#wish i could send my dad that song

[mazzystarjpg]

- on fathers

ocean vuong/ kyoto-phoebe bridgers/ seventeen going under- sam fender/ kyoto- phoebe bridgers/ seven-taylor swift/ father- the front bottoms/ kyoto- phoebe bridgers/ franz wright/ kyoto- phoebe bridgers/ father- the front bottoms

[faggotswag]

did i tell u guys my dad is a daughter of cain.

[moongreenlight]

“Realistic Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley headcanons” and then it’s just the fun police.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

- It makes me want to scoop my fucking brain out with a spoon when people say that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is some shy, anxious soft boy. I really do not believe he’d need to be coddled after a nightmare or babied when he’s feeling angsty. He is fine, y’all. Please don’t call paw patrol.

He is a soldier. He’s a war criminal. He is traumatized to the point of numbness. He is fucked up and weird and insane and honestly I think that we should all let everybody have their thing.

I cannot fix him. I do not want to fix him. I can only make him worse.

- Sorry but I just cannot write him having any kind of romantic feelings toward Soap. I like writing their dynamic more brotherly.

Furthest they’ve gone is ‘locker room gay.’

Like Johnny sends him dick pics on occasion because he thinks it’s funny and it pisses Ghost off.

That being said, I do read the occasional Ghoap fic. I’m not a perfect person. Sometimes it’s just yummy delicious.

- Feel like he’s the kind of freak to intentionally go to the gym without headphones. Something about discipline. Opting to just stare at the wall in front of him while he’s doing cardio or counting repetitions of exercises.

But on the rare occasion that he does indulge himself, he has a playlist of like 5-6 songs he likes and when it ends he just goes back to silence. Divorced dad rock. Chorded headphones only.

- Doesn’t have the debilitating commitment issues as people paint him out to have. Just commitment-phobic. Obviously stems from his past. He’s got that sexy deep rooted fear of abandonment or something horrible happening to people he actually lets close to him. But he’s not completely turned off by the idea of romantic attachments or close friends, just a little hesitant to open himself up to that kind of opportunity.

Probably very cagey about romantic partners. Doesn’t want the guys to know about you. Doesn’t keep pictures of you around his bunk or anything like that. He’s worried it’ll somehow compromise your safety. Worried about you getting swept up in his work.

- Women’s rights? Or Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley? I really do think he’d love to have a partner who lets him provide *everything* for them. He just wants to serve and protect. Wants his bird to be in a gilded cage all nice and safe and reliant on him for survival.

Doesn’t even really like the idea of you going to the grocery store by yourself. Would prefer if you just stayed put and tended his home and cooked him meals and let him dote on you and provide everything you could ever need.

- Has a really strange understanding of technology. He’s fine with the newer military stuff. That’s his element. He can do electrical wiring, set up a TV, install security cameras. That’s all whatever. But a cell phone? He doesn’t give a shit enough to keep up with the new updates and all the new things you have to learn when you get a smartphone. Wishes he would have kept a flip phone.

Texts like this: [OK. See youtonight.]

MAYBE has a private Facebook with no profile picture where the only things on his wall are Price wishing him a happy birthday every year.

His camera roll is like; 97 accidental screenshots of his Lock Screen, a few pictures of him and the task force boys, the inside of his pocket (another accident), a sunrise, a few cool things he found on missions, 34 pictures of Soap and Gaz when they took his phone.

- Insufferable in the early stages of trying to date him. Little to no communication other than basically demanding you meet him somewhere. Texting or talking on the phone? Like pulling fucking teeth. You think he’d rather be dead.

It was a headache getting him to go out in the first place. Maybe you worked at a bar where the guys would come to have a drink after a long day. He’s a little stand-offish but he’s handsome and he knows how to banter well enough for you to be persuaded by a coworker to slip him your number after you complained one too many times about a shit hookup or yet another terrible first date. It takes him nearly two weeks to phone you.

“Didn’t think you’d call.”

“Didn’t think I would either.”

He takes you out once, you think he seems sort-of interested, then he doesn’t phone or text you back for three days. You get over it. A few more dates in. You can tell he’s a bit more relaxed. A bit more open. You’re less worried that you’re a terrible conversationalist. Then he goes on a month long deployment without saying anything in advance. Radio fucking silent yet again. You want to tear your hair out. When he finally gets back, he’ll text you something like [Atthat pub you like. Drinks ?] completely out of the blue. You think you may actually go insane.

- Once he’s gotten used to you, it’s like the sole purpose of his life is to be your protector even if you’ve only recently convinced yourself he may want something casual. You’re small and grab-able. He knows how nasty people can be and what think when they see you. He needs to know that you’re taken care of, kept safe from such a scary world.

So he’ll just linger around you. All the time. Standing behind you when you’re at the till at the store, staring down the cashier who was only trying to be friendly when they asked if you had any fun plans for the rest of the day. Big arms folded over his chest. Looming so largely he threatens to eclipse you without taking a single step forward. Eyes burning a hole into the poor person who hastily finishes the transaction without another word.

Walking silently next to you in the evenings after you’re both off work; close enough to brush shoulders, but that’s about it. Listening to you chirp on about your day. Occasionally offering a small grunt of acknowledgement or a few words of interjection. Always walks on the side of the path that he thinks could pose you the most immediate danger. Shielding you from what may lurk in a darkened alley or a hedge or a small thicket of trees.

Scary dog privilege, but like… for when you go to fill your car up with gas in broad daylight in a good part of town and he insists on standing out there with you. ‘Just in case’ If he even lets you out of the car in the first place.

- AND OFF THAT POINT. I think once he’s decided that he’s actually fond of you, it goes from zero to a hundred so fast it makes your head spin.

Like the last time you spoke, it was still unclear on if you were keeping things casual or not and now you’re at dinner and the waiter just asked him if the two of you wanted dessert and Simon just grunts “dunno. Ask the missus.” ??? He sucks so bad I NEED him.

- As much as I love an overly possessive and jealous Simon, I saw this tweet that said “My girlfriend can wear what she wants because she’s a hoe and I knew that before we started dating” and it changed my life.

He’s secure enough not to need to cause a scene if someone makes a pass on you in public. He understands that you’re attractive and that other people are bound to find you attractive too. (Not that he doesn’t still want to pull their fingernails out one by one, threatening them and everything they love for daring to exist near you. He’s just got better control over himself than that. King.)

He knows he’s better than any of your other options. Nobody else could keep you as safe as he could. They don’t know the world like he does. They don’t know how breakable you are. How sweet and naive you can be.

Not to say he isn’t overly jealous and possessive, he just won’t pitch a fit in public.

LIKE dragging him to the bar with your friends and he sits at the table with all of your drinks. Him watching you dancing out of the corner of his eye, seeing some prat come up and grab your ass in passing. Or a group of guys dancing with your friends getting a little *too* close to you for his liking. He doesn’t do anything while the two of you are out- not wanting to ruin your fun. But that night after you’ve gotten back to his flat (He insisted. Closer to the bar. Uber was cheaper.) and he’s tearing your miniskirt off like it’s personally offended him. He’ll be a little rougher. A little more liberal with the marks his mouth leaves on your collarbones and inner thighs. His strong hands will grab at the fat of your hips a little harder than he should- leaving bruises where his fingers dug in. He’ll lean over you while you’re split open with his length, snarling down at you. “Had everyone’s attention tonight, didn’t you, pet?“ “You like havin’ eyes on you?” “Greedy fuckin’ slag.” “Can’t appreciate what you have.” “Need a reminder of who you’ve got to impress.” Maybe he’ll take you in front of a mirror, massive hand fixed on your jaw. Jerking your face up so you have to look at yourself being ruined by him. How pretty and slutty you look when your makeup is ruined by the tears he’s fucking out of you.

- He calls you ‘bird’ or ‘pet’ more often than anything else. A little on the nose for how he treats you. Like you’re some small, frail thing that can’t go a day without him. Stripped of your natural survival instincts and instead leaning on him for support and comfort and food and shelter. Just how he likes it.

GOD he’s a fucking freak. Gross and mean and fucked in the head. Makes my stomach hurt. I hate him. I wish I was schizophrenic so I could vividly hallucinate him.

[leclercsainzz]

i was listening to “all to well” by taylor swift and the part where she sings “i still remember the first fall of snow” (pretty much verse 6) came on and i remember i had seen a nico rosberg x lewis hamilton edit to this song a few nights ago and i was wondering if you could do one where reader is nico’s sister and she dated lewis but they fell of because of the whole brocedes friendship fall out and the fans associate them with this specific song/verse .. basically brocedes situation but instead it’s reader x lewis (idk if all this makes sense lol)

DO YOU REMEMBER IT ALL TOO WELL?

PAIRINGS: lewis hamilton x rosberg sister!reader

TYPE: social media au

ynrosberg

liked by danielricciardo, nicorosberg and 645,927 others

ynrosberg: weekend photo dump or whatevaaa 🤷🏼‍♀️

tagged: @nicorosberg @danielricciardo

view 6,026 comments

user: omG i stiLL CaNnoT beliEVE MOTHER PULLED UP TO THE HUNGARIAN GRAND PRIX AKAKD!!!!!

↳ user: apparently she only went to support danny bc she promised him that she’d show up to a race if he came back 😭

user: does anyone know if lewis and her interacted??!!?

user: gorgg 😍😍😍

zayn: 😍

↳ user: are they dating??

↳ user: zayn??? 👀 what are you doing here??

user: not nico using memes 💀 LMAOOO

↳ nicorosberg: it was actually a gif 😭

↳ user: pLease, this makes it 10x better

danielricciardo: ❤️❤️

user: still can’t believe mother pulled up and we didn’t get a single interaction with dad 😭😭

user: it’s the waY LEWIS WALKED BY HER WITHOUT SPARING HER A GLANCE 😭😭😭💔

↳ user: i cried when i saw that 😭😭 like why’d they show us?

user: so is everyone gonna ignore the last post?? 444?? 4’s??? who is associated with 4? lewis mf 44 hamilton?? hello?

user: lewis????

user: will forever hold on to the idea that they’ll get back together soon 😌

user: i love how everyone is bringing up lewis as if they didn’t end on bad terms lmao

fernandoalo_official: glad to see my spanish lessons taught you something 👍🏼

aussiegrit: it’s britney bitch

📌 pinned

user: not her pinning webber’s comment 💀

user: thE things i’d do to see a lewis comment or like 😩

user: just thinking about the fact that yn & lewis might’ve seen each other at the race but refused to interact w each other 😭

↳ user: they did:( and they ignored each other

user: can someone please tell me if her and lewis talked?

user: i just know they refused to look in each other’s directions

↳ user: stop 😭😭😭 you’re right, they didn’t 💔💔💔

user: 4?? lewis??

user: missing ynlewis hours 😓

user: ugh, she’s soo pretty 😍😍😍

user: how can one be this beautiful? 😩

ynrosberg

liked by sebastianvettel, kendalljenner and 610,749 others

ynrosberg: photo dump pt 2 🤪

view 5,146 comments

user: all too well 10 min ver. (taylor’s version)??? yes or yes??

↳ ynrosberg: always!!! 💗

user: LEWIS LEWIS LEWIS LEWIS LEWIS LEWIS

user: 😍😍😍😍😍

zayn: thanks for the pic creds

↳ yourusername: yea yea

georgerussell63: i see my name 👀

user: i pray lewis and her will get back together

user: wishing for a ynlewis interaction 😩😩

↳ user: same, sis, same!

user: her smile in the third post 🥰

kendalljenner: 😍😍 beauty

↳ ynrosberg: mwahh 😘

user: when she listens to taylor swift >>

nicorosberg: never got my ice cream 😕

↳ ynrosberg: oops???

user: I REMEMBER IT ALL TOO WELL

user: i literally just saw a ynlewis edit to all too well!!! janskdnd

↳ user: SEND ME THE LINK, NOW

↳ user: ^ me too, please!!!

↳ user: wtF, iM crying 😭😭😭😭

user: i just need to know that her and lewis are on good terms, my mental health depends on this info

↳ user: hate to break it to you …. but ….

↳ user: they literally walked by each other TWICE during the hungarian gp and didn’t acknowledge each other 💔💔💔💔

user: does anyone know if lewis and yn are friends at least?

↳ user: girl??? they don’t even follow each other 🙂

user: she looks happy, he looks happy … they moved on .... maybe it’s time for us all to move on as well? 😔😔😔

↳ user: nO, i cant 😔 i rEfuse!!

user: who’s lewis??? and what does he have to do with yn and nico?? (i don’t mean to offend anyone, i just keep seeing so many comments regarding lewis … is he a driver like nico or??)

↳ user: long story short, lewis hamilton is a formula 1 driver (yes), him and nico used to be teammates .. they were pretty much fighting for the championship and in the process their friendship started to fall apart due to their rivalry and ig yn pushed lewis away after nico won and retired

↳ user: wasn’t it because lewis said he didn’t want distractions and wanted to focus on his career?

↳ user: tbh i’m not sure, they never really confirmed anything

lewishamilton

liked by georgerussell63, neymarjr and 784,837 others

lewishamilton: season so far ✌🏾

tagged: @georgerussell63 @fernandoalo_official

view 7,937 comments

user: ROSCOE!!!!

user: i wonder if roscoe misses mother as much as i do 😭

user: dad, please get back with mom!! 🙏🏼

user: my man everybody 😍😍😍

user: i heard from a friend that george “kidnapped” roscoe and took him to see yn

↳ user: wait wtf, are you being frr??? 😭😭 don’t play with me

↳ user: idk if it’s true

↳ user: i wonder how roscoe reacted when he saw yn, if he did

georgerussell63: roscoe 🥰

↳ lewishamilton: dognapper

↳ georgerussell63: i did it for the greater good:)

↳ user: wAit omgsksn does that mean he actually took roscoe to see yn or???? omg wkakalsk 🥺🥺🥺

user: he’s so fine 😩

fernandoalo_official: 😎

user: WAIT DID GEORGE REALLY TAKE ROSCOE TO GO SEE YN?? BC IF SOOO IMA CRY 😭😭😭😭

user: ya’ll remember when roscoe would pull up with both his parents to the paddock?? 😔 ahh, good old times

user: @sebastianvettel sebs, i need you to work your magic and reunite my parents, please

user: not getting over how they just walked past each other as if they didn’t spend 4 years together 💔

user: the fit 🔥

user: things that keep me up at night: brocedes & ynlewis

↳ user: ^ THIS!!!!

user: ya’ll ever thing about the what-if of ynlewis??

user: goat with a another goat (alonso) 🤩

user: they day yn and lewis reunite will be magical

user: missing the yn comments/likes 🥺🥺🥺

carlossainz55: 🤩🤩🤩

user: 7 years ago, ynlewis broke my heart 😭😭😭

↳ user: don’t forget brocedes 😭😭

↳ user: can’t believe it’s been 7 years, mate

user: i wonder if they privately talk, yk??

↳ user: never thought of that but i hope they do, tbh

sebastianvettel: ❤️

user: roscoe’s too adorable!! 🥺❤️

user: i know they’ll find their way to each other eventually

ynrosberg

liked by zayn, danielricciardo and 671,048 others

ynrosberg: life so far 💗 (p.s. happy 8 months, lover)

view 5,937 comments

user: mOTHER?????? who is that????

user: 8 months???? wtf?? hello?? since when???

user: what about lewis??!

user: looks like mother gave us another dad 😔

↳ user: lewis is MY dad, idcc … zayn can be my step dad

user: so you’re telling me lewis and yn getting back together won’t happen anytime soon?? 😭😭

zayn: ❤️

↳ user: wAIT!!!! ZAYN??!??? OMG MAKALANS I KNEW THE TATTOOS LOOKED FAMILIAR WHSLs

↳ user: one direction guy????

nicorosberg: cute

↳ ynrosberg: 😌

user: they’ve been together for 8 months?? 😮😮

user: it all makes sense, i just never connected the dots

user: this was not on my 2023 bingo card 😩

user: ngl but this is actually cute

danielricciardo: cats out the bag, yayyy 🥳

↳ user: YOU KNEW!/@/&/@/‘s

user: i wonder how lewis is feeling rn

↳ user: as if he cares

user: mom, what about dad?? 😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔

user: @lewishamilton

user: nooooOo i miss dad 😭😭

user: allbio984!;’al hepan huh?!?!@ what?&@“”

user: ig those rumors a few months ago were true

↳ user: which ones???

↳ user: they were seen together like 3 months ago and there were speculations that they were together but it was never confirmed until now 😭

user: i’m still at the restaurant with dad 😢😢😢

user: yn, you’re breaking my heart 💔💔 we want dad

user: scReaming and goiNg apeshit alapamcbh93&,!;@/

user: lewis officially lost her 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

user: i can’t believe this wtf

lewishamilton

liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc and 793,927 others

lewishamilton: all too well

view 7,947 comments

user: DAD IS QUOTING “ALL TOO WELL”

user: roscoe owns my heart, idcc 🥺🥺

user: you remember it all too well, huh? 🥺

user: ya’ll remember yn posted a photo dump a while ago and one of the pic was a “all too well” aesthetic and now he’s using it as his caption??? he definitely misses her 😭😭😭

user: “just between us do you remember it all too well” you remember, she remembers, we all remember 💔

user: dad, we know know you miss mom and uncle nico

↳ user: 😭😭😭 stopp

user: roscoe 🥰🥰🥰

user: mom’s got a new boyfriend

user: ynlewis/brocedes will forever be my roman empire

georgerussell63: roscoe’s such a cutie!

↳ user: idc if you have to break yn and zayn up but we NEED our og parents back, please 🙏🏼

user: they were THE COUPLE

user: she definitely haunts all his what-ifs 😭😭

↳ user: he should’ve married her when he had the chance

↳ user: will never get over him choosing his career over her

user: @ynrosberg

user: i miss them everyday 😩

user: i often think about how if brocedes never ended the way they did they would’ve been together, just maybe

↳ user: i think about this everyday 😩😩😩😩

↳ user: they would’ve been married and with a kid by now

maxverstappen1: have you been hitting the gym?

↳ lewishamilton: always

user: it’s never too late, don’t give up

↳ user: she’s with zayn

user: i still hold on to the possibility that they’ll get back together eventually

user: timing was wrong bc they were in different stages of their lives but i believe they’ll always be soulmates ❤️

user: why’d they break up??

↳ user: bc yn wanted a family and lewis was too focused on his career at the time, i guess

user: roscoe’s a child of divorce like us 😭😭

user: convinced myself that taylor wrote verse 6 about them in all too well (10 min ver)

user: i wonder if he ever gets deja vu when he sees her or viceversa

user: ynlewis keeps me up at night

user: we lost two amazing things 😔 ynlewis & brocedes

↳ user: we can all collectively agree it’s mercedes fault

ynrosberg

liked by nicorosberg, sebastianvettel and 710,019 others

ynrosberg: an adventure is about to begin 🥰

tagged: @zayn

view 6,984 comments

user: mother is becoming a mother??!? omg 😭😭

user: congratulations!!!

zayn: can’t wait for our little one ❤️

↳ ynrosberg: ❤️❤️❤️

user: im not crying, you are 😭

user: the fact that’s she’s becoming a mother 😭 w/o lewis

user: this could’ve been lewis

↳ user: if only 😔

sebastianvettel: happy for you, congrats! ❤️❤️

↳ ynrosberg: ❤️❤️

nicorosberg: can’t wait till i’m officially an uncle 😢

↳ ynrosberg: ilyyyy ❤️

danielricciardo: IM GONNA SPOIL THAT KID

aussiegrit: congrats, yn

↳ ynrosberg: 😊😊 thanks youuu

jensonbutton: ❤️❤️❤️ congrats

↳ ynrosberg: 🥰

fernandoalo_official: 🥳🥳🥳

georgerussell63: can i be the uncle too??

