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#someone get TLC on the phone
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Damian: Grayson I have some questions about a song I heard at school today
Dick: I'm scared, but let's hear it
Damian: If a man has no job or money, he's a scrub. Is he a scrub until he has a job? Or until his first paycheck? What if he's too young or too busy with his studies to join the workforce? If a man is a scrub when he doesn't have his own car, does he become a scrub everytime he takes his car in to get the oil changed? Father doesn't drive during the day. Is he a scrub?
Dick:..... I'm not going to lie, I don't know how to answer any of that. But i really want to know the answers. HEY JASON
Jason: Ask Steph. You're not prepared for my dissertation on scrubs. Just ask Steph
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gracieheartspedro · 2 months
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Your Needs, My Needs
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THE PRELUDE
a masterlist of how you can help gaza
pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)
description: you have made it to your new home in taylor, texas. your anxiety of owning your our home and being alone is coming to a head, but you need to be productive. a trip to the local furniture turns into you meeting some locals and your new cowboy neighbor.
word count: 3.7k words
warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, description of small age gap, joel being a sarcastic shithead. sarah is canon, so joel is a dad. distracted driving. talks of consuming food. reader has mental illness, mainly described as anxiety, but could be other illnesses. I make it pretty vague. the reader likes football? lmfao
author's note: this is the prelude to the many parts I have planned for these two. this is sort of just setting up everything. I want a slow burn for these two, so hopefully these first couple parts make you guys sweat with anticipation. I also wanna quickly thank all of you for the love on the preview of this fic. I hope you all enjoy it! let me know what y'all think. YEEHAW!
“Sign here and she’s all yours.”
When you brought the pen to the dotted line, you knew that this was going to be the start of your new life. 
While you were nervous about taking on such a huge project, you were ready to find solace in your alone time and work on yourself along with the beautiful farmhouse. You needed some peace and quiet, anyway. 
She was set on 20 acres of land on the outskirts of a small town called Taylor. The land looked like something out of a movie, it’s rolling hills and sprawling fields. 
The house was about 130 years old and needed a lot of TLC. You found it online after hours of scrolling. It was still liveable, but the older couple who owned it before moved to a retirement community and could not keep up with the maintenance. When the inheritance hit your bank account, you called the local realtor and told them you would be flying out there to check it out. When the car pulled up the long driveway, you knew that it would be yours. 
Texas was a new start for you. And boy, were you ready for it. 
You did not have a lot to move in, just a small UHaul full of boxes of clothes and miscellaneous trinkets. You left your furniture in your shared apartment in New York. You needed to find something that was more your style, anyway. 
You moved everything yourself. You were not sure you were ready to trust anyone to help you move in. You knew no one locally, anyway.
It took about three days to get settled, and by that, you simply put up a shower curtain and finally put sheets on your mattress on the floor. You had also created a laundry list of random things you wanted to get done around the house in the next month. Priority number one was getting the bathrooms working. The toilet downstairs doesn’t stop running and your upstairs one won’t flush at all. 
You decided that today was the day you would go out and buy some furniture for your living room and bedroom. You would also inquire to some locals about a plumber. It would take you days to work up the courage to reach out to someone in the phone book, so here’s to hoping you just run into someone on the street. 
You hop into the sedan that you were renting until you could buy a car. It was nice but it was no match for your long dirt driveway. You already expected to pay extra for all the dings on the exterior. 
The roads that lead into Main Street are long and winding. You loved driving, so when it was nice enough to put the windows down, you did so. 
Since there’s no one on this specific stretch, you decide to switch the CD you had shoved into the disc drive, opting for another mix you had made years ago. The radio never played what you wanted, especially the local stations in Taylor. 
In your distracted scramble for the CD, you don’t take note of the large stallion running next to your car. The CD is wedged between the seat and the main console and your fingers cannot reach the awkward position. 
You’re not speeding. But when a giant horse runs out in front of you, you can not hit the break quickly enough. You stop breathing, bracing for impact. You jerk the wheel slightly, swerving away from the steed.  Before your front end can make an impact, the horse is snatched back towards the divot in the road. 
You are in complete and utter shock over how abruptly it all happened. 
Your eye eventually catches a man on horseback, his cowboy hat shields most of his face, but you are more focused on how built this man looks. His biceps were straining against his button-up shirt as he held the lasso taut against his chest. His legs were locked around the brown stallion he was on, his jeans riddled with mud and dust. He had dark curls that peaked out from under his hat.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” You yell, your car slowly inching forward from its spot in the middle of the road, “Where did that thing even come from?”
The mysterious cowboy just shakes his head and trots away, clicking his tongue to guide the horse back into the field. 
Your heart felt like it may leap out of your chest. A car was chugging down the road ahead of you, so you knew you had to move out of the way. You turn into your lane and slowly start down the road again.
You do not even bother trying to find the CD, again. You would rather sit in complete silence. 
-
When you make it to the small stretch of downtown, your heart rate slows down. You spot a local furniture store that looks a bit dated. It was your best bet plus, you wanted to stand on solid ground and gain your bearings. 
You parallel park rather terribly and hop out of your car. You huff loudly, throwing your purse over your shoulder and slamming the door behind you. 
A hot cowboy saved your life. 
It’s the most Texas thing that’s happened to you since you moved here. 
You head inside the storefront. A smaller white-haired lady sits at the front desk, her head in a gossip magazine. 
“Well, hello there,” You muster in your best cheery voice, trying to act like you did not almost die, “I’m lookin’ for some furniture.”
She chuckles as she places her reading next to the register, “Well, you came to the right place, sweetheart.”
You return the laugh, glancing around the large store. Couches and recliners in rows in the front, wooden bed sets lining the back wall. You were so indecisive, you were not completely sure where to start. 
“I need a bedroom set and a couch or two. I just moved into th-”
“The old Caldwell farmhouse,” She cuts you off, hopping off her stool, “Saw you movin’ in a couple days ago. My boy is your neighbor.”
The joke about small towns is always true, you know that already. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. You could not shit without someone knowing about it. 
You raise your eyebrows, acting like you’re shocked she knows about you already. “Yes, that’s right. Your boy?”
“My oldest son, Joel. He lives across the way from ya,” She starts gesturing towards the couches, “Pop a squat on one and see which one ya like.”
You end up sitting on every couch before landing on a brown leather one with a matching loveseat. The old woman is a great saleswoman on top of being sickly sweet. She told you since you are one of her first customers of the month, she would give you a great discount on a coffee table. You were a sucker for a good deal. 
You knew what bed set you wanted immediately. It was a light-washed wood with tall pillars sticking out of every corner. It came with two matching dressers and one nightstand. It was only you, so you didn’t quite care about another side table anyway. 
When the lady starts tallying up your total, you watch the slow-moving downtown. A couple walking across the street into the small diner. An older gentleman walking his small dog. The rickety old trucks that loudly took up the roads. 
You’re so stuck in your head, you don’t even hear what your total is. All you do is hand over your credit card. She smiles and giggles as she swipes the card. 
“So I’ll have my boy deliver it to you tomorrow. He is busy workin’ today, but I’ll have him get it to you. He’s quite the handyman, always busy doing jobs around town. Will you be home in the morning?”
You would have to have some strange man in your home to set up the heavy wooden furniture. It made the hairs on your arm stand up. You knew you would not be able to haul it all, so you had to take the leap of faith and hope and pray this frail old lady’s son is not a serial killer. Or stalker. Or both. 
You needed your furniture, after all. 
It will be okay, you tell yourself. 
“U-uh, I will,” You swallow, “I don’t work right now, so I’ll be home all day.”
“Oh, goody! I will send him your way in the morning. He may have his brother with him just to get the bed up your stairs, but I promise they are good boys. If they aren’t, you come to me and their mama will deal with them.”
You laugh nervously, “Of course, thank you so much.”
You had woken up late, your anxiety creeping up on you last night. Your brain would not stop racing. You didn’t fall asleep until 2 am. You hop out of bed around 10:30 and wrap yourself in a cardigan. You have been leaving all the windows open at night, but you can tell the seasons are shifting because it gets so cold at night. 
The doorbell rings and it’s like your heart falls out of your chest. You know that after you open this door, you’re welcoming in someone completely new and unexpected and it makes your whole body jitter. You make your way to the front door and take a deep breath before opening it. 
Of course. It’s him. The hot cowboy. 
It made sense. The endless green across from your home had to be part of his property. The road you almost died on yesterday was right beside his land. His house was tucked right across from the end of your driveway, with countless barns spread across a couple of acres.
You were secretly hoping he would be some silly-looking hillbilly, but instead, you find out your delivery man is the ridiculously attractive cowboy from the day before. His hair is tidy and dark without the cowboy hat on. It’s peppered with some white hairs, but it only adds to his appearance. His flannel has the top three buttons undone and his jeans are stained with age. You are finally able to get a good look at his face with no shadows covering his permanent scowl. 
He had to be about 10 years older than you. You were not too far off from wrinkles, but you were still young enough to bear children without being considered geriatric. 
He squints at you when you swing the door open. The sun is hitting his eyes, highlighting the warm rich brown color. 
“Howdy neighbor,” He greets, a small smirk plays on his lips, “’m Joel. Nice to meet you officially.”
You introduce yourself, trying not to stutter as you say your name. He made you nervous. You chalk it up to just being nervous around men in general. But it’s the way his eyes trailed you as you moved just slightly.
You feel the need to clear the air because of the way he’s staring through you. 
“And uh, listen, about yesterday,” You try to apologize, but he cuts you off by raising his hand. 
“Wouldn’t be the first time an outsider got themselves hurt bein’ reckless down the backroads. Just glad you didn’t hit my horse.”
The response has a bit of a bite to it. You back up a step, your body also taken aback by his directness. You are used to confrontational people, but you’re not used to Southern folk being that way. 
“No, next time I’ll aim for the ditch and tell my insurance that there was a silly cowboy in the road that I had to miss.”
You can tell by the sheepish smile on his face that he was not expecting you to be feisty.
“Don’t think they’d give ya’ much money for that,” He says in a hushed but matter-of-fact tone.
You relax your shoulders, trying to collect yourself. “Probably not.” 
He turns back to his truck that has your bed frame in the back of it, disregarding the previous statements. “My brother is comin’ by in a few to help me get this stuff in.”
“Well, let’s not let all the air out of the house right now,” You extend the door wider for him. You are giving this man full access to your home now. You try to suppress your obsessive thoughts and instead decide that you know exactly what you can have him do while you wait. You remember his mom told you he was good with his hands, and since he wants to be snarky to you in the comfort of your own home, you would try to pick his mind about some of your home projects. “Come in, let me ask you something.” 
You begin, gesturing him into the entryway. He accepts the offer, kicking his boots off on the porch. You appreciate his thoughtfulness and for a second, you realize you may be the asshole. 
“Mama told you I was a handyman, didn’t she?”
You giggle, finding it funny that he could read the situation you were about to put him in. “She sure did.”
“She needs to stop tellin’ folks that,” His accent is so thick and syrupy, that it makes your insides tingle, “Got too many people askin’ me to fix their stuff.”
You guide him to the bathroom right off the living room and kitchen, “You know much about plumbing?”
“I’m assumin’ you don’t,” He mutters, “What do you have goin’ on?”
You point to the loudly running toilet, “This thing won’t stop running no matter what I do.”
“Well, what have you tried doin’?”
You both stand in the hallway, you looking up at him with furrowed brows, him looking down at you with anticipation. He was quick-witted, and you started to hate how much you liked it. He gave your sassiness a run for it’s money.
“I’ve flushed it a bunch of times. Cursed at it and kicked it,” He stares at you blankly. It makes your stomach roll, “Jesus, Cowboy, can you give a girl a break?”
He enters the narrow bathroom, approaching the toilet like there may be a bomb in it. He reaches towards the handle and jiggles it violently, which makes you giggle a bit. That’s exactly what you did. 
“So, why here?” He questions, squatting in front of the bowl. He continues to mess with the handle while you process his no-context question.
“What Texas or this bathroom?”
He chuckles, his smile spreading across his beautifully tanned skin. 
“You got tons of jokes, huh?” 
You don’t respond, just shrug your shoulders. He stands up, wiggling the top of the tank off the toilet. You watch his hands lock onto the sides of it, ensuring it will not drop off and shatter on the dated tile. 
“Texas,” He strains, freeing his left hand to mess with the handle. You lean against the door frame. 
You are not even sure why Texas. You just needed to get as far as you could away from New York. You did not want your past to catch up with you, and you did not want to get stuck in a city again. But you could not share all this with a random stranger. He may be in your house, looking at your commode, but you can’t completely trust him yet. 
“I just wanted a change of scenery. I always wanted a farmhouse.”
“Lots of upkeep,” He jabs, doing one more once over of the tank, “‘M thinking you may need a new float or chain. I can get my tools tomorrow and come over to fix it. May need to order a new part, though.”
You push off the wall, arms still crossed over your front. He puts the top back on and finally makes eye contact with you. 
He would come over again? To fix your toilet? 
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, ‘m sure it’s the chain or float.”
“No, I m-mean,” You start to stumble over your words. You swallow, collecting yourself for a moment so you do not look crazy to him. “Are you sure you’re okay coming back over?”
He gives you a thin-lipped smile, “What are neighbors for?”
-
His brother arrives in a rickety old truck at about 15 past 11. He looks a lot like him, but shorter. He has those same eyes though, permanently tired. 
“Nice to meet ya, ma’am. ‘M Tommy.”
You grab his hand to shake it and he lingers a bit longer than you anticipated. Joel stayed on your front porch, putting his boots back on to start unloading the furniture. 
You are thankful the weather was kind today, especially since every evening this week has been stormy. The sun was beating mighty hard on the men as they collaborated on getting your furniture inside.
While they get everything set up, you busy yourself making lunch. You get the bright idea to make them each a sandwich. It’s the least you could do. 
You pile the cold-cut turkey and cheese onto the white bread you had, topping it with some mayo. When you hear their footsteps trailing down the stairs, you race out with the sandwiches on a porcelain plate.
“For your troubles,” You say before standing in their path to the door. Tommy smiles brightly, instantly snatching a sandwich from the plate. 
“Thanks, darlin’,” He takes a big bite, humming in satisfaction. He walks around you, leaving you standing in front of Joel. His eyes are piercing, his lips ajar a bit, but nothing is coming out. 
“Turkey and cheese, I promise.”
