrounded by empty bags of chips and trays of pastries, indulging in their mutual love for gluttony.

Enrico's restaurant continued to thrive, not only due to the delicious cuisine but also because of his newfound reputation as the "largest chef in Marbella." People would flock to the restaurant just to catch a glimpse of Enrico's massive form, marveling at the way he would waddle from table to table, his round belly preceding him.

Despite the occasional judgment and whispers from others, Enrico and Gio were content. They had found love and acceptance within each other's arms, as well as a shared passion for food and pleasure. Enrico had no intentions of slowing down or losing weight; he had found his true happiness in being a larger-than-life figure, both literally and figuratively.

Together, Gio and Enrico continued to explore the world, enjoying lavish vacations and luxurious meals. Enrico's appetite knew no bounds, and he indul in everyged culinary delight that came his way. He wore his size with pride, not caring about societal standards or the opinions of others.

As the years went by, Enrico's girth expanded further, his belly reaching colossal proportions. He had become a symbol of indulgence and excess, a living testament to the fact that happiness could be found in embracing one's desires, no matter how unconventional they may seem.

Enrico knew he would forever be the handsome Spanish chef with an insatiable appetite. He had found his true self, his true love, and his true happiness. And as he continued to grow, both in his relationship with Gio and physically, he knew that nothing could dim fire the that burned within him.

And so, the story of Enrico, the very handsome Spanish chef, continued unabated. He lived a life of pleasure, satisfaction, and gluttony, unapologetically embracing his larger-than-life existence. For Enrico, there was no such thing as too much, and he relished in the knowledge that he had found his own version of perfection in his ever-expanding figure.

[delespresso]

DESERVING ━━ Antonio Dawson x fem!reader

author's note; this one has been in my drafts for a while and honestly i have mixed feelings about it. but oh well, i might as well just put it out lol enjoy <3

summary; antonio had only ever been casual with her, but called it quits a while ago. only to come back after a rough case, finally realising it wasn't so casual after all

━━ ☄. *. ⋆

Molly's wasn't as crowded that night. She sat at the bar, nursing a drink in her hand as she rested her head in her palm with her elbow on the bartop. After a long day of back-to-back surgeries at Med, all she needed was a drink to wind down.

For the past couple of months, that drink was with some company. Tonight, it went back to the usual routine.

She wasn't sure where any of it went wrong. She hardly even realized there was anything wrong, really. Maybe it just wasn't right.

She took a large swig of her drink at the thought. The only thing that kept her mind off him had been her patients. Now that she didn't have that, she zeroed back into him without wanting to.

He'd consumed her entirely in the short months they were together. She should've known better. Getting involved with a man recently divorced – what was she thinking?

It felt so good to just be wrapped up in someone after long, awful shifts. And it was a win-win situation. She wasn't the only one benefiting from it.

Refusing to sit at the bar any longer, she shot her drink down in one go and left some cash on the bar. Usually she'd be chatting with Hermann before she left. Not tonight.

She didn't want to drive after that. Maybe she'd only had about two glasses, but she didn't want to take any chances. So she walked. She'd take her car in the morning.

Her apartment was just down the block anyway. It hardly took her more than five minutes to get back there.

Fiddling through the keys in her hands, she turned down the hallway towards her door. Stopping short when she looked up, very nearly dropping her keys.

“Antonio?”

Her voice came out uncertain.

He turned instantly. His fist dropped, he was just about to knock on her door.

For a moment the man just stood there and looked at her. He put his hands back into the pockets of his coat, rocking on his heels slightly as he cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he greeted.

Hearing his voice again seemed to sober her up suddenly – if she was even that tipsy in the first place. The last time they'd spoken to each other was three weeks ago. The time he hit the brakes on what they had.

“Hi,” she nodded.

Antonio hesitated. He dropped his gaze for a second, before shrugging lightly.

“Look, I uh–”

He met her gaze. She hadn't moved an inch. They were facing each other in the hallway of the apartment.

“I just wanted to check on you,” he admitted gently. “It's been a… rough day.”

She nodded slowly. It had been a rough day, for sure.

Bomb threats all over important locations in the city. Police stations, schools, hospitals – Chicago Med was the very last. They may have mostly been a hoax, but Intelligence didn't take it lightly.