↳ ynrosberg: why not 🤪

user: AHHH IM SOO HAPPY FOR YOU!!

kendalljenner: congrats, my love 🥳❤️❤️❤️

user: im so happy for her but all i can think about is lewis

user: mom becoming a mom without dad 😭😭😭😭

user: ya’ll imagine if it would’ve been lewis 😩

user: her dream came true 😭😭

carmenmmundt: ahh congratulations 🥰🥰🥰

↳ ynrosberg: ❤️❤️

heidiberger__: congrats, beautiful 💗💗

↳ ynrosberg: 🥰🥰

lewishamilton: congratulations!

↳ ynrosberg: thank you!!

↳ user: i waS NOT PREPARED FOR THIS 😭😭😭😭

↳ user: why’d he have to do this??? 😭

↳ user: the way this could’ve been him

user: lewis commented omg 😢😢😢

↳ user: i just know he’s regretting everything

user: lewis 💔💔💔

user: i know dad’s crying over this cause so am i

user: we’re all child of divorce 😭😭😭

[szasfuckingwife]

SOUNDGASM

RICHBOY!EREN YEAGER x RICHGIRL!READER

WARNINGS: SMUT, Eren calls reader a slut and whore, swearing, Eren is a secret fuck boy, reader has she/her pronouns, no mention of reader’s appearance other than what she’s wearing

SYNOPSIS: Y/N is new to Marley, just moving a few months prior. Her parents are rich doctors and she wants to be a professional golfer. At the country club, Grisha Yeager introduces his son, Eren Yeager to her. As she teach him how to improve his golfing, Eren teaches her one or two new things..

A/N: it’s finally summer time, and this summer me and my friends are going golfing🤭 i hope i find my eren + soundgasm is such a summer song, reminds me of 2016 drake for some reason

It’s 1:25pm at the country club. The sun is shining, the grass was greener than the pockets of the people there. And, above all, a pretty brunette and a pretty blonde are in that field playing a good game of golf.

Eren has his club in hand, his eyes are on the ball. Noticing that he won’t get a good swing from that distance, he scoots himself back a few steps until he finally feels comfortable. His veiny hands latch onto the club a little tighter as he takes a deep breath.

“Are you gonna hit the ball or…?” Armin is tired of waiting. He’s been waiting for his best friend ever since kindergarten. Eren had to stay behind a grade? Armin was waiting. Eren had detention? Armin was waiting.

But waiting for his best friend to hit a stupid ball was so damn infuriating.

Suddenly, Eren’s club went sky high before he hit the ball, sending the white sphere flying over the sky. The green eyed boy whistled in satisfaction; he was getting better each day.

Eren turned to his friend with a smug look on his face, “See! You want perfection? Be patient.”

Armin rolled his eyes before the two heard the familiar voice of Grisha Yeager, Eren’s father and the CFO of a tech company.

“Boys! Get in, drinks are out!” He yelled, waving his hand to grab their attention but all they could see was the bling of his Rolex. “Oh, and son? Getting better!”

Eren smiled, flashing his pearly whites.

“Not better than me though.”

This was your first time at this country club since your parents moved states. Not only was it awkward as most of the girls your age played tennis instead of golf, but all the guys who played golf were…facially challenged.

“Sweetheart, smile.” Your mother spoke through gritted teeth. She had noticed your unusual (but expected) awkwardness even when you were driving to the club.

You looked at her before sighing deeply, “Everyone here is just…weird.”

“The girls play tennis. You know how to play, why don’t you join them?”

Oh yeah, join the girls that laughed when they saw my personalised club!

If anything, you wished your mother would stop trying to get you to have fun so much, because all it did was remind you how much fun you were missing out on back home. It was heartbreaking to say bye to genuine friends and say hello to well…the plastics.

“Y/N!”, You heard your father’s voice and instantly turned around to spot him. He waved you over, looking eager and excited.

“Why is he so happy? I’m scared..” You mutter at your mother. She laughs and pushed you to his direction.

You try not to draw as much attention to yourself as you walk despite your very loud father yelling your name. Upon arrival, you see Mr Yeager, your fathers new friend.

He’s also the man that prompted the idea to move states.

Your father enthusiastically put his arm over your shoulder, “This is my daughter, Y/N.”

You stick your hand out to shake Mr Yeager’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you sir.”

“Nice to meet you too. Your father tells me that you’re applying to U of M. What’s got you so interested in Marley?”

If you wanted to be frank, and boastful, you’d tell him that you didn’t apply but rather you got a scholarship. Whether it was nepotism because it was your dads alma matter or if it was your big brain and athleticism, it was the best offer you’ve gotten.

“I heard they do good Neurology courses. I wanted to go to university and well, to put it short, make sure I have a plan B.”, You reply, smiling sweetly at both your father and Mr Yeager.

Grisha nods in acknowledgment, giving you back the same smile, “What’s your plan A then?”

“Professional golf, of course.”

It sounds boring, but golf was one of those hobbies that just never went away. You remember when you were 9, going with your father to the golf course just to see what it was like. When your dad taught you how to hit the ball, you loved it.

As you grew older, hitting the golf ball became your outlet. Like that one time you imagined that it was your teachers head instead of the ball after she gave you a C in a test.

Where others prefer an ice rink or a race track, you prefer your club and the nice smell of freshly cut grass.

“Y/N reminds me of Jordan in ‘88 but instead of a basketball court, it’s a golf course.”, embarrassment filled your body as your dad bragged about you. All you could do was laugh at his strange comparison.

“Ah, my boy does some golf in his spare time. He’s not trying to go pro, I hope, but, he could definitely use some lessons from you if you’re that good. In fact…” He looks around, squinting his eyes. “Eren!”

Right then and there, you pray with every bone in your body that this ‘Eren’ wasn’t those boys you saw earlier. God knows what you’d do to avoid teaching them a single thing.

What came, however, was a surprise. And the surprise came in the form of a boy. Not too old, maybe nineteen. He wore navy shorts and an emerald green ralph lauren vest over a plain white tee.

His hair was gelled in a small bun in the back of head. You don’t mind though, since it gave you a better view of his chiselled jawline. You’re sure it could cut your mothers diamonds at home. His eyes were green. No brighter than the grass outside, no deeper than the vest he was dressed in but some odd mixture.

He’s hot, you thought.

Grisha out a firm hand on his sons shoulder as he introduced you and your father to him, “This is my second son, Eren. You’ve already met Zeke by the tennis court.”

As your father gets into another conversation about Zeke Yeager, all you can do is stare at the curve of his younger brother’s muscles. You wish that he lifted the sleeve of his t shirt ever so slightly-

“What’s your name?”

You looked at Eren, and he looked at you.

His smile was just so…genuine!

“I’m Y/N.” You smiled sweetly back at him.

After your fathers urged you to go outside, you find yourself next to Eren on the kart. He’s driving, riding across the beautiful field.

The sky is honey coloured, the sun slowly descends giving the lake a beautiful shimmer. You’d look at that view, but there’s already a good view next to you.

Eren finally stops the kart before exiting. The both of you get your equipment from the back of the kart and begin to play.

“So…uhh how do you like it here in Marley?” Eren says, grunting after he hits the ball. You stand there, semi criticising his swing, semi fawning over him. “It’s definitely different from Trost.”

You sigh, “Yeah, the air is a little different. And not too many people play golf here.”

Eren looks at you, chuckling whilst shaking his head a little, “Aren’t you glad you met me then?”

You have no idea how glad I am.

You stay silent, instead choosing to smile and getting ready to hit the ball. Eren whistles when he sees the height of your swing. “Where’d you learn how to hit like that?”

After a couple more swings (and misses from Eren), you guys sit in the kart.

“So, where are you applying for university?”, you ask looking up at him. He scoffs, taking a sip of his water.

“No clue. All these offers and all I really want to do is go to Malta ‘n relax.” You notice how careless his face is when he speaks. He must not care that much about his future.

I mean, his parents are rich enough that both him and his brother can live off them for as long as they want to.

You look down, not in embarrassment, but in awkwardness. It’s strange seeing parents not urge their kids to go to university like your parents and Trost parents do.

“What’s your plans?”

You explain how you want to become a pro at golf. Eren listens attentively but, he get’s distracted when the breeze washes over the both of you.

The hem of your sport skirts lift up ever so slightly and Eren’s heart begins to race. For the next few conversations, he can’t stay focused. I mean, he’s just seen the curve of your ass, who could?

As the conversations die down, you and Eren go back to playing golf. It’s Eren’s turn and if he’s lucky, he can get a hole in one. He does what he did earlier: pull his hips back slightly, legs apart, breathe and…

Eren swung and you swore you saw the ball fly into the stratosphere.

“Yeager, I didn’t know you were the athlete.” You chuckle, shocked that he was actually really good.

He shrugs, “I don’t try. I feel like it just comes naturally..”

You roll your eyes as you walk over to him, pointing the end of your personalised club at him, “Teach me?”

Eren licks his lips, trying to find the words to speak but, the look that you’re giving him makes him feel butterflies. “Yeah…come ‘ere..”

You begin with your starting position, y’know the position that has won you regional competitions and a 2nd place in national.

However, you hear Eren scoff. “Don’t know how you’ve been able to pull of holes in one with that position..”

Suddenly, you feel his breath on your neck as he moves your hand up slightly to your upper chest, brushing agains your boobs.

“I don’t want this to be awkward but can you move your hips back ever so slightly..?” Eren chuckles in embarrassment. You do as he says and move your hips back until you feel his crotch against you. “Now, practice your swing without the club…”

Eren was filled with glee as he felt your ass rub up against him while you practiced your swing. “Is this alright?”

“It’s perfect…So fuckin good..”

Your brows furrow and then you finally feel it. His hard cock almost bursting out of his shorts. You didn’t stop your movements, seeing the fun in making him more distracted. He was absolutely mesmerised seeing your ass go back ‘n forth on his crotch.

Suddenly, you stop, sighing with your lips tilted up into a smirk, “I feel like I’m ready now! Thanks for the hel-”

As soon as you tried to walk away, Eren pulled you back against him. You swore you heard his heart beating a thousand times per second, and his cock was still rock hard.

“I can show you a couple more tips.” He whispered in your ear, “Just gotta listen for me, yeah?”

You nod before Eren throws your club onto the ground and pulls you into the kart.

As soon as you both sneak into the lavish looking bathroom, his lips are on yours. Hungrily making out with you, not giving you a chance to breathe. He gingerly moves you against the wall, giving you more breathless kisses.

He feverishly pulls up your lilac polo top, exposing your stomach and sports bra. Nothing comes to mind as he starts to plant wet kisses along your collarbone.

You try to fondle with his dick through his shorts but Eren wouldn’t let you, deciding he wants to make you feel good before he does.

He sits you on the white, pristine counter, pulling off your shorts in the process. “Fuck, you’re so hot…”, he says in a shushed tone. You can’t help but moan when you feel his hands on you, especially when he begins to rub your clit under your panties.

He starts of slow, achingly slow. All you want is for him to ruin you, rough and hard. But Eren is a tease, he wants you to beg for him.

And, he won’t stop till you do.

Eren feels your slick on his fingers and begins to chuckle. You look so cute like this: a whimpering mess, bucking your hips against his hand. He smirks when he hears you mew small ‘Please, Eren’s and ‘it feels s’ good!’s

“You’re such a pretty girl, huh? You’re doing so- ha- so good for me.” He grins. You see him lower himself, peeling of your panties so he’s at face level with your wet pussy. “What do you want, baby?”

You looked at him with jaded eyes, “I wanna cum..”

He shakes his head, tutting. He looked so different to that sweet boy who cheered you on at the golf course. “Manners, princess. What do you want?”

As he repeats his question, he slides a finger inside you. You moan and it sounds like beautiful to the brunette. You try to regain your voice as he stares into your eyes, blankly as if he was bored.

“I want you to make me cum, please.”

He chuckles again before letting his lips meet with your pussy. Eren takes his time with you, you’re not one of those valley girls that he’s fucked dumb in the past.

You’re different, so why should he treat you like them?

Nothing could be heard in the bathroom but your moans and the sound of your wetness against Eren’s mouth. He lapped his tongue at your clit whilst he continued to fuck you with his fingers, smiling against your sex when your fingers rip through his locks.

“Taste…so good, Y/N…” He muttered. You were so so close, wanting nothing more but to make a mess all over his mouth. Eren knows, he can feel you tightening up. “Gonna cum?”

You nod quickly but just then, he stops.

“Eren-” “Shhh, turn around, show me that ass..”

You do as he says, bending over the desks as he marvels at the curve of your ass behind you. You feel Eren strike your flesh a couple of times in awe before he slides his huge dick inside you.

He groans beside your ear as he hears you gasp, “Oh my fuckk…”

Every stroke feels like he was going deeper, kissing your cervix. His hands traveled to your chest as he lifted the bra revealing your perfect tits. You moan louder as he pounces on your neck again, kissing and biting you whilst his fingers were busy playing with your boobs.

“You knew what you were doing when I was teaching you how to swing, hm?” He chuckles. When he sees you nod, Eren slaps your ass again. “Words.”

“Yes!” you cry.

“You knew that it’d end up with you like this, right? You wanted this.” He asks, earning another ‘yes’ in response. “None of your boyfriends at Trost fucked you like this.”

“N-no! No, they didn’t! Fuck!” You moan. He tilts your head so you can look at the mirror and you finally see Eren, topless. You don’t know when he took of his top, and you were too fucked out to realise. “Shit, you’re so deep in me..”

He smiles at your comment, slapping your ass once more, “I know, sweetheart. Look at you. You pretend to- fuck- be a good girl in front of everyone but now look at you.”

You feel his hand wrapped around your throat as he pulls you back. Eren’s cheek is against yours as you both look at yourself through the mirror. Now, he’s fucking you harder than he did before. Harder and faster.

“You’re such a slut, hm?” He kisses your cheek before speeding up his thrusts. Your moans are louder than ever as he continues to ruin you.

“‘s too big!” It’s scary how croaky your voice sounds. He kisses your crown before leaning your head back and forcing your mouth open with his fingers.

“Stick out your tongue.”

And after you did so, a glob of spit fell from Eren’s lips and landed on your tongue. “Good fuckin’ girl! You close?”

Mistakenly, you nod again earning another harsh smack on your ass. “Yes, I’m close!”

“Gonna be a good girl and cum for me?!” He asks, his thrusts are amazingly fast and Eren’s lips are on your neck again.

The sight of him makes you cum alone, sweaty forehead that makes his hair curl upwards, his toned body and veiny hands gripping onto your waist and his green eyes boring into yours.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” you cry out. When you reach your climax, Eren doesn’t stop.

If anything, he thrusts deeper, chasing after his own orgasm. Your whole body shakes in his touch as he whispers the most filthy things in your ear.

“This pussys fuckin’ mine now, you hear me? I’m gonna be the one that makes you a slutty mess. You’re gonna come to me when your horny, yeah? Anytime, baby, just say the word and I won’t wait to fuck you like the whore you are.”

Although you know you shouldn’t, you nod again, your voice is too broken to respond.

He pulls out and grabs you, forcing you onto your knees. Immediately, you let Eren put his thick cock in your mouth, fucking your face just as quickly as he fucked your pussy.

You feel his thrusts get sloppier as you finally see the white ropes of cum shoot out of his cock onto your face. He groans out so many expletives but you’re too busy finishing him off to hear, making him shake at your mouth still sucking him.

Once he’s done reaching his climax, the two of you look at each other for a moment before laughing. You both look a mess, Eren with his mouth red from kissing you so hard and sweaty from…well, fucking you.

You look like a real pornstar, Eren thinks. If it wasn’t for you very obvious ambition in golfing, Eren thinks you’d make a great model.

“We need to get back…” You whisper, “They’re gonna kill us since we left all of the equipment there.”

You stand up and reach down to get your clothes, he helps you dress and dresses himself. Eren takes a tissue and wets it with water before cleaning his cum off your face.

“Next time, I’ll fuck you in the kart. And after that, I’ll fuck you on the field.” He whispers, causing you to giggle.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 54 (12.1)

part 1 | part 53 | ao3

cw: angst

Chapter 12

Steve drives to Chicago.

He wakes up to an empty bed and a sticky note by the kitchen phone, words scribbled over so the only legible thing left is the word sorry underlined in jagged black, and his breath sticks in his chest and he can't be here anymore. Epiphany ringing like a gong, sending ripples through his marrow, because the walls are closing in and Eddie decorated those walls — splattered himself over every inch of this place, and now he's just the newest haunt in a line of ghosts that Steve can't shake. He thought he’d gotten rid of them, but now he hears them louder than ever. In the hiss of the faucet, in the buzz of the fridge; they’re moaning in his bad ear and rattling his bones, and he can't be here alone with them he can't be here he can't—

So he drives.

Gets in his car with nothing but a spare jacket and a crumpled pack of cigs. If ever there was a time to pick the habit up in earnest. Eddie’s van is gone, and Steve’s heart is bruised; it's bleeding out inside him, pumping fresh hurt with every beat, so he lights a cigarette with shaking hands and heads north. Takes the back roads to the on-ramp of I-65, drives for hours; drives for years, speeding down empty stretches of highway with nothing but roadkill for company.

At some point he rolls the windows down until the icy wind makes his cheeks burn, but he can't really feel them. Can't feel his face, or his fingers, or his heart.

All the world is snow and asphalt, and Steve Harrington is alone.

He tries to drown it out with music. The radio mocks him with swooning quartets love songs — 'put your head on my shoulder' and 'life could be a dream' — and all the tapes he can reach belong to Eddie, so he pulls over on the narrow shoulder of an overpass bridge and screams and screams and screams while he chucks the cassettes over the edge.

Fuck Eddie.

Fuck him.

"FUCK YOU!!" he shouts to the foggy nothingness.

The words dig in sharp; pocket knife twisting in the space below his kidneys.

The fog doesn't respond.

Back in the car, his thoughts turn to his mom. Because he's driving to her, he knows — knew it in his splintering bones and haunted blood the moment he left town. He's driving back to his first ghost, as if confronting the original will somehow exorcise the rest.

Miles pass in silence, and Steve paints over the canvas of what-ifs again and again, oily streaks in the underpainting as he tries to set the scenes just right: quiet, tearful confrontations in his aunt's formal living room, graceless screaming matches out on the front lawn. In one version he never makes it past the guard at the front gate, and in another he just eggs the stupid lion statues leading up to the house while his mom silently weeps from the top of the stairs.

He doesn't know if his mom would laugh at that.

He doesn't know her much at all.

And that fucking hurts; that sits like acid in his lungs, because his mom was his first friend. When he was little — before the housekeepers and nannies, before his mom started tailing his dad on business trips like a trained dog on a leash — they spent so much time together. Trips to the playground, to the library, to the pool. He'd perch himself on her vanity when she got ready in the mornings, use her hairbrush as a microphone to sing along to 50s doo-wop, and she'd giggle and call him her little superstar, so he'd come up with stupid dance moves just to make her smile more.

He misses that. The script, the routine. How he'd spin around in his socks on the slippery bathroom tile and look up at her with her big hair full of rollers and her big eyes full of stars, and he'd say, "Hey! How come your eyes are all twinkly?"

