#yes those are gum wrappers

[silliest-dude]

uhhh silly Petekey art i did with Deftones lyrics

[neonjstr]

Watercolor painting i did a while ago

[thebearer]

follow me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: the bear needs a social media rebrand. sydney hired you, and carmen gets more than just followers after meeting you.

an: bad descript i'm sorry lol. basically you're a social media manager and carmen likes you lol or how you and carmen meet <3 also thinking this will be a part 1???? lmk if you want a part 2!!!

contains: reader is a social media manager. language. carmen denying himself happiness ofc. mentions of mikey. fluff, fluff, fluff!!!

“What the hell is this?” Sydney’s voice raised, brow raised even higher to heighten her suspicions. Maybe her disgust. 

After Carmen looked at the snarl on her face, he decided it was definitely disgust. 

“What?” Carmen shrugged, looking at the screen in front of him. “It’s the, uh, The Beef’s old Instagram.” 

“Right.” Sydney said slowly, blinking at Carmen obviously. “The Beef, and we are not that anymore. We are The Bear.” She scrolled for a moment. “They also haven’t posted since twenty-twenty, which is-” 

“-Well, Mikey ran it, alright?” Carmen huffed, glaring at Sydney with annoyance. “I just found the fuckin’ password on a fucking gum wrapper in a folder labeled ‘important shit’ so I don’t know what to tell you.” 

Sydney nodded slowly, looking back at the phone, before sighing deeply. “I know what you should do.” She said, typing on her phone. Carmen grunted, still looking at the piles of order forms for produce in front of him. “You need a social media manager, because Carm, this? It's not gonna work.” 

“Social media what?” Carmen’s brows creased, shaking his head. “I don’t- no, I don’t need to do that. I’ll just, I’ll get Gary or fuckin’ Sweeps or Fak to run-”

“No, no, Carmen, seriously? Look at this. There’s- oh my God- there’s a thing here that says bring your own plate and you’ll get a free drink, Carmen… What the fuck?” Sydney sighed, shaking her head at him. 

Carmen nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I-I’m thinking that was a, uh, a Mikey special.” He muttered, pinching his eyes shut. “I can’t afford to hire someone on the payroll for that long, ok? Not when I could hire another hostess or-or a runner.” 

“They only come in to revamp and get it started. Just a little kick start for now. To get us started.” Sydney explained, clicking on her screen. “Look, I have a mutual friend with this girl who’s really fuckin’ good, ok? She did Lobo’s that pizza place? Got them from two hundred to eighteen thousand followers in like two or three months.” 

Carmen’s eyes flashed, looking at Sydney with a raised brow. “Seriously? Fuck…” Carmen looked at the screen, the crisp photos, videos, fun and trendy- vibrant and alluring. He hated to admit it, but it was good. 

“Look, Carm, it’s free advertising, ok? You catch the influencers if it goes viral. Could really put this place out there.” Sydney countered. “It’d be a lot cheaper than paying for some shitty advertisement on the news that no one watches anyways. Could bring in a lot of business and attention.” 

Carmen’s fingers drummed against the counter, sighing sharply. “Fine, whatever, see if you can get her in and just… Just tell me how much I need to put aside, alright? I’ll push the new glasses until then.” 

Sydney smiled triumphantly, nodding at Carmen. “Yes, Chef.” She saluted, walking out of the office. 

Three days later, you were standing outside of The Bear, newly opened, freshly renovated, and steady but not booming. “Uh, excuse me?” You waved through the window at the man in the beanie, looking at you carefully. 

“Hey, we’re closed until dinner, alright? But you can-” 

“Oh, no. I, uh, I’m not here for eating.” You cringed, shaking your head. “I’m looking for Sydney? Or Carmen? I’m the new social media person?” 

“Social media?” The man repeated, pushing the door open further. “Oh, shit! You’re the girl who does the, uh, Lobo and Avec!” 

“Yeah, I am.” You blushed, walking into the restaurant. 

“I love watching those reels of the asmr cutting the bread. Ugh, I watch it every night before going to bed.” The guy laughed, locking the door behind you. “Oh, I’m Marcus by the way.” 

You took his extended hand, introducing yourself, while you took in the fixtures on the wall, the art, the overall ambiance. “I am going to get Carmen, but you can stay right here if you want.” Marcus grinned, pushing the sliding doors open. 

You set your things down, pulling out your notebook, and looking around the restaurant. You knew that this was once The Beef, Sydney had sent you a few things about Carmen’s credentials and you looked up the rest. Impressed was an understatement, a guy your age that had ran the best restaurant in the world? Quite possibly was the best chef in the world or at least Chicago and needed your help? You were nervous, to say the least. 

Marcus called your name, making you jump slightly as you turned around. “Uh, so this is Carmen. He’s the owner, the head chef.” 

“Hi,” You were met with piercing blue eyes, hidden under a stray blonde lock of hair. Carmen’s hand reached for yours. “Nice to meet you. Sydney, uh, she couldn’t stop tellin’ me about your work. Thank you for helpin’ us out.” 

“No, no, thank you.” You reached for his hand, strong, a little rough, trying not to stare at his inked fingers. “It’s a pleasure to work with you. She told me a little about you, about the restaurant. It’s very impressive. Surprised you needed me.” You grinned. 

Carmen bit back a smile, looking down to hide his blush. Fuck, Sydney said you were good at your job, she failed to mention that you were so fuckin’ pretty too. Carmen could feel his heart fluttering in his chest, taking flight like he was a middle schooler again with a school yard crush. 

“So, if you have time, I want to go over some goals with you?” You say, gripping your notebook tightly. 

“Goals. Right, uh,” Carmen looked through the back doors. “Sydney is on her break, and-and my sister, Sugar- well, her name is Natalie, she’s like our manager. Richie too, uh, shit- I’m sorry that’s a lot of people, I know.” Carmen shook his head, an anxious laugh pealing out from his lips. “Those are the people you need to talk to, basically. I can grab them, just-” 

“-But you’re the owner, right?” You asked, lifting a brow gently. 

“No, I mean, yeah, I am.” Carmen stuttered. 

“Then I need to talk to you, too.” You gave him a small smile. “I mean, you know this place better than anyone, right? All the ins and outs? And from what Sydney told me, you redid this entire place. Right?” 

“Yeah, I did.” Carmen nodded. Fuck, he kept staring at your lips, he didn’t mean to, he was just… he was distracted. 

“So, we can all meet if you want, or I can do it one at a time.” You pulled your pen out of your notebook, looking at him with a gentle smile. It had Carmen’s heart racing. “I just have a few questions about the vision.” 

“The vision?” Carmen repeated, swallowing around the growing lump in his throat. 

“Yeah, the vision.” You smiled. “Just… tell me about this place. Tell me about you.” You slid into the chair across from him. 

Carmen wiped his hands on his pants, turning to look at the doors, hoping someone would come to his rescue. He wasn’t good at talking, especially not to pretty girls, especially about himself. Still, he couldn’t leave you sitting there. He’d hired you after all, and you were here to help him. So he sat down across from you, hoping you didn’t see the way his knee bounced under the table, hoping you couldn’t hear how his heart pounded. 

“So, Carmen Berzatto,” You grinned, every syllable of his name rolling off your tongue so sweetly, Carmen was sure he was going to faint. “Tell me about The Bear. Why did you start it?”

“Well, it was The Beef before. And-And my parents owned it, then my brother Mikey did…” Carmen started, watching the way you scribbled, eyes flickering to him with a small smile.

“Hello!” You called, pushing through the back door. They’d given you the code a week ago, so you didn’t have to wait or pound on the front door until someone took mercy and let you in. “It’s content day!” You sang, cheery and bright. 

Carmen could hear the pretty trill of your voice, trickling down the hall and into the kitchen. Tina smirked, watching the way he stopped, turning to look at you, blush rising under his white shirt. “Hey, Jeff,” Tina smirked, his head snapping to her. “Your girl’s here.” 

The staff had been teasing Carmen relentlessly about how smitten he was with you. Something he’d been so reluctant to do, he now looked forward to. Carmen swore it was because of your work. You had taken them from the measly six hundred followers they’d had since they started the account in twenty-eleven to six thousand, strategic posts and tags and tagging a few buzz accounts that were Chicago foodies. Business had gone up, reservations filling slowly. Followers poured in from TikTok, from the reels, from the posts. One tag from a micro Chicago influencer had brought in a good chunk and was still, all because of a photo with the pretty light features and the dessert. 

“Where’s the Bear?” You grinned, passing Sydney, camera in hand, bag slung over your shoulder. You pushed open Carmen’s office, dropping your bag in there. He’d told you that you could keep your things in there, since you didn’t have a locker, of course- and not at all because that meant he’d see you before you left. 

“He’s in here, baby!” Tina called, smirking at Carmen. 

“C’mon,” Carmen shook his head, a deep breath to keep him from looking so flushed. It worked for a moment, of course, until you rounded the corner. All bright smiles and fuck, you smelled so good. Camren wanted to drown himself in your perfume. “Good morning, Bear.” You beamed. 

Carmen grinned, cheeks heating with every step you took forward. “Mornin’.” He muttered, looking at the clock. 

“It’s content day.” You grinned, shaking your camera lightly. “Tell me you got something good for me, Chef. What's the special this week?” 

“A lamb tenderloin with a gorgonzola sauce served over pasta- house made, of course.” Carmen answered. 

“Of course.” You repeated with a tiny grin. You turned on your camera, taking a test shot, before you looked at Carmen carefully. “Ready whenever you are, Chef.” 

Carmen bit back his own grin, clearing his throat lightly. “How do I start it? The same as last time?” 

“Yep.” You nodded, pressing the camera to your eyes. “Tell me your name, name of the restaurant, and then just this week's special.” 

“On your mark.” Carmen nodded, picking up his clean utensil. 

“On yours.” You laughed. “I’m already recording.” 

Carmen spoke to the camera easily, trying to stay trained on the lens and not at you. How you’d grin and nod encouragingly at him, zooming in closer as he chopped, seasoned, pulled the already prepared and finished product out of the oven. 

Richie crossed his arms, leaning against the wall next to Sugar, lips pursed knowingly. “I know you’re thinkin’ the same shit as me.” 

Sugar hummed. “That Carmen’s into her?” 

“Way fuckin’ into her.” Richie grinned, watching as Carmen blushed, grinning back at you, genuine and a little shy at your compliment. 

“Fifty bucks says he doesn’t make a move.” Sugar looked at Richie. 

Richie snorted, scoffing with a shake of his head. “Alright. I’ll take your bet. I say he does.” 

“Get ready to be out of fifty dollars, Cousin.” Sugar said smugly. “This is Carmy we’re talking about. Not Mikey. Carmen’s not gonna make a move on her.” 

“Eh, not so quick, my dear, Natalie. Carmen’s changed a little since this place.” Since the horrendous freezer incident with Claire. “He really likes her too, look at ‘em.” Richie nodded, watching as Carmen held the spoon out for you, blushing when your hand touched his to take it, groaning before smothering him in compliments. Tina looked at Richie, amused and grinning from across the room. 

“Carmen will seal the deal. It’ll be last fuckin’ minute and it will be a mess, because it’s fuckin’ Carmen, but… I believe in him.” Richie nodded. 

Natalie snorted. “I genuinely hope you’re right, Cousin.” She looked at Carmen with a small smile, watching the way he looked at you, eyes cutting like he was being so cool about keeping his feelings underwraps. “I really do.” 

That night, Carmen lied in bed, scrolling through his footage from the day, seeing the video pop up from @/thebearchicago. Set to classical music, snobby and dramatic, the cuts, Carmen’s voice laid over describing the meal for the week, and a particularly good close up of his hands cutting the onions fiercely. Carmen was shocked to see the number of likes… the number of comments flooding in. 

“the cameraman knew exactly what they were doing lmao”

“New necklace available!!!” 

“I will give you my vital organs and let you chop them up like that if you let me watch chef please” 

“What the fuck?” Carmen snorted lightly, shaking his head, scrolling through the comments. He clicked to the main page of the restaurant, seeing you were just a few away from ten thousand followers. Fuck… Sydney was fucking right. You were good. 

Carmen’s face fell, mind racing and screaming with the reminder that you were only there for a few more days. He’d only hired your for two months- two glorious fucking months. You seemed… permanent now. Like he couldn’t imagine you not coming in on Tuesdays and Thursdays and after three on Fridays. You were a staple there. The staff loved you, you were good, and-

And Carmen really liked you. Liked having you around. Looked forward to talking to you. To get the chance to lean over your shoulder as an excuse to touch you when you showed him a preview of a post. Or when you’d send him cute text messages, a funny comment attached, your text reading: “you’re a hit, bear! they love you!” 

It was like you could read his mind, your contact flashing across the screen at him. 

To: Carmen 

‘told you this would be a good one! the fans love you berzatto!!!’ 

Carmen grinned, the faint twinge of a blush on his face. He could feel his heart racing, fingers dancing over the keyboard, and worst of all- he could hear Mikey’s fucking voice in the back of his head. A nagging tone repeating over and over and over, “Let it rip, Bear! Don’t be such a pussy! Ask her out!” 

