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rcmclachlan · 2 days

Note

Heard this was the place to come if we wanted to know about pregnant Buck talking to the baby about the station tasks 🤔

@dadvans is a dirty enabler. He's also the one who came up with the idea of Buck calling the kid "probie" fyi

When Tommy walks into the 118, it doesn't feel quite like a homecoming, but when Bobby catches sight of him and smiles as though Tommy's presence isn't just welcome, but expected, something inside him relaxes as though it were twenty years ago and he's about to walk up the stairs to sit down for another incredible family dinner.

"You guys get called to the thing with the Aon?" Grinning, he shakes Bobby's proffered hand as a matter of course, and part of him can't help but glow under Bobby's approving gaze.

It feels a bit like he's cheating on Captain Salazar, who took Tommy under her wing the second he got to Harbor and has given him free rein to do whatever he damn well pleases when he's in the air, but she doesn't cultivate the familial aura that cleaves to Bobby like a shadow. He likes and respects the hell out of her, but he probably wouldn't steal a helicopter and fly into a hurricane for her.

Some people were meant to be parents; Bobby Nash is definitely one of them. Tommy's working on it.

Bobby gives a sporting but ineffective swipe at the soot smeared across his forehead with his wrist. "Normally falling space junk knocking over a skyscraper would take the cake, but since twenty million bees weren't released into the city, I'm calling it a ho-hum sort of day."

There's something severely wrong with them that the third-tallest building in LA breaking in half like a Kit Kat Bar doesn't rank above bees, but Tommy had to fly through that shit storm, so he can't disagree. The next person who says 'bee-nado' is getting thrown off the Santa Monica pier.

Speaking of. Tommy throws a quick glance at the three engines parked in their usual spots in the hopes of catching a glimpse of movement, and he's either losing his touch or never had it to begin with, because he's clocked immediately.

Bobby gives him a knowing look.

Caught, Tommy chuckles. "At the risk of sounding patronizing, how much did he overdo it?"

"Buck didn't mind being on winch and hose duty," Bobby says wryly. At Tommy's dubious look, he adds, "Okay, he did try to sneak into the thick of it once or twice, but he complained only a little when I threatened to hogtie him and chuck him in the back of the ambulance."

"Only a little? That's unlike him." Tommy can perfectly picture the mulish pout on Evan's ridiculous lips because someone forbade him from running into a building that was hanging at a 240° angle.

"Hen may have also hinted that she'd break out The Powerpoint again if he didn't stop whining," Bobby admits. The capital letters are audible.

Tommy gives a low whistle. "That was diabolical of her."

He unfortunately hadn't been there when Hen presented You're Living For Two: A Comprehensive List of Things Buck Will Avoid for the Next 8 Months or Hen Will Have Him Committed (With A Foreword Written By Maddie Han) to Evan and the rest of the 118, but Eddie had texted Tommy throughout the whole thing like he was live tweeting a football game. At slide 40, which had five charts demonstrating the rates at which acute physical stress increased the risks of miscarriage and low birth weight, Eddie sent him a picture of Evan's cowed expression. Slide 43 ("Deli Meat A No-No"), on the other hand, got him a video of Evan in a heated argument with Hen, Howie, and Bobby about the merits of that.

It ended when Bobby shouted, "It's not just you that you're risking, Buck! Every time you deliberately put yourself into harm's way, you're also risking my grandchild!" and Evan burst into tears and sobbed, "You can't say things like that when you're taking hot dogs away from me!"

When Evan came home that day, he announced that mentioning The PowerPoint—and anything to do with Microsoft in general—was verboten for the next thousand years. Tommy couldn't help but quip, "It looks like you're upset about your family wanting you to carry this pregnancy safely to term. Would you like help? Yes, no, or cancel?"

He was forced to sleep on the couch for three nights. He regrets nothing.

"Where is everyone?" The station is eerily quiet for a day spent trying to get ahead of a falling building.

"Burrito run. Buck volunteered to stay behind. He still getting carsick in traffic?"

"Let's just say we've been putting the emesis bags Howie gave us to very good use. Is he busy?" Tommy lifts the bag in his hand so Bobby can see the grinning face of the Colonel himself. "I come bearing gifts."

Bobby laughs the laugh of a man who knows firsthand that Evan's insatiable cravings for KFC's mashed potatoes are the only thing keeping the lights on at the location on W Pico Boulevard. He gestures past Tommy toward the engines. "Last I saw him, he was giving a class on proper hose maintenance."

"Appreciate it, Bobby," he says and starts heading in that direction.

"Tell him he'd better not be promoting bad coupling habits." Tommy turns around, wide-eyed, but Bobby's already got a hand up to forestall the laughter he must know is inevitable. Bobby's grimacing so hard it looks like he might severe his carotid. "I regretted it the second I said it. Do me a favor and phrase it a little better?"

"I make no promises." Snickering, Tommy turns back to the engines and swings the KFC bag cheerfully as he goes, making a mental note to mention this in the OG 118 group chat. That ought to give Howie enough ammo to last through Christmas.

As he rounds Engine 3, he hears the susurrus of voices, which he expected, but as he gets closer he realizes it's just one voice, which he didn't. He comes to a stop right where the engine's rear strip on the storage compartment ends and ducks behind it a little to try and figure out exactly what he's looking at.

Bobby had said Evan was teaching and Tommy figured that meant he was holding court with the station's two newest recruits, but he's kneeling on the floor and carefully re-rolling a hose while he talks to an audience of precisely zero.

"Now this is called a straight roll," Evan says, voice modulated to be slow and easily understood. It's textbook perfect pacing. Tommy has no clue who it's for. Maybe he's filming a video? "I'm folding the male coupling over and then rolling it to the female coupling, which are unnecessarily gendered terms, but I wasn't in the room when they came up with the names, so."

Tommy's so distracted by how the muscles in Evan's arms strain against the sleeves of his uniform as he methodically rolls the hose that he almost misses what Evan says next.

"Now Daddy wants to do a Dutch roll, because it takes about five seconds and it's hilarious, but Grandpa Bobby would slaughter Daddy if he ever found out. Apparently letting the couplings drag on the ground is the eighth deadly sin." Evan rests back on his shins and pants a little, then pats the planetary curve of his belly with a grin. "Hope you're taking notes, probie. There will be a test."

There are two things in Tommy's life that he will never be able to forget, even if he had a full-frontal lobotomy; even if he wanted to:

The first is the way Evan's shoulders curled inwards as if bracing for a blow while he haltingly apologized about goading Tommy into fucking him after the condom ripped, about how Tommy didn't have to worry because Evan was relieving him of all responsibility, and that he didn't have any expectations because Tommy never asked for this and he hoped someday Tommy would forgive him for keeping what they'd accidentally created together.

Tommy isn't a violent man, but sometimes he fantasizes about going back through Evan's life and beating the shit out of everyone who ever made him feel unwanted, or treated him like a consolation prize. Even in the early days of their relationship, when Tommy's respect for certain boundaries or simple acts of kindness would make Evan visibly recalibrate, Tommy had to stop himself from demanding a list of names. He has one now, and part of him would like nothing more than to start with Evan's parents and work his way down.

The second is the teary, disbelieving grin that broke across Evan's face like a sunrise when the sonographer pressed the ultrasound wand to his belly and the room filled with the jackrabbiting whup-whup-whup sound of their kid's heartbeat. Evan had looked over at him, laughed wetly at the struck-dumb expression Tommy knew he was sporting, and said, "Sounds like the Bell 206."

When he reached out for Tommy, the fluorescent lights had glinted off the engagement band Tommy'd bought like a complete lunatic four months after Evan kissed him in the lobby of First Presbyterian. He'd kept it hidden in his toolbox until three months later, when Evan put on a brave face and tried to let him off the hook.

But he didn't have far to go, because Tommy was already reaching back for him. The metal of the ring was warm where it pressed against his fingers. And if his heart was so full of love and wonder that he cried a little, no one commented on it. Well, Evan did when they got in Tommy's truck after their appointment and then went straight to KFC, but that was to be expected. He'd taken the ribbing like a champ.

Watching Evan—now in the second week of his third trimester, the hem of his shirt fighting for its life where it stretches around his belly—earnestly teaching the kid still cooking inside him about proper hose care, Tommy knows he'll never forget this one either. He's pretty sure his life is going to be one unforgettable moment after another from here on out.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he walks out from behind the engine and gets a hand under Evan's elbow to help him get to his feet. It takes every ounce of his willpower to stand back and let Evan carry the hose over to its compartment and attach it to the main connection site himself. He's learned to grit his teeth and give help only when it's asked for. He has no desire to start up that argument again.

"So?" Tommy happily takes Evan into his arms while Evan happily takes the KFC bag out of his hand. "Is our kid going to graduate from the Academy or wash out completely?"

Evan grins at him. Tommy knows at least 45% of the love in his eyes is reserved for the mashed potatoes. "I'm calling it now: they're gonna be fire chief by the time they're twenty. Youngest in the entire country. What do you think, probie? You up for the challenge?"

Tommy places a hand gently on Evan's belly and immediately feels movement against his palm. Their kid hasn't given Evan a moment's peace since week 15; at any given moment, they're flipping around in there like they're doing zero-gravity training for a space mission. The familiar fluttering feeling makes his heart cramp.

That's their kid in there. They made that.

"I think that's a yes," Tommy murmurs, pressing a kiss to Evan's temple, then hanging there for a moment, breathing him in. Breathing them in. "Love you."

"God, I love you so much, you don't even know," Evan says, cracking open a container with a pleased hum.

Tommy smiles dopily, then reality trickles in. "You're talking to the potatoes, aren't you?"

"Of course not," Evan lies through a mouthful of KFC's finest spuds.

#i've never seen a man who needs to be pregnant more than evan buckley #this was inspired by my ongoing discussion with dadvans about the adventures of preggo!buck and his long-suffering but smitten babydaddy #bucktommy #kinley #tevan #mpreg

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sturnsdarling · 1 day

Text

save a horse...

you and Matt go to a ranch for your anniversary and end up finding an old abandoned barn, taking the perfect opportunity to live your true wild west fantasy.

vibe check: smutty fluff, cowgirl position (obvi), public (kind of) sex

3k words

A/N: it hurts to write my dreams instead of living them. anyways the idea of cowboy!matt makes me feel a bit wobbly in the knees so this is my version of that, this fic is dedicated to the one and only cas (@sturnioz) because she, and I quote, 'loves this shit'

love and cigs, merc

It was yours and Matts year anniversary, you were driving through the South West, Matts hand on your thigh as you drove towards the ranch you had found as a surprise for him.

It was huge, an old family run ranch in the middle of nowhere. Recently, Matt had been on a kick about reconnecting with nature so, with your anniversary coming up you thought a long weekend in a ranch would be perfect for him to live out his cowboy dreams.

When you got there,

the family that rented it out was welcoming and lovely, showing you both the little house you'd be staying in for the weekend. It was an old converted barn, all the old wood work still intact and the furnishings being very on theme for yours and Matts 'wild west' weekend.

It was perfect, and the look on Matts face when he saw the cracks of light seeping through the cracking wood walls made everything worth it.

Once you guys had dropped off your stuff,

you and Matt decided to wander around the grounds and find a nice spot to have a picnic. After a while of walking about and taking photos of the beautiful scenery, you noticed a large tree a little ways walk from where you were, telling Matt it was the perfect spot and he agreed, looping his arm over your shoulder and leading you both to the tree.

When you sat down,

Matt laid down your picnic blanket and told you to sit down, saying he'd get everything ready and that you didn't have to do anything. You complied, watching as he unpacked everything, the bright orange sun illuminating his beautiful face perfectly.

"I can feel you starin' at me, you know" Matt smirked, pulling to plastic wine glasses out the basket followed by a bottle of root beer.

"i'm not staring, i'm admiring" you corrected him.

Matt chuckled, shaking his head and turning to face you, hooking a soft finger under your chin and pulling your head up to him. He pressed a tender kiss on your glossy lips, slotting his mouth between yours perfectly. You let out a satisfied hum into the kiss, relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours.

Matt pulled away and opened the bottle of soda, he held it out to you like a waiter holding wine and made a fancy, silly face, "will this do, your highness" he spoke in a posh English accent.

you giggled, nodding and trying to pull a serious face, "yes, that will do nicely" you mimicked his tone.

Matt chuckled and poured you a cup of soda before pouring his own, holding it out to you to cheers before sitting down next to you on the blanket.

You were facing the horizon, watching as the sun began to set, leaving the sky a hazy orange and pink swirl of colours. You rested your head on Matts shoulder and he turned to place a soft kiss on your hair.

"happy anniversary, beautiful" Matt said, softly.

You lifted your head, resting your chin on his shoulder as he looked down at you, batting your lashes at him as you gazed at him, "happy anniversary, my love"

He smiled, placing a soft kiss on your lips before turning back to face the sunset.

You stayed there for a while, eating, laughing and enjoying each others company. The sun was still setting, and you were laying on Matts chest, peppering soft kisses all over his face as he chuckled beneath you. You were giggling the whole time, loving how he let you shower him with love like you so desperately wanted to twenty four seven. Matt placed his large hands on your hips, flipping you both over so he was on top of you. You giggled at the swift movement, and Matt hovered over you, watching in awe at the way your face lit up when you laughed.

Your giggles subsided, and you looked up to Matt, who's eyes were flitting between yours and your lips. You looked to his plump lips, and bit down on your bottom lip at the sight of him looking at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Matt craned his head down, pressing his lips against yours with a firm hand on your jaw. You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss with a swipe of your tongue against his lip. He accepted your invitation and pressed his warm tongue against yours, absentmindedly grinding his hips down into yours as you hooked one leg around his waist.

Everything was perfect, you were in a beautiful place, with a beautiful boy, making out on a picnic blanket like sneaky teenagers trying to get some alone time in the wild west.

Once the sun had begun to slip under the horizon, you decided to do some more exploring before heading back to where you were staying.

On your adventure, you guys had spotted an old barn, it was falling apart at the seams and looked as if no one had touched it in years.

"we have to go see inside" you said, pulling Matt towards the old barn with your hand in his.

He followed you, letting you lead him town the dry hill towards the large old structure.

You reached the doors, pulling on the old lock slightly as it basically crumbled in your hand. Matt reached above your head, pulling the door open and letting you walk in.

It was like a time capsule, bails of old hay everywhere, old horse riding equipment and a beat up tractor in the middle.

"this is so cool" Matt said, looking around in awe.

You were just looking at him, watching his face light up with every new thing he noticed. You did a full lap of the barn, and didn't take your eyes off him once, just letting him guide you about with his fingers locked between yours.

"y'staring again, baby" He chuckled, turning to face you, placing his hands round your waist and pulling you into him.

you looped your hands around his neck, "admiring" you corrected him again, brushing your lips over his.

Matt pulled you into him, capturing your lips in a kiss that was quick to become desperate. His warm tongue pressed and pushed against yours as your hands found the tangled curls at the back of his head. His hand snuck down to your ass, gripping and squeezing at the flesh over your flowery sundress. Matt walked you backwards towards the bails of hay, laying you down gently on top of them without breaking the kiss.

He laid you down, one hand on your face and the other on your thigh as he looped your leg around his waist. Matt ground his hips down onto yours, pressing his growing cock against your pussy as your dress fell bunched around your waist. You whimpered into the kiss, tugging at Matts hair and pulling him closer into you with your leg.

Matts hand wandered up your leg, pushing your dress further up with his soft hands as his hand edged impossibly close to where the two of you connected. He pressed and kneaded at your skin as he ground his hips down into your core, hard and slowly, chasing his own friction just as much as he was trying to help you chase yours.

You whined into Matts mouth once more, biting down on his lip and bucking your hips into his. Matt chuckled, breaking the kiss and pulling away from you slightly.

"so needy" He muttered, lips still brushing yours.

"you like it when I'm needy" you pretended to sulk, earning a smile from Matt

Matt nodded, quickly pressing his lips to yours once more, "I love it, baby, y'so sexy when you're all desperate f'me" Matt smirked.

You let out a satisfied hum and kissed him again, this time, just after kissing you back for a moment, Matt began to trail is lips down your neck and along your chest, pulling at the bust of your dress with delicate fingers to expose your hard nipple to him. He locked his mouth around it, sucking down before biting it between his teeth, toothing the sting with another warm press of his tongue.

Your back arched into him, your head falling back onto the hay with a small moan. Matt made his way down your body, watching as you arched into his touch, bunching your dress around your hips and coming to eye level with your already soaked folds. Matt groaned at the sight when he saw you weren't wearing any underwear, his mind reeling at the thought of you not wearing any all day.

Your folds glistened for him, and he swiped a gentle finger over your core, earning a soft moan from your lips as you bucked your hips, chasing the feeling.

"so pretty and perfect" Matt uttered, his breath hot over your pussy as he edged impossibly close.

He wanted to tease you, he really did, but the sight of you like this for him, in a pretty sundress, spread open in an old barn with cowgirl boots on and no underwear, Matt was desperate to taste you.

Matt pressed a soft kiss against your slick folds, brushing his thumb over your puffy clit as his tongue dipped into your sopping hole. Your hands found his hair, pressing gentle fingers into his scalp as he began to lap at your pussy.

A soft, breathy moan left your lips, your legs coming to hang over his shoulders, boots wrapped behind his head as he groaned at the taste of you on his tongue.

"fuck, Matt, that feels so good" you moaned, head rolling on its hinge as your eyes fluttered shut.

Matt hummed in response, the vibrations making you clench around nothing as he continued to lap and kiss at your pussy, his nose brushing against your clit periodically, sending bouts of shivers up your spine every time.

It was blissful, his slow pace making your whole body tingle as you moaned his name, unable to stop the noises that left your mouth. He was bringing you to eye watering orgasm with just his mouth, working you so slow and tenderly, his steady pace making your stomach tense and your legs tighten around his head. You were a whimpering mess, moaning his name over and over again as you approached your high on his tongue.

it was as if Matt had a sixth sense that was tuned into your body, knowing exactly when you were going to cum without having to be told. He kept his pace, lapping softly at your pussy, driving you to a piercing orgasm. You were seeing stars, releasing your cum all over his mouth as you ground your hips against his face desperately.

Matt continued his pressure against your pussy, helping you ride out your orgasm. Your hands found his jaw, and you pulled at him, dragging him away from your pussy and whimpering as you pulled him upwards to you. Matt chuckled, crawling up your body and following your request as you pulled him down into you, kissing him with feverish need.

"see how good you taste, baby?" Matt spoke into your mouth.

You whined into the kiss, and Matt flipped you both over, so you were on top of him, sopping pussy pressed against the rough material of his jeans. He toyed with the fabric of your dress, pushing his hands under the material and pressing bruises into your skin as you ground down onto him, kissing him like he was oxygen and you were struggling to breathe.

You moved your kisses down his neck, inching your hands down the buttons of his shirt. You expertly unbuttoned his flannel, his bare chest exposed to you as you pushed it open, leaving it loose on his arms. You arched into him as you peppered wet kisses down his stubble ridden jaw, down his neck and across his chest. You were crawling down his body, your tongue inching closer and closer to the little trail of hair that led to your favourite thing.

You paused as you reached his bulge, palming him through his jeans as you looked up at him through your lashes. You fiddled with his belt, Matt helping you remove his jeans and boxers in one swift movement. His leaking cock slapped against his stomach, the sight of it making your mouth water as Matts gentle hand found your jaw, moving to the back of your head to take a handful of your hair.

You took Matts length in your hand, pumping him slowly as you hovered your mouth over his leaking tip. His head hung back, jaw slack as a soft moan left his lips.

You wrapped your lips around him, lowering your head down his length with a flat tongue against his stiff length. Matts grip on your hair tightened, him fighting every muscle in his body not to fuck into your mouth, wanting to let you do your thing that you did so well. You began to bob your head up and down against him, hollowing your cheeks out as you let him bottom out in your throat.

Matt gently guided your head down onto him, pressing his hips against your lips as you gagged around him.

"fuck, baby, your mouth feels s'good" Matt said breathlessly, letting you continue to bob up and down on him.

You hummed around him, the vibration sending a jolt up his spine as he softly bucked his hips into your mouth. Your hand came up to his balls, cupping him with a tender pressure, a throaty moan escaped his lips at the sensation, his eyes fluttering closed as he let you work your mouth over him.

Pools of saliva gathered at the corners of your mouth, your throat opening to take his whole length as you flattened your tongue against him, the thick vein running up his cock tickling your taste buds as you lost yourself in the motion.

Matts stomach began to tighten, legs twitching periodically and you knew his was close. Before he could unload in your mouth, you pulled off him completely with a pop, earning a desperate whine from Matt who's head shot up at the feeling of your mouth no longer around him.

"why'd you stop?" he whined, eyes trained on your glistening mouth.

you chuckled, rising to straddle him, pumping his wet and sticky cock from behind you as you lined yourself up with his tip.

"I wanna ride you, cowboy" you said seductively, swiping his cock through your puffy folds.

Matt groaned at you taking control, loving when you rode him and loving it even more when you called him silly nicknames like that. He attempted to muster up a witty reply, but his train of thought was cut off by your gummy walls clenching around him as you lowered yourself onto his cock.

Matt let out a blissful sigh, eyes closing at the sensation of being nestled in your warm pussy. You bit down on your lip as he entered you, bringing your hands to rest on his chest as small whimpers left your throat, instinctively grinding your clit down against the small scattering of hair at the base of his cock.

Matts eyes fluttered open, locking with yours as he took in the sight above him, one hand finding your hip as the other tucked behind his head. He loved you like this, needy and desperate to make him feel good, and the sight of you, tits hanging out your dress as it laid bunched up around your hips, steadily bouncing up and down his hard cock, made his head spin.

