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catsteeth · 4 months

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Sugar & Violence

Podrick Payne x reader

+:✿ Chapter 5 ✿:+ : To The Wall

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Summary: You’re a Mormont being held hostage by House Lannister. You are acting now as the Handmaiden for Margery Tyrell, whom you’ve grown quite close with. But it seems that a squire has caught your attention as you have caught his.

CW: afab reader, MDNI, pining, queer unresolved romantic tension, unspoken confession, threats of violence, misogyny, mention of violence, mention of alcohol consumption, mention of NSFW themes.

Word Count: 4.9k

It had been a few days since Joffrey's murder.

You had spent those days locked in your chamber for the entirety of those two days. You spent it laying about and hoping that Podrick had received your orders and followed them.

How silly of you, you thought. Laying about thinking of a man, worrying about a man. How dreadfully pathetic.

You hoped that the news of Joffrey's murder traveled North to your family. Your cousin, and your father. You hoped they heard it, it would satisfy them at least.

But mostly you thought of Podrick. What he said before he left, he “wanted to marry you”. What would that have looked like? ‘(Y/N) Payne’, it sounded right to you, felt like bliss. You imagined he and you back on the Island. There’d be no need to sneak and hide, you could sleep in the same bed and sleep til the late morning without fearing anyone would catch you.

Maybe you’d even carry a babe in your belly…

Look at you, a silly girl twirling her hair thinking of boys as you laid on your bed. Now wasn’t the time for that, no now was the time to do everything you could to get back to him.

Just as you thought it, a guard holding a tray of food entered your chambers. “Supper time, bear bitch.” He said about sliding your tray across the floor.

“Wait,” You called out as you sat up on your bed.

“You aint got nothing I wanna hear.” He said pushing your tray across the floor.

You walked towards him, your hand trailing down the cleavage exposed from your dress. “I might have something you want to feel.” Your seductive facade was clearly working as the man closed the door behind him. “It’s been awfully lonely in this room, relieving myself on my pillows simply won’t do.” You whined as you trailed your other hand down his chest.

He looked around the room to make sure he wasn’t being set up, “You any good at it?” The man smirked,

“Better than any whore in any brothel. And cheaper too, infact I won’t cost a thing.” You batted your eyelashes and faked a giggle.

He cupped your chin, “How about your mouth?” You took his thumb and sucked on it, the man groaned “Hells, alright then get on with it-”

You immediately stopped and looked at him, your facade dropping, “Oh but for that you’ll need to help me with one thing.”

The man groaned and whined about it but eventually gave in. After all, he was already half way hard.

You made him smuggle you down to the dungeons in a dark cloak. Down to the cells where they kept your lover's former Lord.

As you stepped inside the dungeon cell you removed your hooded cloak.

“I must speak with you.” You spoke with intention and direct purpose.

“Not very smart of you. You were accused just as I was.” He was clearly upset, being locked away in a dungeon does not tend to bring out the best in people.

“I am to be released soon enough.” You were already growing annoyed by the way this conversation was going.

“Not quite. You’re still in King's Landing.” He was right of course “Besides if two accused come together as one person might talk. ‘What other King will they kill?’” He spoke in a mocking tone.

“I didn’t kill a king. Why would I risk my Lady’s position?” You should have, but at that point, your attention was solely focused on keeping you and Podrick together. Maybe you were being selfish.

“Because by letting her marry him, you’d be risking her life.” You felt a comfort in knowing someone else knew and recognized his cruelty. Most were too scared to express it.

You looked down and rationalized, “She is a woman grown. Capable of deciding her own path. As are you.” You looked back at him, ready to return the accusation, “Joffrey was quite cruel towards you.”

“As he was to most.”

“Especially you.” You said stepping closer to him, “No one would have blamed you for it.”

“Oh but they could.” He said, holding up his hands in chains.

You shook your head, “I’ve not come here to argue with you.”

“What did you come for? And how did you? The guard-“

You interrupted, knowing your time was limited, “I told him I’d suck his cock if he let me in.”

He chuckled “Not quite faithful to our mutual friend are you?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“How do you-“

He interrupted you, “Please, I am not blind. Love comes from the eyes. I could see it in him and you whenever you found one another.” His gaze was softer, as if he knew how dear you were to Podrick. He shrugged, “That and I've seen him shuffling out of your chambers in the early morning.”

“I’m not going to suck the guard's cock.” You shook your head and looked down almost ashamed you’d even told him that you would. You knew you wouldn’t, ever. “Once I leave here, I’m going to tell him if he doesn’t forget it happened I'll tell the queen he let me out, and I’ve a witness now.” You said looking at him.

“You are smart.” He nodded,

“I'm terrified.” Your eyes focused on him, “Never been terrified before. But I am… now.” You huffed, “Not even for me. Cersei could throw me in here for a hundred years and I'd be content as long as I know I did what I could to free him from this place.” Your words were much more sweet and sincere than Tyrion would have expected.

He looked confused, “A squire. A loyal one I will give him that. But a girl of an honorable house name… picks a squire, I don’t understand.”

“it’s not meant for you to understand.” You said defensively, then you sat on a crate that was in the room, you looked down and smiled, “He was kind. The only kind man I'd ever known. His kindness was pure of any ambition or desire. He was kind to me because he wanted to be. Even when he saw me being unpleasant and harsh… He still was kind to me.” You finished sounding sorrowful almost.

“He was a good lad.” He nodded, his face was one of understanding.

“He is. And right now all I am concerned about is where he is going?” Your voice was quiet and soft.

“You think I know?” His cynical facade, still hanging on.

“You owe him your life. Of course you know.” Your eyes looked desperate, and Tyrion could see it.

He looked down, “My brother Jamie has sent him to squire Brienne of Tarth. That’s all that I know.”

“I can work with that.” You smiled slightly.

As your conversation with Tyrion was coming to a close the dungeon door opened.

“Alright birdie, your times up with the imp. And your time with me is about to start.” The man was grinning ear to ear, it made Tyrion wince.

You didn’t look at the man at all, not acknowledging his existence at all “Thank you.” You said to Tyrion before you stood and turned to the man in the doorway. “I’m not touching you and if you so much as whine I will tear your pathetic excuse of a cock off and stuff it in your mouth so that you cannot speak when the queen questions why you let someone accused of murdering her son out of her chamber and into the cell of another accused murder.” Your voice was deep and venomous.

Tyrion cracked a smile as the man stood there processing what you’d said.

One he did after a few moments of silence he took you by your arm and dragged you back to your chambers, huffing and puffing like a child the whole way.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

A few days earlier,

Just as Tyrion had said Jamie assigned Podrick to Brienne to aid her in her quest to find the Stark sisters and bring them to safety.

Podrick was heartbroken without you, and without the certainty that he’d find you anytime soon. However his one solace was that he was to serve the very woman that had inspired such happiness in you. When you saw her you saw a bit of yourself in her. You saw a great warrior and someone worth something. Podrick was proud to serve such a Lady.

“I don’t need a squire.” Brienne said annoyed that one was even being pushed onto her.

“Of course you do.” Jaime said

Brienne’s annoyance only escalated, “He’ll slow me down.”

“My brother owes him a debt, he’s not safe here. You’re keeping him from harm. It’s chivalry.” Jamie smiled at her annoyance.

Podrick felt the need to interject, “I won’t slow you down, ser–” Brienne looked at him with daggers in her eyes and Jamie looked at him like he was mad, “My lady…” He attempted to correct his mistake. “I promise I’ll serve you well.” He nodded,

“See? He’s a good Lad. You’ll get along.” Jamie said, patting him on the back.

As their journey began Podrick realized two things. Firstly he did not learn anything in Lord Tyrion's service. Especially how to ride a horse,

“Come on move,” Podrick said to his brown horse, trying to get it to comply with his directions that he clearly did not know how to give.

Brienne looked over at him with irritation, “Didn’t they teach you how to ride a horse?” she questioned.

He continued to struggle with his reigns, “Yes, my Lady when I was young. There wasn’t much call for Lord Tyrion, though. He preferred litters.”

“Perhaps you should have stayed with him.” She said clearly unsatisfied with Jamie’s ‘gift’ “It’s not going to be a pleasant journey for you. It could take weeks to get to the wall, depending on the weather.”

His horse made its own way off the path and back on it again at its own leisure. “That’s a long way off,” He said, hiding his slight excitement as best he could. If they were going to the wall there was a chance he’d see you if you did as you said and escaped. Or at least he could try to convince your father to send aid.

“Well Lady Sansa's brother is at Castle Black. If I were her that’s where I’d go.” She looked back at Podrick again, rolling her eyes, “Feel free to stop at any point.”

“Never, my Lady. I am your squire.” he attempted to say it with conviction but his constant struggle made his tone waver.

“I’ve made it this far in the world without a squire. Don’t see why I need one now.”

“All knights have squires, my Lady.”

“I’m not a knight. And I’m not a slaver, either. I don’t own you.”

“I swore an oath, my Lady.” His conviction was strong.

“I am releasing you from that oath.” She looked back at him, noticing he was still there, “That means you can leave.”

“I know.”

“What do you think will happen if you leave?” She raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious why someone would want to stay with her.

“They’ll say I wasn’t a very good squire.” The truth was the past hour proved to him that he couldn’t make it out here on his own. And if he were going to find you he would need to learn to stand on his two feet first.

The second thing he had learned however, was how similar you and Brienne were. Though of course he preferred you to her. She was direct, stubborn, and clearly loyal.

It made him more inclined to tolerate her words.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

A day after your meeting with Tyrion, Margaery had snuck into your chamber as she often did now. You begged her to find more information about where Podrick might have gone, the next day she'd already found an answer to your question.

“Podrick left with Brienne of Tarth. Jamie Lannister commanded him to squire for her, aid her efforts to find Sansa Stark.” Her words were heavy as if she’d known something you didn’t.

“What is it?” You asked,

“I am to tell you that you may resume your duties as my lady.” Your eyes lit up and hers darkened, “You have been cleared as a suspect.” She said, once again her voice and her face did not match the happiness of the news you’d received. “I found these last night.” She handed you clothing and armor, you recognized it. It was the very same armor that you’d arrived in Kings Landing with. Not your best armor but you took it, happily.

“Thank you. Thank you for what you’ve done for me, Margaery.” You said sincerely, smiling at her.

“So you are leaving me?” She asked,

You looked confused, she must've known it was coming, “I must. There’s nothing left here for me.” You said, your brows furrowed.

“There’s me. Your dearest friend.” She held onto your hand with a tight grip.

“Margaery, Pod-” You began to explain but she interrupted.

“My last two husbands were murdered. I could have run to the high garden but I didn't.”

“You’ve a goal, and I’ve mine.” You tried to reason with her.

She shook her head as if she were shaking away her thoughts from it, “I know. I know. Love.” She said as if the word were a silly concept, something foreign. “I just wish you’d choose me.”

You leaned into her, “This place is not safe. for me or for you for that matter. You should leave, marry someone who you love.” You tried to have her see reason.

She shook her head, looking at you with eyes filled with an emotion you did not understand. “I can’t marry someone I love.” she looked down at her hand hold yours then back into your eyes, “I am going to be the Queen.”

You nodded, she had made her choice and you made yours, “And I cannot always be your lady- Handmaiden.”

“Why not?” You were about to open your mouth to explain but she stopped you, forcing a false smile. “You are right. It’s best we leave our girlhood behind us and realize we’ve stepped into our womanhood. Silly dreams and feelings cannot hold such weight. But, for whatever it may be worth, however little. I enjoyed the time," She held your hand even tighter, "The time we spent laughing.” You smiled at her, you understood now. But still, I could not give her what she wanted. “The Guards by the stables leave it unattended for a few minutes each night, when the moon is highest. That’s your best chance.” She said, slightly tearing up.

“Goodbye, and thank you.” You said, smiling warmly attempting to not cry.

“Goodbye, and thank you.” She repeated back to you.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You did as she said and you left that night.

You stole a Lannister horse, being sure to remove its colors and saddle from it but that meant you’d have to ride it bare. ‘They hang horse thieves,’ you thought. So you were sure to steal a sword while you at it.

You had been riding quite a long time, didn’t know how long even but you knew the sun had come and gone a few times, and now were quite hungry. You found a nearby inn. You knew that eventually they’d throw their left overs out in the back eventually.

As you hanged around the back you let your new horse drink from a creek.

“Hello, there.” You heard behind you, you turned around and saw a short and stout boy.

“Hello…” You said with narrow eyes and a furrow brow.

“You want to come in? It’s much warmer inside, there’s ale, water, kidney pie-” You could tell he was a talker and cut him off before he could keep going.

“I don’t have any money.” You shook your head, “Just watering the horse, I’ll be on my way.” You said looking back at your horse.

“Your armor is quite nice, are you a Knight?” The boy continued to question you,

“Women cannot be knights.” You said not looking back at him.

“What's the bear for?” He asked innocently,

You thought for a moment, you couldn’t admit who you were, “House Brune of the CrownLands.”

“Looks like a Mormont sigil.” He said,

You shook your head, “They’re loyal to the traitors from Winterhell.” You were good at lying, but somehow you couldn’t quite say that without your voice wavering.

“It is a Mormont sigil, isn’t it?” He said. You thought you’d been found out by someone loyal to the crown. So naturally you took hold of your sword's handle, “I didn’t mean to offend!” He said, raising his hands. You couldn’t bring yourself to escalate the situation anymore than that.

You took your hand away from your sword, satisfied he wasn’t a threat. You turned back to the horse once again.“Just let me be on my way.”

“You’re a long way out from the North.” He said concerned, and you didn’t respond. “You want a hot meal?” He asked kindly.

You looked at him, your eyes a bit softer now. “I told you I don’t have any money.”

He shrugged, “I am happy to give it.” He looked around to make sure no one else could hear him say whatever he was going to, “Starks need a loyal ally.” You nodded and he went back into the Inn for a few minutes before returning with food wrapped in a cloth.

“Thank you.” You nodded at him as you took the food.

“What was your name?”

You thought for a moment, then deciding you could tell him. It was the least you could do. “(Y/N) Mormont.”

“I knew I was right.” He said with a smile. You smiled back as you ate the pastry.

The two of you talked, or more like he talked at you for some time and you went on your way.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Little did you know that a mere few hours later Podrick and Brienne would be stopping into that very same place.

As Brienne and Podrick sat at a table. She dug into the pie in front of her “A bit of comfort never hurt anyone. We’ve been sleeping in ditches. I think we can treat ourselves with a featherbed for the night and a hot meal not cooked by you.” She said,

“Couldn’t agree more, my Lady.” Podrick said defeatedly as he drank the ale in his cup.

“Just don’t expect silk underclothes. Not working for your former lord anymore.”

“Yes, my Lady.” He began to drink even more of his ale,

Brienne took his cup away, “Don’t get drunk,” she snapped at him.

“No, my Lady.” He submitted,

That very same short and stout boy began talking to Brienne the very same way as he did you.

“That’s nice armor, are you a Knight?” He asked innocently.

“No.” She was frustrated by the assumption.

“Oh it’s just people with nice armor are usually knights. Generally speaking. Funny enough I saw another Lady in armor, she wasn’t from around here there. From King’s Landing though, aren’t you?” Brienne looked at him with disdain and Podrick looked at him uncomfortably. “From there myself originally, flea bottom born and bred.” He continued, “What brings you to these parts?”

“We’re looking for someone. A girl, tall, red hair, very pretty. Her name is Sansa Stark.” Brienne got directly to the point. Podrick looked at her empathically, but concerned.

“Stark? What like them lot from Winterhell? Ain't seen anyone like that. Them lot are traitors. No room for traitors in here.” He feigned his loyalty to the crown as he picked himself up and left Brienne and Podrick on their own.

Podrick found it difficult to hear such things about a place you were so loyal to.

꒰ ୨୧ ─

As Brienne and Podrick left the inn, Brienne noticed Podrick’s worried look as he readied their horses.

“What?” She asked devoid of any emotion.

“It’s nothing, my lady.” He shook his head,

“You wouldn’t screw your face up if it was nothing.”

“Don’t want to offend, my lady. Truly I don’t”

“You’re not interesting enough to be offensive.”

“The Lannisters want Lady Sansa. The Lannisters have money. People kill for money. I don’t think that we should be telling people about us trying to find Lady Sansa.”

“My lady, My Lord.” He got the attention of Pod and Brienne, “You seem like a proper lady, someone who can be trusted… I don’t know a Sansa Stark. But I know her sister, Arya.”

Brienne furrowed her brow, "No one's seen Arya Stark since her father was beheaded. She's presumed dead."

"She weren't when I last spoke to her...heading up north with the Night's Watch. She was all dressed up as a boy...going by the name Arry. "

Her interest peaked, "So what happened to her? The quick version."

"The Lannisters took us prisoner. We escaped. The Brotherhood took us prisoner. They 'sold' me to the innkeep. They were gonna sell Arya to her mother at Riverrun, along with another prisoner: big ugly fellow, foul mouth and a face like a half-burnt ham. Not friendly." He shook his head,

“Thank you,” Brienne said,

“You know it’s funny, It’s not everyday you meet a Lady in armor. And it’s not everyday you meet two in one day.” He said, Pod and Brienne losing interest quickly, “And this one was a lot like you too, My Lady. Not very friendly at first,” Brienne looked at him, “Meaning no offense. But once I found out she was a Mormont she was pleasant enough.” Podrick looked at him as if lighten had struck him, Brienne noticed and looked at him strangely,

“What’d she look like?” He asked, Brienne looking at him even stranger.

The boy described you, exactly, there was no mistake.

“Did she say where she was going?” Podrick continued to press him uncharacteristically

“No, my Lord. I asked and she wouldn’t say.” He said,

Podrick looked defeated and went back to reading the horse, but Brienne kept her eyes on him, curious as to what that meant to him.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

On your long journey you stumbled into a camp, but not any camp. You could tell just by looking at the boys that they were Knights Watch recruits.