Carmen looked at his screen, fingers typing out the message, a short, less than smooth invite to make you a special thank you dinner and his place- a date. He hoped you picked up on it. Heat hammering in his chest, he could feel his chest tighten, ribs knitting together uncomfortably, stomach twisting in the worst way. 

So, Carmen did what he always did. 

From: Carmen 

‘Never doubted you. Thank you. The video was great.’ 

He watched as the blue sent, the delivered turning into seen, and followed by your thumbs up over the text. Carmen put his phone on the table, lying back on his pillow, but he couldn’t sleep. His stomach still turned, unsettled with regret. 

“Oh! Marcus stop!” You gasped, Carmen’s head turning at the sound of your voice. “You didn’t need to do all of this!” 

“Yeah, I did.” Marcus beamed. Carmen turned the corner, seeing a beautifully piped cake there, candles and icing cursive that read “thank you!” in the middle of the buttercream. “You’re cool and you got us on the map, girl. Plus, we’re gonna miss you.” 

“Yeah,” Sydney nodded, holding a small balloon that said that exact phrase on it. “We will miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you guys.” You grinned, hugging them both tightly. “This has been my favorite job so far. You guys have been so nice. Way nicer than a lot of these assholes around here.” You grinned. 

Richie stood on the wall, foot tapping, eyes darting back from you to Carmen. He could see his cousin’s stuttering movements, hesitant and careful, before retreating back into himself. C’mon, Carm, fuckin’ do it, Richie thought, shaking his head. Carmen wouldn’t though, wouldn’t let himself be happy. Richie took a deep breath, head shaking with annoyance. 

“Goddammit, Berzatto,” Richie muttered, pushing off the wall. “You know, sweetheart, it’s been so great having you. Seriously, you blew us all away.” Richie said, walking towards you. 

You smiled. “Thanks, Richie. I really appreciate it.” 

“And you know what, we want to really show how much we appreciate you.” Richie’s eyes cut to Natalie, a silent plea to help him out. “I had a cancellation for this evening, and I would love for you to come instead. Let us really cook for you, give you the whole experience. No bill, of course. All on the house, for you, my dear.” 

“Oh, I-I couldn’t let you guys do that.” You shook your head politely, eyes cutting to Carmen’s. 

“No-No, please.” Carmen nodded, finally speaking. Richie sighed silently in relief. “It would be great actually. Please?” 

You felt your heart melt, nodding softly. Before you could even reply, Richie was stepping up again. “And you know what? You gotta do one last post for us, right? The big chef spotlight one. The, uh, c’mon, Sydney what am I lookin’ for here?” 

“Oh, the one about the staff spotlights?” Sydney asked. 

“That’s the one. See, that’s it. And you’ve done everyone except the big boss.” Richie pointed at Carmen, ignoring the way the younger man’s face fell. 

“I didn’t get one-” Fak started, Richie shoving him out of the way. 

“You gotta end with Carmy, and it's funny because it’s gonna be real slow tonight anyways. Wednesday, ya know? And I think what better way to experience the night, really craft that staff spotlight thing, than with Carmen. The two of you, have dinner and get to talk.” Richie knew it was rocky, not at all smooth, but it was the best he could do. 

“What? Cousin, what are you-” 

“-No, you’re right, Richie.” Sugar added, stepping towards Carmen, and cutting him off. “And Carm, you were saying you wanted to see everything in action for yourself. You do the customer experience so you make sure everything’s good, and we’ll serve you both dinner. All the stops.” 

“How’s that sound?” Richie clapped his hands together, nodding at Tina, who grinned. 

“Jeff, it would be really nice to make sure we can work without your instructions. A good night for it too.” Tina added. 

“Yeah, and Sydney’s got it.” Richie nudged the girl beside him. 

“Totally, Carm- uh, Chef. I’ve got it.” Sydney nodded, catching on to Richie’s glare at her. 

Carmen felt like he could melt into the floor, face red and palms sweaty. His ears were ringing, tongue swelled thick in his mouth. You looked over at him with a small smile. “I mean, that does sound really nice. If-If it’s ok with you guys, you don’t have to-” 

“-Oh no,” Richie shook his head, walking over to Carmen to clap him on the shoulders. “We insist, don’t we, cousin?” Richie laughed, leaning down to Carmen. “Don’t fuckin’ stand there like a jagoff, say somethin’.” He whispered. 

“Yeah.” Carmen said, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. “It’s, uh, yeah. That-That sounds great.” 

“Wonderful.” Richie beamed. “Six o’clock sounds good for you kids? Give you enough time to get it together.” Richie looked from you to Carmen. “Maybe for some of us to take a shower.” 

Carmen could feel the heat rise from his neck to his cheeks, covering him in a furious blush. You giggled. “Definitely gives me time to get a blow out.” You laugh. “See you at six then?” 

“It’s a date.” Natalie added, practically bouncing on her toes behind Carmen. 

Carmen glared at her, before turning back to you. “Yeah, I-I’ll see you then.” 

[trashmouth-richie]

masterlist

eddie x fem reader

chapter summary: how sweet it is, to be loved.

series summary: You were desperate for a roommate after Nancy got married and moved out. An ad in the paper goes unanswered until someone comes knocking on the door.

special thanks: to anyone and everyone who read a single chapter or kept up with this series to the end, thank you so much- this story wouldn’t be possible without your support.

author’s note: I can’t believe this is the final chapter for this series, I’m feeling so many emotions right now but mostly just love for Eddie and Tooty and everything in between. Thank you to anyone who has helped me beta ( @sweetsweetjellybean especially!)this story or fan girled with me over upcoming chapters. To any of the very talented artists who have made any art for this series, thank you so very much, each and every piece holds such a special place in my heart. To anyone who is mentioned in this story, thank you so so much, @loveshotzz @chechelia @carolmunson @mopeymopeymouse and everyone else— thank you for allowing me to include you in this series. To everyone who has liked, rb’d left a comment or interacted in any way with this series— THANK YOU. This series has brought such joy & heartache to me, and I’m so lucky to have people enjoy it. 🖤

Cereal

Hotdogs

Bananas

Jelly —grape, not strawberry

Bread

Crackers 

Toothpaste 

Noodles 

Chicken thighs— babe are you making fun of me?

Heartburn medicine

You tap the chewed cap of your pen along the lined paper of a scribble heavy grocery list. Desperately wishing you had x-ray vision to see inside your cabinets and remember what you were in need of, you chew the cap again.

Giggling to yourself every so often at Eddie’s notes on the grocery list. Crossing off items he thought weren’t needed, mostly vegetables he didn’t like. And always making sure you got his favorites. And not, “that healthy bullshit cereal, give me sugar or kill me babe, I will not eat Raisin Bran” 

Peanut butter 

Sunny D

Thyme 

Heavy cream

Basil

Carrots

Onions

Chicken stock

Hey sweetheart can you please get me some candy? I like skittles but you know I love m&ms.. and twizzlers, it’s for the shop. :) 

The lady behind the desk chirps a name again, but you are still racking your brain on what else was needed. The soup you had planned on making tonight would be perfect for the chilly weather rolling in. November was coming in like a lion, ferociously cold and temperatures already dipping below zero. 

Eddie loved your potato soup, so much that he begged you to make it after another long, grisly week at the shop. 

He loved everything you made, even your chili that he doctored up by adding sour cream and Doritos to it. Bon Appetit he would say with a smirk on his lips, a heaping bowl steaming in front of him. 

The clerk behind the desk tutted and huffed, the schedule was getting behind.  

“Tooty Munson! Is there a Tooty Munson here?”

You glance up quickly at the sound of your name, “shit,” you breathe, “here, yes,” you scramble shoving the list and pen into your purse, buried amongst the gum wrappers and a spilled container of tic-tacs. 

The receptionist clicks her papers against the formica counter and holds her nose in the air, as if this job and you were beneath her. 

“He’s ready for you now.”

—-

“…alright, Ed, did ya look o’er those applications yet? ‘Tween you D and Mike I don’t think we are going to be able to keep up everything that we got on the schedule.” 

Wayne’s eyebrows are raised as he looks over the bifocals perched on his nose. He had been scouring over the schedules and the books for the better half of the afternoon since lunch hour—trying to figure out how to swing their overloaded schedule. 

It wasn’t that they couldn’t do the work, they were simply short handed. After Boom closed his doors  in Hawkins, he had recommended to his regulars that they travel to Bridgeport to Master Mechanics to see Eddie and Wayne. Business was booming, and the Munson’s could barely keep up.

Early on, Wayne and Eddie decided they would only be open until noon on Saturday’s but now with the packed schedule, they worked til almost dark every night of the week, including some Sundays.

Wayne rubs his short nails through his scratchy mostly white scruff, “we can’t have these boys workin’ like this, they’ll quit on us before you can slap a tick.”

Eddie was leaning against the doorway, a bottle of Coca Cola held limp in his hand, a greasy rag stuffed in his back pocket. 

“Yeah,” he yawns, stretching out his back, “let’s hire ‘em all, we need the extra hands, or I’m gonna need an extra back.”

Wayne grunts in confirmation. The highlighter squeaks as it’s drug across the phone numbers on the applications, “I’ll call ‘em first thing in the morning,” he straightens up his desk and shoves the papers into a drawer. 

His glasses clink as he folds them up and lays them next to a picture of the newlywed Munson’s. He leans back in his chair, the leather crinkling beneath his worn coveralls, “I’m callin’ it for the day,” he exhaled, staring up at the ceiling, “it’s been one helluva week and I’m shot, tell the boys to go home to their wives.” 

“and you too,” he points, “go take care of your wife, Ed, tell her I hope she starts to feelin’ better.” 

Eddie’s curls bounce as he nods his head, completely drained from the week, shit maybe he was getting sick too? “she went to the doctor today, probably just the flu, Max told her it was going around.” 

“Well then,” Wayne says, standing up and clicking off the table lamp, “take tomorrow off and rest–

both of ya, hear me?” 

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” 

—

Eddie’s tires crunch on the ice and hard packed snow of the driveway, a silent serenity, meaning he is only moments away from holding you in his arms, seconds away from kissing your lips, and if he was lucky, minutes from eating something delicious to fill his grumbling stomach. 

He throws the truck into neutral, killing the engine and tossing the keys around his finger. Tracks from your Jeep tires lead into the garage he had built last spring. A huge project that your friends were paid in beer and a bonfire when it was all finished. 

Thrusting his sore hands into his canvas coat, he ducked his chin into the zipper and braved the asthma inducing gust of wind to the front door as it whipped through his curls. 

The house was oddly quiet, only the hum of the refrigerator making any sort of sound. Usually when he came home you’d be playing the radio, or talking on the phone to Max or Nancy, greeting him with a pop of your head around the wall in the kitchen or from the hallway, the prettiest smile put on your lips. 

“Princess?” he called out in endearment as he untied his boots and put them on the shoe rack. His coatwas already hanging on its hook, usually next to your purse but your purse was thrown onto the arm chair, and your shoes were in the hallway like you had walked right out of them. 

He undid the buttons of his work blues, letting them hang at his waist like a mechanic cape. Socked feet trudge down the carpeted hallway, you must not be feeling any better, probably too exhausted to make it out of bed.

But Eddie was wrong.

You were perched on top of the comforter, coat still on but unzipped staring at the door waiting for his arrival, fuzzy socks on your wiggling toes. 

“Hey, handsome,” you said, trying to keep your pitch even. 

“There’s my girl,” his velvet voice wrapping around you like a hug as he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for your left hand and kissing the finger that adorned the prettiest ring he’d ever bought, “how’s my beautiful wife?” 

It had been five months since you said I do. A June wedding in your own backyard, filled with friends who had served as family for years, gathered by your sides. 

“I forgot the potatoes,” you say blankly, a weird little smile on your face. 

Eddie sits down next to you, rubbing your thigh back and forth and letting out an exhausted yawn, “That’s alright, I can make us some grilled cheese if you’re up for—”

“I was looking at my grocery list, and couldn’t remember what I’d forgot.”

Eddie’s confused, but wants to reassure you that its no big deal, he’s a grown man he can certainly make supper for himself and his wife. “Sweetheart it’s okay, don’t beat yours—“

“Can’t make potato soup without potatoes.” And this time you laugh, kind of whimsically and in disbelief. 

His brows turn inward, still he just keeps reassuring you that everything is fine, “It’s okay Tooty, seriously. Let me go make you some—”

And for the third time tonight, you interrupted him, “doctor said that’s normal.”

He’s exhausted and is honestly more confused than he would like to admit, “what? The flu?” 

“No, no. “ you say, a twisted little smirk on your face, “forgetting things, throwing up in the morning, being exhausted… totally normal.” 

“Babe?” He moves to touch the back of his hand to your head, wincing when he realizes that he’s probably freezing.

“I was so scared the last time,” you whisper, teary eyed, “terrified.. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but now—.”

Eddie reaches for your cheeks, holding them softly, his eyes searching yours, desperate to figure out what the hell is going on, “what am I missing here? It’s normal to have… the flu?” 

“No, it’s not the flu,” you finally admit, looking up at him and rubbing the back of his hands with your thumbs, 

“Eddie, I’m pregnant.”