He reaches out grabbing the sandwich from you, “No sweet tea to go with it?”
Your heart sinks, instantly becoming self-conscious of your decision to be nice to these hicks. He was so intimidating with his steely expressions and broad shoulders. There was an essence about him that did not speak to his stone-cold exterior. It was more gentle. But you could only see hints of it when he smiled. 
He can tell the wheels in your head are spinning. Before you can speak, takes a bite of the sandwich and shakes his head. 
“‘m kidding, Yankee. Thank you, I ‘preciate it.”
You settle for letting out a long sigh and returning to your kitchen. You spend a couple of minutes, putting back all the ingredients in their proper places. 
You hear Tommy yell for Joel, his voice kind of panicked. You race out the front door and see Tommy balancing your coffee table off the side of the truck. Joel is running to his aid, the dust from your driveway kicking up behind him. You hold your breath watching Joel help him balance the wooden piece of furniture. 
“Can’t have you breakin’ your back before homecoming,” Joel fusses, guiding the legs of the table to the ground, “You know damn well Maria would have me, too.”
“Yeah, what’s a homecoming game without the head coach?”
You perk up, instantly becoming interested in the conversation that you weren’t supposed to be listening in on. The two men lift the table and start heading your way, right on the threshold. 
“You coach football?” You ask Tommy, trying not to show your excitement. You loved football, it reminded you of Sundays with your grandfather. You never got the privilege to go to an actual game, even in high school. 
“Yes, ma’am, for the local high school in Taylor. We are gonna make it to the state championships this year.” 
You glance at Joel when he says it. He rolls his eyes, “Gotta win at least one game to do that, Tommy.”
They place the coffee table right in front of your new leather couch. Tommy grunts, trying not to argue with his brother in front of a strange lady. 
He can’t help himself, though. He instantly snaps back at Joel.
“You know them boys have been practicin’ day in and day out. Why ya gotta be so negative?”
Joel places his hands on his hips, “Cause Sarah told me the guys in her grade are a bunch of dummies. I highly doubt they are ready to kick Georgetown’s asses.”
Tommy starts towards the door, “Just cause Sarah says it, doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“I believe my honor student daughter before I believe my dumbass little brother.”
You are not shocked Joel has a daughter. You are just shocked that she’s in high school. He looked too young to have a teen, but then again, he did have some grays sprouting. You cross your arms over your chest, watching Joel scoot the table across your hardwoods. 
You’re staring at his hands, trying to conjure up a wedding ring on his left finger. But there’s nothing. Maybe he did not wear it when he was working. Maybe he just forgot to put it on this morning. Maybe his passive aggressiveness towards you was simply to ensure there was distance between you and him, giving you subtle hints that he was taken. 
He finally glances up at you, stopping in his tracks when he notes your gaze. 
“Somethin’ wrong?”
You have no clue what to say because you are so trapped in your head about him. He’s a stranger, god damn it.
“N-no, everything is okay.”
“Don’t look it.”
“I just was not expecting the coffee table to look so dark against the hardwood,” you lie, pulling whatever you could think of out of your hat, “Doesn’t it look dark?”
Joel looks between the floor and the table, shifting in his stance, “Don’t know bout that.” 
“O-oh okay.”
“Alright, well we got ya all set up now,” He starts to head towards the entryway. You trail behind him like a lost puppy, “I’ll be by sometime tomorrow with that part for the toilet. I’m expectin’ another sandwich for that one.”
You grab your front door as you wave to Tommy as he heads for his truck. He smiles and gives you a head nod. Joel turns back to you, his ears perked up for a sarcastic jab from you.
  You think back to something he said to you earlier. You crack a smile, “What are neighbors for?”
PART 1 COMING SOON!
taglist (ppl who asked to be tagged): @joeldjarin @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @mysaviorjoelmiller @brittmb115 @missladym1981 @jasminedragoon
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arhvste · 2 years
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“i was wondering if i could have your instagram?”
your heart hammered against your chest as the anticipation weighed down on your shoulders as you stood in front of the confused boy in front of you.
“ah… i’ll have to get back to you on that.” iwaizumi replied quietly as your stomach dropped.
“oh… okay then thanks anyway!” you forced a friendly tone out to mask the utter humiliation and upset that had washed over your mood entirely upon the few words the dark haired boy offered.
the rest of the class was a blur to you. you spent majority of the time staring blankly ahead of you to face the backs of forgettable classmates heads. the only classmate that mattered to you in this particular class had rejected you just before the teacher walked in so from this moment on you had no motivation to pay attention or look forward this class.
the end bell rang and you mindlessly threw your belongings into your bag before dragging yourself through the halls to your locker to collect the rest of your belongings and head home. you didn’t even bother to wait for your friends, no. they could wait until you were in the comfort of your own home to hear you scream over the phone how embarrassed you were as a result of the rejection over something as casual as asking to be instagram buddies.
‘what sort of loser gets rejected for that?’ you almost had to laugh it was so stupid. ‘whatever.’ you thought as your feet carried you to the front gates of the school. you’d have to apologise to your friends in advance before blowing up the groupchat with your over dramatic tendencies but a little tlc from your friends was needed at this vital milestone of your life; your first ever rejection.
upon the endless string of thoughts running through your mind as you walked, you failed to pick up on the voice that had been calling after you repeatedly from behind you. you tended up at the feeling of someone gently tugging on your sleeve out of nowhere but that surprise was nothing compared to the surprised you felt upon seeing the culprits gaze.
“iwaizumi?” you asked as your classmate caught his breath. “you on a mission or something?” he huffed a little as you frowned. “yes. a mission to get home, so see ya!” you replied quickly as your pace in walk picked up again.
before you could march off, a hand tugging on the strap of your bag stopped you before you could flee the scene which happened to include the last face on earth you wanted to see right now. “before you run off again,” he started before pulling his phone out his pocket. “my instagram. you said you wanted it?”
you looked at the device in his hands with confusion. zero followers, zero posts, zero following and a cute yet handsome photo of iwaizumi in place of the profile picture icon. “i didn’t have one earlier when you asked, so i made one during that class so you could add me.” he rubbed the back of his neck and looked away from you as you fought the urge to pounce on him and bite him.
‘he’s so fucking cute.’
you tapped your own handle into his phone and followed yourself before grabbing your own phone to immediately follow him back. a weird sense of pride came over you seeing his follower and following go up by one and that one being you.
“you didn’t have to do that.” you insisted as you handed his phone back to him. “nah, i should’ve made one ages ago but i just never got around to it.” he admitted, the heat on his face finally calming down. “but now you can message me if you ever need anything… or if you just wanted to you know, talk?“ he muttered as the urge to bite the shit out of this man piqued once more.
“i’ll definitely message you if i need anything or if i want to talk but you can do the same too!” you hummed as you slipped your phone back into your pocket.
“i’ll keep that in mind.” he smiled before turning around to walk away. “please do.” you shot back before turning to make your own way home. offering a quick exchange in waves you marched home ready to text your groupchat about what had just happened until you felt your phone vibrate.
‘@iwa.hajime has sent you a message: see you tomorrow :)’
on second thought. maybe your group chat could wait.
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random-thot-generator · 9 months
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Try a Little Tenderness
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Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem Reader
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Summary: Simon has just returned home in the middle of the night from a mission in less than stellar condition. Understanding that he was in desperate need of some TLC, you put aside the ‘frenemy’ dynamic the two of you usually operate within to take care of him, instead. Your gentle ministrations elicit a reaction that neither of you expect, but perhaps have been yearning for all along.
Warnings: Language, explicit sexual content, touching of naughty bits - Simon gets a helping hand in the bath, fluff and feelings, no Y/N
(A/N: This is a thot connected to an idea I had for a series. Still not sure about the series, but what ev. 
This is just me exploring the intimate relationship between the characters. It is minor smut compared to what I usually write, meant to be a vulnerable moment for Simon, and for reader as well. I dunno, I feel like a certain amount of trust needs to be established before Simon allows himself to be with someone in an intimate way. 
For a little backstory, Reader is Simon’s housekeeper/roommate/frenemy. It’s been platonic up to this point, but there have been some charged moments leading up to this. This is the turning point in the relationship, the first time Simon allows himself to really indulge in reader’s attention and care. Reader and Simon have been living together for about a year by this point but have known each other for almost two. Simon’s pet name for reader is ‘Doll’; reader’s pet name for Simon is ‘Grumpy’.)
Word Count: 2777
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It was almost midnight by the time Simon shuffled through his front door. He was dead on his feet, still wearing the same clothes he put on three days ago, covered in filth and stinking to high hell. He would normally have stayed on base, cleaned up, ate and retired to his quarters to rest, but for some reason, he’d texted you mid-flight to tell you he was on his way back. He hadn’t been expecting an immediate answer, but he got one.
[DOLL]: What’s ur ETA? I’ll wait up 4 u. Have u eaten? 
Simon had hovered over his phone, glancing about the plane, not sure how to respond. He supposed he didn’t have to stay on base. He’d just never had a reason to return home before. He knew he should tell you not to wait up, to go to bed, that he would see you tomorrow, but instead he found himself tapping out a different message.
[GRUMPY]: Landing in twenty. Be home approx 2hrs.
[DOLL]: I’ll be waiting. C u soon.
He re-read the message several times. ‘I’ll be waiting.’ This was new for him, having someone to go home to, having someone there expecting him, waiting up to see him. Sure, he had come home to you before, but not like this. This was... premeditated.
As he closed the door behind him and locked it, he heard your feet padding through the sitting room and turned. He couldn’t help the smile that spread under the balaclava when he saw you. You were dressed in one of his old T-shirts, a pair of flannel sleep shorts peeking out beneath the hem, and a pair of those ugly fuzzy socks on your feet. Your hair was loose and hanging down your back, not quite dry yet from an earlier shower, and your face was free of makeup. He liked seeing you like this better than any other way.
You were looking at him in that direct way that always got to him, assessing him, checking him over. He waited for one of your customary snarky greetings, but instead your brows furrowed.
“You look exhausted, Si. C’mere. Sit down,” you instructed, pointing at the entryway bench. Simon didn’t even hesitate, just did as he was told. He watched you kneel before him and start unlacing his boots.
“Ya don’t got t’do that, Doll. I can―“
“Si, hush,” you murmured, your voice soft and gentle. “I got this, okay? You’re home. Relax.”
He didn’t have it in him to argue, so let you have your way. You removed his boots and stuck them under the bench by his trainers, then stood and held your hand out. “C’mon. You need a bath.”
He let you lead him up the stairs, but instead of taking him to his ensuite bathroom, you led him down the hallway to the bathroom that you used. You motioned for him to sit down on the toilet while you stoppered the tub and turned on the taps. He watched with curiosity as you opened the cabinet below the sink, taking out a glass jar filled with some sort of pinkish granules, sprinkling a generous portion of it into the filling tub.
“Wha’s that?”
“Epsom salts with lavender and eucalyptus. It’ll help ease your sore muscles,” you told him, replacing the jar in the cabinet. You turned to look him over again. “Let’s get you out of those dirty clothes. I’ll get you some clean ones once you’re in the bath. C’mon. Arms up.”
Simon thought about objecting. He was a grown man, he could undress himself, but as soon as he felt your hands on him, all complaints went right out the window. He held his arms out so you could pull the tail of his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans, shivering when he felt your fingers graze his lats as you peeled it up and over his head.
“I smell like shite,” he grumbled, embarrassed for you to be this close to him when he was in such a disgusting state.
You huffed, the sound low and amused. “You smell like a soldier who just got back from deployment. Believe me, I’ve smelled worse.” You motioned for him to stand again. Once he regained his feet, your hands went to his waist, undoing the belt and pulling it free, then you undid the button and fly of his jeans. You pushed them down until they bunched around his knees, then instructed him to lean on you while you tugged them off his legs.
And he just... let you. He had not had anyone care for him like this since his last stint in the medical bay, and that had been a male nurse with hands rougher than his own. He’d not had a woman care for him like this since he was a small boy, when his mother would get him ready for his bath. He felt his chest constrict, almost told you to stop, but your hand on the back of his calf silenced him.
“Foot up,” you said, letting him lean on you again as you stripped off first one sock and then the other. Once you straightened, you placed a hand at the small of his back and gave him a gentle push towards the tub. “I’ll go get you some clean clothes while you get in,” you said, then stooped to gather up his dirty things. “Be back in a minute.”
You left him staring after you, disappearing down the hallway. He turned back to the tub, eyeing the hot water lapping at the sides. Aromatic steam rose from its surface, too tempting to ignore. Pushing his underwear off his hips, he let them drop on the floor and stepped out of them, then climbed into the tub.
He groaned long and low as the hot water enveloped him, certain he had never felt anything better in his whole life. Closing his eyes, he dropped his head back on the edge, only then realizing that he still had on his balaclava. He hesitated for a moment, then reached up and pulled it off as well, dropping the dirty hood on top of his underwear. Fuck it. You’d seen his face before and hadn’t made a big deal out of it, didn’t even comment on it, really, just took it in stride like you did everything else.
He cracked an eye open when you re-entered the room, watching as you placed his clean clothes on the counter next to the sink. You opened another cabinet and removed some towels and a washcloth, glanced over at him, then opened a drawer and took out what looked like a pack of wipes and a squat, plastic jar with a pink lid. You brought it all to the tub with you and knelt by the side, near his head. You held up the pack of wipes and pointed at the black paint around his eyes.
“Figured these would help take that gunk off. I’ve got some cold cream, too. Can I...”
You wanted to touch his face. His mouth dropped open to say no, but then he closed it and swallowed. You were looking right at him, a normal expression on your face, not flinching away or averting your eyes. If it didn’t bother you, then he would allow it. For now. He gave a slow nod of assent.
You opened the pack of wipes and set them beside you, then opened the cold cream. “Lean your head back and close your eyes for me.”
Simon did as he was told, though his brain was sounding a klaxon alarm in his head. He was exposing his throat to someone, was closing his eyes and leaving himself vulnerable to your mercy. Did you see how tense he was? Could you see the muscles spasming as he fought not to move, to push you away, to fend you off like an enemy? Did you understand what this was doing to him right now?
Apparently, you did, at least to some extent. 
“Okay, Si. I’m going to put this cream around your eyes. It will feel cold, so don’t freak out. If you need to stop, just say the word. Alright?”
“Yeah,” he croaked out, waiting, steeling himself for the contact.