And she'd grin and pinch his cheek and give the same answer every time: "Because you're the light of my life."

"I wish I knew what you'd say now," he whispers to the empty car.

For a moment he envisions that she's sitting there with him, that she's filling the blank space where the boy who broke his heart should be, but he can't remember her cadence well enough to mimic it; can't put words in her mouth when he no longer knows her lines, and with something a bit like horror and a lot like despair it occurs to him that he can't remember what she looks like. There's an apparition in his blind spot, but it's formless and unstable. The shade of its hair keeps changing; the texture, the length.

When he tries to make it speak, it shrugs and dissipates.

—

part 55

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 2.2

Prettyyyyy

Maybe John's not actually crazy for thinking Hey Jude is to him? “For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder.” fool is, in my tin hat world, often a code name for Paul in their songs. And that description is certainly him to a t actually. I wonder why I've never considered it before. 

John: are you happy here, honey? Paul: I ain't happy here my honey, can you take me back? How many songs does Paul write from 1968 on about trying to go back? One day I'm going to make a list and it'll be a long one. 

And thus begins the phase of they just can't help it, can they? But they really wish they could. They make each other so so happy, but they really wish they didn't. It would hurt less that way. 

I love the comparison of Linda's pictures of everyone else and then of John. It just shows that it's not a her problem – that's such a lovely one of George, who Hates Yoko – it's how he feels about her.

John, coming up with every possible weapon to provoke Paul, finally has Yoko sing Paul's part in one of their songs. It really is such a slap in the face. But of course breaking the sanctity of their music is what does it best. And still, all he gets out of him is a look before he walks away. Whatever it is that John wants, I think Paul literally can not give it to him. 

Btw the white album is my favorite, probably. There's just such incredible diversity on it. It's so much fun, you never get tired of it, and it's an excellent display of their genius and versatility. 

He looks like an abandoned puppy. 

What do we think? John says Paul drummed on WDWDITR. Paul says Ringo did. Who is telling the truth?

“It was getting to be where he wanted to do it like that but he couldn't make the break . . .” So John thinks Paul doing his songs by himself means he wants to break the group up? I personally read it as him not wanting to annoy everyone with his bossiness, but that's just my take. 

John talking about how it's him and Yoko now, but before, it was . . .

George needs to send them a cease and desist notice or he'll sue them for breech of character the amount of times they drag him into things he's not a part of. Especially if they're not going to even fucking spare him a glance in reality. Please and thank you, Hare Krishna. 

Paul's epigraph on the two virgins cover. “Battles to prove he was a saint”? What kind of passive aggressive shit is that, Paul?

The eternal question: what happened in India? And does John really not know? Or is he just unwilling to tell what happened to rolling stone?

Somebody please engage with that poor little boy, preferably, you know, his father. Ugh, Cynthia must've had so much anxiety watching that footage, or really any time Julian was with John. And that footage is placed in the doc right after a pic of Paul already being Heather's dad just so naturally. 

But hell, if I've ever seen attention-seeking behavior, this is it. Singing about wanting to die while seductively undressing the closest thing Paul would've had to career competition at the time. 

I'm sorry but it will forever be hilarious to me that when John's singing his part of “I've Got a Feeling” with Yoko it's “soft dream” and then with Paul it's “wet dream”. How John and Yoko tricked everyone into believing they were too horny for each other to control themselves is beyond my imagination. 

On the day John plays their sex tape, “Unusually, Yoko is not present.” LMAO girl same. John: I'm going to play our sex tape for the band tomorrow. Yoko: oh was that tomorrow? Damn, I forgot, I have a thing. 

“Well that's an interesting one.” What did John honestly expect, though? Like I know he wanted Paul to be like, “that's it! Enough is enough I'm taking you home and doing you right!” Or whatever. But what did he honestly, realistically expect?

Always saying the same things at the same time, always on the same page, same word. About everything, it seems, except their relationship. 

Paul: but you won't say anything about it. John: I said what I've been thinking. Paul: Are you still thinking that now? What are you thinking now? John: I'm still thinking about it. Infuriating. Whatever it is John's been thinking, he doesn't want to talk about it in front of cameras. Is it quitting the band? I think it's something more complicated than that but I've no idea what. 

“John, John, joooooohn!” X “Martha my Dear” crossover my beloved. The fact that literally Everyone reacts and tries to get her to stop except Paul is so extremely telling. Yoko: joooooohn! Ringo: He's busy! Yoko: joooooohn! John: Stop that! (And he looks and sounds genuinely pissed) Yoko: joooooohn! Paul: (plinking and pounding away, definitely not thinking thoughts about what he would do right now if he was a girl that will come out of his mouth fifteen years later)

Everyone's trying to figure out the problem with George vs JohnandYoko and Paul's saying “and like with Yoko, they’re real. They mean it.” Linda laughs. “I don't dig that.” You don't, Linda? What about them isn't real to her, I wonder. Does she think they don't really love each other? Or what?

Linda: *Makes fart noise* Go away! Paul: continues to defend them. Neil: everybody cough. See and this is why it sucks that get back was so edited. Because it's important that Paul's defending them here not just going on and on where nobody asked. He knows he's hurt John, and he feels bad enough about it to let him have his mommy with him at all times if that's what he needs.

If what??? Someone needs to force them to finish their damn sentences. Because I feel like he cuts himself off here when (I swear!!) he's about to say what it is that's hurting John so badly.

Anyway, here's where (imo) he's kinda wrong. Where he says "if it came to a push between Yoko and the band, it's Yoko." I think I said it in my get back posts, but I'll say it again. Yeah, if it was Yoko or the band, it's Yoko. But if it's Yoko or Paul filling all the gaps Yoko is currently filling? It's Paul. You know? And I think that's what John wants so badly at this time, actually. Is “a push between Yoko and [Paul]” ending with Paul stepping up for him in some way that he wasn't before, you know?

He really does get it though. John wanting to be as close as possible with Yoko so he doesn't lose her and their connection. Don't forget he does put Linda in his band. He gets it because it was the same with him and John. 

I really do think it's a huge myth that they just never talked about feelings or anything serious. Look at them. This is how they talk in a crowded place with their girlfriends sitting right there. They didn't just get through fifteen years of one of the greatest collaborations in history never actually talking. They talked about deep stuff. And frequently. 

[outerbankies]

you didn’t do anything wrong & squeeze my hand baby... hype to read these bestie😩🥵

new light: no surprises

nl masterlist

a/n: thank you for sending this in!!! (so very very long ago) (desperately hope whoever sent this in is still around to read it or will stumble across it one day) (feel like it wasn't what you imagined in sending these prompts, but i tried!!!) takes place in part 6 (??) after the porch swing talk but before the goodbye. yes let’s go with that and sorry for any retcon

Rafe Cameron insists on walking you to your parents’ front door every time he drops you off. It’s second nature to you, now, to wait as he opens his truck’s passenger door and shuts it behind you once he’s helped you out, his hand outstretched for yours, which has hardly touched a door handle since you began dating. He’s a romantic, big on good-night kisses, and he’ll always wait until you’re inside before he so much as turns around to start walking back to his truck.

It took some getting used to, and you’d passed the point where you thought he might give it a rest. But that never happened, and you’d come to learn you want to expect nothing less—not from him or from any other guy you’d plan to get serious with, which was hardly a thought your mind could conjure these days.

How could it, when it was always taken up with remembering the names of songs you think he’d like, or reminding yourself to change out the water in the seemingly endless vases of flowers stationed on your desk, your dresser and your night table, or by reading books he’d recommend to you only after he’d finished them—after many sessions tucked together on a beach towel under the shade of an umbrella.

But maybe just this once, you really wish he was more like your ex-boyfriend back at college, the one who dropped you off at the end of your driveway and sped away more nights than he didn’t.

Of course, that just wouldn’t be your boyfriend Rafe Cameron.

“What do you think about the mainland tomorrow?” he asks, his hand at the small of your back, the two of you climbing the steps of your parents’ porch, slowly, drawing out the moments before goodbye.

“I think I love that idea,” you decide, smiling as you think about it. 

“Let’s get the early boat,” he says. “Sarah told me about this new brunch spot.”

“I definitely trust her taste. She’s bougier than you,” you say, drawing away from him and toward the door, hand still connected to his.

“I’m not sure if I’m insulted by that,” Rafe says, pulling you back toward him before shifting his body to fit between you and the door, giving you no access to the knob. “But I am sure that I’m not ready for you to go inside yet.”

“You’re not?” you muse, slipping your arms up and around his neck. 

About a month ago, you’d be concerned about your giddiness for him being written all over your face. But Rafe’s cheeks were almost permanently tinged pink in your presence, and it only has the effect of making you want him more. 

“This dress is insane,” he says, leaning in for a peck only after his eyes sweep up your frame the way they had been doing all night. “You gonna leave your window open for me tonight?”

“Might close it early,” you shrug, pretending to ponder on it.

But Rafe is having none of it, lips catching yours in a way that should embarrass you when you know your dad’s home office has a street-facing window. “Really?”

“Y’know, gotta catch that early ferry and all.”

“What time should I come?” he murmurs against your lips, his arms constricting impossibly tighter around your waist. “Or we can skip brunch. Actually, fuck brunch and forget I said anything.”

“I’ll text you,” you say. “Alright? Just hang on a bit.”

“I’ll try,” he sighs, dropping one more kiss to your forehead as you reluctantly step away. “But no sweat. Get some sleep if you need to, sweetheart.” 

The front door flies open just as you’re making to push it in, your mother’s excited face appearing before you. Never in the history of the world has that been a good sign.

“I thought that was you two!” she says. “Rafe, a pleasure as always.” 

“You as well, Mrs. Y/l/n. I was just going.”

“Nonsense,” she says, before turning to you. “Y/n, your grandparents are here.”

You blink. “Why?”

She glances between you and Rafe, still exuberant, ignoring your question completely. “Have him come in and meet them, will you? They’ll be so excited.”

Your head is spinning, but you feel Rafe’s hand slip into yours, and you give him a squeeze for reassurance. For who, you aren’t sure. “Mom—sorry, when did they get here? I wouldn’t have went out tonight if I knew.”

“They surprised us. Now surprise them back,” she urges, turning before you answer, heels click-clacking across the foyer. She glances over her shoulder, one last enticement. “Peach pie.” 

You turn to Rafe, sighing with your face immediately buried into his chest.

His laugh reverberates. “C’mon, baby girl.”

“You don’t have to come in. I promise,” you say.

“I want to. I promise,” he answers, shrugging. “As long as it’s alright with you, it’s alright with me. Your mom’s side, right?”

Your eyes widen, thinking about the alternative. “Yes. Jesus, if it was my dad’s, we’d be back down the road already.”

You sigh, trying to steel your nerves with your eyes shut tight. The door was still open—you needed to get in there sooner or later.

“Y/n,” Rafe says, your full name falling off of his tongue and invoking in your body an involuntary reaction. He was more keen on pet names, you’d noticed, and shortening your name to the one only your friends called you. “Are you alright?”

“I’m alright,” you confirm, taking him by the hand again as you both face the entryway. Your far hand reaches up to grab at the crook of his elbow, both of your hands gripping, but not too tight.

“Are you? What’s our signal?”

You feel your eyebrows knit. “Our signal?”

“Yeah. Y’know, like a code word or something when you need an out. You and Dylan don’t have one?”

You think back to previous holidays, the eye contact made at the table, the kicks in your shins and the heavier sips when you realize you’re on the same page—that it’s time to get just drunk enough to be able to handle this without tipping anyone off. “I think our signal might just be alcohol.” 

“I’m not getting drunk in front of your dad.” 

You roll your eyes. “I know.”

“What about Kelce?” 

“What about him?” you ask. “We don’t have a signal either.”

“No, his name. The word. Just say ‘Kelce’ if you need me to dive bomb us out of the dining room,” he says. 

You shake your head, still racking your brain and prolonging the inevitable. “That won’t work. My grandma loves talking about Kelce.”

“Huh,” Rafe says, incredulous, his mouth twisting. “Imagine that.”

“Sorry,” you wince, squeezing his hand again. “Sorry—she just. We’ve been friends for so long. That doesn’t matter. They’re gonna love you.”

“Just do that,” he says, like he’s already moved on. “Just squeeze my hand, baby.”

You look down at where your hand is clasped in his, giving another experimental squeeze and having it returned.

He nods, a question in his eyes. “Got it?”

“Got it,” you say with a grateful smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “And you do it, too. You know, if she does bring up Kelce and you can’t handle it. She still talks about his prom tux.”

“Too soon, Y/l/n,” he mutters, leading you over the threshold. “Too fuckin’ soon.”

—

“No more,” Rafe groans, his hand on his stomach. “I might explode.”

You eat the last bit of peach pie off the fork you’d been offering to him, the both of you giggling as he wipes a bit from the corner of your lips. The way he licks his thumb after has you grateful your grandparents are already halfway back home—you know Rafe wouldn’t come back over later if he knew your grandparents were spending the night.

“You realize she’ll show up at Thanksgiving with, like, three of those now?” you say, setting the fork on the plate he’s holding, which he quickly puts on the table beside the couch before he leans back.

“Let her. I’ll wear an elastic band.”

“A little presumptuous,” you say. “Thinking you’ll get an invite to my mother’s Thanksgiving dinner.” 

Rafe looks temporarily affronted. “I—”

“M’joking, baby,” you say, kissing his cheek, legs thrown over his. “She’d kill me if I didn’t bring you. And now I think my grandparents would, too.”

“Cliff is chill as hell. I can’t believe your grandpa runs a nonprofit. That’s not very Figure 8 of him,” Rafe says.

You roll your eyes, burrowing your head into his chest all the same as he fails to hide any affinity, just as your grandmother had done with him. Appeasing the women in your family could never be further down on your list of priorities, especially when it came to your suitors. But you couldn’t help but feel something happy settle in your stomach, watching your mom exchange looks with her own mother as they watched Rafe. 

“Maybe that’s why they moved.”

“I guess I’m surprised,” he admits. “Your mom… she’s so…”

“Figure 8?”

“Is that okay to say?”

“Yeah. She is,” you say. “It’s kinda engrained. But I think she likes it that way.”

“You’re not like that,” he says, his thumb dragging down your shoulder and back again. “What was your grandpa saying about a job next year?”

“Hm?” you say, snuggling down further into him, eyes starting to droop. 

“I dunno,” he says quieter. “I thought Cliff was talking about you coming to work for him next year.”

You heard him correctly the first time, but you honestly hoped he’d drop it. “Yeah. Just newsletters, digital. Stuff like that.”

“That sounds cool,” he says, and you can hear him trying in vain to keep his voice even.

“He said I’d get my own office,” you admit. “And a title.”

Rafe perks up slightly. “Oh yeah?”

“Senior nepotism associate.”

“Get out of here,” he laughs, tugging on the strand of your hair that he’d been twirling around his finger, a bit of the tension breaking between you. “That shouldn’t bother you. And it figures that’s your bloodline. All those ocean cleanups you dragged us to.”

“Seem to remember you showing up to…” you trail off, counting on your hands. “1, 2… let’s see, all of them?” 

He bats at your hands. “Alright, alright. Have you thought about it though?”

“A little,” you sigh, resigning yourself to the conversation you didn’t want to have. “I know a few of his employees. And I don’t think I’d mind working for him. Their mainland office isn’t a far walk from the ferry in. It’d be great, really.” 

“But…” he pries, tugging on the strand again.

“But,” you sigh. “I don’t know. I still don’t wanna close myself off to the idea of staying in California. I love it there. I’m making ins with Agnes and her network, I know it.”

He nods, going quiet for a while as you both gaze out at the water. “It’s nice that you have options, though.”

You turn to him then, taking his far hand and holding it between yours, fiddling with the cigar band on his ring finger. “It’s a whole year away, Rafe.”

“I know,” he says, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Hey, I know. I just don’t like thinking about being away from you.”

“Well we’re… Rafe, we’re gonna be apart,” you say. “At least for a year. And that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

He nods again. “I guess... this summer, it’s just been easy to forget all of that. That I’m going to Georgia and you’re going to California, and you might not be coming back. But I am. And even though I know that... I don’t know what it says about me that I’m picturing having you here with me all the damn time.”

You’ve taken the time to picture it, too. It’s hard not to when most of the summer has been interrupted bliss, and you’ve been toying with the idea of coming back long before Rafe re-entered your picture.

“This is why I didn’t wanna talk about it,” you say morosely, beside yourself when you feel your tear ducts sting.

“Baby,” Rafe whispers. “Hey, baby. I’m sorry I brought it up. I just thought with how he was talking about it, I don’t know, it sounded like you were really considering it.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Rafe,” you tell him, willing your tears not to fall. But now that he’s onto you, that he’s reading the emotions in your eyes and feeling what’s weighing on your heart, it’s like your body decides it’s allowed to fall apart. You sniffle. “I don’t know what I’m considering. But I don’t like thinking about being away from you either.”

He thumbs away some tears, before looking back out across the horizon, the sky somehow almost an inky black color when it had just been lit up in hues of orange and pink minutes ago. 

“Hate it when you do that,” he says, his arm dropping around your shoulders again.

“What?” you ask.

“Cry because of me.”

You don’t have anything to say to that, and if you tried to speak again you might completely lose it, so you settle for slipping your hand back into his, squeezing as tight as you can.

Because you know this isn’t the first—and certainly won’t be the last—time that you’ll cry over Rafe Cameron.

[hazbininlove]

Hopelessly Devoted

Lucifer x OC

Summary: When the Divine created his angels, it was no secret that Lucifer, his Morning Star, was one of his favorites. It also was no secret that Lucifer was lonely. And so he crafted another, a half, crafted in the light of that same star. This was Esther, the Evening Star. They were two halves of a whole, balancing and completing each other perfectly. They were a pair always seen together.

Until they weren’t.

Prologue

Once upon a time, there was a glowing city protected by golden gates, known as Heaven. It was ruled by beings of pure light: Angels that worshiped good, and shielded all from evil.

Lucifer was one of these angels. He was a dreamer with fantastical ideas for all of creation, but he was seen as a troublemaker by the elders of Heaven. For they felt his way of thinking was dangerous to the order of their world. So he watched as the angels began to expand the universe in their ways.

What most versions of the Story of Hell fail to mention was another angel, created together with Lucifer. She was Esther. Where Lucifer brought light upon the angels, she signaled the dark. Together, they balanced each other. They were created for each other! Esther loved to listen to his ideas, even encouraged them, but also grounded them and helped tame the more nonsensical. When they were together, he seemed like less of a troublemaker, and she seemed brighter and more approachable.

From the dust of Earth, angels created Adam and Lilith: equals as the first of mankind. They were crafted in the idea of Lucifer and Esther, wanting mankind to begin with a couple properly balanced. Where they failed was in not knowing that personalities could not be easily recreated. Adam demanded control and Lilith refused to submit to his will. She fled the garden.

Drawn in by her fierce independence, much like his other half’s, Lucifer found her.

Here again, the true story of Hell differs, changed over time by Hell’s denizens who only knew what they saw. Lucifer and Lilith found a friendship forged from rebellion and dreams. They talked about their hopes for this new world, and together, they wished to share the magic of free will with humanity, offering the fruit of knowledge to Adam’s new bride, Eve, who gladly accepted.