This had to have been a sign from the Gods. Safer passage North and saver passage to your father. As you rode up you were eyeballed by all the new recruits, unfamiliar with who you were.

“Hello pretty girl,” A man said,

“Bring me, Yoren.” You spoke confidently and coldy.

“Now is that a sweet way to ask?” The same man asked a shorter man beside him.

“No, not sweet at all.” The short man said.

A younger man with short hair behind them spoke up, “She’s wearing Mormont armor.”

You sat up tall on your horse, “My father is Jeor Mormont. I am (Y/N) Mormont. Now bring me Yoren.” You reasserted,

“Yes, My Lady.” The short man said before rushing to find him.

Soon enough Yoren was with helding you and dismounting your horse. “Lady Mormont.” He said happily enough for such a grumpy old man. He had known you since you were born.

“Yoren.” You said with a smile,

“What can we offer ye?” His arms crossed and his eyes softened towards you,

You sighed knowing he’d not want what you were going to propose, “I want to go to the wall. To Castle Black.” You nodded.

“Well, I think you know better than anyone that a lady can not join the Knights watch.” He teased,

“I’m not looking to join it. I am looking for my father.”

His tone shifted slightly to a deeper one, “It’s unusual, and dangerous road, that's for sure.” He sighed and looked down, then back at you, “But your father would bury me deep in the ground if I didn’t.” He smirked,

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Weeks had passed. Pod and Brienne’s journey was taking a hard turn. Everything had gone wrong.

They’d found Arya like the boy at the Inn said, but when Brienne fought the Hound for Arya they’d lost her. She didn’t want the protection to begin with, the entire thing hurt and frustrated Brienne more than she knew to describe.

So naturally she took it out on Podrick.

“Will we head North at some point?” Podrick asked about setting up camp, “You said Sansa had a brother at Castle Black. We’re a few days' ride from the kings road. It’ll take us-”

“Us?” Brienne asked, her voice devoid of all emotion, “The only reason you’re here is because Jaime Lannister told me you weren’t safe in the Capital.” Podrick stood still, unsure of what to do or say, “You’re hundreds of miles from King’s Landing.” She said removing her armor. “No one knows what you look like, no one cares. You’re safe.”

“But I am your squire.” He couldn’t let his opportunity go, to prove himself to himself, and to you.

“Do you even know what a squire is?” She looked at him with a look of contempt.

“An attendant to a knight?” He looked confused,

“I’m not a knight, that means you’re not a squire.”

“Well where will I go?”

“I don’t care, I'm not your mother.” She practically spat her words at him,

“You swore to find the Stark girls.”

“I found Arya. She didn’t want my protection.”

“Sansa still might.” He attempted to calm her,

“Will you shut your mouth?” She snapped at him, “I didn’t ask for your advice. I don't want you to follow me because I’m not a leader. All I ever wanted was to fight for a lord I believed in. The ones are dead and the rest are monsters.” She scowled as she looked off into the distance and then looked back at Podrick, “And all your lords, they’ve all been so kind to you.” She stood and walked away, “All except me,” She took a breath and looked back at him, “I’m sorry you have to squire such a nasty person.”

“That girl he talked about in the Inn. I knew her well. She met you once, and couldn't stop talking about you.” He continued to set up camp, “I’m not sorry. You’re the best fighter I’ve ever seen. You beat the hound. I am proud to be your squire.”

She looked at him, “I’m sorry I am always snapping at you.”

“If you didn’t snap at me I wouldn’t learn anything.” He said with a strange optimism,

“You want to be a Knight, Pod?”

He looked at her, his eyes filled with excitement “Yes.”

She nodded and sat down, pointed to the armor she wanted him to take off of her, “Starting tomorrow, we’ll train with a sword twice a day. Before we ride in the morning and after you make camp in the evening. And I am going to show you how to ride properly.” He finished taking off her armor for her, “I can’t knight you, but I can teach you to fight.”

“I suppose that’s more important.” He smiled ear to ear. “You weren’t a knight, but you were a Kingsgaurd to Renly Baratheon, weren’t you?” He questioned, genuinely curious.

“I was.” She said,

“Lord Tyrion said he was a good man.”

“He was.” You could hear her grief,

“How did you end up serving Renly?” Podrick asked as he sat beside her.

Brienne hesitated for a moment but began her story, “When I was a girl my father held a ball. I was his only living child so he wanted to make a good match for me. I didn’t want to go but he dragged me. And I loved it.” Podrick smiled, she reminded him of you. “None of the boys noticed how mulish and tall I was. They shoved each other when they thought it was their turn to dance.” She smiled looking back at her own story, “I’d never been so happy.” Her smile faded, “Till I saw a few of the boys snickering.” Podricks smile faded as well, “And then they all started to laugh, and couldn't keep the game up any longer. Brienne the beauty they called me- great joke. And I realized I was the ugliest girl alive. A great lumbering beast.” You could feel her pain just in her words alone. “I tried to run away but Renly Baratheon took me into his arms. ‘Don’t let them see your tears,’ he told me ‘They’re nasty little shits, and nasty little shits aren’t worth crying over.’” Her smile returned again, “He danced with me and none of the boys could say a word. He was the King's brother after all.” Podrick smiled back,

“But wasn’t he… Lord Tyrion said that he was,” Podrick asked awkwardly,

“Yes Pod, he liked men. I am not an idiot. He didn’t love me. He didn’t want me. He danced with me because he was kind.” She explained.

She looked down, thinking back to the memories she had with him,“Nothings more hateful than failing to protect the one you love.”

Those words stuck with Podrick,

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

NOTE: Timelines shimelines amiright?

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totallynotsilversora · 2 years

Text

Hey nerds guess who made another thread about Vash's shooting skills during the finale of Trigun Stampede?

This nerd right here!

(( AGAIN! ))

Because Studio Orange has been driving me insane with how great Vash is as a gunman not just cinematically but realistically! I am NOT getting over this for a while my friends.

Of course, if you hadn't watched the finale yet and want to avoid spoilers, just know this post is gonna be filled with them and if you'd like to see my first analysis on Vash the Pro Gunslinger you can check it out here on tumblr and here on twitter before reading through this one!

Speaking of the bird, this post is also on twitter below:

Oh but wait, don't have one? No worries! I've retyped everything below so you don't have to look at the bird app if you don't want to!

All posts mention guns and shooting because otherwise this analysis would not work at all.

NOW LET'S ROLL!

First off, again, I’m going based on what I remembered from shooting air rifles & other research I’ve gained over the years! Second, I’m not an OG Trigun fan, so do take this thread with a grain of salt!

With that, let’s dive into THEE fight scene:

So right off the bat we’re getting Vash’s “smooth criminal” shot! Notice how he’s lining up his body sideways with his pistol vs forward like in the past. That’s exactly how you’re supposed to shoot one handed: feet shoulder width apart and aligned w/ the gun.

Normally you’d want both feet planted on the ground when firing but since Vash HAS to stay on the move to avoid getting hit AND is being a cocky little shit to his brother, he lets himself lean forward to fire and use that kick back to gently guide him into his next step.

Again, you NEVER fight what’s considered natural movement with a gun! You WILL get hurt! If you want to aim properly you NEED to be relaxed and composed. Vash isn’t fighting against the force of his gun, he follows it with the confidence and poise of a dancer on stage.

And speaking of dancing just look at how Vash makes Knives dance over puddles! Vash has impeccable aim yet he deliberately chooses to shoot in areas that could stun or stumble Knives, knowing he could block the shots, and distract him as he goes behind the corner.

Remember how I said lining up sideways is how you shoot properly? Here he’s firing straight forward using the corner as his shield. Had he not been holding a ticking bomb in his hand he would probably rest the gun on his other hand like he normally does on the rock jutting out.

The second he fired his last shot he dips down to reload and LOOK AT THAT!!

He is practicing proper trigger discipline again!!

You do NOT keep your finger on the trigger when loading in order to prevent misfire. That is BASIC SHOOTING SAFETY!!

And he does this throughout the fight!

When he turns away from Knives to make his way to the corner he lets go of the trigger before he turns back around to fire at him!

He can only hold 8 bullets in that gun and he will make each one count!

He can NOT afford to misfire.

Why??

Because that bullet he loaded was going STRAIGHT FOR KNIVES! Vash is NOT messing around! At this angle it looks like he aimed and could’ve hit Knives' NECK which would be super hard to dodge close range. Knives would have to bend backwards like he did here to dodge.

Shout out to everyone at Orange for the incredible work put into Vash and his shooting! There’s so much care into this show I can’t wait to see more!

Bonus: while we’re here, let’s get into Vash’s stellar reloads starting with this one (my absolute favorite) :

Remember how I said Vash was being a cocky little shit to Knives earlier?

Yeah this is it at it’s peak.

Faced forward, standing still til the last second, and very slowly reloading so Knives hears all 8 clicks before flying out the window.

This is just being mean lol XD

It's because we KNOW he can reload fast! The gif below might be faster by half a second but it's still RIDICULOUS compared to the first one:

Hell, he’s put individual bullets in the chamber midair and slammed a container of them in the SAME FLIGHT! MIDAIR!!!

He did NOT have to mess with Knives like that! Dude's flexin' hard.

In any case, I can’t recommend this show enough! The amount of work and detail put into not just Vash’s skills as a marksman but the acting and storytelling - everything is superb!! What an amazing experience!

Thanks again Studio Orange and Nightow! See you again, soon!

#trigun stampede #vash the stampede #marksmanship #analysis #trigun analysis #shooting #guns #gun #text post #GODDAMN I AM GOING BALLISTIC #LORD #took me way to long to figure out how to make gifs and compress them wtf happened internet

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wheels-of-despair · 9 months

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I Promise Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie gives Evil Woman something special during a quiet moment together on Christmas Morning '85. Contains: Sleepy Evil Woman, Playful Eddie Munson, teasing, biting, snark, fluff, Cinderella slander, a present, a rude interruption. Words: 1k

"Merry Christmaaas."

If you ignore it, maybe it'll go away.

"I know you can hear meee."

Eddie, who you imagine is probably propped up on his elbow looking down at you from behind, leans down to kiss the side of your neck. You pretend you're not melting inside.

"I can see you turning into a pile of gooooo," he whispers.

Your smile betrays you.

"Knew it."

You open your eyes and look at the clock beside your bed.

"Why are you waking me up so early on Christmas, jerk?" you grumble into your pillow and close your eyes again.

"You're supposed to wake up early on Christmas, Mrs. Jerk."

You move your face a few inches to a cooler stretch of pillow, fighting a smile.

Eddie's lips meet your neck again, and you try not to let on how much--fuck. You moan quietly and lean back into him.

"You like that?"

"Hate you."

"No, you don't," he chuckles. "You looove me and you want to be mine foreeeever and you want to turn over so I can give you a present."

"Now?"

"Mhm," he hums, nuzzling his nose into your neck. "While it's just us."

"Can't move 'til you stop that."

"Stop what?" he asks, leaving a light kiss behind your ear. He knows damn well what.

"That," you whimper, completely immobilized.

"Let me help," he says, removing his mouth and putting a hand on your shoulder to roll you over onto your back so you can see him.

His hair is a mess. You snort. He narrows his eyes.

"What?"

"You look like the newest member of Cinderella." You smile sleepily and reach out to touch his out-of-control hair. He catches your hand before you can reach him and places it on the bed between you.

"Alright, no present for you."

"Eddieee," you whine, reaching for his hair again.

"Nope." You're awake enough to play now, and keep trying to get your hands into his hair. He blocks your every move with a karate chop.

"Some people find that hairspray and spandex thing attractive," you tease.

"We are no longer speaking. Good day, madam." He pulls the covers over your head and holds them so he doesn't have to look at you. Instead of fighting to get out, you lunge at his faded Dio shirt and bite where you imagine his nipple is. He yelps and lets you go, meaning you weren't far off.

You emerge from beneath the covers with a smirk. He's leaning over the side of the bed, fumbling with the jeans he'd left on your floor last night. You fight the urge to push him… not completely off the bed, just enough to make him panic and flail a little. He surfaces with his hand clutched into a fist before you can act on it.

"You gonna be nice if I give you a present early?"

"Maybe," you grin.

He holds his hand away from you and glares.

You pout.

He raises an eyebrow and waits.

"Fine." You roll your eyes in defeat. "I promise I'll be nice." You bat your eyelashes innocently, knowing he'll never buy it. He proceeds anyway.

"Close your eyes."

You close them for a second before a thought occurs to you.

"Eddie, if I open my eyes and your balls are in my face, I'm gonna keep biting."

He snorts. "Shut up," he orders, reaching for your hand. You grin and let him. You feel him slide something onto your finger.

"Okay, you can look."

You open your eyes and look down at… a mood ring. It's pretty and silver and the colors are already swirling as it adjusts from Eddie's temperature to yours. You love it. You admire it for a second before returning your attention to Eddie's face. He's chewing on his lip.

"…you like it?" he asks nervously.

You look at it again and pretend to consider it, just to make him sweat a little. You crack after a few seconds and come in for a kiss. "I love it," you mumble against his lips. He smiles and kisses you back.

When you're out of breath, you lie on your backs. You hold up your hand and watch the ring's color change again.

"Well, it's definitely not a purity ring," you observe.

Eddie snorts.

"Is it a promise ring?" you ask, half-joking. Promise rings are for good girls who find their one true love at church at the age of 16 and can't wait 'til they're old enough to announce a real engagement.

"I promise I'll bite it off your finger if you call it that," Eddie threatens. You can hear the smile in his voice. "It's an I Love You ring. 'Cause I saw it and thought of you. 'Cause I love you."

"Very eloquent, Edward," you tease.

"Shut up," he grumbles, knocking your knee beneath the covers with his own.

You laugh and turn over, landing nearly on top of him. You rest your chin on his chest and look up at him.

"It's perfect, Eds. I love it."

"Yeah?" he asks, looking smug.

"Yeah," you smile. You're so in love with this doofus, you don't know what to do with yourself.

You lean forward for another kiss, but a knock on your door interrupts before you make contact.

"Get up, freaks, it's present time."

You sigh together but don't move to get up just yet. You stare at each other for a moment, just soaking up a few more seconds of your first shared Christmas morning. And then Eddie's stomach rumbles, pulling you out of your reverie with a grin.

"C'mon," you say with a kiss to the tip of his nose. "There's cinnamon buns and a stocking with your name on it that needs to be looted."

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x evil woman

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raaorqtpbpdy · 1 year

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Five-and-a-Half

Based on the Phic Phight prompt: Danny gets de-aged and Sam and Tucker have to take care of him til he's back to normal without anyone noticing. (from @yellow-rhymes-with-dna)

AO3 Link

[Warnings for mentions of past trauma]

Tucker had gotten used to a lot of strange things over the years, especially with a best friend like Danny. Giant robots controlled by a technologically controlled ghost he could deal with. A blob ghost hunter in a heavily armed mech suit was a piece of cake. An evil ghost king sucking their town into another dimension was more than Tucker alone could take care of, but he could at least keep his cool. Sam Manson showing up at their apartment with a five-year-old Danny was a bit much, even for him.

"Sam, I love you, but what the hell?"

"For the record, this was not my fault," Sam said immediately. "Danny was the one who pissed off Clockwork and got himself kidified. I told him to shut up twice, and we've both told him that the clock tower is not the place to hide from his royal duties."

"Who's this, Miss Sam?" Danny asked, looking up at the goth girl with wide, curious blue eyes. He was so small now that he had to reach his arm almost above his head in order to hold her hand.

"God, your cute," Sam said through gritted teeth, then sighed. "This is Tucker. You remember him, don't you?"

"Tucker?" Danny looked back at his oldest friend, shock written all over his baby-face. The two of them had met in preschool when they were three, and had been together ever since, first as best friends, and now in their little triad with Sam, So even de-aged as he was, Danny should know Tucker. "No way! He's way too big to be Tucker! He's old!"

"I'm not old! I'm only eighteen!"

"That's so old!"

"How come he calls you 'Miss Sam', all polite like, and he calls me old?" Tucker demanded with a pout.

"Can you let us in already?" Sam said, rolling her eyes at the question as she pushed past Tucker into the apartment the three of them got together when they started at the local community college. Sam and Danny had both desperately wanted to move out of their parents' houses, and Tucker wasn't about to be left out.

Danny had been so understanding and kind, insisting that they not hold themselves back just because he had to stay near the portal after high school. Of course, Sam and Tucker had completely ignored him and applied to Amity Park community anyway, even though either of them could've gone to a much better college.

"I take it he doesn't have his memories?" Tucker asked, closing the door behind them and going to sit on the couch.

"Nope," Sam confirmed. "He doesn't have his powers either. His body and mind have been completely reverted to his five-year-old self."

"I'm five-and-a-half!" Danny piped up.

"Right," Sam obliged, "his five-and-a-half-year-old self. I figure we'll wait for Clockwork to cool off, finish whatever work Danny interrupted, and then bring him a gift basket of time-pieces or something to butter him up and ask him to put Danny back to normal."

"I'm normal!" little Danny insisted. "I'm totally normal! My sister says so!"

"Of course you are Danny," Tucker agreed. "She didn't mean it like that."

"Until then, we have to make sure nobody sees him like this," Sam continued, "which means we have to keep him here and watch over him, at least for a few hours."

"Do you have any crayons?" Danny asked. "I wanna draw."

"Uh... I think Sam has some markers she might let you use if you ask really nicely," Tucker said, and Sam immediately gave him that look she gave him when she wanted to punch him but wouldn't because she loved him even if he was an idiot.

"Miss Sam, can I pretty please use your markers to draw?" Danny asked, very sweetly, batting his eyelashes the way Jazz used to to get whatever she wanted from grown ups when she was a kid. Sam clenched her fists and her jaw, but, much to Tucker's amusement, she seemed incapable of saying no.

"How did you live like this?" she shouted. Her combat boots pounded on the floor as she trudged to the studio/lab they'd converted the spare bedroom into. "Thank the Ancients I didn't meet him until we were in middle school. He's too damn cute—it's unbearable!"