— 

You could fill an empty pool up from the tears that sprung from Eddie’s eyes that night. He was overjoyed, holding you tight while he wept into your hair. Kissing your belly and whispering to the baby. Small streaks of tears flowing down your swollen skin and the faded scar across your lower belly. 

Each month that ticked by, Eddie’s worry only doubled. 

The day after you had found out, he woke early. Watching as your chest rose and fell as you slept soundly in the original mock up of his hellfire shirt.

It was threadbare, cotton worn so thin it was practically see through— but you claimed it as your own back in the early days of your new relationship, hands on your hips and the infamous pout on your lip as you playfully argued with him about how it was now yours. 

Dusk painted the diamond covered ground from the fresh snow over night. Falling as delicately as his lips allover your skin. Soaking up the dainty noises from your throat when he carefully slid into you, tears spilling from both of your eyelashes, love filling the room more sweetly than it ever had before. 

The soft cotton of the blankets hugged your curves, and he exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he gazed down at his beautiful— now pregnant— wife. 

His sweet Tooty, carrying a gift more precious than gold. 

Kissing your cheek—he dressed quietly, scribbling a note on the bedside table about going into town for a bit, but to just relax in bed until he got home. 

-

You were having a dreamless sleep, not even sugarplums could dance in your head with the overwhelming exhaustion that your body was trying desperately to catch up from. 

Something cold then silky smooth brushed against your cheek, and a velvet voice sang a little good morning greeting into your ear. Your loving husband. Pressing sweet angel kisses behind your ear and on your eyelids. 

Your bedroom was lit with the glow of a warm sun in the afternoon light. Playing a yellowed hue of warmth across your comforter, pulling the caramel color from Eddie’s curls and making his eyes look like a dreamy cup of coffee swirling with creamer. 

His lips hug yours, both smiling into one another. Heart swelling more than your toes would in the months to come. 

C’mon, got a surprise for you, princess. 

The spare bedroom that was once a room for band equipment, then Max’s bedroom for almost a year before she eventually moved in with Gareth and Will, now held storage, was completely organized, and held a wide array of items. 

A crib, brand new and still in the box, a pack n play, a swing, every box of diapers ranging from size 1 - 5, baby gates, outlet covers, fancy locks for cabinets and drawers, rubber bumpers for sharp corners and edges of tables. 

A bookshelf full of baby books, how to’s for new parents, nursery rhymes by mother goose, books suggesting baby names and their meanings, and a guide on how to quit smoking. 

Tucked into the corner of the room by the bookshelf and near the window, was a rocking chair. 

 “Eddie,” you gasp, running sleep from your eyes, “wh-what is all of this?” 

He’s smiling ear to ear, trying to curb his enthusiasm a tiny bit. “I might have gotten a little carried away.” 

Turning towards the shelf you see a plastic sack, full of candy and bubble gum, and mints. “Edward Joseph Munson.” 

“Don’t scold me, mama,” he jokes, grabbing onto your hips and kissing your hairline, “I’m just spoiling our baby.”

God you loved this man, he’d break his neck to give you the world. He was the most loving husband, and now you got to see him step into a new role. One completely foreign to you both, only have shared the idea for a few moments before it was ripped away. 

You lean into him, holding him tight and working your nose into the crook of his neck. “You’re gonna be the best dad, Eddie.”

He doesn’t hide the tear that slips down his cheek, just lets it slide and collect under his chin, his voice is quiet when he asks, “you really think so?”

“I know it.”

—

Wayne and Karen followed behind the new family in his pickup all the way home from the hospital. They were going to stay for a few days, help you both get adjusted to life as parents.

Karen and Nancy had filled your freezer with casseroles, soups and fresh bread. It was a hot July day when you were scheduled for the c section, and when it was all said and done four days in the hospital was more than enough and you were ready to be at home, snuggled up with your new family. 

It was a battle of which Munson man could shed the most tears. Eddie and Wayne were both wiping away tears for hours. Overjoyed with emotions that everyone was healthy. 

“No you don’t,” Wayne said as you reached for the back door to grab the diaper bag, “you go right inside and get comfy, get them legs up!”

You do as your told, leaving Wayne, Eddie and Karen to carry the load in. The hospital stay was overwhelmingly sweet, but you knew Eddie was itching to get back to normalcy, still not liking the way he felt cooped up in the hospital even though it had been years since you both had the horrifying visit. 

Bags and suitcases are carried in and set into your master bedroom to be unpacked later, bottles and diapers are stacked and put into their respectable places. Karen starts warming up the chicken casserole she had prepared earlier that day. Wayne fussed around with the new dishwasher that he and Eddie had installed the month prior. 

Throughout the commotion you had fallen asleep, legs propped up in the recliner, but you woke to the sound of the front door closing, and there he was.

Eddie was holding them both, large hands cocooned around their swaddled little bodies, crooked into each of his arms. Something he was nervous about but slowly getting the hang of, the nurses told him he was a natural, and Wayne wept into Karen’s shoulder when Eddie introduced the twins to their grandpa. 

His normal obnoxious voice was murmuring low and quiet like a soft lullaby so as not to stir awake the sleeping little babies. 

He looked at them both, adoration and tears springing into his eyes. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. How he could have helped make something so small and delicate, he wouldn’t understand. But, he didn’t need to. 

A boy, born first— with his dark eyes and brown hair, and later the little girl, almost identical to his Tooty, and just as stubborn, both already wrapped around his fingers.

He murmured their names, and caught your eye as he said it, a smile so wide on his face that you were sure new dimples would bust through his cheeks, and you only heard the end of what he was saying. 

If you would have told yourself five years ago that you would one day own a home, get married to and have twins with Eddie Munson, you would have laughed on the spot. That loud mouth jackass of a guy you had once regretted letting move into your home, had moved right into your heart and never left. 

The demons inside you both were finally at bay, finding solace in one another in more ways than you had thought possible. Being loved by Eddie was everything you had thought love should be like. 

And you pinch yourself to make sure it's real, and each and every time, it is. 

“…babies,” he says, a smile on his lips and tears in his eyes as he looks over at you, his family, “we’re home.” 

The end

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[irisintheafterglow]

End Game #6 (volleyball captain!gojo x you)

summary: the tokyo teams have a beach day before Nationals prelims.

wc: 2.25k

cw/tags: mild language, jjk volleyball au, friends to lovers, fluff and crack and crack and fluff, gender neutral reader, suguru doesn't know how to cut a watermelon

note: SURPRISE beach ep? beach ep BUT with a little treat at the end <3 reader is implied to have played when they were younger but stopped before high school. hope you like it!

likes/reblogs/feedback are appreciated!

“Megs, did you bring sunscreen?”

“What are you, my dad?” 

“Megumi.” You give him a pointed look through the rearview mirror and he frowns. 

“Yes, I did.” Your eyes return to the road and you press down the buttons to open the windows. Salty wind blows past your face as you carefully descend the winding hills down to the beach, one hand on the wheel and the other blowing carefreely on the window frame. You feel oddly peaceful despite the boys arguing in your car.

Satoru whips around in the passenger’s seat, looking thoroughly offended. You insisted on driving down the steep slope because he’d inevitably become a safety hazard when insulted by either one of the kids in the second row. “You’ll answer to them but not to me?”

“Yep.” You make a little noise of amusement in your throat when Satoru’s indignant voice overpowers the music he was playing from his phone, despite your speakers being worked to their limit. 

“I’m your captain!” He looks at you for help and your palm lightly meets the side of his face, diverting his attention to Yuuji for reassurance. Lightning blue eyes stare at Yuuji expectantly through the dark rims of his sunglasses. 

“You definitely are, uh, sir…” Yuuji’s voice comes out as a nervous stutter and you bite back your laughter while you pull into the parking lot. 

“Only when we’re indoors,” Megumi deadpans with a blank face. He unlocks the car door, reaching for the handle and flashing his captain a cynical smile. “Thankfully,” he finishes before exiting the vehicle followed by a very apologetic Yuuji on the other side. 

He sighs, exasperated. “They’re really something else, aren’t they?” He glances at you as you adjust your sunglasses in the rearview mirror and fish around the center console for your sunscreen stick. 

“Mhmm,” you reply absentmindedly, still intently looking for the little rectangle in the mess of napkins and gum wrappers. You huff, a bit irritated by losing something so small. “Satoru, have you seen my–”

“This?” Slender fingers hold the wave-covered stick out to you and your eyebrows dip in confusion as you take it and apply it to your face. “You told me to hold it so it didn’t melt, remember? Before you accuse me, I promise I didn’t break it.” He gives you that lopsided smile that sends your heart on one of those carnival drop rides and you exhale a breathy laugh. 

“I wasn’t going to accuse you of anything, but thank you.” You finally open your door and step out into the breezy ocean air, eyes searching for the rest of the team when something clicks in your mind. “Oh, Satoru, could you–”

“Already on it,” he says as he grabs your bag from the floor of the passenger seat and slides it across the roof of the car. “You really think so lowly of me?” He ducks back into the car to retrieve one of the three volleyballs that every passenger in your car thought to bring. 

“I would never. I’m just keeping you on your toes.” You shoot him a grin and sling the tote over your shoulders as he takes his place by your side, checking the messages on his phone. “I’m assuming everyone’s here since Megs and Yuuji have quite literally evaporated.” 

“Yeah, they’re by tower three. Shoko and the girls just got there, too.” 

“Better hurry up, then, or they’re gonna eat all the food first,” you suggest and laugh at the shocked look that washes over his face as he starts to cartoonishly run forward in fake panic, lanky limbs flailing about. “That’s the wrong direction, genius!” 

You hear both teams before you see them and pinch the bridge of your nose as Suguru tries to cut open a watermelon with a plastic knife, much to the entertainment of the other players. Nanami observes with a disgusted look on his face in stark contrast to Yu’s fascinated expression beside him. Panda and Inumaki look ready to bolt away from the fruit like it’s a grenade lest Suguru makes it explode. You spot Yuuji and Kugisaki, one of Shoko’s players, trying to throw Megumi into the ocean. Relishing the warm sand brushing under your feet, you meet Suguru’s eyes with a skeptical gaze and patiently position the strap of your bag further down your arm while Satoru helps you find the actual knife. 

“What took you two so long?” The vice-captain scowls, taking the knife from Satoru with a determined glint in his eye. “Gimme that. I’m gonna beat the shit out of this God-forsaken fruit.”

"It's just a watermelon, Suguru. Just stab it."

"I'm gonna stab you if you don't shut up."

Shoko appears at your side, soda in hand and bumping her bikini-clad hip against yours. “He’s been working on that for ten minutes. For such a dangerous team, they really share one brain cell, huh?” You chuckle and nod in agreement, following her down the table with the rest of the food and chucking items on your paper plate. “This is a nice little party you’ve got going here, though it would be better with some stronger drinks,” she remarks, winking at you knowingly and allowing you to connect the dots of her pregame before she came. She wordlessly holds your food while you spread out your things. 

“As long as you’re not driving anyone, including yourself.” You point at her with a cautionary finger and settle next to her on your towel under an umbrella. “You ready for Nationals prelims?” She replies with her signature indifferent shrug, stretching out in the sand. “That bad?”

“Meh. We’ll win like we always do. The new girl, Nobara, is pretty good. I’m sure it’ll be fun.” Her voice trails off and you take the first sip of your drink when a manically excited energy seizes her body; she shoots upward like a vampire in a casket. You stare at her, a little put off by her sudden show of urgency, and her eyes widen mischievously. “We’re doing a match against the boys later, first to 25. You’re playing.” The liquid of the drink catches in your throat and you cough, covering your mouth in embarrassment as Shoko smirks at your shock. You blink back tears that watered while you were choking and eye her nervously. 

“I’m absolutely not.”

“You absolutely are.” You groan in protest and she clicks her tongue. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. We’re making Ijichi play on the boys’ side so it’s only fair.” Your face scrunches in reluctance and she scoffs at your hesitancy. “You’ll be fine; I wasn’t lying when I said you could’ve been captain if you didn’t have such bad commitment issues. Besides, what are you gonna do with all that intensive training just sitting around in your head?” 

You exhale deeply in surrender. She had a point. “You are an evil, evil woman.” 

“Yeah, you love me.” 

After a few more hours of eating watermelon triumphantly defeated by Suguru and watching Yuuji teach Yuta to do a backflip, Shoko eventually calls for both teams to line up on either side of the sandy court as the sun begins its descent below the skyline. You begrudgingly shed your cover-up, leaving you in just your swimsuit and sunglasses. Satoru finds you somewhere between the start of the game and changing your clothes. 

“I have an idea,” he drawls, hands in the pockets of his trunks. You bend down, stepping out of your shorts and you catch him clearing his throat behind you. For what reason, you had no idea. 

“Uh-oh,” you tease over your shoulder, stretching your neck and arms with him still at your back. “That’s never a good thing.”

“Mean.” He clears his throat again like he was trying to expel something from it. 

“I know you’re going to tell me anyway, so go on, after you’re done hacking.” You turn to face him and are surprised to see his face slightly pink, voice shaky like he was anxious despite trying to play it off with a smile. 

“Whoever wins gets to throw the loser in the water.” 