But this gift came with a curse, for with this single act of disobedience, evil finally found its way into Earth. With it, a new realm of darkness and sin, and the order Heaven had worked to maintain was shattered. As punishment for their reckless act, Heaven cast Lucifer and his friend into the dark pit he had created, never allowing him to see the good that came from humanity, only the cruel and the wicked.

Ashamed, Lucifer lost his will to dream, but Lilith thrived, empowering demonkind with her voice and her songs. And left alone back in Heaven without her light-bearer was Esther…

And as the numbers of hell grew, so did its power. Threatened by this, Heaven made a truly heartless decision; that every year, they would send down an army and extermination to ensure hell and its sinners could never rise against them.

But Lilith’s hope remained, and her dream was passed down to her’s and Lucifer’s precious daughter, the Princess of Hell.

“Charlie?”

”Oh, shit! Did you hear all that?” Charlie asks awkwardly, looking back to see her girlfriend Vaggie.

”Uh, yeah, I was right there.”

“Sorry, I get pretty worked up after an extermination happens. This story helps.”

”I know. Don’t worry, I enjoy your theatrics. Are you okay?” Vaggie asks, a soft reassuring smile on her lips as she moves to sit across from her girlfriend.

”I’m fine, just thinking about, you know, family stuff… Did you know my parents never really married? Mom never really found anyone she truly loved and Dad well… he lost his. They were friends! Still are, I think. They had me hoping maybe love would spark between them but it just never clicked, I guess. But I mean, love doesn’t always have to be romantic! And-“

“Charlie,” Vaggie starts, cutting off her rambling. “I get it. You don’t have to justify anything to me.”

“I know, I just…” Charlie sighs, leaning her shoulder against Vaggie’s. “I love my parents, and I know they love me! And I know they loved each other in their own way! I don’t know, part of me wishes that they’d loved each other a little more, or married someone they truly loved! Except now Mom’s been gone for seven years and if Dad hasn’t been able to move on from someone who he was with before the Earth and Hell were even created, I don’t think he’ll ever be able to! I mean, he gave up on his dreams but not on her?! Talk about devotion!”

“It’s kind of nice though, isn’t it? Or bittersweet, I guess, to know that you can love someone so unconditionally, even after centuries apart?” Vaggie asks, trying to lift the mood.

Charlie looks up at her from her spot on her shoulder and smiles back, feeling a warmth fill her chest as she looks into her love’s eyes.

”Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

——————————————————-

Just the prologue!! I promise this won’t just be a rewrite. I just wanted to use the story Charlie tells in the beginning to highlight the background of this plot.

This is NOT a cheating plot. I am not a fan of those, nor of making Lilith or Lucifer the bad guy in this situation (ironic, I know considering they’re the king and queen of Hell). Also I do what to eventually write a story about Lilith and Lucifer with a third but that’s not this story.

Lilith and Lucifer’s relationship in this story is strictly platonic. They love each other, but as friends, and they both acknowledge that. Idk but after watching the show, I know it’s implied that Lilith left 7 years ago but it feels like their relationship was already on the decline even in Charlie’s childhood and it felt like having her was almost like a way to try and salvage their relationship, which ultimately failed.

Anyway this idea came from that, and the fact that the Morningstar refers to the planet Venus, which is ALSO called the Eveningstar. And the same way Lucifer is means “the shining one” or another name for the morning star, Esther also means “Star”.

And well, as a libra ruled by the planet Venus, representing love and balance, this felt very fitting.

[kyber-crystal]

ice ice baby || jake “hangman” seresin

summary: he knows he annoys you. you know he annoys you. and he’s made it his mission to melt your cold, dead heart. 

words: ~1.4k

warnings: hangman being cocky, this is mostly v fluffy ;)

a/n: a request from anon combined w one from @li0nh34rt​ !! i hope you like it

You suppressed a groan as an all-too familiar figure slid into the seat next to you at the bar. 

“Little miss Kazansky. And I thought my day couldn’t get any better,” Hangman grinned. “What’s a pretty lady like yourself doing here? Let me buy you a drink or somethin’.”

“Drinking my sorrows away because I’d like to forget your face,” you snarked. “Buzz off.”

Hangman frowned. “You could be a little nicer, darling.”

“And you could leave me alone for once.”

You turned to take one glance at him. His face was glowing under the dim bar lights and you hated him for looking so good even after sweating all day. Heat crawled up your neck and you looked away to avoid any more unnecessary eye contact. You had enough.

All the other aviators were more than well-aware of Hangman’s little game—it was quite amusing to them. He’d flirt with you to rile you up and had asked you out twice already, only to get shot down both times. 

“You don’t mess with Y/N,” Payback warned him. “They don’t call her Glacier for no reason. She’s ice-cold and flies fast…” 

“...Like her father,” Fanboy finished. 

“But I don’t get it. What did I ever do wrong to her?”

“Uhhhh, have you ever considered it being the fact that you keep bugging her by hitting on her every day?” Payback guessed, a sarcastic edge to his tone. “It may be funny, but I’d still be careful. You don’t know what she could be capable of doing to you.”

“Well, I’d like to find out.” Hangman was a confident man, and he was going to stay that way through all means possible. 

Minutes after finishing a training routine, you heard someone jogging after you. 

“The hell do you want, Seresin?” you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“You, me, the Hard Deck. 6:00 tonight. I’ll show you a good time.” There was that little smirk again. Damn him and his overconfidence. 

“Yeah, nice try,” you scoffed. “That’s not gonna happen. Stop chasing after what you can’t have. I’m not the girl that’s gonna give you what you want.”

“Oh, come on, sweetheart—”

“See you later!” you yelled, already walking away. 

From there on out, it became his little tradition to ask you out in different ways. First, it was a series of ridiculous pickup lines. Second, it was serenading you at the bar to your favorite song. Third, it was declaring in a loud and proud voice that he wanted to be your everything…in the middle of the dining hall. Fourth, it was putting on an elaborate show in the sky (he swore he didn’t bribe Fanboy into helping him make the banner). Fifth, it was sending a giant bouquet of carnations to your door (who told him they were your favorite? That wasn’t the point, but). 

Each time he hit on you or made any attempt to ask you out, you flat-out said no. 

“I’m busy tonight.”

“I have plans with Phoenix.”

“Dad wants to see me, so I can’t.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Go jump off a cliff or something. Do something else to get your adrenaline rush in.”

Hangman didn’t seem discouraged at all when you rejected him. If anything, it only motivated him to keep trying even harder, and it annoyed you. Sure, you were being a bit harsh, but you weren’t sure what you wanted. He knew what he wanted down to the very last little detail, but you didn’t. Relationships scared you and you didn’t know where you stood yet because you still hadn’t figured it out.

“Can’t you give me a chance for once? Why are you so cold-hearted?”

“Jake.” You exhaled, feeling exasperated out of your mind. “I’ve had enough! Please stop. I can’t take this anymore.”

You ignored the regretful feeling in your chest as you noticed he looked a bit crestfallen. “Fine. As you wish.”

Something’s on your mind, your father typed out on his keyboard. What’s the matter?

“I don’t know.”

Tom’s brows furrowed, and he continued writing. Is this about Lt. Seresin?

“How did…”

Be gentle on that man. He does care about you.

“What if that’s not what I want? What if this is all a joke? That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Is it, really?

You paused for a moment to think of all the times you perceived Hangman’s actions as annoying. When he was sending you a cheesy pickup line, he was also holding the door open for you and paying for your drinks. When he was riling you up by calling you various pet names, he was also offering you his shirt because you spilled something on yours. When he was teasing you during training, he was also going in early to make sure you took the best simulations. When he was “clinging” onto you late at night, he was only trying to walk you home to make sure you were safe. And when there were tears in your eyes, he was also handing you a box of tissues. And offering a hug for comfort, though you pushed him away. 

“I don’t know what to do.”

Be more open, give him a chance. You might find that he means as much to you as you do to him.

“Okay…I guess. I hope you’re right, Dad.”

Don’t worry. I’m always right.

You exchanged a small smile with him. “Then I’ll trust your word.”

After weeks of working back-to-back, non-stop, you were all allowed to take a break for the weekend. Bob and Payback decided set up a bonfire by the beach with s’mores, and you gathered there right after dinner. 

You were struggling as you carried a large box of soda and several bags of s’more supplies down through the sand. Noticing this, Hangman dropped what he was doing and got up from his seat, coming over to help. He took half the load from your arms to lighten the weight. 

“I was doing fine, you know,” you rolled your eyes. But that doesn’t stop your heart from warming at the gesture. “Thanks, though.”

“Anything for you, darling.”

There go the pet names again. Your face felt hot. 

The two of you set everything down next to the bonfire, and Coyote started to unload everything. And the only empty seat for you…was right next to the one and only Hangman.

“What are the odds,” you sighed as you sat down next to him in the sand, dusting yourself off. 

“You look like you’ve gone through it, Glacier,” Phoenix laughed. “What happened?”

“I didn’t sleep last night.”

“Didn’t sleep, or couldn’t?” Yeah. Too busy thinking about him. But you weren’t going to admit that. 

“Couldn’t. Something like that, but it’s the same as usual. I never get to sleep,” you let out a chuckle. “What else is new?”

“It is what it is.”

You were in the middle of listening to Maverick tell a story about his younger days when you felt someone nudge you in the side. 

Hangman held out a freshly baked s’more to you. “Here. I picked out the best one.”

You smiled a bit, and took the biscuit from him. “Thanks.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face as you looked around at your best friends—your family. Who knew that in only a few years, they’d become your home away from home, people you made lifelong memories with. You wouldn’t trade these moments for anything. 

“That look in your eyes,” Hangman noted, a soft expression in his gaze. “You should smile more, it suits you. You look pretty when you smile.”

Your cheeks warmed, despite the breezy weather. “...Oh.”

“Y’know, if you’re cold…” he began, holding his jacket out by opening his arm. “There’s always room for two.”

This time you accepted the offer and moved closer. He draped the rest of his jacket around you and you rested your head against him, closing your eyes. You didn’t say anything, wanting to savor the moment in silence. 

“That’s cute,” Payback smirked. “Kazansky melting for Seresin. Didn’t see it coming, but it makes me happy regardless.”

“Shut up and let me have my moment,” you muttered, eyes still closed. 

Hangman chuckled at this and leaned down to kiss your forehead. Maybe he wasn’t too bad, after all. 

tags: @newlibrary​ @rentskenobi @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @valorax @lifeisfullofupsanddownsliveit @sarcastic-sourwolf @ice-mans-world @burnedbrisket @fangirlinc @marveljunkie45 @knowledgefulbutterfly @levis-butterfingers @organabanks @coastingline @skylynch03 @chaoticassidy @hbstre @fantasias-creativebubble @mercury-mae @light-the-moon @winteryoungie @aie1840 @thisismypointofview @worldsoldestpizzaslice @minivture @i-wish-everything-would-be-okay @t-stark35 @thesunsetphantoms @danirose-0420 @thespeeder @lyn-lc @lunamooncole @americaarse @totomoshi @rebsmoonn @redhoodedtoad @tattikspears @joalsglasses @lunamoonbby @kyleed24 @azari-anna @quivvyintheclouds @phoenixhalliwell @winteryoungie @mychoso @lt-b-rooster-bradshaw​ @jenny-riversmith​ @krisitzeneva​ @daethsticks​ @sithwidow​ @rosie-posie1313​ @sadpetalsstuff​ @glossydi0r​ @i-simp-much​ @hay-9105​ @meeeeees-stuff​ @sweetdayme4427​ @unicornlover92​ @intrxde​ @rhiannon-russo​ @dolce-clout​ @theghost1345​ @baby-girl-e​ @greatbigshiningstar​ @joyfulbookreviewmarvelspy​

[hellfire--cult]

Request:

i’d love a sequel where there’s a bit of a “day in the life” with the new happy family, or maybe like some vignettes of them getting settled in and making their new home their own? i would literally love any more content in this universe but there’s my ideas in the hat! 🤍

-

Your wish is my command 💚

Hook!Eddie x Fem!Reader

wc 3.5K

Read the main story here. 🌟

Summary: This is what happens after everyone starts living in the home. A recap of everything that's happened until we reach the present.

You can always support your writers by hitting THE REBLOG button! 💚

You can always send requests for this beautiful couple! My ask is open!

Hooked on You: After Story

Life after was something everyone had to get used to.

The boys had to be given names, full names, and thankfully Nancy who has some contacts in the newspaper industry pulled some strings for your “orphaned” family.

You didn’t give specifics, but told her that you started dating a man who was struggling to keep his family afloat. They had no records since they were living anywhere they could, and he just picked the kids up like strays. He and his best friend took care of the kids, and that it was a coincidence in meeting when you hired a ‘cleaning service’. 

But it wasn’t just any name. 

When you showed up with a big smile to your face at dinner, while everyone was enjoying themselves with the food, you had grasped in your hands the adoption papers for each boy in the group. 

Through tears, and smiles, they had hugged you one by one, appreciating your kindness but overall, calling you a different name. 

Mom.

Eddie, whose last name he chose was Munson, was stunned when he asked if they were going to call him Dad and each boy grimaced at that outcome, shaking their heads. After that Eddie had played a game of chase with the children, playing as the big bad bear, with his hands above his head, reaching for the boys.

That was another change.

“So, this is a– what?” 

“Prosthetic. It’s not normal to have a hook as a second hand here, and this has motor sensors, so you can basically have another hand!” You had explained to him, and he was stunned at the realization that he could have his left hand back. But sometimes, he discards the prosthetic, and goes back to his hook because he feels complete with it, that’s what he had told you.

Steve, now Steve Harrington, had acquired the second mom title. Whenever you were gone, or busy, or simply tired, he took care of the boys, played with them, and helped them clean the house. 

It was summer time, but you knew you will have to enroll the kids into school soon, but you had to teach them basic things, such as the ABC, numbers, some math, a little bit of history and biology, and Eddie and Steve listened intently, giving their own teachings here and there. 

You didn’t want your boys to go into middle school without knowing at least the basics, because then everything would be too complex, so thankfully, Robin, who is a teacher, happily comes once a week to give her own teaching to the kids. You found out that Steve and her had developed a strong friendship during the two months you all had been living together.

Another thing they discovered was music.

While the kids loved normal pop songs, except for Mike who had taken a liking to punk music, Steve had loved the 80’s vibe, sticking to it, and then some 90’s, but poor Eddie had not found himself in any of those genres. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was that he might like, but it wasn’t any of that. 

You had tried almost everything, latin music, grunge, rock, techno, but he was still not feeling any of those genres. You were in your room when trying everything in his music app on his phone, and you sighed when he, once again, said he didn’t feel anything from it. 

“I really don’t know what else to play Eds…” He grabbed his phone, which you had taught everyone in the house how to use and bought one for each of them, and started scrolling. 

“There was something about that Rock genre that you showed me… Something is there, but not fully?” You frowned in confusion at his words, and you had to think outside the box. You were showing him things you liked, so maybe, you had to show him things that you wouldn’t normally listen to.

“Hang on…” You grabbed his phone again and searched for a particular playlist. You grabbed his headphones from his night table, and urged him to put them on. He was confused, but did so anyways, and you pressed play onto the playlist.

Eddie’s eyes widened at the sudden strum of a guitar, wild, heavy, powerful, chord after chord. You bit your lip as you stared at his face, and by the smile that was spreading on his cheeks you knew that you hit the jackpot. 

He spent an entire day listening to Metallica. Then the next day to Slipknot. Then Guns ‘n Roses. My Chemical Romance. Megadeth. Rammstein.

The man was a metalhead.

After finding their own music, they had to find their own style. The boys almost wore the same things, sometimes jeans, sometimes shorts, sometimes plaid shirts, sometimes stamped shirts, sneakers… Steve had gone for the rich boy vibe, as you called it. He likes polos, dress pants, tight denims, sweaters, maybe a cardigan.

Now Eddie, you were surprised. He liked everything black, ripped, and he loved the sound of chains as an accessory on his hip. When he found out there were shirts of the bands he started to like, he bought a ton of them, some in white, some in black. One thing that stayed authentic of Eddie, was the black bandana, which he sometimes uses on his head still, or he puts it in his back pocket.

But one of your favorite things in the whole day was going into your room, to finally be alone with him. He was always reading a book, and you came to find out that he loved fantasy. It was funny, because he came out of a fairytale himself, but yet he loves those kinds of books. He devoured Tolkien in a week. 

He would always put whatever he was reading down to welcome you into bed, embracing you in his arms, gentle kisses that always turned into heated ones because that’s another thing that happened. He couldn’t keep himself from touching you. 

And you didn’t want him to. The boys at first made gagging noises whenever he came into the kitchen for breakfast and gave you a morning kiss, lingering there more than it should, but they soon got used to it. Whenever he could, he was wrapping an arm around you, pulling you close, kissing your neck, your face, your shoulder, anywhere he saw skin. 

So you had to introduce him to condoms.

He wasn’t a fan of them, but when you remembered you two didn’t use protection in Neverland, he told you to not worry. In Neverland time is completely stopped, as well as your cycle, and that would explain why you didn’t have periods while being there. You were in such a blissful experience that you didn’t even remember about your period.

But in this world, you could get pregnant, and even if you want a kid of your own with Eddie, there was still so much to get used to for him. But still, it didn’t forbid him from touching every single night, wanting to drown himself in you, and you weren’t complaining. He was always up for trying new things, and you both had discovered many together.

You taught Eddie and Steve how to drive, but there wasn’t much for you to teach because as soon as they touched the steering wheel, they immediately got the hang of it, and Eddie even described it as easy as sailing a ship. You couldn’t believe a former pirate said a car feels like a ship. With the prosthetic, driving an automatic is very easy for Eddie. 

The kids love the pool, you bought a slide for it and a lot of floaters for them to swim in. You noticed how maternal you had gotten ever since getting the kids into your life, and it wasn’t something you thought of ever having. Now, you want more, for some reason. You always have to shake that thought out of your head because that would end badly.

Another thing you did, not very recommended in the summer, was getting a tattoo. You had tattooed your grandma’s drawing of Neverland. You knew there was a diary of hers, and she sometimes read the story from her own head, and sometimes from there and showed you the drawing. She explained she could see the island at the top of the clouds, while flying with Peter.

So you outlined it and tattooed it on your wrist. 

When Eddie saw it, he was immediately interested, knowing about tattoos but the tribe were the only people that knew how to do it. You decided to visit the shop once with him, and he got a hook tattoo on his ankle, to test the waters of the pain. After a week, you couldn’t find him anywhere for three hours, sending you into a panic, only for him to return with six more tattoos on his body, with a wide grin on his face.

“It's summer! One is already bad, you got seven!” You had yelled at him, but he just shrugged and grinned down at you.

“I’ll get even more in winter.” 

But summer was ending, as well as the boys started becoming nervous of going to school, which was a private one so they had to use uniforms for it. They complained of course, but you had promised them that the teacher they were having was going to be very patient and that you met the kids' parents of the class already and they all seemed nice and welcoming. 

A week before the start of classes, you decided it was time for a last pool party, and so, you invited Nancy, Jonathan and Robin over, where Robin mentioned she had a long distance friend visiting and she had asked if they could come over with their little sister, to which you agreed. 

So now, you were cutting the vegetables for the salads in your kitchen, as Jonathan helped Will start the fire outside for the BBQ. For some reason, Jonathan had taken particular liking to one of your kids, but that’s good, because Nancy had found herself teaching Mike how to play some chess, and Dustin was already attached to Eddie like a Piranha. 