The first touch had him flinching, but he forced himself to remain still as you spread the cream around his eyes, working it in with your fingers in small circular motions. When you finished, you set the jar down and picked up the wipes. “I’m gonna clean all this off with these wipes. They’ll feel cold, too.”
This time, he only nodded, more relaxed now. Your touch had been soothing once he’d gotten used to it. It was... nice. He didn’t even twitch an eyelash when he felt the cool pressure of your fingers against his jaw, letting you tilt his head towards you. Your other hand began wiping gently at his face with one of the wipes. They smelled slightly floral, similar to the cold cream; he liked it.
It took several minutes to clean his face, neither of you saying anything. You were patient and methodical, cleaning away all the paint until none of it remained.
“Okay. Done with that,” you murmured, fingers moving from his face to his hair. “I’m going to wash your hair next, okay?”
“Hm,” he hummed in consent, not even bothering to open his eyes.
You wet his hair and then poured shampoo into your palm, working your hands together before placing them on his head. As your fingers curled and began to work his hair into a lather, Simon couldn’t help the low groan that rumbled out. It felt like heaven, the way your fingers massaged his scalp and neck. He could have whined when you stopped, but his breath hitched when he felt your fingertips under his chin, tilting his head back.
“Just need to rinse your hair, Grumpy. Keep your eyes closed.”
Again, he did as you instructed, not offering so much as a grunt of complaint when you rinsed his hair and then used the washcloth to dry his face. You raked your fingers through his hair, noting how choppy and uneven it was. Maybe he’d let you cut it some time, but for now, you would stick to what you knew he would allow.
“How ‘bout I wash your back for you and then I’ll go downstairs and make you something to eat while you finish your bath?”
He blinked his eyes open and stared at you. The steam and trapped heat from the bath were making you sweat, a light sheen making your skin gleam in the warm light. He had the sudden urge to run his thumb up your throat, collect the moisture beading there and taste it. He felt his cock give a twitch of interest below the water and brought his bent knees closer together. Grasping the edges of the tub, he pulled himself in to a sitting position, back bowed towards you.
Pleased to see him so cooperative, you dunked the washcloth in the water and grabbed your body wash, squirting out a couple of dollops. Working the cloth in your hands until you had a good lather, you rested one hand on his shoulder and used the other to slowly scrub the cloth over his back in large circles. You could feel the tension easing out of his shoulders, watched his head tip forward until he finally crossed his forearms on his knees and rested his forehead against them.
When you were done with his back, you didn’t stop, moving up to his shoulders and then down his arm. He leaned back, studying the way you washed each finger, working the cloth between them. You glanced up at him. “Other arm?”
He twisted around and held his arm out to you, resting his wrist on the edge of the tub. You washed it with as much care as you had the other, leaning over the tub to reach his underarm. When you went to slide the cloth away, he caught your wrist and pulled it to the center of his chest. He then closed his eyes and leaned back, letting his head rest against the edge again.
Slow circles worked the lathered cloth over his broad chest and collarbones, and you smiled when he tipped his chin up to let you wash his neck. A soft breath hissed between his lips as your hand dipped below the water’s surface to wash his sides and stomach, his brows ticking together when you brought the cloth back up. He shifted, his knees going wide to lean against the sides of the tub.
You were beginning to feel heat simmering in your lower belly that sent a blush creeping up your neck. “Do, uh... I can wash your legs next. If you like.”
He caught your hand in his, eyes still closed, and pushed it beneath the water again. “Wash here,” he replied, his voice like gravel in his throat.
You held your breath as he guided your hand down to his cock, let him wrap your fingers around its swollen girth and hold them there. His chest was rising and falling, chin tipping forward to rest on it when he felt you grip him tighter. Your lips parted as you gave him a tentative stroke, your breath puffing out in little pants as you watched him let out a shuddering breath, his eyes rolling open to reveal a lust-dazed expression before sliding closed again.
Your hand slid up and down his shaft in slow, even strokes, working him gradually, wanting him to enjoy what you were doing to him. His pleasure incited your own, and you could feel your panties grow damp with your arousal as you watched him slowly fall apart. He was panting now, head lolling back once more, hooded, hazy eyes staring up at the ceiling, his knuckles going white as they gripped the edge of the tub.
Your thighs squeezed together when a wrecked moan tore from his lips as you worked at him beneath the cloudy water, wishing it was clear enough for you to see him as well as feel him. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, the feel of his hot length pulsing in your hand almost too much to bear.
“Ah, fuck...” he huffed out, his back beginning to curl forward. He lifted his eyes to yours, mouth open and panting, a look of near desperation on his face. His hand came up to grip the nape of your neck, drawing you close until his forehead rested against yours, holding your gaze. His nose brushed against yours in an intimate caress, lips almost touching, the two of you sharing the same air. “Don’t stop,” he husked out.
The speed of your strokes increased, your hand slipping up to focus on the head, making his knees draw up as he tensed. You could feel him swelling in your hand, growing bigger and harder as he neared his release. His eyes grew wide, mouth falling open as his jaw went slack.
“It’s okay, Simon,” you whispered to him, “I got you,” and that was all the prompting he needed.
His grip turned into a vice on the nape of your neck as he erupted beneath the surface of the water, and he growled against your mouth, teeth gritting into a snarl as he pulsed in your hand. You didn’t stop stroking him until his eyes closed and grip loosened on your neck, his breaths puffing out in exerted gasps over your lips.
You let him rest against you, not bothering to move or say anything, wanting him to have this quiet moment, to just relax in the knowledge that he was home and safe, that you were here for him. You closed your eyes and let yourself enjoy the moment as well, relishing the quiet, the peace.
Simon’s eyes flickered open, not sure what to expect, only to find your eyes closed, lashes shadowing your cheeks, a gentle smile on your face. You looked so calm, so at peace. You looked... content.
You blinked your eyes open, startled, when you felt the hesitant press of his lips against yours, but you didn’t shy away, instead letting him feel you smile against his lips before you tenderly kissed him back.
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dulcewrites · 5 months
Note
ewan in the saltburn trailer is j sooo giving private school filthy rich aemond i love it
AND YES HE NEEDS HIS POC GF
I have been feeling…. less than inspired lately about hotd tbh but hopefully this will spark something. I know no one asked for this lol. This was inspired by Beyoncé’s Upgrade U. Honestly, I don't think Aemond would be much of a loser in a modern setting. He would be far too elusive and people would find him interesting simply based on that. But I am combining/changing some lore here so he is a #loser in this like I am assuming Ewan's character is Saltburn is.
Upgrade You
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x rich!reader (wc: 2k)
Summary: You have always enjoyed having a project to build or fix up and Aemond Targaryen is no different
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You flick a spoolie brush over your brows as you finished up your makeup. The lights from your vanity mirror illuminating you as you put the last touches on your face.
"I don't get it," Melanie sighed as she hugged one of your pillows to her chest. She sat crossed legged on your California king bed. "You're like the smartest person I know. Why do you need to be tutored?"
"Everyone can improve themselves, no matter what someone's specialty may be. Remember that."
Melanie nodded enthusiastically. Sweet girl, you think. A little daft at times but nothing some time under your guidance cannot fix.
She tilts her head curiously. "You are pretty dressed up for a library meeting too."
"Another lesson," you fluff your curls then turn from the mirror to her. "Do not let anyone tell you that you are overdressed. Does the library have a dress code?"
Melanie shakes her head slowly.
"So, who is going to tell me to change?"
"... No one?"
"Exactly."
Melanie chews on her lip in thought as if she is taking mental notes in her head. Though she is not wrong you are quite dressed up just to be studying. But your advice was also not wrong; any moment to be noticed should be taken and made the most of. If are to come into contact with any of your peers, why not make the best impression possible. You also do not have in it in you to tell your new pupil about the real reason as to why you were making this little trip. Best move through life with your cards close to your chest as your mother tells you. You can only imagine how wide Melanie's hazel eyes would get if you told her what you had up your sleeve.
Much like how you help the girls around you cultivate their futures, you must look out for your own as well. Your phone dings, and you smile when you check the notification.
Aemond Targaryen.
Archaic, some would say. Sending the feminist movement back 50 years, many could argue. Being realistic is more how you would put it. You have money, sure. Your parents have afforded you all the opportunities they wanted you to have, and for that you are grateful. But you are not naive; this is still very much a man's world. No matter how much money you have, there will be people who will look at you and hate you for having the gall to want more. For having ideas and wanting to express them. For looking the way, you do - for using the way you look against them.
You may not be able to have a seat at the table... but you can have someone build another for you.
Your family may have resources and money. But they do not have 'my father can use company family buy his way into politics; my mom has ancestry that traces back to French royalty' reach.
Luckily for you, there is someone who does have that access.
A little rough around the edges, but nothing some TLC cannot fix. It was one of your best traits: finding the diamonds in the rough and polishing them off so they shine brighter than before.
You go over to your closet and open the double doors. As your eyes search over the different handbags, you call out back to Melanie.
"Watercolor Dior saddle or creme Bottega Jodie?"
"Dior," she calls back.
You check yourself in the mirror before existing the closet.
"Well," you twirl for Melanie. You run hand over your midi turtleneck dress. You knee length boots clanked around as you moved in a circle.
"Perfect," she beams.
She sees you out to your car. With the window rolled down, she waves you off like a mother seeing their child off for kindergarten.
"Happy studying!"
Sweet and simple, just how you like em.
———
You always thought the best thing about Oxford was how it looked in the fall. The leaves begun to change, sprite green to a blend of red, orange, purple, and brown. Made the most picturesque background. But it seemed like how gently the leaves fell from the trees was the only thing that was coming easily.
Maybe it was naivety on your part, but you thought when you showed up in four-inch patent leather Aquazzura heels and literally no books, Aemond would have got the hint. And yet, here you were talking about the components of stockholder’s equity, as if you cared.
"So," you interrupt him mid rant. "Any fun plans for Winter break? I know it is a while away, but everyone is already taking about what they are doing."
He wrinkles his nose, his glasses being pushes up in the process. "Probably just dinner with the family."
Right. The compound. At least that is what the Targaryen main home looks like. You of course needed to your research.
"Well, there is this crazy Christmas that happens before everyone leaves," you shuffle closer to him, and you hope he gets a whiff of your perfume. "Maybe we can go together?"
Aemond snorts and looks down bit sheepishly. "Highly doubt, I am invited."
You fight the urge to sigh wistfully. Cute, smart, wealthy as fuck... and apparently awfully insecure. Everyone throwing the party should be falling at their knees to have him around. But you have since understood during your time at Oxford that many students here do not understand the opportunities in front of them.
If Aemond had any real confidence, he'd say fuck it because he could buy everyone going if he wanted to. They ignore him because he allows them to. And then you realize he is one of those people; the delusional 'I want to get by on my merit not my name' kind of people.
Oh sweet, silly boy.
"That doesn't matter," you wave him off. "Besides, if anyone says anything, you can just say you're with me. Consider it a thank you for doing this for me."
You let your hand slip on his thigh and squeeze slightly.
"Better yet, let's call it a date."
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Rhaenyra would think for the amount of money her family has; they would be able to afford stronger liquor. But she has a feeling that it has nothing to do with money, and more about the 'champagne only' rule Alicent liked.
The expansive backyard was decorated impeccably, as it always is for the annual holiday party that they throw. Twinkly lights in the trees, red and green everywhere, and even a frankly nouveau riche ice sculpture. The affair was black tie, and Rhaenyra could feel the eyes of some guess when she showed up in a red fitted suit. Taking small sips from her glass, she looks around the area. She swears the more years go on, the less she recognizes who is invited to things like this.
"Don't tell me step-mommy has put you in timeout."
She rolls her eyes when she hears a familiar voice. Daemon comes to stand next to her, with a small glass in his hand.
"No, you fucker," Rhaenyra then frowns. "Where did you get the scotch?"
"Why do you think I am in timeout?"
Her uncle always found a way around the rules. Rhaenyra blows air out of her cheeks in annoyance. She looks down at her watch; another rule is that they were required to stay at 2 hours. Only 45 minutes has passed since she arrived.
"Heard you are going to the company retreat this year," Daemon downs the rest of the drink and winces at the burning.
"Someone has to represent the family with dad," she shrugs, a small amount of smugness seeping into her tone. "He asked me to go."
"Hmmm," Daemon smirks at her smugness. "You and Aemond."
Rhaenyra blinks confused. "What?"
"Yup," he leans against the wall. "I suppose Viserys found a new muse."
Rhaenyra snorts at his words but then licks her lips nervously. It sounds cruel to think, but it was never something she ever really worried about - her father preferring her siblings over her. At least not something she worried about in her adulthood. Sure, as a girl, newly off the passing of her mother, seeing her father marry a woman only six years her senior rattled her. Aegon being born shortly after only made things more tense. But, and to his own detriment really, Viserys had made sure she came first.
"I did not know Aemond had an interest in the company in the first place."
"He didn't," Daemon's mouth pinches a little. "Not until... recently."
Rhaenyra follows her uncle's gaze out to where Aemond was standing. He always managed to look more grow up than his sibling, more than Helaena and Aegon. A mimicry that Rhaenyra thinks he picked up from his mother, but something seemed different now.
New haircut, no glasses, new suit. Armani? No, Tom Ford. With a Cartier tie clip and sparking cuff links to match. He is surrounded by some of the lawyers that work at the company.
"Looks like university has done him well," Rhaenyra tries to sound as even keeled as possible. "Good for him."
"No," Daemon sounds bored with her strained pleasantries. "That is what pussy does someone who has never got any before."
Rhaenyra blanches. The last thing she wants to think about is her younger brother having sex. She sets her champagne down in disgust.
"Don't be gross."
Daemon huffs before directing his attention towards the other side of the courtyard. His eyes zero in on Alicent, who tosses her auburn hair over her shoulder as she laughs with a young woman. A pretty young woman.
"Only met this semester and managed to get a holiday party invite, and a seat next to mother dearest. She must some charmer."
"You know," Rhaenyra starts. "Not every woman that is around this family is some sort of ruthless social climber."
"Of course, not every woman. Only the smart ones."
She sighs. That was not just pointed at the girl, but at Alicent too. Even though Alicent grew up with an even cushier life than they did. A type of old money that even the Targaryens had to give credence to. Strangely enough, Daemon seemed to take Viserys remarrying worse than Rhaenyra did. Even Rhaenyra over the years has grown to accept the fate that is their blended family. Accepted it enough to be cordial, albeit sometimes still awkward, with Alicent. They have forever been bonded in having to deal with the moods that come with Viserys Targaryen. But Daemon... it seems like he has never forgiven his brother for the act of moving on. He seemed to only grow more jaded since the divorce from Laena.