“If you want to go swimming, you could just say so.” 

“That’s a little cocky for someone who hasn’t played a match since the Dark Ages.” You narrow your eyes and fight the butterflies fluttering in your stomach when he steps closer, toned muscle barely covered by his unbuttoned shirt. “So, what do you say?”

“You’re on, honored one.” 

A cruelly humorous twist by Fate has you optimistic that you’ll win the bet. 

The power goes straight to your head as your tongue swipes across your lips absentmindedly in concentration. You’re on the receiving end of the plays you’d been studying for three years, and a decade of dormant training now rears its long-hidden head. You read the team, your team, like a book, picking up on the tells that the girls’ team didn’t think to recognize. You catch the challenge in Satoru’s bright eyes several times, his expression remaining amused as the rest of his players realize that you can, in fact, go toe-to-toe with them and win. He doesn't flinch when you receive the most powerful of Suguru’s serves, nor does he blink when you lock into place next to Nobara and deny Yuuji’s strikes. He murmurs snarky comments to you when you’re both in the front row, taking credit for your well-aged skill because of the numerous times he snuck you out of your window. All you can do when the boys voice their shock is shrug after digging Megumi’s setter dumps or Yuta’s shakiest floats, your palm meeting Shoko’s in celebration for every successful play. 

But no one is a match for the unrelenting will of Gojo Satoru.

Not even you. 

You shake your head in tired disbelief at the final score, 25-23, as the boys’ team cheers for their powerhouse captain, laughing as you catch your breath. Shoko collapses onto the sand beside you, both of you sprawled out on the ground like starfish. Even though you lost, the adrenaline makes you feel so alive and you’re grinning like an idiot at the soft pink sky. 

Shoko’s chest heaves in exhaustion and your delirious ass can’t stop giggling. “I’m not sure why I thought that would be a good idea. No one’s a match for your little boyfriend, not even us.” 

Your laughter dies off and her words stew around in your mind. Turning your head to meet her eyes, you force your brain to make coherent thoughts again. “My little…what?” 

“Don’t play coy. You know exactly who I’m talking about,” she says with finality, winking at you as her gaze flicks up to something approaching behind you.

But, before you could question her further, strong arms slide under your legs and back, lifting you off the sand with ease. You yelp in alarm and feel the vibration of Satoru’s chuckle against your shoulder as he walks you toward the crashing waves. Wiggling in his grip, you try to jump away but are prevented by the firm hold he has on your legs. Your arms wrap around his neck to give you more leverage, but turn into a way to shrink into his neck as the sea gets closer and closer. Embarrassing shrieks of terror escape your body as his feet hit wet sand, wading into the waves. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, Satoru!” You brace for impact as his body swings you forward, but no cold landing comes. You peel your eyes open slowly, and feel his laughter against your body as you realize you’d tucked yourself into his chest. You shake your head, laughing with him while he gently sets your legs down. You don’t change your position, though, with your arms wrapped around his neck and hiding beneath his chin. His hands snake around your waist and pull you close, and you swear you feel a feather-light kiss on your temple. 

You relish in the sweet intimacy of the moment before an idea pops into your head and you slyly maneuver to the side so your right calf is lined up behind his, your arms still around his neck. He barely has a second to look at you, puzzled, before you pull your leg toward you, pushing his out from under him and simultaneously throwing him forward so you both crash into the water. He cries out in surprise, splashing into the water while you untangle your arms from him. 

When you surface for air, you turn a full circle in the chest-high water only to find him completely gone. You’re about to call out his name when you scream, feeling a hand touch your leg. Suddenly, his arms are around you again and he’s shaking his hair out like a wet dog. He’s grinning from ear to ear as he looks at you with so much adoration that your heart stops. You jokingly push his face away but his body is determinedly pressed against yours, arms supporting your waist while you let your legs wrap around his torso. Your hands cup his face, allowing you to fully admire his beautifully love-struck eyes that look at you just as intensely.

Maybe it’s delirium or maybe it’s love, but when you lean down and press that first kiss to his lips, you could stay in that one moment for the rest of eternity. You didn’t really know what you were doing, but you knew you liked it. 

You knew you liked him. 

God help anyone who tried to take him from you.

[thecameronchronicles]

Roommates

TW: smut. Language. 

SUMMARY: Sexual tensions with your roommate reach a fever pitch. 

WORD COUNT: 2300

REQUESTED

Can you do one where JJ and reader are roommates, they're both sexually frustrated and get into an argument about something stupid and just end up fucking? And JJ tries being cocky with her being wet but she jerks him off and he groans and just melts in her touch

Roommates 

JJ Maybank was the world's worst roommate. Dishes left in the sink for days at a time. Laundry strewn in a parade of negligence as a path of where he was going to and from. The shameless revolving door of women he entertained calling for God less than an hour of showing up. But the worst detail was that you lusted after him since you were convinced by your co-worker, Kie, to move in with him when you were both desperate for a place to stay. 

"He's harmless, really. Just a bit of a rebel." She convinced you through the loyalty all the Pogues still had for one another well after high school. The way he even defended Kiara against a group of drunk Kooks one night when she had to work late had been the final incentive for you to agree. He was even the ideal roommate to begin with. 

But a week in, his chores and cleanliness slipped as he became comfortable in the tensions between you. Almost feeding off of them. Because of it, you made every excuse you could to be away from the apartment, only returning to be bickered at or being the source of nitpicking until one of you slammed the doors into silence. 

"JJ!" You barked from the shower, a sudden rush of icy rainfall making you shriek as you were already running late in another attempt to evade him. 

"Yes, princess? Need help getting those hard to reach places?" He was already in the bathroom, extending a towel off of his ringed fingers you were ashamed were a pivotal feature in the fantasies that came to you when he was with another girl. 

Which come to think of it, hadn't been for some time...

"Did you turn on the sink?!" The pipe system was less than desirable, the cheap rent making this a forgivable trait to your abode. 

"Did I? Must have slipped my mind..." He smirked, dimples weakening your anger, despite the fact your expression hardened. 

"Are you almost done? Some of us are responsible and need to get to work on time..." He motioned for an invisible watch nonexistent on his wrist as your glare sharpened. Stealing the towel, you cleaned the remaining shampoo out of your hair, and wrapped it around you before finding him still hovering in the doorway. 

"Seriously? Stalker much?"

"This is the first time seeing you wet for me...think I'm gonna miss it?" 

"I-you..." 

"You're so cute when you blush..." He moved past you, closing the door before you could respond. As a child in the middle of a tantrum, you stomped away into your room before coming up with an idea. 

Searching for his phone while he was distracted, you ended up learning small details about him while in his space. Gum wrappers. Condom wrappers. Of course he wears fucking magnums. You rolled your eyes before your lip was trapped between your teeth at the idea, pulling the wrapper between your fingers and resting on your heels, distracted by your thoughts. 

"Something I can help you with?" You threw the wrapper and climbed off of his bed. 

"I was cleaning up. Someone had to…" You spoke proudly despite the lack of evidence to back you up. 

"Why don't we just get this over with..." He sighed. "Yes. I'm the biggest guy you'll never have."

"Please. I wouldn't touch you or let you touch me even if you paid me..."

"You couldn't afford me." He shot back. 

"Oh, and the girls you have come here can?" You were on your feet, gripping the towel at your chest to keep it from falling as he kept his eyes to you while yours threatened to fall to his Adonis belt and beyond. 

"Seems to me you'd need to pay them to forget about it since they never come back twice."

"Personal preference. You jealous sweetheart? Maybe if you asked really nicely I could help you with your problem..." 

"My problem?"

"The fact you're dripping on my bed." He ghosted your lips before moving to his bed, leaning on his palms. 

"Damn...even down your legs. Denial makes you wet, princess..."

"I'm wet because I just got out of the shower!" 

"Whatever the reason, it’s still making you drip on my bed…"

"God you're incorrigible!" 

"And you're sexy when you're mad."

"Then I'm about to be a goddamn wet dream-"

"You said it..." His eyes were shameless. "Maybe if you admit you're jealous..."

"I'm not fucking jealous!"

"No? But you're still wet-" You matched over to him, forcing his hand beneath your towel. 

"See?!" But he immediately began to rub circles around your clit as you stood over his thigh. 

"Don't..." He warned as you tensed. He guided your hand over his shoulder as your nails began to dent his sun-kissed skin while you rode against his hand. 

"I fucking knew it. I thought I heard you get off yesterday in the bathroom...might have to always offer you a towel and maybe-" You tried to push him away to deny an inflation of his arrogance but he then shoved a finger inside of you. 

"Oh shit..." You gasped.

"There's no shame in being wet for me...it's pointless to deny it when I'm..." He slipped another finger. "Two knuckles deep in your tight little pussy, princess. And shit...you're even wetter than I hoped..." You clenched your jaw, moving back far enough until ripping his towel away and stroking him. 

"Oh fuck..." 

But something you weren't expecting came in the connection. As his eyes widened and he relaxed back on his palms, he melted against you. It was almost beautiful how he was reacting to you and the power you got from it was enough to make you truly drip down your own thighs. 

"Fuck, just like that..." You quickened and twisted his cock in percent tugs as his breathing slowly began to become affected. 

"I haven't been able to fucking come since hearing you use that vibrator-" You blushed at the memory of him walking in on you when you believed you were alone. You thought you'd convinced him by saying it was a massager for a pulled muscle in your thigh, but now you were grateful he knew the truth. 

But that was months ago. Months without another woman. Rewarded now. 

"You hard for me, JJ?" 

"Rock fucking solid, princess...Jesus..." You pumped harder as he groaned. Delicious growls and even whimpers when your thumb brushed his tip. Precum taken behind your pouty lips.

"Shit!" He convulsed as you surprised him as his eyes closed. Taking him into your mouth as he watched you work him expertly. 

"Keep those eyes on me...I wanna watch you take it..." His lips parted into an unsteady O. 

"Can you take all of it? I'll fuck your throat if you can-" When he could, you submitted him to that full extent as he shot to his feet, dragging you against the wall and bowing over you as he bucked himself into your throat. 

"Yes, fuck yeah...just like that, princess...take all of it...shit!" He kept your head from being concussed by the grip on the back of your neck as you made a mess down your own chest of tears and spit. 

"Oh I'm gonna come...I'm gonna fucking come..." He was close by your allowance until you retracted. 

"Oh yeah?" He pulled you by your hair and into the bed, forcing you on your stomach and then into your palms and knees. 

"Anyone ever tell you it isn't nice to tease, princess?" You began to rasp as his fingers worked inside of you, stretching and pulling come hither motions as he smirked and laughed at your ear. 

"Fuck, your moaning alone could make me come-" You belted a response as he pulled you to his chest. Forcing your towel away and palming your breast before twisting your nipples. 

"You want my cock, huh?"

"You couldn't handle me..." He scoffed before sheathing himself inside of you, your face turned to take in his gasp. 

"Oh shit, you're tight...oh...oh fuck..." He began to bounce you like this for only a second before firing you back in all fours. 

"You like it from behind, huh?" He smacked your ass as you nodded. 

"Harder!" Another snack and a gasp prompted him deeper. 

"Fuck, turn around...you're gonna take me deeper." You weren't able to obey as much as just be pliable before he thrust into you the second you were on your back. Legs taken over his shoulders as pounded into you. A hand on the wall made you somewhat bent on a perfect precision of his cock to your g-spot. 

"Oooh that's that spot isn't it? Oh yeah, that face...yes..." He hit the wall hard. 

"Fuck...fuuuuck..." He arched his back as your eyes caught sight of the condom wrappers as you gasped. 

"JJ-"

"I'm not fucking coming in a condom...you got me this hard...I'm already this deep...I'm filling you up...to the fucking brim..." You moaned as he bent you further. "Oh fuck...say it..."

"Come inside me! Oh God! I need it! JJ!"

"Fuck! Say my name again..."

"JJ!"

"Fuck me back, baby...let me see those tits-" You reacted immediately, bouncing and thrusting until he flattened you still. 

"Here it comes...you want it inside?" You nodded desperately. "Yeah? You want my cum dripping down your legs princess?"

"Yes! JJ! Give me your cum!" 

"Yeah. Fu-FUCK!" He thrusted twice over before filling you as promised. 

"Jesus..." He set his forehead to yours before climbing out of you. Disappointment came in the remaining throb between your legs before he returned with your vibrator. 

"I've heard you get off with this thing for weeks-I was jealous...and you're gonna do it for me..."

"How did you even know where it was?"

"Just followed your scent..." You winced at the joke before he started it. 

"Oh wow...you won't last long with this will you?" The wand was strong and could make you come in under two minutes if given the right motivation. 

"You can't make me?"

"You weren't so good with your mouth, you'd be on your third...I'll make up for it later..." He lowered over you. 

"Open." He grinned to your compliance. 

"Use it. I want to know what you look like when you came all those nights I jerked off against that wall hearing you come..." 

"Oh God..." His words prompted you to pulsate it against you. His fingers pulled you wider. 

"Oh shit...yes...you're already dripping down yourself...ever made yourself squirt?" You nodded. 

"Next time will be with me..."

"Jesus, I could now..."

He held the back of your head. "Fucking show me." You began slowly, edging yourself. 