One of your boys, though, was sitting alone on one of the lawn chairs, looking at nothing in particular, just the ripples of the water happening  on the pool. You put down your knife, ready to go talk to Lucas, but the doorbell rings, making your head snap that way.

“Don’t worry, I got it!” Steve yells as he rushes towards the door, opening it, to see Robin, a smile on his face as they hug tightly.

“Hi there Dingus.” She pulled away from the hug to point behind her back. “My friend is unloading something and he’s right here, okay?” 

“Yeah sure.” Steve turns his head to guide Robin towards the kitchen and garden where everyone is and she immediately bolts away. He hears a clear of throat and his head turns back around, only for his eyes to land on blue ones, knocking the breath out of his lungs in an instant.

“Hi, um… Hope we’re not intruding, it’s just, I’m with my sister and I couldn’t leave her alone.” The blonde man says, looking at Steve with the same hazed look in his eyes. Steve shook his head to come out of the trance he was in and smiled, putting his hand out for a shake.

“No issue at all! The boys will love her. I’m Steve by the way.” The other man smiles, his white teeth showing off as he presses his hand against Steve’s, electricity immediately coursing through their bodies.

“I’m Billy.”

“Are you going to keep flirting or…” A soft voice says from behind him, making Billy let go of Steve’s hand with a groan, a blush appearing on his cheeks as he makes way for the redheaded girl to come forward. “I’m Max.” 

“Oh hi–” Steve felt the presence of someone else next to him, and he turned his head to see Lucas, staring at the girl with a dreamy look in his eyes. 

“Hi… I’m Lucas.” Max’s lips tugged slightly up at the sight of the boy, her skateboard in hand. “What's that?” He pointed at it and she smiled widely, walking inside the house, grabbing onto his hand to guide him outside where everyone was.

“I’ll teach you!” Steve could hear her yell as he let Billy in. He closes the door only to see Billy looking all over the house with a confused frown on his face. 

“This is big… You all live here?” He asks and Steve stands next to him, nodding as he looks around as well.

“Yep. We are grateful to her, you know. We would have…” He suddenly heard some footsteps coming over and Steve turned his head to see Eddie reaching them, with a piece of bread in his hand, his other one reaching out to shake Billy’s.

“I’m Eddie.” He greets and Billy looks down at the prosthetic hand, shaking it carefully with him, and when Eddie lets go, the blonde man’s curiosity got the best of him.

“I’m Billy– Um… how did that happen?” He asks, pointing at the hand. Eddie looks down at it and then back at Billy.

“Crocodile bit it off.” He shrugs and walks towards the kitchen once again as Billy stands there completely stunned. Steve’s eyes were bulging out of his skull almost, and he was trying to come up with another excuse because that sounded way too unreal and he didn’t want Billy to think Eddie was messing with him.

“Fucking sick.” Billy says with a smile and he looks back down towards Steve. The brown haired man lets out a sigh of relief and then nods.

“Gruesome, but yeah, sick.” Billy just stands there looking at Steve, his mind completely drifting away and Steve could even sense that, as the blonde’s eyes were just gazing into his, and that was making Steve’s heart accelerate rapidly. “W-What’s wrong?”  That made Billy snap out but his face was still the same, still staring as if his eyes were not to be trusted.

“I-I don’t know, you just seem… like you came out of a fairytale or something.” Steve couldn’t help the big smile and blush that spread on his cheeks, while Billy realized what he had just said, embarrassment filling him from head to toe, stammering on his words to try to save it but Steve was just laughing, enjoying the man’s company and voice. 

You were sneaking glances through the kitchen door, a smile on your face as you bit your bottom lip. Everyone has someone in your family, your big family, and that fills you with joy. You felt an arm creep from behind you, pulling you close to a warm body. You giggle as his face immediately snuzzled in the crook of your neck, causing your skin to grow goosebumps from it. 

“Eddie–”

“Don’t spy on them. Let my second in command flirt in peace.” He says in your ear and you turn around to face him, smiling widely up at him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“I’m just so happy… Everyday just feels like a dream.” You say to him, and he gives you a nod, a gentle smile spreading on his lips as he leans down to kiss your cheek, then the tip of your nose, expressing his love for you.

“I will never regret the day I thought you were Wendy and kidnapped you.”

“I should sue.” He fake gasps while shaking his head at you.

“Now, you’ve hurt me Angel.” Your eyes looked to your side, seeing everyone playing with each other through the window pane you had, and your eyes filled with tears at the sight of it all. Nothing could make it better. Nothing at all… Except.

You felt Eddie grip your side, giving it a soft press to catch your attention again. You looked at him and his eyes were nervous, full of doubt yet with determination. 

“Eds? What's wrong?”

“I know… The kids don’t call me dad… But–” He licked his lips while swallowing a big lump down his throat and your heart was almost out of your chest and you could hear its beating on your ears. He gives you a big grin as a tear already rolls down your cheek.

He grabs your hand and walks out of the kitchen to take you upstairs and into your grandmother’s room. He then opens the balcony’s door and steps out with you, the breeze already hitting you and the sun beaming down at your body.

“Close your eyes Angel.” He whispers in your ear as he lets go of your hand. Your breathing became heavy as you did as told, and you raised your head up, towards where the second star to the right is. You always wished on it, wished that it wouldn’t take your love away, that it wouldn’t take your children away, wished that everything was real and not a dream.

“Eddie–”

“Open them and turn around.” You did as told, turning to see Eddie on one knee, a box on his hand as his elbow rested on his knee. Your heart got caught in your throat as you looked at the diamond in the box, covering your mouth with both of your hands as tears started spilling out uncontrollably from your eyes.

“What…?”

“I want to be their dad. I want to be with you, forever, for as long as you’ll have me, or for as long as we live. You’re it for me Angel, you have been it for me from the moment you decided to fly towards me, towards the ship, instead of here.” He choked up on a sob and then took a deep breath to keep going. “I know it’s soon, but I can’t imagine my life with anyone else. In my eyes, into my future, you’re always there. You will always be there.” 

You dropped to your knees, as happiness flourished in your chest, smiling through your tears as you put your left hand up, putting it on display for him. You looked up at his big doe eyes, a tear slipping out of his left one as he looked down at you as if you were the only thing keeping him alive.

And you were.

“I’m ready to be Mrs. Hook.”

And when our journey is through, each time we say "Goodnight", we'll thank the little star that shines, the second from the right.

A/N: Remember you can still send requests for these two! I plan on making more little one shots for them, but this one is good so you can all know what happened after the return 🥰

Hope you enjoyed this magical little thing!

Song at the bottom is Second Star to the Right from the original 1953 Peter Pan soundtrack.

[ssa-montgomery]

we're slaves to any semblance of touch

Part 2

Word Count: 8891

Summary: Y/N and Daryl have been pining after each other for weeks and when Maggie finally urges Y/N to make her move, she and Daryl end up alone for the first time. Daryl is more than happy to help Y/N lose her virginity.

Characters: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader, Maggie Rhee

Warnings: Swearing, mutual pining, loss of virginity, smut, oral sex, blow jobs, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, slight innocence kink, unprotected sex

A/N: This fic was requested here on Tumblr by @azanoni using my prompt list and I had so much fun working on this one! I'm a sucker for prison-era Daryl so I knew the prison had to be the setting for this one and I just loved this request! Please feel free to send me any requests you might have for Daryl fics :)

Prompt(s): "Show me how you like to be touched." "Is this your first time?" "I don't know what to do." "Let me teach you."

Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open!

Masterlist

By now you were really starting to question what exactly you'd done for the Georgian sun to this level of a personal grievance against you. You used the bottom of your top to twist the cap off your second water bottle of the hour, your hands too soaked with sweat to get a proper grip on it. It had finally reached that point in the middle of summer when everything was unbearable, even the metal railing of the watch tower was burning against your skin as you leaned forward on it. You thought maybe on the ground below it wouldn't be half as bad but you and Maggie and the unfortunate luck of drawing the first watch duty today. You stuck to the walkway surrounding the tower, trying as much as possible to avoid the tiny concrete sauna that was the watch tower's main room. Even out there it didn't seem to help with the humidity in the air.

Though you did have to admit, even if the heat was choking you there was always one positive to taking the watch shift - the view. The view from the tower covered most of the prison and for miles into the forest that surrounded it beyond the fence, giving you the perfect view of everyone going about their own jobs below you. 

Carol, ever the worrying mother figure to the group was making her rounds with water and food, making sure to get drinks to the people that would otherwise forget and collapse of dehydration in this heat. Further across the prison, you could see Rick tending to the fields that had been established for a more steady source of food with Carl doing his best to help. Beth sat near them, Judith playing in her lap as she watched her dad and brother work with a curious expression. As you scanned across the prison finally, your eyes fell on him.

Daryl as per usual was tucked away in his own corner of the prison, hiding away from the chatter and noise of everyone else. He was on his knees, shifting to sit back on his heels as he examined something on the old motorbike in front of him. One of the old prison toolboxes sat next to him as he searched around inside the now open side of the engine. Even from here, you could see the black streaks of greasy motor oil coating his fingers as he work them over the mechanics of the inside of the engine, holding one of the tools in his teeth while both of his hands were busy.

You couldn't pull your eyes away from the way he worked with his hands, the sweat shining on his skin where it clung to his arms and the back of his neck. There was something about the way his muscles moved under his skin while he loosened the parts with the wrench that made your skin flush with heat in an entirely different way to the harsh rays of the sun, your cheeks now burning warmer than before.

"You're starin'." The sing-song tone of Maggie's teasing voice rang out as she leaned in over your shoulder to follow your line of sight. You spun around, ripping your eyes away from Daryl no matter how much you wished you could keep watching, practically falling over yourself as you did. The rifle over your shoulder clattered against the railing as you finally steadied yourself only to be met with Maggie's grin. 

Maggie was one of your closest friends at the prison and your days on duty together like this often turned into gossip sessions for the pair of you. She was the one person you told everything to, including when you'd started to develop a crush on the tracker she'd just caught you trying to undress with your eyes.

"I'm not starin', I'm just- admirin' from a distance." Your weak excuse of a defence crumbled under one knowing look from Maggie as she tilted her head to one side, raising an eyebrow at you. Okay so maybe you were staring, maybe you did stare at him at any chance you got. Maybe you did stare at just how skilled his hands were working with his crossbow, easily manipulating it in his hands while he cleaned it or the rare, soft, loving look he got on his face whenever he was around Judith.  It didn't matter to you, as long as you were looking at him in some way nothing mattered to you. It was like everything else fell away around you. "Well, maybe I'm starin' a little."

"So you still ain't found the nerve to talk to him 'bout your feelings yet then?" Maggie asked looking at you curiously as she leaned against the wall opposite you. You could see the way she kept the perimeter of the prison in her line of sight at all times, even while you talked.

"Who says I haven't?" You brought your hand up over your heart, a fake offended gasp falling from your lips as you laughed at how obvious it was that you were still very much hiding your crush.

"You mean besides the quite frankly sad puppy dog pining?" You could always rely on Maggie to call you out on your bullshit when you needed her to. You scoffed at her blunt way of phrasing it as she laughed at you but she was right, you knew that. The pining truly had reached a whole new level. "I mean come on, everyone can see it. And with someone as observant as Daryl? He's an idiot if he hasn't already figured out your feelings for him."

At this point, you were certain Daryl already knew about your feelings for him. What was going on between the two of you was - complicated, to say the least. Maybe even more complicated than you'd let on to Maggie. You were confident it wasn't one-sided, Daryl having nearly straight out told you as much when you joked about the possibility of you having a crush on him. You could feel his eyes on you around the prison almost as much as you stared at him but things at the prison had been chaotic. Trying to establish a new community here had its own challenges and adding a relationship to the mix would have just complicated things for both of you. 

Now though, things were starting to settle, day-to-day life becoming smoother and maybe it was finally time to see if your gut feeling that Daryl wanted this just as much as you was right.

"I just - I'm nervous is all. You know I don't have much experience in certain areas Maggie, or well any experience and I don't know how to bring that up with him. It's not a conversation I've had to have with someone I really care about before." You sighed, shifting your hands nervously as you thought about it. You were willing to admit that your thoughts about Daryl more often than not turned inappropriate and you wanted nothing more than to act on them with him. Unfortunately, your experience with anything in that area stopped at a sad excuse for a messy make-out session with an asshole of an ex-boyfriend in your teen years. You didn't want to scare Daryl off if he thought your lack of practice would ruin the experience.

"I've seen the way he looks at you Y/N, given the chance that man would fall to his knees and worship the very ground you walk on. He ain't gonna care about your experience level as long as you're learnin' with him." Maggie said then, her tone serious as she gave you a reassuring look, her hand resting on your arm. Maybe she was right, you'd waited so long now that maybe it was time to stop worrying and just do something about your feelings.

"I guess the thing now is finding the time to talk to him alone with how busy we've all been lately." In the past few weeks, everyone's focus had been on turning the prison into a livable space for the group which had proved to be a challenge. When you weren't helping to clear the cell blocks you were on watch and on the rare few times you did have a day to yourself Daryl was away on runs. The most one-on-one time you'd managed to have with Daryl was during watch duty like this.

"Now correct me if I'm wrong but, he seems pretty alone down there right now." Maggie seemingly caught the nervous look on your face as you looked down at him again, torn between wanting to run straight to him and your duty to your job. Who knew when you might get another chance like this. "Just go for it, don't worry 'bout keepin' watch. I'll call Glenn, and tell Rick we wanted the time alone if he asks 'bout it. Don't waste any more time thinkin' 'bout it." 