"Is Miss Sam always such a pushover?" Danny whispered to Tucker.

"Believe it or not, she's usually pretty strict and bossy," Tucker whispered back. "She's just soft on little kids."

"Oh." Danny looked up at him, blue eyes strangely piercing, as if looking right through him.

It was strange. These days, Danny had gotten very good at masking his expressions to hide how he was really fearing. It was a skill he'd learned to hide his fear, to reassure civilians, and to show his enemies he wasn't intimidated, no matter the danger. But over time, that mask had edged into his personal life too. Danny put on a brave face, a reassuring smile, a too-wide grin, but his partners could never be certain what he was truly feeling. It sent a pang through Tucker's heart to see Danny's feelings so openly in his expression.

"Are you really Tucker?" the kid asked. "My best friend Tucker?"

"Yeah," Tucker confirmed. "Actually, I'm your boyfriend Tucker, and Sam's your girlfriend. A few hours ago, you were the same age as us, and then you got turned into a little kid."

"So I get a girlfriend and a boyfriend when I grow up?" Danny asked excitedly. "That's so cool! I must be pretty awesome to get both of them!"

"Tucker!" Sam chided as she came back into the room with her box of expensive, artsy markers. "Don't tell him that!"

"Why not?" Tucker asked. "What's it gonna hurt? It's not like this is his past self, it's his age regressed present self. I'm not changing the past, and if we lie, he'll be upset at us when he turns back." Sam's lips pressed together in a thin line as she considered his argument.

"Fine, I guess it won't do any harm," she relented after a moment. She put a stack of papers on the coffee table, but before she put down the markers she knelt down to look Danny sternly in the eyes. "Now Danny, these are very expensive, and very special markers, and they were a gift from my grandmother. You have to be careful with them and use them gently so you don't mess up the tips because if you do, I'll be sad. Do you understand?"

Danny nodded, brows set in determination. "I got it, Miss Sam! I'll be very careful with your special markers so I don't make you sad, I promise!"

Tucker could almost see Sam biting her tongue to stop from cooing as she put the box of markers on the coffee table and opened it up. She plopped down in front of the couch while Danny knelt next to the coffee table and uncapped a blue marker. "He's... such an earnest kid," she muttered as she leaned into Tucker's side. "It's different."

"Yeah," Tucker agreed softly. "He used to wear his heart on his sleeve. I never thought about it much, but it sucks that he can't really do that anymore."

"We've been by his side for so long, sometimes I forget how much more he's been through than we have." Her brows pulled together in a frown. "Why does he always go where we can't follow?"

For a long moment, Tucker didn't respond. He felt the same way she did. As much as they'd all gone through together, as much as they tried to stay by Danny's side, there always came a point where Danny had to forge ahead without them. "Because somebody has to."

Sam sighed and slipped a little further into Tucker's body, letting him wrap an arm around her. She was undoubtedly thinking of something melancholy that she'd eventually share at a goth poetry slam, but didn't want to talk about with him. Aside from physical reassurance, there wasn't much he could to about it, but he could do that much, and maybe offer a distraction.

"What are you drawing, Danny?" he asked the kid.

"I'm drawing a rocket ship!" Danny chirped, turning his head to grin at Tucker. Then he scrunched up his face. "You can't look yet! It's not done!"

"A rocket ship, huh?" Tucker asked. "Are you gonna draw yourself on the rocket ship?"

"Duh! I'm gonna be an astronaut!" Sam and Tucker wore the same sad smiles when he said that, both remembering the time they had to console him in the aftermath of his first physical exam after the portal accident. He'd discovered that because of his altered physiology, he would never be accepted into any space program, and he'd been utterly distraught. Now he was studying engineering, because he said if he couldn't go to space, at least something he'd built could.

"Can me and Sam be on the space ship with you?" Tucker asked.

"Sure!" Danny agreed cheerfully, his expression back to that beaming smile. "You guys can come with me!"

Tucker's heart ached. How many times had they heard Danny say, "You guys can't come with me. It's too dangerous for you." A dozen times? A hundred? Easily too many to bear, but they bore it anyway.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked. "Is the rocket going to the moon?"

"Nuh-uh," Danny shook his head. "We're going to 51 Pegasi b! They just discovered it a little while ago and it was super exciting! I read in my mom's science magazine that the guys who discovered it got nominated for a Nobel Prize because it's the first planet anyone's found orbiting a star like our sun! Its orbit is just four days long, and they think it might be the core of a decomposed star!"

"That's so interesting, Danny, tell me more," Sam encouraged, and Danny gasped in excitement at the invitation. He hunched over his drawing as he continued enthusiastically babbling about the planet his imaginary rocket was going to. Sam lifted her head to ask quietly in Tucker's ear, "Did he do this a lot as a kid?"

"Yeah," Tucker confirmed. "It's kinda why we got along so well. He would talk a lot about space, and I would talk a lot about computers, and we would go back and forth like it was a conversation, except we were just taking turns talking about completely different topics. Children of STEM parents with highly specific interests gotta stick together, y'know."

After a while, Danny interrupted his rant about space to show them that he'd finished his drawing. Despite being drawn by the unsteady hands of a five-year-old, they could tell clearly enough what it was. The rocket was gray, and each one of their faces smiled out from one of the three round windows.

"Look, that's me at the front because I'm the one flying the rocket, and Tucker in the middle, and Miss Sam in the back!" he said.

"Wow, Danny, that looks great!" Sam complimented.

"Yeah, I think this one goes up on the fridge," Tucker suggested, eyeing Sam with a devious look. "What do you think, Sam?" She looked back at him with a matching expression.

"Oh definitely," she agreed. Danny was going to be so embarrassed when he was back to normal, and the two of them could practically see their boyfriend's tomato-red face already. Danny grinned and let Sam take the picture from him to stick up on their fridge with one of the little ghost-shaped magnets Sam had bought for them. "Since we're in the kitchen, are you hungry, Danny?"

"I'm hungry!" Tucker said.

"How about some sandwiches," Sam suggested. "What kind do you want, Danny?" She already knew Tucker's favorite sandwich, Turkey, roast beef, and Swiss on rye bread. Since they'd all started dating, she'd even coaxed him into liking some vegetables, though she'd given up on convincing him or Danny to go vegan like her. Her own preferred sandwich was all vegetables, of course. Tucker liked to call it a salad on toast.

"Peanut butter and blackberry jam please!" he asked.

It was kind of funny. The Danny they now knew was so different from the five-year-old awkwardly climbing up onto one of the kitchen stools, but despite all that he'd been through and all that he'd changed, he still liked space and blackberry jam.

"Do you want the crusts cut off?"

"Yes, please!"

Tucker handed her three plates and cleared his half-finished homework off the kitchen island for them to eat at. He'd been working on it when Sam knocked—she'd forgotten her key and Danny couldn't phase them through the door—and then the situation with Danny had distracted him from going back to it. It was just calculus; he'd finish it later.

Sitting around the island, eating sandwiches, Danny asked them questions about his future.

"Are you guys astronauts?"

"No," Tucker said. "We're in college now. We'd have to finish to become astronauts. I'm studying computer programming."

"That makes sense." Danny nodded. "I remember you like computers and stuff. I'm studying to be an astronaut, right? What's Miss Sam studying?"

"Actually, you're studying engineering," Sam corrected, but when she saw the confusion on Danny's face she backtracked, not wanting to tell the child that he'd never achieve his dream. Once was more than enough. "But engineering is one path to becoming an astronaut." It wasn't a lie, even though she wasn't telling the whole truth. She changed the subject. "I'm studying ecology, with a minor in political science."

"And we all go to the same school?" Danny asked.

"Yup!" Tucker said. "We go to Amity Park Community College."

"A community college?" Danny frowned. He'd heard enough about college from his parents to know that a community college was not as good as a university, even if he didn't know the difference between the two. "We couldn't get into a University? Mom and Dad went to University of Wisconsin."

"It's not that we couldn't get it," Sam assured him. "We could have gone to much more prestigious—er fancy schools, but we wanted to stay in Amity Park. We have obligations here, at least for the time being."

"What kind of obligations?"

"We hunt ghosts," Sam said, trying to make it sound exciting instead of annoying. Tucker made a cutting motion to stop her from saying it, but it was too late. Danny's expression immediately fell into disappointment and he looked moments away from crying.

"But... but I don't wanna fight ghosts," he said. "Ghosts are stupid!" Sam blinked in surprise and looked to Tucker, only then seeing in his expression that she shouldn't have said that.

"Uh..." she cringed, visibly trying to find a way out of this. She liked kids, but she had no idea how to handle a crying child. Thankfully, Tucker chose that moment to step in.

"Danny, you have to know, that even though we hunt ghosts, none of us are anything like your parents, okay?" Tucker promised, his voice very gentle and earnest, in contrast to his usual sarcasm, a tone which all three of them shared. "Sometimes it's scary, but we would never hurt the ghosts, and we would never try to experiment on them. If they cause trouble, we make them stop, and send them home, safe and sound, okay?"

Danny started to cry, and reached out for Tucker, who picked him up and held him close to his chest, rubbing soothing circles into his back. "I d-don't like ghosts! I d-don't ever w-want to see a ghost!" Danny bawled.

"It's okay, Danny, you're not gonna see any ghosts," Tucker said. "We'll keep you far away from them."

"Y-you promise?"

"I promise."

Slowly, the tears subsided. Danny had tuckered himself out from crying and drawing, and fallen asleep.

"I'm sorry, I thought he'd think it was cool," Sam whispered, so as not to wake the sleeping child in Tucker's arms. "Why'd he react like that?"

"His parents have always been overzealous about ghosts," Tucker responded. "When he was really little, his parents rants scared him a lot. They talked about finding ghosts and running tests, and experiments. Most of their science talk didn't get to him, and he even thought it was cool, but something about ghosts got under his skin, even back then, you know?"

"I wonder why?" Sam said thoughtfully.

"I dunno," Tucker said. He started to shrug, but aborted the action when Danny hummed and shifted in his sleep. "Do you think Clockwork's calmed down yet?"

"It's been two hours for us," Sam said, looking at the clock on the wall. "So probably a year-and-a-half for him? Yeah, probably. The trick is getting him through the Fenton Portal into the Realms without his parents seeing."

"Yeah, and we don't have his invisibility and intangibility to help us out like we usually do," Tucker said. "So what? False tip?"

"Already on it." Sam's phone was already in her hand and she hit the contact for Fenton Works. When she spoke into the phone it was with a low, nasally voice that sounded nothing at all like her own. "Hello, am I speaking to the Fentons, the ghost hunters? Yes, this is Audrey Goldberg, and I have a ghost problem I hoped you could help me with. It's haunting my bathroom. Twelve-nineteen Pine Road. Yes, come as quickly as possible. Thank you." She hung up. "You got Danny?"

"Yup," Tucker confirmed. "Don't forget the key to Fenton Works."

"Right." They headed downstairs and out of their apartment building, walking to Fenton Works since Sam insisted none of them needed to get a car. It wasn't far, even carrying a kid. All the ghost fighting they did had eventually whipped even Tucker into shape. When he first realized he was getting some actual muscle, Tucker had worn sleeveless shirts for weeks. Neither of his partners said anything positive about it, but he knew they secretly love his muscles.

The GAV was long gone when they got there and Fenton Works was empty, allowing them to go in without any resistance. With Danny fully human, thanks to being de-aged, they didn't even set off the ghost sensors. They headed down to the lab and borrowed the Specter Speeder to go to the clock tower.

Navigating the Ghost Zone was a tricky thing, especially since everything within it was constantly in motion, but they'd figured it out, more or less. To be perfectly honest, even they didn't know exactly how they did it, but as long as they got where they needed to go, it didn't matter.

The door to the clock tower swung open when Sam knocked on it and they climbed up to the top, where Clockwork would be.

"Clockwork, buddy, how've you been?" Sam greeted.

"Samantha, Tucker," Clockwork said blandly. "I assume you've come to ask that I revert young Daniel back to his proper age."

"Yes please," Tucker requested. "I don't know exactly what he did to piss you off, but we really can't have our boyfriend as a five-and-a-half-year-old anymore. Humans have laws about that kind of thing."

"Very well, I suppose the Infinite Realms can't have a king so young either, or so human." Clockwork waved his staff and Danny rapidly aged back to his nineteen-year-old self. Tucker's knees buckled under the sudden increase in weight and the pair of them collapsed onto the ground. Danny woke up to sore knees and Sam hunched over laughing at them.

"Thanks so much," Tucker grumbled, trying and failing to sound sincere. "Now that we've got our boyfriend back, we'll get out of your beard."

"From now on, perhaps you'll think twice before coming to bother me just because you're bored, won't you Daniel?" Clockwork asked pointedly.

Danny blushed, and put a hand over his mouth before nodding. "Yeah, yup! Lesson learned."

"You're ears are steaming," Sam teased, even as she offered a hand to help each of the boys up.

"Shut up!" Danny said as she pulled him to his feet before helping Tucker. "Bye, Clockwork. Thanks for not making me go through puberty again."

"And if you don't disturb my work, I never will," the old ghost warned.

The trio headed back down the stairs and to the Specter Speeder. "You guys are gonna take that awful drawing off the fridge, right?" Danny asked.

"Not a chance in all the Realms," Sam said.

"Yeah, no," Tucker agreed. "If you even try to get rid of it, we'll make you regret it." Danny groaned and buried his face in his hand.

"I can't believe I did all that," he mumbled. "I cried like a baby and then fell asleep."

"In fairness, you were five," Sam said.

"I was five-and-a-half!" Danny snapped, put his face in his hands again. "Why did I say that?" His partners just laughed as they climbed into the speeder and flew home.

#phic phight 2023 #phic phight #fic #things i wrote #everlasting trio #dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #tucker foley #sam manson #de aging #dp clockwork

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thatwasntverycashmoneyofme · 1 year

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𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄

❥𝗌𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗍 : 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 (𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍)

{ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 — 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖼𝗈𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 (𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾/𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇), 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗌𝗒 𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗃𝗈𝖻, 𝖽𝗈𝗆!𝗈𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗈, 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗑𝗂𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖼𝗎𝗆 𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗏𝗈𝗒𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗆. }

"Fuuck obiitoo fuck~!" Your hands found the top of his head tugging against his silky black locks, not hard enough to tear from the scalp

His deep voice rupturing your eardrums. "Thought I told you not to touch me brat? And what did you call me?" You looked to see a scowl painting his glazed face

You whimpered apologies. "'M sorry daddy 'm so sorry didn't mean it." He hummed in disbelief and went back in between your legs, sucking on your clit like a pacifier.

Struggling to hold onto something your fingers grasped for anything, not wanting to ruin your husband's desk, you settled on your nipples pinching and twisting them

Rutting your pussy against Obito's face, your slick getting all over him, jerking as you approached one of the many orgasms that day

Your legs clamped his head, your hips stuttering as you begged him to stop. "Daddy please please please~" He ignored your thrashing and flailing

He clenched his arms around your thighs holding you in place continuing to eat you out like you're his last meal. "Ahh fuucck~"

You tried scooting back to get away, lifting your legs to kick him off, he took that as an opportunity to keep your legs lifted, placing his hands under the back of your knees

Crying out as you felt an uncomfortable pressure, you hit his arms pleading for him to stop, which of course he didn't, quickly leading you to another impending climax

"Shit daddy wait." Feeling a stream of clear liquid enter his mouth Obito pulled back, his tongue flopped out to catch more of the sweet liquid. he furiously circles your clit til the stream ceased

He slapped your pussy forcing your legs to close. "Open them now." He demanded as you whined, tears withdrawing from your eyes, spreading your legs as they quivered vaguely

When they were fully spread he slapped your clit twice holding one of your thighs. "Get on your knees brat." You got down from his desk

Legs buckled completing your order, knees meeting floor somehow avoiding the liquid you squirted. You chuckled a little looking up at Obito who held a smirk a soft snicker passing his lips

"You know how I like it right?" Obito looked sinful his appearance rugged; button down shirt wrinkled with the buttons undone, dress pants and briefs down to his ankles

The contrast of his eyes glowed inside of the dimly lit office. you bit your lip looking at the five course meal of a man that slouched in the chair, looking even finer with your arousal decorating his lower face

"I asked you a question didn't I?" You bat your lashes gazing at Obito's indignant features. "Yes daddy and of course I know how you like it." He hummed displeased. "Then get to it." You nodded

Arranging your position to get comfortable, you make eye contact grabbing Obito's dick. your thumb spreads the cum around his tip kissing it, he smirked down at you

You run your tongue along the skin of his shaft trailing back to the tip wrapping your mouth on it, circling your tongue, the somewhat salty tang tolerable

Deep throating him you gagged hearing him lowly groan, drool dripping to his balls that your hand slipped up to massage

You hallowed your cheeks bobbing up and down on his dick, watching as his eyes fluttered close, he thrusted up making you gag purposely

You lifted off him maintaining eye contact, his eyes harshly opened as you smiled before you spat on his dick your hand smearing the substance sloppily

Obscenely loud noises escaped from your motion. Obito threw his head back letting out an insanely loud raspy moan, almost choking when you put your mouth back on him throwing neck

"Damn brat you really know how to suck a dick don't you? Your lips look so pretty wrapped around it, can you even breathe?" You let out a loud pop removing himself from your lips

"Just for you daddy, yes I can breathe." You cheese up at him going back to task lightly squeezing his dick, stroking as you bobbed feeling it throb making the heat between your legs more prominent

"Shit sweetheart let me fuck your throat. Let daddy give you all his cum, 's just for you." You attempt to nod your head. now placing your hands on his thighs, he stood hunched over you

Hands firmly grabbed your face beginning steady at first grunting softly, he picked up the pace as you choked on his dick, the throbbing in his shaft intensifying

"Damn it brat take all this cum fuck take it all ahhh~" he growled booming voice filling your ears as he stilled, overfilling your mouth. your nose pressed to his pelvis

Trying hard not to pass out from lack of air, you held onto his hips gathering air into your nose, you gulped what you could of the thick white liquid

He plopped onto the chair once again sighing contently. He collected the cum that found itself in the corners of your mouth and on your chin with his thumb.