Antonio's team was all over it. The second one of those bombs was real, dropped off at the park just within half a mile radius from Chicago Med – they went head first to find the perp. He ran with his team to investigate it all, while she was busy rushing the victims through surgery.

“It was,” she agreed. “It was rough.”

The keys tapped along her palm lightly as she looked at him. Neither of them seemed to be able to tear their gazes away.

“And how are you?” she then asked softly.

Antonio only stared at her. He looked tired. Like he always did after long cases like this one. These bomb hoaxes had been going on for weeks. It was only today that something truly happened.

And while they haven't found the perp, he took a small step back and let his team play their part as well.

“I've been better,” he replied.

She let out a slow breath. Holding the key in one hand, she gestured to her door lightly.

“Wanna come in?” she offered.

She wasn't sure why she did that. If it was even a good idea after everything.

After all, it was him who said they should stop. That it wasn't the right time for either of them. That they should probably work out their own careers first.

Antonio took a beat. His lips parted to speak as he looked at her, then he glanced at her door.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

She only stepped past him in response, unlocking her door and stepping in. Holding the door open to the side, she gestured for him to enter.

The place was just like he remembered. Although, he doubted much would change in merely three weeks. They ended up standing on two different sides of her kitchen counter, a bottle of beer in each of their hands.

Antonio glanced around the place, his fingers lightly tapping on his beer bottle.

“You finally got the heater to work,” he commented.

She'd been having an issue with her heater forever, it felt like. But now as he stood there, he realized it was warmer here despite the cold outside.

She hummed, nodding as she took a sip of her beer.

“I got a new one,” she replied. “Nothing lasts forever, right?”

Their eyes met. Something about what she said made them both pause and think. She didn't mean to imply anything, but she noticed what she did a second too late. Her eyes dropped and she took another sip of her beer, no longer knowing what to do with herself.

Antonio was just as bad. But he did know how he felt, at least.

“We were good together,” he spoke softly, breaking the sudden silence.

She paused. His words were like a wound in salt.

He knew he shouldn't. He shouldn't be pushing after he was the one that had broken her. But he couldn't stop himself. Suddenly he was around the counter, beer bottle abandoned as his hand reached up to cup her cheek.

When she looked up at him it was with those same doe eyes he fell for. The ones that made his blood rush and heart pumping. The ones that felt like a breath of fresh air after being cooped up for so long.

“I messed up. And instead of fixing it, I made it worse,” he told her. “And I'm sorry. I don't say it as often as I should, but I'm telling you and I mean it. I'm sorry.”

The words hung heavy in the air for a moment as she simply stared up at him with her soft, tender eyes. There was a clear hurt still in them and it made his heart clench.

“I don't deserve you. I really don't. But God if you let me, I'm willing to put in the work. To be the man deserving of you. I just… I just need your word. And your time of day.”

When he continued, she didn't even notice the way her eyes watered. This was the most vulnerable this man had ever been with her. Her heart was thundering as she realised she never got over him. And she knows she never will.

She didn't say a word. She didn't give him an answer, not verbally. Instead, her hands reached up for his jacket to tug him down gently so their lips could meet.

And when she kissed him it was with everything she had. It wasn't lustful or hungry. It was pure love and desire. A yearning that never once faded.

When he kissed her back, she knew then. It was undeniable — she was his. And he was undoubtedly hers.

liked this tale? be a member and buy me some coffee!

[bloodycyrano]

TEAM TADPOLE AT THE TAVERN. LETS GO.

Karlach: Currently drinking a very buff, burly dwarven man under the table. There's a betting pool going on who will win, and Astarion's already rigged it in his favor- nevermind the fact that Karlach could drink an elephant under the table anyways.- Had to help carry Gale and Shadowheart home after they had drank too much.

Wyll: Enjoying the music, enjoying a bit of wine. He has also broken up and prevented about 4 bar fights so far.

Shadowheart: Embracing her inner wine aunt. Maybe she doesn't socialize a whole lot, but she does enjoy some conversation with her closer comrades. She does get a bit more sociable when intoxicated, however, and talks *so much* shit about people in elvish.