"Thank you, Maggie, I really do appreciate this." You felt more excited than you had in a very long time as the possibilities ran through your mind. You gave Maggie a bright smile as you pulled her into a quick, tight hug before rushing to disappear down the ladder of the watch tower. You weren't going to wait for a second more.

~~~

"Whatcha doin' out here?" You asked peeking over Daryl's shoulder at the engine as you walked up behind him, your shadow towering over him as for once you were the one standing taller in your exchange. His eyes snapped up to you standing over him where he still knelt on the ground, dropping the wrench he'd been holding between his teeth. You could see the surprise on his face at your sudden presence behind him, not expecting to see you all day when he knew you were on watch duty. You let out a slight giggle at his reaction, not used to seeing him actually surprised. "Just me didn't mean to spook you."

"Nah. Ya didn't spook me." He said with an almost embarrassed shake of his head, his hair falling into his face to hide his piercing eyes. Your hand twitched at your side as you fought back the urge to reach out and brush his hair back out of his face. "Just ain't expecting anyone out 'ere is all. Pretty sure I burned out the brake pads on the last run. See that? Ain't supposed to be like that." 

You dropped your rifle down next to Daryl's crossbow and took a seat on the ground next to him, the concrete warming the skin of your legs. You leaned in as close as you could, your shoulders touching as your gaze followed his finger to where he was pointing at some exposed part of the bike. You let out a hum and nodded your head as he leaned in and started to work on pulling the piece loose. You pretended you knew what was happening just to continue watching him work with his hands, seeing each delicate touch this close up when in reality none of his bike talk made any sense to you.

"Gonna have to take her apart and replace the belt most likely." Daryl sighed, wiping his hands on his already filthy jeans as he sat back, propping one arm up on his knee. His arm brushed against yours as he moved and you sucked in a harsh breath at the contact. "A project for another day. Ain't gonna be able to do it without some scavenged parts so I gotta wait till the next run now."

There was a beat of silence as you both enjoyed the company. Daryl sat down fully on the ground, resting on his elbows as he stretched out, his legs spanning out in front of him until he was practically lying down. You watched the way his head tipped back, his eyes closing as he took in the heat of the sun on his face. His body was already covered in a thin layer of sweat, his hair sticking to the nape of his neck while his hands were coated in motor oil practically up to the wrists. 

There was something about him like this, messy and so involved in something he was passionate about that made him so attractive to you. Even when you had no idea what he was talking about you could listen to him talk all day, that deep southern accent commanding every ounce of your attention. It was rare for him to hold a conversation he was truly interested in so you savoured every single one.

"Have you been out here all day? Why don't we head inside for a bit? It would do us both some good to get out of the sun for a while and wash up before you end up with heatstroke."  You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as you realised what you'd just said, the suggestion slipping out before you could even think. Part of you was still nervous you'd the read whole situation wrong as you waited for an answer, Daryl watching you curiously. What if he really wasn't interested in you like this and you scared him off for good?

"Sure, yeah. Good idea." He nodded much to your relief and pushed himself up from the ground, rolling out his neck muscles that had grown stiff from being bent over the engine all morning he did. The movement gave you the perfect view of his muscles tensing all the way down to his shoulders and back, your eyes following them until he turned around to face you again. You tried to look away but it was too late, Daryl catching you staring directly at you. You could have sworn you saw the slight tug of a smirk at the corner of his mouth as he reached a hand out to you, grabbing your wrist to pull you up from the ground. He glanced down at your wrist and winced at the ring of oil he'd left on your skin where his fingers had been wrapped around you. "Shit sorry. Guess I really should get washed up." 

"Don't worry 'bout it." You reassured him, your fingers absentmindedly tracing where he touched you. In reality, it felt like the oil would burst into flames at any second with how your skin burned from even the simplest of touches for him. It really was time to admit you were down bad for this man. "C'mon then."

There was a look of confusion on Daryl's face as he watched you grab your gun and walk away from the entrance to the central cell block that everyone used as living quarters. Your nerves were growing, almost stripping you of your confidence as you tried to figure out a way to explain your choice without entirely clueing Daryl into your plan. 

"On a hot day like this everyone's gonna want to wash up, the queues for the washroom in there are gonna be long, the other cell block is still mostly unused and the water system works just as well." You shrugged as casually as you could, gesturing towards the other building. 

There was a flash in Daryl's eyes as you turned away from him, your hips swaying more than usual as you made your way towards the door. It was as if he realised your plan at the mention of an empty building to yourselves on the one day you skipped out on your work to give you the time alone you needed. He didn't say anything, instead nodding at you as he grabbed his crossbow and moved to catch up to you.

You could feel your heart beating against your ribs almost hard enough to break free as you walked, Daryl's low strides quickly catching him until his steps fell in time with yours. Neither of you said anything as you walked, both of your minds racing with the idea of what could possibly happen when you were finally alone together. 

You were the first to push open the door to the cell block to find you were right, it was entirely empty, your footsteps echoing off the high ceiling. Unlike the other cell block, this one had only recently been cleared for use and people who were already settled in the other building hadn't bothered to move their stuff out there yet leaving the two of you completely alone.

"See? Told you we could skip the lines." You laughed, hoping your playful tone masked the nerves bubbling just below the surface. Your plan was more spur of the moment and as a result, was far from well thought out. Sure you finally had Daryl alone but you had no idea how to go about outright asking him for what you wanted or how to get him to make the first move on you.

"Clever girl." His eyes seemed to trace a path down your body as he spoke, no longer trying to hide the way he let his gaze linger on certain parts of your body a little longer. The sound of the praise coming from him had that blush threatening to creep back up on your cheeks. Something in the air had changed, it was no longer heavy with humidity but instead with a tension between you that could have been sliced with a knife.

You slipped your gun back off your shoulder and left it on the table in the main entrance hall along with the belt holster you'd become so fond of and it was shortly followed by the sound of Daryl's crossbow clattering down next to them. You turned to head down the hall towards the washroom, genuinely looking forward to cleaning the heat of the day off your skin even if this was all part of your plan. You had expected Daryl to wait in the hall until you were done so he could take his turn but instead to your surprise, he followed you down the hall and into the washroom. 

There wasn't a word exchanged between the two of you as you cleaned yourselves up, a tension filling the air that you both seemed unwilling to break just yet. You slowly cleaned the oil from your wrist, the action more of a second thought as your focus stayed on the mirror in front of you. In its reflection, you could see Daryl running his hands under the water, carefully rubbing away the oil on his skin. He dipped his head down and splashed his face with the running water, washing away the oil he'd managed to smear over his brow. You copied his movements, the cold water admittedly feeling amazing against your face.

The final part of your plan clicked in your mind at that moment, this was your chance if you were ever going to get one. If you were being honest the front of your tank top was admittedly filthy. Your morning started with helping Carol collect the ingredients for breakfast from the fields in the front of the prison and the dirt was still caked into the material of your top. In a split-second decision, you were sliding the top off over your head before you could back out, leaving you standing in only your grey sports bra.

Your hands practically shook as you dipped the top under the running water and tried to rub away the dirt. You weren't sure that Daryl was even looking, his back still towards you as you took one final look in the mirror before turning your attention to cleaning your top. You thought you might actually forget how to breathe if you let yourself think about what you were doing too much but it didn't take long to get your answer.

Daryl's fingertips were still cold from the water as they met your back, the feeling a strong contrast against your warm skin. He was standing directly behind you now, his movements nervous, as if he was still afraid of reading the situation wrong but he was playing into exactly what you wanted. His fingers traced a path down your spine, starting at the bottom of your neck and coming to a stop just above the waistband of your shorts.

"Is this alrigh'?" He asked, his voice rough and uneven, already becoming laced with lust but needing your reassurance before he went any further. He needed to hear you say this was what you wanted. You turned around to face him, his hands falling to the rim of the sink as he trapped you between it and his chest. Your breathing was becoming laboured already, your cheeks turning red with the heat that was now burning through your veins. At that moment you had never been more certain of anything in your life.

"Daryl, I didn't invite you out to the only empty building around for no reason." You laughed, the sound light and sweet to his ears as you basked in the feeling of this finally happening. Sure you'd know for a while this wasn't one-sided but to have Daryl confirm it felt surreal, part of you thought you were dreaming this entire thing. You reached out a hand and let it gently rest on his chest right over his heart, feeling it beat against your palm as it picked up speed. This wasn't a dream, this was very real. "I've been thinking about this for a long time. I want this."

That was all the invitation Daryl needed as he brought one hand up to cover yours, lacing your fingers together as he leaned in, his lips finally, finally meeting yours. The kiss was softer than you'd expected, slower. His lips moved carefully over yours as he took his time, learning how your body melted against his, the way you moved as your lips started to match his movements. It had been a long time since you'd kissed anyone and you were admittedly out of practice but there was something about Daryl, about the way his hands fit so perfectly around your waist that calmed your nerves and made everything flow more naturally.

"You were really plannin' this the whole time?" Daryl smirked against your lips, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. You squirmed under his stare, feeling overwhelmed by just how much power he had over you already. "You didn't give a damn 'bout my bike, did ya?"

"Daryl you are so incredibly sweet when you talk about what you're passionate about. I could listen to you all day." You sighed finally giving into the urge and reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes as you smiled sweetly at him. "But I have no fucking clue what you're talking about when it comes to that bike."

Daryl let out a laugh at that, a genuine, loud laugh that you'd never heard from him before. The sound made your heart skip a beat, it was like music to your ears, your smile lighting up your whole face as you watched him. There was something about seeing him like this, the side of him that no one else got to see, the side that was for you and you only that made you curious about what else he had to show you. That needy feeling was starting to take over again as you took both his hands in yours and slowly started to walk towards the washroom door, leading him behind you.

"You think these cells are still as intact as ours?" You asked, your voice still managing to hold that hint of innocence despite the intentions that question so obviously held. Daryl happily followed you out into the main cell block before taking the lead, pulling you into a small cell further down the first row. The cell was cleaner than you expected, the bed was still made with a soft blanket and there was a gas-light lamp sitting on the desk giving the room a surprisingly cosy feeling. You looked around the room and slowly started to recognise the clothes scattered around as Daryl's

"Sometimes I need space to myself." He shrugged as he caught the look of recognition on your face. He dropped down onto the bed and spread his legs apart, pulling you in by the waist until you were standing between them. "You ain't the only one with yer eye on this cell block. Been wantin' to take ya up here for a while."

Daryl slid his fingers into the belt loops of your shorts and pulled you even closer until you were pressed against him, chest to chest. You made the move this time, leaning in to kiss him slowly as you melted into his touch. His hands found your hips and gently squeezed before starting to slide downwards, exploring every curve of your body. You couldn't believe you weren't the only one who'd been thinking about this. You grew needier the more you thought about Daryl fantasising about bringing you out here and who knows what else he'd thought about doing with you.

He pulled away from the kiss and took in the sight of you standing in front of him in nothing but your bra, his hands running up your bare sides as he did. His touch was gentle against your skin, almost curious, exploring as he took note of every reaction and sound he drew from you. You let out a soft sigh as his hands trailed down to grab at the back of your thighs and he took the opportunity to pull you into another kiss, sliding his tongue into your open mouth. 

His hands were so close to where you needed them now and all you could think about was how much you wanted him to touch you properly, to relieve some of the pressure between your legs that was now becoming unbearable. Instead, he took his hands off you earning a disappointed whine as he leaned back on his hands on the bed, tilting his head to the side as he watched you closely.

"Show me how ya like to be touched. Wanna treat ya right." He said then, his voice holding that commanding tone that made you weak at the knees. You could feel the flush settling over your chest, creeping up into your face and betraying your false confidence as he placed all the focus on you. It wasn't that you were completely inexperienced with pleasure. You'd touched yourself before, admittedly mostly to the thought of Daryl but that was different. Those times you were focused on the end goal, there was none of the teasing or neediness you wanted from Daryl. You wanted him to touch you like you were the only thing he cared about in the world. 

"I uh -" You stuttered over your words, trying to find the best way to voice your thoughts to Daryl but the words seemed to die in your throat. You could feel the embarrassment you'd feared clawing its way up into your chest as you watched the expression on Daryl's face change. He seemed to have pieced it together but his look was more curious than it was judgemental.

"Is this yer first time?" He asked, his voice soft and quiet as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His thumb traced across your side trying to ease your anxiety as he waited for an answer.

"I hope that's not a turn-off." You chuckled nervously, turning your face away from his gaze as you admitted the truth. Admittedly it did make you feel better to finally have it out in the open and Daryl didn't seem as affected by the news as you'd expected. 

"There ain't nuthin' you could do or say that's gonna be a turn-off. Been wantin' ya too damn bad for anythin' to change that." Daryl reassured you, pressing a kiss to the centre of your chest. You could feel your anxiety melting away at his words and the way his lips felt against your skin. The scruff of his beard tickled your skin as he tilted his face up to meet your gaze, the surprising softness in his steel eyes almost taking your breath away. His lips moved over your collarbone pressing gentle kisses there. "I'll take care of ya, be gentle with ya, I promise."

 "I trust you." You nodded knowing he meant every word of it.  You'd never trusted anyone in the way you trusted Daryl. Your hands fell to the back of his neck, running through the hair there before lightly pulling. You loved the new shaggy look he had as he grew his hair out longer, it suited him nicely you thought. Daryl tugged on your waist, pulling you down to straddle his lap before his hands glided up your back, meeting the edge of your sports bra. You got the hint as he snapped the elastic against your skin and leaned back, giving him the space to pull the material up over your head.

You could practically feel the path his eyes burned across your skin as he took in the slight of your now entirely bare chest. His touch returned to your chest, his calloused hands gently kneading at your breasts. You whined out at the feeling of finally having Daryl touching you like this as his palms rolled over your sensitive nipples. His own eyes were heavy with lust as he stared at the way your breasts looked under his hands, enjoying the feeling of your warm skin under his touch.

"You look fuckin' incredible like this Doll," Daryl mumbled against your skin as his lips found their way to your neck, moving across the front of your throat. The words seemed to tumble from his mouth before he even really thought about them and the rare praise from him had you rolling your hips against him, your body searching for any friction it could get. Your reaction spurred him on as he realised how much you loved the praise. "Best tits I've ever seen."

"Daryl." You tried to hold onto enough of your decency to still at least sound embarrassed by the way he was talking but his name sounded more like a moan on your lips. You didn't want to admit how much his words affected you but the way your hips started to grind against your control showed it. His lips left a trail of red blotches across your skin in their wake as his blunt nails dragged down your back, marking you as his.

"I mean it. Every word. Could spend all day worshippin' this perfect fuckin' body. Got an ass to die for too." His hands roamed lower down your back until he grabbed at your ass, using his grip to pull you closer to him. You collapsed into his chest, your arms winding around his neck as you pulled him into a needy kiss. He squeezed at your ass, making your hips roll forward again and with this new position you could feel his erection straining against his pants underneath you.

His need was growing with each kiss, his lips growing rougher, messier against yours with each kiss becoming all teeth and tongue. You needed more, needed everything you'd been daydreaming about with him. You had a hundred fantasies running through your head and even if you were unsure what you were doing you wanted to learn, with him.

The kiss broke as you shifted further back in his lap, his mouth chasing yours as you pulled away with a teasing look on your face. You glanced down at his lap as your hands finally found his belt. Daryl let out a soft groan as you played with the leather material before you started to thread it through the buckle, sinking off his lap and onto the ground between his thighs. As he pieced together what you were trying to do he caught your wrist then, urging you back up.

"You don't gotta do that, not yer first time."  You smiled up at Daryl through your lashes, giving him the sweetest look. It truly was heartwarming how willing he was to put the full attention of this moment on you but you'd been dreaming about what it would be like to go down on him for weeks now. 

"I know but I wanna." You reassured him, kissing the inside of his wrist where he was still holding yours in his hand. You let the kiss linger for a moment longer, feeling his pulse under your lips. "I just- I don't know what to do really is all."

"Let me teach ya then." He said, his voice raspy with the thought of just how much you wanted to please him. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about you on your knees like this for him before. He quickly undid his own belt before kicking his boots and tattered, well-worn jeans off to one side leaving him in just his boxers. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs at the sight of the outline of his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. You hadn't even touched him and yet your head was swimming, making you feel drunker than any alcohol ever had. "Just go slow, take ya time." 

You reached out and lightly dragged your fingers across his cock over his boxers, feeling the way he twitched as your touch pulled a strangled moan from his lips. The sound awoke something in you, making you forget about your own nervousness for a moment as you went for it, finally tugging off his boxers to throw them down with the rest of his clothes. You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock and slowly stroked him up and down, watching for even the smallest reactions on his face. You could see the rise and fall of his chest as he fought to keep his eyes open, watching you as you let your tongue peek out, leaving kitten licks just under the head on every downward stroke.

"That's it Darlin' j'st like that." His southern drawl deepened as the lust he was feeling took over, building higher and higher. There was something about your innocence and how willing you were to learn, to let him be the one to ruin you that turned him on beyond belief. You kissed your way up his length all the way from the bottom until your tongue ran across the tip, licking up the precum that was starting to build up there. You leaned in then and took the tip between your lips, looking up at him as you slowly pushed your head forward. Your tongue ran along the underside as you took the first inch or two. "C'mon ya can take a lil' more, atta girl." 

You couldn't say no to the praise coming from Daryl as you pressed forward again, stopping just before his cock moved far enough back in your throat to make you gag. You moaned lightly around him at the feeling of finally having your mouth on him, the sound vibrating in your throat sending a spark of pleasure through Daryl,  You let your tongue do the work as you held him in your mouth, letting your body adjust to breathing through your nose as you traced along the vein that ran up the length before lapping over the rip.

"Suck." He said then, his voice breaking on the word as he tapped your full cheek. His hand found its way to your hair, tangling his fingers there as he slowly started to pull your head back before urging you forward again, setting your pace. He needed more, needed movement before he lost his mind. "Ya gotta suck and move yer head." 

You followed his instructions, hollowing out your cheeks as you matched the pace he set for you, bobbing your head over his cock. His hand tightened in your hair as you sucked and he let out a low groan of your name, his head falling back towards the ceiling. You pressed your thighs together in hopes of getting some relief as you ached between your legs at the noises he made. You got a little too eager at how good you were making him feel and took him deeper than you could, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as he hit the back of your throat and you gagged around him.

"Shit-" He moaned out at the feeling of sliding further into your throat, getting him even closer to the edge but he held himself back, resisting the urge to thrust his hips knowing it was too much for you. "Just breath, 'ts alrigh'. Easy sweetheart."

It sounded like he needed to listen to his own advice as his breathing grew heavy, his ragged breaths turning to groans as each movement brought him closer to the edge. You could feel your panties being ruined between your legs, growing wetter with each gasp and breathy moan of your name that fell from his lips. You started to gain more confidence and brought your hand up to join the mix, stroking what you couldn't take into your mouth

"Fuck!" Daryl practically growled low in his throat as he used his grip on your hair to pull you off him rougher than he'd intended as you started to move your hand harder along his cock. You looked up at him, wide-eyed with fear that you'd done something wrong but that quickly faded when you saw the look on his face. He collapsed backwards on the small bed, his eyes screwed shut as his hand tightened around the base of his cock, trying to regain control over himself. His chest was rising rapidly, a string of curses falling from his mouth. "Fuck- I almost fuckin' came. Christ woman how the hell was that your first time? That mouth is sinful." 

"You could have you know," The mix of knowing just how good you'd made Daryl feel and your slight nervousness at matching his dirty talk made you giggle. You rested your chin on his thigh and looked up at him through your lashes, sinking your teeth into your already swollen and saliva-coated bottom lip. "Come in my mouth. Kind of hoped you would."

"Next time Darlin' next time." You could feel your heart racing at the thought of a next time with Daryl already. You never wanted anyone else after this, Daryl was all you needed. He leaned down and helped you up from the rough cell floor, his hands smoothing over the harsh red marks showing on your knees. You kind of hoped they'd last, as a reminder. "C'mere to me."

You crawled onto the bed next to Daryl as he sat up and finally shrugged off his leather bike vest and short-sleeved flannel, giving you a full view of his chest. His body was perfect, every mark and scar just adding to how attractive he was to you. You ran your hands over his skin, feeling the way his stomach muscles tensed under your touch the lower you reached. Every touch and every moment of this was better than you could have ever imagined. You could never have imagined how hard his muscles would feel under your hands as they moved to his forearms, tracing over the tattoos there. 