Sticking out your tongue he put his thumb on it, observing how your lips wrapped around him before popping off, a Cheshire grin plastered your face as you swallowed

You leaned forward staring at his semi hard dick before licking it clean pulling away to watch it jump, provoked by your action

He tsked fixing himself watching as your eyes glazed over having literal stars in them "You did good brat so I'll reward you when I get home later today."

Standing up on slightly wobbly but stable enough legs, you fixed your sundress pulling it over your breast straightening out the bottom, you bent to peck him on the lips

He grabbed you by the throat kissing you hard. his tongue dominated yours, you pulled away biting his lip staring at his eyes that rolled to the back of his head

"I gotta go now or you'll never get any work done." You pouted, compelling Obito to pull you close and smack your ass. "Always smart aren't you?"

You chuckled with a nod. "Your lunch break was over more than an hour ago you know?" Teasing him as he unwrapped from around you

You slowly walk away heading to the door. "I'm the boss sweetheart, I'll do what I please." You hum touching the knob. "Duh I know that daddy, bye now."

"See you at home brat— and thanks for lunch." He smirked as you felt your face heat up. "No problem." You left closing the door behind you.

You met the redden face of the new temp secretary that you offered your husband to hire, Suigetsu, who now buried his face into the computer before you greeted him

"Hello Suigetsu how are you doing today?" You gave him a soft smile. "Uhh yes I'm f-fine Mrs. Uchiha and same to you? I hope the day is t-treating you well?" He stuttered out

"The day is treating me exceptionally well, truly. Have a great rest of your day." He ogled your thick ass as you walked off, hips swaying from side to side with a sigh thinking to himself.

'Shit the boss got himself a trophy. Now how am I supposed to hand him this paperwork with a boner?'

𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌. 𝖣𝖮𝖭𝖳 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅, 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾. ©𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅

#city.writes #black writers #naruto smut #black reader #x black reader #black fem reader #x black fem reader #black yn #obito uchiha #obito x black!reader #obito x black fem!reader #citypresidential on wattpad

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bigbadbatch · 3 months

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In My Mind - Chapter Four

Chapter Four - Snow on the Beach

Warnings: Smut, sweet sweet smut. oral F receiving. Sadness. And a creepy guy. Impending Doom.

Word Count: 3.6k

Listening Recc's - Snow on the Beach, Illicit Affairs by T. Swift

I’m nervous.

I don’t normally feel this way, but today I do.

I admire myself in the floor-length mirror propped against the wall of my elegant embassy room in the Senate hall where all guests of the Peace Ball are staying. One of Padme’s handmaidens had been kind enough to come and help with my hair and makeup,as well as helping me to slip on this delicate, intricate dress. My hair is half up, soft ringlets framing my face, the rest cascading down my back. A thin necklace of diamonds sent by Manx graces my throat. It's worth at least several hundred credits, but its cost is nothing compared to the dress.

A light sky blue, the bodice is corseted and covered in the smallest of gems. The floor-length ballgown’s glittering skit swishes as I twirl for myself in the mirror, the layers upon layer of gauzy fabrics, all different shades of blue, seem to dance and shine and create the effect of an aurora in the low light of the room. Never in my life have I felt so lovely, so beautiful. A glimmering star in the sky.

A knock at my door shakes me from my wonderment. I open the door and Fives stands there, in a dashing black suit, his hands working on tying the tie at his throat.

“Keira, I need help I can’t get this damn thing to…. Wow.” He whistles and looks me up and down, earning him a batting on the arm. He chuckles softly.

“Wait til Rex sees you like this.” He smirks at me.

“Keep your voice down.” I say and join him in the hallway, hands at his throat, tying the tie for him.

“Manx will be here any minute and Anakin is coming for Padme sometime soon.” I finish his tie and straighten it for him, only then noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

“Are you still not sleeping?” I ask.

He shakes his head slightly. I give him a sad smile.

“I’m sorry the trinket didn’t work. Do you want to talk about the nightmare?”

He pauses for a moment, then says. “I’m on the field. We’ve just won a battle. An order comes through. It’s hazy, but I… we…” he trails off, a distant look on his face.

I hear heavy footsteps coming up the hall. Manx is strutting towards me, in a ghastly dark green suit. Fives turns and sees him and has to stifle a laugh. I elbow him hard.

“I see you’ve kept her safe for me. You look ravishing tonight, Keira.” Manx says and takes my arm in his rather than offering me his hand or any other gentlemanly gesture. He begins to walk me away and I cast a soft smile at Fives.

“See you in there.” I call and he nods.

The ballroom is much more grand than the one in Naboo. The ceiling is painted to resemble the night sky, with lights twinkling as stars. Dim warm lights are cast about the room, and the glittering ballgowns filling the room seem even more brilliant in this atmosphere. A quartet plays music in a corner, upbeat and classical. The floor is whirring with twirling, dancing bodies. Others stand along the edges, talking and sipping wine and champagne. I can’t help myself, I scan the crowd for Rex.

I see no shock of close-cropped blonde hair, no familiar face or smile. I deflate just a little. He isn’t here yet. Suddenly, I’m thrust into conversation with a Senator from Alderaan, and thus my night begins. I dance with strangers, I converse with Separatists, I drink with Republic members, and I gather intel. I have much to report on tomorrow evening when we return to Coruscant. So far I’ve successfully been able to ditch Manx, instead filling my time with reconnaissance efforts. Still, I have yet to see Rex. I’m starting to get worried.

A tap on my shoulder and I’m overjoyed, he must finally be here, I turn grinning, only to see the one person I’d been trying to avoid all night smiling at me.

“A dance?” He asks and holds out his hand. Knowing Chandrillan customs and that those around me heard him ask, I must oblige. I follow him out to the floor. A lilting, melodic tune plays, and we begin a classic dance.

“I see you received my gift.” He states, eyes lingering on my throat then creeping down to my breasts, sleazily. I clear my throat to draw his eyes back to mine.

“Yes. It is very appreciated. If you’d like, I can return it to you after the Ball.”

He laughs. “No, no, it was a true gift. But I wonder if you might want to thank me for it?”

Interally I groan but give him a saccharine smile.

“Thank you, Sir Manx.” His grin is blinding and turns my stomach. His hand tightens around my waist.

“I wonder if there is another way you might show your appreciation to me. It was no small price, you see.”

Is he serious?

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” I whisper to him harshly, and he is taken aback. His grip on me tightens.

“Watch your tone, girl.” He snaps through gritted teeth and spins me sharply.

The song ends and I go to leave.

“Another dance.” He demands, pulling me back to him.

Just then, a voice cuts through our tension.

“I believe it is my turn for a dance.” My heart finally picks up pace.

Manx, obeying etiquette, bows and leaves in a huff. Then he’s here, and his arms are around me at last.

“You’re here.” I breathe. He smiles at me brilliantly and holds me at arm's length. He looks me up and down, his face glowing, then pulls me back close. “You look… so beautiful.” He whispers to me, and sends me for a small spin. I’m drawn back close to his chest, this dance a slower, more romantic pace than previous ones. Rex wears a dark blue suit, complimenting his tan skin and golden hair. His tie seems to be made of the same material as my skirt, glinting and glimmering in the light. It’s hard to take my eyes off him but I know I must. This is a mission. I gaze around the room, at the other couples dancing the same way we are. I see Anakin dancing with a Chandrillan woman, Padme with a Separatist man. Then a thought occurs to me.

“Rex, will you get in trouble? For dancing with me?” I expect to see worry in his eyes but I only see a radiance I wish I could bottle.

“I’m only debriefing with my General about some important conversations I’ve heard tonight.”

I smile, it’s a decent cover. “And what have you heard?” I ask as we flit about the room.

“I’ve heard, from more than one, that you are the most breathtaking person here tonight.” I blush and look away.

“Hey.” He says softly, drawing my eyes back to his. “Truly, mesh’la. You are stunning. I am so lucky to be with you here tonight.”

My heart skips a beat. His hand is so warm in mine, and the one on my lower back is a comforting guide around the room. I try not to lean my head too close to his as he dips me, fearing I’ll kiss him out of want and habit.

The song slows and so do we, our bodies even closer, our faces cheek to cheek. “I want to remember this night forever, cyarika.” He whispers to me and I all but melt in his arms. We spin about the room and for just a moment, no one else exists. It's just me and Rex and the music. A smile never leaves my face.

The song ends, far too soon, and we step away, our eyes locking. I flick mine to his lips. I want nothing more than to kiss him, right here, right now. He hesitates and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.

“May I interrupt?” A soft, sweet voice divides us, and a lovely young lady looks expectantly at Rex. He nods and offers his arm to her for a dance, as is custom. I leave the floor, reeling.

Throughout the rest of the night, I catch glimpses of him, our eyes meeting at every turn and every brief moment between conversations and dances. Soon enough, The music dies down, and the dancing ends. I’m still aglow from my dance with Rex, but the flame is short-lived as Manx approaches me.

“Shall I walk you to your room?” He asks, innuendo in his voice. I flick my gaze around for Rex, and find him conversing with a few of the other guests security details.

“I.. uh…” I say. “Need to speak with my Captain. About the mission.” I say and excuse myself from him. I think that’s the last I’ll have to deal with him, that he will finally give up, but instead he stands there as I leave and seems to wait for my return.

Get a clue. I think. I approach Rex and he breaks from his little crew to speak with me.

“Everything okay?” He asks. I lean close and speak softly.

“Rex could you… ah.. escort me to my room? My chaperone would like to, but I don’t feel… safe should that happen.”

Storms flicker in his eyes and he gives a terse nod. “Ofcourse.” And I take his arm as we leave the ballroom and make our way towards the guest rooms. Once out of the ballroom I feel like I can finally breathe. “Thanks, I owe you one.” I whisper and grip his arm tight. He smiles and plants a quick kiss atop my head in the isolation of the hallway.

Soon, too soon, we are at my door. We stop and stand outside of it. “Tonight was… amazing.” I say and he smiles in agreement. There’s a pause, the air thick with unspoken intention and growing need. Looking in his eyes, I can’t take it anymore, and lean into his arms and kiss him. Without hesitation he kisses me back, our lips moving, dancing their own dance of the evening. The kiss is deep and it stirs in my soul the need for more and more of him. “Will you come in?” I ask. He says nothing, he can’t because his lips are on mine again, he only nods furiously into the kiss. His hands cup my face and I place mine on his chest as the kiss deepens even further.

Tonight, I decide, I will have him. This will mean something. Tonight.

We didn’t hear him coming.

“Rex.” The angry voice calls. We break apart in shock, and are met with a seething Anakin.

No. No. No.

Anakin had suspected but he didn’t know, hadn’t had proof until now.

“Walk with me.”

“Anakin please-“ I call but he holds up a hand.

“Rex. Now.”

Rex gives me a look, one of sadness and apology, and I want him to stay, I want him to fight back, but he takes his hand off my face and looks at Anakin.

“Yes, General.”

The two walk into the darkness of the hall and disappear into the night.

I slip into my room slamming the door behind me. In a daze, I try to make my way to the bed, but the skirt of my dress is too much, and the corset too tight, and I suddenly can’t breathe. Everything is colliding around me, the objects of the room swirling in the air. I fall to the ground and the room falls with me.

How could I be so reckless? Why wasn’t I thinking?

The force within me rains icicles, slicing down into my soul. I am so, so afraid. What will happen now? To Rex, to us? My body is wracked with sobs. I must find calm in this. I must find peace. I hear a darkness singing hymns in my ears, and I have to keep my wits about me.

In my pool of glimmering blue on the floor I ground myself and breathe. It’s easily an hour before I can set my heart to a normal pace, breathe as I should.

With this newfound calmness comes a determination. Fuck Anakin and his hypocrisy. He doesn’t control me, he isn’t my Master. I stand, muscles tensing. I’m going to go find them, and reason with Anakin. Force him to make this make sense, whatever issue he has with Rex and I. I gather my skirts and march to the door, flinging it open,

And there’s Rex, arm upraised as if to knock. I’m taken aback, not expecting this. His breathing is ragged, as if he’s just run a mile. His tie is undone and hangs around his shoulders and neck, and he’s lost his suit jacket, left only in his button-up shirt and slacks.

“Rex what are…” I go to ask but suddenly he’s in my room, closing the door behind him, and his hands and mouth are on me. He is trembling, from passion or what emotion I can’t tell, but he is hungry as a man starved.

“Just kiss me.” He says, needy, and I do. I kiss him back, hard. Our mouths open, and tongues explore each other's lips and mouths. He groans into my kiss and bunches his hands into my hair. He pulls from my lips and kisses the corners of my mouth, my cheeks, my chin and down my neck, suckling on my collarbone.

This will leave a mark, crucial evidence I didn’t imagine this whole thing up. I go to unbutton his shirt, but my fingers are fumbling and he has to help me. Once his chest is bare, I bring my mouth back to his and my hands explore every ridge and valley of his tanned skin and muscles. Every scar sends shivers up my spine as it passes beneath my fingertips.

“I want you, Cyare.” He moans into my mouth, “I need you, right now.”

I nod into his kiss unable to speak, and he growls reaching for the back of my dress. He is dismayed to feel the hundred jeweled buttons trailing down my back, trapping me in. I try to help him start unbuttoning me but before I can, his fingers are digging into the fabric and there is a terrific ripping sound as hundreds of jewels and gemstones scatter to the floor and the dress pools around my feet.

I am bare before him, having forgone any underclothes to hopefully tease him about it later but now, now I am for the first time fully undressed in front of him. He seems to hold his breath as he looks at me, his eyes burning into every inch of my skin as he scans me.

“You…” he breathes then kisses me. “You’re perfect. So beautiful.”

I struggle to breathe as my hands fly to his belt trying desperately to free him, but he catches my wrists and his arm is under my legs, scooping me up.

“I told you the next time we did something like this I wanted to taste you, and I meant it."

He sets me on the bed on my back, knees upwards. He climbs up on the bed, head between my knees, and gently parts them. He kisses a line from my knee all the way down my thighs until he’s nipping and marking up my inner thighs.

“Please, mesh’la, can I taste you?”

“Yes.” is all I can manage and he dives in. His mouth is hot on me, and immediately he drags his tongue from my core up to my clit, ending the motion by taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. I throw my head back and moan.

“Taste so fucking good, cyarika.” He says and continues, his tongue making soft circles around the sensitive bud, then lapping at the rest of me. I’m so wet for him, he must be drinking me at this point. As his mouth and tongue continue pushing me to the edge, I feel his fingers at my entrance. They slip into me and I clench around them, the sensation of both his mouth and his fingers almost too much.

“Rex…” I moan and writhe on the bed. He pulls up his other arm and drapes it across my hips, pinning me down. As I draw nearer and nearer to release, my hips attempt to buck and grind, but he holds me right in place.

“That’s it, beautiful.” He pants, “Come on my tongue. Want to taste you cumming.”

And I oblige him right there. The tension within me explodes and I feel like I do along with it. He withdraws his lips and hands from me as I come down, and I notice he is still clothed from the waist down. I sit up in a bolt, and reach for him.

“Patience, mesh’la.” He says. “Lay there and let me look at you. Please.” He nearly begs. I do. I lay there and watch as he so slowly, eyes on me, unbuckles his belt, then undoes his pants, slipping them and his boxers off and casts them aside. I expect him to start palming himself, to pounce on me, anything, but he just slowly moves up between my legs and sits back on his knees. I’ve been expecting voracious, hungry sex from him based on our past experiences, and this being the first time we have come this far. But he’s just looking at me, and then he’s leaning over me, and gives me the most gentle of kisses on the lips.

“Rex?” I ask, worry in my eyes.

“I want to take this slow. I want to take in every moment of this with you. Can we do that?” He whispers to me.

A hand on his chest and I nod, kissing him. He lingers in the kiss, then pulls away, positioning himself between my thighs.

“Oh, Keira.” He croons, and rubs the head of him between my folds, into my wetness. He’s right at my entrance.

“Ready, cyare?” He asks in a whisper.

“I’ve been ready for you.”

Slowly, he sheaths himself to the hilt inside me, and my back arches, my breath catches. He’s stretching me so beautifully, like I was made for him. Then he, well he isn’t fucking me, he’s intimate with me. He is slow, and thoughtful, and my body is filled with warm light. I’ve never had anything like this before. He’s moving in deep thrusts that reach the depth of my soul it feels. “Rex.” I breathe and he’s hunched, practically laying over me as he drives deeper and deeper with every thrust. My arms are gripping his back, his face buried in my shoulder.

This is bliss. This is prayer. This is meditation.

He’s calling my name, breathless, over and over, and I pull his face up to meet mine. Emotional, I’m kissing him, and something in this feels… off. Like the last sentence in a chapter.

He’s moaning now, and I’m echoing it. He’s picked up speed, and he’s really nearly pounding into me. Suddenly, his hands are wrapping around my back, and he’s picking me up, still staying deep in my core the whole time. I’m straddling his lap now, and he’s picking me up and slamming me down onto him. I grind my hips into his on the downstrokes. Our lips don’t leave each other until we both feel ourselves coiling, colliding, reaching up and up and up.

“Can I…” he asks. “Where can I come, baby?”

I’m enraptured, and there’s only one thing I want. It’s safe but it always puts this sort of thing on an edge.

“Inside me.” I breathe and it must be what he wanted to hear because his strokes are hard and his voice and breath ragged in my ear. We both spiral out of control until we reach the stars. I feel him tense beneath me, and I’m spasming around him in response as we both reach climax together. The walls of the room glitter in my vision.

So gently, he sets us both down to lie in the bed, pulling himself from me in the process. We lay there for a few moments, my head on his chest with his hand in my hair. He places the sweetest of kisses on my brow and I look up at him.

“Rex?” A tone of fear in my voice.