Astarion: Has caught the eye of several other people at the bar. He has a naturally flirtatious energy about him- (It's called trauma) -And whether it's people somewhat recognizing him from him luring victims in the past, or genuine attraction, Astarion is a little uncomfortable with some of the unwanted attention. And now that he's free, he isn't afraid to voice it, either. He's also pickpocketed several of the bar patrons so far.

Durge: On edge, and extremely irritated. They've reluctantly grown attached to all of their companions, but Astarion especially (I can't help it, I romance Astarion in every playthrough). Being a child of Bhaal, denounced or not, violence is quite literally in their blood, and they are 100% ready to deck the shit out of someone should they need to- As an avid enjoyer of divorced dad rock, I feel like the vibes are very "Next contestant" by nickelback.

Gale: Started with talis card readings for random bar patrons, and is now very drunk, and spewing weird facts that literally nobody else asked about - Such is the curse of sad Autistic wizards. This is, however, one of the very few instances in which Durge enjoys conversation with Gale. Info dumping about special interests can be more fun when part of a drinking game.

Lae'zel: Mostly keeping to herself. She can handle a lot of alcohol, but she doesn't feel the need to drink excessively. She's not exactly having fun, but she is content. She tried to get in a bar fight at one point, but much to her dismay, Wyll put it to a screeching halt.

Honorable mention, Withers: Is the parent everyone calls when they're too drunk to get home correctly.

Outcome overall: It was a fun outing until Durge started a drunken barroom brawl, and everyone had to get involved. They are now banned from this tavern, and owe some money to cover the damages- Except for Wyll. Wyll made friends with the Barkeep, and got invited to their family gathering next Tuesday.

[manicpixiemeatboy]

Scott summers being intensely hated by a large chunk of the X-men fandom is so wild to me but defending him is even wilder cause it's like. Yes of course he made mistakes yes of course he is frustrating sometimes but also like. Yeah, sorry the orphaned child solider with undiagnosed autism ( among other things ) on divorce number 4 doesn't communicate perfectly. You see why yes he could have navigated the "dead fiancé came back to life right after he moved on and was married to a new girl who turned out to be a clone of his dead fiancé who wasn't dead who then turned into a demon sorceress and also somehow involved is the man who biologically experimented on him in his orphanage as a child unconsented" situation better. He could have. But have you considered. Have you considered the fucking insanity of what you just recited. Have you considered that maybe . Maybe perfectly navigating that situation among the related that came after it was. Hard. I'm sorry hes mean you see they hit him with rocks as a kid and his dad left to become space famous and his adoptive dad/leader could read minds at all times and his kid like- essentially for his ability to be with him died in his arms. He's a little stressed. Yes.

It's actually so wild because people never actually slow down to examine the nuances of events and just expect a character to magically know the right thing to do, even in absolutely bizarre situations that a real human being will never have to navigate. Like, yes, perhaps with 20/20 hindsight and no baggage beforehand, he could have handled the "just got unfused from the ancient mutant villain Apocalypse and found after wandering around the planet with no solid idea who he was for months and has very clear trauma in the aftermath but his wife brushes him off (ooc) and so goes to Emma for therapy but she takes advantage of his mental instability and coerces him into a psychic affair after he told her no repeatedly" situation but no real human person has ever experienced this and thus there's no defined "right" way to navigate that clusterfuck. It's, ironically, a very human trait to mess up in a situation like that.

Cyclops is a deceptively deep character in the sense that SO MUCH has happened to him, but you'll find that no one ever writes the trauma from his previous life-altering event rolling over onto the next (unless it's specifically Dark Phoenix related) for a consistent story. Nor do people include the sheer amount of trauma compacted into this man in their judgment of his character/morality.

TL;DR: if people slowed down and summarised events to their core, they'd stop jumping down Cyclops' throat so much. Not saying he's perfect, but he's doing his best given the tools he's got.

[we-do-bones-bracket]

Round 5 Match 1

Propaganda:

Brook

He's bone for this poll!! Brook is a skeleton man who constantly makes SKULL JOKES!