"I need to feel it..." He set two fingers into a curl. 

"Ooh it's close-"

"Yeah? Then let me have it, princess...come on...soak my fingers like you want to my cock...oh fuck...I'm throbbing again..."

"Do it!" 

"Nope. You're squirting where I can see it-"

"I wanna squirt on your cock!" 

"Well how can I say no to that?" He guided you over his lap as he kept the vibrator at your clit. 

"JJ-"

"I think I prefer when you scream my name instead of screaming at me."

"Then make me..." He rode into you, coming close to his own release as you began to clench. "Oh shit...oh my God!"

"Yeah that it?"

"Oh yeah...oh YES! JJ ! IM GONNA FUCKING-" You were unhinged, soaking him through convulsions as he kept you as handled as he could without wanting to keep you reserved. 

"Oh fuck...yeah baby, ride that cock...I'm so fucking close..." You were leaning with your palms at his legs as you took him with such power. Your hips smashing against his until he rounded you onto your back. 

"Give me one more...I can feel you fucking clenching. One more!" He ordered as he held you beneath him. 

"I might squirt again...AHHH!!!" He withdrew himself long enough to use only his fingers to get you closer to your edge.

"JJ! YES!!!" His fingers were merciless and sloppy. Raw sounds of squelching and suction interrupting your shared moans as he stroked himself to your own pleasure. When feeling you begin to convulse, he returned with a brutal slam. 

"On. My. Cock." He ordered. Stars formed behind your eyes as you arched and he buried himself to the hilt to feel every rush of cum joined between you. 

"Keep going..." You whimpered through your overstimulation until his lazy thrusts tattled his second release. 

"Shit..." He fell over you, careless to the weight across your chest. As you chuckled, he rose carefully. A devil still raging behind his eyes as he moved to your breast. His tongue circling as he nibbles it into a suction. 

"JJ...I can't..."

"It's been months...and that was the hardest I've ever fucking come in my life...I'm not done with you yet..." You shook against his fingers. 

"Give me one more and I'll do the dishes."

"And the laundry-"

He snickered. 

"I'll put you back in my mouth if you do the laundry-"

"I think we can find an arrangement..." He grinned to that countless orgasms cresting. "Oh yeah, princess...I think I'll be able to deal with this whole roommate situation..." On a laugh, you came. Faster but harder than before, setting a record he was set to beat each and every argument from here on out. 

Every argument well worth the makeup of having JJ Maybank as your roommate.

TAGLIST: @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection @jjsprettybaby @rafesmoon @maybankslover @puzziepoppin @gillybear17 @onclouds999@penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf

MASTERLIST

JJ MAYBANK MASTERLIST

JJ MAYBANK 2ND MASTERLIST

[shallowseeker]

I was just thinking about this on my drive home from work... do you think Sam, Dean or Cas ever accidentally call Jack by the wrong name when they're distracted or frazzled (like a lot of parents do)?

I personally can see Dean accidentally calling Jack "Sam" sometimes (y'know, the other kid he raised), maybe when Jack is acting exceptionally childish.

That sounds like a most excellent idea for a poll, tbh. Lol!

Critically, I don't think Sam ever calls Jack by the wrong name because he doesn't get worried or flustered enough about people in general, and he hasn't, you know, really raised anyone before. Tragically, he will accidentally call Dean Jr. "Jack" at some point, leading to a melodramatic blowup when Dean Jr. discovers that Jack was a real person.

Cas doesn't get words wrong, unless he's doing them on purpose. His nicknames for Jack are all saccharinely dated and embarrassing: "Slugger, Sport, Champ, etc."

Dean, though. Dude, yes. Headcanon accepted. Dean calls Jack "Sam" as an insult. When he's being childish or stubborn, when he's not cleaning up after himself (hello, that time Sam tossed the gum wrapper on the floor), or when he breaks something, like the time Jack and Mary accidentally put those knife gouge marks on the library floor.

Jack becomes "mini Mary" when he's eating too much or when he eats undercooked meat (steak n' eggs, bloody). Mary corrects him, "I think you mean, mini you."

In the heat of the moment, Mary goes through the whole list though: "Dean! I mean Sa-I mean Jack, heads up!"

During actual hunts, because of the AU Earth experience, she's more used to fighting with Jack, so she often calls Sam and Dean "Jack" outright. (Sam is SO offended about it.)

"Dean, uh, does she call you Jack by accident a lot, too?"

[prettyboymunson]

random eddie munson headcanons (gn!reader)

warnings? implied smut, descriptions of smoking, references to drinking and injury, hurt/comfort if u squint with a magnifying glass

ok I almost never write stuff like this but I am DOWN BAD for this man.

he’s a deep sleeper but he also thrashes around a lot

every time you sleep over you leave with at least one bruise in your shin because he accidentally kicked you in his sleep

he feels so guilty he lets you pick any of his shirts to borrow

eddie keeps a little a little jar of weed on him at all times

when he decides he’s too sober for something, he goes outside and rolls himself the worst joint you’ve ever seen out of some crumpled papers he found in his pocket and a gum wrapper or something

he doesn’t usually cough when he smokes, except for when he smokes his own joints

when he’s really in a pinch he’ll go for the classic stoner coke can pipe

he is fighting for his life

almost immediately after lighting up he’s rasping and begging you for a sip of your water because he inhaled half the weed

the sound of your laugh is almost worth it

your reaction to his voice in the morning is definitely worth it

his voice is so sexy when he wakes up, all rough and gravelly

its sexy until you realize he has wicked morning breath

after you’ve made him brush his teeth probably for the fist time in a couple of days, lets be real he comes waltzing back into his room and bellyflops into bed

sometimes you’re already up and getting dressed. he likes to watch you get dressed on these mornings

he flashes those doe eyes and lovingly asks you to pick out his outfit

on his favorite mornings, you’re still in bed when he bellyflops onto you, coming at you with his “infamous munson tickle attacks”

yes that’s what he calls it

as you squeal and writhe under him with eddie’s hands on your bare sides underneath his favorite t shirt

he looks at you with that damn look in his eye as you both catch your breath

as soon as he catches a glimpse of  your chest rising and falling, and feels your breath on his collar bones, he can’t help himself

exploring every square inch of you as if he hasn’t already committed all of you to memory

he is most definitely not a morning person, but he insists on letting you stay in bed while he makes you breakfast because you’re “his guest”

he goes into the kitchen and quickly realizes he has no clean pans

he walks sheepishly back to his room and hands you a bowl of cereal

“I promise I know how to cook, just not at this ungodly hour”

its 10 am

and he in fact does not know how to cook

he would do anything to avoid doing dishes its actual torture for him

you have to be quiet getting ready so as not to wake his uncle

this works until eddie falls over putting on his shoes

he refuses to squat to tie his laces so he hops around on one leg like an idiot instead

driving with eddie is either terrifying or exhilarating, depending on who you are

its kind of like riding a rollercoaster

there’s absolutely no way you should be alive right now, but you “haven’t died yet right?”

this is also his excuse for driving like a madman

but you trust him with your life, even if he has almost flipped his van every time he drives

lets talk about the van

he loves his van. aside from his guitar, its his baby. practically an extension of himself

despite this he treats his van like shit

there are a million scratches and dents, his shocks are ruined from hitting potholes and driving over curbs

there are crushed beer cans everywhere

he keeps an old skateboard from middle school in the back 

he used to skate everywhere before he got his van so yeah he has really nice thighs for sure

the two of you will often just sit in a random parking lot for hours just hanging out (small town activities lol)

when you do he likes to show off all the tricks he remembers. it isn’t many and he’s bad at all of them

he loves that you keep a first aid kit in his car for him

he’s probably got a disgusting mattress he found in a ditch back there too

definitely doesn’t know how those stains got there

he has to put like 3 layers of sheets on it before you even consider laying on it

keeps it back there for drive-in movies or stargazing or making out

[propheciesanddreams]

So this started as a microfic but then it ended up 750 words. Here’s a summer afternoon if Sirius’ name had been cleared and Wolfstar got to take Harry home after 3rd year. Enjoy!

“Oh I’m sorry I didn’t know you were in here.” Harry muttered from the doorway. Remus looked up from the book he had been enraptured by to look at his nephew’s face. His expression was timid, nothing like he had been at Hogwarts this last year where he strutted about with the confidence of… well, of James. Here, he looked more like Sirius had those first few years before they’d gained his trust. Harry looked broken, and that filled Remus with such sadness and guilt. It was his fault Harry had been living with those muggles in the first place. If he had fought harder or gone to Dumbledore’s office that night, simply anything but go down to the pub and get plastered for months on end, things might have been different. He shook himself mentally and returned his attention to Harry.

“That’s quite alright, Harry. Were you wanting the room?” He made to get up, finding a gum wrapper on the table to use as a bookmark, before he did.

“Oh err no. Is it alright if I join you?” He asked nervously. Remus sank back down onto the couch and smiled softly.

“Of course, Harry. You’re welcome anywhere in this house.”

“Thanks, Professor.”

“You don’t need to call me Professor anymore, Harry. Not here at least. You can call me Remus,” he suggested. “Or Moony. That’s what you called me when you were a baby.”

“Did I?” Harry came to sit next to Remus on the couch with that familiar curiosity on his face he got anytime either he or Sirius brought up anything of the past.

“It was more like Moo’eey than Moony, had trouble with the n. You were just so little. James used to catch me off guard and moo in my ear after the first time you said it.” Remus chuckled at the memory and Harry laughed as well. “He was good for that, James. We were fighting for our lives every day but the moment we stepped into your house it was as if there were no war. He’d make us laugh and have some made warm meal for us to enjoy.”

“My dad cooked?” Harry asked, eyes wide in curiosity.

“Oh yes.” Remus chuckled again. If he thought real hard he could still taste some of the delights James made. “He loved to cook, got it from his mum, your grandmother. She even tried teaching Sirius and I right after Hogwarts, said we had to learn to feed ourselves now we were grown.”

“So what happened?” Harry asked, and Remus was so taken aback by how much he sounded like Lily then that he couldn’t chide the boy for being rude. He doesn’t even think Harry noticed that he was being rude because it didn’t come with his usual timidness or defiance. No, this was Lily all ‘speak first and let thoughts catch up later’. If Remus was right, Harry would apologize over dinner where he would be reassured that he had said nothing wrong.

“You can have the best teacher and still no talent, I suppose.” Remus shrugged.

“And my mum?” Harry began.

“Hmm?”

“Did she like to cook too?”

“She liked to watch your father cook.” Remus teased. In his memory he can clearly see Lily seated up on the counter and James mixing together spices and lentils and potatoes all together in a large bowl beside her. She had leaned down to kiss James and only winked at Remus when she noticed him in the doorway. A secret between them, as if Lily’s love for James had been a secret to anyone after seventh year. Remus would have to see if he could get a hold of a pensieve, he’s sure Harry would like to see that memory. “Your mum was an excellent baker though.” He added as he came out of the memory. “She always made me something sweet after the moon.”

“Why’s that?”

“Dunno.” Remus shrugged again. “She always said eating would make you feel better. Particularly something sweet. You know, I think I actually have some of her recipe cards she had copied over for me. I haven’t looked at them in years. Anything I attempted would taste like sand. You though, you’ve got your parents' talent. I think it’s time those cards get passed on.”

Harry beamed at him at the prospect and when Sirius came home later that evening, he found them in the kitchen in a mess of sugar and flour.

[chris-continues]

College au Wolfwood HC’s <3

I thought the guy needed some love! I’ve mainly written Nai hcs and Vash hcs but I’ve had some thoughts brewing of this guy :)

I was making this before I read @macncherries character study on Vash and Wolfwood and he definitely inspired some of this!

I definitely plan to expand on this but I wanted to start with headcanons before delving into drabbles and whatnot lol

-He has a mullet that’s not that taken care of. His hair is always messy dude

-hates constricting shirts. Tight collars make him go insane, he feels like he can’t breathe

-^^he does love loose turtlenecks more. He feels a little fancy, y’know? :>

-he’ll buy mints in bulk because he can’t smoke in class so he has some big ass gallon sized ziplock bag halfway full of mints where he fishes one out and eats it

-it’s a bit where he’ll have unwrapped ones and offer it like it’s a drug to Meryl LMAO

-he likes the feeling of loose linen colorful button ups. Vibrant orange looks wonderful against him, half of the top unbuttoned

-he’s paying off a motorcycle he got. Expensive? Yeah. But he like needed it. So…

-He’s got a used Nissan he’s also still paying off. He gives me Nissan vibes. Like think 2014 Nissan that’s somehow still working with a bit of dust on the dash and a makeshift ashtray in the center console + gum + mint wrappers randomly tossed in there.

-met Vash via Milly and Meryl (they wanted to form a study group and he was having a mini competition w Meryl over who’d get the highest test score on smth—-> became friends w Vash and reader who are very smart lol)

-when Wolfwood wasn’t presenting as masc as he is now (pre transition to mid transition) he wore his pants low on his waist like guys in the 90’s (reference that one scene in Clueless LMAO) with a part of his ass hanging out- made him feel more masc in a time where it was harder for him.