“Not tonight, sweet girl.” He says. “I just want to be with you tonight.”

My heart hurts. I cuddle into him as closely as I can. I don’t realize when I fall asleep in his arms.

---

The sun filters into the lush room, warming the far corners of the bed. I blink slowly awake. Rex isn’t here. I sit straight up in bed and call out, in case he’s in the fresher. Nothing. His clothing is gone. No trace of him ever having been here besides a small holoscreen on the table near the bed. I jump up and play the message stored on it. Rex’s hologram flickers to life. He sits on the edge of the bed, my sleeping form visible in the background.

“I’m sorry mesh’la.”

He says and already I start to panic, tears springing to my eyes.

“By the time you wake up, General Skywalker and I will be gone. We will be on extended missions for the foreseeable future.”

No.

“Fives will be with us as well.”

I’m falling apart. Both my boys? Gone, leaving me alone?

“The General feels this is for the good of the team. That we have lost sight of the war efforts. Keira, I never lost sight of what was important.”

Its hard to see in the blue glow of the holo, but there are tears in his eyes.

“Tonight meant something to me. I hope it meant the same for you. “

I’m crying.

“Please Rex, no.”

But in the holo he looks back at my sleeping body and kisses my crown.

“Goodbye mesh’la.”

And the holo cuts out.

#star wars #clone troopers #captain rex #taylor swift #tcw #star wars the clone wars #ttpd era #midnights era #taylornation #the clone wars #the clones #clone wars #captain rex x oc #rex x oc #smut #fluff

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puddingvalkyrie · 1 year

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The Midnight Oil Café

(Working title)

The girl walked in and looked around. It was pretty cosy in here; bright, patterned curtains, chunky wooden furniture. Every table had a little vase of flowers and a candle. The light would fade soon, and she was surprised the café was open this late.

“Sorry to come in so close to closing time,” she apologised. “How long do I have? I don’t want to get in your way...”

“All night,” came the answer. The barista turned around and leaned on the counter. He flicked a strand of his curly, black fringe out of his dark brown eyes. “We’re open ‘til dawn.” He flashed her a smile. “What’ll it be?”

“How much is your cheapest drink?” the girl asked. She looked around for a menu. There was a blackboard propped up on the counter, but it had no prices.

“Oh, it doesn’t work like that,” the man gave her another smile, this time showing his teeth. They were pointed. “We give you a drink, you give us a drink.” He leaned on the counter with both elbows, chin in both hands. “How about it?”

“Uh...”

“NO. No!” came a loud objection from a room behind the counter. A woman wrapped in colourful shawls with a cloud of chestnut hair tied in a high ponytail emerged with her hands on her hips. “We said we’re not doing that!”

“But the customers expect it!” the barista complained, standing back up.

“Don’t be fooled,” the woman addressed the girl. She took the man’s chin in one hand while she pointed at him with the other. “He’s not a suave, sexy vampire, he’s a DISASTER.”

“I can relate...” the girl said, before she could stop herself. “To the disaster part, at least...”

“It’s free,” the woman said. “IF you want to become a blood donor, great, we’re looking. If you don’t, you don’t. The two things are unconnected. What’ll it be?”

“It’s... It’s really free?”

“100%.”

“I’ll just take a mudleaf infusion please.”

“You got any special dietary requirements?” the woman asked. “Allergies?”

“No. Um, I’ve had mudleaf before... no issues.”

The girl sat in a corner. The sun was setting. She’d known this place had vampires, but this wasn’t how they usually worked... They were supposed to fly around at night and if you had a thing for vampires or whatever possessed people to become donors, you stood on your balcony in the evening. As far as she was aware, they didn’t bring tea and crumpets to the occasion. Bit hard to carry, when you’re a bat.

“There you go, honey.” The woman put down a mug brimming with tea and slid over a plate. “Sorry if you don’t like eggs. Or garlic. Or parsley. Or butter.”

“I didn’t order food,” the girl protested.

“You look like you need it.” The woman lit the candle, then walked away.

The girl looked at the gently steaming egg, drowning in green-flecked butter. It would go cold pretty quickly. Pessimism fought hunger, and hunger won. The egg was delicious. The place was open all night, huh? This corner had a sofa, and it had plenty blankets draped over it... would they notice if she slept? Wait. Maybe that was the plan. Get customers sleepy and...

“You can sleep there if you want,” the barista told her, making her jump. “I’ll keep an eye on your stuff.”

“I don’t, um, I don’t have any ‘stuff’.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Can I... can I maybe wash dishes or, or something?” Maybe it was better to stay awake. Keep busy.

“Are you looking for a job?” the man asked.

“Yes,” the girl replied, an idea occuring. She’d meant to go further, but... they wouldn’t look for her here, surely? The job would be at night, she wouldn’t have to risk being seen. Was she really far enough away, though? She could stay a few days and then leave. “Just for a, a week, maybe?”

The two vampires shared a look. “What’s your name, honey?” asked the woman.

“Amara,” she replied.

“This is Taran and I’m Divina,” the woman replied. “If it means anything to you, he’s a Le Fanu and I’m a Stollenheim.”

“Oh. Um." It rang a distant bell. There were only a few vampire families, and fewer successful ones. Their names came up in the paper occasionally. Not that she paid attention to world news. What did it matter to her? She did wish she’d paid a little more attention. “...Not really, no.”

“No?” Taran scratched his head. “I suppose no news is good news.”

“There’s not much to do right now, so if you want, you can sleep for a few hours,” Divina told her. “You need a place to stay?”

“Yes, but... I’ll figure it out later.”

“Like I said, you can sleep there,” Taran said. “We’re kind of expecting it. For people to need to sleep.”

“This is new to us, too,” Divina explained, seeing Amara’s confusion.

“We only just opened and no-one’s ever done this before. That we know of,” Taran added.

“Why?” Amara asked. “Why a café?”

“Balcony trawling’s not my style.” Taran wrinkled his nose.

“We actually met balcony trawling,” Divina continued. “We’d both had a bad night, and after some bickering and venting...”

“Why does EVERYONE expect a relationship?!” Taran exploded. “I just want to be friends! I need at least three active donors and I am NOT polyamorous! I’m not anything-amorous!”

“I keep telling you, if you insist on doing the suave vampire act, people will think you’re hitting on them,” Divina told him.

“I’m not hitting on them, I’m just being, you know, cool?” Taran replied. “I’m a cool guy.”

Divina laughed. “You are. But you have to stop doing that, hun. If you want the romantic advances to stop.”

“Why didn’t, er, why didn’t you like it?” Amara asked Divina. “The balcony... balcony... patrolling?”

“Similar reasons,” Divina replied. “Plus I just feel like there’s a better way. I need blood to live, others need food, why not do something about it?”

“So, uh, the pay...” If she was going to do this, she better do it right.

“We’ll give you room and board,” Divina replied. “Plus, say, 3 Crowns a day spending money? How’s that?”

Amara blinked. She couldn’t possibly have heard that right. “For washing dishes a few hours a night?”

“I’m sure you’ll be doing more than that,” Divina said.

“Like?” Amara tried not to squeak.

“Like getting us fresh ingredients, baking, serving customers,” Divina clarified. “I’ll write you up a contract. It’s quiet, so I can do it now.”

“Nothing blood related, right?” Amara asked.

“Oh, we can’t afford paid blood donors, honey,” Divina told her. “You gotta be royalty or near as damn it for that.”

“Okay then,” Amara agreed. “Sorry I just... I already had one bad contract.”

“Is that what you’re running from?” Taran asked.

Amara hunched up. “I don’t want to talk about it. I want to pretend it doesn’t exist.”

“What were we even talking about?” replied Taran obediently. “Divina?”

“You were going to show Amara the kitchen and where we keep everything and what’s on the menu and everything else our new star employee needs to know,” Divina prompted.

“I thought I was the star employee.” He pouted at her.

“The nice thing about stars is, there’s more than one,” Divina pointed out.

He held up a finger. “Ah, then I shall aim to be the moon, my dear Divina.”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about.” She smiled and shook her head.

“Follow me, follow me, follow the kitchen wizard.” Taran beckoned to Amara.

“He’s never used a stove in his life, don’t listen to him,” Divina remarked.

“Do you want me to show her the kitchen, or don’t you?” Taran shot back.

“Yes, yes, go ahead,” Divina replied. “Work should be fun. I, meanwhile, shall be writing the contract.”

“Sounds super fun. I am so jealous.” Taran replied.

“The equipment doesn’t look that different than the kitchen at... at my old place,” Amara remarked, ducking under Taran’s arm and eyeing the place critically. It was a lot smaller, barely bigger than a domestic kitchen. “Can you really serve customers with this?”

“We’re not exactly expecting a lot of customers,” Taran explained. “Not at first, anyway. I guess we’ll just adapt as we go along?”

“Yeah...”

“You worked in a kitchen before then?” he asked.

“Y-yeah.”

“It doesn’t exist, gotcha.” He drummed his fingers on his cheek. “What’s your favourite kind of cake, Amara?”

“Um... ginger. The housekeeper used to make us this delicious apple and ginger cake, before, before she...”

“Sorry, sorry.” Taran scratched his head. “Non-kitchen question. Uh. Favourite... drink? No. Favourite animal?”

“We weren’t allowed pets,”-Taran winced-“but I loved to go to the woods and listen to the birds sing.”

“Birds, huh?” His face lit up. “Then check this out!” It was as though she blinked, but Taran was gone and a little nightingale stood in his place. The bird fluttered up to the table and sang. The delightful warbling echoed around the whole kitchen.

Another blink, and Taran was sat on the edge of the table.

“We don’t do the bat thing in my family,” Taran explained. “Gran likes birds. I’m really sorry though, I really think that’s all I got before we have to talk about kitchens again.”

“It’s alright.” Amara steeled herself. “I shouldn’t ask for a job in a kitchen if I don’t want to think about kitchens. So. Where’s the pantry? I saw sponge cake on the menu, but I don’t see any. I’ll make one. That’s, that’s alright isn’t it?”

“You’re very observant,” Taran complimented her. “Go ahead. I’m sure Divina will be happy. We didn’t want to make much today while we gauge how much business we’re gonna have, so we’re deliberately low on non-drink items.”

“And DONE,” Divina announced some minutes later, waving a piece of parchment triumphantly at the doorway.

Taran nodded to Amara. “Go and look. I’ll finish this. It just needs to go in the oven until it’s golden brown, right?”

It was a fair contract. Good, even? Suspiciously good. Room, board, 3 Crowns a day pocket money, all as Divina had said. She could leave any time without notice, and she would work no more than six hours a day, though she was required to be on call for longer than that; the time the cafe was open and a little before that. Of course the main catch was that the café was open late into the night. It opened at 8pn and closed at 2bn.

She hesitated as she held the quill above the line. They wouldn’t find her here if she worked at night. Right? Room and board. Spending money. Not that she’d be spending it. She’d be saving it for an emergency. A different emergency, that is. She was already in an emergency. She could leave any time. She could leave ANY TIME. Her hand shook as she signed, giving her a wobbly signature.

Taran emerged from the kitchen.

“Divina. Divina, I have a newfound passion for baking.” He gestured to the finished cake on the table. “Why have I never tried baking before? It smells amazing. It looks amazing. I get to decorate it." He bit his lip. “I wanna make more cakes, Divina.”

“We’ve got enough cake so I’m going to need you to find a newfound passion for soup,” Divina replied.

“Will do.” Taran gave her a three fingered salute. “Newfound passion for soup in three, two... now!” He turned on his heel and disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Do you need to sleep?” Divina asked Amara.

“Should I not stay awake? To adjust my sleeping pattern?” Amara asked back.

“Hmm. Yes, but... maybe not all at once? Go take a little nap. I’ll wake you in an hour or so.”

Amara stared at the ceiling of her new room. And it was genuinely her room. She’d never slept alone before. She’d always been in bunk beds and hammocks. In servants’ quarters. Or the orphanage. She doubted she’d be able to sleep, but she had walked all day. She wanted to sleep. What was this feeling? It wasn’t safety. She wouldn’t feel safe here. It wasn’t like the woods. They’d never found her in the woods. Not once. If she could’ve lived in the woods, she would have. She didn’t feel safe, but she didn’t feel threatened either. Neutral. She felt... neutral. That would do. But she also felt hungry and tired and she didn’t really know these people. Vampires, huh? They had nothing on the orphanage director. Nor the workhouse foreman, and definitely not Lord Branndil. At least vampires only wanted your blood.

She tossed and turned, but it was no good. She went downstairs.

“Can I buy some of the paint I saw in the kitchen?” she asked. “Black, white, brown, green? Perhaps yellow and blue? You can take it out of my wages.”

“You don’t need to give up your wages,” Divina reassured her. “You paint too, huh? We sure got lucky. What do you want to paint?”

“My room. It’s just so... beige.”

Divina nodded approvingly. “It is, that. Paint away. Wait, though.” The vampire narrowed her eyes at the girl. “You eat, first. And you get another drink. If I’m right, that egg you had is all you’ve had all day.”

“You are right.”

“Here, sandwich.” Divina plucked a plate from the counter and thrust at Amara. “And cut yourself a slice of that cake you made.”

Amara blinked. “Isn’t it for the customers?”

“We have to eat too.” Divina shrugged. “Besides, what the customers don’t eat, we’ll have to eat the leftovers. Keep that in mind and don’t make too much. Speaking of which, can you check on Taran? He’s not left the kitchen since I saw you last and I didn’t want to leave the counter unmanned.”

Amara found Taran with his nose inches from a book on the counter, with four different pots on the boil, and spices everywhere. He threw a good pinch of one herb in one pot then sprinkled a spice into another. He tasted a little of each. He added even more herbs.

“Um. Divina said we mustn’t make too much,” Amara cautioned, her voice wobbling.

“What? Oh. Yeah. Yeah, yeah. Try this, will you? I think it needs a little something.” Taran gestured to the first pot. I’ve been experimenting with different things but I just can’t quite get it how I want it.” Amara took a spoonful and blew on it. It tasted okay, but bland. “Try the others for me?” She tried one after the other. They all had slightly different flavour profiles but were still bland.

“Did you ... add salt?” she asked.

“The recipe didn’t say so, so no,” Taran admitted.

“This recipe book is pretty old.” Amara picked it up and flipped it over. “The old ones don’t tell you to add salt, because they assumed everyone knew to do it.”

“I’m not everyone, recipe book!” Taran stuck out his tongue at it.

“It’s okay. Just add some now. Um, I’d also recommend adding some more onions and garlic.” Amara gave the pots a stir, bringing up the vegetables to inspect them. “It’ll probably be a mushier soup than you maybe wanted but it’ll be okay.”

“I was going for max mush, so that’s not a problem.” Taran wiped his brow. “Big relief. I thought I’d wasted a whole day’s ingredients.”

Amara sat and ate her sandwich. She made herself an infusion from the giant pot of clear water gently bubbling on the other side of the kitchen. She sipped the brew and let her tired eyes wander over the kitchen. Something was off.

“How are you keeping these fires going?” she asked. “I don’t see any fuel.” There was the one under the hot water and the four little ones under the soup pots.

“Magic,” Taran replied. “We need to find a better way if we can, though. The more magic I use, the more blood I need. I’ll go balcony trawling if I have to, but the point of this place, besides feeding people, was to NOT have to do that.”

“How often do you have to?” she asked.

“Once every two months, if I use barely any magic,” he answered. “More like once a month though.”

“Oh. That’s a lot less than I though’,” Amara mused. Did she just slur a word?

“How much did you think?” Taran asked, tilting his head to one side.

“Every day? I don’t know. Jus’ a lo’ more.” She blinked her eyes repeatedly. Was the kitchen always blurry?

“Only true vampires need that much,” Taran explained. “I’m a great grandson so my situation is much improved.”

“Hmm.” Amara almost face planted into her drink.

“Woah, maybe go to bed?” Taran suggested, diving forward to move her cup out of the way. “Don’t get a faceful of hot, scalding liquid.”

“Couldn’ slee’,” Amara mumbled. “Can’ slee’. Maybe in th’ woodsss...” She saw Taran dart forward again before she blacked out.

Amara jerked awake. She was in bed. A strange room. Beige. So very beige. The sun was shining strongly through the open curtains. She sat up so fast her head spun. What happened? She’d run away in the night. Walked all day. All day, barely stopping. Came to a cafe. Cafe. Vampires. She’d asked for a job. Contract. Soup. Vampire making soup. She’d suddenly been incredibly sleepy. Incredibly sleepy. Vampires.

Her hand shot to her neck. Nothing. She got up and inspected it in the small mirror hanging over the wash basin. Still nothing. She turned for the door and nearly tripped over a stack of tins. Paint. She’d asked for paint. There was a note.

‘I had to carry you upstairs, I hope that was okay?

You’d fallen asleep on the table.

It turns out SOMEONE can’t tell medicine herbs from cooking herbs and the soup got doused with sleeping nettles.

Divina’

A second part was in different handwriting:

‘I am so sorry Amara. The offending herbs have been identified and removed from the kitchen. The offending person has been identified (it’s me) and removed from the kitchen (temporarily).

Taran’

“That explains that then. Hmm.” Amara stared at the note for a long time. Finally she blinked herself back to reality and turned her attention to the paint. They’d included a set of brushes and a couple of cups of clean water. Amara picked up a brush.

By the time Divina knocked on the door to check on her that evening, the walls were covered in trees.

----

First new thing I've written in some years! I need to edit my first draft of Zaran's book but like. I don't wanna.

This is also basically a first draft. I don't normally post things this fresh for other people to read but like... I wish to get something out there.

I know it's lacking in description especially.

#vampires don't belong in fairytales #vdbif #vampire #vampires #vampire oc #original work #writing #writblr #midnight oil cafe #divina von stollenheim #taran le fanu #alicia l wright #puddingvalkyrie

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tea-with-evan-and-me · 9 months

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Part 4: The Tie

I'm home for three days so I'm starting reno on my kitchen when my phone pings. My heart skips a beat when I realize it's Evan.