He is a skeleton. He ate the revive revive fruit, and got revived after he died, but it took so long for his soul to find his body only bones were left. He is also a famous rockstar know as Soul King

He's my favorite Straw Hat Pirate. He's a 90-year-old musician pirate who died 52 years ago, revived, and spent the next 45 years floating aimlessly all alone as a skeleton surrounded by the corpses of his former crew on a broken ship with no rudder. Then he got his shadow stolen and was set adrift again. Then 2 years ago he met Luffy and and became a Straw Hat for, like, a week before they got separated. Then Brook got captured and imprisoned, then became a famous rock star and rejoined the Straw Hats 2 years later. His life sucks but he always perseveres for the sake of his friends and promises made to them. 50 years alone has made him a bit crazy, but he copes by making constant skeleton jokes and playing music. He's a master of fencing and has bardic superpowers to influence people with music, as well as channel the chill of the underworld through his sword to freeze things.

He's literally bones animated by his Soul powers. He loves to make bone joke, has a funny laugh and plays multiple instruments- he even became famous for it in the timeskip and used to belong to a crew of musician pirates before he died and came back as an undead skeleton.

1.) A literal walking, talking skeleton 2.) Makes a bunch of jokes about being a skeleton/not having a specific body part 3.) Banger musician. May not be technically relevant, but I needed you to know.

Leonard "Bones" McCoy

His name is bones and he is a doctor

ALL HE HAS LEFT FROM HIS DIVORCE ARE HIS BONES. The man lost his house, job and daughter. He's a doctor in a space ship and he fucking hates space

his name is LITERALLY bones. he's an old sawbones. his wife took the planet in the divorce - all he's got left are his bones. life regularly bones him.

he has the energy of an old man yelling on his porch and I love him dearly. he cares about people's bones as well as the rest of him. we never get an explanation in the original series for his nickname but I choose to believe there's a very entertaining story behind it involving kirk trying (and failing) to perform hamlet

[sunshine-zenith]

You opened up a can of worms with that post detailing Peri's apparent horrible taste in men and now I'm gonna subject you to my ramblings about it.

Like with peridale I see it as completely one-sided from Dale's end and he knows that Peri hates his guts but it doesn't matter to him.

With perirep it's more of an on-and-off thing (situationship?). And when things truly did end for good, Irep wouldn't really be over it and tries to get his attention.

The point I'm making is that I then thought about Irep x Dale and how that would just be a really terrible rebound. I think I saw one post about Irep being Dale's crooked lawyer to contrast with Peri being Dev's babysitter and how they interacted in the Battle of the Big Wand that inspired this.

But poor Dev man, everyone wants to get with his godparent.

Yesssss, I love all this — Dale and Irep rebounding with each other screams disaster, and a human AU where Irep is the corrupt lawyer totally works

Between baby Peri spending months trying to befriend the guy who was actively trying to kill him in the original show and Cosmo specifically wording Peri quitting on Dev as “he said you two were on a break, he was waiting for you to call!” I 100% see Peri as the type of person who, upon seeing a red flag, goes “I can change him”

In all scenarios involving him and Dale, I imagine it starts with Peri trying to get custody of Dev while not breaking any human or fairy laws — he just needs to be Dale’s spouse long enough to legally adopt Dev, becoming his legal parent and not just a godparent or stepparent. Dale almost certainly would be as bad a significant other as he is a parent lol, but he’d still be blindsided by a breakup/divorce. At some point, Peri realizes that underneath Dale’s layers of negligence, greed, and corruption, there’s more layers of trauma and daddy issues, and he can’t help but get invested

It isn’t worth it, but at least he gets Dev and (if he plays his cards right) some hefty alimony out of it

As for Irep… calling them a situation ship is perfect tbh. There’s so much history there, so much genuine positive and negative feelings on both sides. I deffo headcanon that they at least dated in the past (again, Cosmo’s wording about Peri waiting for a phone call felt very specific — possibly unintentional projecting, like that’s how Peri and Irep’s last attempt at dating ended). If you think about it, there were probably times where Irep was the most consisted person in Peri’s life (he ended up low/no contact with his parent after they retired and he basically lost his big brother. I can’t see Irep necessarily being his rock throughout this, but he was probably at least a steady figure).