-he likes honking when he drives. Vash called him a goose because he honks so mf much

-he’s got several piercings, he wants to get an eyebrow one perhaps? He has several ones for his ears (he feels really cool with them + when he feels femme he gets a bunch in bulk via Amazon or his usual place if he’s feeling fancy)

-Claims he doesn’t need retail therapy, stares into shop windows a bit too long. Man has a will of steel.

-He hates studying. But he does it anyway. While Meryl makes flash cards he’ll make the dumbest puns and memory hints with Vash (that make Milly laugh and Meryl annoyed to no end claiming they don’t help) (they actually do help)

-He has all caps handwriting- it’s kinda cool.

^^he does the random little big lines through his H’s because he thinks they’re cool

-a lot of the quirks he has are because he saw it in a movie and integrated it into his mind- having little flairs and things that scream him

-he uses sharpie to color his nails black when he’s bored (Vash uses Meryl’s gel pens to doodle on his hands) (they’re doodle bros)

Ok so outfit pics

IMO he totally likes a more subdued grungy vibe but still harbors a love for vibrant button ups

Referencing to the photo w the denim jacket? He def has 1-2 denim jackets he sticks to for comfort and I think one day when he’s feeling especially wacky he’ll go crazy with it and start using bleach or puffy paint on the sleeves. He felt it was lacking. Perhaps the fangs on the back, perhaps the punisher drawn on the back, etc. He let Vash draw little stars on the shoulders and tiny smiley faces :)

For the second two next to the denim jacket one I feel like he’d get tshirts for the sole purpose of making them tank tops. He likes to show off his armpit hair sometimes, it’s gender affirming for him, and plus he gets hot out very easily. (Why do you think his shirt is always unbuttoned?? Because he’s a whore??) yes

But patchwork button ups and colorful shirts like that are very cool and I think he’d like those on occasion.

-He likes classic rock like idfk Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, along w other artists and alt genres. The guy has taste, give him respect

-he def has like 2 pairs of shoes and doesn’t switch them. Like Birkenstocks he found at the thrift that are lowk falling apart and these boots he found half off (also at the thrift) that are also falling apart from overuse

-I feel like he’d accidentally dress like grungy Adam Sandler in the summer LMAO

-the dude always has tension headaches and it’s either from the constant smoking, the withdrawal of smoking because he can’t smoke in class, or the immense amount of stress he feels

-He acts as chauffeur for the ladies and Vash because he claims Meryl’s music taste is mid and Vash at the wheel is a nightmare

-(both him and Vash are gentlemen in their own way for the girlfriends Milly and Meryl. Guard dogs fr. I love this dynamic hehe)

I plan to do more for Meryl and Milly and add onto this because as I write more thoughts about college au Trigun flood my brain and I need to get them out ty for ur time I hope you have a great day ALSO PLS COMMENT OR REBLOG UR THOUGHTS or feel free to dm me I would love to share the brainrot with everyone! :D

[inhayara]

A Day in the Life Of

something I wrote instead of procrastinating.

***

:begin:

m = 2kg

a is constant

no friction → closed energy system

PEg = PEs (?)

Fnet =

Fnet =

Fnet = …

Bzzt! karelyn.velaii messaged you on instagram.

Tak, tak-tak tak tak tak.

Haha. No, no, you’re supposed to be working. You’ll talk to her later. Exit the conversation.

Exit the a- “Someone wrote a fanfiction about me. You guys, I have to read this-”

“Personally I think the phrase “it’s okay to not be okay”-”

“POV: you walk up to the register in full cosplay-”

“Girls literally post on their instagram-”

“Why is it always “girl spill the tea” and never-”

“I think it’s time we do something about the straight man population yall-”

“Old people are always like “oh back in my day there was no autism”- “

A phone crashes against a pillow. You crash back with it.

Fnet =

Fnet =

Fn- You should probably move those stickers. And that notebook. And the other one- no wait, you need it for transferring assignments to your to-do list. Why are there so many gum wrappers on your desk?

No wait, Fnet- those gum wrappers have to go. In the kitchen, in the kitchen… Ah, water! Only now you realize how dry your tongue is. Obviously, water. What a silly thing to forget. You set the gum wrappers down and pour yourself a glass.

The water jug needs refilling. You turn the tap on and see the dishes in the sink. It’s filthy – and you hate washing dishes, but you know that you haven’t done much in the way of chores these past few days, so you know you should contribute somehow, and anyways you have this pressing, needling, restless urge to do anything other than what’s waiting for you when you get back. Which is- er, something. Doesn’t matter what – dishes now.

The dishes are done, and they rest sparkling clean on the drying rack. You smile at a job well done.

Alright, back to work. You exit the kitc- gum wrappers accuse you from the counter top.

Right.

Gum wrappers.

They go in the dustbin. You know if you tried separating them for recycling, you might spend another half hour here. Or had it been twenty minutes? You would check, but your watch is in the other room – which you need to go to, anyways.

Back at the desk. Three notebooks lie haphazardly stacked – one for writing, one an agenda, and one that tracks progress with stickers. There is one date written, and two stickers. The date is from last week.

You sit at your desk.

Fnet =

Fnet =

Fnet- Maybe you just need to change assignments. Something less daunting, like history or Spanish. Surely you can manage Spanish.

You open the assignment- ah yes. It’s missing. You feel a strange dread pool in your stomach, wrap around your throat. You close the assignment.

Back to physics then.

Fnet =

Fnet =

Rereading the problem. Springs… dropped from a height h… speed of the ball…

Fnet =

Fnet =

Fnet =

Fnet = Fs… no that can’t be, erase it.

Fnet =

The notebook cover catches your eye and you think of red hair.

You imagine red hair, and a girl named Emily. She is stubborn, and funny, and far, far away from here.

Ah, but what if she was… You spring to your feet senselessly. You pace unknowingly. You dream of a girl named Emily and fiction you will never write, and you think of praise you’ll never receive and a person you’ll never be, because there are still three notebooks at your desk, one unopened, one with endless work, and one with two stickers and a date from last week. Some progress.

You’re on the carpet now. You check your watch – 9:23 pm. You tilt your chin to the ceiling and sigh.

It’s fine, it’s fine, you just need some – motivation. Rah rah. Energy. Music. Music! You just need some music.

You open a video from a watch later list stuffed with ambience rooms. Elegant jazz, how nice. You close your eyes and imagine – ah, but this one has a better background. Click. Oh, it’s so pretty… there’s no music though. Hm.. Always by Erasure? Well now you have to play it. Oh, and Paisley Park! Add it to the queue. Oh and! Oh and! Oh and…

Every song is an opportunity to get motivated to do work, you tell yourself. You just can’t seem to take them. You avoid looking down at Fnet, and say it’s because you’re waiting for that spark.

You’re dancing when the door opens. Right, bedtime. Time to- bedtime?! You can’t believe it’s this – but you can, but you can, because it always is.

It’s fine. It’s fine. This is still salvageable. You’ll just have to make some sacrifices.

The crisp sound of opening a Celsius. You hope nobody heard, and hide it in your drawer.

There’s a picture of forest fruit on the can, but it doesn’t matter. They all taste the same: cough syrup and desperation.

Fnet =

F- let’s do another assignment, actually. Not Spanish, not spanish… history? You could manage history. At least this one isn’t missing.

Ten minutes of silence. Ten more minutes of silence, punctuated by typing and thoughtful pauses.

Tycoons like Carnegie invigorated the… No that’s not the right word. Motivated? Restructured? No, no – thesaurus.com. Ah thesaurus.com, your old frie- never mind, none of these words fit. Agh, what was the word? It was right at the forefront of your mind, you can feel it- ooh that’s a great sentence. Not for this assignment though. Instead for… you’re pacing again. Your mind somersaults through daydreams of dragons to more fantastical daydreams of admiration and praise. Of a person you could be proud of being. You smile a fool’s smile, and keep pacing.

Sitting on your bed brings you closer to your phone. First mistake. Or hundredth mistake. All the mistakes. They’re the only decisions you make, anymore.

You open it, and scroll.

Second mistake. You stop scrolling. Dread unfurls from where it slept in your stomach and seeps into your blood. You close your eyes, your face to the ceiling. Again.

Come on. One last go. Get up. The bed creaks under your weight.

The computer would have shown you a half-finished history assignment if it hadn’t been left untouched for so long that now it is dark. You click it back to life, and check the time.

2:43 am.

You stare at the screen, and it stares back at you, the black numbers converging into pixels of red and green as your vision blurs. You blink back the tears that are already coming. Too late. Too late, too late, too late…

A tear plops onto the desk, and you follow it with your gaze.

Fnet = .

Another tear falls, and you with it.

Crumpled on the floor, all out of motivation and stickers charts and hope, you whisper three words:

“I give up.”

Tomorrow you will do the same.

:end:

[sociallyawkwardseal]

Prompt: Fictober: “Yes. No. I don’t know.”+Lovetober: Candy

Fandom: School Bus Graveyard

Summary: Aiden and Ben forgot to do their homework. o7

Content Warnings: None that I can think of!

Words: 572

     Aiden and Ben were the last two to sit on the bench at breakfast; he slid in next to Ashlyn, his backpack strap loosely clinging to his shoulder as he scooted his tray until it bumped hers, and Ben taking a seat next to him.

    “Hey!” Despite just how early it was and how little sleep any of them got, he still managed to beam at her. “Sorry we took awhile, I ended up not really sure of what I wanted?”

    “You guys are fine, no worries.” Taylor shot a bright, but undeniably drained smile in his and Ben’s direction. “Tyler and I got here early today, plus none of us would leave without either of you.”

    “We wouldn’t be leaving, anyway. We have plenty of time before class actually starts.” Tyler mumbled, poking at his oatmeal. “But yeah. We wouldn’t just run off without you guys.”

    “Aw, that’s so sweet!” Aiden chimed, half-teasingly. “I didn’t know you had that much of a soft spot for either of us.”

    “It’s not—don’t take it like that.”

    “Did you finish the homework, by the way…?” Logan asked. “The rest of us actually went over it before you got here—so if you need any help…”

    “Oh, dude, I actually forgot we had homework last night? Ben?”

    Ben’s eyes widened slightly, and he offered a subtle shake of his head before looking back down at his plate. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, typed, and flashed the notepad towards Aiden, displaying the message ‘i forgot, too.’

    “Yyyup, we both forgot.” Aiden said, his words punctuated by a half-worried laugh.

    “You’ve let us copy off of you enough times, just copy off one of us this time.” Ashlyn pulled her bag up from under the table, and while holding its strap with one hand, unzipped it and pulled a red folder out. “Here’s mine, unless you just want to copy off of someone else.”

    “Oh, seriously? Thanks, Ash.” Aiden, slightly and unintentionally scrounging Ben, pulled his backpack over his shoulder and on top of the table. He opened it, and started to dig, occasionally pulling crumpled pieces of paper, puzzles, candy wrappers, and fidget toys and putting them on the table. Every so often, he would stop to inspect papers that lay flat against other papers. “Sorry, it’s in here somewhere!”

    Tyler frowned, staring at the growing mess on the table. “Do you keep anything organized?”

    “Nope! I kind of suck at it.”

    “I’m about to start organizing it myself.”

    “Psh, good luck. It’ll be wrecked in like, a week. Not even intentionally… Oh, anyone want some candy? I just refilled mine and Ben’s stash like, two days ago.”

    “Oh, what kind?” Logan leaned around the debris on the table, trying to catch a glimpse of the inside of his backpack.

    “Some hard candy, chocolate—those little mini bars? Gum… Like, ten flavors of gum. Some sour spray…”

    “I’ll pass, but thanks for offering.” Logan leaned back, his brows furrowed.

    “Is any of the chocolate not melted?”

    “Yes.” Aiden stopped digging and nodded confidently before pausing, his mouth pulling into a slight grimace. “No? I don’t know.” He started digging again, his eyes locked back on the inside of his bag; soon enough, he produced a medium sized zip-lock bag filled with various individually-wrapped candies. “Here, though. You guys can look through it. We’ve got plenty at home, sooo. Whatever you take, we can just restock.”

[bathearts]

“Gum?”

- By bathearts !

Pairing: Battinson!Batman x Drunk F!Reader

Warning(s): Few mentions of alcohol

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: Drunk (Y/N) finds herself being taken home by, none other than, The Batman.

A/N: My first ever story on this account! I hope you guys enjoy :) Gif is also not mine!!

-

(Y/N) stumbled behind a large, dark figure. Her heels were too bothersome during her being drunk so she quickly took them off and followed behind him. His large boots made loud stepping noises especially with the water from the rain.

She swore she would have seen him eye her after she took off her heels and was now barefoot. She saw him mumbled something,

“Sorry, what? I didn’t catch that.” Her eyebrows furrowed, trying to think of what he said. He sighed out of frustration. This ain’t how he wanted to spend the night, nonetheless as Batman.

(Y/N) wasn’t a drinker, in fact she would’ve liked to have fun without any alcohol involved. But her friends convinced her to come to the bar with them and have a few drinks. A few turned into a bunch. She drunkly made her way home till a large figure towered over her. She had never seen him before, so it was safe to say she was shocked to even see him.