"How do you even know this?"
"Aemond told Aegon who told Helaena who told Rhaena who told Baela who told me."
Rhaenyra breaks her gaze from the two women. "Keeping tabs on your nephew that you barely speak to?"
Daemon gave her an empty smile. Almost a little cruel like he would crush her like a bug if it would not so pitiful. "You naive little thing. When you figure things out, let me know."
Rhaenyra wants to ask him what he means by that, but Daemon pushes himself off the wall he was leaning against to leave Rhaenyra alone.
Alone was a feeling she was used to. Rhaenyra often found solace in the loneliness that she found herself stuck in. If she did not find comfort in it, it would swallow her whole. Jaw unhinged and bloodthirsty.
Her eyes went back to the where Alicent and the girl were sitting, but Helaena seemed to replace the girl's place to speak with her mother. Instead of getting chummy with Alicent, the mystery woman had gone over to Aemond. Rhaenyra felt a little queasy watching them. Like watching two little dolls or those silly little cake toppers people get. Picture perfect like the stock photos that came in picture frames.
She shook her head at herself with an internal laugh. Here she was picking apart her baby brother's seemingly first real relationship; she was no better than Daemon if she did that. It was she told herself when she watched one of the wives of the company's lawyers come up to the girl and give her kiss on the cheek. Like they were old family friends.
Rhaenyra suddenly finds herself straightening out her jacket and her heels moving across the outdoor area. Might as well introduce herself... as a kind sister figure, of course.
She has a funny feeling she will be seeing this girl around more often.
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libraryofgage · 6 months
Text
Hashah Tovah! It's Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and there's no such thing as too much Jewish Steve in my book (that being said, this story isn't about the New Year, it's about Shabbat hfjdks)
Also, I'm gonna be honest, this fic is a love letter to Judaism and my experiences with my temple and the people there. My experiences aren't universal, though, so please don't take anything here as, like, the end-all-be-all of Judaism. If you have questions about anything here, you can ask me; I'll be happy to answer ^_^
The time period is also very loose. Upside Down happened, but some of the attitudes are probably a bit more modern. Honestly, I suggest just shutting off your brain and enjoying the story lmao
CW: vague mentions of antisemitism and homophobia
As always, if you see any typos no you didn't
(also this is like 4k so buckle in bois)
----
Steve's car has officially given up on life. Honestly, he's surprised it even managed to live this long. For all it's been through, it probably deserves some rest and TLC. Steve just wishes it could have demanded that rest and TLC on any other day.
Because it's Friday. Because it's Shabbat. Because he's about to have a mob of concerned elderly members of his temple crowding his door if he doesn't go to services tonight, and that's not something he wants his neighbors to see.
He considers calling Robin, but she won't be much help. She might be his Emergency Goy, but she doesn't have a car. Now that he's thinking about it, Robin may not be the best Emergency Goy, not that he'd ever tell her that.
He knows one other person with a car, of course, but that means he has to call Eddie. Not that Steve has anything against him, of course, but Eddie makes him feel a lot of things that he's not quite ready to confront just yet.
Steve frowns, staring at the phone for a long moment, trying to come up with any other option.
Steve comes up empty.
Shit.
He takes a deep breath and takes the phone off the receiver, slowly punching in the numbers as though he'll suddenly have an epiphany before he's finished dialing.
Unfortunately, he doesn't, and the phone is now ringing. It rings twice before getting picked up, Eddie's familiar voice saying, "You've reached Casa de Munson. The fuck do you want?"
"Do you always answer the phone like that?" Steve asks, momentarily forgetting about the favor he was planning to ask.
He hears Eddie hum and can practically picture the way he's now leaning against the wall next to the phone, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Stevie. What, pray tell, has you calling me?" he asks.
Steve almost hangs up. This is already stressful for him. What if Eddie doesn't agree? Worst, what if he does? Wouldn't that mean Eddie is going to see a part of himself that nobody but Robin has seen? That's fucking terrifying. What if Eddie suddenly hates him?
"I, uh, I need a favor," Steve admits.
"What kind of favor?"
If he wanted, Steve could just lie. It wouldn't be his first time lying about Friday plans. "My car won't start," Steve says, hesitating for a second more before continuing, "and I need a ride to the next town tonight."
"Gee, Harrington, get invited to a party?" Eddie asks, a slight edge to his voice that Steve can't quite place.
"What? No. I...it's not a party, okay? This is really important to me, man. Can you give me a ride or should I ask someone else?"
Maybe Hopper or Joyce would have enough time to give him a ride. He just needs to be dropped off. Getting back...can be a bridge he crosses when he comes to it.
"What time would we be getting back?" Eddie asks, pulling Steve from his thoughts.
"Probably after nine. And we need to be there at six, so that means leaving here no later than five," Steve says, trying to ignore the growing hope and sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. "I know it's really last minute, but you could spend the night at my place after. If you want."
"Will it be fun?"
"Uh, maybe? I don't know, man, it kinda depends. I find it fun, but you might get...bored," Steve says. Or offended. Maybe infuriated? Maybe betrayed that this is a whole part of Steve's life he's never hinted at.
"You're being real mysterious about all this, big boy."
"Yeah, I'm sorry. It's just hard to explain."
"Well, lucky for you, I'm bored and curious."
----
On the drive, Eddie keeps trying to figure out where Steve is directing him. He keeps asking questions, Steve keeps dodging them, and that feeling of inevitable dread keeps growing.
Of course, all that dodging is rendered obsolete as Eddie pulls into a parking spot and shuts off the van. A few families are walking into the temple, some parents glancing curiously at the unfamiliar van, some glancing suspiciously, and some too distracted by kids to notice.
"Uh, are you sure this is the place?" Eddie asks, frowning slightly as he looks at the temple and then at Steve.
Steve swallows around the lump in his throat, his hands nervously gripping the material of his sweater. "I'm Jewish," he blurts out, feeling his face burning. When a few seconds pass without any response, he burns holes into a tree outside and adds, "It's Friday night services. Shabbat. I've missed too many because of...you know. The, um, the Rabbi called and asked if I was okay, and I promised to be at services tonight. You don't have to stay if you don't feel comfortable."
"You don't look Jewish."
Steve tenses, jerking his head to look at Eddie. There's no malice in his eyes. No suspicion, either, thankfully. He just looks...confused. "What's a Jew supposed to look like?" Steve asks in return, wondering if Eddie even knows that he's toeing the edge of the antisemitic swimming pool.
Eddie opens his mouth before closing it again. "Uh...I don't know, actually. Just...not you, I guess?"
Okay. Yeah. Steve can deal with this. He forces himself to relax. "Well, Jews come in all shapes and sizes," he says. He hesitates before deciding to get a burning question out of the way. "Are you angry?"
"What the fuck would I be angry about?"
"That I didn't tell you. That I was Jewish. To be fair, only Robin knows."
Eddie shakes his head, turning in his seat to face Steve. "No, Stevie, I'm not angry. I mean, I live in Hawkins, too. Not exactly the place to be standing out unless you wanna get accused of murder."
Despite himself, Steve can't help snorting at that. He takes a deep breath, the last bit of tension leaving his shoulders. "Well, uh, do you want to stay for services?" he asks.
"Can I? I'm not Jewish. And I'm dressed like this," Eddie says, gesturing at his clothes.
A Hellfire Club shirt, denim vest, gaudy rings, and dark jeans. It's incredibly Eddie, and something about it reassures Steve. He says, "You're with me, so not being Jewish is fine. And your clothes are okay, too. It's not formal."
"My shirt literally says Hellfire."
"Well, it's a good thing Judaism doesn't really have a hell."
Eddie stares at him for a few seconds, clearly full of questions, but then he just nods and climbs out of the van. Steve blinks and scrambles out as well, wanting to create some kind of buffer between Eddie and the congregation members who see a stranger and instantly become defensive.
The moment he's shut the door, he hears a little kid shout excitedly, "Steve!"
He whirls around in time to see a young girl rush across the parking lot, much to the shock and concern of her guardian. Thankfully, there aren't any cars, so the girl is unimpeded in her rush to Steve.
Eddie comes around the side of the van just in time to see the girl launch herself at Steve, giggling when he lifts her up and spins. "Yael! Have you gotten bigger?" he asks, smiling brightly as he comes to a stop and sets her on his waist.
Yael returns his smile with a grin of her own, tilting her head up so he can clearly see the brand-new gap in her teeth. "I lost a tooth! See? It came out last week," she tells him, practically bouncing in his arms.
By now, Yael's grandfather has reached them, smiling indulgently. "Yael," he says, his voice gentle but firm, "you know better than to run across parking lots." When she mumbles an apology, he looks at Steve, his smile turning warm. "Steve, it's been a few weeks. I'm glad to see you again, and you've even brought a friend."
Steve returns the smile and nods, shifting closer to Eddie. "Yeah, things got a little...chaotic in Hawkins. Oh. Mr. Adler, this is Eddie Munson. Eddie, Elijah Alder."
Mr. Adler's eyes light up, and Steve suddenly remembers something incredibly embarrassing. "Oh?" he says, looking at Eddie with renewed interest, "So this is the famous Eddie Munson? I'm glad to see you've healed well."
Eddie blinks, glancing at Steve. "Uh, thanks. How'd you know?"
"Steve asked the Rabbi to include you during the Mi Shebeirach."
"The Misha what now?"
"Mi Shebeirach," Steve says, gently nudging Eddie with his elbow. "It's a prayer for healing."
Mr. Adler nods once, his eyes practically dancing with new gossip. "Oh, yes, you've created quite the stir among the Sisterhood, you know. They have a backlog of Mi Shebeirach cards and nowhere to send them."
Steve translates that information as "the old ladies have been dying to know who this mysterious Eddie Munson is, so Steve had better brace himself." His smile becomes a little strained. "Well, let's get it over with, then."
Mr. Adler nods and gestures for Steve and Eddie to follow as he leads them toward the temple. While they walk, Yael looks at Eddie, her eyes wide. "Why is your hair so long?" she asks.
"Cuz I like it that way."
"Oh. Why are you wearing rings?"
"Because they're cool."
"Oh. Why did you need healing?"
"I was hurt really bad."
"Oh. By what?"
"A bear."
"Oh. Are you Steve's friend?"
Eddie glances at Steve, meeting his eyes for a brief second before smiling at Yael. "Yeah, Stevie and I are best friends."
Yael smiles right back. "Steve is my best friend, too! He's super strong and can carry me without getting tired and makes the best hamentaschen at Purim!"
"Yael," Mr. Adler says, cutting off any continuation of the conversation as they reach the doors of the temple. "Why don't you go let the Rabbi know Steve has joined us?"
Her entire face lights up with joy. "Okay!" she shouts, wiggling in Steve's arms until he lets her down. She tugs open the door, straining until Steve smiles and helps her. "Thanks! Bye, Steve!"
With that, she dashes into the temple, her voice carrying Steve's name into the room full of other people. When almost all of them, including three children that Steve can see, stop what they're doing and look over at the door, Mr. Adler says from behind Steve and Eddie, "Brace yourselves, my boys. The wolves have appeared."
Steve groans as Mr. Adler pushes them both inside. "Should I be worried?" Eddie whispers, leaning in closer to Steve as the door shuts behind them.
"I apologize in advance," Steve tells him.
Despite his words, he has a large grin as the three kids shout his name and rush over, much like Yael did. They're followed by a few teenagers and their parents. The kids pounce on Steve, two holding onto his biceps and hanging from them as he raises his arms while the third clings to his leg.
"Where ya been?" one of the teens asks, her hair pulled back into a ponytail so permed it looks ready to burst.
"Yeah, man, I've been manning the oneg table by myself," another teen says, his arms crossed over a Metallica shirt. He's got piercings climbing up one ear and through an eyebrow, and his gaze moves to Eddie as he speaks, taking in the other boy. "Who's this?"
"Yeah," another girl asks, smiling at Eddie and batting her eyes in a way that makes even Steve feel uncomfortable, "who's your friend, Steve?"
"Kids," an older woman says, pushing her way through them, "you know better than to crowd. Shouldn't you be passing out prayer books right now?" Once she's managed to shoo the teens away, she turns her gaze on the children still clinging to Steve. "And you three, I heard Mrs. Rost needs help in the kitchen. Something about there being too many cookies to platter all by herself."
Steve suddenly finds himself weightless as the kids abandon him, dashing down the hall toward the kitchen. He smiles with slight relief and looks at the woman. "Thanks," he says, rolling his shoulders.
"Of course, Steve. Now, who's your friend?" she asks, looking Eddie up and down curiously.
"Oh, right. Uh. Rabbi, this is Eddie Munson. Eddie, this is Rabbi Sara. I, um, I was hoping he could sit in on services tonight?"
Rabbi Sara immediately smiles at them. She holds out her hand to Eddie, shaking firmly when he returns the gesture. "Of course! I'm glad to see you're doing better, Eddie. We've been a bit worried about you here," she says. She glances around before leaning in and conspiratorially whispering, "There's a betting pool on whether his name would be added to the Mourner's Kiddish."
Steve snorts, knowing exactly which members would have started that bet. "Yeah, well, tell Diane and Yakov they've lost."
Rabbi Sara barely holds back her laughter, nodding once as she lets go of Eddie's hand. "Well, how about I spare you boys from socializing more," she offers.
When Steve nods, she gestures for them to follow her, leading the way to the sanctuary. He glances at Eddie as they walk, taking in the way he's tugging on a lock of hair and looking at the hall around them. "You doing okay?" Steve whispers, leaning in closer.
Eddie glances at him, is silent for a few minutes, and then says, "It's a lot to take in."
"Service will be easier. Lots of music. You'll like it," Steve promises, smiling reassuringly at Eddie. He hesitates before adding, "And if you want to leave, just let me know. The important part was making sure people saw I wasn't dead."
That's not entirely true. Steve doesn't want to leave the Shabbat service. He misses the routine of it and the feeling of togetherness as everyone sings. But Eddie's comfort is taking precedence here; he's already given Steve a ride and has begun subjecting himself to Steve's nosy congregation. Leaving early if he gets overwhelmed is the least Steve can do, really.