You leaned forward slightly, pressing your body weight against Matts chest though your palms and you began to shift your ass up and down, dragging your tight walls over his cock as you milked him.

Matts grip on your hip was bruising, him holding you steady as you rode him. His lip was tucked between his perfect teeth, relishing in the sight of you fucking him. Your eyes were closed in pure pleasure, the stretch of your pussy around his cock making you feel lightheaded. His hand came to your ass, kneading at the flesh under your dress, he smacked the fleshy fat, soothing the sting with a massaging touch before repeating his action, spanking you as you bounced on him.

His spanks egged you on, making you feel all the more confident. You opened your eyes and smiled down at him, lip tight between your teeth.

"you look so good like this, pretty girl" He cheesed at you, shaking his head in disbelief that you were his.

You smiled at him, blushing slightly at the compliment as you picked up your pace, causing Matt to moan, his eyes closing as his head craned back into the hay.

"cum inside me, Matt, please, cum for me whilst I ride you" you muttered, your words coming out accompanied by moans, his dick hitting your gummy g-spot as you fucked down onto him harder.

Matt let out a guttural groan, pulling his hand from behind his head and palming your tit, his fingers pressing bruises into your flesh as he maintained heavy eye contact with you though his low hanging lashes.

You picked up your pace, shifting so you were rested on the bottoms of your feet, knees tight against your chest as you fucked him at a relentless pace. Matt couldn't control the noises that left his throat at the new position, the angle letting him hit a deeper spot inside you, your walls tight around his cock as he began to fuck up into you, matching your pace.

The moan that left you was throaty, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Matts balls slapped against your ass with every thrust of his hips, meeting you in the middle as you rode him.

Matts movements began to falter, breathy moans leaving his lips as he kneaded at any exposed flesh of yours he could. You were clenching hard around him, moaning his name, begging him to cum.

He didn't need to be told twice, his hand moved up to cup your jaw, pulling you own into a sloppy kiss as he pressed his cock base deep inside of you, his hips stuttering as he released spurts of white, warm cup into your perfect pussy, filling you up just like you asked. He bit down on your lip as the last remnants of his cum left his tip, coating his dick as you continued to fuck down onto him.

"I love you" he breathed into your open mouth, his whole body relaxing back into the hay.

You followed suit, letting your body weight drop down onto him as the ache of your thighs became instantly prominent, "I love you too" you muttered.

You were both spent, Matt pulling out of you with a hiss as you slumped down onto him, one leg by his side and the other over his hips. He pressed a long kiss into your hair, trailing soft tickles over your arm as you nestled into him, catching your breath on his chest.

The sun was fully set, and the light of the moon was creeping through the cracks in the battered barn walls. Crickets began to chirp outside, the night time wild life coming alive outside the barn doors.

It was a perfect end to a perfect day, and without meaning to, you both fell asleep on the hay, tangled up in one another in the warm embrace of the warm western air.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous

#©sturnsdarling #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo edit #Spotify

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leonstoenailunderhisbed · 2 days

Text

Cupid doesn’t gamble

Summary: Leon, a mafia boss whose empire dominates all casinos on the west coast, meets a young girl amidst a game of poker. What would happen if he threw all his chips and gambled his love for you?

Warning: Mafia!Boss!Leon x Female!Reader. Eventual smut (I know y’all want this so bad). Slow burn. Romantic. Leon is a gentleman. Characters are 21+ (makes sense for casinos). Researched topics. Mentions of violence. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 6,620

A/N: So, I’d like to start off with saying that being in the Mafia is not okay. Al Capone was NOT a good guy. But, this is fiction. None of this is real so before I get myself canceled (pls don’t) trust that I did my research. I thought of Salvatore by LDR writing this lol.

[II] [III]

“The summer's wild and I've been waiting for you all this time I adore you, can't you see, you're meant for me. Summer's hot but I've been cold without you, I was so wrong not to doubt your Medellin, tangerine dreams,” - Salvatore, Lana Del Rey

Poker isn’t just a game of gambling and betting your money away. It’s intimate and personal, in order to win you must read your opponent. Strip each other bare until the other shows a sign of vulnerability, only then will you find a loophole and win.

But nobody seems to understand the arts of chips and card decks. To be given an awful hand and turning the game to your favor is powerful and uplifting. There is great danger with gambling but there are also great rewards.

Leon was a famous man, known for establishing the most successful casinos of, dare I say, the nation. He’s a businessman, driven by the need to make a statement of himself. To hold power over people’s head with a flick of the wrist. He’s ambitious, cunning, but also respectful.

Coming from nothing but rags and the slum, he swore to his parents that he will earn everything he ever wanted in life. To provide for his family, to become one of the richest and notorious men of America. And he did.

He easily became a member of the mafia after being taken under the care of a kind man. When his parents died and he was shunned away by society, he never expected a man from a dangerous world to take him as a child and teach him to become the man that he is today.

And now here he was, engaging himself in a long hour of poker with a rookie player. You’ve never been keen on gambling your savings away, you deterred yourself from gaining the addiction. But, you did like to play every once in a while, especially since the casino you were in was quite lavish, courtesy of the man who built the casino in the first place.

You didn’t know anything about it, you didn’t even know that the man in front of you was the very own man who built his life step by step.

"You're good with your hands," he said in a rich and low tone as he stared at you from across the table.

“Thanks,” you muttered as you moved on forward with the game. You glanced at him, narrowing your eyes as you tried to guess what he was going to move with tonight.

A low, amused chuckle escaped his lips as he continued to watch you analyze him. He knew damn well you had no clue how to play, yet you were trying your best. It's what drew him to you.

He noticed you stealing glances his way as you thought of a plan. *Adorable.* He leaned back into his seat, eyeing you closely as he waited for you to make your next move.

"You're a bad bluffer," he pointed out with a smirk.

“And you’re a talker,” you quipped back with sass. You were silent for a moment before you decided to either go big or go home, “Raise,” you said to him.

Your eyes were glued to him, watching for his reaction. Was he going to fold or call? Either way, you believed you had a better hand than him.

"And you're cocky, too," he returned with a hint of humor in his voice. He raised an eyebrow slightly, surprised by your bold move. Even if you didn't know how to play, you had some guts.

He studies you for a moment, his eyes lingering on you before returning to his cards. After a moment of contemplating, he pushes a stack of chips forward, adding to the pot.

"Call. Let's see what you've got," he challenges you with a sly smile.

You turned your cards over, revealing a Diamond Queen and Clover King. You put them down and crossed your arms over your chest as you looked at him with a smirk.

The bet was a high number of money. Probably worth more than your limbs being sold in the black market. But you were here for a reason, to earn some quick money. The man in front of you looked quite wealthy, wealthy and rich men weren’t uncommon in this place but it still made you feel a bit inferior with everyone wanting to show off.

Leon leaned forward, inspecting your cards closely. The smirk on your face said it all. You thought you had a good hand, and he wouldn't deny that you had a decent one. But, it wasn't enough to beat him. He leaned back into his seat once more, his expression unchanging, as he revealed his own cards. A Spade Queen and a Diamond Ace. A straight flush. His eyes met yours, his smirk turning into a cocky grin.

"I'm afraid you've lost this round, darling," he said in a teasing tone.

Your smirk immediately fell as you saw his straight flush. Wow, you lost again. You didn’t even notice him calling you by a pet name. Did you owe this man money now? How did you not see it coming? That bastard was cocky and confident as hell! You should’ve known he had a good hand.

Leon chuckled once again. The look on your face was priceless—a mix of frustration and disbelief.

He loved it.

"Looks like I win again," he said teasingly, gathering up the chips on the table, "And don't worry, darling, you don't owe me anything. Just better luck next time."

He leaned back in his seat, his gaze still fixed on you as he smirked. He found your reaction absolutely adorable.

You furrowed your brows confused, you didn’t owe him anything? “Wait, are you serious?” You asked confusedly. He was different from other guys around here. Was he really willing to forget about your loss and even wished you better luck?

Who was this guy? There was something about him, though, that seemed dangerous and suspicious, “Why?”

Leon tilted his head to the side as he observed you, noticing the confusion on your face. You were clearly surprised by his words. It seems like you’re *not* used to men like him.

He chuckled softly at your question. "Why? Because I'm a gentleman," he responds with a smirk.

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving your face, "And I'm not in the business of taking money from pretty young girls like yourself. I'm not that heartless."

Your cheeks flared, did he just say you were pretty? You’ve never met a man so… straightforward. You cleared your throat and nibbled on your bottom lip, “Thank you,” you muttered quietly. Leon's gaze softened as he watched your cheeks flush and saw you bite your bottom lip. *Adorable.*

He’s a gentleman, he’s not *that* heartless? You didn’t understand him. He wore expensive clothes and his aura was confident.

“Is there anything else you’d like in return?” You asked as you looked at him, your arms on the table, “I’d feel guilty if you went back home empty handed.”

He leaned back in his seat, a smirk on his lips. "There is... one thing," he replied, his voice low and smooth.

He paused for a moment, his eyes locking with yours once more. "Your name," he said simply, his smile widening, "I'd like to know your name."

You stared at him for a few moments before you nodded slightly, “Okay,” you muttered. You extended your hand towards him, “My name is Y/n,” you said softly. He was truly a gentleman, wasn’t he? He doesn’t take money from girls and he was respectful. He’s one of a kind.

Leon looked at your hand for a moment before taking it gently in his own. His rough, calloused fingers wrapped around your small, soft hand. He loved the contrast between your skin and his. The way your slender fingers fit perfectly in his grasp.

"Y/n," he repeated quietly, as if he was testing the way the name felt on his tongue. He let out a soft chuckle before bringing your hand to his lips. He placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your cheeks flushed even more red when he kissed your knuckles. Did he come out of a book or something?! You’ve never met a man that screamed rich and respectful man. It was attractive. You were a bit speechless. Most guys met wouldn’t even be bothered to know your name and yet, here he was, treating you like a lady. Did he time travel or something?

You didn’t even try to move your hand away, it was like you got stuck in a trance. He was an enigma, who knew your poker opponent was so… you didn’t even know how to describe it. He chuckled softly at your reaction. He wasn't surprised, after all, most men don't have manners these days. Not men like him.

He slowly released your hand, though he couldn't bring himself to completely let go just yet. He continued to hold onto it, his thumb gently caressing your knuckles.

“Can I know your name too?” You asked a bit hesitantly, you wanted to know but you didn’t want to seem disrespectful. He felt so fancy, like a true gentleman. The kind of man you read in romance books where you could only dream of being treated with such care.

"Of course, darling," he replied in a low tone, his gaze still fixated on your face. He could tell that you were completely taken by him, though he couldn't blame you, most girls were. He could tell that you were captivated by his mannerisms and demeanor. It seemed like you appreciated his old-fashioned actions and chivalry, not that he was surprised. But something told him that you were different than the others. You weren't just after his wealth or status, he could see it in your eyes.

In the game of poker, it was easy to fall and lose. But for some reason, you like playing with him even if it means losing most of the rounds.

You didn’t even notice the two bodyguards approaching him from behind since you didn’t know what his occupation was like. You were strangers. The two bodyguards were ready to jump into action if you tried anything suspicious. But what could you do? You were completely harmless.

As his bodyguards approached from behind, Leon glanced over his shoulder at them. He held up a hand, silently signaling for them to hold off. The bodyguards stood a few feet away, far enough to not listen to your conversation but close enough to jump to him if he got into a dangerous situation. Leon's lips curled into an amused smile as he watched you realize the presence of his bodyguards. They were there to protect him, after all.

"My name is Leon," he finally replied, his voice just above a whisper. "Leon Kennedy."

“Leon,” you repeated, tasting the way it rolled off your tongue. It was a fancy name, suiting him very well.

“Nice to meet you, Mister Kennedy,” you said politely. Leon suppressed a chuckle as you repeated his name, the sound of it on your lips was like music to his ears. It was as if you were singing his name, rather than simply saying it.

He smirked when you called him 'Mister Kennedy,' finding your use of a formal title both amusing and endearing. "Please, call me Leon. 'Mister Kennedy' makes me feel old," he teased, his voice low and smooth.

You couldn’t help the small smile from reaching your lips, just minutes ago he beat you in a game of poker and yet, he didn’t make you feel bad for losing. You nodded at him, “Alright, I won’t.”

Then, one of the two bodyguards approached Leon, leaning down to his ear to whisper, “Sir, your presence is being requested on the tenth floor,” he whispered. Leon's expression, although unchanging, darkened at the bodyguard's words. He knew exactly what it meant for his presence to be "requested" on the tenth floor. But he didn't want to leave just yet. He was enjoying the time he had with you, he was enjoying your company and your sweet demeanor. If only he could stay a little bit longer.

He nodded at the bodyguard, silently signaling that he understood. He looked back at you, his expression softening once again.

"I have business to attend to," he said quietly, a hint of regret in his voice.

“Oh, right, yeah,” you muttered quickly under your breath as you stood up, fixing your outfit that you were wearing, “I shouldn’t take more of your time,” you said softly and politely, “It was nice meeting you, Leon. I hope to play with you in the future.”

Leon looked up at you as you stood up, his gaze following every movement. He could feel his heart skip a beat, he found you truly adorable. He felt a pang of disappointment when you mentioned not taking up more of his time. But he understood, he had responsibilities to take care of.

"The pleasure was all mine, darling," he said quietly, his voice slightly strained. He didn't want you to leave, but he had no choice.

“Sir,” one bodyguard spoke up from behind him, “Should we keep an eye on her?” He asked as the bodyguard’s gaze remained on your form, you were already standing by the bar drinking a damn fountain drink.

It was clear that the bodyguards were good at their job, they wanted to keep Leon safe since he was a mafia boss and enemies could be everywhere. Leon's gaze shifted from yours as he focused on his bodyguard's question. He could sense the slight tension in the air, the bodyguards were always cautious. But that was their job, to protect him at all costs.

He shook his head slightly, "No, that won't be necessary," he replied coldly, "She's harmless," he added, his eyes fixated on you once more.

“Yes sir,” the bodyguard said before the two bodyguards began to escort Leon to the elevator to get to the tenth floor. As Leon walked towards the elevator, escorted by his bodyguards, he couldn't help but glance back one last time, his eyes settling on your form at the bar.

He felt a twinge of something, was it concern? He wasn't sure. The thought of you being approached by someone else made him uneasy. But he had to remind himself that you weren't his responsibility.

He stepped into the elevator, his mind still occupied with thoughts of you.

"Watch her," he muttered to his bodyguards, "make sure no one goes near her."

The bodyguard nodded before stepping out of the elevator and went over to watch from a distance to not scare me off.

He was left with the other bodyguard and as they reached the tenth floor, the doors opened to reveal a very expensive suite, “Ah, Leon,” the voice of a man rang as he approached Leon.

The man was no other than a guy that went by an alias, “Kyle”, for safety reasons, “Glad you could make it,” he was dressed in nothing but a bathrobe, the belt tight around his waist to keep him from flashing anyone. Kyle was a character, that much was clear. Greeting Leon as if they were old friends.

"Cut the pleasantries," Leon replied coolly as he strode past Kyle, into the extravagant suite. Despite his cold exterior, his mind was still occupied by thoughts of you.

Kyle laughed and followed after Leon, “Always cutting to the chase, huh, amigo?” He said the Spanish word in a terrible accent, he didn’t even know Spanish.

Kyle was truly one of a kind but he was an ally to Leon’s mafia. Matter of fact, he provided Leon with the newest weapons from an Italian manufacturer. Illegal weapon trafficking.

“Got some new ladies you might want to see,” he said as he walked in front of Leon, guiding him to his room. As he entered his room, the sheets were messy and two naked women laid on the bed. With a flick of his wrist, the ladies stepped out of the room, giving Leon a wink.

As they entered the room, Leon couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight of the naked women on the bed. Was this really necessary?

"I'm not interested," he said bluntly, his cold tone sending a clear message. Despite his outwardly tough demeanor, Leon disliked the lifestyle that Kyle embodied.

Kyle definitely had a typical lifestyle of a play boy, always finding girls to sleep with as he spends money on expensive champagne and clothes. But he was a good provider for the mafia. Kyle was needed; a necessary evil.

But Leon wasn’t a womanizer like that, especially with the way he treated you. Kyle chuckled and shook his head, “Oh, I think you will,” he muttered before I retrieved a box and opened it. Leon's expression changed. The sight of the new weapons in the box piqued his interest.

“Got these new ladies fresh from Rome,” he said, revealing new manufactured guns, “These are in beta testing but their purpose isn’t like regular guns—no. These babies hold up to thrice the ammunition and can fire double bullets at the same time.”

He could already see the potential these guns held. The extra ammunition and the ability to fire double bullets at once could give his men an advantage in a dangerous situation.

"Interesting," he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the guns. Despite his dislike for Kyle's lifestyle, Leon had to admit he knew how to source the best weapons.

"How did you get your hands on these?" he asked, his voice now lacking any hostility.

Kyle shrugged and leaned back, “I sent a blueprint last month over to my manufacturer in Italy. Said he’d give it a try. He experimented here and there right before he sent me these prototypes.”

“But I don’t recommend using them yet,” he said as he walked over to stand next to Leon, draping an arm around Leon’s shoulders as if they were best friends.

“Something about them probably not working and backfiring. Blah, blah, blah. You know the nerd stuff,” he said.

Leon's brow furrowed as he heard Kyle's words. Using untested weapons could be risky, especially if they had the potential for a devastating recoil. He pushed Kyle's arm off his shoulders, his expression turning cold again. He wasn't fond of being touched, especially by someone like Kyle.

"Then why show them to me if they might not work?" he asked with a hint of irritation in his voice. He preferred to focus on proven weapons, not experimental ones.

As his arm was pushed off his shoulders, Kyle wasn’t a bit ashamed, “Well, before we proceed with the testing, we needed your approval.”

Then, Kyle grew a bit serious, which only ever happened once a fortnight. He leaned closer to Leon to whisper in his ear, “I’ve heard that there’s been recent suspicious activity up north where the colony is. This is just a precaution because I don’t want anyone stealing my guns.”

Ever since Leon became the new mafia boss, which was years ago, many other bosses have tried to take him down. Even if it meant stealing his resources. Despite his disdain for Kyle, Leon couldn't ignore the serious look on his face. He knew that when Kyle spoke like this, he wasn't messing around.

"Suspicious activity, you say?" he replied, his voice low and calculating. He didn't appreciate being targeted, especially by other mafia bosses, "Any idea who might be behind it?"

He shrugged and shook his head, “No, there’s no idea who it might be but I’ve heard rumors that it’s someone who’s after your territory.”

Kyle sighed and stored the guns away once more, “In any case. Call me up if you change your plan, I’ll send word to Italy to keep producing and testing. Until then,” he said before he patted Leon on the shoulder and walked out of his room saying, “Alright, ladies, who’s ready for some sexy time on the jacuzzi?”

Leon watched as Kyle left the room, rolling his eyes at the man's behavior. Despite Kyle's eccentricities and playboy lifestyle, he couldn't deny that he was an asset to the mafia. As the sound of laughter and splashing water came from the jacuzzi, Leon turned his attention back to the matter at hand. The possibility of someone targeting his territory unsettled him.

With a deep sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts once again drifting to you. He couldn't seem to get you off his mind.

“Do you want to go back to the main floor, Sir?” His bodyguard asked. Leon's eyes went to his bodyguard, and he nodded.

"Yes," he said simply. He had to go back to the main floor. He knew that his bodyguards had been instructed to keep an eye on you, and he was curious to see if you were still there.

As he stepped out of the room, he couldn't help but glance over at the bar. He could see you sitting there, sipping on a Dr. Pepper. Despite the presence of his bodyguard, he took a subtle step closer, watching you from a distance.

Now the three men were watching you, Leon with his two bodyguards behind him. They were no longer on the tenth floor and instead were on the main floor where you were.

“Who is she, boss?” One bodyguard asked. They had seen Leon play with you for a few rounds but they didn’t hear your conversation. Of how he forgave your debt and asked for your name, but they did see him kiss your hand. Leon's gaze never left you, his eyes watching your every move. He could feel the curiosity of his bodyguards, they had clearly noticed his interaction with you.

“Do you know her?” The other bodyguard asked. They still kept professional but their curiosity was high. They’ve never seen Leon talk to a woman before, he’d usually brush them off because he knew they were after his money.

"She's nobody," Leon replied, his voice cold and distant. Even though he had shown you a rare moment of humanity, he didn’t want his bodyguards to think he had a “soft spot”, especially towards a stranger.

"She's just a poker player, that's all," he added, dismissing their curiosity. But his eyes told a different story, he couldn't tear his gaze away from you.

“A terrible one,” one commented, “A Diamond queen and clover king against your straight flush… she’s got confidence.”

“Or maybe she didn’t know. Our boss holds a really good poker face,” the other replied. Which was true, Leon was a damn good poker player but you also didn’t play like a professional. You barely knew what you were doing.

You turned around to get your bag from the stool next to your standing form, seemingly finished with your drink and getting ready to pay for it.

Leon's eyes followed your every movement, his mind racing, "She was a challenge,” he said quietly, his voice betraying a hint of amusement. Despite your lack of skill, he had enjoyed playing with you, it had been surprisingly fun.

As he saw you turn to retrieve your bag, he felt a strange pang in his chest. He didn’t want you to leave yet. He took a step forward, his bodyguards following closely behind him.

You were too busy looking through your bag, pulling out your wallet and counting the bills you had to pay your tab. Would it even be considered a tab if you got non-alcoholic drinks? You didn’t notice Leon returning at all, his bodyguards didn’t say anything. They knew better than to prod at his life choices. If anything, they’d just keep a more careful eye on you to make sure nothing bad happened.

“Hold on—“ you said to the bartender as you counted your coins to give him the exact number of your total.