I really love all the fanart of Peri and Irep co-godparenting Dev and I lowkey hope that if we do get a season 2, we get at least one episode with them doing that — it’s both incredibly funny and incredibly wholesome to think about

That said, I agree lmao, if they’re officially done done, Irep would be significantly less willing to accept it that Peri. Shoot, I’m pretty sure that’s a little bit the point they’re at in the episode Irep is reintroduced in — Peri barely gives Irep the time of day and acts smug when he brings Jorgen onto the scene, and attitude that probably comes from years of having your emotional investment in someone tossed back in your face

As for your last point, yes yes yes I am rotating Dev’s face when he realizes his godparent has such trash taste around in my head. He absolutely openly judges Peri and is constantly mortified. If you’ll tolerate me being wholesome for a moment, though… we see that between Dev stealing Hazel’s hat to protect her and him going back to save her from Vicky that Dev is actually very protective of the people he loves (a character trait I do plan on taking advantage of in my fanfics). I love the idea of him getting to the point of being protective of Peri. He’d see the type of people Peri dates and decides to sabotage those dates, possibly with Hazel’s reluctant help. It drives Peri up a wall, but let’s be real, it’s almost always justified lmao

(Cupid, whose known Peri since he was a baby and was likely an uncle figure to him, probably sees his pseudo-nephew as a disaster, but at least it keeps him busy)

[starsandhughes]

The View Between Villages

summary: trevor finds you in the middle of a break down, and you finally open up to him.

pairing: trevor zegras x reader

WARNINGS: PAST SELF HARM MENTIONED, SCARS, CRYING, DIVORCE, SCREAMING, BAD PARENTAL RELATIONSHIPS (PARTICULARLY FATHERS), POLICE INVOLVEMENT, WEAPONS MENTIONED, RUNNING AWAY, PET DEATH MENTIONED, PSYCH WARD MENTIONED, (please tell me if i missed any i went really heavy with this one to *cope*)

ps. i wrote this and didn’t edit or reread this whole thing might be a typo and i wouldn’t know

word count: ~2.4K

MASTERLIST

Trevor had yet to see you break.

He’d seen you cry, sure. He’s seen you frustrated, maybe a little angry, he’s seen you cry over a sad movie or just on a really bad day.

But your precious, happy, more radiant than the sun boyfriend had yet to see you break. And it was… probably as traumatizing for him as it was for you to see you a sobbing mess on the bathroom floor when he came home early from a roadie.

You didn’t hear him come running into the bathroom when he finally figured out where you were, so you certainly didn’t hear him enter through the front door.

It was stupid, really. At least, you felt it was. A song triggered everything you’d been trying to forget to come flowing back and throttle your emotions head on. A song! You hadn’t cried in so long, and you know crying is good for you, so you kept replaying the song over and over for an hour now, and the subtle tears slowly lit the flames of the matches leading up to a giant mental break down. So, to say Trevor wasn’t expecting to find you as an indescribable mess is an understatement.

“Y/N?!” he shouted. He was instantly on his knees knelt next to your scrunched up form.

Your knees were tucked under you, and your upper body was bent forward so your face was practically touching the ground. The only thing keeping your face from falling to the cold tile were your elbows propping you up, while your hands were digging into your hair as you slowly rocked.

The View Between Villages had to be on its thirty-something-eth run by now. Trevor stood up to turn off your speaker, but you gripped at his forearm to stop him.

“No! No, Trevor, I’m not-“

Your voice was cut off by your own gasps of breath. You weren’t hyperventilating, but you weren’t exactly breathing steadily either. Trevor looked down at you with the most shocked and pained look on his face you’d ever seen. His mouth trickled open as his lips wobbled at this sight of you. Your face had to blood shot red at this point, with tears coating the lower half.

“Not what, y/n?” Trevor asked, voice filled with urgency and concern.

“I have to get it out, Z, I’m not done crying!”

The lyrics went on.

The cars in reverse, I’m gripping the wheel. I’m back between villages, and everything’s still.

Images that weren’t real to you, only visualizations of memories told to you, flooded your vision again at the last line of the song. You were sitting up now with your knees pulled tight to your chest. Your hand flew to your mouth as more wracked sobs came out. Trevor wasted no time in getting up to turn off the speaker this time, despite your attempts of protests.