The teen in the Metallica shirt, Sam, holds out two prayer books when Rabbi Sara leads them to the sanctuary doors. His gaze lingers on Eddie for a few seconds more before asking, "Dude, do I know you?"
Eddie blinks and raises an eyebrow. "I don't know. Do you?"
Their gazes hold for nearly a minute before Sam's eyes widen and light with recognition. Steve is bracing himself for the worst (you know, devil worshipper, accused murderer, wannabe criminal, take your pick). Instead, Sam grins and says, "Yeah, I totally do! You're in that band, yeah? The one that plays at Hideout sometimes? Corroded Coffin. Your music is metal, man."
Eddie returns Sam's grin, throwing an arm over his shoulders and leaning in close. "You know, you're alright. Always happy to meet a fan. What's your favorite song?"
"You played that new one last Saturday. Bats, I think. It spoke to me, man."
Steve stares at Eddie, wondering how he missed the fact that Corroded Coffin started playing gigs again. A curl of something like regret or maybe hurt begins to build in his stomach, and he's almost overtaken by it when Eddie nods and says, "Oh, yeah, that one's about Stevie."
"Oohh, dude, that makes so much sense now."
"You wrote a song about me?" Steve asks, successfully regaining Eddie's attention.
Apparently, Eddie sort of forgot he was there. His relaxed posture becomes a little awkward, and he removes his arm from Sam's shoulder. He clears his throat, tugging a lock of hair in front of his mouth as he says, "Yeah. Is, uh, is that a problem?"
"No," Steve says, feeling a reassuring smile tug at his lips, "but you should play it for me sometime."
"This is all very touching," a voice says behind them, "but can you take the flirting inside the sanctuary? We still need our prayer books."
Steve jolts and looks behind them, laughing awkwardly when he sees Rivkah, a woman in her early 30s, and her partner, Tamar. "Sorry," he says, grabbing Eddie's arm and dragging him through the doors.
"Hey, Harrington," Eddie whispers, allowing himself to be pulled over to some chairs near the left corner of the sanctuary, "is everything okay? Like...are we...safe?"
It takes a moment for Steve to understand what Eddie means. Like, of course, he can't guarantee their safety. It's a synagogue. Every person here old enough to understand the world knows the risk, the potential for one person to show up and wreak utter destruction. Steve is about to say as much (and explain the temple's "worst case scenario" game plan) when he notices Eddie glancing at Rivkah and Tamar.
A light bulb practically clicks on above him, and he almost laughs at himself. He sits down and tugs Eddie into the seat next to him. "Yeah, we're safe, Eds," he promises, smiling softly when Eddie looks at him. "Rivkah and Tamar are married. I attended the ceremony. It was very nice. Tamar broke the glass."
Eddie's eyes widen slightly, and he looks around the sanctuary with renewed interest. His gaze especially lingers on the people that file in, taking in the couples and families and groups that wouldn't make much sense outside the temple's doors. Steve is content to let him look, allowing himself to relax back into the seat and wait.
After almost 15 minutes, Rabbi Sara approaches the bema and smiles at everyone. "Good evening, and Shabbat Shalom," she says, nodding along as her greeting is returned. "I'm glad to see so many familiar faces tonight. And some new ones. The week has been long for some of us, but it's now come to an end, and we have gathered to celebrate its end, another week's beginning, and being together. Now, please open your books to page 47 for the L'cha Dodi."
Steve flips open his book as Anna, the cantor and the same girl who tried to flirt with Eddie, starts playing the guitar next to Rabbi Sara. "Uh, the book is backward," Eddie whispers, leaning close to Steve.
"Hebrew is written right to left," Steve explains, taking Eddie's book and opening it to the right page. "Also, don't worry about singing along. Just try to follow. If you don't know where we are, just nudge me. I'll point you to the right spot."
Eddie nods, looking almost overwhelmed, but Rabbi Sara starts singing before Steve can reassure him verbally. Instead, he just shifts so their shoulders are pressed together, flashing a tiny smile when Eddie looks at him before joining the rest of the congregation in singing.
Steve has to point Eddie at the right line a few times, but he doesn't mind. He's memorized the prayer by now, and the book is really just for show. He pulls Eddie up with the rest of the congregation during the L'cha Dodi, turns him to the sanctuary doors, and places a hand on his back to gently nudge him into a bow. Eddie blinks through it, following along but seeming overwhelmed by the entire process. When the prayer is finished and Rabbi Sara invites them to greet each other, Steve looks at Eddie with a smile (one of the most genuine smiles he's had in weeks), holds out his hand, and says, "Shabbat Shalom, Eddie."
Eddie doesn't hesitate to take his hand, leaning in close and returning the smile. "Shabbat Shalom?" he asks, speaking slowly to test the words and let Steve approve of the pronunciation. When Steve nods, Eddie's smile grows wider, and he whispers, "Shabbat Shalom, sweetheart."
That...that's a new nickname. And Steve doesn't know what to do with it. Maybe Eddie just wanted the pseudo-alliteration, but his smile says otherwise, and Steve feels like he's frozen in place.
And then a few of the kids dash over to him, shouting, "Shabbat Shalom!" at the top of their lungs and practically fighting to shake his hand first. Steve would feel honored if he didn't know they raced to beat each other to every adult.
After greeting, they light the candles. After lighting the candles, Rabbi Sara leads them into the next prayer, the rest of the service flowing smoothly with her as their guide.
The service is (beautifully, wonderfully, incredibly, thankfully) the same as always. Prayers are sung, and Steve can practically feel them in his bones. He's never been particularly religious (his mother would say they're more culturally Jewish than anything else), but he can't deny that the sound of over 50 people, young and old and in-between, singing together is an otherworldly experience.
They are singing a language that only a few of them actually know how to speak. Steve is reading a language that he wouldn't recognize outside of the prayer book. It's disconcerting as always, but also special, because he shares in the ignorance and devotion wrapped into singing words he wouldn't understand without the book's translation on the opposite page.
The Mi Shebeirach and the Mourner's Kiddish are Steve's sign that service is almost over. And for the first time in forever, Steve doesn't speak any names when Rabbi Sara calls for them. He sinks back into his seat, an unfamiliar relief easing tension he didn't even know he had anymore. But it's true. Everyone is fine, and they've all healed, and Steve no longer has to say Max's name or Will's or Hopper's or Eddie's. He no longer has to dodge questions or call up the Rabbi and ask her to include an extra name in the service.
And this realization, the sheer relief he feels at the simple act of staying quiet when Rabbi Sara's gaze sweeps past him, is almost enough to bring him to tears. His throat gets tight, his eyes burn, and his voice almost cracks when he joins the rest of the congregation in singing for those in need of healing and those who have passed.
Eddie nudges him gently, and Steve glances at him and then at their shared armrest. Eddie's hand is lying palm-up, a silent invitation, and Steve doesn't hesitate to accept. He slips his hand into Eddie's, interlocking their fingers, and feels infinitely better when Eddie squeezes his hand gently.
----
"So," Steve says, refraining from getting up as others file out of the sanctuary, practically tripping over kids racing to reach the oneg brownies first, "did you...like it?"
Eddie is silent for a few minutes, staring down at their hands. Steve almost pulls away, an apology ready on his tongue, when Eddie squeezes his hand tighter. "Yeah. It was...different. But good. I...there was more singing than I expected."
Steve grins, glancing up to see the sanctuary has mostly cleared, and stands. He pulls Eddie up with him. "Yeah, we sing most of our prayers. It's nice."
"It is," Eddie agrees, still looking a little lost for words.
Steve doesn't push. Instead, he pulls, leading Eddie out of the sanctuary. He gives their prayer books to Sam, grabs two tiny, sample-sized cups of Manischewitz wine, and gives one to Eddie. "Don't drink it yet," he says, nodding to where Rabbi Sara has her own cup and is waiting for the rest to be passed around.
Once everyone is ready, she blesses the wine, blesses the challah, and invites them all to drink and eat. Steve braces himself before knocking the wine back, the strong, warm grape flavor coating his tongue, vaguely reminiscent of cough medicine. He sees the same grimace on Eddie's face. "This is shit wine," Eddie whispers, his nose still scrunched as he tosses the cup into the trashcan like he can't get rid of it fast enough.
"Yeah. It's specifically for services," Steve says, "it's not supposed to be good."
"Right," Eddie mumbles, glancing at the oneg table, his eyes lingering on the desserts laid out. "Do you wanna stick around? You know, talk to people?"
Usually, Steve would. He likes catching up with the kids and teens, likes ganging up on them when their parents come around and playfully scold them, and he likes hearing the most recent temple gossip. But as he looks at Eddie, feels their hands still tightly holding onto each other, Steve finds he doesn't mind leaving early.
So, he leans in closer to Eddie and grins at him. "Or," he whispers, "we could steal an extra pack of brownies from the kitchen, sneak out the back, and eat them on the drive home."
Eddie returns the grin, amusement and eagerness practically dancing in his eyes, and says, "You read my mind, sweetheart."
Later, when Eddie pulls into Steve's driveway after an hour-long ride spent eating brownies, explaining different prayers, and telling him about old temple gossip, a different kind of tension will start to fester between them. Steve will delay getting out of the car, Eddie won't comment on it, and they'll slowly gravitate toward each other.
And they'll kiss. It will be awkward and taste like chocolate and end far too quickly, but it will be perfect.
Steve will pull away, a faint blush rising and his heart racing faster than it ever did with Nancy, and shyly offer to let Eddie spend the night. And Eddie will accept and spend the night and ask to attend Shabbat with Steve again and...
And so much more.
But for now, while he has no clue of the future that's about to start after an hour's drive, Steve glances around the crowded hall and pulls Eddie toward the kitchen.
After all, they've got brownies to steal.
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itsscromp · 5 months
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FNAF animatronics x reader
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Did I go see the FNAF movie earlier today... yes. Am i going to write something about it, Hell yes !!! I may be open to writing for the fazgang maybe in the near future but this is just something for me to branch out and get out of my comfort zone. But anyways, Enjoy. Word count:815
One of the many things that clears your head after a day at school is riding your bike around town. It was the major thing that helped calm you down and clear your head. You usually take the same path every time, But today for some reason you decided to mix it up and went down a different road.
Upon riding down the unfamiliar area, You stumbled upon a building that looked abandoned for a long time. It looked like an attraction from back in the day. Under the name of 'Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria' and the mascot caught your attention.
You wanted to continue on your ride through the area but a part of your head wanted to know if there was anything inside, and why it had been abandoned for so long. The many questions in your mind and there was only one way to satisfy it. So you pedalled around the pizzeria and then found a potential opening at the back.
Parking your bike, You then jimmied the wooden panel and got it open, leading you inside a vent shaft. Pulling out your phone flashlight, you crawled inside and then kicked the vent off. Stumbling inside into what you'd expected. a restaurant and arcade, Still somewhat intact, despite the dust of course.
Continuing to explore the place, you then saw red curtains, A stage ??
"What do you have in the back of their ??' You said to yourself as you went to the one on the left and peeled open the curtain, Jumping when you saw what looked like an animatronic of a fox... wearing an eye patch ?? It didn't look in too good of shape too, seeing the holes on the skin.
"How long have you been here ??" You turned to the other stage peeling back the curtains and saw a bunny, a chicken and bear animatronics too, they weren't in too bad of damage like the fox, but they looked like they did need some TLC.
"Why didn't they take you guys, they could've helped you find a new home..." You closed the curtains as you backed away, having enough of your adventure.
But as you began to walk away, you heard a child's laughter. Now you were starting to get spooked out.
"Who's there ??" You called out.
But before you could react, the place sprung to life as the lights and sounds then shimmered and blared, You then noticed the curtains being pulled back as the animatronics started to dance and sing 'Talking in your Sleep' you were completely mesmerised by what was happening, you froze and watched.
You then found yourself tapping your feet to the beat of the song and then began to lightly dance, this was pretty fun.
Once the song was over, you couldn't help but smile at them.
"That was fantastic guys" You said to them as you picked up your backpack and began to walk out, But you were stopped again once you heard heavy thumping. Turned to see the animatronics moving of their own free will. Was this apart of the show ?? Nevertheless, they walked up to you and just looked down at you, Holy cow they were tall. Your anxiety slowly rose when they circled around you. they reached out their hands to you. But what you didn't expect was they started to tickle you.
"Guys... Stohohohohohop" You giggled as you squirmed around.
Your laughs grew and grew until it started to echo throughout the entire pizzeria. The animatronics had their mouths open, Maybe in a way to show you they were happy ??. That someone has finally interacted with them for so long.
They let you go as you smiled up at them, Whatever was going on. You were pretty happy you did interact with them. The fox gently took your hand and brought you over to a nearby poster and pointed at it with its hook. Showing you a poster with each of them, showing their respective names. The pirate fox is named Foxy. Bonnie is the bunny, Chica is the chicken and the leader Freddy Fazbear.
"It's nice to meet you all" You turned back to the others who had their mouths open, smiling again.
You heard your phone go off as your mom texted you to come back home. oh man.
"I gotta go now..."
They started to look sad, they were sad that you had to go.
"I'll.. I'll come back tomorrow ??' You suggested to them and they perked up, mouths opening again. yaaaaaayyyy !!!!
Foxy then wrapped his arms around you, gently hugging you as you hugged him back gently. Being mindful of the parts and everything, You gave the others a hug as well before waving goodbye to them and crawling back through the vent. You were excited to see them again the next day. They were pretty fun.
Taglist: @callofdudes @fun-k-board @gooptoshi
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yungpoetfics · 6 days
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Drowning In Sound
@meangirls-imagines here bub!!! ♡
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Title: Drowning in Sound
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Poly!plasticsverse
Trigger warnings: descriptions if sensory overload and anxiety (panic attack) symptoms, autistic/Adhd meltdown.
Word Count: 1.868 words
Summary: Y/N finds themself in the middle of a bad meltdown as her senses become overwhelmed by a multitude of things and the polycule has to take her home for some TLC.
obs: i apologize for any typos and low word count i had to write this on my phone!!!
In that particular afternoon a very strong heatwave was hitting North shore, and all the news broadcasts warned everyone to drink plenty of water, not overexercise amongst other dozen of warnings. The entirety of the week had already been quite a struggle for mostly everyone, with sultry weather making everyone sweat their pretty asses into almost fainting. It was bad enough that coach Carr had even dismissed the training for the football team who was now just sort of walking around looking confused about what they could do now that they suddenly had several vacant hours to fill (The vast majority of the guys simply went to their girlfriends.)