As you began counting your coins to pay the bartender, he couldn't help but step forward and reach into his pocket, "I'll cover it," he said, his voice firm and commanding. He felt strangely compelled to take care of you, even in this small gesture.

You straightened up at the sound of his voice, your heart jumped and beat quickly as you whipped your head to look at none other than Leon. Always a true gentleman.

“I—“ you said as yoi looked at him and the bartender before you looked back at his blue eyes, “No, it’s okay. I’ve got this,” you said quietly. He’d already forgiven your debt and now he wants to pay for your drinks?

Leon's expression remained stoic as he heard your protest. He didn't expect you to be so modest and determined to pay for your own drinks. But he found it endearing.

"It's not a problem," he replied, his voice firm. He could sense your guilt, but he didn’t want you to feel like a charity case. He genuinely wanted to take care of you, even if it was in small ways. He slid a few bills to the bartender, paying for your drinks and closing the tab before you could argue further.

Your cheeks blushed again as you looked away, you’ve never had anyone take care of you like he has, “You’re too kind,” you muttered in a flustered tone.

He was already breaking his own rules because the bodyguards seemed to have picked up on some details. It wasn’t common for them to see Leon be so… interested in a woman. Much less someone like you but they found it oddly endearing. Secretly cheering for their boss.

Leon was taller than you so you had to look up at him, “Did everything go well with your business?” You asked genuinely. Leon's expression softened slightly as he saw your flushed cheeks and your sincere question. He was unused to caring about someone’s well being, but he found himself wanting to share a bit with you.

"Yes, business went well," he confirmed, his voice remaining cool and collected. But there was a hint of tiredness in his eyes, the stresses of being a mafia boss often taking a toll on him.

He studied you for a moment, his gaze calculating but not unkind. "And how have you been?" he asked, surprising himself with his own question.

“Oh, you know,” you faintly shrugged your shoulders as you pointed towards the bar, “I stayed there the whole time. I don’t like wandering on my own. Lots of… creeps out here, y’know?”

But he wasn’t a creep. He was far from it. Leon was a gentleman, a man who knew how to treat women right.

Leon chuckled, a rare sound coming from him, at your straightforward answer. He found it refreshing how honest you were, unlike the fake smiles and flattery he usually received from people.

His eyes swept the casino floor, full of various people, men, and women. He knew you were right about the creeps that roamed around, especially with a pretty face like yours.

"You're right about the creeps," he agreed, his voice low and protective. "A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be out here alone."

Your cheeks blushed again when he said you were pretty, why was he so casual with the compliments?! But nevertheless, you couldn’t stop the smile forming on your lips, “Yeah… I was about to leave since it was getting late, actually,” you said as you quickly remembered what you were doing.

“I was going to get an Uber and go back home. I should probably practice my poker skills too,” you said with a small smile. Leon's gaze darkened slightly at the mention of you leaving. He didn't want this night to end, not when he'd enjoyed your company more than he thought he would.

He took a step closer, shortening the distance between you. "An Uber?" he repeated, his voice taking on a hint of disapproval. "With all the creepers out there?"

He paused, seeming to consider something before speaking again. "Let me give you a ride home," he offered, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your eyes widened a bit and your breath hitched when he stepped closer to you and offered you a ride home. You should’ve said no but for some reason, you felt safe in his presence. You slowly nodded your head, feeling like you shouldn’t reject his offer. He’s been kind to you and you wanted to be kind as well, “Only if it’s not a burden.”

“I’d hate to shift your plans for the night. I don’t want to be an inconvenience,” you said with a nervous laugh as you played with your hands.

Leon couldn't help but chuckle at your words and the nervousness in your laugh. You were clearly unused to being cared for like this, but it was almost endearing to see you flustered. He shook his head, his expression serious. "It's not a burden," he reassured you. "And you're not an inconvenience. I wouldn't offer unless I meant it."

He motioned for his bodyguards to follow as he put a hand gently on your lower back, beginning to guide you towards the exit. You gathered your things, which was just your purse, and let him guide you towards the exit. His bodyguards were shocked to say the least. They knew Leon didn’t like to be touched or touch other people but here he was, gently putting his hand on you to guide you out of the building. They were in for a fun ride.

As you made it out and stepped outside, you were met with wind. The wind blew over your form, goosebumps on your skin as you wrapped your arms over your chest to give yourself some heat. Leon noticed your body shiver, the cool night air obviously getting to you. He was so used to suppressing his own physical needs that he had briefly forgotten that you weren’t built for the harsher elements like he was.

"Here," he said gruffly. He removed his black jacket and gently placed it around your shoulders, his fingers lingering for a moment on the fabric.

The black suit jacket was big on you but it was so warm, it even smelled like his cologne and you felt your cheeks flare up. He smelled good, “Thank you,” you said as you looked up at him.

A black car pulled in front of you, it was fancy and the black was matte. No doubt, the latest car. Just how rich was he? One of the bodyguards moved towards the door and opened it for the two of you. Leon nodded in acknowledgement of your thanks, his eyes never leaving yours, "After you," he said, gesturing for you to get into the car first. His voice was gruff, but there was a warm undertone in it.

He waited, standing by the car door, until you climbed in, before he slid into the seat beside you, closing the door behind him. The bodyguards climbed into the front seat, the engine purring softly to life.

No one would’ve believed them if they said that Leon was warm and kind. They’ve seen the type of ruthless man he could be, he was a mafia boss! Hence why the bodyguards were shocked. They’ve never seen him act this way with anyone.

You sat next to Leon, your thighs pressed together and your form still wearing his black suit jacket, “Thank you,” you said before you climbed to sit next to him. You were new to the whole taken care of thing. Leon felt a pang of something unfamiliar in his chest when you thanked him again. It was as if you weren’t used to being treated like this, but he found himself wanting to give you more. He felt the strange urge to wrap you in his arms, to keep you close and away from the world.

He let out a low hum of acknowledgment. "You don’t need to keep thanking me," he said quietly, his voice low and rough.

You softy laughed at his words despite his low and rough voice, “Sorry, force of habit. I’m not used to people being so kind to me. Especially after playing Poker with me,” you replied with a small but genuine smile.

“Most guys would either just get mad at me for beating them or they would humiliate me further for beating me,” you said quietly, your hands laying on your lap as you looked down at them.

Then you glanced back at him, “But you’re different. I think… I like to have you as my opponent… if you’d let me,” but it was more than just Poker, right? It was about connecting, about seeing him again. His expression softened as you spoke again, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, "You like having me as your opponent, huh?" he said, his voice holding a hint of amusement.

He reached out, his hand gently resting on top of yours, his touch calloused but surprisingly gentle, "You don’t even know what you’re asking for."

Your breath hitched and you looked down at his hand on top of yours. Even though he’d held your hand and kissed it, you still got flustered.

But he was right. Essentially, you didn’t even know him. You met him today and lost a poker game. But something in you wanted to keep seeing him, you didn’t want to let such a kind man go.

“I can learn,” you whispered. This went beyond poker, even though you spoke about it, hidden words were conveyed. You didn’t know what you were asking for, not knowing he was in the mafia. Leon's smirk grew at your words, a hint of something more behind it. He could hear the double meaning in your words, and it sent a thrill through him. Here you were, this timid, pretty thing, wanting to get to know him better.

His fingers gently squeezed your hand as he spoke, his voice low. "You’re a fast learner, I bet," he said, his eyes never leaving yours.

But then his expression darkened slightly, the reality of his world intruding on the moment. He was a mafia boss, and you… you were innocent and pure.

You nodded, “I like learning things. Knowledge is power, is what George Orwell said once,” you muttered. Leon's smirk turned into a half-smile at your mention of George Orwell. This girl was full of surprises. It seemed to him that you were more than just a pretty face working as a pit boss.

His grip on your hand tightened slightly, as if reflexively trying to keep a grip on you. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, he should let you go before you get swept into the dangerous world he lived in.

But something about you was making him greedy. The Mafia Boss never had to worry about letting go before, now, he didn’t want to.

You felt his hand tighten around yours and you didn’t want to let go yet. Once you reached your apartment, you looked at him and leaned towards his face to whisper, “Think it over,” you whispered, your brows furrowing a bit before you let go of his hand and got out of the car.

Leon's eyes widened slightly at your whisper, your unexpected boldness sending a jolt of surprise, and something else through him. You'd just told him to think things over, as if it was a date that you were asking him on. But before he could open his mouth to reply, you had already slipped out of the car, leaving him a bit taken aback.

He stayed sitting in his seat for a beat, his fingers clenching the leather, his eyes fixed on your figure. You were playing with fire, and you didn’t even realize it.

You were about to walk into your apartment when you realized you were still wearing his suit jacket. You quickly ran back towards the car and slipped it the jacket off, giving him an awkward smile, “I, uh…”

“Almost forgot this,” you muttered softly, the pink hue on your cheeks not leaving any time soon. Leon took the jacket in his hands, his gaze lingering on you as you handed it to him. He took in your flushed cheeks, your awkward smile, and it sent a pang through his chest.

He wanted to reach out, to touch your cheek, to do something to keep you from leaving. But instead, he simply folded the jacket over his arm, his fingers tracing the fabric.

"Keep it," he said, his voice rough. "It looks better on you."

Your eyes widened a bit and your lips parted into a small ‘Oh’ when he gave you the jacket once more. To which you slowly took, you didn’t want to be greedy but you loved the way it smelled.

“Thank you,” you whispered sincerely, “For tonight.”

The offer still stood. You were willing to throw yourself down into a fire if it meant getting to know him better. Isn’t that what Poker is about? To understand your opponent? But this wasn’t about Poker anymore.

Leon clenched his jaw as he watched your expression, your sincere thanks only making it harder for him to let you go. Your naivete was like a double-edged sword - it drew him in but also made him hesitant.

But he wasn’t some saint. No, far from it. He was a Mafia Boss, and he wasn’t used to denying himself.

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking with yours, his voice a rough, quiet murmur. “When can I see you again?”

You stared at him through the window, a bit surprised that he wanted to see you again. You were just some idiot poker player and yet… was he actually considering seeing you again?

You stood there in shock for a few seconds like an absolute idiot before you realized you hadn’t said anything. Your cheeks flushed and you quickly cleared your throat, “Uh—“

He paused, his eyes roaming over you, taking in your flushed cheeks, your uncertainty. It was a new sight for him, having a woman so clearly out of his world be so... vulnerable.

“You want to see me again?” You asked unsure. Leon’s lips quirked up into a small smirk at your reaction, your surprise and confusion only endearing you to him more. You were just so damn endearing. He leaned back in his seat, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze sharp, “Yes, I want to see you again.”

“Well, I’m free this Saturday… if you want to—I dunno—go out…?”

“Saturday it is, then. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

This time, you couldn’t help the smile that reached your lips. Was he truly taking you out on a date? You nodded your head at him, your lips curling up into a genuine smile, “Alright…” you muttered quietly, “I’ll see you then. You know where I live anyway.”

He offered you a ride and now knows where you lived, but somehow, you felt comfortable with him knowing, “Goodnight, Leon.”

You walked backwards, looking at him for as long as possible before eventually turning around to get into your apartment. Leon watched as you retreated back into your apartment, his gaze following your every move. There was a strange flutter in his chest, something that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Something that he thought he had lost.

When you disappeared from sight, he let out a low, rough exhale, running his hand through his short hair. This was dangerous, getting close to you, but he couldn’t seem to find it in himself to care.

“Goodnight, doll,” he murmured, watching your door close behind you.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #re4 leon #re leon #leon #resident evil leon #re4r leon

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eyesxxyou · 2 days

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" Tender Peaches " ( j. miller )

rating. m

word count. 3.4k

synopsis. you've longed for Joel since you were young but being Sarah's best friend meant he was entirely off limits. until sarah invites you to the millers spring break camping trip and you finally get to have your way with him

warnings. No outbreak!, controversial age gap (reader is 19, Joel is nearing 40), implied fem reader, pining, predatory behavior (from reader), maneater reader, reader really can't take no for an answer, betrayal, guilt, tent sex, wilderness sex, kinda exhibitionism, oral (m. receiving), intercourse, cumshot on back, not proofread, not edited

It wasn't Joel's idea for you to come along on the Millers family camping trip. Sarah had insisted that you, her best friend and college roommate, be included. “They’ve been my best friend for years, since highschool. They’re family too.” You’ve been coming over to their house since you met Sarah at 16. You’ve been invited to every barbeque, every “family” outing, and have had countless sleepovers, giggling in Sarah's room into the late night about relationships and celebrity crushes. There's no reason why you wouldn't be able to come with them to their camping trip.

If it had been any other time, Joel would have said you could come and that would have been the end of it. But it wasn't too long ago, on your 19th birthday, when you came on to him. You found him while Sarah was in the bathroom and admitted to him boldly that you’ve had a crush on him since you and Sarah became friends but you never said anything. Wanted to wait until you were all grown up before you did.

Joel didn't know what to say. He had never initially thought of you that way. You were too young. His eyes simply glazed over you and wrote you off entirely. But now you weren't so young, coming to him with all the tenderness of a lovesick girl. So when you kissed him, he did not refuse you. Your lips were soft and tasted fruity, like sweet peaches.

You broke away from him quickly when you heard the bathroom door open. It's been months and neither of you had brought it up, not even a peep.

But how could he say no to his babygirl who pleaded with him and begged like a puppy. So Joel conceited, agreeing that you could go with a kiss on her forehead that sealed his fate.

You were at the Miller house late the next evening with a bag slung over your shoulder. You hugged Sarah tight, chin resting on her shoulder, your eyes trained on Joel who tried his hardest not to catch your gaze. You watched him swallow hard, adams apple bobbing under the thin skin of his throat.

Tommy came from outside. “Here, darlin’, lemme grab your bags and toss ‘em in the back.” You broke from your hug with Sarah and handed him your bags. “Thanks, uncle Tommy.” You were so integrated with the Millers that you even called Tommy your uncle. Joel, however, was always “Mr. Miller”. What always used to seem so respectful and innocent now held a predatory, seductive inflection to it.

“Let's hit the road.” Joel brushed past you, his arm grazing yours. “Wanna get to the camp ground before dark.”

You and Sarah were in the backseat together, giggling and whispering amongst yourselves while Joel and Tommy sat in the front. The campgrounds were an hour and a half drive out of the city, all of which were spent with the sweet background noise of youthful laughter.

Joel glanced into the rearview mirror to look at you. You had your head tossed back, giggling at something Sarah had told you. Your smile was gleaming, your skin glowing under the broad sunlight. You were dressed in little shorts that hugged your hips and the curve of your ass right as well as a black tube top that showed off the straps of your red bikini top. Sarah had told you there was a lake and you planned on taking a swim.

You brought your head back down and managed to catch a glimpse of Joel’s gaze in the mirror. There was a subtle shift in your smile, one only Joel could recognize. It changed from carefree, childish joy to something far nefarious. He turned his head to face the window and you took the time to admire him, his scruffy brown beard and messy curls on his head. You liked his soft, down-turned eyes and his large, hooked nose. His lips which you once briefly tasted pressed into a thin line.

Arriving at the campground, you and Sarah hopped out of the back of the truck and took off running towards the lake in a fit of laughter while Joel and Tommy got to work unloading everything and setting stuff up. You stripped down to your swimming suit, a two-piece bikini tied at your hips and around your neck. You ran off the pier and jumped into the water with a scream while Sarah sat at the edge and dipped her feet in the water.

Spending around 20 minutes in the water with you, Sarah let out a sigh. “I’m bored. Gonna go help Dad and Uncle Tommy set up. Don’t drown while I'm gone.”

You smiled. “Won't make any promises,” you teased, laughing as she splashes you with her foot before standing. She slipped her feet into her sandals and gave you one last glance and a grin before walking uphill towards your campsite to help set up tents with the Miller boys.

You swam about by yourself for a few minutes, floating on your back. Your mind swam with thoughts of Joel. You’ve been dropping hint after hint that you would, at any moment, give yourself over to him if he so desired. Maybe he was getting them and just ignoring them; you were his daughter's best friend after all. What kind of father fucks his daughter's friend? What kind of friend tries to fuck their friend’s dad?

You perked up at the sound of footsteps. Over the hill came Joel with his booted feet and lumbering steps. You swam to the pier to meet him as he squatted down at the edge. “Sarah wanted me to make sure you hadn't drowned.” That was a real, but feeble, excuse.

You put your arms up on the pier by his feet and looked up at him through long, wet lashes that clung together. “That so?” Joel hummed. “What else would I be here for, peach?” He’s called you “peach” ever since you kissed him, a wink and a nudge, a sweet callback, a sign that maybe this wasn't all one-sided.

“I don't know. You tell me.”

“I'm not playing this game with you.”

“What game?” You asked him with a few bats of your eyes, playing innocent. Joel’s jaw tightened as he looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was coming down the hill or within range to hear him growl at you. He grabbed your arm and leaned in close. “You shouldn't have kissed me that day.”

You pouted, bottom lip jutted out dramatically. “Why not, Mr. Miller? I thought you liked it.”

“I-” Joel sighed and pressed his fingers to his temples. He did like it, too much maybe. Maybe he thought about it more than he should have, maybe the lingering taste of peaches on his lips made him hard. You could see it all over his face. “It’s wrong,” he tried to explain to you. “And I’m not doing this with you.” It’s the first acknowledgement you both have ever given to the situation since you kissed him.

You know if Sarah ever found out about your obsession with her father, she’d drop you fast and hate you forever. That should be reason enough for you to drop your crush on him all together. But you just can't, not when you know that a small part of him wanted you to.

“I think I’m done swimming.” You got out of the lake and hopped up on the pier, allowing Joel to step back before you stood up, dripping wet. Droplets cling to your body, rolling down the curves and valleys of your skin. You are no little girl, not with that body, not with the tenacious hunger you possessed for him.

You took your clothes and walked back to camp with Joel trailing behind, stealing shameful glances at your body.

Camp was mostly set up by the time you were done swimming. The tents were set up, Tommy was working on getting a fire going while Sarah lounged in a fold up chair, snacking on a bag of chips. “Me and you are sharing a tent.” She pointed to the gray one to the side.

“I’m gonna take this stuff off and change. I’ll be back.” You glance back at Joel, watching the way he purposely ignored you to go help Tommy who was struggling with the fire.

You were in the tent for only a few minutes before coming out in the same tiny blue, jean shorts you were wearing before and a crimson red camisole top. You had tied your hair back to expose your supple neck, stepped out in strap sandals. You were pretty.

Joel could just light himself on fire to avoid this mess you’ve created for him. You were far too young for a man his age. Even if that wasn't a problem, Sarah loved you like a sister and would be heartbroken if she knew he had done anything with you. She'd hate the both of you forever. God, why must you do this?

Night came fast over your campsite. The fire crackled and popped before your eyes as you roast marshmallows for s’mores and reflect on past memories spent together. Sarah leaned up against her father who kept his arm around her and kissed her head tenderly. Her eyes weighed heavy with sleepiness.

“Go to bed, baby.” Joel nudged her softly. You decided you’d take her to your shared tent and tuck her into her sleeping bag. It would get her out of the way temporarily. It’s easier to get at Joel when Sarah isn't keeping you apart.

You stayed with her in the tent with her head in your lap while she slowly fell away into slumber. You waited, listened to the fire and the soft murmuring of Joel and Tommy. You were sure Tommy said something about heaving off to his tent to get to sleep and that him and Joel would go fishing in the morning. Old men.

You waited, hoping, praying that Joel hadn't gone to his tent as well. And when you were sure Sarah was fast asleep, you slipped out from under her and left out of your tent to go back to the fire. Much to your relief, Joel was still there, roasting a single marshmallow crispy.

“You waiting for me, Mr. Miller?”

Joel put down his stick slowly and laced his fingers. He didn't look at you, his face firm and stoic. He wouldn't give himself away. He couldn't. He said nothing to you, not even as you came over and sat down beside him. You pressed your side to his, looking at him with your doe-ish eyes and tonguing at your fiendish lips.

“Please don't tell me I’m crazy.”

Joel finally looks at you, his eyes softening. He ran a hand down his face with a stressful sigh. “You’re not crazy, peach. You’re very pretty and as much as I’d like to show you a good time, you’re too young.” You move closer to him, pressing your whole body to his. You took his hand in yours and slid it under your shirt, bringing it to your bare chest where you were very well-developed.

You leaned into him, your nose grazing his. “I’m old enough to know how much I want you. Old enough for you to not get in trouble for ‘showing me a good time’.” You were so soft. His hand groped at you, your softness. Joel knew he should stop, rip his hand from you and tell you off for good, but he wondered if your lips still tasted like peaches.

Lips so close, he could almost taste you, Joel whispered, “but Sarah.”

“Sarah doesn’t have to know.”

You leaned in and pressed your lips to Joel’s. You liked the way his lips fit with yours, all soft and sweet and timid. All he could think about was how your lips still tasted the same and you still kissed him with the eager zeal of a young girl with her long time crush. You pressed yourself into him and slid your hands into his hair, burning your fingers in the thicket of his loose curls.

You pressed your tongue to the seam of Joel’s lips and he offered no resistance as you pushed into his mouth and felt his tongue on yours. His hands gripped your waist under your shift and pulled you ever closer. You let out a muffled gasp into his mouth as he stroked his tongue against yours. It was a messy affair, desperate, quiet gasps between hushed whispers about being quiet.

“We should go to your tent.” You murmured against his lips, breaking away from the kiss. You let his hands slip from under your shirt as you stood. With a smile, gleaming and mischievous, you backed into his green tent and slipped away behind the door flap. You coaxed Joel in with your promise of young, thoroughly athletic sex, and like a fish to a hook, he took the bait.

He followed you into his tent, zipping up the flap behind him before turning back to you. He could barely see you, just your silhouette pulling off your shirt over your head and fiddling with the button to your shorts. Joel took the time to find his flashlight and turn it on, setting it to the side.