"Hey, can I call you? Its urgent" reads the text.

I don't respond, I just hit the call button. Evan picks up on the second ring.

"Hey, what are you up to?" He sounds frazzled

"Epoxying my kitchen counters." I reply

"By yourself?"

"Yea. I've done it before"

"That's...different" he sounds amused and a bit impressed. He speaks again "I am having a really big issue and I feel bad bothering you when you are in the middle of a huge project" his voice a bit shaky.

"No worries. What is it?" I ask

"Well I completely forgot to order the tie. I have the vest and no tie. It just dawned on me. And it's been awhile since I ordered the vest. Can you possibly look into it?"

"Ok. Where are you right now?"

"Uhhhh, BFE Canada. They needed a reshoot on a couple things from my last project. That's why I'm calling you. They have a gas station in this town. Like, that's it" he sighs.

I laugh. "Yea I don't think you're going to find a tie in soft pink at the BFE Canada gas station"

He softly chuckles and it sends shocks through me. Concentrate, I tell myself.

I speak again "Let me see if they can still order it. I don't see why not. I will call you back.

"Thank you so much and I'm so, so sorry" he says

"You're welcome. Hang tight I will get back to you ASAP"

I hang the phone up and immediately call the suit store. I talk to a fairly unfriendly woman who seems annoyed that yet another customer doesn't have their "shit together." I want to tell her to give the poor guy a break but then figure I don't even have to tell him about this conversation. After a bunch of sighing and snarky comments on the clerk's end, we have ordered a tie. I pay forty freaking dollars for a rush delivery, but it has to happen.

I call Evan back

"Hey, what's the verdict?" Is his greeting

"Well I had to pay forty bucks for rush delivery on top of the price for the tie, but it will be here in 3 days"

"You are amazing. Can you pick it up? I'm back in like 5 days and have a couple things to do. I will pick it up from you as soon as I can"

"That's fine" I reply. The word amazing ringing in my ears. Shoot me a text when you are stopping by."

We say bye and hang up. Well, at least I'm helping I think as I go back to what I'm doing.

-----

My doorbell rings. Evan is standing on my porch and he is a sight for sore eyes.

I open the door. "Hey! How's it going?" I say

Evan hugs me and I am not expecting it. But, I hug him back of course.

"Thank you for helping me out. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it" he says softly in my ear.

I shiver. "No problem! But, bet you can't wait til this wedding is over" we both laugh.

"It's ok. At least I've met some interesting people."

I wonder what he means by that. He can't possibly be talking about me.

I joke around, but I'm also fishing. "Oh? Who have you met that's interesting besides me?" I flip my hair and bat my eyelashes and then laugh.

"Well, I went out with Heather last night. She got my number from Julie" I can't read his face. He is looking right into my eyes as if watching my reaction.

"Heather?" I say confused and then I realize Heather is miss"Blonde Bombshell" herself. Oh. Shit, really? I hide it as best as I can "Oh, nice. She's pretty. Did you have a good time?" I ask. I wonder if he can tell I'm holding my breath.

"Well, she's nice. But, I can't tell if it's fake or not."

Like her boobs? I think to myself.

"I don't really know her, so I can't help you there" I say to him and shrug. Trying to put the kabash on this conversation.

"She's, uh, not like you. You seem like you keep it pretty real. You kinda have to for the line of work you are in, I guess."

I can't hide my shock that the words even came out of his mouth.

"Uh, well, It kinda forces you to be real for sure" I reply. Blushing.

"Are you going to see her again? You might need more time to get to know her. " I say encouragingly. Although I don't feel enthusiastic about it.

"I'm not sure. But, that's for another day. Oh, here's the money for everything." He pulls a bank envelope out of his back pocket. "I can't thank you enough."

"No, problem" I take the envelope

"Hey, are you going to Vegas for the Bachelor/Bachelorette party in a couple weeks?" He asks with a smile.

"I am super excited for it." I reply, returning a smile.

"Good. Me too. Should be a good time"

#its the epoxying of the kitchen counters for me #hehe

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juneyjubilation · 2 years

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Headcanons and Drafting for Toby Rogers x F!Reader

A/N: this one is purely self indulgent, and no i will not apologize. someone's gotta support me emotionally, and i am going to be the one to do it. am i writing a self indulgent x reader for my own mental health? yes absolutely. i just hope someone else enjoys it, too. _ _ _

Reader isn’t fucking a literal baby, she is not scared of blood and gore nor does she even comment on it. She is morbid and very curious.

She owns her own ceramic studio in a small town in the woods with an apartment above it. With an annoyingly loud and stinky cat that she loves very dearly.

Toby, after a mission finding his way through the studio's back door, assuming the building would be empty at night, collapses due to blood loss. He did not realize that the owner of the studio actively lived above it.

Reader hears glass shattering and a thud, assuming she's being robbed, grabs a bat and goes downstairs to finally go absolutely ape shit.

Instead of being robbed she sees an unconscious man bleeding out with goggles and a mask on and two hatchets soaked in blood next to him.

Snitches get stitches as they say– she doesn't know what this man is capable of so she runs to grab a first aid kit and begin working on him. She keeps his mask on him and such on him so that he has that anonymity but she absolutely has to fight his dead weighted body to get the sweater off in order to work on the wounds. READER HAS KNOWLEDGE OF BASIC FIRST AID. SHE IS NOT CLUELESS.

She definitely is not strong enough to move him, but after completely bandaging him she brings a throw blanket and pillow down and puts it over him along with a glass of water next to him with a sandwich in a baggie and ibuprofen. She then goes upstairs, locking the door and waiting out til morning. Once he’s gone she’ll report the damage to her insurance company.

THIS COULD BE MULTI-CHAPTERED OF HIM COMING BACK TO VISIT AND A SLOW BURN LOVE STORY. For a while it is silent stalking. I'm not going to lie to you.

I want there to be angst of her being affected lightly by the slender sickness, and Toby having to step away because he doesn’t want to hurt her more or drag her into this.

READER HAS A MOMENT WHERE THEY COMPLETELY FUCKING SNAP WHILE TOBY’S GONE. THEY FUCKING KILL THEIR STUDIO HELPER AND STUFF THEM IN THE KILN.

Toby coming by finally because he just feels that somethings wrong and she's just sat in front of the kiln shell shocked, there’s no longer any screaming from inside, and she just looks at toby. “I just killed my employee.” she’s void of emotion

And this is the last thing Toby wanted for her. He wanted her to live peacefully and not have the seizing or the loss of function in her body the way he did. And he will blame himself for that later, but now is not the time.

She needs help and support, and to not be near that fucking kiln right now. He will wrap his arms around her and bring her upstairs, sit her on the couch and he’s twitching so bad he can't stop from the sheer nerves of it all. But he knows she needs support. He sit down to give her water like she did for him, and gave her the help she gave him. To repay her kindness to him.

Once she comes down from the shock he begins to explain to her everything, the faceless man who controls people, how he knows she didn’t mean to do it, how he is sorry that this happened in the first place. That he feels guilt for dragging her closer to him, out of selfishness. Out of loneliness. But now she’s stuck and he’s stuck too. All she can do is try to continue running her shop and hope that maybe one day her and toby can live happily and peacefully.

A lot of this fic is her experiencing the worst pains in existence while Toby is trying to hide her from the other proxies for as long as he can because he doesn’t want her to have to be like him. Because once she starts it is a domino effect.

#juneydrafts #toby rogers x reader #ticci toby x reader #toby erin rogers x reader #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta x reader #toby rogers x you #toby erin rogers #ticci toby #toby rogers #fanfiction

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wheels-of-despair · 10 months

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The First Lazy Thanksgiving Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie comes to stay with Evil Woman during Thanksgiving Break '85 for a lazy and turkey-filled few days... but do holiday plans ever actually turn out the way they're supposed to? Contains: Lazy plans gone awry, unscheduled visits from unwanted family, food prep, stolen moments, fast-forwarding through stressful things because it's my story and I can, cunty relatives, smokin' the reefer, a proposal, leftovers, lots of time spent with Team Evil Woman. (If you're not into the family fics, I won't hold it against you.) Words: 7.8k

Note: This one goes out to everyone who'd rather be spending today with Eddie.

"What's your favorite Thanksgiving food?"

Eddie looks over at you without missing a note in the song he's practicing in his chair. You're lying on your side on his bed, one hand propping up your head and the other still on the book you've abandoned in favor of watching him play Other Sweetheart.

He shrugs and looks back down at his flying fingers. "All tastes the same to me."

"What." It doesn't come out as a question, because it is an outrage. You know that Wayne works so much overtime during the holidays, he doesn't even bother coming home, and that the Munsons aren't big on family meals… but has no one ever invited him over for Thanksgiving dinner? Even for a round of leftovers? Or sent him a plate?!

"We usually grab a few Thanksgiving-y TV dinners for when he gets off work." Eddie holds his guitar upright and plays a more complicated tune to downplay his explanation.

You feel guilty for leaving him alone last year. You'd only been with him for a few months, but you'd gone back to the place you'd just escaped from to spend another stuffy Thanksgiving with your family. That's what he did while you were away? Ate a tasteless TV dinner?

"No, wait," he says quickly, "Jeff's mom made him bring me a plate last year. Stuffing was the best."

You try to mask the pity on your face, but he notices. His eyes turn to steel.

"I'm not a charity case. The Munsons don't need to celebrate meaningless shit whenever The Man tells them to." This sounds a little rehearsed. He holds your gaze, but his face soon softens. "Don't go gettin' all mushy on me, woman."

"How dare you. This cold black heart does not get mushy," you insist. He raises an eyebrow. He knows better. "Unless there are pictures of really cute baby animals," you continue. "But you tell anybody that, and this'll be your last Thanksgiving, Munson." You point a finger at him in warning.

He snorts and looks back to his guitar, starting a new song.

"I was merely doing as my mother instructed," you explain, rolling onto your back and looking up at his ceiling. "Because you're coming to Lazy Thanksgiving, and she wanted to make sure we had plenty of your favorite." You pause, waiting for his curiosity to get the better of him. He stops playing. You've got him.

"…what's Lazy Thanksgiving?"

You smirk. "It's is our first Thanksgiving without all of my annoying-ass relatives, so we're doing it OUR way, all week long. Which means food we actually like, people we actually like, and pajamas all damn day. Just like we've always dreamed of. So pack your best sweats, Munson, 'cause you're staying with us 'til Wayne's off doubles."

You glance over to check for a response.

"Is that an invitation or an order?" He's fighting a smile. He's coming.

"That's up to you, babe." You bat your eyelashes at him.

He rolls his eyes, sets his guitar aside, and crosses the room to crawl on top of you. His chin rests in the valley between your breasts, and you reach up to brush his hair out of his face.

"You really want me?"

"Like right now, or over Thanksgiving break?" you tease. Before his lips can even form a pout, you continue, "'Cause the answer to both is a definite yes."

There was only half a day of school on Tuesday, but it felt like longer than usual. You wanted to be OUT of there.

The groceries were bought, the turkey was thawing, your family was hours away, and Eddie was coming to stay for several days. It really was the Thanksgiving you'd always dreamed of. There would be no awkward catch-ups, no uncomfortable clothes, no arguments or hostility, and no weird dishes with undesirable or un-pronounceable ingredients. You couldn't wait.

You and Eddie were out of your seats and on the way to your shared locker before the final bell of the day finished ringing. You shoved all the crap you wouldn't need into the metal prison - rescuing Eddie's discarded history notebook with the intention of making him study, which earned you a whine - and slammed the door shut.

He hooked his arm around your neck and marched you through the hall and out the doors, where you took your first breath of free air.

No school for a week. Just what the doctor ordered.

You climbed into the van's passenger seat and waited for the rest of the boys to show up. On today's menu was band practice - in lieu of their usual Hideout gig, which had been called on account of the owner not wanting to scare off the home-for-the-holidays crowd with teenage metal - then breaking for family stuff 'til a special Hellfire session on Saturday. Other than that, everybody was on their own.

The boys chattered about their plans for the week until the van jerked to a stop in your driveway, and everyone piled out and headed into the garage. You went into the kitchen, to see what kind of snacks you could dig out. Nevermind that they'd just eaten lunch half an hour ago; you cannot practice metal without fuel. It's against the law. (According to Gareth, anyway, who would make a terrible lawyer.)

The look on your mother's face stopped you in your tracks.

She was holding the phone in a white-knuckle grip. Eyes narrowed. You could practically see the steam coming out of her ears.

What have you done? You quickly scan a week's worth of Hawkins High shenanigans, but can't think of any mischief that would warrant a call home for you. Your brother, either. What the fuck?

She gestures for you to close the door, and you do… definitely not thinking about stepping on the other side of it before you do so.

"Alright. See you soon," she says through gritted teeth. She stands to hang up the phone on the kitchen wall, then knocks her head against it. You're still frozen to the spot.

Finally, she removes her head from the wall and turns to you. "Get your brother in here."

You reach for the door handle, point to Gareth, and crook your finger in a 'come here' motion. He comes in, stands next to you, and waits.

"Your grandparents have decided to grace us with their presence."

You both groan.

"They'll be here by dinnertime."

"Tonight?!" you both shriek.

"It's only for a day. They want to be back home in time for the real family Thanksgiving."

"So we're upending everything we've planned to accommodate them?" You can feel the rage swirling inside you.

She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. "I've gotta make a new grocery list, if there's even anything left at the store, find the recipe for that stupid pie, make something for dinner tonight, get that turkey thawed a day early, clean, drive my car into the quarry…"

"We can handle dinner and cleaning," you say at the same time Gareth asks, "Why do you need a new grocery list?"

"Can you imagine your grandmother's face if she found out I served her a dinner roll I didn't make from scratch?"

"She'll live." You roll your eyes.

"And she doesn't, that's one less thing we have to wor…" Gareth clears his throat, and you try not to smirk.

"Go practice, it's the last fun you'll have 'til they're gone."

He turns on his heel at her suggestion and disappears into the garage.

"Where do you want me, Coach?"

"Help me with this damn grocery list."

You made a list of all the foods you thought you were leaving behind, flipped through recipe cards until you found the things your grandparents expected, and checked the cabinets to see what you already had. So long, Lazy Thanksgiving. You were a nice thought.

When the page-long list was complete, your mother set off to the grocery store. Again.

You hid all the food your grandparents would disapprove of, then dug through the freezer and found pizza rolls for the boys and a forgotten lasagna for dinner. You popped the pizza rolls in the oven and tidied the kitchen to the sounds of Corroded Coffin. Possibly the last decent music you'd hear for the next 24 hours. Your grandparents would probably call for an exorcist if they saw your tape collection.

Your head was buried in a bottom cabinet when the oven timer dinged, catching you by surprise and making you bump your head. You back out on your hands and knees and grumble, rubbing your sore spot, when you feel a burst of hot air.

"Watch it, hot stuff." Eddie grins, pulling the pan of pizza rolls from the oven with a potholder shaped like a turkey.

You stand and lean against the counter, exhausted already.

"Told the jackals they couldn't eat 'til they cleaned the garage," he grins proudly.

"Thank you." You hadn't even thought about having to clean the garage.

"You want me to stick around, or just get lost 'til the coast is clear?"

"What?" You look up in confusion.

"I mean…" he gestures to his clothes and flips the end of his hair. He's a little sweaty and his hair's a little tangled, but you don't know what he's getting at… oh.

"You think we're uninviting you?"

"I'm not exactly grandparent material." He forces out an awkward chuckle that makes your heart sink. You step forward and wrap your arms around his middle, pulling him close.

"You're not going anywhere unless you take me with you." You nuzzle your face into his chest, and he gives you a squeeze. "And I'm pretty sure I'm not allowed to go anywhere unless I take Mom with me. Wait." You pull back, wide-eyed, and ask, "Can we all just hide out at your place until the old people give up and go away?"

"I wish," your mother grumbles, back from her grocery run. She drops a load of bags on the table, and the boys follow with more.

"Okay," she says, scanning the room. "Kitchen looks good. Garage looks good. Did you find something for dinner?"

"A frozen lasagna from your meal prep era."

"Okay. We have three hours to clean. Then I need you in a dress."

You groan, and Gareth snickers.

"And YOU," she turns to him, "in khakis." That wipes the grin off his face.

"Eddie?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"You are absolutely still invited. But if you want to run and hide, we will not think less of you." He smiles. "Do you own a pair of pants without holes in them?" He nods. "Okay." And then she starts putting groceries away, and that was that.

You catch Eddie's eye, then nod to the pan of now-edible pizza rolls. He picks it up and leads the boys back outside, where they descend on it like locusts, while you tackle the mountain of groceries.

When Eddie returns with the empty pan, he addresses your mother.

"I'm gonna go drop Jeff and Grant off. Are you sure you…" he trails off nervously, hovering near the door.

"Honey." Your mom places her hands on the table, leans forward, and stares into his soul. "I want you here more than I want them here."

He chuckles. " I'll go home and grab some clothes. Do you need me to pick up anything else?"

"Nope, I think we've got everything," she answers. "But I appreciate the offer."

He nods, gives you wink, and leaves to take the nerds home.

Your family whirls through the house like cyclones, dusting and scrubbing and straightening everything in view. Eddie joins in when he returns, which makes things move even faster.

The house is deemed acceptable with an hour to spare. You pop the lasagna into the oven, take rushed showers, and change into clothing acceptable to grandparents.

"Woah," Eddie says when he steps back into your room with dripping hair and a towel around his waist, seeing you in your modest (hideous) dress.

"Shut up."

"You never wear pretty things like that for me," he teases.

"Keep it up, Munson, and you're gonna be feasting on one of these stupid fucking shoulder pads."

He cackles and throws his towel at you. You catch it, and get a delightful idea when he turns around to get dressed.

You wind up the damp towel, and when he bends over to pull his boxers on… SNAP.

He yelps, jumps a foot in the air, and grabs his ass with both hands.

"YOU'RE THE DEVIL!"