As Y/N sat in the back of the classroom, near a window fanning themself for what had to be the eighteen hundreth time, she kept trying to stop the ever resurfacing cascade of beads of sweat from falling down her face. She despised heat. And the way she had to tolerate everyone complaining about it, all the time, principal Duval's reoccuring warnings that seemed like a pre-recorded message being played every hour or so reminding the kids to take water breaks so they don't get heastroke. All of that was becoming a bit much for Y/N.
Too much. Too soon. All at once. Y/N could hear the marker hat Ms.Norbury was using to write grinding against the surface of the board and producing little squeaks, and someone sitting in the opposite end of the class had the sniffles because of hayfever. Subconsciously Y/N's leg began to bounce up and down as she tried to keep herself grounded. Too much. Too loud. Too much.
She was always a bit airheaded (not to say absolutely forgetful and tended to pay attention to anything but class) but by now, even Y/N's mist concentrated attempts at focusing were falling flat on their face. The words about todays lesson were becoming a incoherent mess of sounds which Y/N's brain was not translating into anything with meaning, her ears picking up each little phonem and pause and silence, but it was like her brain had somehow shut down on itself.
"What?" She asked; raising a hand and looked at Ms.Norbury pleading her ti repeeat what she had just said. But once .ore she found that the words didnt even feel like words. "Erm- i'm sorry i didnt quite catch that..."
By the third time Ms.Norbury repeated her sentence everyone's heads had turned to face Y/N noticing how flushed his face was. They felt as if they were an animal on the zoo being stared at; everyone probably thought was Y/N Was stupid. She wasn't, and no one actually thought. They felt nothing short of overwhelmed. They couldn't breathe.
A dog barking in the distance. The electricity was buzzing as the lamp inside the class varied in brightness during the class. People in the hall chitchatting, the birds chirping outside.
Screw this.
Y/N got up, grabbing her headset on her backpack and put it on, blaring her favorite band in a volume so loud that anyone in that class probably could hear the exact line of the song that had just been sung by the frontman of Simple Plan.
"Y/N Y/L/N, Take those off, class isn't over." Ms.Norbury said in a stern tone. Y/N began to fold some sheet of paper from her notebook into a paper airplane, ignoring the pleas from the woman as she tried to get her mind to slow down by repeating this same familiar task. As her fingers worked their way through the paper, shaping it carefully, she found herself mumbling a song which was stuck in her head and wasn't even the song she was listening to. Bits and pieces here and there, and sometimes Y/N made little bubble like noises by clicking her lips.
"Y/N!" Ms.Norbury repeated, speaking a bit louder but soon noticing the music Y/N was listening was loud enough she wouldn't hear her even if she was screaming in front of the entire class. Y/N was impulsive, sure. But this behavior seemed uncharacteristic... She was reckless but was not outright defiant towards authority figures like teachers.
"Alright everyone, take five. Get your water bottles filled or something."
Ms.Norbury ordered and everyone obeyed, scurring away to find a waterfountain. Y/N didn't get up though, sat crisscross on her seat, she still wiggled her legs and rocked their body back and forth. Her desk was covered in little paper airplanes and Y/N was chewing on the hoodie strings when her professor approached her pointing to her earphones as if requesting that Y/N took them off. That did not happen.
"I cant talk to you if you have them on" Ms.Norbury tried to speak, and rested a hand on Y/N's shoulder. The latina immediately pulled her body away and stood up grabbing her backpack and storming off, knocking the paper airplanes off her desk and onto the floor as she made her way out of the classroom and onto the halls.
Drowning. Drowning in sound. Her chest moved up and down, as the dismantled orchestra of screeches and teenage-hormones induced voicecracks surrounded her. One step after the other. One foot in front of the other. She pressed the button on the side of her headset increasing the volume to the maximum this device allowed. How do you drown out was is drowning you? She didn't know.
As she walked, hyperventilating, Y/N found her average stature colliding against the bulky and athletic figure of a familiar person. As the scent of Polo Red Parfum filled her nostrils Y/N identified who she bumped into even before she needed to raise her head.
"S-Shane?"
"Y/N? What the hell is happening? Oh god. You are shaking."
Shane's face contorted into a frown as his concern boiled to the surface. He wanted to hug Y/N but didn't quite know if that was a good idea, as his friend was looking like they had just about had too much of... well... of life. Of everything.
Y/N didn't answer him. And that was all he needed to prompt him into action.
"Don't move." He wrapped his letterman jacket around Y/N's shoulder and then sprung down the hall, slamming open the door of A.P english to grab Regina.
"George."
"Shane Oman. What are you doing?" The english teacher shushed him, with a very unfriendly look. But Regina had gotten up from her table and walked over to where Shane stood.
"We need to get Gretchen. We need Karen. Y/N is... something is up."
"MISS GEORGE. SIT DOWN"
She did not need to hear anything else. The professor could be damned. She could borrow notes from someone else later. Her boyfriend needed her. All she needed to know was "Y/N" and "something is up" in the same sentence. She knew gretchen was in History class and Karen was in art class. So Shane and Reg agreed to split up, with the blonde girl bolting to grab Ms.Wieners and Oman going over to Shetty. Both made quick, short phrased explanations and in no time the polycule had made their path to where Y/N was.
"Babe? My sweet love, hey... what is happening?"
Gretchen asked, noticing as Y/N bounced from her ankle to tippytoes over and over pacing in circles... she gently held her beloveds hand and gestured for Y/N: "Breathe. In. Out." A Simple command, easy to follow, to the point.
The first few inhales Y/N took felt really hard to take. It was as if there wasn't enough air in the world to make this breathlessness to go away. But slowly, breath by breath she felt her heart go from looking she had just run a marathon to beating within a normal range...
"Come." Regina took Y/N into the girl's restroom, running some coldwater on the tap, and she wet a small hand towel she had on her backpack, using it to gently wipe the sweat out of Y/N's brow. The moist, chilled sensation against her overheating skin was a welcome change, making Y/N sigh in relief. They had to remove Y/N's headset as to not get it wet. The heavy door of the female restroom made the room be much quieter than the rest of the school grounds.
"im sorry. This is so stupid i- i iust. Why is there so much sound?" Y/n asked, her pretty eyes glazed over with tears threatening to trickle down her cheeks. Her bottom lip quivered and she pouted without realizing it, her bottom lip covering the cupid's bow of her upper lip.
"No. It's not stupid. Its this stupid heatwave. Even i am getting annoyed at the pre-programmed messages. I feel like i am at an airport. I hate airports." Karen responded to Y/N making the other plsstics laugh. The robotic voice on the messages principal Duval had scheduled to play in the speakers definitely sounded like those warnings about flight delays.
"You got overstimulated, didn't you my pookie bear?"
Gretchen asked, gently running her fingers through Y/N's hair. Y/N began to cry softly.
"Too much. Too much sound. Too much. Everywhere. I-"
"Ssssh. Ssh. Easy. Easy there my boy." Karen kissed Y/N on the forehead. Regina gently ran the damp towel against the nape of Y/Ns neck and then whispered to them:
"You know what? Screw this. We are ditching."
Y/N's face jerked to the side sharply as she tried to counteragument the situation with Reggie.
"Nonono. Babe. I have class..."
"Your attendance is literally perfect. One day skipping isnt goimg to make you less honorable." Karen pointed out to Y/N shaking her head.
"Kare is right, my love... your mental health matters just as much as your academic success... lets ditch. We'll go back to my place and we can watch your favorite movie..."
Y/N was still a bit moody. As she tried to not start crying again she gave her girlfriends a soft smile and nodded before hugging them, and let them drag her out of the campus, into Regina's jeep, and then to Gretchen's home. Once there, Y/N got to have a nice long shower and change into a comfy and adorable onesie, jumping into the couch and snuggling amid her partners.
As the opening to Disney's Robin Hood echoed, Y/N wiggled her toes and bobbed her head to it, whistling along. This was perfect and now, far from the nightmareish hellscape that was their school she felt much less overstimulated. She felt at ease... Regina kept holding Y/N's hand, and Karen made popcorn, which she kept feeding to Y/N by putting directly in her mouth. Y/n couldn't possibly complain about being this pampered.
Eventually, around halfway through the movie they heard a subtle snore coming from Y/N and giggled. As per usual Y/N was knocked out, it's head resting against Regina's shoulder. The blonde smiled and the rest of the girls finished watching the film while Y/N got some much needes rest. All three plastics went to bed after Regina carried Y/N upstairs to the bedroom, sleeping all cuddled up into a little pile of love.
This. This was good. So much love. But it was not too much. In fact. Y/N could get used to it. She couldnt get enough of her girls. This was perfect.
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loove-persevering · 1 year
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Peter Sutherland x fem!Reader (The Night Agent)
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Description: Peter comes home injured from a mission and needs a little TLC! fem!reader (requested!)
Warnings: Fluff!!! Little angst!
Hi all first time writing for Peter! It’s a little short but I was excited! Please send some more Im working on another in my inbox tomorrow:)
The worry never went away really. Dating someone who was an agent for the FBI and the white house you constantly were holding your breath waiting for Peter to come back home.
Every single time the phone rang you would swear your heart rate increased out of fear that you’d get a call similar to the one you got the night of the Metro Bombing.
Peter knew how to take care of himself. That was forsure and he took care of you as well but that didn’t mean you didn’t worry. He had been gone on an assignment for about a week of course you had no idea where or what that entailed due to the security of his job and you never asked questions because he’d never tell. Peter was good at being loyal not only to you but his job, he had expectations to uphold for himself despite the building pressure on his shoulders.
He had called a few hours ago and you could tell by his voice he was exhausted. He said he’d be home tonight but late, probably in the middle of the night. For your sanity you attempted to stay up just wanting to see him walk through the door would help you rest easier.
Easier said than done though because you had fallen asleep on the couch the TV illuminating the light on Peter's face as he gently woke you. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust and when you finally did you noticed the wounds scattered across his face, nothing severe but you knew things didn’t go as smoothly as you had hoped they would for him. “Oh Peter,” You say, reaching up cupping the side of his cheek. He was resting on the couch with you, his forehead pressed into yours as his eyes closed. You knew he rested better when you were around. Sometimes you swore he was nocturnal but other times you looked over mid-movie and he was pressed up against you asleep.
“It’s nothing,” He assures you. “I've had worse,” He admits and you both knew he was right. His eyes flutter open and he looks at you, his eyes soft, delicate like as he looked at you. He pushed his body forward, his lips meeting yours, nothing but a chaste kiss to give you both some comfort.
When you pulled away it wasn’t a moment later his hand rested along your jaw pulling you back in. The kiss had a little more to it this time, not as innocent as the first. You didn’t pull away until you heard the sharp intake of his breath when he pushed himself to be on top of you, “What?” You ask him.
He sighs, pulling himself off of you carefully, “My rib,” He says his eyes are squinting in pain as he tries to correct his position.
You move forward with your hands gently pulling at the bottom of his shirt, “I think you should take me to dinner first,” He says with a slight smile on his face.
You roll your eyes and laugh continuing to lift his shift, “Peter,” You sigh, seeing the blood dripping from a cut. It wasn’t deep enough to need stitches but it needed to be cleaned up. “Can you take it off? I’ll go grab some bandages,” You say pushing off the couch to stand.
It was one quick movement for him to peel off his shirt displaying his toned torso. “Y/N,” Peter said, smiling up at you. “You gonna go get it?” He asks and you felt yourself hold back a smile realizing he had caught your gaze.
“Smart ass,” You mumble, turning away from him. You went to the bathroom grabbing everything you needed and walked back in the living room. Peter leaned back against the couch, his head resting and his eyes closed. When he heard the floor creak he glanced up his eyes watching you as you walked back over toward him. “You’re gonna hate this,” You admit to him as you sit down getting the bottle of alcohol out.
You concentrated the next few minutes cleaning up the wound on his abdomen, and then moving up to his face to help clean the peppered cuts along his neck and jaw. “I hate not knowing this is happening to you.” You tell him and he winced at the contact from the alcohol. “I hate not knowing your hurt when you're away.”
His hand reaches up and clasps your wrist, “I know.” He says gently. “The only thing I'm thinking about is coming back home to you,” He says.
Your face grew into the softest expression as you stared at him in awe. Peter was always so reassuring and he always seemed to know what you needed to hear. “You better,” You say sniffling.
“You know I think you like bandaging me up anyway gives you an excuse to gawk.” You gently push his shoulder with your hand smiling at him. “It’s okay you can, I sure do.”
You raise an eyebrow at him, “Oh you do?” You say leaning on closer to him, your faces only inches apart.
That was all it took for him to pull you in, his hand slipping behind your neck as he pulled you in. The kiss was innocent enough at first and then it began to become more feverish. You reach a hand up running through his hair and his hand runs along the lower part of your back. He tugs you gently as if to tell you what he wanted and you slide your leg over straddling him.
“Peter,” You say, pulling away from the kiss. Peter just pulled you back in and you seemingly melted into another kiss just as quickly as he did. “Peter,” You pull back again.
“Hmm,” He mumbles as you pull away.
“Whatever you do, just always try and come home okay?” You ask him. His gaze softened slightly as he realized what you were saying. “Just try I know it’s the job but-“ You begin to scramble your words.
“Y/N,” He cuts you off his thumb running circles at your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. “I’m always gonna try and get home to you okay?” He says. “Always.”
“Okay,” You say back to him. “But for now how about you make it up to me for all the worrying I do?” You say and he grins and you swear he was going to kill you with his smile.
“Yes ma'am,” He says not wasting a second pulling you back in for another kiss.
———-
Sorry for any typos! Didn’t proof read!
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Note
I just randomly thought about modern au where the Sully family moves into a new house and Spider is a ghost there. Tuk sees him first and everyone thinks he is her imaginary friend and then the other kids see him too. :(
Okay but I fucking lOVE friendly haunting shit. It's literally my favorite thing. The Sully's move into a new house and all of a sudden, the dishes are put away during the night. Someone is putting Jake's slippers on the vent to warm them up for him in the morning. Neytiri's favorite mug for tea is always waiting for her, and Kiri's plants never need to be watered. Jake and the boys are fREAKED THE FUCK OUT, and Tuk is determined to figure out what's going on, but Kiri is entirely unbothered and Neytiri is very religious and believes in spirits and an afterlife. She just says a little spirit was forgotten here and needs a little TLC. Tuk isn't sure what TLC means exactly for a ghost, so she starts leaving out cookies and glasses of water like the ghost is a skittish animal. The ghost responds with flowers from the garden, and little pennies from deep in the couch cushions. They don't fully get into things until Tuk brings home the whiteboard she swiped from school they did math equations on. Then they start having full conversations, introducing themselves and playing tik tac toe. By the end of the day Jake and the other kids come back from school to find Neytiri and Tuk and a disembodied paint brush painting one wall in each room with chalk board paint so they can "talk to Spider even if the power goes out and he can't type on someone's phone." Jake takes a full hour before he's convinced that the typed messages being read aloud by Neytiri's phone weren't planted there by Lo'ak and Kiri as an elaborate prank.