He knew better than to leave a young, drunk woman in the streets alone at night. He offered her some help home, at first she hesitated.

But, thinking of how drunk she was she accepted the offer and now they were walking together back to her place.

“Thank you for helping me back home, I really… appreciate it.”

Silence.

Instead of talking her mouth off she decided to stay silent. Not to mention, she didn’t want to drown his smelling senses with her gross breath.

“What were you doing alone here and drunk?” He finally spoke up, which really surprised her given the fact that he had been so quiet. His voice really wasn’t what she expected either. It didn’t sound bad, she liked it. It was just that he was THE BATMAN.

“Oh, I was just having fun with a few friends. Don’t you have drinks sometimes?” She hiccuped. He stared at her for a few before looking at the sidewalk ahead.

She grabbed her purse and rummaged through it, he tensed up. Getting ready for anything. Her hand slowly made her way out of her purse, his heart began to beat faster. Adrenaline pumping though his veins already.

…

“Gum?…” She had a pack of gum in her hands, showing it to him. He stopped and looked at it for a split second.

“No.”

“Oh… okay…” She pulled a piece out and unwrapped it. She quickly began chewing it.

“Are you sur-“ “Yes.”

Sheesh.

He interrupted her, seeming a bit annoyed. He was glad she wasn’t those loud drunks who like to scream and just cause chaos. But still, it wasn’t his plan to take someone drunk home.

“If I throw this wrapper on the ground, are you going to punch me?” She looked at him, with bug eyes. She swore she could see him crack a bit of a smile but she was drunk so what did she know?

“Why would I punch an innocent?”

“I don’t know, cause littering is illegal too. Technically that would make me a criminal… so…” She stopped herself, she felt herself like if she kept talking she was going to talk his ear off.

It was nice talking to him for some reason though, it was like he did listen and he was taking note of what she was saying even if she was drunk.

“I wouldn’t do that. How far is your home?”

“Oh, my apartment is just up ahead to the right.” She smiled. “You sure you still don’t want gum?” She pulled out her packet, opening it up and extending her arm towards him.

He rolled his eyes, taking a piece and putting it in his pocket.

“You’re not going to eat it?”

“No.”

She nodded, putting the gum packet back.

Finally, they were standing in front of her apartment.

“This is it, um, thank you again.” She smiled.

“Don’t get drunk if no one you can trust can take you home.”

“Well, why don’t you just give me your number. I can trust you, right?”

Oh my god.

She didn’t just say that. She hoped he didn’t take it as a flirty type of response because she genuinely just wanted to have his number.

Even if he didn’t seem pretty handsome under that mask, not to mention you could totally see his muscles under his suit. She wondered what it would be like to run her fingers across his fa-

“Hey?”

“Sorry. What were you asking?”

“Do you… need help getting up to your apartment?”

“Oh. No, thanks. It would be pretty weird taking in The Batman to my door.” She chuckled, he looked at her facial expressions for a while before blinking away his fantasies.

“Well, bye.” She waved bye before walking inside, except she heard heavy footsteps behind her. She stared at him.

“What are you doing?…”

“Taking you to your apartment.”

Wow. This guy was like a black cat that you can’t shake off after you tried giving it some sort of affection but then stop because it doesn’t have a good response to it.

“Wouldn’t that be wei-“ “No.”

Two times. Two times he’s interrupted her. Drunk people have feelings too!

“Okay.” She nodded, making her way inside. Thankfully no one was in the lobby since it was late at night. He looked around, inspecting the place. Hearing the buzzes of the lights and the faint smell of cigarettes lingering in the halls.

She stopped at a door, if he wasn’t paying attention he could’ve tripped over her. Thankfully he stopped.

“This is it. 207.” She looked through her purse, finding her keys and quickly shoving the key in the lock.

“It’s… hard to open these doors sometimes.” She jiggled the handle a few times.

He stepped towards the door, signaling her to back off a bit. He turned the handle and opened the door. Stars appeared in her eyes.

He was strong, that's for sure.

He found himself looking around her apartment, the halls and such were terrifying and bad. But she had a cutesy looking apartment. Cozy.

She walked in, turning towards the door.

“Um, you can come in if you want.”

She really wants to invite a huge bat into her home that she's barely met. Well, not even met.

He looked at her with uncertainty in his eyes, and he stepped in. She moved out of the way.

Once he was in her apartment, she closed the door.

“Do you want anything? Apart from some gum?” She chuckled, throwing her keys on the counter and keys on the couch.

“No.” He was tense, he knew nothing would happen but he was never in anyone’s home. Not as Bruce Wayne and most definitely not as Batman.

“Okay. Make… yourself at home.” She turned to head to her kitchen. He followed behind her.

Oh.

So he was that type of person.

“You don’t want any coffee?”

“Um… sure.”

He needed the energy. Though he wasn’t too sure.

“Okay. Let me just find the kettle.” She looked around the cabinets.

She stopped, looking behind her and around. She realized that he was gone.

She looked at her counter, a thin piece of paper that wasn’t there before laid there. Flat. She picked it up.

Oh.

Oh…

It was his phone number.

XXX-XXXX-XXXX

- The Batman

[the-best-ads-worker]

Love languages for the boys :)

Physical touch: He loves giving and receiving physical touch, but will back off if he’s told. He’s more likely to do hand holding, light shoulder pats or head pats. Now if he’s on the receiving end of it he’ll melt especially if someone cups his cheek. Very much puppy energy :)

Words of affirmation: He honestly sucks at putting his love into words. He just doesn’t know how to word it properly and then he trips up on his word but he tries his best.

Quality time: Gunther honestly loves it. Since he and his partners are busy running the ship so when he dose have time with them he’ll just pull them to go relax for a little bit. Or they just talk about the stressful day.

Gift giving: He honestly dosent like being gived gifts. He’ll accept them yes but feels guilty. He hates people spending money on him but would buy his lovers the world if simply asked. But if it’s something homemade like a sweet or those little hearts made out of gum wrappers he’ll adore it. (He’s one of those people that probably has a drawer filled with those hearts that he’s made/been given)

Acts of service: he’ll definitely give this the most. “Oh all my partners need more coffee ok” cut to Gunther walking into the common room with like 5 mugs. He also will run and get stuff that they need at anytime of the day. Again the kinda the puppy brain that works for this “if I do this it shows I love them and they’ll give me a kiss or praise” type of deal.

[niobe-loreley]

Heaven Is In A Shortcake {v}

sorry for the long wait, enjoy the appetizer!

(see author's notes far below)

disclaimer: The Gray Man and the characters are NOT MINE, even the reader. I only own the plot and the reader's character lol. pictures are NOT MINE, only the edited version of it for the fic (msg me if you're the owner), credits to the rightful owners and to weheartit + canva. additionally, i am not a subic/zambales native so my apologies for any wrong, locations, or languages.

Six x F!Reader / Courtland Gentry x Fem!Reader

warnings: moderate swear words. slow burn. fluff. comedy (maybe). trust issues. culture shock. check word count.

CHAPTER SELECTION is in the ✨Masterlist✨

Chapter 4 - previous chapter, check masterlist link

Chapter 5 - this is it

[next chapter link will be posted below for suspense & convenience hehe]

words: 2.9k to 3.2k (maybe)

(N/N) = nickname

*Kiara = Claire

*Kurt = Court

*cover names | reader doesn't know (except you do know #wreckthe4thwall

⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜

You look up and catch sunbeams glinting off buildings. They’re blinding, but only for a moment. For some reason, that’s how two months feel like— a moment. A very exhilarating and periodically relaxing moment. It’s as though when you stop your gait, turn your gaze down, and blink away the lingering sunlight— it’s already the next day.

You hate the irony of how time ticks faster whenever you're having fun. Quite unfair. Time should be pausing, or at least slowing down, and letting you enjoy those genuine, serotonin-inducing moments without consequences. The urge to curse profoundly at time quivers in your tongue, but you'd rather not anger it and shorten your time in this world.

Before the fear dissipates your anger, you remind yourself why you're so angry at time.

Drum roll—

Because this has been one of the most interesting summers of your life, and it's coming to an end.

Badum-tss!

You won't say it aloud, but you mentally answer Muro when he asks: why do you keep glaring at the clock?— Because it's going too fast, I don't want summer to end.

One reason is because of the incoming rainy season. Businesses slow down sometimes, but at least the cafe's hot drinks and soups are the top products. Though, people of this country still drink hot coffee on a sweltering (normal) day. And you'd be lying if you say you're not one of them.

Other reasons— yes, plural —are the father-daughter duo, who are (probably Americans) Friday night regulars at the cafe. You haven't inquired about their ethnicity, but you haven't heard any accent from them. Moving on from that, this father-daughter duo has made your summer vastly enjoyable. And if you're being more honest, they're the main reason why this summer is in your Top 5 Best Summers list.

You've only been meeting them once a week, sometimes twice or thrice when you run into them at the malls, even so, every encounter with them is delightful. Even though Court is as guarded as ever. But over the past eight weeks, he's slowly been building a window for you to occasionally look through his reinforced concrete walls. The window is heavily curtained all the time, yet you'll find a gap.

Six weeks ago, as you’re serving them their meals, Claire fixes up the board games she brought and returns them to the shelf. Court is disposing of the gum from his mouth to its wrapper.

“You can put that on the tray. I can slip it in the trash,” you quickly say when he attempts to pocket the tissue in his jacket.

“Oh.. uh,” he pauses, looking from his hand to you as you outstretch the tray to him. “It’s fine.”

“Please, sir, it’s my pleasure— wait, no. That doesn’t sound right.”

Court snorts before he can stop himself. Your genuine grimace is somewhat fascinating, probably because it instantly burns his assumptions to the ground. Isn’t it normal to think that someone wants to check on your DNA by acquiring the gum you finished chewing?

However, it appears you’re not one of those people.

“Here,” Court puts the rolled up wrapper on the tray.

“Is it the same flavor?” you ask, “Bubblicious Watermelon gum, right?”

“That’s right,” he nods, astonished at your recollection.

You chuckle. “It’s not that popular here, though I’ve seen it around S&R. I remembered it ‘cuz I like the name— Bubblicious.”

“Would you like some?”

You’re surprised, but Court is shocked. He doesn’t realize what he's asking until he finds himself fishing out the packet of gum and extending it to you. Before he can take it back, you’re already reaching for the gum.

“Thanks.. gum would be perfection.” you wink, slipping out a piece.

“Great— another FRIENDS and bubblegum addict.” Claire groans and furtively smirks at Court.

You laugh. “I didn’t peg him as someone who watched FRIENDS.”

Court opens his mouth, ready to defend himself, but Claire interjects, ready to expose him. “Watched? He’s still watching the series,” she says. “And now, when I started watching FRIENDS, he’s watching it with me.”

"Oh, wow, he is an addict." you remark theatrically.

Court sighs. "Why are you two always ganging up on me?"

"Simple, teasing you is fun." Claire states with a nod.

You pop the gum in your mouth and give a thumbs-up. "I concur."

"That's the last gum I'll ever offer you."

"Sure, sugar daddy. It's not like I can't buy my own."

You sashay away to put the trays in the tray station, next to the refill area, but not after you ram the tray through the mini-swinging door of the trashbin and slide the wrapped up gum in. You remain calm until you siddle through the kitchen doors—

"What the fuck?!" you whisper to yourself, covering your mouth, you abruptly crouch down. "What the fuck did I just call him?— Wait, no. No, no, no, no! Don't remind yourself! Fuck!"

You hop in your squatted form. You wanted to stomp your feet, but you didn't want to make any noise. But you need an outlet, or a neuralizer, so that you can forget what you said. Talk about cringe!

You'd really take a neuralizer right now.

"Ano ginagawa mo d'yan?" Mindy is looking at you like you're an animated garden gnome.

“Binubuksan ko yung lupa para lamunin na ako.” Opening the ground so it could swallow me.

Court still gives you gum in the following weeks. Though, he preferred it if he hands it to you without Claire in earshot, because she would pull teasing faces at both of you.

And as for Claire, she has been exchanging books with you all summer. Or more like, you’ve been reading the same books while she managed to read three. It took her 4 weeks to finish both TFIOS and Paper Towns after you gave them to her. She told you that she had to pause after every chapter to calm her heart down, and this temporary discontinuation typically goes as long as 2-5 hours. 

“Damn, finally!” you exclaim with a laugh, “Now that you’ve finished the books, when are you gonna watch the movies?”

Claire hands you the paper bag holding the books. “I think I need some time off from the heartache,” she sighs, softly patting her chest, where her device-assisted heart is beneath.

“That’s right, you better rest— oh?” you glimpse at something else in the paper bag, “Kiara—”

“I bought a bunch of bookmarks, but I had too much!” Claire hastily cuts you off, laughing, she gives your arm a squeeze.

Your brows leap in astonishment and you glance over to Court, who’s across the booth from her. He's sitting like usual, as though waiting for a meeting: hands clasped on the table, back straight, knees bent 90°, and soles planted firmly. He meets your eyes briefly before staring at the teenager, wondering what she's hiding.

But you decide not to disclose it.