Trevor flew behind you and pulled you into his lap. He tried to pry your hands away from your hair, but it took great effort from him because he didn’t want to risk you physically pulling your hair out. Luckily, that wasn’t something you ever planned to do, and your hands gave in. His palms held onto the back of your hands and his arms wrapped around your middle, taking yours with. You pulled your knees in tighter and laid your forehead on them against the pressure of Trevor holding you tight to his chest.

“I wasn’t done! I have to get it out! I HAVE TO GET IT OUT!”

Then came the screams. Not shouts, you weren’t yelling. There weren’t even words accompanying the screams. You could’ve been featured on the soundtrack of a horror movie with how intense your screams were.

“Get what out, y/n/n? Tell me! What’s happening?”

Your head flew back against his shoulder, catching him off guard. Your body was extremely tight that you were practically writing in pain in Trevor’s lap.

“Let it out to me, tell me. What’s happening, love? I’ve never seen you like this,” he asked lowly. He was staying steady for you.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed. Your breathing was getting heavier now.

“No, baby, don’t be sorry, it’s alright. I’m just concerned, okay? What happened? Why were you listening to that song over and over?”

“It brought things back,” you shuddered out.

“Brought what back, baby?” He was rubbing your arms up and down with a lot of pressure to try and help relax your muscles, and you could feel him exaggerating his breathing so that you could feel it from behind.

“Everything,” you whispered. “Everything bad that I’ve been running from. The last part of the song is a little too accurate for me, and if opened a floodgate.”

Trevor stayed quiet for a minute. He just rubbed your arms up and down until he felt you finally start to ease up a little before moving up to your shoulders.

“Just breathe with me for a second, okay?”

He started to take even more exaggerated steady breaths with you. In for four, hold for four, and then out for four.

You looked up to find a very concerned looking Jamie, who apparently came running over when you screamed. Trevor told him that he had this, and Jamie hesitantly stepped away. You completely forgot about him if you were being honest.

“I need you to talk to me,” Trevor breathed out. “Do you wanna go to the couch?”

“I don’t wanna move,” you mumbled.

“Alright. I’ll move for you.”

Trevor picked you up and carried you out into the living room bridal style. He sat down on the couch and pulled you into his lap again, but this time you were on the side. His arms wrapped around you and you leaned into his chest, resting your cheek on his shoulder and tucking yourself into his neck.

“Alright my love, you said you related to the last part of the song you were playing too much, right?” He continued when you nodded against him. “What was the song called?”

“The View Between Villages.”

Trevor nodded and pulled it up, “Let’s take it lyric by lyric then, and you can tell me what came over you specifically for that line. Is that okay? We can stop when you need, but you need to let me in on some of this. It doesn’t have to weigh all on you.”

“Okay,” you quietly agreed.

“‘Past Alger Brook road, I’m over the bridge. A minute from home, but I feel so far from it.’ Anything there?”

“I ran away,” you said blank.

“You what?”

“From my father. It wasn’t the first time I had to leave home, but it was the first time I did it by choice. But I still go see my best friends there. And every time I take that final exit off the interstate, there’s always a part of me that deflates. I grew up there, most of my friends still live there, but it’s not home anymore. It’s where he lives. It’s where I was… um…”

“You don’t have to tell me what you don’t want to right now. You’re doing so great,” he assured you.

“My parents divorced, which happens, but when my father told us on Christmas, things went a little haywire and police got involved. There’s some details in there that I don’t want to dive into right now, but it was pretty bad. The police took all the weapons in the house and placed them on the table while he packed a bag to go into a hotel for the night. And then the next day, my mom took us to live with her since they already lived in separate states.

“I moved back after a few months when he had calmed down because I missed my friends. Things weren’t great, I wasn’t medicated yet, but I had my friends. I lasted a year, and then he threatened to kick me out and throw away all my stuff if I went to see my mom for the Fourth of July. He gave me an ultimatum. So I packed up my stuff and was planning on just leaving, but he found out.

“I thought he was gonna come after me. I called my mom crying, and she called him to get him to calm down. He calmed down, went to bed, and I ran away at 2am and drove through the night to my mom’s house. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since.”

Trevor let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His arms around you tightened and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“That’s… that’s um… intense,” was what he got out. “I mean I know you don’t talk to your dad anymore but that’s…”

“Yeah.”