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imashoe69420 · 1 year
Note
Hey! Can I request a rise!Donnie or rise!Raph x fem!reader with a reader who is usually very loud and optimistic but has gotten depressed recently due to a boarder-line traumatizing ex attempting to make contact with them at their workplace?
Omg so specific lol and scary
I will try my best! :)
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All In Your Head
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Rise!Donnie X Fem!Reader
Prompt: Your ex shows up to your job, putting you on edge for the rest of the night.
Pronouns: Feminine (she/her)
Relationship: Dating (not official)
Timeline: Post!Movie
Warnings ⚠️: Angst, mentions of abuse, mentions of mental illness
===================================
You were never good at dating. In fact, you only had one boyfriend in your life, and that only lasted for a few months. But, god, was it one of the worst experiences of your life.
During your time together, your ex-partner was a complete control freak. They never put a hand on you, but the mental manipulation and serial cheating they put you through almost pushed you to the edge.
Often, they made you feel crazy like you couldn’t trust your own self. Your ex had no ability to take responsibility for their actions, so everything was your fault. Obviously you hid their keys when they were in a rush. You obviously wanted to break up when you were hanging out with your friends; you were excluding them.
They would constantly have you thinking you’re the worst girlfriend ever as if you did all those things your ex accused you of.
Eventually, they confessed to you that they were no longer in love with you. They had found someone else and wanted to be with them, not you.
The breakup caused you to slip into a month long depression. You didn’t go out with your friends anymore. You didn’t talk to your parents or siblings. All you did was lie in your bed watching overrated TLC shows.
Gradually, you became your normal boisterous self. Your worried loved ones finally felt some relief as you started hanging out with them regularly, talking, laughing, and extroverted as usual.
You’d also met someone else. Donnie.
Unlike your ex, Donnie cared about you. He always wanted you to be safe, especially since him and his brothers had several enemies and you weren’t equipped to fight any of them off. Sure he could come off as a bit aloof, but you knew he never had the intention to hurt your feelings. He just had trouble understanding certain emotions.
That was better than anything your ex put you through.
•••
You tap away at your phone, texting Donnie that you’d be at your apartment soon. Your boss had basically forced you to take the night shift at the dumpling restaurant even though you had school in the morning. Whatever. Fuck it. You’re graduating soon anyways.
The scientist soon FaceTimed you, which he often did and demanded for you to stay on it until you locked the doors.
“You’re lucky my manager doesn’t care if we’re on our phones or not.” You giggled as soon as Donnie’s face popped up on the screen.
The purple clad turtle shrugged lazily, leaning back in the rolling chair he was sat in. “They’ll have to deal with it either way. Making sure you get home safe is a priority for me.”
Your heart nearly leaped out of your throat when he’d said that so nonchalantly. “Aw, my knight in shining armor.”
“Hardly.” Donnie spoke firmly with a deadpan expression. “I like to think of myself as the literary Bad Boy archetype: a social outcast going against the grain in the name of science.”
With a shrug, you placed the phone on the counter, propping the device up on your bag. “Eh, I’d say you’re more of The Outlaw.”
His drawn-on eyebrows furrowed. “You think I’m ‘potentially criminal’?”
“You remember talking to me about that weird crystal you stole from Draxum?” You smirked at him as you picked the phone back up and ambled over to the front doors to lock them.
Donnie hummed to himself before raising an eyebrow. “Touché.”
After locking the doors, you turned around to gather your belongings. You angle the phone up, facing you at eye level.
“Okay, I’m almost done. Just gotta…” your words trail off as Donnie had leaned closer towards the screen, a concerned yet curious expression adorning his features. “What…?”
“Who’s that behind you? At the door.”
A cold sweat soon overtook your body. Donnie would never mess around with you like that.
Instead of turning around, you gazed at your reflection in the phone. What you saw made you drop the device and press your hands against your lips.
It was your ex.
“(Y/N)? (Y/N), what happened? (Y/N)!” Donnie’s voice was laced with worry.
Without replying to him, you scooped your phone off the floor and ran into the back where your manager, Collin, was counting drawer.
When he saw you shivering with your back pressed against the door, he instantly stood up. “(Y/N), what happened? Are you all right?”
“I-I—” you stuttered heavily. “Someone’s… someone’s at the door…”
Collin cocked an eyebrow as he gently pushed you aside and opened the door. He’s silent for a few seconds before shutting the door, shrugging while doing so. “I don’t see anybody. Do you want me to walk you home anyways?”
You immediately nodded, grabbing your stuff as you waited for Collin to finish counting drawer.
• • •
At your apartment, you remain on FaceTime with Donnie. He had been interrogating you for like fifteen minutes: “who was that?”, “why did Collin have to walk you back?”, “Was it a supervillain?”. On and on.
“Donnie, please just relax.” Your voice shook slightly. “It wasn’t anybody you know.”
Right after that statement, there’s a loud pounding at your bedroom window. You dart your eyes over to it, but your fears are instantly nullified.
You sighed deeply as you slid the glass open to allowed the purple clad turtle to enter your room. “God, you scared the shit outta me.”
He shut the window behind him before surveying your empty Red Bull can littered room, the fixing his gaze onto you. “What did you mean by ‘it’s not anybody I know’?”
You felt your stomach drop as he reminded you of work’s events. “Donnie, I duwanna talk about it right now. Just know that that person is awful.”
The turtle’s eyebrows furrowed. You didn’t normally talk like this. If anything, you would say some sort of quip or reference to American Literature. Something his younger twin would say. But now you just seemed shaky and afraid of something he didn’t understand. And that bothered him. But nonetheless, he didn’t like seeing you upset.
Donnie exhaled. “Okay, fine.”
The two of you sat in a comfortable silence—both you and Donnie tapping away on your phones—for several minutes before you made a proposition.
“Can you… do you think you could maybe… stay over?” I’d been a few months since he stayed over the whole night. Often, the scientist would say that he had projects to work on or a mission to go on or something like that.
He shrugged lazily with a slight smile on his face. “I suppose so if that’ll make you feel better.”
Your sigh of relief causes Donnie to question your behavior. “It’s just… you usually have something to do instead.”
The purple clad turtle hummed to himself. “Well, I can tell you’re afraid of that person at your job, and now you’re afraid to be by yourself. And I think you’re a little more important to me than a project that isn’t even half way off the ground.”
You weren’t sure if Donnie fully understood how much that meant to you: to put off a project just because your ex decided to show up to your job out of nowhere and fuck up your entire night. All you knew is that he was definitely 10x better than your ex.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author’s Note: this fanfic is kinda bad but I’ve been sick for like 3 days so that’s why I haven’t been posting 😭 but I’ll try my best to get all the requests out.
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bestbirdlawyer · 2 months
Text
a really super long and self indulgent list of my own modern day adult losers club headcanons.
Beverly
-5’4, always wearing jewelry but sometimes she’ll leave the same stuff on for the whole week, her nail polish chips too often but Richie says it ‘looks kinda rad’
-was the Jigsaw puppet for Halloween last year since they all went as horror movie characters. she looked great, she got a tricycle.
-loves to watch TLC, ghost adventures, shitty TV like that, HATES glee
-will only be in the passengers seat if she can pick the music unless they’re all in the car
-changes into comfy clothes AS SOON as she gets home
-bought a vape once with Stan and Richie and then threw it out the window. She missed it and went back to get it but it was gone so she decided it was probably for the best.
-whenever she gets a haircut she goes in and fixes it herself to how she likes it
-picks a different color every time she’s asked her favorite color
-gets drunk with exclusively Eddie and Stan like, a lot.
Mike
-6’2, shops at Old Navy and gets a headache every time because he smells all the colognes before looking at clothes
-was Micheal Myers last year for Halloween because his name is Mike. Left his mask at Stan’s house, it scared the shit out of Stan when he found it.
-still plays Pokémon go
-needs to stop buying random cool things on eBay
-always taking videos
-likes to be the one to go pick up food whenever they order something, goes on a side quest with whoever comes with him
-still has a landline phone at his house
-Beverly calls him when her, Stan, and Eddie need a ride because they’ve gotten too drunk. He’s just the best option. She knows he’s probably hanging out with Ben anyways.
-always brings one of those heating canteen things with warm coffee to the function
-talks to himself when he’s drunk
Eddie
-5’8 but he says he’s 5’9, takes his work clothes very seriously
-was Patrick Bateman last Halloween because Beverly convinced him he would look good
-oldest of the group
-did that trend where you put your arms through the arm holes in someone else’s shirt with Richie and proceeded to slap him in the face. not that hard.
-calls Stan ‘Stanley’ more often than just Stan, but he says it so fast it kind of just sounds like ‘Staley’
-at Christmas time he constantly tells everyone that George Michael died on Christmas and “why are we still playing ‘Last Christmas’??” but he likes the song.
-will sing karaoke when he’s drunk
-power bottom
-sometimes he’ll get really into a bit with Richie and it gets to a point where nobody else knows what they’re talking about
-goes on runs with Ben but he needs earbuds in while he’s running, also sings Backstreet Boys with Ben secretly
-sends multiple gifs to the group chat
Ben
-5’11, has had the same pairs of jeans for way too long and Beverly tries to get him new ones but they’re just not as comfortable
-was Jason from Friday the 13th for Halloween last year because he pretty much just needed to use his own old clothes and a mask
-asks Stan what laundry detergent he uses because he smells good
-really likes Chic Fil A but he won’t go because he heard they’re homophobic. One time Richie asked if he wanted to go and he was like YES I WILL GO ITS OKAY IF I GO WITH YOU and Richie had no idea what he meant.
-talks to Eddie on their runs even though Eddie has earbuds in, but it’s okay because Eddie will sing to the Backstreet Boys with him later
-likes glee
-still uses wii fit until Beverly tells him to stop because he gets too into it
-drinks Mai Tais, first to say ‘I love you guys’ when they’re drunk
-he and Richie prank call Bill from Mikes landline phone all the time
-insisted that they all go see the Cocaine Bear movie in theatres
Stan
-6’, hangs his sweaters to dry so they don’t shrink
-just put a purge mask on for Halloween last year
-watches Sunday Morning
-orchestrated a zoom movie night function for everyone
-secretly has a camera on his front door, sometimes he catches everybody doing dumb shit out there
-sometimes he’ll dryly say something to Richie that is so blatantly untrue that it’s fucking hilarious. Like “oh man it’s raining. I came here on my Segway so I have to get going, see you later”
-constantly uses online ordering for food because he wants to be specific and he knows it’s a hassle for the employees, he won’t ask if he has to do it to their face
-responds with 👍 way too much
-tries to convince Ben to ask Richie if it’s okay to go to Chic Fil A because he thinks it would be funny
-plays words with friends
-drunkenly talks to Mike when Mike is drunkenly talking to himself. like “oh wow that’s really cool Mikey” until Mike notices.
Richie
-6’4 (fuck you I like huge Richie. Mikes 6’4 in 2019 movie and Richie is 6’2 in it so I just swapped their heights), wears the shirts from icarly that say the most random shit like “church pants” or “my cheese my rules”
-was Beetlejuice for Halloween last year, got green hand prints everywhere because he put green hairspray shit on. Stan made him clean them. He purposely hid Mikes mask to scare Stan.
-asks for the videos that Mike takes so he can edit everyone to say things they didn’t say. Eddie falls for it sometimes.
-wears sunglasses over his glasses when he’s drunk, takes over when Eddie has stopped singing karaoke and pretends he’s hosting an award show with only the losers present
-has a note in his phone that says: “baby names: Crunch, Sam Brarro, Cornwallace, Mozier, Red Rover, Thumb, Djasper Probincrux III, Shant, Brock Lee…”
-can solve a rubix cube really fast
-went back and got the vape before Beverly could then one day it falls out of his pocket while they watch TLC together
-sends Mike cool shit to buy off eBay
-constantly makes jokes that Eddie is into younger guys (because Eddie is the oldest)
Bill
-5’10, needs to stop wearing flannels
-wore a shark outfit for Halloween and put some of the fake blood that Eddie used for his costume on it. He was the shark from Jaws.
-plays Pokémon go with Mike, words with friends with Stan, and Wii Fit with Ben
-says “I actually kinda like that one” when Richie reads his baby name list
-listens to The Final Countdown when he needs a pep talk
-has a group chat for himself, Richie, Ben and Mike to hangout when Bev, Stan and Eddie go out.
-says that the ending of every movie sucks because he’s secretly projecting, one time he was confronted outside of a movie theatre by some film bros
-asks Beverly to send him the songs that she plays in the car
-considers himself the group leader, secretly considers Richie to be the number two
-even though Ben told him about the prank calls, and they’re devising a plan to scare the shit out of Richie
-pulls up random shit that he thinks is funny on his phone when he’s drunk
-is the one to carry a communal backpack whenever everyone goes to an amusement park or some big place
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slvttyplum · 5 months
Text
。・:*˚:✧。 Scrub | Toji Fushiguro
one day i’ll stop shitting on him, but today ain’t that day
SYNOPSIS: you’re walking home from a long day at work until a man calls out for you.
CONTENTS: Catcalling, pressuring, second hand embarrassment, broke toji
INSPIRED BY: No Scrubs, TLC
you just got off work, and your phone is blowing up from your office manager. mad you didn’t make an effort to come to the office bbq.
honestly… you didn’t give two shits; you were tired and just wanted to lay down. your heels clicked down the concrete floor as the music in your headphones boomed.
you could feel your mood changing as the lyrics slipped inside your ears.
“aye.” you ignore the greeting, assuming it’s not for you. you stop at the intersection, pressing the button to let you pass.
“aye yo!” you hear again, and you quickly turn your head, then back ahead of you.
now you thought you were going crazy.
the machine beeps, and as you quickly walk across the street, a car zooms past you, startling you.
you hop onto the other side of the street, continuing to walk.