By the time his eyes adjusted to the light, you were topless, in just a pair of white, cotton panties. You were the prettiest little thing Joel ever did see. He coaxed you towards him, made you sit in his lap, and kissed you with his fingers playing with the band of your pretty, little panties. You kissed him hard, hips rolling against the fly of his jeans.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head and tossing elsewhere in the corner of the tent. You kissed at Joel’s neck. “Lemme suck your cock. Please, Mr. Miller?” You whisper into his ear, licking the lobe as your hands rub across his thick belt, slowly working it undone.

Joel was salivating, breathing hard and heavy. He nodded slowly with a sigh and watched you slide off of his lap and onto your knees between his legs. You could see the growing outline of his cock pressed down the pant leg of his jeans. He let you work his restraints free and pull out his cock without so much as a moment to stop you.

You were licking in no time. His cock resting on your face as you licked a single long vein that led from his heavy balls to the leaky tip of his cock. You look him in the eyes through the dim lighting as you take his tip into your mouth and suckle sweetly, tongue stroking at his slit. You take a sick pleasure in watching Joel struggle to keep quiet, biting his lip as he glares at you.

You let your mouth fall open slack and pushed your head down. Your throat was open to him, taking him in with quiet gurgles and choking. Joel placed his hand on your head and tossed his head back against the fabric of the tent. “You keep it up, peach.” He hissed through his teeth as you took him further and further with a few ‘gluck’s and teary eyes. You were far too good at this as you pressed your nose into his bush and swallowed his cock down like a bad girl.

You’re too good at this, too good. A skilled little minx with that tongue of yours with doe eyes that don't seem so innocent anymore. You were lying on your stomach, kicking your feet in the air, glucking down his cock like it was your favorite flavor of lollipop. You were taking too much joy in this. After all, you’ve been dreaming of doing this since you met him at your childish age of 16, the blooming of your adolescent sexuality all focused on him.

And when you took him from your throat, stroking him in your hand, you got up from your lying position and kissed Joel again, all tongue and teeth and peachy lips. You hummed into his mouth, tasting like fruit and precum.

Leaning back, you parted your legs and slipped off your panties, tossing them to him with your foot. Joel caught the cotton in his hands and swiftly tossed it to the side as he came crawling towards you.

You both were naked in no time, kissing too much to know the difference between his lips and yours. Joel flipped you over so you lay with your face pressed into his sleeping bag, back arched perfectly to lead to your temping ass waving so deliciously in front of him.

You looked back at him, begging him to take it, pushing yourself into him to feel the thickness of his length tapping against your ass. “Come on, Mr. Miller. I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

Joel couldn't waste any time easing his way inside of you, nice and slick. You were nothing short of pure heaven, all nice and tight and perfect. He stifled a groan as he pushed into your little paradise and found serene salvation as he bottomed out. It took everything within him not to groan out as he gripped your hips and pulled your ass into him.

You giggled into his sleeping bag that smelled so much like him it made you dizzy. He stretched you out good, like you've always dreamed of. This might not have been your first time fucking but this surly might be the best. Joel stroked your sides as he rolled his hips into your ass and told you, “be quite now, peach.”

You take over all the control, pushing your ass back into him before pulling yourself off and repeating the whole deal all over again. Barely hanging by a thread, Joel met you in the middle with shallow thrust and roaming, groping hands. He gripped the pretty fattiness at your hips with an iron-clad grip, his only semblance of control over himself, while you fisted at his sleeping bag.

His fat cock bullied its way into you, stretching and claiming every square inch of you. You whined, pressing your face into the sleeping bag to keep quiet. “Oh– Mr. Miller!” You pushed back and fucked him hard and he fucked you back with just as much zeal.

“You better keep quiet or one of ‘em are gonna hear us.” Joel hissed, his hand on the back of your skull to keep you pressed into the ground, the other in your hip to keep you moving even as they suffered uncontrollably.

He touched just the right spots to make you cum fast and hard. You were seeing stars, blotty spots in your vision made you feel lightheaded. Your body trembled in an uncontrollable fashion, the sweet relief of an orgasm right on the cusp. You were a squealing, whining mess all tangled up in nylon fabric trying your best to keep quiet while you take the first dick you’ve ever wanted in your life. It was a dream come true.

Joel pulled his cock out of you fast, before he could cum inside. He stroked his cock against the curve of your ass until he came along your spine in wet, white splatters. It was warm against your back. You giggled to yourself, curving your back and wiggling your ass against his softening cock.

Joel knew this was bad, so very bad. But something about its inherently taboo nature made the orgasm all the better. He’d have you for one night, indulge himself just this very once, and then he’d never look at you again. You’d go back to being Sarah's best friend, he’d go back to being Sarah's father, and everything would be as they should be.

You used your shirt to clean off your back, murmuring something about changing into your spare one when you get back to your tent with Sarah. Joel was silent, unsure of what exactly he should say as you slip your clothes back on. He was shell shocked, worse than a world war 2 veteran.

And if all things, you kissed him, gently, like you knew this was a hard thing for him to swallow. All the while, you tasted like tender peaches, blushing with shame.

#joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #tlou joel #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou #the last of us #joel miller x female reader #tlou fic #tlou smut

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familygazaamal · 1 day

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The only thing I have left is my children

After losing everything and the people dearest to me, I didn't know what to do but think about saving my children's lives and getting them out of the war zone. Providing them with the simplest necessities of life. Please donate or share the link.

Magdy is a very diligent student. His life was regular and routine. Since the morning he was preparing to go to school with all his love and passion for studying and meeting his friends. He would come back from school, change his clothes, eat lunch, and rest a little. Then he starts writing his homework and reading his lessons, then he plays a little with his brothers, then he sits with his father in the evening. But his father has now been away from him since before the war, and he misses him very much. Majid has a cat that he loves very much and is very attached to. But the war turned his life upside down

Walid, 8 years old. He loves football very much and loves Cristiano Ronaldo and Messi. A year of his life has passed, and another year may pass due to the war. Walid hopes to return to his life, see his friends, and return to playing football and watching football matches. Please support Walid to return to his normal life.

Abdul Rahim is 7 years old. He loves drawing, coloring, and all kinds of arts. He always finds room in paintings to show his talent, and he also loves mathematical problems. He is a diligent and diligent student in school and a top student, but he has been out of school for a long time and no longer has any colors or sketchbook. He sees children dying around him every day, and he's so afraid he'll be next.

My daughter Amal, this little girl who turned one year old two months ago, this little girl who did not see her father because he traveled when she was forty days old, the little girl who did not live her childhood like other children in the world. In the world, Amal is always exposed to diseases due to immune deficiency and because of food and water contamination. Amal misses her father every day and grows up without seeing her father, all because of this war.

@fancysmudges @brokenbackmountain @ot3 @mothblossoms @aleciosun @fluoresensitive

@khizuo @transmutationisms @schoolhater @timogsilangan @appsa @buttercuparry

@sayruq @malcriada @palestinegenocide @sar-soor @akajustmerry @feluka @nabulsi

@a-shade-of-blue @tortiefrancis @tsaricides @flower-tea-fairies @riding-with-the-wild-hunt

@visenyasdragons @belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @kordeliiius @brutaliakhoa @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish @theropoda

@4ft10tvlandfangirl @queerstudiesnatural @northgazaupdates2 @skatezophrenic @sygol

@awetistic-things @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @junglejim4233 @heritageposts @pcktknife @chososhairbuns @dlxxv-vetted-donations

@illuminated-runas @imjustheretotrytohelp @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness

#palestine #free palestine #free gaza #gaza #gaza strip #save palestine #gaza genocide #palestinian genocide #olympics #poolverine #the gaza strip #help palestine

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eloquentlytired · 23 hours

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— when the time comes, part two

pairing: logan howlett x gn! reader

part one is here

drabble,fluff, wade is briefly here <3 and blind al (slay)

summary: perhaps logan’s wish to find you in a different timeline comes true. and this time he doesn't only find you, but wade as well.

author’s note: I was wondering if I should add laura somehow to this scene but I think it came out perfect like this! what if I make a part three for the dinner/table scene where they're all together with wade though enjoy babies !!! this low-key made me cryyy... as always reblogs & likes & conversations are sooo welcome ^_^

“this is logan.”

you turn around as wade’s voice echoes within the small apartment. you'd been roommates for a while since you both were struggling with rent and this sort of arrangement had been quite beneficial. your friendship with wade had flourished in no time and you had somehow managed to become less anxious with his help, always having silly laughs and finding nice things even in the toughest situations.

you begin moving away from the kitchen area as you hear a dialogue going on — wade, al and a voice that didn't remind you of anything.

“finally, sweet cheeks. thought i’d have to start a new pissing ritual for you to show up!” wade chimes while placing a hand on his hip and looking straight at you. Whatever follows after, it never reaches your ears.

you stand there frozen, spatula falling from your hands, as your gaze stares at the man behind wade. you don’t know him but at the same time you do. that messy hair, that beard and those eyes. whoever that man was, he must have felt what you were feeling as he also stills by wade’s side. the silence that follows is long and awkward for the others but not for you and this man; at least that's what wade points out and ruins the moment. “right. if you're done eye fucking each other — and by the way sweet cheeks I thought we had something special — but yes if you're done..” wade walks towards you and gently pushes the goofiest dog ever in your hands. what the fuck?

“—I have a bath to run. gotta get those pores unclogged before my big party.” you tried to protest but wade was already gone and al was leaving as well, muttering something about holy sugar time.

the pair of eyes across you never leave yours. you stare back at the strange man named logan; at least that's what you'd heard wade call him. “I...nice to meet you.” you finally whisper while slowly setting the dog down, your hand instinctively reaching towards logan. the taller man leans forward as well and holds your hand, shaking it in the process. “i’m logan. thanks for having me.” he murmurs and for a man his size, you didn't anticipate such simplicity and gentleness in his voice. your eyes fill with unshed tears and for an unknown reason logan reaches out to wipe them away before they stain your cheeks. you shudder at the strange familiarity of those warm digits upon your skin. logan swallows thickly. “do I know you?” he asks and you look at him with wide, sparkly eyes. you were the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. “it feels like it, doesn't it?” was the only reply you could offer him as he nods.

a moment passes. then two. logan drops his hand from your face, realizing the boundaries he's crossing. not that you really minded his touch. you quickly compose yourself and wipe the remaining wetness from your face before shifting your gaze in between logan and the kitchen.

“are- are you hungry,logan?” you suddenly ask, your voice kind of shaky.

the surprise on his face lasts briefly before a small but genuine smile settles on his features. “yeah. starving actually.” you chuckle. he does too.

as logan follows you into the kitchen, and despite wade’s awful singing coming from the bathroom, you think about the cheapest bed you can buy tomorrow for the third addition in your family.

#logan howlett x reader #wade wilson #wade x logan #marvel #deadpool 3 #deadpool and wolverine #ryan reynolds #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #Spotify #logan x reader

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drmaddict · 3 days

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N.F.I. - Not Fucking Invited

Summary: Michael and his girlfriend are spending Christmas with Michael's family. One morning, when they both just want to enjoy their togetherness, they are both rudely interrupted by somone who what not fucking invited.

Word count: 904

Author's note: Somehow I seem to have an urge to let Ewan's characters get caught.

She doesn't know what she thought Michael's family would be like, but definitely not so... normal.

His father was quite a successful builder. His mother was a hearty housewife. His older brother was training to be a car mechanic and the family dachshund, Baloo, had hip problems.

It had been strange when she first entered the house. He had invited her round for Christmas. He said it was because he wouldn't have a single lively conversation otherwise. But he seemed slightly nervous, when he introduced her to his mother.

A warm, slightly chubby woman who almost broke her back the first time she hugged her. Just like his father crushed her fingers, when he shook her hand.

It was all unexpectedly unremarkable. Most of the time the two of them withdrew and spent a few quiet hours together, but somehow his brother always found a way to interrupt them both.

Whether they were discussing their last lecture, gossiping about fellow students or just sitting together in silence. He found them.

Michael always looked more annoyed than the time before. Siblinglove didn't even seem to spare geniuses.

Only in the morning did they really had their peace from him. He was a late riser and therefore no danger until about eleven o'clock.

They were both still lying under thick down on chistmas day. The sun was just about to stretch over the horizon. She looked at his face. Relaxed. His eyes closed. His glasses were on the bedside table. His hair was tousled. Only his thumb, lazily tracing circles on her hip under the blanket, revealed that he was already awake.

She bit her lip. It had been quite a while. The pre-Christmas stress and preparations for the final tests for the semester had kept them both apart. And nothing had really happened since they'd been here.

But his thumb on her skin made her sigh silently.

She pushed herself even closer to him. With a mischievous grin, she put one leg over his hips and pulled herself as close to his body as possible.

His eyes fluttered open and looked at her questioningly. With a grin, she slipped the pantys off her legs and simply threw them away. Michael's eyes showed her, that he understood.

His gaze flitted briefly to the bedroom door, but then he too pulled his pyjamas and shorts out of the way. They caressed each other lazily. Kissed without haste. He slipped his hands under the sweatshirt he had once 'lent' her. They cheered each other on quietly and then he sliped into her.

Under the protection and warmth of the blanket, they gave themselves to each other.

She knew he liked this kind of sex. There was something meditative about it. It calmed his otherwise restless mind.

She ran her nails lightly over his back under his shirt. He buried his face in his-her sweatshirt. The world was perfect.

Until the door opened.

"Get up already. There are presents.", his brother whined.

They both looked at him, perplexed.

"You're 24! Can't you wait until after breakfast like any normal person?"

"No!"

"Get out of my room!"

His brother leaned against the doorframe. She realised in that moment all too well, that Michael was still inside her. Involuntarily, her centre tightened at the thought. Michael's breath hitched.

"Am I interrupting something?", his brother grinned.

"Always.", Michael bit out. His hips jerked forwards slightly.

"Then come down." He said sweetly and disappeared. The door still completely open.

Michael took a deep breath. "Fuck.", he whispered. "You like that.", he simply stated. There was no question to be found.

My hips twitched slightly at the thought of the open door.

"It's surprising us both.", she whispered.

Michael picked up his rhythm again. Faster than before, but his hips only moved minimally to minimise the rustling of the blanket.

She buried her hands in his hair. Moved towards him just as quickly. His thumb found its way between her and onto her bundle of nerves.

The knot inside her tightened. Her nails clawed into his shirt and then she fell. With her head buried against his chest, she jerked haphazardly and pulled him into the abyss with her.

They lay there, slightly out of breath. Still entwined. He buried his face in her hair. She savoured the soft, washed-out fabric of his T-shirt on her cheek.

They made no attempt to break away. They both enjoyed the feeling of still being connected. They both let themselves drift with the cosy lightness.

"Are you coming for breakfast? Your brother is driving me crazy.", they both heard Mrs. Gavey's cheerful voice.

"Yes Mum.", Michael said far too quickly and watched tensely as his mother disappeared down the corridor again.

He jumped up frantically, completely ignoring the fact that he was half naked, and quickly slammed the door shut.

"Fuck.", he whispered.

She pressed her lips together and took a deep breath. "Sorry.", she whispered back.

He just shook his head. "We'd better get dressed or my dad will be standing here too."

She smirked, but fished for her knickers and reached for her toiletry bag. She planted a quick kiss on his lips and wanted to leave to the bathroom, but he stoped her by the upper arm.

"Don't think we're not repeating this in the library.", he clarified.

She smiled, but her stomach fluttered excitedly at the thought.

"I can hardly wait."

"Little minx."

#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey fanfic #saltburn fanfiction #michael gavey fluff #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters

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morose-melodies · 9 hours

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i need dottore,tartaglia,pantalone and capitano(those were in my mind for a while and its killing me) with a reader who always tries to escape.using different tactics each time but always ends up failing.and one day,the reader hads enough and snaps "if you didnt take away and acted like a normal person from the start,i could have loved you"

İf you dont want to or dont feel like writing,thats ok👍

failing attempts | various! yandere! harbingers x reader

CAPITANO

this was escape attempt five.

you truly were optimistic, but capitano wouldn't let you leave him so easily.

your escape attempts seemed to be getting more and more desperate and, therefore, more dangerous to you.

you had attempted to jump out of a window the night before, just as he was arriving home from a mission. the sheer terror he felt as he watched you lean out of the second-floor window was insurmountable.

now, not only was the front door locked shut from the outside, but the windows were now barricaded too. you were a danger to yourself.

and all capitano ever wanted was for you to be safe and with him. was that too much to ask for? was that so terribly wrong of him?

the captain didn't want to take extreme measures to keep you home; he didn't want to lock you in a room, nor did he want to tie you down. he wasn't the sort. He just wanted you to stay without any excessive force.

but you were pushing him into a corner.

this morning, you had darted out of the backdoor, still in your pajamas and without shoes, into the cold.

you didn't make it far at all. you had barely made it over the garden fence, and you were stumbling now.

the captain... sighed as he followed after you. it wasn't an extreme chase; you hadn't even tried to fight back as usual when he caught you; you just stumbled on about something incomprehensible as he wrapped you up into his coat and lifted you into his arms.

"that was terribly immature of you," looking down at you, the captain felt sorry for you, "I would like it if you would stay home but if you plan on leaving, please do wear proper clothing next time. i can not bear the thought of you dying out in the cold."

"if you didn't take me away," at this point, perhaps death was better than being stuck with him, "and if you acted like a normal person," but, you wanted to go home - you wanted to be with your family, "I could've loved you."

capitano's mind blanked. he had given you a chance to come with him freely; he had been kind to you, so were you not lying?

it didn't matter now, did it? "(y/n), you do understand you've caused all this trouble, correct? should you have been a bit more understanding, you wouldn't be in this situation. i love you. Is that not obvious? i only want to see you thrive and to be happy."

he was at the point of no return; he could only go backward from here.

DOTTORE

to take time out of dottore's day, to make him leave the manor to come find you for what seemed like the millionth time - he was admittedly quite frustrated with you.

he found you hanging from the gate, your coat caught on the spike of it.

he grinned - this was a funny sight, but, at the same time, it wasn't funny at all. he was actually very disappointed in you.

dottore approached the gate, standing behind you, "tell me just how long have you been hanging here for?"

your nose was running, and you looked absolutely defeated. when you don't reply, dottore clicks his tongue, shaking his head, "Would your life not be simpler if you just accepted your situation? This is such a pitiful sight, (y/n)."

dottore unlocked the gate and walked outside of him, and he helped you down and brushed off the snow that piled on your coat.

"let's go, (y/n)," dottore grabbed your forearm and prepared to pull you back towards the manor, "I've had enough of your antics - perhaps a night or two in the basement would do you well."

"no-" you tugged back, attempting to free your arm from his grip, "stop it! you make me s-so sick! just let me go!"

"(y/n), please. you've done nothing be give me grief," dottore sighed, tugging you along with him, "I don't understand why you feel that being stubborn will get you anywhere."

"you... don't understand?" you grumbled, digging your feet into the snow, trying to pull your weight, trying to stop dottore from getting you back inside, "you're kidding me! i hate you! You're disgusting and unlovable!"

"(y/n), lower your voice - I'm exhausted and you're giving me a migraine," dottore sighed, stopping and getting a better hold on your arm before tugging you along once more.

"if you have yet to notice, I'm quite content with just having you near. i don't exactly need your love to make me feel any better than i do now. hm, that's the sort of effect you have on me."

you went quiet and dottore assumed you had worn yourself out. he brought you inside and sat you down in front of the fireplace, his hand rubbing circles on your shoulder.

"I could've loved you... maybe if you hadn't taken me away..." you trailed off, holding your hands in front of the fire. Why did he continue to act as if he cared for you? "maybe, um, if you were normal, I could've loved you."

dottore smiled at you, though you couldn't see it, "whether you love me or not is trivial - i have you, (y/n), and that's what I need. you, (y/n), you're all I need."

PANTALONE

pantalone was above getting dirty.

it was nothing personal. he'd do just about anything else for you! he just couldn't imagine himself running around late at night trying to find you.

what was the point when he had other fatuus to do such things for him? they have yet to fail him.

so, while you were out, trying to leave pantalone as multiple fatuus' chased after you, pantalone was running you a warm bath and set a pair of clean clothes out for you.

he knew you'd come back filthy. You always did.

he wondered what he could do to keep you home. He wasn't one for forceful methods; he would hate to hurt you. you were his pride and joy.

pantalone would sigh deeply, dipping his hand into the bathwater to make sure it was still warm.

you never wanted anything from pantalone... well, except for that one time, you asked for a can of soup, but then you used it to smash the bathroom window open and jumped out...

that didn't exactly count.

he heard the front door open and knew you were being dragged in now. the guards weren't gentlemen, quite the contrary, in truth.

you always looked so sad and defeated after the caught you.

"oh, (y/n)," pantalone held a hand to his chest as he stood from where he kneeled at the side of the tub, he stepped forward and wanted to embrace you but you were a mess, "you're a mess."

he frowned at you, as the guards released you and shut the bathroom door behind them as they left. "you must be cold, oh dear," his heart ached for you, such a pitiful sight you were.

you were so lucky that he loved you.

he attempted to remove your top, but you tensed, making it hard for him, "do-don't touch me."

"but you're filthy," pantalone reasoned, once again trying to remove your top but you wouldn't budge, "(y/n), I'm doing this because I love you so very much. please, don't make this hard."

"I don't-" you stepped back, shaking your head at him, "I don't want your help. g-get out, just leave."

pantalone's lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at you, "what's the matter? i-i'm not mad at you, not at all. I understand that i must be lacking something-"

"get out! my gosh, wh-what's with you!? just leave!"

"(y/n)..."

"get out! get out! leave!"