You howl with laughter. Was it mean? Yes. Was it funny? Yes. Did he deserve it? Also yes.

"Look what you did to me!" he shrieks, rubbing at a red welt rising on his pale ass.

Your jaw drops.

"Oh fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get you THAT bad." All traces of amusement are gone as you go to him and trace the mark.

"Guess you could always kiss it and make it better," he pouts, sticking his lip out and activating the dreaded Puppy Eyes.

You fall to your knees and plant a trail of light kisses around the raised mark on Eddie Munson's ass. When you look up, he's staring at you with wide eyes, like he hadn't really expected you to do it.

"What? Never had a girl kiss your ass before?"

You both dissolve into a fit of giggles until a knock interrupts.

"Are you decent?"

"Never," you answer together, grinning at each other.

You can hear your mother sigh through the door. You stand, and Eddie hastily continues getting dressed.

"Eddie, I need you to sleep in Gareth's room tonight. He's setting up his sleeping bag for you."

"Okay," he agrees.

"Best behavior."

"Yes, ma'am," Eddie says.

"I wasn't talking to you."

Eddie snorts.

"Yes, Mother," you call, giving him a shove. He loses his balance and falls onto your bed with a grin.

"Alright." She raps her knuckles against the door once more and walks away.

Eddie's lying back on your bed, feet on the floor and hands laced behind his head. He's in a plain white t-shirt and dark, unbuttoned jeans that reveal his plaid boxers… and just a liiittle bit of his happy trail. He smirks when he sees you looking.

"Quit dripping on my bed." You pick up his discarded towel and throw it at him, letting it hit him in the face. He sits up, unbothered, to rub his wet hair with it. At least he didn't shake it out like a dog. (Although you have seen him do that before.)

You give your room a once-over, straightening a few books and smoothing out the blankets on your bed. Eddie stuffs his things into a duffel bag and drops it on the floor of your brother's room, where he'll be sleeping tonight.

The plan had actually been for the three of you to camp out in the living room and watch movies all night, but that would have to wait. Your grandmother would probably pitch a fit about Eddie being allowed to sleep under the same roof as you. You'd love to see her face if she found out you'd slept in the same bed before.

You hear the oven timer ding again; dinner is ready. They'll be here soon. You get up to go set the table, but decide you want just one more minute alone with Eddie before the invasion. You go in for a hug and stand still in the middle of your bedroom, just enjoying the quiet.

"Should I button this?" he mumbles when you pull away, looking down at his flannel shirt and then back at you.

"Up to you. You'll look nice either way."

He bites his lip and pulls his shirt together, fingers fumbling. He gets three buttons done before realizing it's crooked. His face starts to turn red from frustration.

You put your hands on his, then move them to his sides. You calmly unbutton, and then re-button his shirt, straightening out his collar when you finish for good measure.

"Should I tuck it in?"

"Edward." You take his face in your hands. "You look perfect. Stop worrying. It's gonna be fine." You kiss the tip of his nose.

"What if they hate me?" he asks, his big brown eyes boring into your soul.

"Babe…" you begin gently, brushing his hair out of his face. "They will. But that's okay. Because I think they kinda hate me too. Smile, nod, don't mention anything fun or cool, and you'll survive. And next time I get you to myself, I will make this worth your while."

"Really?" he grins.

"Really." You lean in for a kiss… which is interrupted by the sound of a car horn honking twice. You groan. Gareth walks by your door, in his khakis and button-down, and announces: "They're heeere."

You peel yourselves apart. You straighten your stupid dress in the mirror, and Eddie rakes his fingers through his hair.

"Promise you won't stop loving me after you endure this torture?" you ask, reaching for his hand.

"Could it be any worse than the time you made me watch Grease?"

"Are you still pretending you didn't love that movie?"

"I absolutely did not," he lies.

"C'mon, stud, let's get this over with."

The reunion with your grandparents went about as expected. Thankfully, your mother took the brunt of their displeasure.

"Is this a store-bought lasagna?" "No, Mother, I made it from scratch."

"Are you seeing anyone?" "No, Dad." "That's the price of being a working girl, I suppose. Women these days think they can have it all!"

"When's the last time you had this carpet professionally cleaned?" "Last month, Mother."

And then, when your mom was properly worn down, they turned their focus to you.

"What grade are you in now, dear?" "12th." "Oh, you'll graduate this year! Where are you going to college?" "I don't know." "You really should be focusing on that. Can't have any… distractions."

And Gareth.

"I heard you're playing the drums now!" "…yeah." "Are you in a band?" "…yeah." "Well, what kind? Jazz? Symphony?" "…marching?" "That's exciting! And good exercise!"

And Eddie.

"What do your parents do, Edward?" "They're… gone." "What do you mean gone?" "Eddie lives with his uncle," your mother supplied. "He works at the power plant. He's the reason we're not eating in the dark." Your grandmother pursed her lips, but your grandfather nodded his head in approval.

Finally, after the longest dinner in the history of the world, your grandparents decided to turn in.

They retreated to the basement, where the pull-out couch had been made for them - and was probably re-made before they got into it - and you had the upstairs to yourselves again.

Which is when the real work began for everyone else.

Leftovers were put away, dishes were washed, potatoes and carrots were peeled, ingredients were measured, and everything that could be prepped for Wednesday's pre-Thanksgiving meal was prepped. You finished around midnight. Your mother would get up in a few hours to put the turkey in the oven, but the rest of you were off the hook until breakfast.

You kissed Eddie goodnight and went to bed alone.

At nearly five in the morning, the door creaked open and someone entered your bedroom. You cracked an eye open, hoping it was Eddie coming to crawl under the covers with you and steal a snuggle before everyone else woke up. But it was your grandmother, checking to make sure you were alone in your bed. Bitch.

She crept back out, and you glared at the door for half an hour before finally going back to sleep.

The next time you woke, it was because two bodies dropped on either side of you. You kept your eyes closed.

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty." That one's Eddie.

"Please. Have you ever tried waking her up? She's more like the dragon." Shut up, Gareth.

"Right. Good thing we've got pinned under the covers. She'd probably claw us to shreds."

"Dragon breath is probably the bigger concern right now." You can hear the smirk in Gareth's voice.

"Fuck you both," you grumble. They laugh. "What time is it?"

Eddie looks at his watch. "Almost eight."

"How long you think we can stall before they come get us and drag us into the kitchen for another thrilling conversation over breakfast?"

The three of you sigh, just before your mother peeks her head in.

"Why are you in here? Whatever, I don't care. Get dressed and come eat before she starts in on the 'young people sleeping all day' crap again." She closes the door without waiting for a response.

"Alright, you heard the lady, be gone." You try to stretch, but you don't have much room to move, being pinned beneath your own blankets and all. You lay there, defenseless, until Eddie kisses your cheek and rolls off the bed. Gareth follows.

You grumble your way into another dress you hate, fix your face, and wait in the hallway for them. No way you're going in there alone.

The three of you appear in the kitchen doorway together.

"There they are! I thought they were going to sleep all day!" It's 7:58 on a day when there's no school, you old bat.

"When I was your age, I was awake at 4:30 every morning!" Good for you, gramps.

"Why don't you grab plates and eat in the living room?" Finally, someone speaking sense. Thanks, Mom.

The three of you grab plates and start filling them with sausage, eggs, and silver dollar pancakes.

You look down at the silverware drawer while you retrieve a trio of forks, and when you look up again, your grandmother is staring at you. And then at your plate.

"Remember, dearie: A moment on the lips, forever on the hips!"

Your face flushes. Your blood boils.

"Perhaps you'd like a piece of fruit instead?"

As soon as you're able to move again, you're going to stab her.

"Mother, does this say teaspoon or tablespoon?" your mom asks, holding out a hand-written recipe on an index card. "Go," she mouths when your grandmother turns her attention to the card.

You hurry into the living room and sit on the couch with the boys, staring down at the plate in front of you, still shaking with rage.

Eddie takes the forks and rests his chin on your shoulder. Did he hear it? Oh god, you're going to burst into flames right here.

"Hate to tell you this, but uh…" his voice drops to a whisper. "Your grandma's a real bitch."

You snort. He kisses your cheek and straightens.

"I'll drink to that," Gareth raises his orange juice and takes a swig. He puts his glass down and digs into his breakfast, but you hesitate.

"Stop."

You glance at Eddie. He stabs a piece of his scrambled egg and lifts his fork to your mouth. "You're fucking perfect. And you need fuel to survive today. C'mon. Eat up. Can't have you snapping any little old ladies in half 'cause you're hungry."

You laugh and lean forward to take his offering, then dig into your own plate. Just a few more hours. You can do this.

You let your empty plates sit on the coffee table as you stall, not wanting to go back into the kitchen and remind your grandparents that you're here. You rest your head on Eddie's shoulder, wishing your Lazy Thanksgiving hadn't been derailed.

"What are you just sitting around for when there's work to be done?" Your head snaps up off of Eddie's shoulder when your grandfather enters the room. Busted. The three of you begrudgingly pick up your plates while he settles into an armchair.

"Boys! Tell me about the local team!" he booms.

Oh. Cool. It's just you who needs to be working. You collect the plates without a word and leave the room with mouthed "I'm sorry" to Eddie. He and Gareth look at each other in panic; like they know anything about ANY local team.

"There you are! Did you think this cranberry sauce was going to make itself?"

You think the only person invited to this dinner who actually likes cranberry sauce bought a can of it that's been pushed to the back of the cabinet, but you don't say a word as you drop your breakfast dishes in the sink and fetch the bag of cranberries.

"How long have you been seeing that boy?"

The way she says "that boy" makes you bristle.

"It was a year in September."

"Oh, he didn't waste any time, did he?" You rip open the bag with a little more force than necessary, sending a few berries flying. She tuts from her place at the table, mixing something you wouldn't be eating, as you pick them up.

You take the bag of cranberries to the sink and dump them into a bowl.

"You should be using a strainer for that," she says, after you've already stuck the bowl beneath the faucet. You clench your jaw and start digging for the fucking strainer.

"Do you really think he's the kind of boy you want to be spending so much time with? I'd be ashamed to be seen with him in public. You know, dear," she turns her attention to your mother. "Gareth's getting a little shaggy too. Aren't there any barbers in town?"

This is it. Your last Thanksgiving. You're going to spend the next one in jail. You turn slowly, but before you can face her…

"Don't you have to be at church soon?" You whip your head toward your mother in confusion. Church? You? Has her own mother officially driven her insane?

Her eyes widen and say "get with the program, dummy."

"Oh! Right!" You say cluelessly.

"The kids volunteered to help with the church's Thanksgiving dinner for the homeless," your mother explains to both your grandmother and you. "The youth group is supposed to be at church in a little bit to start cleaning and setting up tables for tomorrow."

"I can't believe I almost forgot," you say, putting the cranberries aside and drying your hands on a towel. "I better go get the boys."

"Yes, you better," your mother nods knowingly. Whatever you were planning to get her for Christmas is no longer enough.

You dart past your grandmother's narrowed eyes and enter the living room. Your grandfather is droning on about defense, and the boys' eyes have glazed over.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt," no you're not, "but we better get going soon, if we're going to get to church on time."

Both boys raise an eyebrow, and you mimic your mother's "get with the program" look.

"Church? Today? While your grandparents are in town?"

He doesn't bother to turn, so you're able to smirk at the back of his head as you remind him, "Well, Grandpa, we didn't know you were coming until the last minute, or else we would've made time for you."

He grunts, not daring to argue further about commitments to a church, and you all disappear to "get ready." AKA reconvene in your bedroom to explain how your heroic mother is allowing you to escape, grab your jackets, and flee.

Two minutes later, Eddie's van leaves your driveway, and you all heave a sigh of relief.

"Where to?" Eddie asks.

"Literally anywhere but here," you answer.

"Think anything's open?"

You run through a list of options in your head before your brother chimes in, "I'm not going out in public dressed like this."

Right. Grandparent Clothes.

"My place?"

Eddie's place.

It's chilly when you walk in. "Sorry," Eddie mumbles, turning the heat on. "Set the heat back before I left."

"It's fine," you smile, pulling him close. "Body heat is better anyway."

"Why's it so cold if I'm in Hell?" Gareth grumbles.

"Would you like to go back home and talk sports with gramps?" Silence. "That's what I thought."

Eddie grabs a stack of blankets, and you all pile onto the couch and cover up. The next several hours are spent watching re-runs of game shows and shouting at contestants on the tiny TV.

This is the kind of Thanksgiving break you'd planned on.

When it begins to approach the two o'clock dinner-time your mom had shouted at your backs as you fled, you turn off the TV and fold the blankets and Eddie turns the heat back down.

Your spirits begin to dampen again as you pull back into your driveway.

"Two hours, tops," you remind them. "They'll be outta here before we know it. Then we can get back to Lazy Thanksgiving."

"Just like the pilgrims intended," Eddie jokes. You grin.

You drag yourselves back into the house. Your grandfather looks like he's spent most of the morning napping, your grandmother looks smug, and your mother looks like she's about to snap.

Your very early Thanksgiving dinner went by without major incident. Forced conversation, food you didn't really like, and your grandma complaining that she could've made it better. Things to be expected.

The food was the same kind of food you'd always had on Thanksgiving, and exactly what you were hoping to avoid this year. The dressing with mysterious chunks in it. Greasy gravy. The controversial casserole that once caused a screaming match between your parents. The pie that two competing aunts once brought on the same year, which made them stop speaking to each other until Easter. The made-from-scratch rolls that your cousins used to mash into little balls and throw at you when the grown-ups weren't looking. The fancy dishes that only came out on special occasions; God help the fool who scraped a metal utensil across it. Police interrogations were less brutal than the year your aunt noticed a crack in her best gravy boat.

And then, the happiest part of the day: their departure. You gave them awkward hugs, wished them a safe trip, and watched them pull out of the driveway. All four people standing in the garage held their breaths until the car was out of sight, and let out a collective sigh of relief.

"Thank GOD!" your mother exclaims. You and Gareth scrub the greasy lipstick marks off your cheeks. Eddie reaches into his pocket and pulls out his pack of cigarettes.

"Gimme one," your mom insists. You haven't seen her smoke since the divorce. But seconds later, she's blowing a puff of smoke and looking more relaxed than she has in the last 24 hours.

You stand in the garage in silence, enjoying being back to a foursome, and thinking about all the leftovers you didn't want.

"Eddie?" your mother asks, slowly blowing out her smoke and gazing into the distance.

"Yeah?" he answers, stubbing out the cigarette he'd burned through at twice her speed.

"If I were to leave a crisp $20 bill on the kitchen table and go take a nap, is there any chance it could turn into something greener by the time I wake up?"

He looks at you. You look at him. All of your eyes eventually land on her.

She glances toward you and scoffs. "Children, please. I went to college in the '60s. Can you make it happen or not?"

"Uh…" he chuckles awkwardly, "Yeah?"

"Good."

"You uh… you want anything specific?"

"I would like to be calm and happy for the rest of the week."

"Okay."

Your eyes dart between them during the strangest conversation you've ever witnessed.

"Okay," she repeats, flicking her cigarette like an expert and walking into the house.

After a moment of silence, you have to ask: "What the fuck just happened?"

"Our mother just bought weed from your boyfriend."

The three of you laugh in disbelief. This is officially the weirdest Thanksgiving ever.

"I gotta cruise by Rick's real quick, wanna ride?"

"Sure… you think he'd want a plate?"

Eddie gives you a strange look.

"We've got plenty of leftovers. And we're making the good shit tomorrow, so there'll be even more. Wayne's getting a heap too."

"Kay."

You're piling food onto a styrofoam plate - well, two, for reinforcement - when the phone rings. Gareth answers, rolls his eyes, and mouths "Dad."

You cover Rick's plate with aluminum foil and hand it to Eddie. "Go on, tell Rick I said hi and Happy Thanksgiving. When you get back, all of the annoying relative shit should be over."

You send him away with a peck and pick up the phone in the hallway to join the conversation with yet another relative you didn't want to talk to. How thoughtful of him, to call the day before Thanksgiving so he could spend the real holiday with his new family.

You were sitting at the kitchen table, looking through Black Friday ads from the newspaper when Eddie returned. He quietly closes the door and plops into the seat across from you.

"Rick's in love with you now."

"Oh yeah?" you grin.

In a pretty decent imitation of his reefer-loving friend, Eddie drawls, "Thanksgiving food on a Wednesday? It's like Christmas came early, man… except it's Thanksgiving. Are those real mashed potatoes? And pie too?! You tell your girl and her mama that I really appreciate this."

You try to muffle your laughter as he plops the requested bag of green on the table, exactly where the $20 had been an hour before.

"Think I should roll those for her?"

You shrug. "I just found out she smokes like an hour ago, don't ask me about her drug preferences."

He contemplates for a second, then pulls the bag toward him and reaches into his pocket for rolling papers.

"You wanna hit the mall Friday morning?" you ask, flipping the brightly colored pages. "Ought to be some decent sales."

"Mhm," he hums, tongue poking out of his mouth, trying not to break his concentration.

"Are you trying to impress my mother with your joint-rolling abilities?"

"Maybe," he grins, finishing another.

Gareth wanders in the kitchen and sits at the table hesitantly, watching Eddie work. He's smoked with you a few times - better to keep an eye on him that let him go off with people you don't trust, you figure - but he's never rolled on his own before.

"You wanna try one?" Eddie asks. Gareth looks to you nervously. He's still not entirely convinced the DEA isn't going to bust down the door every time he touches the stuff. You crook half a smile, and he gets up to sit next to Eddie.

He's more patient here than he is at school. No jocks to unsettle. No reputation to maintain. No need to rule with an iron fist. He wasn't Eddie the Freak or Eddie the DM or Eddie the third-time senior here. His guard was down, and he was just Eddie. You love all the Eddies, but this one's your favorite.

You watch him teach proper rolling techniques out of the corner of your eye while you pretend to browse ads. They'd finished almost half the bag when you hear your mother coming. Eddie slides the rolled joints into the bag and puts it back where he was supposed to.