“aye you! i know you heard me!” now this time you really heard it, so you grab one headphone, take it off, and turn around.
a green car was driving along the side of you with an older man sticking his head out the window and his arm hanging.
“there we go, how you doing?” you scrunch your face in disgust, ignoring him and continuing to walk.
shit this can’t be happening, not now. you just wanted to go home.
“you look good as fuck; I like the way you look in those pants." you start walking faster, ignoring him.
you can see the car from your peripheral still going at the same speed as you’re walking. you couldn’t run; if you did, then everyone would look at you weird.
but the few pedestrians walking past already think you’re weird because of this creepy ass guy yelling at you from his car... or you think that’s his car.
you can’t win by losing.
“mm i love the way that ass sits in them, damn.” you clench your fist, turning and stopping.
“can you please stop?” you scream and shout at the man.
he laughs, banging on the door. his arm was hanging out of his maniacal laughter, which gave you the creeps. honestly y/n what the hell were you doing? weren’t you taught not to talk to strangers?
focus on your goal. home.
you shake your head while continuing to walk, that didn’t stop the car from following you.
you turn your head slightly, trying to get a good look at the man, just in case something happens. should you call the police? should you alert someone on the street that two strange men are following you?
“a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be walking the streets like that; come on.” the man screams, you flinch, and you immediately turn into the first store you see.
the words that spilled out of his mouth were disgusting, and you refused to put up with them.
you scan your eyes around the shop, realizing it’s a scarf shop.
“nice.” you breathe out. As you step deeper inside, walking towards the back, your heart settles down as your worries begin to fade.
“hey baby," you hear from behind you, that same voice sending shivers down your spine. you quickly turned around, and there stood the man.
“what do you want from me?" you yell out, stepping back. he smiles, scratching the back of his neck.
“well… you.” you squinted your eyes, backing into the register; no one was attending.
quickly turning around your eye toward the “ring me for assistance!” bell, and you quickly slam on it, repeatedly ringing the hell out of it.
you turn to see if he’s still standing behind you, and yes, yes, he is, but now with a frown.
someone comes out the back looking frazzled, and you clear your throat, practically screaming.
“this man is following me!” you yell, and the cashier looks at you, then looks at the man, who now has a smile plastered on his face.
you grip your purse, sighing, and the cashier furrows his eyebrows, reaching for the phone before pausing.
“wait, did YOU call the police?” you stand there frozen, knowing how stupid you’re going to sound when you say no.
“no, no i did not. i didn’t know this motherfucker would follow me inside a store.”
the cashier stands frozen for a moment before grabbing the phone off the hook.
“sir i advise you to leave before i call the police.” the cashier says it in monotone, and you nod in agreement as the man in front of you scoffs, knowing his attempts were on the ground.
he turns around and walks out, but not before yelling something at you: “stupid bitch, that’s your loss.”
you flinch at his words, rolling your eyes.
a relived sigh flows out of your mouth before you clench your shirt in relief.
the sound of a phone slamming interrupts your thoughts. the cashier is standing there with their arms folded and their eyes furrowed.
“you need to leave; you’re interrupting business with your nonsense.”
you straighten yourself back up and look around.
"It's empty in here, though?" you question confused. the cashier points to the door in silence, and you take that to just go.
you wave off the cashier, thanking them.
the streets were clear of any green cars and a creepy man, at least that you know of.
you were definitely going to start saving for a car.
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cosmiles · 8 months
Text
𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐖
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➢ cheating on your boyfriend with the mha boys
note: i blame tlc for this idea
characters: midoriya, katsuki, todoroki, monoma
content: angst, toxic reader, toxic monoma, infidelity, established relationship
words: 0.4k
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Izuku Midoriya has no idea he's the other man. He too wrapped around your finger to even realize the inconsistencies in your relationship. Like why can't he meet your parents? Or why all of your dates are in his apartment? He will always take up for you in front of his friends, blindly repeating your sorry behind excuses back to them. You better not let him find out or you'll be the reason he never loves again.
Bakugo Katsuki doesn't realize in the beginning until things stop making sense. Sure, he's a private person, but you're straight-up secretive. Always having your phone turned away from everyone's line of vision and constantly looking over your shoulder makes him paranoid that someone's trying to hurt you. Imagine his surprise when he silently follows you home one day to see you being greeted with a kiss by an unknown man. Seething, he confronts the both of you only to be met with an equally angry yet confused man who introduces himself as your boyfriend. Your tears can't save you now as both men walk out of your life. 
Shoto Todoroki knows but tries to ignore it. As much as it hurts, he knows it's for the best. This is the one stable relationship in his life, other than his friends. How is he supposed to throw it away, knowing this may never happen to him again? So, he holds his tongue and hopes none of his friends ever find out or he'll never hear the end of it. 
Neito Monoma knows and loves it. Of course, you would be in love with him, who wouldn't? And the fact that you still have a boyfriend during this feeds his ego. He brags to his friends about it til they get tired of the toxicity. But it never bothers him as he knows that your man will never treat you the way he does. And don't bother ever getting in a fight with him, otherwise, he might have to pay your dear 'ole boyfriend a house visit.
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➢ thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed and don't forget that Jesus loves you, to drink water, eat some food, and get some rest :))
➢ taglist: 🫧
@megurulvr @pnkweb @mypimpademia
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stupidlovergirl · 10 months
Text
Human TV I Think They'd Watch
All the Bros and Dateables
Dev Notes:I have been watching Kitchen Nightmares while writing and how I think Barbatos might like it,, and then it lead to what human world TV they might like,,, maybe spent a little to much time on it instead of working on WIPs
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Lucifer
Really likes old people TV
He watches things like How It’s Made, National Geographic documentaries, if he wants a little laugh those shows about “aliens”. Skin Walker Ranch is his dirty little side piece TV show
He just enjoys educational shows because they are easy to tune out
Really loves Soap Operas. Young and the Restless and General Hospital are kept up with religiously(hah). He, Diavolo, and Barbatos usually watch it. Dia really likes it and Barbatos watches when working with Dia second hand while doing work. He latched on after watching it in the background a few times.
Also, just the news. Mans will put on a 24 hour news station and will keep it on for like, 5 days. 
Mammon
He watches Harrison Porter, so give him the joy that is Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit.
Would also enjoy the Spiderwick Chronicles movie since he doesn’t know how bad it was compared to the books
Just a big fantasy fan honestly. Loves them.
On another note, he also loves trashy reality TV and News. The only one who beats out his love for celebrity gossip is Asmo. When he is putting on a TV show to go brain dead to its something from TLC, like 90 Day Fiance, I Love a Mama’s Boy, etc. 
He watches the Kentucky Derby, bets on it a lot (loses a lot too)
His dirty secret show/movies are Hallmark movies. He watches them when he won’t get caught. Hopeless romantic nerd (Affectionate)
Leviathan
You’re joking
You’re joking right?
Anime or DIE!!! (/hj)
Also really popular fantasy movies based on books. He will rip them to shreds when you watch them. Can be fun if you read the books, annoying if you haven’t.
Has a soft spot for magical girl animes, obvi
There isn’t really much to elaborate on, half of his personality is anime and nerd stuff.
Just a few favorites I think he might have with no explanation:
Tokyo Mew Mew, Yugi-Oh, Death Note, Naruto, Angel Beats, Lucky Star, Soul Eater, Watamote, Saint Tail, and Cowboy Bebop
Satan
King of detective shows
He loves trying to find them out
It is canon he loves the Devildom equivalent of Midsomer Murders, so just show him that too
I think he would like Forensic Files too.
Also, thriller movies. And psychological horror movies.
He loves them, he typically can predict an ending, but it's nice to see how they write out how the characters themselves find out
Asmo
Trashy reality TV!!!!!
He and Mammon watch 90 Day and Mama's boy and talk shit about them.
Loves Maury, Jerry Springer (rip my king), Parent Court when he's feeling a little frisky
Next Top Model and RuPaul's Drag Race. It's about the DRAMA! The OUTFITS!
Watched part of Euphoria but honestly? Found it mid. Sorry but he just couldn't understand the hype after the writing started to plummet.
Has watched Jersey Shore, will not elaborate on his opinion.
Tbh, he also doesn't really watch much because he feels like he has better things to do with his time, he only watches it for Brotherly Bonding, and for background noise
Beel
Haha, big guy hardly watches TV
Watches workout videos primarily
He likes learning new work out and dietary things
Has been banned from watching any type of food shows. Sorry Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives.
Will participate in movie night, primarily for food, buhe does pay attention
Honestly just watches whatever someone else typically puts on with no complaint
Belphie
Much like his twin, doesn't typically seek out TV watching.
Much easier to watch on his phone
He does enjoy satisfying videos
Watches Rug cleaning videos, silly ASMR videos, Video essays when he can't sleep and gets curious. Loves obscure media and icebergs.
The essays are about the only thing that goes on the TV
Sorry but he just doesn't care much.
Will also participate in movie night, almost always falls asleep. Still can tell you the entire plot of the film.
On a very rare occasion will watch South Park. Will not elaborate on this one.
Solomon
Loves old TV shows to some newer ones
I Love Lucy, The Twilight Zone, The Muppet Show
I cant really explain the Muppet Show, but I know its true, it is in my bones
Honestly loves older sitcoms. They just hit different.
Can I mention I Dreamed a Genie and Bewitched? Classics in his eyes. Would fight to the death for them
Will make a off hand comment on how he doesn't feel like TV is the same anymore
Watches reality TV in the background when Asmo turns it on when he lounges in either one of their rooms
I feel like I just can't explain most of these, but they are the truth in my heart and that is enough
Simeon
Haha...What?
Watches whatever Luke or Solomon puts on or whatever someone else would suggest
He has a preference for books most of the time I feel like. Just goes with the flow
Just suggest something and he'll put it up for the next movie night when it's his choice
I really can't think of one he would pick oops.
Barbatos
He watches whatever Diavolo puts on in the background. Likes the Soap Operas some times, gets a little annoyed with anime voices when he has a migraine.
Kitchen Nightmares and Hell's Kitchen just hits right for him. Loves the insults
He doesn't much watch TV either though. Prefers audio books since they are easier to carry around
You essentially have to beg to watch TV with him, he's a busy butler ya'know?
Diavolo
KING OF FLEXIBILITY
Has watched all of it, and will continue to do so.
Has a special place for Soap Operas and Ruri-Chan
Seen all the classics, the new block busters, all of it
Honestly you wonder how he gets the time?
He really likes consuming stuff, so he does it when he is working on paper work he puts on the subtitles and turning the audio on low and going HAM
Couldn't be me, I would get distracted
For the most part he's watched it all, and what he hasn't is on his to watch list. He just likes talking to his friends about it :)
Luke
GREAT! BRITISH! BAKE! OFF!
He likes seeing the different foods
It inspires him so much, it's so cute watching his eyes sparkle as he sees something he likes and he writes it down on his phone
Also, he really likes watching Bluey. He lets Simeon and Solomon, and Barbatos found out (because he knows everything), but would DIE if anyone else found out
Also likes early 80's and bad CG horror movies. Kid literally laughs and Mammon is losing his mind next to him. I think because of the bad effects it makes it more tolerable.
Killer Klowns from Outer Space slaps man what can the kid say?
I think I'm projecting hard onto him,, but he's my son so it doesn't matter
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icanseethefuture333 · 6 months
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Can I ask you to do a little reading on Chris evans and Ana de armas bond? How they saw each other in the beginning when they first worked together in knives out and how they see each other now, what’s their bond like, what do they think of their current correspondent partners. Thank you angel !
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Chris Evan's first impression of Ana De Armas:
For Chris' first impressions of Ana, he could of saw her as the embodiment of Taurus characteristics: Serene, down to earth, and tenacious. Very feminine and poised. It could of been obvious to him as well she was a foreigner and that peaked his interest? Chris wanted to learn more about her culture and what her traditions were. "You're breaking my heart here." I believe he sees her beauty and charm as something that would potentially hurt him. Or, this could mean he asked her out and she rejected him.
Channeled song:
Don't Go Breaking My Heart by Elton John & Kiki Dee
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Ana De Armas' first impression of Chris Evans:
"He is always surrounded by beautiful and luxurious women". Ana could see Chris as someone who is a playboy - Wealthy, flirtatious, and attractive. (NSFW) She could of heard things about his sex life or was curious about it 😭? She is sexually attracted to him. Ana finds Chris to be very funny as well. She finds his optimism, good sense of humor, and sunny disposition cute, charming, and infectious. She also finds him to be childish.
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Current thoughts of each other:
Left is Chris. Center is their shared thoughts. Right is Ana.
So obviously... there is romantic tension between them. Chris has been trying for a while now for this relationship to happen, but Ana is just not interested. She is a wish fulfillment for him, is he manifesting her? Seems so. Ana is more focused on her career and accomplishing her goals. She sees Chris as someone who's popular and successful, but she is unsure if this is the energy she wants to be around long term. "I don't want people to say I am famous because of him, I wish to make my own success, I will not let a man take that away from me." Good for Ana, honestly 😳. Xenophobia and misogyny in the entertainment industry are also the major factors as to why she's rejecting Chris. Ana doesn't want to be accused of "sleeping her way to the top", she feels that will continue a harmful stereotypes/beliefs about hispanic/latina women. This is something Chris is not understanding and acting naive to because of his privileges. He is just focusing more on the fact he wants to be with her vs the concerns she has. "If we're happy then who cares what other people think?"
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Their opinions about each other's partners:
Left is Chris. Center is their shared thoughts. Right is Ana.
"You chose him over me?!" Chris is jealous of Ana's partner. He is very opinionated about their relationship honestly, so I will just leave it at that 💀. He feels her partner is in the way.
Something sneaky is afoot... I'm getting a vision of a phone, they could be send each other like late night texts? There is a sense of not wanting to get caught. I'm getting Chris is the one overall who is reaching out to her and Ana is not having it. She doesn't wish to reveal her feelings to him. Ana doesn't like the idea of being vulnerable. There goes that Taurus energy lol. She is very stubborn. "Why would I care about his partner? I have a job to do". Ana is too busy focusing on her bag then worrying about what that man does. This could also mean she's using work as a way to avoid reality.
Channeled songs:
Creep by TLC
On The Hotline by Pretty Ricky
The Other Woman by Lana Del Rey
She Works Hard For The Money by Donna Summer
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