"please, calm down. let me help you undress, alright? You're in a bad mood, i get it. That's no excuse to be rude to someone who loves you dearly," pantalone spoke to you as if he were your mother.

he reached forward and tugged off your shirt with extra force; it wasn't much force; it was just in case you were prepared to tense up again!

"there we go," pantalone cooed as he eased you into the warm bath. he washed your hair for you, making sure to scrub extra hard to get the muck out of your hair.

it was, in a way, soothing...

if only...

"if you hadn't... taken me away and, um," you sniffled, raising your hand to wipe at your nose, "if you were normal... i could've loved you."

instead of offending, that pleased pantalone. what he was hearing was 'you liked him for who he was' and there was nothing better than hearing that.

hm, if only he hadn't taken you away.

"that is the kindest thing you've ever said to me," pantalone smiled, "thank you, (y/n)."

CHILDE

it was a sort of game to childe at this point.

how many times could you attempt to escape this week? how many times would you curse him to hell? how many times would you glare at him today?

he had to find humor in it, or else, he'd lose his mind. after all, there was no easy way to cope with the love of his life hating his guts.

in truth, he had been a bit overbearing the past few days - there was a snowstorm outside and he couldn't allow you to be out in that sort of weather alone.

so, as he stared out the window, looking at the rapidly falling snow, all he could think about was if only something was different. perhaps if the two of you were childhood sweethearts, maybe if the two of you had met before he fell into the abyss, or maybe if the two of you were neighbors.

he, at one point, had gotten so desperate to keep you home that he bent to your will - anything you asked, he did. you never really asked much of him, though...

well, unless telling him to go away was a question.

he was so busy thinking of all the "what ifs" that he didn't notice you running past the window and into the snowy woods.

well, he did, but it just didn't click for him at the moment.

and when it did click? he was out the door, tugging his coat on, not even bothering to shut it behind himself.

"c'mon, (y/n), now is not the time for this!" he called out, watching as you ran around a tree and seemingly "disappeared."

he knew you too well. you expected him to run around the tree to look for you, but he wouldn't; he watched as you emerged from the other side of the tree and pulled you into his open arms.

you can't use the same trick twice on him.

he held you against his chest - he didn't mind that you were nudging at his chest, trying to get away from him. "c'mon, it's pretty cold out here. I'll make you tea when we get back inside."

"no! im not going back!" you nudged harder at his chest, trying to get out of his hold.

"I said we're going back in. we really need to talk ab-"

"there's nothing to talk about! you're not normal and i won't love you!"

he thought had heard it all from you, so, hearing this wasn't anything new, but, what was new was hearing you say:

"if you wanted me to love you, maybe you should've been normal," you paused, and childe's hold on you loosened, his arms going slack at his sides and he looked down at you, "if you didn't take me away... and maybe if you acted like a normal person from the start-"

once again, you paused and took a step back away from him. childe didn't want to hear what you were going to say, even as he imagined what you might say, his chest ached... he wouldn't be able to handle it, "(y/n), let's just go in, okay? i don't want to hear it from you."

"- i could've loved you."

oh, it hurt so badly.

childe tried so hard to be unbothered, so, why was he so hurt from hearing this? he loved you, and he's tried everything to make you understand just how much he loved you, and now you say that you'll never love him.

it hurt, of course, but he's come so far.

childe strongly believes that people can change, anyway. so, he'd keep trying his absolute hardest for you until you buckled and confessed that you loved him back.

but, in the meantime...

"you can still love me," he said, with a weak smile, "I've been good to you, (y/n) and I think I deserve some credit for being so patient, right?"

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ghouldump · 3 days

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To Be Loved | Armand x Reader

ෆ idolized and worshipped by your coven members, alive but not living, things quickly change for you when you move to Paris, and meet your soulmate.

requested via private messages, this was so cute, no manipulative gremlin armand.

What is Love? A feeling of deep admiration or likeness? Patience, kindness, unconditional forgiveness? It was hard to tell. The emotion had become so distant from you, a faint memory from half of a millennial ago. Love required trust, and you couldn't bring yourself to trust another.

“My lord, the sun has departed for the night,” Demetrius said, making you look up from your lap. Everyone kneeled before you, their heads down.

“You may go and hunt,” you dismissed them, closing your eyes. You could feel their stares lingering, hesitating, as they stood up, leaving you alone in the dungeon.

“How long will you starve yourself? At least feed on the rodents, you look like death,” hearing her voice, feeling her closeness, but refusing to face her, to acknowledge the concerned expression.

“Good, then I’m one step closer to dying for good,” you sighed.

“Y/n, don't be stupid, go drink, it is an order from your maker,” she ordered, making you open your eyes.

“Leave me,” you screamed, facing her, but she was gone.

Cassia, the reason you were here today, the last person you trusted. You were from a wealthy family, and your father, and his father, both swordsmiths, valued, oftentimes working alongside kings and their soldiers.

While he was never home, your mother was too immersed in raising your younger siblings to focus on you, nevertheless, you were loved. On birthdays and traditional holidays, you'd receive amazing gifts of all kinds, praised and advised on everything, you couldn't have asked for a better life. It wasn't until the mysterious young woman, Cassia moved close by, that your life changed.

You had been out later than usual, on your way home from a friend’s house, when you saw her. She stood outside of her house, reaching for the apples on the tree.

“Hey, could you lend me a hand, I can't reach these,” she called out, stopping you, just as you passed her short fence.

“I really need to get home,” you said, apologetically.

“It will only take a moment, please, come,” she said, watching as you awkwardly entered the gate. You didn't understand how she thought you could help when there wasn't a big difference in your height.

Jumping a few times, you managed to knock the apples out of the tree. Picking them up, you placed them in her basket, turning to leave, but she stopped you.

“Bring them in,” she told you, already walking into the house. Glancing down the road at your house, you picked up the basket, and you entered the home. It was much brighter than outside with all of the candles, neatly arranged.

“You can sit them on the table,” she said, turning to face you. Your eyes widened for a moment, she was one the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. Her skin was perfect, smooth with a few small moles, full lips, doll eyes, and glossy soft hair.

“Thank you,” she told you.

“You're welcome,” you said, turning to leave.

“How old are you? I heard your family a few weeks back, celebrating a birthday,” she said.

“Eighteen”

“And you aren't betrothed?” she asked, as she moved closer.

“No, my father will begin looking for arrangements later this year,” you explained.

“Good, whoever has you, will be lucky, you have a heart of gold,” she said, her hand going to your cheek. She was moving closer, making you uncomfortable, an eerie grin on her lips.

“Go, it is getting late, but come back tomorrow night,” she continued.

There was something intriguingly bizarre about the woman because despite how weird she seemed, the next night you found yourself, fidgeting with your fingers, in front of her door, contemplating if you wanted to knock. Just as you raised your hand, the door opened.

“Come in,” she smiled, moving out of the way.

“I don't believe I got your name, yesterday night,” she continued.

“Y/n,” you held out your hand.

“Cassia,” she raised an eyebrow, taking your hand into her own.

Awkwardly staring at your hands, while she gazed at you, she continued caressing her thumb against your skin. Clearing your throat, you took your hand away.

“What did you need?”

“I have a gift, for your generosity,” she said.

“No need, it was nothing-

“I insist, please, sit,” she pointed to the table. Gulping, you went to sit down, something peculiar about her tone sent a chill down your spine.

“I hope you like apples, I made pastries, it has been a long time since I’ve made anything like these, but I know they are delicious,” she smiled, setting the tray in front of you. The slice of fresh apple pie, along with cookies.

“Thank you, this really was unnecessary,” you shook your head, breaking a piece of the cookie.

“You were the first and only to help me, it is obvious that you have been chosen,” she told you, watching as you ate the cookie.

“Do you like it?” she asked, smirking as you nodded. Chewing, you began to cough a little, repeatedly clearing your throat, and staring into the cookie. Standing up, you made your way to the door, stumbling, Cassia slowly behind you, catching you, as you fell unconscious.

Waking up, you struggled to move, opening your eyes, confused to see Cassia, straddling your lap, placing a variety of ointments and oils onto your body.

“W-what is going on?”

“I am preparing your body for your death,” she told you before she started humming.

“My what? Release me,” you wiggled, stopping as her hand went to your throat.

“You have been chosen, do not ruin this,” she snapped.

“Cassia, please, what are you talking about?”

“Those who must be kept were cursed, damned to eternity on earth, and to live off of blood, but the creator showed them mercy, bestowing soulmates. A companionship stronger than any other, the perfect partner, meant only for those with the dark gift. My soulmate, Elias, was weak, he chose the sun, he chose death over me. I’ve prayed and prayed, and I asked for another soulmate, and you have come along, helping me and I have to turn you to ensure we have each other forever,” she said, your eyes widened in fear, shaking your head.

“You're mistaken-

“I haven't been more certain,” she told you, her fingers brushing over your lips before she bared her fangs.

“To us, and an eternity of our love,” she said, sinking her fangs into your neck draining the life from out of you.

Turning you, within a single night, you had lost everything. Your family, friends, life, everyone sensed how different you became. How you suddenly left home and would only be seen with the strange woman. The same exterior, but a different entity possessing the body they once knew. The new social discrimination you experienced didn't help, being shunned for your not-so-obvious relationship with Cassia.

She was a lonely soul and out of your kindness, she convinced herself you were her second chance at love. She would later explain how it felt when you would come across your soulmate. How you would love them no matter who they were, their shade, or where they were from. She didn't realize it until turning you, but she had been wrong, there was no second chance. She would've let you go, to find your way with the dark gift, but she couldn't.

After the side effects wore off, the way you looked at her, your maker, brought butterflies. She knew it was only the gift, bringing on the newfound lust, but she gave in anyway. It was nothing more than sex for you but after centuries of celibacy, it felt like lovemaking to Cassia. On the living room floor, until morning came, then reality came down on you. Pulling away, a hint of disgust in your eyes, she knew then. Running outside, you only made it past her fence, before you fell to your knees, screaming in agony.

“Cassia,” you cried out, confused why this was happening.

Wearing a cloak, she grabbed a blanket and rushed out to save you, carrying you back into the house. From that point, even if you weren't hers, she loved you and felt a need to take care of you. After a few decades together, you eventually accepted her, but she knew it was only a matter of time before you came across your soulmate. That is why, a century into your companionship, she finally surrendered to the sun, leaving everything to you.

The last person to love you had left you alone. Her wealth and dark gifts, she passed, but you were utterly alone. You became a vagabond, you had no one to keep you settled in one place. You attempted to surrender a few times, but Cassia’s spirit wouldn't seem to leave you alone, talking you out of it every time. You formed a bitterness towards her, she claimed to love you, yet she brought you into this lonesome life, just to leave you.

Eventually, you found yourself in Rome, Cassia’s homeland. She and her soulmate were both turned and met here. You acted as if you hated her, but found yourself in the very place she was born. Buying a large home in the countryside, you were satisfied with the large dungeon in the home.

Not long went by, before your encounter with the local vampires. They came to you on a night you stood near a cliff, trying to pray. You had been trying for so long, you didnt have an end solution. For God to make your life less lonely, to bring your soulmate, to help you finally end your life, you were sure he wasn't listening, but it helped pass the time.

As they surrounded you, you didn't bother facing them, maybe they could kill you, but then Cassia came, telling you to show them your power. You had inherited all of the gifts and were much older than them. Begrudgingly, you turned to them, flying above them, watching as they quickly submitted to you. Then, one of them pointed out that you were praying, perhaps you were their saint, a mediator for the damned to god himself.

You denied their claims, but they didn't listen, asking to reside with you, which was the beginning of your coven. Eight young vampires, you grew closest to Demetrius, Jonah, and Marianne. Three centuries came and went and they all remained devout. Even though, for the last few years, you would be off and on starving yourself for weeks at a time.

“My lord?”

“Yes, Demetrius?” you answered, slowly turning to look at him. On his knees, his head bowed, he held a box.

“For you, you shouldn't starve yourself like this,” he said, as you took the box, surprised to see the trapped rats inside.

“Thank you,” you said, grabbing one of the rodents, and biting into it.

“The others are too afraid to mention this, and asked me to bring it up with you,” he said, nervously.

“Well, out with it,” you told him.

“We want to leave Rome, a few locals have gotten suspicious, and the talk has made its way to the city. We could easily kill them, but it would cause too much attention, so we think it is best to leave,” he said.

“Stand up,” you told him. You found it so bothersome having all of them bowing and crawling at your feet.

“The others are aware that they are able to leave this coven, I will not stop any of you,” you told him, as he stood in front of you.

“Yes, but we want you to come, Marianne thinks we will be safe in Paris, but we want you to join us,” he said.

“Go with them, Rome no longer serves you any purpose, you only await death here,” Cassia told you, as you stared at Demetrius.

“How soon did everyone expect to leave?”

“As soon as possible”

“Then we will leave for Paris, and you all can come out from hiding,” you said, watching as your coven members slowly revealed themselves.

“Thank heavens, there is one more thing, Demetrius hasn't told you, my lord,” Jonah said, making you face him.

“And what is that?”

“We have hopes of blending in with society”

“Very well-

“I think they mean everyone”

“I mean everyone, and with the utmost respect, you will also have to adjust, or you will look out of place, Marianne can take care of your wardrobe,” he said nervously, glancing at her.

“Tell them yes,” Cassia said excitedly.

“If these are the plans, you all will need to prepare, as soon as possible,” you said, watching as everyone��s faces lit up, dropping to their knees, they worshipped you.

“This is good, you need the change, you can finally take steps towards living your life,” Cassia told you, as you lowered your head.

Hopefully. How long would your life continue like this? The vain worship, as if you were their god. You couldn't remember the last time someone looked into your eyes and saw you as an equal. Maybe Paris could change the agonizing lifestyle you felt trapped in.

“I hope I haven't overdone myself, my lord,” Marianne said, her head down, following you into the large castle-style home.

“It is perfect, I can't remember the last time I saw coffins this nice,” Cassia clapped, walking next to you.

“You have done well, everything is pleasant,” you told her, patting her head as she thanked you profusely.

“Amazing, we have our own coffins?” Alexander, one of the younger, newer members of the coven exclaimed. He was also Marianne’s soulmate.

“Yes, I apologize for my negligence as a coven leader over the years, in the dungeon, I felt no need for coffins, being that it was dark, but coffins are much more comfortable than the cold floor,” you told him, you didn't realize until after speaking, everyone stared at you with such admiration in their eyes.

“We chose you as our leader, and we accept any conditions, as long we can stay with you, although we are very thankful for the upgrade,” Jonah told you, everyone agreeing.

“Enough of the praise, there are still a few hours left in the night, go hunt, and travel together, until you are familiar with your surroundings,” you waved them off.

“You're not coming?”

“Perhaps another time, go on,” you told them, turning away, and going to your room.

It had only been a few hours since arriving in Paris, at the large house. Demetrius took care of finding the place, while Marianne furnished it, before your arrival. You couldn't lie, you felt uncomfortable, your usually unruly appearance had been completely changed, replaced by fitted trousers and a soft turtleneck.

You refused to be walking around in the strange dresses of the age and preferred androgynous pieces of clothing.

“Will you hunt tomorrow?”

“Cassia, why is it that even in death, you force yourself into my life, I am not yours,” you told her sternly.

“You are my fledgling, my blood flows within you, I can not leave you to die, not when you have so much potential and when you haven't given yourself a chance to find your soulmate, even in death, I love you more than myself”

“Then why did you leave? All you wanted was for me to love you, and when I did, you left,” you faced her, pointing accusingly.

“I made a mistake turning you, out of my own selfishness you were created. I couldn't keep you, and deny you the vampire meant to be yours. You can hate me, but I knew what was best, and trust me when I say, that coming to Paris was for the best, what’s yours is soon to come, sooner than you think,” she said, vanishing.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and Cassia never spoke to you. It was refreshing, not having her in your ear. Other than the praise and worship, Paris seemed like the change you needed. No one encountered any other vampires, and they all were beginning to blend, amongst the mortals, as they originally wanted.

“My lord, please help,” Marianne burst into your room. You were levitating, attempting to pray, but opened your eyes.

“What is it?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows at the blood smeared all over her face.

“Alexander is in trouble; he wandered off while we were hunting and came across a few other vampires, they followed him here and they're much stronger than the others, please do something,” she said, her voice filled with urgency. Nodding, you let your feet touch the ground, before following her.

Just as the door opened, you could see the vampires surrounding your coven, taunting them. Lifting from the ground, with only a flick of your finger, fire sparked around them, making them confusing look around looking up at you.

“Get away from them,” you warned them.

“You and your coven are in claimed territory, you’ve been here for months and haven't made your presence known,” one of the vampires spoke, his back had been turned to you the entire time.

“Careful,” Cassia spoke, you looked over at her. This was the first time seeing her in over seven months.

“I do not answer to other vampires,” you told him, going back to the ground, as he began to turn around.

Fire appeared in his hand, making you do the same, and just as he faced you, both of you froze. His eyes widened, while you shook your head in disbelief. Your heart was racing, goosebumps on your skin, as you stared at this beautiful creature. Your heart was reaching out to him, yearning to be loved and cherished by him, he was your soulmate.

“Enough, let them go,” he spoke to his coven, making them look at him confused.

“We can't just-

“Enough,” he raised his voice, and immediately they stopped, moving away.

Your coven slowly came to you, each of them bowing their heads at you. Alexander looking the most apologetic.

“I am sorry, my lord,” he started.

“You have done nothing wrong,” you reassured him.

“I am Armand, What is your name?” the man spoke, making your eyes shift back to him. As much as you knew for sure he was your soulmate, you refused to give in. To be used for his personal pleasures, like Cassia.

“That is none of your concern,” you said, and immediately he was in front of you. His eyes softened, reaching for your hand, but you took it away.

“You are my soulmate,” he started.

“And if I wasn't, what would have happened? You threatened my coven and me, I am quick to forgive, try again another time,” you spat, turning away, your coven following.

“You're just letting them leave,” Santiago asked, frowning.

“Yes, for now, we must go, the sun will be out soon,” he said, walking toward their bikes.

“Why would you deny him, deny yourself love?” Cassia asked.

“The sun will be out within the next hour,” you announced.

“You would rather be alone, and sulk until you die”

“Stop talking,” you muttered.

“You have followed in my footsteps with your selfishness”

“Cassia shut up,” you yelled, as your coven members shared looks of concern, seeing you yell at what seemed to be nothing.

“Everyone to your coffins,” you said, clearing your throat and going to your room.

“It is not my intention to hurt you, my love, but I don't want you to do this to yourself. If you could have seen from another perspective how he looked at you, he didn't want to harm you, if he comes back, give him a chance, please, for the both of us,” she told you, holding your cheek, before disappearing.

Going to your coffin, you blocked everyone out as they talked among themselves. Whispering questions, and ideas. As the sun came up, you fell asleep easily, all of them leaving your mind as you gave in to the well-needed rest.

Just as the moon covered the sky, you opened your eyes at the sound of a knock on the front door. Getting out of your coffin, you began to leave the room. You could see Demetrius at the door, it was only cracked, but you knew who stood on the other side.

“If I may speak with your leader”

“I don't think that is a-

“It is okay, Demetrius,” you told him, watching as he bowed, opening the door more to reveal him, holding a bouquet of roses.

“Are you sure?”

“I am, thank you,” you said.

“Good boy,” the youthful man said, tauntingly, while Demetrius slowly walked away, growling at him, as he disappeared into his room, as you approached the door.

“Is there something I can help you with?” you asked.

“You told me to try again another time, these are for you,” he said, holding out the flowers for you to take.

“I didn't think you would come so soon,” you said, making them fly across the room, landing on the nearby table.

“You are my soulmate, I couldn't go another moment knowing you are out there, away from me. I apologize for my coven and my behavior, we have been aware of your people for some time now, waiting for any of you to reveal yourselves,” he said.

“I too am at fault, I sensed the presence of another older vampire, but I didn't realize you would be so close,” you admitted, you couldn't decide if it felt odd or refreshing, as he stared into your eyes, nodding after each word that came from your mouth.

“Fate has a way of working, come with me, somewhere more private,” he said, holding out his hand. Hesitantly, you accepted his hand, exiting the house. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he lifted from the ground, flying through the sky.

He didn't stop until he was at the famous art museum, freezing security, slowly lowering to the ground. As your cold feet touched the floor, his hand went from your waist to your hand, leading you up the stairs.

“Your coven, they worship you as if you are their god, Y/n, it took a lot of digging to find out your name,” he started.

“They have convinced themselves I am some sort of saint for the damned, I have denied the title, but now I think they have simply chosen to be loyal to me,” you shrugged.

“And your faithful servant, Demetrius?” he asked in a tone you didn't like.

“What about him?”

“He is only your devout worshipper? He seemed to care-

“He is loyal, but if we had anything going on, it wouldn't be any of your business-

“Y/n, don't act like that,” Cassia appeared.

“Would you be quiet,” you started, but froze, realizing you spoke to her, in front of Armand.

“Are you…alright, darling?” he asked, glancing at you.

“My maker insists on haunting me, to make up for her mistakes,” you confessed.

“Her mistakes….”

“She thought I could potentially be her soulmate, so she turned me, but when she realized I would eventually meet my soulmate, she went into the sun,” you said, as you focused on the artwork along the walls.

“I’m sorry”

“Centuries, I have been alone, honored but unknown to my coven, it was her, who had convinced me to come to Paris”

“Then I should be thanking her, for bringing you to me,” he smiled, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

“Armand, I can’t be with you, I hardly know you-

“You and I, we are more alike than you think, untrusting, hurt, a wall built around us, in hopes of protecting what was once wounded. I’m not asking for you to jump out of your comfort zone, but rather, I’d like to invite you to visit my theatre. You have to get to know someone to decide if they are worthy of being trusted,” he said, making you glance over at him.