Daryl's hands found their way back to your waist and he easily manhandled you, moving you however he wanted until you were lying down on the bed underneath him. He kneeled over you, grabbing your jaw in both hands as he crushed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss that knocked the air from your lungs. He was already strung out, his entire body on edge from how close he'd been earlier but still, his hands were gentle with you as they slid over your stomach, his kiss the only thing betraying how desperate he was.

He made quick work of your shorts, flicking the button open with one hand before pulling them down your legs. Within seconds of your shorts hitting the ground, Daryl sipped his hand into the front of your panties, slowly dragging his fingers across your folds as he felt how wet you were.

"This all for me? Did ya get this wet just from suckin' my dick?" He asked his voice dripping with that teasing tone that drove you wild, stopping his movements until you answered him.

"Yes. All for you Daryl." You gasped as he drew his fingers around your clit in painstakingly light circles as a reward for your answer. It was enough contact to send fire burning through your nerves but nowhere near enough to give you any kind of release. You bucked your hips up into his hand, hoping to get any kind of pressure but instead, he pulled his hand back out of your underwear moving to pull the already ruined material down your legs. He threw your panties to the side and returned his thumb to its previous position, brushing over your clit while he slowly pushed his middle finger inside you.

"Fuck ya really are tight aren't ya?"Daryl groaned out feeling the way you clenched around his finger as he imagined what it would feel like around his cock. He slowly pumped his finger in and out of you as he started to stretch you out. You were admittedly worried about being able to take Daryl when you felt the slight burn from his finger alone and he was bigger than you'd expected. "Don't worry sweetheart, I'll make sure yer ready." 

The feeling of Daryl fingering you was unlike anything you could have ever had with your own hands. His fingers were thicker than yours, stretching you out as he a second one to the mix and they were skilled. Years of working with his crossbow gave him the precision he needed to find your g-spot as he hooked his fingers inside of you. You never knew it could feel this good when it was someone else bringing you pleasure. He leaned down and caught the sounds of your moans with his mouth in a messy kiss.

He trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses across your jaw and down your throat towards your chest, you already knew they'd leave a mark as he sucked at your skin. His teeth nipped at your collarbone as you lost yourself in the pleasure that was starting to build higher and higher in the pit of your stomach. His tongue licked across your skin, soothing where he'd just bitten before slowly moving down to lap across the curve of your breasts. He focused his attention on you, trying to ignore how painful hard he was as he felt you buck up against his hand at another curve of his fingers. His lips latched around your nipple as his fingers never let up their pace, slowly stretching you out until Daryl could easily slide a third finger in.

Daryl grew restless with each minute that passed, changing his focus to your other breast as he sucked and lapped his tongue across the hardened nipple. The feeling of you clenching around his fingers as your hips thrust up to meet his movements drove him crazy. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Think ya can take me now sweetheart?" He asked, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned in close to whisper in your ear, his hot, uneven breath fanning across your skin. Your hands found his shoulders before sliding up to lock around his neck, pulling him into a kiss as you nodded. You were more than ready to feel Daryl inside of you, your body practically screaming at you with how badly you needed to come.

"Y-yeah Daryl please, please fuck me." You whined out at the feeling of Daryl pulling his fingers out of you, suddenly clenching around nothing. He brought his hand up admiring the slick coat of your arousal that coated his fingers before slipping them into his mouth. He let his eyes fall shut as he sucked, his tongue licking the taste of you from his fingers. 

"Fucking hell woman, I'm eatin' that pussy first chance I get. Taste so damn sweet." He groaned out, that low gravelly sound pooling between your legs as you pictured Daryl's head between your thighs. "But right now I might just fuckin' explode if I don't fuck ya."

Daryl shifted you both into a more comfortable position as he settled between your legs, his hands pushing your thighs further apart. He took a minute to admire the sight of you spread open in front of him before he lifted one leg to wrap around his waist. You got the hint, digging your heel into the small of his back to pull him even closer. You could feel his cock pressing against your folds when he adjusted himself as close as he could get to you.

"Ya ready for this?" He asked looking down between your bodies as he took his cock in his hand and teased the head over your clit. You threw your head back at the feeling, your leg tightening around his waist.

"I want you, Daryl." You gasped out, nodding your consent as he move his cock lower to gather some of the wetness around your entrance. Lube hadn't exactly been a top priority on your last few runs but Daryl still wanted to make sure this was as comfortable as possible for you as he stroked himself, spreading your arousal over his cock. 

With your final nod of approval, he pushed forward, the first few inches sliding inside you. You cried out at the feeling, your back arching off the bed as your hands grasped his arms, dragging your nails across his skin. Even with how much Daryl had tried to prepare you it still burned as your body fought to adjust to his size. Your chest heaved with your harsh breaths as you whimpered.

"Shh hush sweetheart yer alrigh'. Just breathe, it'll get better I promise. I'll go slow." You could feel your body relaxing from the simple words of praise from him as his hand cupped your jaw, swiping his thumb across your cheek. He moved at your pace, waiting until he felt your muscles relax, releasing their tight grip on him before he thrust forward again. This time he sunk into you fully, holding himself close to your body as he fought every instinct that was telling him to thrust, to just move. He buried his face in your chest, placing kisses between your breasts as he waited for you to adjust again.

"Daryl - move, please." The pleading tone in your voice sounded foreign even to your own ears but you couldn't help it. You had never felt this full, so completely surrounded as Daryl's body caged you into the bed. He stretched you out in all the best ways and even the pain it caused got you higher and higher. It felt like time slowed around you as Daryl stayed still inside of you and it was driving you crazy, you needed more, needed to feel him move.

Daryl wasted no time in giving you what you wanted, he pulled out almost entirely before thrusting back in. The rhyme he set was slow but deep, each thrust reaching a place inside you that had you moaning out at the contact. You gave into the feeling more and more as you adjusted, the pain giving way to pure pleasure. There was something freeing about being in the building alone, you didn't have to worry about who would hear you or what kind of attention you'd attract as your moans grew louder which each thrust until you were damn near screaming Daryl's name.

This feeling was far beyond anything you'd experienced before, beyond anything you could have imagined. Your senses were entirely overwhelmed by him, the feeling of each thrust building you towards the best orgasm of your life. The sound of his pants were growing heavier in your ear with each thrust and you were breathing in the rich, heady scent that was so unmistakably Daryl that made your head spin whenever you were around him.

You dragged your nails down his back, feeling the raised skin of his scars under your touch as you went, leaving new red marks after you. His thrusts were starting to grow sloppy, losing their rhyme as they came faster than before as he chased his own release while trying to keep his focus on you. His hands pinned your hips down to the bed as you tried to arch into the feeling, completely losing control of your body as your brain melted with how close you were.

All it took to break the pressure that was building inside of you was one swift drag of his thumb across your clit and you were spasming around him, your entire body freezing as you came hard. You grasped at him, needing something, anything to ground you as broken moans fell from your lips.

"Daryl! Oh god - I - shit - please. Please." You weren't sure what exactly you were begging him for anymore, all you knew was everything was too much and yet somehow not enough at all. Your control over your body entirely shut down as you turned to putty in his hands, letting him use you in whatever way he needed as he chased his own orgasm.

"Fuck ya feel fuckin' perfect, that pussy squeezin' me like that. Look so fuckin' sexy when ya cum like that for me. I coulda watched that forever." Daryl's words were becoming slurred as he spoke, barely making any sense anymore as his entire focus was on the feeling you were bringing him. His hips snapped roughly against you to the point of almost being painful before finally he rutted against you, moaning loudly into your neck as he came. You could feel him twitching inside you as he collapsed against you, his arms giving out underneath him. He didn't bother pulling out of you yet. "Doll ya have ruined me forever, I ain't ever gonna get as good a fuck with anybody else. Don't wanna either." 

"Daryl that was - that was- holy shit." You laughed but it came out more breathy as you collapsed back against the pillows, trying to steady your breathing. Daryl slowly pulled out of you, the feeling making you groan out at the slight discomfort but you were almost glad of the ache that you knew would remind you of what you'd done for days.

"Hope that was as good as ya were expectin' for yer first time," Daryl said nuzzling his nose under your jaw as he lay down beside you on the small bed, turning you on your side so he could pull you back against his chest.

"It was more than perfect, thank you, Daryl." You reassured him as you tangled your arms with his that had settled around your waist. You lost track of how long you lay like that, simply enjoying each other's company as Daryl pressed light kisses across your skin. You could have easily fallen asleep like that and any other time and you would have but you were still technically on duty. "We should get back before the others start askin' questions." 

Daryl hummed his agreement as he watched you sit up on the bed, running his hand up your back before you put your bra back on. He stood up from the bed as you started to dress yourself again and quickly threw back on his pants, walking over to grab a clean washcloth from the desk. Without saying a word he knelt down in front of you and gently wiped away the mess between your legs, leaving a light kiss against the outside of your thigh once you were clean. You could feel your heart flutter at the gesture, just the simple act of him taking the time to take care of you.

With your tank top still damp and abandoned in the sink of the washroom you slipped Daryl's oversized shirt on over your head before reaching to grab your panties from the pile of clothes. You glanced around in confusion when you noticed they weren't next to your shorts anymore.

"Daryl did you see my -" You looked up to see the cheeky grin on his face as he slipped his hand into his back pocket and dangled your panties from the tip of his finger in front of your face.

"Lookin' for these?" You rolled your eyes and reached to grab them from him but he quickly dodged your movement tucking them back into his pocket. "Consider it a keepsake. Until next time."

"Well in that case," You stood up slipping back on your shorts with nothing underneath, even after everything you'd just done it felt like the naughtiest thing you'd done all day. The denim rubbed against you in all the places you were still sensitive. You pushed up on your toes to kiss his cheek before whispering the next words in his ear. "I'll find a cuter pair for you to keep next time."

Taglist: @azanoni @ineedmorefanfics2

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 18/?

Prev | Next

Happy belated birthday to the GOAT Alfred Pennyworth and my little meow meow Jason Peter Todd-Wayne

“So, Ellie isn’t your cousin; she’s your sister even though you’re pretending she’s your cousin.”

“Yep,” Danny said while popping the ‘p.’

It was his dad’s birthday. Auntie Raven and Uncle Roy had visited to celebrate. Right now, Danny was trying to explain his family dynamic to Lian.

“And Auntie Jazz is pretending to be your aunt, but she’s really your older sister.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m so confused.”

“The only thing you have to know is that you’re my only cousin.”

Lian was still confused but nodded, happy. She didn’t bring up Mar’i again. The last time she had, the whole mood had gone sad. She didn’t want Uncle Jay to be sad again.

“What’d you bring, daddy,” Danny asked, changing the subject. His family tree was weird, and he didn’t want to think about it anymore.

“I made him a bracelet!”

“That’s so cool! I asked Jazz to take me to a used bookstore and bought him a few books I think he might like.”

Lian giggled, “He’ll love it. Uncle Jay is a bookworm.”

Danny and Lian fell into laughing fits. The two fathers found their respective children playing and giggling amongst themselves. It warmed Roy’s and Jason’s hearts.

“Hey, munchkins, Jay is about to cut the cake. Are you guys coming?”

The two children looked at each other and ran out, their fathers following them.

 Danny and Lian ran outside to a table Jazz, and Raven had put out. Balloons and banners were decorating the table with presents in the middle.

Raven brought out the cake and set it on the table.

Jason couldn’t help but revel in the joy and contentment permeating the air.  

He felt peaceful as his little family sang the birthday song, and if he wished for his happiness to last forever, well, no one would have to know.

____

Alfred couldn’t help but feel the loss of his missing grandson as his family sang Happy Birthday.

Still, he smiled as his remaining grandchildren, son, and great-grandchild wished him a happy birthday. And when he blew out the candle wishing for his family to be complete once more, well, he was allowed to think selfishly on his special day.

They ate the chocolate cake, and he was about to open birthday presents when the doorbell rang. Alfred’s heart skipped a beat. Could it be…?

No, better not to get his hopes high.

“I’ll get it,” Bruce said.

The family continued celebrating.

Bruce came back with a package, his eyes misting a little.

“It’s for you, Alfred. It’s from Jason.”

The room got quiet. Alfred got the package with shaking hands and opened it. Everyone in the room waited with bated breath. Here was the proof that Jason was alive.

Alfred took out a first-edition Dracula signed by Bram Stroker.

His grandson hadn’t forgotten him. He sent Alfred a birthday present that was special between the two of them.

Alfred couldn’t send him a present.

The older man couldn’t help but cry.

Have some fluff; have some angst

@idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon @all-mights-asscheeks

[xlovely-daydreamsx]

IFHY CH. 1 (Miguel O’Hara x Reader)

God, he can’t stop himself now. Not with how you peer up at him through long lashes, eyes glazed over with lust. Not with how your tongue darts out to lick your lips and he thinks about capturing them in his own, biting at them until they’re red and swollen and that adorable pout is forever plastered on your face.

He watches your fingers glide under the waistband of his suit, manicured nails scraping lightly against the skin there and he almost moans. 

How long had it been since he let another person touch him like this, or rather, at all?

Warnings: nsfw (18+), possesiveness, rough, mild blood, dirty talk, mentions of character death, you and miguel are both sad and bad at coping

Word Count: 4085

Note: This might be an ongoing series because I have So Many Thoughts. Feel free to send me asks about anything confusing, and let me know if I should continue to post this here or not... IFHY is a Tyler the Creator song, which y’all should listen to - it’s my Miguel’s anthem basically lmfao. ANYWAYS pls enjoy i appreciate u all!

When the spiders begin to infect your world, you know the only person who can keep things under control is you. At least, you’re the only one anyone would hold accountable if they decided to do something… unsavory, and if the large black hole in the middle of New York City was indicative of anything, it was that the spiders were nothing but trouble.

Peter called you first, because he always did. 

“Uhm, boss lady, there’s some other Spider-Men here, and they want me to join some secret society? I think I’m being recruited into the Illuminati…” he trails off, obviously whispering into the phone. Since your father had passed, Peter had sort of… leaned on you, in a sense. You hadn’t any recollection of meeting the boy despite his Avenger status, but he looked at you with so much melancholy in his gaze that you knew he must see something of Tony in you, and you’d allow it simply to make yourself feel better. Nobody thinks you’re anything like your dad, but on days like these, you can only wish you were.

“I’ll be right there, Pete.” You mumble back, setting his location into KAREN and heading out, thick black wings spreading behind you, launching you into the night.

The explosion comes moments after.

You see it in the sky - a clash of black and white that seems unworldly, knocking the wind from beneath your wings and sending you flying back, tumbling towards one of the hundreds of towering buildings in New York.

Crack. You hear it as you collide, feeling the dig of concrete and glass into your back - a feeling you’re all too familiar with, and yet it seems like so long ago that you had felt it last. It’s almost… exhilarating. 

You steady yourself with a foot against the building, launching yourself off of it and back towards the wreckage of whatever unfortunate event was unfolding in your city.

You watch beeps, signaling your close proximity to Peter and you begin your descent to him.

It was horrible, really, how excited you were at the idea of a fight. The last time you had been involved in something like this was with him by your side… maybe if everything went awry, you could join him soon enough.

There’s a huge fucking hole in your city, you realize as you approach.

“KAREN,” you speak into your wrist as you glide by, “send the bots out to scan and contain the area.” She replies with a conformation, but you’re too transfixed on the pit beneath you. It’s horribly, endlessly back, and you feel yourself being tugged towards it ever-so-slightly as you fly. 

You need to find Peter, and fast.

You see the other spiders before you see yours. There’s three of them, all with striking blue and red suits, drawing your eye in curiosity. They all looked so… different. You expected some evil version of Peter, red eyes and big fangs and very obviously variants of your Spider-Man, but the crowd that greets you is nothing of the sort.

You plummet down to the surface, positioning yourself in front of your spider. His suit glimmers with gold and metals- a suit your dad supposedly had made for him.

Looking at it makes you a little queasy, and you fight the urge to stare at your palms, covered in the same glittering metals.

“(Y/N)!” Peter sounds so relieved. He’s always happy to have that weight off his shoulders, free of carrying the burden all on his own. You wonder how long he’d been doing so before you recruited him into the New Avengers.

You wonder how anyone could give up control like he can.

“I guess you guys haven’t gotten the memo,” you gesture at the trio of spiders in front of you. A biker chick, a ballerina, and the biggest fucking beefcake you’ve ever seen in your life; it’s somehow not the weirdest group of friends you’ve seen in your days in the city, “but Earth-616 is closed for tourism and immigration. I don’t care what planet, galaxy, dimension y’all are from, but you need to leave.”

“Sorry, pendeja, we’re not here for you. This is obviously Spider-Man business, no?” The beefcake speaks, strolling towards you leisurely. His arms are crossed, horribly large things that strain under the fabric of his suit. You smile warmly at him, cocking your head.

“Mmh, no.” The smile drops, “I am Earth-616’s representative, not Spider-Man.”

“I work for her!” Peter points at you, nodding to the other Spider-People. You try not to cringe.

“That’s your problem, not mine. My problem,” he points behind you at the gaping hole in the city, “is that.” He’s closer to you now, absolutely looming over you, and it’s then that you realize how truly large he is. You’d always been on the smaller side of the scale, but his stature was all encompassing, his shadow engulfing you with no effort at all. 

You watch as his eyes drift down to you, then back over your head at the pit, and with a little jingle on your watch, you’re prompted to bring your eyes to it, too. Your drones had arrived, and were making quick work of scanning the hole and surrounding areas.

“Don’t worry, little buddy,” you reach up and pat his arm - oh my God, he’s rock fucking solid, “I’m already taking care of it.”

He practically growls at you, “You don’t have the technology to take care of it; we barely do, and this is our specialty.” 

“Was that supposed to sound impressive?” He grimaces, “It’s okay to admit that someone’s better than you.”

The scowl he gives you sends a shiver down your spine.

“Look, I don’t have time to argue with some… little girl, okay? That hole could destroy your universe, do you understand? Now, step back and let us do our work.” You simply watch him as he steps past you to the ledge of the building, rocketing himself off of it. He flies for a minute, rather impressively, you might add, but it isn’t long before he approaches the hole and slams into something transparent, a ripple of blue emanating from where he collided with your drones’ protective barrier.

You turn to the other spider-people, who you can tell are trying to hold back laughter.

“Now, are we open to collaboration?”

Your house is so empty. Apartment, penthouse, whatever you want to call it, it was always the same when you got back. No laughter, no steps echoing through the hall, no glasses clinking in the kitchen. It’s just you and the ghosts of the life you’ll never get back.

So, when you enter the penthouse with a visitor in tow, the sound of his footsteps following close behind you - something other than the sound of your keys jingling and your ragged breathing - it almost feels alien to the space around you. This home wasn’t meant for people anymore; this was your silent prison.

But it’s comforting in a way. It feels familiar… melancholic. 

“You’ve got this whole place to yourself?” He lets his eyes wander over the space as you lead him down the hall, past the kitchen and towards the stairs.

“Yup,” you say with a pop of the P, sounding characteristically unenthusiastic about it. What you wouldn’t give to have that be untrue.

“It’s not as fun as you’d think it would be,” you lead him down the stairs, down, down, down towards the lab. Your father’s lab, which you haven’t bothered to enter in so many months. You had let Sam and Rhodey take whatever they wanted, but you hadn’t bothered to look. There was nothing worth seeing down here, anyways.

“I know it’s not,” he replies like it’s the most casual thing in the world, like everyone knows what it’s like to be totally, truly alone like you, “the silence is… too much.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you simply type in your code, allowing the glass door to slide open for him. The room is big, much bigger than you remember but somehow suffocating all the same.

You realize after a moment that there isn’t a single suit left in the lab, and you wonder if they really needed them, or if it was some kind of kindness for you.

You elect to stop looking.

“Make yourself at home, big guy.” You say, making quick work of cleaning your desk by simply wiping it all onto the floor with a clang. You don’t know what it was going to be, nor do you care to - he wasn’t there to help you finish it, and you had more work to do than ever. “KAREN, pull up our data on the big hole, please.”

‘Our earlier scans indicate that the hole is actually a large concentration of Anti-Matter,’ her robotic voice thrums through the room, holograms of information popping up all around you, ‘our drones have managed to contain it for the time being, but it seems to be trying to expand within the barrier’s perimeters.’

“I have one of those, too,” Miguel says behind you, too close for comfort. His presence is all-encompassing, casting you in a shadow, 

“A big hole?” You cock your head, and he only shakes his head disapprovingly.

“LYLA, pull up our data to compare.”

Another voice chimes as a little woman appears in front of you, a pout on her face.

“What, I don’t get a please? KAREN got one,” her eyes drift to you, “can I work for you instead?” Miguel just sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Now, please, LYLA.” She smiles, and your blue holograms are soon accompanied by orange, merging together in a technicolor lightshow in front of you both. 

“A lot of this data actually overlaps,” LYLA says, flickering in and out of view all over the room, inspecting everything you have to offer, “but your drones missed a few key components.” She expands a few pieces, covering you in the orange light of her holos. 

It’s times like these that you wish you really were Tony Stark’s daughter- then you might have a tiny bit of his intelligence to understand what was in front of you.

You’d figure it out eventually, though - you always do.

You can’t help but notice how much he looks at you. Your work had been rather silent so far, only small comments made when absolutely necessary on his part, but his eyes say more to you than anything else. Deep, dark circles that match your own, watching every move you make. Every bend, stretch, turn - his eyes are on you, tracing your delicate form.