“Is that all?”

“Not even close.”

Trevor nodded and continued on reading the lyrics, “‘The death of my dog, the stretch of my skin. It’s all washing over me, I’m angry again.’ Anything there?”

‘The death of my dog’ line was self explanatory, but Trevor already knew that. Sure, you cried when it happened, but not much anymore.

“‘The stretch of my skin’ lyric. It um…”

You got a bit choked up at the idea of telling Trevor this next part. Everything intimate you’ve done has been more or less in the dark with minimal light to still see each other’s features. He hadn’t noticed yet.

“Tell me no,” he said shakily.

“I can’t,” you teared up. “I uh… started in high school. On my wrists. Those you can’t really tell because of the way wrists bend— but my upper thighs? I guess I went deeper than I thought because—“

Trevor held you tighter against his chest when you started to cry harder again. His hand cradled your head and held it against his shoulder as he gently rocked you, “Can I see them?”

“Are you sure?”

Trevor hesitated, “I mean, I’m kind if glad you told me about them first before I saw, because I honestly don’t know which one would be worse. And if I don’t see them now, it’s all I’d be looking for the next time we’re in the bedroom.”

“You don’t have to see them this sec-“

“Y/N, please,” he cut you off.

You took a pause from the trauma dumping to show him the scars. You refused to look at him as he did so. His fingers ever so lightly brushed over some of the more prominent ones and you hitched a breath.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t be,” you assured. “I’m clean. For over two years now. You help a lot, Trev. More than you know.”

He nodded and cupped your cheek with his hand, “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Do you wanna stop? I’ve dropped a lot on you in the last ten minutes.”

He urged you to go on, so you continued to the next lyric.

“‘The things that I lost here, the people I knew. They got me surrounded for a mile two.’”

“Everybody’s lost things. Important things. But the things I lost really wrecked me, you know? My innocence. Happiness. I lost a part of myself when I was mentally at my worst. I was admitted to a psych ward, and I overheard my father telling his girlfriend that he thought I just didn’t want to “be a grownup” and was acting out.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“Get in line,” you tried to joke. It didn’t work. For either of you.

“And then for ‘the people i knew,’ I only have two friends that I’ve had since high school, and then their boyfriends, but even friends I met after high school I managed to fuck up and lose them, too. There’s never even conversations about it, they just leave me. Cut me off. It took me so long to open up to you because all of that leaving made me lose hope in people.

“It never happened before, but today that song played and there was just visions of everything. Some were memories, others were my representation of things my father did told to me by my mom. Individually I can take it all; but all together? I broke. And I’m sorry you had to see it.”

Trevor went back to cupping your face. His thumb skimmed across your under eyes to wipe some fresh tears away. He just looked at you. He looked at you fondly.

“You’re so strong, did you know that?”

“Trev, I was just screaming on the bathroom floor over a song.”

“Yeah, because your brain decided to have a mid day showing over everything bad that’s ever happened to you. But you made it through all of that. You’re here. You’re here with me, and with Jamie, and your mom. You’re here because you’re strong. I think you might be the strongest person I know.”

You didn’t say anything back. Not because you weren’t grateful that he said that, because you knew he truly meant it. You just didn’t know what to say. You didn’t even cover everything that has happened to you, but the things you did share was already too much for you, and definitely for him. The rest would come eventually.

“I don’t wanna talk anymore,” you said quietly.

“That’s okay,” Trevor nodded. “How about I call Jimmy down here so he knows you’re okay and we can watch a movie? Does that sound good, love?”

He smiled when you agreed, and seeing the crinkles next to his eyes brought a small smile onto your lips as well. Jamie didn’t make a big deal out of the events that just transpired, which you were beyond thankful for. He just placed a quick kiss on the top of your head and took his seat on the edge of the couch next to your and Trevor’s spot in the middle.

You were barely paying attention to the movie, it was some action one that you didn’t pay attention to the name to when Trevor put it on, but it had Chris Evans in it, so you weren’t mad. You were resting against Trevor’s chest, listening and feeling his steady heartbeat as you purposely began to breathe in sync with him.

He’s here. He’s here, and so are you. And that counts for everything.