Gareth grabs the ad on top of the stack of papers and opens it to a random page, blushing crimson when he's greeted by Sears lingerie models. Flip, flip, flip. He becomes very interested in power tools, and you and Eddie try not to make eye contact, because you know you'll laugh.

Your mother enters the kitchen with a yawn and a stretch and spots her loot.

"Well, what do you know, looks like the Cannabis Fairy paid me a visit."

You snort. Eddie tries to hide a smile.

She looks down at the bag, and then at him.

"What, you think an old lady can't roll her own joints?"

"Just trying to save you some time." He smiles and bats his eyelashes. Moron.

"Riiiight," she says, pulling on her coat and picking up the bag. She steps into the garage… and leaves the door open. You look from it to Eddie, until she pokes her head back in. "Are you coming, or are you still pretending to be good kids?"

The three of you exchange glances, rooted in place until finally you shrug and get up. The boys follow. You grab jackets and step down into the garage.

She's sitting in a lawn chair, arms crossed like she's waiting to bust you for breaking curfew… with a lit joint in her hand.

"Et tu, Gareth?" she sighs when he steps down and closes the door.

"Uh… peer pressure?"

Everyone laughs.

You and Eddie drag the battered loveseat that the previous owners abandoned closer, and drop into it. Gareth unfolds another lawn chair and sits uneasily.

And that was how you found yourself passing around illegal substances in your garage, on the eve of Thanksgiving, with your boyfriend, little brother… and your mother.

You melt into Eddie once you begin to feel the effects. You lean your head on his shoulder and wish you'd thought to bring blankets out. His hand rests on your leg, radiating warmth into your skin, and you wish you were small enough so that you could fit your whole body in his hand. He could just carry you around and keep you in his pocket and let you attack people who irritated him. They'd never know what bit them. (You. You'd be what bit them.)

"Alright, what'd we miss?" Gareth asks.

"Let's see…" your mother ponders. "I'm a terrible mother who's raising disrespectful delinquents. My marriage failed because I emasculated my perfect bread-winning husband by insisting on working outside the home. He is blameless. The new church I selected must not be much of a church, to let in such shaggy youths. My son will become a devil-worshipping drug addict. My daughter will become impregnated before she graduates because I let that boy sleep in my house. Good news though: If you get knocked up, they probably won't come down for graduation, because they'll die of shame. Oh, and my turkey was dry."

You take a moment to process all this. Where do you even start?

"Dude…" Gareth begins. "Grandma's a cunt."

After a moment of stunned silence, your mother starts to laugh. And then you all join in. Minutes later, tears are streaming down your face, and you still can't stop laughing. You're clinging to Eddie, shaking together, finally feeling warm and happy and comfortable after a day of hell.

"Oh, man," your mom finally gets out, wiping the tears from her eyes. "What do you say we go finish up their leftovers so we can start over tomorrow?"

"That is the best idea in the history of Earth," Gareth says with genuine awe. Which sets you and Eddie off again. Your mom and Gareth go inside, and you and Eddie eventually pull yourselves together and off the loveseat.

Your mom has decided not to bother with individual plates; she's thrown all the grandparent-specific leftovers onto a glass pan and stuck it in the oven to reheat. You gather around the table and wait. When it comes out, you each grab a fork and go to town.

That's one way to get rid of leftovers you don't want.

"I'm going to bed," your mother finally says, getting up with a stretch. "I cooked all day today. Tomorrow's your problem. Wake me up when dinner's ready."

"Kay," you mumble through the last mouthful of the casserole you weren't generally fond of, but tonight found pretty good.

You left the dish in the sink and retreated to the living room to finish off the night with a movie.

"Ugh," Eddie groans, leaning back into the couch and sticking out his belly. "Why did you make me eat so much?"

"Yeah, that was definitely my doing," you laugh, pulling a blanket across your lap. Gareth puts in a tape and settles into his favorite spot on the floor, wrapped up in a blanket cocoon.

"I can't even breathe," Eddie whines.

You roll your eyes, reach over, and pop the button on his jeans. He falls silent as the previews begin, but you can feel him staring at you.

"What?" you finally ask, turning your head when you can't stand it anymore.

"Will you marry me?"

"What?"

"That was like the hottest thing anyone's ever done to me."

A laugh escapes you. "You are such a dweeb."

"But you love me," he grins.

"…yeah, I guess," you sigh, pretending to be defeated.

His jaw drops in mock offense.

"You two are gonna make me puke up all that old person food if you keep on," Gareth chimes in from across the room.

You laugh and snuggle into Eddie's side, pulling the blanket over both of you.

"Love you," you whisper.

"Lots?"

"Lots and lots," you confirm, nuzzling your cheek into his shoulder.

You woke when the screen turned to static, shook the boys awake, and dragged your corpses to bed.

"Best Thanksgiving ever," Eddie mumbled when you crawled under the covers beside him.

"Babe?"

"Hm?"

"That was Grandparent Thanksgiving. Tomorrow is Lazy Thanksgiving. It ain't over 'til the last piece of turkey's gone."

He chuckles. "So what exactly are we doing tomorrow?"

"We'll make the food, since Mom did everything yesterday. Turkey's done, so we just need sides. It'll be easy, pretty much everything has instructions on the box. There's rolls and a pie hiding in a cooler in the garage. So we'll make food, eat food, lay in front of the TV and watch old Thanksgiving specials I recorded and whine about how much food we ate… until it's time to eat more food."

"I think Thanksgiving might be my favorite holiday."

"Mine too, now." You smile a sleepy smile, not wanting to say goodnight and go to sleep just yet. "Still wanna hit Starcourt Friday morning? Lots of stuff on sale. If we strike out, we can always go back to your place… if you don't mind being alone with me for a little while… I'm sure we could find something to do…"

"You know, Black Friday's sounding pretty good too."

You chuckle and lean in for a kiss.

"I'm so happy you're here with me," you breathe.

"I'm happy you wanted me here," he says, giving you another kiss.

"Sorry about the grandparents," you wince.

"It's alright… we'll have it at our place next year." Your heart soars at the thought of getting to be like this with him every night. "And we won't tell them where we live."

You laugh and snuggle closer. "Sounds good to me, Eds."

He sighs happily and kisses your forehead, and you both drift to sleep in a comfortable silence.

You woke up so warm and comfortable, you almost didn't want to get out of bed, even though it's nearly eleven.

But today is Lazy Thanksgiving. The Thanksgiving you've always dreamed of. No unwanted guests. No hard labor. No stuffy clothes. You turn over to look at the clock, and Eddie pounces.

"Where you think you're goin'?" he mumbles into the back of your neck, holding you in place with an arm around your waist.

"Food," you yawn.

"This is all I wanna eat." He nibbles at the back of your neck, and you shrink away from him with a laugh.

"Not on the menu today, I'm afraid."

"Hmph." He lets you go and flops onto his back. You turn to look at him. Arms crossed. Pouty. Hair a mess. Perfect.

You slide closer and sling a leg over his. You put your arm across his middle and rest your head in the crook of his neck. He doesn't budge.

"Tomorrow, however…" you whisper with a soft kiss to his neck. He finally uncrosses his arms to run a hand up your thigh.

"Tell me more."

"Hmmm…" you hum, nuzzling into him. You can feel him melt. "Nope." You nip at his neck and haul yourself out of bed. He growls, but you're already out of the room before he makes a move.

Your mom is drinking coffee and watching the parade in the living room. "You sure you've got this?" she asks.

"We got this," you confirm. "We'll wake you up when it's ready."

"Like anyone could sleep through this thrilling display!" she says with mock-offense, gesturing to a high school marching band. You smile and return to the kitchen, hoping she enjoys her first uninterrupted parade in years.

Both boys wander into the kitchen a few minutes later, while you're pulling things from the cabinets and moving them to the table.

"Eddie, you're on stuffing. Gareth, you've got mashed potatoes."

"And what about you, Your Highness?" Gareth grumbles.

"Everything else, Prince Ass."

Eddie snorts and picks up one of the four boxes of Stove Top to read the instructions. He looks at you apprehensively.

"I have faith in you." He smirks and reads the box again.

"How many potatoes?" Gareth asks, skimming the instructions. Potato flakes from a flimsy cardboard box. If that didn't finish your grandmother off, the packets of gravy mix would.

"A buttload."

"That's not on the box."

"Then whatever the biggest batch is."

"Kay," he shrugs, reaching for the measuring cup you've left in the middle of the table.

The three of you work together in a shockingly harmonious manner. Pots on the stove, dishes in the oven, bowls in and out of the microwave, and nearly an hour later, the table is as set as it's gonna be. No serving dishes saved for special occasions; everything remains on the stove and counter, in whatever vessel it was cooked in. You were all fully capable of getting up and fixing your own plates.

And that's exactly what you did.

"Are we gonna hold hands and say what we're thankful for?" your mom teases.

"I'm thankful that Grandma and Grandpa are gone," Gareth says quickly, causing a laugh to spread around the table.

Screw it. "I'm thankful that all my favorite people are here."

"Awww," Gareth mocks, causing you and Eddie to both kick him under the table. You smirk at each other when he hisses.

"I'm thankful for the invite," Eddie smiles, making your heart soften.

"And I'm thankful for brown-and-serve rolls," your mom says, ripping hers open and slathering it with butter. "Okay, you little dorks, raise a roll."

You each pick up your roll and raise it, as instructed.

"To Lazy Thanksgiving!"

"To Lazy Thanksgiving!" you all echo, then take a bite out of your perfectly adequate rolls that took 8 minutes to prepare. (A great improvement from the traditional 4-hour ordeal.)

Lazy Thanksgiving really was the holiday you'd always dreamed of.

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x evil woman #thanksgiving fic

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sassygwaine · 2 years

Text

here it is! the soundtrack to a love that won't sit still, the rather sprawling modern au series that i've been pouring my heart into these past couple months

best listened to in playlist order, track list below the cut

stray italian greyhound – vienna teng

this feeling calls for everything that I am not / I’m not that kind / I’m so good at shooting down any notion / this tired world could change

benjamin alphabet – super whatevr

if we weren’t so alike, maybe we’d work it out / but we’re stuck in this rut and my mind’s headed south

doa – olen

you hurt me bad just for fun / someday, some way / someone’s gonna love me

pressed 2 death – illuminati hotties

you only like me when I’m sad / you only want me when I’m feeling bad

bambi – hippo campus

I swear to god I wasn’t born to fight / maybe just a little bit, enough to make me sick of it / but I can read between the lines / I want to run from everything / but my legs won’t work it’s clear to me

sleep with a baseball bat – cosmic johnny

hey, space cadet / are you still floating around the rock / that you spent so much of your life trying to get away from / and does it at least look different up there?

settling – ripe

every time that you behave / every time you play it safe / you can feel it getting harder / still you’re waiting for things to get better / but you’re not sure if it’s now or never

bummer days – liza anne

I don’t know what I want, but I know that I feel bad / and then when I feel good, I think I make myself sad

heaven – los lonely boys

save me from this prison / lord help me get away / ‘cause only you can save me now / from this misery / I’ve been lost in my own place / and I’m getting weary

change – the catching

it’s time for a change / get out of your brain / it’s time that you’re wasting / you feel pretty vacant / it’s different than it was before

baby blue shades – bad suns

oh, I can see the moon from my kitchen / but I cannot see through this decision / I close my eyes and cross a line

everybody breaks – ivan & alyosha

who’s gonna bend now? / who’s gonna break? / who’s got the map to tell me what’s at stake?

heaven – bayside

but I’m getting old, it’s so contagious / if life’s a ride, then I don’t know the way / and I am a loner / and I am a fraud / and I am in hell / right where I belong / I am a sinner / but aren’t we all?

talk it up – sammy rae & the friends

smoky walls, dusty halls / no one calls / and all the window plants are dying / she talk it up / half empty cup / half-hearted love / half of the time halfway through crying

good riddance – green day

another turning point, a fork stuck in the road / time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go / so make the best of this test and don’t ask why

roots – grumpster

any time I think I feel at home again, I hit the ground running ‘til I’m gone

dwell on the guilt of saving myself – super whatevr

when everything is good, I feel like I’m somebody else / the sick loves the sick, but I’m sick of the dying. where’s the shame in wanting to grow old?

lady d’arbanville – yusuf / cat stevens

I’ll wake you tomorrow

life was easier when I only cared about me – bad suns

I had no reason to breathe / until you knocked the wind out of me / I had no light I could see / until your radiance blinded me / I was spinning around and around in an ocean of grief / your ladder came down to the sea

go your own way – fleetwood mac

open up, everything’s waiting for you

real contender – the dip

changin’ of the seasons / time is always creepin’ along / I wanna be a real contender / whether you see it or not / I know it’s in there, somewhere / this thing that we got / for once in my life I am sure of something

south – hippo campus

you broke down and left me with a / chest hum, black gun, and forty dollars / three weeks down, I drowned myself in whiskey

sabotage – beastie boys

I can’t stand rocking when I’m in here / ‘cause your crystal ball ain’t so crystal clear / so while you sit back and wonder why / I got this fucking thorn in my side

psycho – maisie peters

I feel like you feel nothing, that’s fine / please leave this behind / you’re losing your mind / calling me a hundred times / time you drew a line / and stopped wasting mine

well, fuck – mal blum

or did you lose like every other time you lost? / you have a god, you have a boss, no matter what you call / it’s all the same / fuck you, but I’ll do the things you want me to

gone insane – lucius

my heart’s so heavy I’m gonna need your help / losing my grip while holding everything else / my fists are clenched and I’m so angry with myself / the time we share is in the suffering / we’re all alone in this togetherness / go on and call me the one who’s gone insane / oh I will be the one who’s gone insane

slip the noose – the maine

I was on the verge of breaking down/ then you came around/ and not a second too late

trying to kill the moon – motherfolk

I never wanted it all / ‘til I found you / teach me as I fall / to fall towards you

crystal – stevie nicks

I turned around / and the water was closing all around / like a glove / like the love that had finally, finally found me

didya think – arlie

didya think it’d be easy? / I’ll tell you if it was easy / then everybody’d do it too

little words – the happy fits

darling, darling, darling, let me shelter you / lay you into all the homes that fear has made of me / how the shingles fall like dust beside your company

hide – rainbow kitten surprise

and he’s a better kisser than you’d think, mom / he’s a better listener than most / we took pretty pictures by the sea, mom / fell in love and sailed off

I’m okay – honest men

I’m in a good position to lose it again / the cards are dealt and my hand is in / the push and pull of my own chagrin / I’m alright

flipside – ripe

it’s alright to dive / with survival on your mind / you can take it step by step / ‘til you find solid ground

conversation – mom rock

you feel the pain and blame it on yourself / you feel the pain and hurt someone else

better in the morning – birdtalker

behind my eyes a familiar child / I take his hand and he finally smiles / be gentle with yourself as you uncover / your best kept secrets yet to be discovered

the reckoning – dom fera

change ain’t so sudden / it just hides as it’s coming / is this change or fruition / of some hope and ambition? / is this all repercussions?

bloodlust – left at London

what is hell to the god that you pray to? / either way, tell the devil “just trust us” / don’t expect anybody would’ve saved you / bloodlust tastes a little like justice

divine violence – itoldyouiwouldeatyou

and I know your father was an asshole but you ought to learn / how to keep yourself alive / because I shoot on sight now

work out – rainbow kitten surprise

well, the first cut was the deepest / but it healed up whole / and the last one was a clean hit / but I bled out below

shimmer – fuel

she says that love / is for fools that fall behind / and I’m somewhere between / I never really know a killer from a savior / ‘til I break at the bend

strangest faces – bayside

I have seen the strangest faces / yellow teeth and scary eyes / it turns out they’ve been there all my life / it’s hard to find a friendly face / when you’ve got nothing left to sell

lord is it mine – supertramp

when everything’s dark / and nothing seems right / there’s nothing to win / and there’s no need to fight / I never cease to wonder at the cruelty of this land / but it seems a time of sadness is a time to understand

the garden – the happy fits

so if I lay down / and let roots grow ‘round / would it make me whole again? / and if barren wood / could touch this ground, oh / flower it would

superbloom – misterwives

wallflower in the spring / they can’t contain you / through the cracks, you break through

saw it coming – sammy rae & the friends

you’re gonna get the good that’s coming to you / you deserve it / even if you do not feel like you do

ghost stories – the narcissist cookbook

there is no ‘why’ about it / there is a ‘how’, I suppose, don’t really understand it though / maybe if I dug around a bit in the soil / I’d find out where all this love comes from and what it’s for / but then the question would be answered

two – sleeping at last

like a force to be reckoned with / a mighty ocean or a gentle kiss / I will love you without any strings attached / and what a privilege it is to love / a great honor to hold you up

nobody – hozier

we could have less to worry about / honey, I won’t lie to you / but everything I do / I’ve had no love like your love

you are the best thing – ray lamontagne

and baby / the way you move me, it’s crazy / it’s like you see right through me / and make it easier

easy silence – the chicks

and I’ve got all the world to lose / but I just want to hold on to / the easy silence that you make for me

living my best life – ben rector

I wake up with the sunrise / it does not look a thing like I thought that I would / but I’ve been getting my steps in / and I sleep with my best friend / it’s the best that it has been in a long time

know that I know – lake street dive

yeah, we’re like sneakers and gym socks / you’re happy hour and I am five o’clock / you’re captain kirk to my spock / you know I’m dee dee ramone and you’re punk rock

good old-fashioned lover boy – queen

I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things / we can do the tango just for two / I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings

sweetheart – kerry courtney

with everything you’ve been through dear / you’re stronger than you think / you’re kinda fucked up / and I love you for it / you’ve got a sweetheart / don’t you dare forget it

kick it to me – sammy rae & the friends

nowadays we’re working at the same pace / I’m still here still bright when the night comes / still burning, still bright when the night comes

#a love that won't sit still #our flag means death fic #our flag means death fanfic #i fucking love talking about music

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