You were well aware of the effect you have on men. Since you were young, much too young, you had known - you were the cover of Playboy at 16, Vogue and Cosmo in the following years, now too many to count. Teenage heartthrob (Y/N) Stark, just as wild and untamed as her father had been. At least, that’s always what they had said. You never tried to seduce anyone, but who wouldn’t want to be on their knees for a Stark?

Miguel, apparently, because every time you would catch his gaze he would avert it, avoiding your attention like the plague. He’s like a wild animal, cornered, threatened, by you. By your mere presence.

To be completely honest, it bothered you. Everyone wanted you, would try to take a bite whenever opportunity arose, so what was so special about him? Why wouldn’t he try? 

If you know anything, it’s that men love the chase.

And yet he won’t chase you at all.

It’s… irritating, you decide, but a good challenge nonetheless.

“You know,” you say, breaking the silence. You find yourself approaching his workspace, feet moving without any real thought behind it.

“You look lonely,” your hand trails against the desk and he watches as it glides across the sleek metal, his shoulders tense but unmoving, “We could keep each other company.”

You’re in front of him now, his knees slightly spread as he sits, and you knock them with your own to make room for yourself, sinking in between the space he makes for you.

“(Y/N),” he practically growls, and you know he wants it just as much as you do. You know he doesn’t think he deserves it. You know it’s an act of self punishment, so you ignore it. 

Your hand glides across the fabric of the suit straining against his thick, muscled thighs. You trail higher, higher up to the V of his hips and he releases a shuddering breath. Fingers searching until they find the button they’re looking for, allowing the lower half of his suit to release.

“Do you want me to?”

“Do you want me, too?” She asks him, her touch featherlight on his skin. She sets him ablaze, sending shivers wracking his body and a growing heat in his groin that he hasn’t felt in so long, save for lonely nights in his quarters, fisting himself shamefully in the shower and washing the evidence of his crimes down the drain. He needs it more than he’s willing to admit, and the way your voice echoes in his ears, soft and sweet and innocent. He can’t bring himself to tell you no, even though he knows you’d never ask him such a thing if you really knew him. But you want him, and it’s been so long since someone has wanted him, so he simply threads his fingers through your hair. 

God, he can’t stop himself now. Not with how you peer up at him through long lashes, eyes glazed over with lust. Not with how your tongue darts out to lick your lips and he thinks about capturing them in his own, biting at them until they’re red and swollen and that adorable pout is forever plastered on your face.

He watches your fingers glide under the waistband of his suit, manicured nails scraping lightly against the skin there and he almost moans. 

How long had it been since he let another person touch him like this, or rather, at all?

You pull the waistband down, down until his cock springs out of its place under the fabric, the head already pink and dripping.

Jesus, he looks so large compared to you. Your hands barely fit around it, the length of it seemingly almost as big as your head. You were so small, though - everything about you was small, and yet you acted so much larger than life that he had forgotten how fragile you appeared to be. He can’t forget it now, though - not with the comparison right in front of him; not with the way you were on your knees for him.

You place small kisses against his length, moving ever higher and leaving a trail of spit behind that left him aching. You sent him a coy smile before you licked against his tip, precum smearing on your lips like gloss. You take the head in easily, tongue swirling across the slit in a way that makes his hips buck up, but you keep your composure, a small hand against his pelvis to push him back down.

He reaches for it, taking your wrist in his hand, which completely engulfs you.

“Muñeca,” he lets out a shaky sigh, “I know you can take it.” No more words are needed - he knows you understand with the way you gaze up at him, your jaw going slack and your tongue laying flat underneath his cock. He tightens the hand in your hair and pushes you down, thrusting deep into your throat. He keeps pushing, fucking into you like a fleshlight, feeling the warm wetness of it with every motion. He wanted to mould you to the shape of his cock, have you still feel the ghost of him every time you swallow, missing the feeling of choking on him.

You gag around him but stay lax, pliant - obedient. Those eyes, God, glossy and tearful, but wanting. You want this, him, you want him, you want him-

He pushes your head down to his pubes, holding you there as your throat constricts around him and he cums deep, an iron grip keeping you in place as he empties into you.

With a rough shove, you’re off his cock and you stumble backwards off your knees, catching yourself on your hand as you cough. He barely gives you a second before an impossibly large hand grabs your face, fingers pushing roughly into your jaw.

“Show me,” he commands, and you oblige without complaint, mouth open and tongue out with an aah.

“Mi niña buena, no? So hungry for my cum.” He says, and you have the audacity to smile, nodding with your eyes shut lazily, nuzzling slightly into his grip.

He can’t control himself a second longer.

He grabs you harshly by the arm, pulling you upwards into his lap and straight into a kiss. He can’t help but growl into it, too much teeth on his end but he needs to feel in control, like he can capture you with every swipe of his tongue into your mouth and every nip against your bottom lip.

He thinks he tastes blood.

His hands find your thighs and he lifts you up, claws digging into your soft, supple skin as he drops you on the desk, pushing you with a harsh hand against your chest. Your back hits the table, cold metal against the part of your skin unveiled by your shirt riding up high on your back.

Miguel doesn’t have time to undress you, no time for tenderness or patience. Instead, he rips at your shorts, his animalistic claws tearing through the fabric of both them and your undergarments, leaving you bare below the waist and he takes it all in eagerly, eyes scanning every part of your body. He pushes your shirt upward, exposing your breasts kept carefully under a plain, black bra. One swipe of a claw and that falls away, too, leaving you completely exposed.

You don’t even look embarrassed.

Miguel is the one falling to his knees now, coming face to face with your bare pussy like a man praying at the altar, and it’s with closed eyes and shaking palms that he buries himself into it, tongue lapping incessantly at your folds.

He eats like a starving man, tongue flicking against your clit over and over until your back is arching inches above table, white knuckling the edges of it as abuses your sensitive cunt. 

The lust coursing through him threatens to tear him apart, so he braces himself with hands on your thighs, claws digging into the skin and leaving you with a hot pain to accompany the unending pleasure he’s giving you.

He sucks against your clit and your hand instinctively reaches for him, threading into his black locks and rutting against his tongue as you cum hard, harder than you ever have by yourself, alone in that room with your multitude of toys. Despite the many men you had been with, nothing could have prepared you for the beast that sits between your legs, eyes dark with a hunger that threatens to swallow you whole.

“Miguel, please,” You don’t even know what you’re begging for - more, mercy, you aren’t sure, but his figure is looming over you in seconds, his cock already hard once again as he rubs the tip against your sopping wet entrance, slick sounds echoing in the room along with your pants.

“Gonna fill you up with my cock, chiquita. Fill you up and stretch you out. Fuck,” he bares his fangs and you moan, “you want it, baby? Tell me you want it.” He grabs you by the jaw again, fingers gliding across your blood stained lips. “Ask your papi real sweet like.”

You can tell he wants it just as much as you do, feeling the heat from his cock against you, his precum adding to the slick of your cunt, but you want to beg him, want to obey, so you oblige.

“Please, please, fuck, I want you inside me. Break me, Miguel, please.”

Break you - fuck, he could do that. Every part of his body threatened to; his sharp claws against your soft skin, strong grip and large hands on your delicate wrists, his towering frame over your own, much smaller one. He was Godzilla and you were fucking Tokyo. 

His dick pushed into you entirely ungentle, his bestial tendencies apparent in everything he does. Your thighs are covered in scratches, some smeared with small lines of blood, and the constant mix of pain and pleasure makes your head spin.

He stretches you out thoroughly, his massive girth shoved into you inch by inch until he’s hilt-deep inside of you and you swear you can feel him in your womb.

He doesn’t waste any time, pumping in and out of you at a bruising pace, pulling you down to the hilt with every movement. You can barely think, head spinning, filled only with thoughts of the strong figure fucking into you like a dog in heat.

He’s so, so much bigger than anything else you’d ever had, and the way he stretches you open leaves your stomach in knots.

He’s in love with your pussy. The taste of you is like honey, your warmth engulfs his cock in a pleasure like no other- it’s like you were made for him.

He leans down and captures you into another kiss, broken up by your incessant moans with every thrust of him into your cervix. It’s all too much and not enough at the same time, and when he pulls out of the kiss and opts to leave trails of them along your neck, teeth nipping and gnashing at the skin they find there. Every part of this man threatens to consume you, and yet you give yourself up readily, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your nails into his back as you moan. 

He growls against your shoulder and you feel sharp teeth pierce into you, deep searing pain that rips a cry out of your mouth as your orgasm crashes over you. He fucks your through it, hard thrust after thrust until you feel him twitching inside you and he buries himself balls deep, cock pulsing as he fills you with cum.

Neither of you can bother to care about the implications.

He can’t help but stare down at you as you lay there, chest heaving and eyes half-lidded. You looked fucked, and it took everything in him to stop himself from fucking you again. Maybe he went too rough, he thinks as he stares at the bleeding bite on your shoulder and scratches littering your body, but when he pulls out and your pussy is gushing with your cum and his own, he can’t bring himself to regret it in the slightest.

“You took it so well, (Y/N).” The sound of your name on his tongue pulls you out of your stupor and you can only respond with a groan, your hand rubbing against your eyes.

You needed a shower and a nap.

You push yourself up onto your elbows and watch as he secures his suit back in place, the traces of your deeds only apparent on your soiled figure.

He presses a few buttons on his watch, and in a moment, a small, metal spider crawls out of it, making you furrow your brow as you watch him fiddle with it. Holding it by the leg, he holds it out to you, and you hold your palm up warily. It drops into your palm, skittering before settling itself in your grasp.

“All the data you need is compiled on that little guy. Try to take care of it, okay?” You nod, much too tired to speak.

Miguel’s eyes flit over you one last time, and the way his brow furrows leaves you wondering what exactly he’s thinking in that gorgeous head of his.

He takes one impossibly large step toward you, hand reaching for your face and it takes all your willpower not to flinch away from him. His grasp is gentle this time, thumb tracing against the soft curve of your jaw as he places a small, delicate kiss against your forehead.

“Take care, chiquita.” 

And with that, he takes his leave, the light of his portal dimming as he exits, leaving you alone.

[morganski-19]

Thumbs

Based on the song by Lucy Dacus cw: implied child abuse, implied violence

Eddie places the phone back on the receiver, not releasing his hand after the little click of the receiver turning off. There’s a far-off look in his eye, just gazing off into the distance at nothing. Mouth slightly agape, breathing deeply while standing otherwise perfectly still. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, walking softly to Eddie. 

“That was my dad. Said he was in town, wanted to meet.”

He reaches across to Eddie’s hand, peeling the fingers off of the phone one by one and holding them in his hand. “You don’t have to see him. You don’t owe him that.”

“I couldn’t say no,” Eddie says, a line of tears filling his fixed gaze. “It was like I was ten years old again.”

“I’ll go with you, so you’re not alone with him.”

A single tear falls down Eddie's cheek as he nods, breaking his rigid stance as he starts to crumble. Steve pulls him in close, holding his head close to his chest while he cries. Tears for his younger self full of fear and pain, and tears that he’ll have to go through it all again. 

When they enter the bar, there’s a man sitting at a table, waving with the smile of someone who thinks they’ve done nothing wrong. Eddie grips Steve’s hand and gives him a look. He knows that Eddie doesn’t want to do this, but knows that he can’t say no. Never could, not when he knew what his father’s capable of. 

They walk over and sit down, Eddie releasing his grip on Steve’s hand. The man before them calls over a waiter before even saying hello, ordering a rum and coke. The idea of drinking either of them now tainted with the bile the man emits. His presence is looming like a haze, sending chills down his spine and clouding his vision. With one word, Steve would strike, get them as far away from him, and never look back. But Eddie agreed to this, and maybe this will be the end of this. Maybe he’ll never have to see his father again. 

“Kid, I gotta tell you. You look great. I mean you’re all grown now. What are you now, 23? I sent you a check for your birthday, did you get it?” The words roll off his tongue like they’re meant to be there. As if he was some distant relative you saw at a party once a year. A role that was never his to play. He didn’t get to do that just because he decided that being a father was harder. 

Eddie grabs Steve’s knee under the table, squeezing it. “I didn’t.” The words said innocently as if he didn’t know what question was coming next. 

“You’ll have to give me your address then, the one Wayne gave me must have been the wrong one.”

Steve knew what he was doing. Trying to force himself back into Eddie’s life, trying to get back into his head. It wasn’t going to work, not with Steve. No one gets to manipulate Eddie into anything, especially this. 

Eddie squeezes Steve’s knee harder, digging his nails into his jeans. “I’m sure it was the right one,” is all he says, forcing a smile, a phantom compared to the ones he normally wears. Steve doesn’t even know how he can smile right now at all. 

“I’m sure your friend here would give it to me. Wouldn’t you,” he gestures for Steve to fill in his name. 

“Steve,” he says curtly. “And I’m sure Wayne gave you the right one. The mail can just be slow.”

He glares into the man’s eyes, furious at what he sees. They're the same eyes he looks into every day, the same eyes he loves. But they're different here, crueler, darker. He hates that Eddie got anything from him. Hates that something that makes Eddie so Eddie can be traced back to him. 

The man moves on, unwilling to admit that he lost his upper hand. He just keeps talking, stories of prison mates, and filling in the gaps of Eddie’s life in his mind with stories he could only wish were true. You’re prom was like that, wasn’t it, Ed? I’m sure you’ve stolen a few cars now and then. My son, getting the grades and breaking hearts, right? 

Eddie just smiles when he feels his dad is looking for one. He doesn’t have a right to that smile, to anything that Eddie has. These stories that he’s creating are a false narrative of Eddie’s life, built to make him feel bad for not fulfilling them. In reality, all of what his dad could come up with was wrong. Eddie was so much more than his dad could ever see.

They sit there, listening to the man talk for what feels like an eternity, but was really only an hour. Eddie is so stiff sitting beside Steve, so afraid to move. He’s said so little this entire time, just nodding and agreeing with whatever his dad says. The fear is present in his eyes, Steve knows that’s only fueling the man across from them to continue. He hates it. 

He imagines what would happen if there was no one else here. If Steve would run into this man without Eddie here to stop him. Only one would walk away and he wouldn’t regret it, not for one moment. No one gets to make Eddie feel like this, ever. Not if Steve can help it. Even now he can picture pressing into the eyes that they share, making sure only one of them has them left. That they’re Eddie’s and Eddie’s alone. He doesn’t need to see any reminder of this man in the mirror every day. 

Steve clears his throat. “We should be getting home. We have that dinner with Robin, remember.”

Eddie turns to look at Steve, thanks traveling through with just a gaze. “Right.”

“You boys need a ride?”

“No, that’s alright,” Steve supplies, already standing, making sure to puff out his chest just a bit to look more intimidating. 

Eddie stands and turns without another word, walking away while his father yells out a goodbye, cursing him for not doing the same. When the doors close behind them, Eddie grabs Steve’s hand again, letting out all of the breath in his lungs. Steve says nothing but squeezes Eddie’s hand to let him know he’s here. 

When they start walking, he tenses up again. “I can feel him watching.”

Steve turns his head, seeing the man a block behind them, watching from a distance. “Turn left, we’ll walk the other way for a while.”

That while ended up being a mile. It didn’t need to be, after a few blocks the man gave up, leaving them to the road. That didn’t matter though, it was better to be safe. When it was finally far enough away, Steve hailed a cab, bringing them home. 

Eddie collapses into him when they get back to their apartment, hugging him close, not letting him go. “I hate him,” he cries. “I hate that I’m related to him.”

“No, you’re not. Not to me. Other than blood, that man is nothing to you. Nothing important anyway.” Steve takes Eddie’s face in his hands, wiping away the tears. “Blood means nothing, not when it treats you like that. You don’t owe him shit, never do, never will, no matter what he says.”

More tears stream out of Eddie’s eyes as Steve presses a kiss to his forehead, wrapping him up in another hug. He holds him close as the tears come and just keep coming. 

The fact that Eddie can even smile at all after what that man put him through is an amazement. He’s seen joy shine through his face more times than he can count, and not once has it been fake. The person who he clutches to his chest is nothing like his father. And that only makes him better. He grew up to be the exact person that his father would hate if he ever got to know. To Steve, that’s an accomplishment. As far as he’s concerned, that man is the epitome of everything that’s bad, and Eddie is everything that’s good.

“If he calls again, give the phone to me, ok. You’ll never have to hear his voice again if you don’t want to. You owe him nothing, not another word.”

And it’s true. Eddie gives him nothing more than he already gave today. The next time the man calls, he gives the phone to Steve. He didn’t hold back that time, filling the line with how much the man failed, how much of a disappointment and a terror he was. Steve hung up before he even got a word in. 

It wasn’t the last phone call, but it was the last either of them ever paid attention to. Every other time, the phone was hung back up on the wall before he could end the sentence. Because he didn’t deserve anything, so they didn’t give it to him. 

[thislovintime]

The Monkees with CFUN DJ's Terry David Mulligan and John Tanner in Vancouver, April 1, 1967.

“Regina: CKCK’s Terry David Mulligan claims to be the first Canadian air personality with an interview with the Monkees and he has a tape to prove it. Anyone wishing a copy can take Mulligan up on his boast by sending him a blank tape and he will return a dub to sender. Terry also did a 30 minute Christmas show with Peter Tork, his sister and brother. They sang cuts from the Monkees new LP (Mulligan sings too)[,] sang a few carols and just chit-chatted in a relaxing mood.” - RPM Canada, January 28, 1967 (this Christmas 1966 anecdote was previously posted here and more about Christmas 1967 here)

“History records that The Monkees played their first Canadian concert in Winnipeg on April 1/1967. What never gets mentioned is that the first time all four Monkees set foot on Canuck soil was many hours earlier, in Vancouver, while en route to Manitoba’s capital city. Top 50 radio station CFUN assigned two deejays—Terry David Mulligan and John Tanner—to meet Micky Dolenz, Davy Jones, Michael Nesmith and Peter Tork at Vancouver International Airport. A photo op ensued in a private waiting area as the lads waited, shortly after sunrise, to board a connecting flight. 'If you study that picture, you could tell two of the guys (Davy and Peter) were really into it and the other two (Micky and Mike) didn’t really want to be there,' recalls Mulligan (second from right in photo). 'They weren’t pissed off at us. They were just tired and weren’t particularly into having their picture taken that early in the morning.' Nevertheless, all six exchanged pleasantries. Despite the early hour, Davy Jones seemed friendly and 'Mike Nesmith was so whip smart, while Micky Dolenz had this interesting Hollywood vibe about him,' remembers Mulligan. Terry and Peter got the opportunity to renew acquaintances. The previous year, when Mulligan was spinning discs at CJME Regina, 'who should walk in but Peter Tork. Of course, I asked: "What are YOU doing here?" And Peter answered: "My dad (Halsten John Thorkelson) teaches at the University of Saskatchewan and I dig your radio program."' Peter would take a couple of additional breaks from Monkees commitments to visit his family. Each time, he’d visit Mulligan at CJME. 'We’d always have really good off-air chats, in between as I was playing records.' For his part, CFUN deejay John Tanner (second from left in photo) boarded the plane bound for Winnipeg with The Monkees. 'I remember being at the tail of the plane while The Monkees and their entourage were much further forward. I walked up there at one point and noticed some of them were sleeping. So I went back to my seat as I didn’t want to bother anyone.' Prior to the late afternoon Monkees concert at the Winnipeg Arena, Tanner said he killed some time walking 'what seemed to be the coldest streets in Winnipeg.' Indeed, band insider David Price would mention the frigid 17 degrees Fahrenheit daytime temperature when he subsequently wrote a four-page article titled My Life With The Monkees—That Wild Canadian Weekend for 16 magazine that detailed the April 1 concert in Winnipeg and the ensuing show in Toronto on April 2. Price, who also served as a decoy for Davy Jones (in addition to other band duties), claimed The Monkees came to Canada aware of rumours that attempts might be made on their lives during the two concerts. In the 16 magazine piece, Price wrote: 'Mike asked me and his friend Charlie Rockett and Mike’s wife Phyllis’s brother Bruce Barbour to make sure that any packages that landed onstage were thrown off again, because one of them might contain a bomb.' In the end, the only ‘bomb’ at the Winnipeg show was a water bomb hurled at Micky Dolenz atop the seven-foot high stage just before opening song Last Train To Clarksville. Seconds before, the four Monkees burst out of phoney amplifiers on either side of the stage, with the boys having hidden themselves within when the house lights were momentarily turned off. Likely backing up The Monkees onstage was Candy Store Prophets. If so, that band’s members—including guitarist Tommy Boyce and keyboardist Bobby Hart—had played on many early Monkees studio tracks that Boyce and Hart produced. Winnipeg-based Electric Jug & Blues band opened the show. Press reports later revealed that before the concert, rambunctious fans charged past about 30 police officers as the band left the Hotel Fort Garry for the arena. Monkees publicist Don Berrigan described the incident as a 'near riot' adding 'Mike and Davy were knocked down. It was really nasty.' There were apparently well over 400 police and security inside the arena. Perhaps it was the security concerns that resulted in Winnipeg and Toronto fans receiving slightly shorter concerts than about a dozen previous American shows in late 1966 and early ‘67—13-song setlists, three less than south of the border. The Winnipeg concert marked the first time Peter Tork-sung Your Auntie Grizelda, was played publicly. 'He really dug it, and so did the audience,' wrote Price. [...] Back in Winnipeg, after final song I’m A Believer, the band rushed to limos to return to the hotel, before taking an evening flight to Toronto. A subsequent Canadian Press article noted that one policeman was taken to hospital after a wire retaining fence collapsed on him when 'thousands of fans surged towards the rear exits in an unsuccessful bid to catch a glimpse of their departing idols.' The officer was treated for cuts and abrasions and released. The official capacity of Winnipeg Arena was 11,800. But Price claimed that several hundred additional tickets were sold just before showtime, resulting in an attendance closer to 12,500. Later that Saturday night, The Monkees checked out of the hotel and headed to the airport in what Price described as near-blizzard conditions. For his part, CFUN deejay John Tanner got a kick out of the 'wild and crazy' show he had just witnessed. 'It was kind of a thrill being there.' The photo taken back in Vancouver earlier that day would be published in the April 8 copy of the C-FUNTASTIC FIFTY survey given away at Greater Vancouver record stores. Part of the photo ID read 'They said it couldn’t be done' — likely a veiled reference to doubts that The Monkees would trek north for concerts so soon into their existence.” - Richard Skelly, Facebook, April 1, 2022 [x]