This beautiful man, your soulmate, the deepest parts of your soul pleaded to give into his words. Fall into his embrace and exchange your love, but the emotional scars held you back.

Clearing your throat, you walked away from him, towards the next piece of art. “I’ll think about it,” you said, hearing his small chuckle, before he followed behind you.

“Where did you reside, before coming to Paris?” He asked, making you slightly frown.

“Why?”

“I’m only curious to know more about you, your background, how did a woman as beautiful as you, become a coven leader, with such powerful gifts,” he said.

“I could say the same, you look very young, how old were you?” you asked him.

“Ladies first,” he smirked. Looking into his eyes with a straight face, you searched for deception, any reason to not trust him, but you could find none. His body language was completely defenseless and open to you. Sighing, you opened your mouth, starting from the beginning, you shared your story with him.

From the windows, you could feel the eyes of your coven members. Lowering to the ground, with Armand, you held on comfortably, as the two of you continued talking.

The coven couldn’t deny how different you already seemed. This was the most they’d ever seen you speak, occasionally laughing at whatever the man had said. The sun would be out in less than an hour and here you stood out in the open, with the mysterious man.

“You should go, the sun will be out soon, and my coven, they are watching us”

“Intensely,” he agreed, making you snicker.

“You look so beautiful when you smile,” he continued, watching as you bit down on your lip.

“I have to go,” you said. Turning to leave, he reached for your hand, stopping you. Pulling the card from his pocket, he slipped it into your fingers.

“Come to the theatre, you and your coven,” he smiled.

“Sleep well, Armand,” you told him, walking away. You could feel the wind blow, as he flew into the sky.

Entering the house, your mood changed, seeing your coven shift their eyes from you. You knew it was out of respect, but you saw them as equals, and this was growing tiring.

“If any of you are up for it, we have been invited to Théâtre des Vampires, I’ll be going tomorrow,” you told them.

“And if you expect to blend in, then there will be no bowing or titles, we are going to enjoy ourselves, save your worship,” you said, turning to go upstairs.

“My lord,” you heard, as you were about to enter your bedroom.

“Yes,” you turned, facing Marianne.

“He’s your soulmate, isn't he?” she asked, a small smile, on her face.

“I’m afraid so,” you said lowly.

“Give him a chance, you deserve to be adorned with love and kisses. Just looking at him, I’m sure your heart flutters tremendously,” she said.

“Is that how you feel about Alexander?”

“From the moment I looked into his eyes, I fell in love, and it hasn't faltered since then, please, you deserve this,” she said, for the first time, meeting your eyes differently. Not as a devout worshipper, but a friend.

“Get some rest, Marianne,” you smiled at her, turning to leave her, going into your room.

“She’s right, you know,” Cassia spoke, as soon as the door shut.

“I thought you were done for the night,” you told her, as you removed your clothing, changing into your pajamas.

“I will be leaving you soon,” she smiled, looking down at her hands, two wedding rings decorated her finger.

“Giving me another break?”

“For good,” she said, as you snapped your head her way.

“What do you mean?”

“You have found your soulmate, you may not see it now, but Armand is persistent, and he loves hard. You will give in to his love, and finally, this void within you will be filled. Meaning, my work is done,” she smiled, a bloody tear dropping from her eye.

“Where will you go?”

“I am damned, so I would assume hell, not that it matters,” she laughed, bitterly.

“You don't have to do that, you can stay-

You began to protest, coming up with possibilities, while she stood, shaking her head. Approaching you, you began to cry quietly. You held a resentment towards her, yet you couldn't deny how much she meant to you, at this moment.

“You don't have to go,” you whispered.

“I may be damned, but I’ve done well with you, my greatest creation, my love, my angel — you make the dark gift shine beautifully in the night. You will always be the best thing that happened to me. All I ask is that you live, and continue to flourish, no matter what. No more dungeons, starving yourself, isolating from the world, do you understand?” she asked, smiling sadly, as you nodded.

“Yes,” you managed to speak.

“As much as I’d love to savor your lips, I will save them for your soulmate. Even when I’m not here anymore, I will live on through you. My blood flows in you, leaving a small piece of me with you, for an eternity. Goodbye, my sweet y/n,” she said, slowly fading. As she completely disappeared, you noticed the teardrop blood stain, right where she stood. Proof that she hadn't been part of your imagination, but actually with you, throughout the years.

Opening your coffin, your mind shifted between Armand and Cassia. Love. You still didn't what it was, but perhaps he could be the one to show you — with Cassia gone, what did you truly have to lose?

“We're trying to assimilate and these pricks are blatantly doing this, acting like it's a play,” you could hear Demetrius grumble, as you all sat, attempting to watch the play. The play that you all quickly realized, was one, terrible, and two, their way of killing humans in front of other humans.

“Exactly, but these mortals are just as pathetic because they find it scary,” Jonah laughed, as the curtain closed. The young girl could still be heard screaming, her voice growing faint.

“I see him,” Marianne bumped your shoulder, making you look over. He sat in a booth, facing you, and as soon as you met his eyes, he smiled. You almost returned the gesture, but instead, you kept a straight face, making his face falter for a moment.

Turning back towards the stage, you listened to Jonah, Demetrius, and Alexander go on about how terrible the play was, going as far as making jokes about the actors. You could feel his gaze, but you ignored it, watching as humans began to leave the theater.

“That was almost two hours of my life wasted,” Alexander whined to Marianne.

“Look who decided to show his face,” the familiar man spat, standing in front of you all, his eyes on Alexander.

“He doesn't want any problems with you,” you told him, as his eyes sharply shifted to you.

“Their dear coven leader, you have all of them afraid of you, but perhaps it's because you haven't met your equal, or someone stronger,” he hissed at you, as you stood up.

“Is that supposed to be you?” you tilted your head, fire sparking from your fingers.

“Enough, Santiago,” Armand spoke up. The man rolled his eyes, but obeyed his orders, backing away from you. The action seemed to catch the attention of all of his coven members, as they stopped what they were doing to watch the scene unfold.

“Y/n is my soulmate, disrespect to her is disrespect to me, and it will not be tolerated. Do I make myself clear?” he raised his voice, and many of the members nodded in agreement. Santiago remained quiet when Armand grabbed him, choking him.

“Do you understand, Santiago?” he asked him, watching him struggle to nod, muttering an embarrassed, “Yes”.

“Good,” he shoved him away, his eyes moving to you.

“Come,” he held out his hand to you, watching as you slowly accepted it.

Looking down at your hands, his fingers intertwined with your own, you looked back at your coven. They smiled excitedly, Jonah giving you a thumbs up.

“I was surprised you came, what did you think of the play?”

“It was awful, but in a good way, I guess. I enjoyed the ending,” you said, laughing at his surprised expression.

“At least you're honest,” he sighed, his thumb brushing against your hand.

“I thought of you throughout the night, I hoped that you would show up,” he admitted, as he led you in the direction of the park.

“Yeah”

“All I wanted was to see your beautiful face again or smell your scent. I’ve never met any-

“Armand, this is difficult for me. I haven't experienced this kind of passion, for over half of my vampiric life. I didn't know how to love, or what it even means to,” you told him, but he only shook his head.

“Do you feel the same way, when you look at me? As if time stops, the compelling force to do or be anything your soulmate wants, as long as they will have you. The elation of just looking at your soulmate, because they look nothing but perfect in your eyes, do you feel this way too?” he asked, relief when you hesitantly nodded.

Pulling you closer, his eyes shifted from your lips to your eyes. He seemed a bit hesitant, making you think of Cassia and Marianne. Their words replayed in your mind, you thought of the same saying from the previous night, what did you truly have to lose?

Standing on your toes, your lips pressed against his own, immediately, his arms were around your waist. Moaning into the kiss, you could feel the almost static connection between the two of you, just as your skin touched for a kiss.

“I-I want this, but I’m not ready,” you told him, feeling guilty, as you pulled away.

“There is no rush, as long as you remain close, we can take as much time as you need,” he said, holding your hand, and placing a kiss on it.

“And our covens?”

“They will learn to coexist, or they are free to leave,” he shrugged.

“I think we should get back, and maybe share this information with them,” you said.

“Anything you say,” Amrnand said, holding your hand, as he led you back to the theatre.

On your back way, you passed through the market, a young girl catching for attention. She stood next to a tent, holding a sign, in front of a crate of apples.

“Would you like an apple, mademoiselle?” she asked, reminding you of Cassia.

“I-no thank you,” you smiled, before looked back at you in confusion.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes, we should hurry back,” you said to him, as he continued walking, pulling you close, leading you back the the theatre.

An eternity, you had an eternity with your soulmate. You could see now, that you would enjoy his company, he was protective, considerate, and kind. An eternity of being with Armand, perhaps then you would could finally begin to learn what it meant, to be loved.

i had to end it here bc y'all know i would go on and on 😂

#interview with the vampire #armand x reader #amc iwtv #amc armand #armand the vampire

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revolu · 2 days

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I'm dropping (a bit old) john laurens yap here. Please correct anything you must + provide the source.

and we know very limited about John but whatever !!

Laurens was described by Hamilton to have honey blonde hair when clean. His hair was generally said to be light brown/blonde. As seen on portraits, he had soft features, blue eyes, and a big nose. He was described to be very handsome, and IMO I agree!! We don't know exactly how tall he was, but he was most likely over 6 feet. One day before Laurens' 15th birthday, his father wrote to James Grant; ''my Little Jack, now as big as I am...'' (Jack being John's nickname). We don't know Henry Laurens' height, but if he was as tall as Henry at 15, he certainly grew to be taller. In 1778, Henry wrote to John ''A Taylor has cut off as much of your Scarlet as will make he says a Wascoat for 6 feet 3 inches...'' which suggests that John could have been 6'3. It's not clear what exactly Henry means in the letter but as said, John was probably over 6 feet. Laurens was one of the strongest abolitionists of the time despite coming from one of the bigger slave plantations and growing up where slavery was normal. John could speak English, French, Italian, Greek, Spanish and Latin. We know that he was fluent in English and French but we don't know about his fluency in the other languages.

Laurens got Martha Manning pregnant and ended up marrying her out of pity (supposedly to protect her reputation too and to keep illegitimacy of their child.) He wrote to his uncle ''...Pity has obliged me to marry...'', When Laurens left for war, he left his pregnant wife in another country. When John was chosen by congress to be a special minister to France and had him travel there, Martha traveled with their daughter to reconnect with him upon hearing about his arrival in France. But John supposedly made no effort whatsoever to visit them; he completed his mission and went back to America. Martha later died during the trip and their daughter, Frances, was sent to live with her aunt.

John Laurens is believed to have been gay... The man didn't seem to express any attraction towards women, though I think his sexist beliefs played a role in this, as well as his lack of effort to humble his wife. His letters to Alexander Hamilton, and Francis Kinloch also suggest he had an eye for men... ESPECIALLY Kinloch's and his correspondence.

Henry Laurens wrote ''Master Jack is too closely wedded to his studies to think about any of the Miss Nanny's''. But it's important to note that he was a teenager at that time and not every teen develops those feelings at the same time. But I would imagine that since he was as tall as his father at 15, he was early in puberty... Romantic/sexual feelings usually come with puberty, but what do we know? Anyways. John expressed a lot of sexist opinions, even towards his own sisters, which can be read in letters. Most men were sexist, but John seemed to be more ''strict'' on the subject... This definitely plays a part in his supposed ''homosexuality''.

John hid the fact that he had a wife and child from Hamilton for nearly two years. Why? The reason is unknown. It's only up to debate. My guess is that he just wanted to try to ''forget'' them in some way, seeing as he literally left them... Why would you bring up that you have a family that you abandoned? But maybe it was because he never found the right time to tell him, or was it to get a better chance with Hamilton? We will never know, sadly. But what we DO know, is that Laurens referred to his wife as ''dear girl'', and Hamilton, and supposedly ONLY Hamilton, as ''Dear boy''. We know for a fact that Hamilton was close to Laurens and was special to him, but why did he call his wife that? Out of pity? He didn't necessarily show any real attraction towards her... But whatever the reason is, it's kinda cute.

We know that Henry Laurens was emotionally manipulative of John, which is like read in letters... So there is no denying that, really. BUT John was close to his father, attachment issues tsk, tsk tsk... But jokes aside, when John told his father that he wasn't super interested in becoming a lawyer or merchant like his father wanted, Henry wrote this to his brother; ''if he enters upon the plan of Life which he Seemed to pant for when he wrote the 5th. July, I Shall give him up for lost & he will very Soon reproach himSelf for his want of Duty & affection towards me, for abandoning his Brothers & Sisters, for disregarding the Council of his Uncle, & for his deficiency of common understanding, in making Such a choice_ if these reflections prevail not over him, nothing will_ he must have his own way & I must be content with the remembrance, that I had a Son.'' Basically, Henry said he would disown John if he pursued his interests in medicine. So, John ended up becoming a lawyer/statesman to please his father. There are more examples of John trying to please his father, but let's not take that now... HOWEVER, after John had died, Henry wrote of him in response to John Adams' letter; ''Thank God I had a Son who dared to die in defence of his Country'' ... We get a lot of mixed signals from Henry... Though I do believe he loved him, at least somewhat.., even if he was controlling/manipulative. Henry wasn't too nice to his other children either, but since this is about John I'm not gonna talk about that.

John's brother James died at the age of 9-10 (1765-1775)

James, or Jemmy, was supposedly scaling the outside of their house and tried to jump to the landing outside of John’s window but fell. He received life threatening injuries and cracked his skull. The doctors had figured that the injuries were too severe to save him and John described it to his uncle four days later; "At some Intervals he had his senses, so far as to be able to answer single Questions, to beckon to me, and to form his Lips to kiss me, but for the most part he was delirious, and frequently unable to articulate. Puking, Convulsions never very violent, and latterly so gentle as scarcely to be perceived, or deserve the Name, ensued, and Nature yielded."

Since John was supposed to watch over James during this time, John felt guilty and as if it was his fault. James' death was very difficult for John, and it weighed heavily on him.

Henry did little to alleviate those feelings of guilt, which suggests that he either didn't care enough, or that a part of him also blamed John. (I am not saying he 100% did, but it would not be surprising if he so did, considering how he treated John.)

He could also have been in too much grief to console John... Which, as said, would not be too surprising considering his treatment of John. But nevertheless, he did not do much to help John and John's guilt.

TW: mentions of suicide.

It is highly speculated that John was suicidal. We have a couple of written exchanges where John discusses suicide with friends and family. In February 1774, John wrote to Henry Laurens about two men who had attempted suicide. We don't have the whole letter, but here is a part of Henry's response; ''...But, my Dear Son, I trust that your opinion on that Question is So firm, that you are armed with Such irrefragable proofs of the Impiety as well as Cowardice of Self Murther, as puts you out of danger of being made a Convert to Error...'' (Not gonna put all of it). Another time, when John was a prisoner of war and didn't handle imprisonment well, Hamilton wrote to John ''For your own sake, for my sake, for the public sake, I shall pray for the success of the attempt (of being exchanged) you mention; that you may have it in your power to act with us. But if you should be disappointed, bear it like a man; have recourse, neither to the dagger, nor to the poisoned bowl, nor to the rope.'' It is clear that Hamilton (and Henry, despite how he treated John) were worried about John's thoughts of suicide. John's last letter to Hamilton was probably one of the, if not the, most emotional. He wrote ''Adieu, my dear friend; while circumstances place so great distance between us, I entreat you not to withdraw the consolation of your letters. You know the unalterable sentiments of your affectionate Laurens.'' John died about a month later. On the day of his death, John and his men surprised a troop of British soldiers that outnumbered them. Instead of retreating, John chose to immediately attack. He did not really actively end his own life, though it seems as if it was planned or that he was trying. Which is just sad. Also, it's not sure that Hamilton's last letter to Laurens ever got to him before he died. (In that letter he tells John to quit his sword and come to congress with Hamilton)

I don't know what else to add actually but here you have it!! This is as accurate as I can get it, especially cause it's like mostly based on letters... Uhm. But yay!

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ihopesocomic · 1 day

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My Pride is weird bc the gore for shock value is really the only thing "adult" about it. As far as plot and characters and themes it fits right in with YA xenofiction - yes, even "mature themes" like abuse and oppression are often covered in children's media like Wings of Fire and AtLA, that's not exclusive to adults. I feel like MP was actually intended for the same type of audience, but they added the unserious bobblehead disclaimers at the last minute bc they realized angry parents might come after them if their kids watched a Lion King-style YouTube video that turned out to be super violent and bloody.

Its really hard to tell who the audience for MP was outside of "people who were already fans of Tribble's warrior cat/cotw content". Can't be for children, cuz there's warnings (well "warnings" in the form of cute widdle bobbleheads with little fun quips from the characters)

Like is this for teens? I mean I know teens like a lot of crappy stuff (not me tho, I've always had impeccable taste /sarcasm)

Is this for adults? Cuz the messaging and writing is almost unfathomably immature. The messaging was so bad, people still don't understand what's so "problematic" about it. They think RJ and I are just mad because ableism and homophobia is in it. Like why do we have to keep explaining things to people. If people used their brains, or consumed literally anything else, they'd arrive to the conclusion themselves. After all a ton of the opinions we expressed in our video were already expressed by lots of other people beforehand and they didn't need us to tell them what to think lol

Even the violence was immature, which I can say because I love me some creative violence in my movies/shows. There's science behind violence, so you'd think a show that prides itself as being a "more mature Lion King" and believing itself to have a more realistic portrayal of lions, it would have realistic violence, but nope.

The violence in this show is sometimes hilariously censored, like for some reason Barkmane's body was completely blurred out when they had no qualms about showing Starmane and Quickmane's body, their injuries were not even indicative to anything based in reality

Karabi's throat was slashed open and her voice actor was just groaning (not the voice actor's fault, this is the fault of the director) and I dunno, I feel like I've seen enough slasher films to know a convincing dying noise when I hear one, but I don't expect people working for me to know what that sounds like so as a director it would be my responsibility to... you know... direct.

And Sharptongue's death, like I still don't know what was supposed to even be wrong with her. She just started having a coughing fit and died off-screen.

AND YET MP somehow manages to be really fucked up in its mediocrity?? Because it just shrugs off child death like the characters do.

It's not like resources aren't out there, people have been posting videos of lions killing each other on youtube for years lol

"Adult shows" that are easily outshined by kids shows in maturity are fascinating to me, and they're more commonplace and I don't know why. At least two other "adult shows" have so little respect for the intelligence of their audience that they put in a shit ton of information that adults get mad when they have to think about things. And/or they are so embarrassingly safe it's almost like they're made specifically to cater to kids.

I mean the fuckin Lion King straight-to-video sequel had an effective abusive family dynamic, so what's the excuse here exactly. (I mean I know the answer, it's because Tribble pulled heavily from Warrior Cats and didn't improve upon it.) - Cat

#ask #ask us stuff #cat answers #my pride mention

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ace-and-ranty · 1 day

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Hi your scholomance opinions are So correct I finished the golden enclaves a little while back and your Liesel opinions and alliance opinions are So correct. Your honor theyre QPRs

Thank you so much friend!! They ARE QPRs!!! And I should talk about that more!!!

Like, it's only a single line in The Golden Enclaves, but it is very much supported by everyone's attitudes throughout the series: that for indie kids, "Alliance" seems to be its own category of relationship, separate from "friendship"; "family"; or "romantic".

It's something akin to trauma bonding, and something akin to marriage, and similar to our own concept of queerplatonic, and, in the end, its own discrete category. Which makes sense, right, because "the people that saved my life from the trauma conga line of hell" would be significant people in your life.

So there's all these social rules around it. That breaking up an alliance is fine, but ditching your allies makes you a dick. That it's the kind of relationship you announce to people, and then get congratulated for. That, in the Scholomance, it is not socially acceptable to share your wealth with friends, only with your partners, and with your alliance. That the relationship is expected to continue outside school.

It is fascinating, because you see how this operates in and out of school, with El's graduation allies (specially poor Aadhya, LOL) being treated as her representatives in negotiations; or how El is welcomed to Aadhya's home like Aad's introducing her boyfriend; or how they fully expected Liu to drop her entire life and come to New York to help rescue El's boyfriend, and the only reason Liu didn't come is that a war was about to pop, and that when Liu needed space to recover after a big trauma, of course she went to stay with her ally's family, and how no one was surprised Aad was going out of her way to help El, but Liesel must be up to something.

#The Scholomance #also makes the Aad/Liesel conversation in the airport very funny #very 'WHAT ARE YOUR INTENTIONS WITH MY SISTER'

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dullgecko · 1 day

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I love a trans Riz moment and one of my headcanons is that goblin names are gendered by the number of syllables (Pok, Sprak, Riz all being one syllable, Sklonda being two).

And we all know that middle school Riz was Going Through It in terms of bullying so he was almost certainly also misgendered constantly by the other kids.

I think that’s part of why Sklonda is so against the other Bad Kids using nicknames for Riz because The Ball is two syllables and they’re accidentally misgendering Riz (according to goblin grammar) and she has had enough of other kids misgendering her son because they think it’s funny.

It’s also why Riz hates the multi-syllable nicknames like Rizbert and Rizwalda and keeps insisting it’s “just Riz”. But equally he also doesn’t want to come out. He’s sure it would be fine, but he doesn’t want to risk it just in case things go wrong. So he doesn’t know how to explain it so he doesn’t say anything, but it definitely hurts every time they do it.

(I think at some point he does deserve to snap at them though, as a treat).

(I’ve been trying to write a fic about this for ages but the words aren’t wording right, so I offer it up as a humble headcanon to be rotated in other peoples brains)

Goblin biology is different from humans or elves or even half-orcs. They're goblinoid not humanoid after all, their anatomy was different and their ancestors could be traced all the way back to the fae realms in eons past. Like with most creatures of the fae realms their relationship between their biological sex and gender is fairly loose, or more realistically practically non-existant. Hells, if you want to be a different biological sex the switch is incredibly quick and easy. Just go and talk to one of your hordes elders and with magic you'd be done within half and hour. Simple.