"Well, gosh! I planned to buy bookmarks 'cuz I've been putting almost anything between pages when I don't have a real bookmark," you laugh as you shortly retract the bundle of bookmarks from the bag. You then instinctively pat the teenager's crown, "Thank you, Claire. Even though it's too early for Christmas, I'll consider it as your gift. I shall give you an extravagant one after payday!"

Claire is stunned, not just from your words, but from how you pat her on the head. It's somewhat comforting, just like Court's, except it's much more gentle and natural. She finds it silly how she feels as though the two of you were born to interact in this moment. And if she's being more silly yet honest, you remind her of her mother.

"Or you can give it to me on Christmas. And I can give something back," she blurts out, glancing at Court with glistening eyes. "It's not like we're going anywhere— during Christmas, I mean."

It's discreet, but you heard it— the crack in Claire's voice. You try not to look as though a herd of elephants is stomping around your chest. And when she looks at you wistfully as she says those words, it's harder not to look pained, so instead you think about how she resembles Court. 

"No, we're.. we're here indefinitely… I hope."

You want to ask, very badly, why they have the need to leave. The way they say it makes it seem as though they have no choice. That at one point or another, sooner or later, they're gone. No looking back, no good-byes. And no amount of promises between strangers will make them stay.

You know it. They know it. And it's not hard to understand.

But still, you say— "I'll hold you to it, Kiara."

Claire is astonished, which she immediately relinquishes for merriment. "We have each other's word, then!" she replies, beaming.

Despite the cap obscuring half his face, you spot his frown as Court casts his gaze down. ‘Yeah, I’m disappointed in myself, too.’ you mentally sigh, ‘Making brittle promises to a girl with a feeble heart is a dick move.’

For the rest of their dinner, Court is extremely passive. He only looked at you once as they're leaving. 

That's why when you arrive back at your apartment, you're having second thoughts on whether or not to use the two-way radio. Claire didn't just return your books and gifted you with a bundle of bookmarks, she also gave you a walkie-talkie with a set of instructions.

READ ME

The General Guideline To Our Secret Comms

You glance at the wall clock, it's already 23:12. You don't know why Claire gave you a walkie-talkie, but you're more curious as to why she doesn't want Court to know she gave you one.

Is Court on channel 14? Should you tell him about this? Or will his daughter answer your questions if you figure out how to work this thing?

Five minutes before the designated time, you're already on channel 17 and entered the privacy code. You keep the transceiver on your desk while you crouch behind the other side of your bed. 

Who knows, it might suddenly explode. Better safe than sorry. Yet your subconscious is looking at you as though you've been probed by aliens.

At exactly 23:30, the device gives a crackle. You flinch and duck down, waiting for an explosion.

Fortunately, nothing happens except—

"Part Seven. Leave a fish for the lovely Mr. Worthington." Kiara's voice resounds out of the radio.

By the time she finishes the initial greeting, you're already clambering over the bed. You snatch the transceiver off the desk, pressing the talk button. "I suspect he won't be home yet." you reply and release the button.

"I hope the cops find him barefoot, frenzied, and naked in some roadside ditch a week from now."

"Remind me never to cross Margo Roth Spiegelman."

There's a beat before her voice crackles through with a laugh. "It's good to hear you, (N/N)."

"Well, it has been nearly two hours since we last saw each other. Quite a long time."

"I'm glad you figured how to get it to work. The lines are a bit.. dangerous, no?"

"It's not too out of context if you're a cultured being."

Claire laughs. "True. How about we update the lines every week? And let's take turns in coming up with the codes."

You grin. "Sounds fun! I'll buy some of the books you have, then?"

"And I'll buy yours! But the books should be the same edition."

"Copy that," you pause. "Shouldn't we be saying over or something? Or else we might be overtalking each other?— Over."

She's giggling. "I agree. Over."

"Call me childish, but I feel like a soldier or a spy. Over."

"You do sound like that. Over."

"I'm surprised the static is minimal. Over."

"That means we're less than or nearly a mile apart. Over"

"Oooh!" you exclaim and suddenly pause when curiosity bites your tongue again. You decide to free it. "Say, Kiara.. what's with the secrecy? Over."

No response.

"I'm not guilt-tripping you or anything, but it just feels wrong of me not to tell your Dad about this." you scratch behind your ear, "Don't you have SMS or Viber where we can chat freely?— Over."

"My dad's… He's a bit of a private person. Over."

"If by a bit, you mean excessively, then I agree. Over.

You can hear the smile in her voice.

"I can't help but agree."

You can imagine how the smile slowly dissipates from her lips.

"I hope you believe me when I say I want to tell you, (N/N). Because I do, and I.. I trust you somehow."

You feel a sting in your lungs. "As flattered as I am at your trust, I don't want you to confide in me if you're not ready." you pause to snort, "Or if I'm not trustworthy enough. Over."

"But you are, (N/N)!"

"Girl, you've only known me for a month. And say over when you're done speaking. Over."

"Right, sorry. But a month is a lot of time to get to know a person. Over."

You stay silent, because for the first time in forever, you don't know what to say next. This child is evidently trying to get close to you, or atleast, trying to find another person to trust other than her stoic father. But you're not the right person that she should be looking to. 

All your life, your parents have called you out for "running away from your responsibilities"— to which you reply, "I'm charting my own path for my responsibilities, thank you."

Even now, that's still your hardcore belief. Except it's currently wavering with the disapproving voices of your parents. You're not running away from deeply befriending Claire; Court obviously doesn't want you. They're just your customers/acquaintances, none of you owe each other anything.

So, why the hell do you have this urge to take care of the girl?

"(N/N)? Are you there?— Over."

You sigh. "Kiara.. you shouldn't easily trust anyone just because they're kind."

There's a moment of silence from the other end.

"Pft— sorry, but.. that was unoriginal. And no offense, (N/N), you sound like my dad."

"I'll take great offense in that because I am not as snooty as him!"

For the rest of your limited conversation with Claire, the two of you decided on what book to cipher— all the while throwing several remarks/trash-talking about Court. You could imagine all the mucus he accumulated from sneezing too frequently.

⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜

A/N: how have y'all been? Great! Oh? How about me? Well, my Tumblr's been buggy, I think, cuz I can't seem to comment on any posts. Anyone know what to do? I messaged the Support team already, it's been 15 hours and they haven't replied dklfjsd

✨TAGLIST✨

Portal to Chapter 6 <-click that when it's opens later (maybe)

@kat-thepoet

@queenofhellhasrisen

[my-weird-news]

😱 Unbelievable! EMT Attacked in NYC Ambulance: What Happened Next is Insane!

#StabbyComedy: The Ambulance Ambush Saga So, picture this: the Big Apple, a city that never sleeps, where even the gum wrappers have attitude. In a stunning turn of events that could only happen in New York City, a man named Rudy Garcia, who apparently thinks he's auditioning for a horror movie role, decided to turn an ambulance ride into a stabby showdown. I mean, who needs Broadway drama when you can have a real-life thriller, right? Let's set the stage. It's a warm July evening, and our protagonist Julia Fatum, a 25-year-old EMT with nerves of steel, is just minding her own business. She's doing her EMT thing, you know, saving lives and such. But wait, cue the gum wrapper! 🍬 Rudy Garcia, the gum-wielding antagonist, apparently thought it was a brilliant idea to launch a gum wrapper attack. Julia, displaying the bravery of a superhero, politely asks him to cut it out. But oh no, that's not enough for our gum-chucking villain. He responds with a passionate "f--- you!" You can't make this stuff up. Now, here's where it goes from bizarre to bonkers. Rudy reaches into his sock – yes, you read that right, his sock – and pulls out a large knife. Maybe his sock has magical pockets, who knows? He proceeds to perform a stabby symphony on Julia, hitting her left forearm, chest, and even giving her left thigh a little love tap. I'm starting to think Rudy missed his true calling – he should've been a cutlery juggler at a circus. 🔪🎪 Now, let's talk about the ambulance driver. Bless his heart, he's stuck in the front, unable to help Julia because she's locked the back like it's the world's most dangerous escape room. Julia, in the spirit of a true survivor, stumbles out of the ambulance, turning this whole mess into a street performance. And guess what? An onlooker captures the spectacle on camera! I bet that footage is going straight to the "New York's Weirdest Moments" YouTube playlist. 🎥 And what's Rudy's excuse for his stabbing spree? He allegedly thought the EMTs were "fake" and had "kidnapped him." Dude, I've heard of denial, but this takes the cake – or should I say, the gum wrapper. Maybe he watched one too many sci-fi movies before his sock-knife incident. But let's not forget the real heroes here – the first responders and the Mount Sinai Health System members. They swoop in to save the day, and I imagine one of them might've shouted, "Put down the sock, sir!" Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg chimes in with a press release praising these brave souls and condemning Rudy's sock-cessful attack. Now, fast forward to the court scene. Rudy shows up wearing a beige jail uniform and a blue mask, like he's auditioning for the world's most depressing fashion show. He pleads not guilty to a list of charges that reads like a crime-themed word salad. Rudy's fashion statement probably stole the show, though. And let's not forget Julia's journey. Stitches, surgeries, nerve damage – she's truly the embodiment of resilience. Her left hand even decides to take a vacation, causing Rudy to dubiously claim he thought EMTs were imposters. Yep, we're dealing with a real-life conspiracy theorist here, folks. Julia's mom takes to Facebook to unleash her frustration, leaving us wondering, "How's your bail reform working?" Touché, mom. But don't worry, folks, the story ends on a high note. A GoFundMe campaign raises a hefty sum to support Julia, because New Yorkers know how to rally around their own. And Rudy? Well, he's got a court date that's probably circled on his sock-calendar – October 30th, for those keeping track. And that's the story of the Ambulance Ambush, a tale that could only unfold in the chaotic embrace of New York City. So, remember, if you're ever in the Big Apple and someone throws a gum wrapper your way, watch out – you might just end up starring in the weirdest show in town. 🍎🚑**#StabbyComedy: The Ambulance Ambush Saga** So, picture this: the Big Apple, a city that never sleeps, where even the gum wrappers have attitude. In a stunning turn of events that could only happen in New York City, a man named Rudy Garcia, who apparently thinks he's auditioning for a horror movie role, decided to turn an ambulance ride into a stabby showdown. I mean, who needs Broadway drama when you can have a real-life thriller, right? Let's set the stage. It's a warm July evening, and our protagonist Julia Fatum, a 25-year-old EMT with nerves of steel, is just minding her own business. She's doing her EMT thing, you know, saving lives and such. But wait, cue the gum wrapper! 🍬 Rudy Garcia, the gum-wielding antagonist, apparently thought it was a brilliant idea to launch a gum wrapper attack. Julia, displaying the bravery of a superhero, politely asks him to cut it out. But oh no, that's not enough for our gum-chucking villain. He responds with a passionate "f--- you!" You can't make this stuff up. Now, here's where it goes from bizarre to bonkers. Rudy reaches into his sock – yes, you read that right, his sock – and pulls out a large knife. Maybe his sock has magical pockets, who knows? He proceeds to perform a stabby symphony on Julia, hitting her left forearm, chest, and even giving her left thigh a little love tap. I'm starting to think Rudy missed his true calling – he should've been a cutlery juggler at a circus. 🔪🎪 Now, let's talk about the ambulance driver. Bless his heart, he's stuck in the front, unable to help Julia because she's locked the back like it's the world's most dangerous escape room. Julia, in the spirit of a true survivor, stumbles out of the ambulance, turning this whole mess into a street performance. And guess what? An onlooker captures the spectacle on camera! I bet that footage is going straight to the "New York's Weirdest Moments" YouTube playlist. 🎥 And what's Rudy's excuse for his stabbing spree? He allegedly thought the EMTs were "fake" and had "kidnapped him." Dude, I've heard of denial, but this takes the cake – or should I say, the gum wrapper. Maybe he watched one too many sci-fi movies before his sock-knife incident. But let's not forget the real heroes here – the first responders and the Mount Sinai Health System members. They swoop in to save the day, and I imagine one of them might've shouted, "Put down the sock, sir!" Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg chimes in with a press release praising these brave souls and condemning Rudy's sock-cessful attack. Now, fast forward to the court scene. Rudy shows up wearing a beige jail uniform and a blue mask, like he's auditioning for the world's most depressing fashion show. He pleads not guilty to a list of charges that reads like a crime-themed word salad. Rudy's fashion statement probably stole the show, though. And let's not forget Julia's journey. Stitches, surgeries, nerve damage – she's truly the embodiment of resilience. Her left hand even decides to take a vacation, causing Rudy to dubiously claim he thought EMTs were imposters. Yep, we're dealing with a real-life conspiracy theorist here, folks. Julia's mom takes to Facebook to unleash her frustration, leaving us wondering, "How's your bail reform working?" Touché, mom. But don't worry, folks, the story ends on a high note. A GoFundMe campaign raises a hefty sum to support Julia, because New Yorkers know how to rally around their own. And Rudy? Well, he's got a court date that's probably circled on his sock-calendar – October 30th, for those keeping track. And that's the story of the Ambulance Ambush, a tale that could only unfold in the chaotic embrace of New York City. So, remember, if you're ever in the Big Apple and someone throws a gum wrapper your way, watch out – you might just end up starring in the weirdest show in town. 🍎🚑 Read the full article