Riz grew up in Elmville though and Solesians tended to be weird about the whole thing. Sex and gender seemed to be intrinsically linked for some reason and, in order to naturalise better, goblins tended to stick with the gender that most-accurately reflected what was expected of their current biology.

Riz was six years old when he told his dad he didn't want to be a girl and that was that. A quick jaunt up to his families ancestral home, dinner and a minor name change and he was back in Elmville ready for school on Monday. It should have been as easy as that but even after explaining that he was a boy now the kids at his school just didn't seem to understand. They constantly kept calling him by his old name, some of the Helio kids even going so far as to corner him and preach at him about how what he'd done was evil. The bullying lasted for years and followed him all the way through middle school, only adding more ammunition to what he was already dealing with just by being a goblin in the first place.

He thought he'd managed to leave he worst of the bullying in the past when he finally made it to high-school. None of the kids who knew him in middle-school had come to Aguefort so no-one knew that he was a girl before. Just to make double sure though he made sure to dress the part. No one would call someone in a suit a girl, it was the most masculine outfit he could think of after all.

Honestly it was going better than expected. He did wince initially at the whole The Ball nickname but that was fine. His friends didn't know the multiple sylables were a thing in goblin, though his mom still drew her lips into a think line and glared whenever she heard Fabian call him that. They didn't even call him that in a teasing way anymore, it was more of a title so he felt like it didn't have the same kind of connotation.

At the moment though they were teasing him a little bit. It was all good-natured, someone having commented that the nickname Fabian still used for him was weird and they should really think of another one. They'd rotated through quite a few humerous titles but had somehow strayed dangerously into nicknames playing off his own name which he protested.

"Oh! What about Rizbert? Or Rizmothy." Fig waved her spoon towards the goblin, swallowing around mouth full of icecream even as Riz winced.

"Guys no. Just Riz is fine. Or The Ball. I dont mind The Ball. Plus you keep making my name longer aren't nicknames supposed to be short?" He clutched at the glass of his milkshake, claws tapping at the glass as he tried to get them to change the subject.

"Yeah but you cant go shorter than Riz so we need to think of something else." Kristen nudged her shoulder against their rogue, the height difference meaning she just bumpd him directly in the head which made him make a quiet 'ow' and rub his temple where she'd clocked him.

"What about Rizzy?"

"Guys seriously I don't-"

"Rizriz?"

"Please stop."

"Rizbian, no thats too close to Fabian."

"Kristen honestly I don't like-"

"Rizgug! No wait same issue as the Rizbian one. OH how about Rizik."

The goblins eyes narrowed down to thin slits as the last name was said, Riz baring his teeth and slamming his glass into the table with a loud bang that made his party members jump.

"It's just Riz." He spat, venom lacing the short sentence as he pulled his ears back and down. Kristen holding her hands up in front of her in a defensive posture even as the goblin grabbed his breifcase off the seat beside him and slid down under the table.

Riz duck between his party members legs, not able to hear them calling after him over the sudden roaring sound of his own blood in his ears, and stalking out of the diner without another word. Milkshake dripping onto the spot where he'd just been sitting because the glass had cracked when he slammed it down with too much force.

They'd tried to follow after him but it was basically impossible after he left their line of sight, the rogue was incredibly adept at not being seen when he didn't want to be and he really didn't want to be right now.

He managed to drive his party into a mild panic after only a few hours, the goblin marking himself as offline in their group chat and declining their calls after a few rings (including Fabians, which did not bode well considering how pissed off he'd been when he had stalked out). Adaine had even tried to skry on him, but his wisdom was high enough that he easily slapped down her attempt and sent her a single text message consisting of the word 'no' before turning his crystal off completely.

They'd ended up splitting up to search for him across the city, heading for any spots he might go and promising to fill eachother in if they spoted him. Fabian had been circling the town on the Hangman for a while by this point, squinting down alleyways as he passed just in case he could spot their sneaky party member down one of them.

He'd passed the Strongtower Appartments at least twice before he thought to check there as well. Sure, it was a far too obvious a spot but maybe The Ball HAD just gone home.

Fabian hopped off The Hangman outside the front of the apartments, patting its seat and telling it to continue circling and searching without him as he stepped inside. He knew where Riz's appartment was, hells he even had a key these days, so he head there directly and let himself in.

He probably should have knocked before just barging in though, given that there was a rather pissed off goblin woman currently sitting at the dining room table glaring daggers at him. "Ah. Apologies. I did not expect you to be home. Have you purchance seen The Ball recently?" He had paused, half-inside the apartment with his hand on the doornob and very nearly backed all the way out again when she somehow managed to look more annoyed when he spoke.

"I'm not going to confirm or deny if I've seen Riz recently." She put heavy emphasis on his name, ears flicking as she interwove her fingers on the table in front of her. "But, if you have come to apologise I may see fit to pass it along when I do see him."

"Pardon?" Fabians look of genuine confusion made Sklondas demeanour shift, ears flicking into a more curious position rather than the angry one they'd been settled in before.

"You're not here to apologise for deadnaming him?"

"Sorry I'm not following? We were having lunch and he got pissed off and stormed out. We were looking for him because well.... we were worried and he switched his crystal off." Fabian entered the apartment completely, letting the door swing shut behind him with a click as he stood awkwardly in the entrance area.

"You called him Rizik."

"Kristen called him Rizik." Fabian corrected her, noteing that the normally open door to Riz's bedroom was shut. "Fig mentioned that you didn't seem to like when we called him The Ball and was trying to find a new nickname. I recall that may have been among them."

Sklonda rubbed her hands over her face, heaving a sigh before tipping her head back to look towards the ceiling as if asking a higher power for help. "Don't use that name again. Didn't you know it would upset him?" "No?"

The goblin woman gave him a confused look, pushing back her chair and heading over to Riz's room to knock on the door. Cracking it open slightly and chattering at the person hidden inside in goblin before shutting it again.

"Goddamnit kid. How are they supposed to know if you don't tell them." She donked her forehead against the closed door before turning back to face the fighter.

"Look he's fine and home. Tell the others that but he doesn't want to see anyone at the moment. I think he's mostly feeling silly about getting so pissed at you all and storming off because you couldn't have known it would upset him." She pointed a finger at Fabian before waving for him to sit down at the table. The half-elf pulling out a chair and sitting down obediantly when directed to.

"The kids at his last school used to call him Rizik all the time and thats because it was his name. He shortened it when he told us he was a boy and I'm only telling you this because he said i could. Don't tell the others."

Fabians eye went a bit unfocused as he tried to process what he was being told, eyebrows shooting high on his forehead when he finally put it together. "TOLD you he was a boy.... So he wasn't before... Ah. Deadname. Understood. I'll.... inform the others that that particular nickname is completely off the table."

#fantasy high #riz gukgak #bad kids #fig faeth #fabian seacaster #kristen applebees #trans riz

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spectralscathath · 1 day

Text

Tour Guide to the Unexplained- A Gravity Falls Fanfiction

Chapter 2- Blue Light Fright Night

Stan and Ford didn’t expect much when getting shipped up to Gravity Falls to stay with estranged family. Not a party-hating ghost, not new friends and new enemies, and definitely not the Mystery Shack and their lying uncle who runs it. But with Ford’s smarts and Stan’s punching, there’s no mystery they can’t solve.

Ao3 Link

"I can't believe it," Ford scowled as he restocked the snowglobe shelf. Little mini Mystery Shacks mocked him as they sat beside glass-encased Waddleses. How did Grunkle Dipper even get question mark-shaped glitter for these? "Gnomes on our first day- then we don't see jack!"

"Maybe we fought the gnomes so well they told the rest of the forest to be scared of us?" Stan polished the body parts jars on the other side of the aisle.

"I think you're giving yourself too much credit."

"Hey-" Stan kicked him in the shin. Ford kicked back without thinking, focused on trying to get all the snowglobes lined up perfectly. "Maybe we're just looking in the wrong places? It's only been three days since gnome-pocalypse."

"We're not calling it 'gnome-pocalypse'. It was only a hundred or so gnomes. An apocalypse would require at least a thousand." He was rounding down as well.

"Fine. What are we gonna call it then?"

"Uh-"

"So are you guys coming to the party tonight?" Carla interrupted as she came around the corner, her nametag pinned to the front of her pink shirt and a flower in her hair.

"Party?" Ford looked at her, setting down the final snowglobe.

"Yeah!" Carla beamed and did a little dance in place, hopping from one foot to the other. "It's at the high school gym- the local sheriff sets up one every month for all the teens and it's super fun. You should totally come and meet all my friends- it'll be awesome!"

Ford's breath caught in his throat, an indescribable mixture of wonder and excitement filling him from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. A real invitation to a real party. They'd never had one before! And here Carla was, offering an invitation like they were normal . Like it didn't matter that Ford had six fingers and Stan had the school record for detentions.

"Yeah, we'll definitely be there!" He blurted out immediately, unwilling to let the opportunity of a lifetime slip by. "Wow, this is so exciting- Stanley, our first party!"

"Have you… never been to a party before?" Carla's face fell.

" Pfft - of course we have," Stanley jumped in, waving a hand. "He just means in Gravity Falls, yunno. Jersey parties are really different so-"

"Oh, totally. But get ready, a Gravity Falls party is gonna knock your socks off!" Carla was all smiles again. Ford could see the reason why Grunkle Dipper had her as a cashier, she had a very upbeat demeanour that seemed popular with the tourists. The way she talked to them, able to get them smiling and laughing and telling her stories about their travels, she made it look so easy. Like talking to people was easy. Ford wondered how she did it.

Maybe if he asked, she'd let him observe and record her interactions for science?

"Earth to Sixer-" Stanley poked him in the face and Ford spluttered, swatting at his hand. "You okay in there?"

'I'm fine!" Ford looked around and adjusted his glasses. "Where'd Carla go?"

"A tour finished so she's gone to do her charm offensive on getting them to buy junk," Stan shrugged. "Are you sure you want to go to a party?"

"Yeah!" Was that even a question? "Don't you? Why did you lie to Carla? We've never been invited anywhere before."

"Listen, Fordsy," Stanley put an arm around his shoulders. "When people invite you to do stuff you haven't done, you gotta pretend you have, or else they'll think 'wow, what kinda losers are those guys, never going to parties'. You wanna be in the in-crowd, go along with the popular decision if you don't wanna stand out."

"How do you know that?" Ford scrunched his nose. It seemed unnecessarily complicated, wouldn't honesty be the best policy in any conversation?

"Just makes sense," Stan shrugged. "Now Carla won't be thinking, 'those guys must be lame', she'll be thinking we're cool dudes back home."

"But we're not?"

"Yeah, but you shouldn't say that." Stan patted his back. "Do you really wanna go?"

"Of course! This is a chance to meet the wider population of Gravity Falls, and I bet with all the anomalies in this area, I won't even be the weirdest thing anyone's seen today!" He'd always wanted to go to a party. Like a regular kid. Maybe Gravity Falls wasn't so bad.

"You're not weird," Stan scowled. "If any of them give you trouble I'll hit them."

"Stanley, mom said one week. You still have three more days." Ford reminded him.

"Blegh-" Stanley stuck out his tongue. "Now we just gotta convince Grunkle Dipper to let us go."

"Why would we need to convince him? Surely he'll understand how important this is to our preteen social development."

"Not a chance." Dipper didn't even look up from the pasta sauce he was stirring.

"What?!" They yelled in unison, Ford looking like all his dreams crashed and burned and Stan slamming his hands on the kitchen table. He hid a wince. Toughen up, Stan. Be a man.

"It's a cop party, no nephews of mine are going to a cop party."

"Grunkle Dipper, do you have something against cops?" Stan had to ask.

"I didn't agree to more questions."

So the answer was a yes. Cool.

"But Grunkle Dipper-" Ford whined. "We've never been to a party before and we told Carla we'd be there. Please?"

"Okay, here's the thing." Dipper turned around and pointed his pasta spoon at them, pajama pants and a threadbare sweater on. It was silly. It had a puppy on it. "Grenda throws these parties once a month for all the teens in town, and because everyone's kids are there, all the townsfolk treat it as a social event. It's loud, annoying, and seriously not worth your time."

"But we could be party rocking in the house tonight." Ford said it with all the sincerity in his soul and Stan wanted to know how his nerd of a brother had found out about songs that weren't from the 1700s or whenever.

"What?" Dipper's face scrunched before he shook it off and went back to mixing pasta sauce and spaghetti. "Let me explain: I don't 'like' or 'trust' most of the people in this town, and the feeling's pretty mutual. Why don't you just have a party here? This is a house, it can- it can 'party rock'."

"Can we invite people?" Ford perked up.

"No."

"Grunkle Dipper!"

Stan hid a snort-laugh as he watched, studying Dipper more so than Ford, head tilted to make sure he didn't miss anything. There had to be a magic word of some sort to get him to agree. He didn't trust the townspeople, hey?

"If you don't like anyone here-" he cut off Ford's rant about the 'psychosocial development of twelve-year-old brains' before it really got going- "then the smartest option is to bring us into town when everyone's gonna be there." Stan shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world, playing up the casualness.

Dipper looked at him with suspicion. "What's your game, kid?"

"That way you can point out who to avoid and who we should keep an eye on so we can recognise them. I mean, we're gonna need to go into town eventually, might as well get it over with."

"... Alright, that's not a bad point." Dipper nodded, brow furrowed. Stan gave him an absolutely angelic smile, well practiced for when mom busted out the camera for family photos, and Dipper's brows furrowed harder.

"So can we go? Carla invited us as well, it would look bad if we went back on our word. And you said you wanted us to have a good summer."

"Okay, okay, okay." Dipper groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, serving up three plates of spaghetti as he joined them at the table. "You can go, but if Sheriff Grenda asks about me, tell her I'm dead or whatever."

"Yes!" Stan punched the air. "Yes!"

"What?! How is that the conclusion of this?" Ford looked stunned, mouth hanging open.

"Your brother drives a hard bargain, kid," Dipper pointed with a plastic spork. All his cutlery was plastic and Stan thought it was weird, no metal, no forks. But it was the durable, colourful kind used for camping. "Eat your pasta and we'll get this over with."

Stan shoveled the pasta into his mouth, enjoying the taste of victory. Whaddaya know, for once Stan got them the win. That was never gonna happen again.

Ford's excitement only grew as they drove into town, staring out the window and trying to see anomalies in the dark. Stan kicked the back of the empty passenger seat and tossed his head back with a groan. "Why are we listening to BABBA?"

"Because I love this song." Grunkle Dipper turned it up a notch and sang along, badly. Ford winced at the falsetto of "Dis-co Girl! Coming through! That girl is you!"

"Get me outta here!" Stan's next kick used both feet. "If you're listening, save me, Paul Bunyan!"

"Calm down, Stanley, we're almost there!" Ford could see all the cars parked outside the high school, and a giant RV with GIDEON across the side that towered over everything else. "What's that?"

"First people in this town you need to avoid: Gideon Gleeful and his lil b-" Dipper growled, cutting himself off before continuing- "Bud Gleeful. Gideon's the worst, they're just a creepy pair. Just got back from touring America with their fake psychic act."

"Okay." A fake psychic. Just like their mom. Ford missed her, she promised she'd call every week but it didn't feel like enough. "Anyone else?"

"Preston Northwest is about your age and a piece of work?"

"I thought you'd have more enemies." Stan grinned mischievously.

"Those are just the child ones." Dipper hooked an elbow over his seat and looked back as he reversed into a parking space, wearing one of the baseball caps from the gift shop with a pine tree logo. His denim jacket and pajama pants clashed terribly with his 'dog playing basketball' sweater. Ford hadn't seen him wear the same sweater twice, but they all looked decades old, handknitted, and far too irrational for him. Perhaps he had some ancient sweater collection?

"How many adult enemies are there?" Stan unclipped his seatbelt as the truck stopped.

"Don't you have a party to go to?" Dipper waved a hand at them. "Have fun and don't die or something. I'll be here when you want to leave."

"Thanks, Grunkle Dipper!" They chorused and hopped out, Stan racing around to Ford's side of the truck.

"You ready?" He took Ford's hand for a second, and Ford snatched it back, trying not to think about his hands. It was gonna be fine, this wasn't Jersey. People here would like him.

"Race you in?" He offered instead, shoving his hands into his pockets just in case.

"You're on." Stan grinned and took off. He might have been better at punching, but they were both pretty fast from a childhood of dodging bullies. Usually it was a tie.

This time Ford got there first by mere seconds and paused, able to feel the thud of the music inside in his ribcage. Of course- soundwaves were physical, that only made sense. He was about to lift his hand from his pocket before hesitating. His first party. Did he want to start off with a bad impression?

Stan caught up and pushed open the door. "After you, Sixer."

Ford smiled gratefully at him, stepping in as the smell of dry ice and cheese flavouring hit him. The gym was big, all the bleachers tucked away, and while there was no disco ball, someone had set up projector lights that sent rainbow shapes and lazers everywhere. The room was surprisingly full, and Ford had a sinking feeling they arrived late. "Were we meant to be here earlier?"

"Don't worry- it's cool to arrive late, I heard." Stanley stuck by his side as they stood in the doorway. "Should we find Carla? She's the only person we know here, I think."

Ford had a thought. A bit of a mean thought. Did he want his first impression on people to be Stanley as well? Not that Stanley was bad, Ford loved his brother more than anything, but his nicknames might give people the wrong idea, and the other way around- Maybe Stan would want to meet people without having to talk for Ford as well?

"We can split up, do a sweep on each side, and meet on the other end of the gym." He felt guilty saying it, but he couldn't help being interested in what would happen if he made introductions on his own for once. It was an experiment.

"See who spots her first so we can talk to her, good idea." Stanley nodded. "Race you there."

He took off through the crowd to the right, leaving Ford to his own business and taking the other. He didn't move as fast as Stanley, keeping his hands in his pockets as he avoided the major crowd and skirted the edges. His head swivelled like an owl's as he looked around, trying to see anyone who might be safe to talk to.

He saw something sparking near the wall and immediately remembered the various dangers of electrical hazards, resolving to check it and report it to the nearest grown-up- oh, but if that was Sheriff Grenda, Grunkle Dipper said not to talk to her-

Ford didn't really want to do what Dipper said, but… what if he got angry at them for disobeying?

More sparks. He blinked, regaining his focus, and sped up, noticing they were tucked beside the folded bleachers, hard for people in the crowd to see, hidden by the fog of dry ice.

There was someone there. Two someones. Ford drew closer, in time to see a blowtorch light up and be lowered to a piece of metal.

"What are you doing?" He blurted out, the two teenagers looking at him. It was hard to make out clear details in the dark hall, but the one leaning against the wall held a plastic bag of sliced bread, and the boy on the floor had a welding visor over his face.

"Hi there!" The boy stood and flipped his welding mask up, revealing round glasses, a thin face, a long nose, and a friendly smile. "I'm Fiddleford McGucket, local inventor."

"You're an inventor?" Ford smiled. "Me too! I mean- I'm branching out into the field, I'm currently working on a magnet gun."

"Well that sounds mathematically feasible, I reckon." Fiddleford offered a hand to shake, absolutely covered in bandages.

Ford stared at it. "Uh- won't that hurt if I touch it?"

"I've got an un-nat-ur-al-ly high tolerance to pain, doctors say," he laughed, singsonging each syllable in a playful Tennessee twang. "Don't mind the bandages, all from my thingamajig building."

Ford hesitated just a moment longer before he pulled his hand from his pocket and shook Fiddleford's hand.

"Why, that is a mighty fine case of polydactyly you got there." Fiddleford complimented.

"Th- thanks." He stuttered, in utter shock. No one had ever actually complimented him on it before. Most people didn't even know the term. "You too- I mean- not polydactyly, just thanks?"

"Thank you kindly, and this here's my friend, Tad."

"Hi, I'm Tad Strange." The deepness of the other boy's voice had Ford reeling. Was that natural? He looked barely older than Ford, with shiny black hair and very neat clothes. He had to be the most nondescript person Ford had ever seen. "Would you like some bread?"

"Uh- okay?" Ford took some of the offered bread. Plain white sliced, from a grocery store. Was he meant to eat this without anything on it? Well- okay, he could try. "Do you carry this everywhere?"

"Of course. It's my emergency bread."

"Oh. Cool?" It didn't seem normal, but maybe it was for Gravity Falls? His hypothesis was correct, he was an anomaly in a town of anomalies! He could fit in here! "I like your voice."

"Thank you." Tad smiled. Ford liked his diction, how deliberately he spoke, how even his voice was. It seemed so calm. "It broke when Tad Strange was seven."

"If we're talking about weird body things, I'm double-jointed?" Fiddleford offered and pulled out a pair of black goggles, a matching pair to the ones Tad had pushed up into his dark hair, hard to see. "Here, put these on, I'm working on improving Tad's phone. I reckon I can really spruce it up."

"Tad Strange would like jetpack capabilities."

"Yeah! I'd love to help!" Ford's smile was so wide it hurt at the edges, so excited he feared he may explode. Not that it was scientifically possible.

Was this how easy making friends could be?

Stan plunged into the crowd like a superhero charged through henchmen, keeping his head cocked in case he heard Ford get in trouble. He had to be always ready for bullies, Ford could have all the hope he wanted, as long as Stanley protected him.

He squinted through the dark, not able to see too much in the weird party lights, lots of pinks and blues and kinda dark. He didn't really like his glasses much when he had to wear them, they were nerdy and made bullies throw stuff at him. He could see most things anyway, just blurry, and as long as he could get the gist he could work with the rest. 'Sides, no point in him having glasses anymore, amount of fights he got in.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and he swung without thinking, catching air. Carla's laugh was bright and cheery. "Easy, tiger! Didn't mean to surprise you."

"Sorry." Stan mumbled. He wasn't as noble as some of the boys back home, who didn't hit girls. Seemed insulting to Stan, if they wanted to fight they should get to fight. But Carla wasn't like the girls back home, he didn't want to hit her.

"C'mon, my friends are this way." Carla took his hand and pulled him through the crowd. Her hand was warm around his, and she didn't even hesitate. Known him four days and still took his hand. Wow, she was nice.

She pulled him to the snacks table, piled high with chips and chocolates and one very big lady in a cop uniform serving punch. Carla let go of his hand and spun around to face him, her skirt twirling as the lazers made the sequin design on it sparkle, and Stan suddenly got why Shermie used to get so weird around girls. Holy Moses.

"Stanley Pines, meet my besties!" Carla gestured at the group. One girl was spinning in place with an eye closed, two boys were having a string cheese war that looked more like flirting than fighting, the other girl was filming, and the last boy was cheering everyone on. "That's Shandra, Susan, Daryl and Edwin, and Tyler! Everyone, this is Stan!"

"Hi." Stan nodded at them, getting a nod back from the girls and Tyler.

"And- wait, where's your brother?" Carla looked worriedly at him. "Didn't he come?"

"Course he did! Just went to scope out some of the party," Stan played it off, even as he looked around. What if Ford was already getting picked on? "He'll catch up."

"Okay, cool!" Carla looked up over the crowd and brightened. Didn't seem possible but she managed it. "There's Bud! Hold on, I'll get him." She dove into the crowd again, leaving Stan with her friends and no idea what to do.

He grabbed a random bar of candy to eat to avoid having to make conversation, shoving it all in his mouth in one go. He accidentally made eye contact with the cop and looked away too fast. That was probably suspicious. What was it Grunkle Dipper said? Don't speak English to cops?

Carla came back to the group with a wave, her hand entwined with another boy's. "Okay everyone! I need to introduce you all to my new boyfriend, Bud Gleeful!"

Stan was real dumb. Shoulda seen that coming, obviously Carla had a boyfriend. Little weird that it was one of Grunkle Dipper's enemies, but it was Stan's own fault that he got all weird just because the prettiest, nicest girl he ever met thought he was worth being kind to. No point being disappointed because he got stupid.

"What a delight to meet you all," Bud smiled cheerfully, his brown roots visibly showing through white hair dye. Stan turned his back and started eating more candy.

The other teens offered a chorus of uninterested 'hi's, still focused on their cheese fight. Looked like Blubs was winning, if the goal was to spray as much cheese as possible in his mouth?

Stan was starting to get why Grunkle Dipper didn't bother with the town, he was not impressed so far. Except by Carla, but she worked in the Mystery Shack so she didn't count.

"And who might you be, lil fella?" Bud drawled from behind Stan, which had his hackles up and his fists clenched, ready for a fight. Bud was twice his size, but so was Crampelter, and Stan had won that last fight. He wasn't weak and useless anymore, he wasn't the wimp that cried after just one hit, not now that he could fight.

He turned around, feet shifting into the stance from his boxing lessons as he looked up at the bigger teenager. "I'm Stan. Who wants to know?"

"Why, just 'lil ol me'-" he spoke it like a quote- "it's merely just- well, small towns, I tend to know near-everyone. But I don't recall seeing you here before."

"He and his twin are Dipper's nephews and they're in town for the summer," Carla smiled, clinging to Bud's arm. "They're here all the way from New Jersey, how cool is that?"

The other teens looked a bit more interested hearing that, looking at him like he was an oddity, something to gawk at. Was this how Ford felt? All the time?

"Yeah, what about it?"

"That's quite a distance," Bud whistled. "Would I be right in assuming you're staying in that old shack in the woods?"

"Where else would I stay, smart guy?" Stan mouthed off, focus narrowing to who else might be coming in for a sneak attack. Crampelter had friends, maybe Bud did too. "My Grunkle lives there."

"Yes, a so-called man of mystery," Bud clicked his tongue. "He's quite a shameless fraud, wouldn't you agree?"

"Coming from someone who's dad is a fake psychic?" Stan aimed for what would hurt, because it hurt when he thought about it. "What a liar, bet you can't trust anything he says."

Everyone gasped. But they didn't know. He loved his mom so much, so much , but she lied so much, just because, even when there was no reason. She didn't mean any harm, but…

"Hey now, that's not true!" Bud snapped, getting angry, and Stan regretted saying anything when he saw the look on Carla's face. She looked at him like he said something bad. He did say something bad. He was a bad kid, everyone knew it.

What was he doing? He was ruining the party, he was making everyone upset, and Ford wasn't here, Stan needed him and he wasn't here, and why did he instantly make it a fight? Because Dipper said not to trust someone? What was wrong with him?!

He had to get out of here. He pulled a smoke bomb from his pocket and hoped and prayed he got it right- got something right- and threw it at the ground.

It shattered with a flash and a POP! and sent up a cloud of smoke and sparkles that had everyone coughing, and Stan bolted.

He ran, sticking to the walls and the shadows, passing a supply closet as he looked for Ford. Where was his brother?

He was rounding the bleachers when he heard Ford laughing. At what? He slowed his steps, peeking around the corner to see Ford holding a blowtorch and soldering something, laughing and talking with two other boys. He looked like he was having a great time. Without Stanley.

Stan felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, fists clenched tight and shaking with that energy he got in fights. Ford had some sciency name for it that Stan couldn't remember right now.

Ford was fine. He found people who liked him. Just like he wanted. Stan was tempted to go over there and say hi- but if Ford wanted that wouldn't he have come and got Stanley? Ford always wanted to show off cool things he found, he dragged Stanley all over Glass Shard Beach, so this must mean Ford didn't want to show off his new friends.

Stanley could take a hint. Heck- Ford would probably be better off with friends who were smart like him. Stan just caused trouble, everyone knew it.

He backed away, genuinely considering sneaking out to go sit with Grunkle Dipper. Even if that meant listening to girly pop music.

Actually-

Nah. Still not desperate enough for that. He still wasn't sure if Grunkle Dipper even wanted them around, Shermie had been the one to push for the trip. Even brought the bus tickets.

Everyone else kept making decisions and Stan kept having to deal with them. He scowled and found the supply closet again, because at least Carla and Bud wouldn't find him in here if they wanted to get mad at him for causing problems.

He closed the door behind him and shoved over the nearest thing, sending janitor supplies clattering to the ground as he yelled, just to get the energy out. "I never even wanted to come here! Ford did, not me!"

He turned and punched the drywall. "I hate stupid parties!"

The drywall cracked. Cracked more. Fell away to reveal a big boxy safe hidden behind the plaster, rusted and covered in dust and cobwebs. Stan had a suddenly cold feeling, a looming sense that he'd done something very stupid.

A girl's voice whispered in his ear.

"Me too."

The screaming started as Dipper chewed a pen, brainstorming new attractions for the track. He caught the smell of ectoplasm in the air, able to recognise it instantly, and shoved open the door to his truck, sprinting towards the gym as a pale glow began to surround the building.

He could hear the panic of the townsfolk, his focus set on the door as he raced the ghostly energy, trying to get in before it cut off the gym from the outside world. The boys were still in there.

"No, no, no, no-!" The ectoplasm covered the door right as he reached it, the handle chilling his fingers as he failed to yank it open. He kept trying to jiggle it open before he switched to banging his fists against the glass. "Kids!"

"My lil Buddy-boy!" He heard from behind him, Gideon Gleeful running in his bedazzled suit, his white pompadour bouncing with each step of his wingtip shoes. Dipper ignored him and braced his shoulder against the door, trying to shove it open. Now wasn't the time to start fighting his nemesis. Maybe? He could multitask.

"Hold on, son!" Gideon panicked before turning to the crowd, hand on his bolo tie. "Everyone, please! I need you all to step back and let me use my psychic abilities! Step back, everyone!"

Dipper felt himself step back before he could snap at Gideon to back off, watching Gideon raise his hand to the building.

"Spirit! I compel thee! Release our children and be banished from this place!" Gideon's voice boomed out bombastically, bringing his TV psychic bravado to the real world.

Nothing happened.

Obviously.

"Oh no! Something's blocking my powers! My innate abilities! That I definitely have!"

"Yeah, yeah," Dipper snarled and pulled a glove from his pocket, yanking it on as he stomped to the door. "Hey, ghost! Open up!"

He drew back his fist and punched the door, the ectoplasmic coating jiggling like jello before it started to wobble faster, energy building up. Bad sign.

Dipper had enough time to swear for real before the ghost blasted him away from the building and into darkness.

One minute Ford was helping solder an ignition wire, the next the walls were glowing and tables and chairs were floating in the air. Snacks were flying, aimed at people's heads as screams filled the air, and Tad had to struggle to hold onto his bread as it threatened to fly away too.

"What's happening?" Fiddleford clutched his hands together, rubbing at his spindly fingers. The rest of the party were freaking out, some rushing the doors, others trying to hide, some freezing in fear.

Ford? Ford felt alive . This was it, the weirdness he knew was here.

"Hold on, I may have an answer-" but the diary was so uncool-looking, what if his new friends didn't want to be his friends because of it?

"Ford!" That was Stanley! "Ford, Ford, Ford!"

"Over here!" He responded without hesitation, because that was his brother calling and Ford would always answer.

Stan rounded the bleachers and skidded to a stop, worn sneakers nearly losing traction on the smooth gym floors. His eyes were wide and he almost looked scared. Couldn't be true though, Ford had documented Stan's phobias and fear responses. Paranormal activity wasn't meant to register. "It's bad! It's really bad!"

"Wait-" Ford adjusted his glasses. "Stanley, did you do this?"

"I didn't plan on it, Sixer!" Stan flipped a switch into anger, shoulders hunched defensively. "I think it's a girl! I heard a voice!"

"A voice? So not only is this clearly paranormal activity of some form, but it's aware enough to manifest vocals and self-identify? Fascinating!"

"Uh, Ford? Who's this?" Fiddleford tapped him on the shoulder.

"Oh!" He'd completely forgotten they were there, so caught up in the supernatural. "Fiddleford, Tad, this is my twin brother, Stanley. Stanley, these are my friends, Fiddleford and Tad."

"Hi. I'm Tad Strange. I like bread."

"Yeah, great to meetcha, the nerd book , Ford, what does it say ?" Stan made a swipe for Ford's jacket, where he knew the book was.

Ford backed up. "I don't- I haven't looked yet!"

"Why not?!"

"Because-" laughter, vicious and dark, rang out around the room, and Stan whirled, hand out like he was protecting Ford and his friends. Ford stared as Carla lifted into the centre of the room, her eyes glowing white from within and her arms outstretched.

She spoke with a voice that wasn't hers. "Sixty years I've watched you all party! Now tonight will be your last!"

"Hey!" Sheriff Grenda stomped forward and pointed at her. "You're under arrest for possession! Get outta that teenager!"

"Adults," the ghost scoffed, crossing Carla's arms. "You threw this party? Then I'll throw you!"

Carla pointed as Grenda was enveloped in pale light before she seemed to- rip apart? But it looked wet? But there was also no blood or anything, her matter was just rearranged? That was so cool! Oh- and bad too, right.

"Sheriff!"

"Where did she go?"

"It turned her into a disco ball!"

It had. Ford had never seen a disco ball with a face before. He wanted to take so many notes.

"Back behind the bleachers, c'mon!" Fiddleford dragged both the twins to the corner he and Tad were hiding in, sitting them down as they hid in the shadows. It wasn't much of a hiding spot, but the panicking crowd likely drew more attention.

"Poindexter!" Stanley grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "You gotta focus! How do we stop this?"

"Okay." He pulled out the diary and started flipping through, face burning. He hoped Fiddleford and Tad didn't laugh at the sparkliness of it. "Ghosts, ghosts, I know I saw something- here!"

He cleared his throat and began reading the sticker-covered page, googly eyes pasted onto a drawing of a happy ghost.

"Dear diary,

I fought a ghost today! It was crazy! He was really cute, definitely dreamy, but he was also a major meanie who wanted to destroy town, so dateability: questionable.

Good thing I saw some of her ghost hunting tapes, otherwise I wouldn't have kicked ghostly butt! I bet this one would have counted as a Category 5, so kind of a ghost wimp. Lemme list the categories before I forget! Womp womp!"

Ford scanned through the categories before he found it. "This must be it! 'Category 8: Haunted Buildings- these ghosts are stuck in one place and make reality go all whoa! But they can't actually hurt people permanently and you can totally work things out with them by talking about their feelings, awwwwww' and then there's a heart drawn in? And people hugging?"

"We're all gonna die," Stan decided.

"Stan, you have to tell me how this happened. Maybe there's a clue there."

"I just hit a wall." Stan shrugged, looking away. "Same as always."

"Perhaps we should ask the ghost what it wants?" Tad offered as a solution, looking abnormally calm while Fiddleford was having a silent freak out next to him, rocking back and forth and carding his hands through his hair. Ford felt a bit bad to see him so nervous, he must not have encountered an anomaly before.

"I think it's pretty easy to tell what the ghost wants, Strange." Stan snarked.

"I WILL DESTROY ALL THE PARTY SPIRIT THAT HAS EVER EXISTED!"

"Yeah, that bit's obvious," Ford agreed. "It says that Category 8s aren't unreasonable, so maybe we can convince it to leave everyone alone?"

"We have to get it out of Carla," Stan agreed and took Ford's hand. Ford blinked at him in surprise. Stan must have really been scared, they hadn't held hands in a while. His fingers were trembling.

Ford didn't let go this time. Not if Stanley needed it. He squeezed his twin's hand and pulled them both out of hiding, the room nearly empty from everyone being turned into party favours and posters and stuff. Carla's body floated, items swirling around her like a tornado, her flower missing from her hair.

"Hey, ghost!" Ford yelled as he and Stan stepped up. "We wanna talk!"

"Oh?" Carla's body raised a hand and they were both floating. Ford felt Stanley's hand go tight in a death grip, hard enough to hurt. His fear of heights, Ford had to do something. The ghost continued, making Carla's face angry in a way that didn't look right. "What do you possibly have to say? Here to defend parties like everyone else?"

"I- we wanted to ask why you're unhappy!" Ford blurted out. "We want to try fix it!"

"How can you fix it? You were invited to this party like everyone else, I bet you've been to lots of them, everyone has! Everyone but me!"

"No we haven't!" Ford tried to convince her. "Tell her, Stanley!"

"I-" Stan's eyes were scrunched shut, face pale and sweaty. "We haven't! Look at us, we're losers! Who'd invite us anywhere?!"

Everything in the gym stopped spinning. Then it all crashed to the ground, Stan and Ford included. Stan immediately dropped to his knees and pressed his face to the floor, while Ford landed a little steadier. He placed a hand on Stanley's back and looked up at Carla, or, more accurately, at the ghost that had appeared, holding Carla up by the shoulders.

She looked like a normal teenager in retro clothes, just with thick glasses like Ford.

"You're losers like me? But you don't look like it!"

Ford held up his hand and wiggled his six fingers. "I'm definitely a loser. And my brother…" they both looked at Stanley, currently muttering 'sweet Moses, I love you ground'.

"But if you're losers, then why are you at a party?" She scowled and adjusted her glasses. "Especially when one of you hates them."

"Huh?" Ford looked at Stanley, feeling betrayed. Stanley didn't like parties? But he was the one who convinced Grunkle Dipper, and said they'd been to lots to Carla, and-

And, Ford suddenly remembered, dodged the question about wanting to go in the first place.

"Stanley?"

Stanley looked away and swiped his nose with his wrist brace. "Whatever. So what if I do?" He pointed at the ghost. "Why do you hate them?"

The ghost gave a very big sigh and Ford braced for backstory. "No one in this town ever invited me to anything."

"Even all of the parties that were meant for everyone, I would get an anti-invitation. An unvitation ." The ghost floated just above the ground, looking sad. "So one day, I decided that I would ignore my unvitation and go to a party meant for everyone."

She tilted her head. "Unfortunately, that party was to celebrate Gravity Falls' Annual Heavy Object Tossing Competition, and a safe landed right on me."

"That can not be a real thing-"

"It's real!" Sheriff Grenda, in disco ball form, yelled out. "I've won it eight years in a row!"

"Okay…?" Ford shook his head, resolving to ignore that. "So you've been here ever since?"

"Yes. I've watched people party for sixty years here!" The ghost began to turn red and catch fire. "And still! No invitations!"

"What if we invited you?" Ford offered.

"Or Carla!" Stan blurted out. "Carla over there, you just possessed her. She's super nice and will invite anyone. She invited us, for cryin' out loud."

"Oh. Okay." The ghost floated over to Carla, sitting on the floor staring blankly into the middle distance, hugging her knees to her chest. "Hi Carla! Can I come to this party?"

"Uh…" Carla looked over at them, frazzled and ruffled. Ford nodded as hard as he could while Stan gave her very emphatic thumbs up. Carla looked back to the ghost. "Sure...?"

"Great!" The ghost snapped her fingers and everything went right back to normal. People turned back into people, Grenda was no longer a disco ball, and the music started up again. "I've always wanted to go to a party! Whoo-hoo!"

"Can I ask you a million questions about being a ghost?!" Ford asked now that the danger was gone, pulling out a spare notepad and pencil, not noticing Stan walk off.

Stan picked up Carla's plastic flower and held it out to her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not sure?" Carla accepted the flower, putting it in her hair. "I think my whole worldview just changed."

"Yep." Stan hesitated, fidgeting with his wrist brace. "I'm sorry I said mean things to Bud."

"Oh. Well- thanks, but I think you need to apologise to him, okay?" Carla smiled at him and stood up, brushing off her skirt.

Stan nodded and scuffed his shoe against the floor. "I will."

"Thanks. You're a good kid, Stan." She patted his shoulder. "And for the record: I don't think you're a loser, you or your brother. Jersey doesn't know what they got."

"Kay." Stan agreed because how was he meant to argue that? Not when Carla was smiling at him like she believed it, like she wasn't so cool. "Thanks, Carla."

"Carla!" Bud shoved through the crowd, flowery shirt looking a bit rumpled. "Are you alright, dearest-darlingest?"

"I'm fine, really!" Carla beamed, taking Bud's hands. "Stan and Ford saved me."

"I can see that." Bud shot Stan a filthy look.

"Hey, Bud." Stan shoved his hands into his pockets, having to drag the words out of himself. He didn't like apologising much. Usually it didn't help things.

"Can I help you, Stanley?" He made it sound utterly frigid.

"Sorry for what I said about your dad and stuff. It was mean." Stan looked away, looking at Ford, who was introducing the ghost to Strange and McGucket. At least he was having fun.

"I… suppose I'm also sorry about what I said about your great uncle. It was uncalled for." Bud tugged at the collar of his shirt. "Perhaps we should call a truce?"

"Sure. Truce." Stan stuck out his hand, too late realising it was his braced hand.

Bud took it, squeezing way too hard and making the bones hurt. Stan didn't flinch and dug his nails in as an answer. 'Truce'. Sure. When Carla was around, at least.

"Yay!" Carla did a happy dance. "The power of friendship wins again!"

They both put on a smile for her, immediately shooting daggers at the other the moment she wasn't looking. Looked like they'd be hating each other in secret. Stan could live with that.

"I'm gonna go check on my brother." Stan yanked his hand back and walked off, already sick of Bud Gleeful. He was joining his Grunkle's rivalry on the side of his Grunkle.

They found their Grunkle Dipper snoring in the back of his pick-up truck, having one of those old people naps he usually had in his armchair. Ford poked his face with a pencil, not expecting him to bolt upright and immediately fall out of the truck with a surprisingly girly scream.

"Augh! Dipper down! Dipper down!"

"Grunkle Dipper, we met a ghost!" Surely he saw the building glow, right? He'd believe Ford now!

"Huh?" Dipper rubbed his head, accidentally showing off the birthmark on his forehead of the Big Dipper constellation. He picked up his cap and set it down, blinking blearily up at Stan and Ford. "You what a what?"

"Met a ghost. Fought her, invited her to a party, whole shebang," Stan yawned. "Can we go home now?"

"I made friends!" Ford already had so many plans. "Can they come over for a sleepover tomorrow? They already called their parents and asked!"

"Sure and sure?" Dipper dusted off his pajamas, surprisingly dirty for a nap in his truck, and Ford noticed something.

"What's that glove?"

"Glove?" Dipper looked down before he noticed the blue glove on his right hand. He made a weird face before he pulled it off. "Uh, it's a- a compression glove? Yep! That thing! For my old man arthritis. Flares up sometimes. 'Cause I'm old."

"Aren't you fifty-seven?"

"I'm whatever age a senior's discount at the movies is," Dipper snarked, and Ford scowled. That felt sorta illegal. Definitely unethical.

"I like your moxie, Grunkle Dip," Stan complimented as he clambered out of the back of the truck. "So did you see any of that?"

"Any of what? I've been sleeping." Dipper blinked innocently.

"Oh, come on!" Now Ford really had to find proof of the supernatural. Time to build a gnome trap.

He reached for Stanley's hand again, resolving to talk to him later about stuff. Stanley squeezed his hand back, smiling at him before he yawned again.

Ford yawned in response. Okay. Tomorrow. They'd talk tomorrow. Stanley shouldn't have to feel like he needed to hide things, not from his brother.

Mystery twins forever, after all.

#gravity falls #dipper pines #stanford pines #stanley pines #fanfic #relativity falls au but Mabel is the Author #trying a more episodic style of writing with these chapters #Old Man Dipper wears Mabel sweaters as PJs #my writings #gf

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