#you see how he fights that man is a KICKER

[skneees]

its his day off

[gguk-n]

Chapter 3- The Reveal

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N gets rejected for the sixth time. Max win's the Monaco grand prix 2023. Y/N decides she needs time for herself.

No hate to anyone, it's for the story

{Reader's POV}

I fell asleep crying, a faint buzzing from my phone was heard from the other room. I woke up after a few hours at 3 am when I found my phone which was burning up. The messages hadn't stop coming. They had gotten quite frantic as I scrolled through my notifications. I decided to reply to Max's messages.

He was still the guy I liked, I couldn't not reply. But I was hurt and in no shape to be talking to him. I don't know what Max said after my message because my phone shut down. I pushed myself to clean myself up and my surrounding. I was a stress cleaner and I'm so grateful to having 2 jobs right now. It meant my mind would be preoccupied. I cleaned my whole house before leaving for school in the morning. My eyes were red and puffy; I was on coffee. I had yet to switch my phone on. I wasn't ready to face Max yet.

Today was the worst day, not only because of last night's revelation but I had the least amount of classes today. None of the kids needed help after class either. That meant I was left to my own devices. When I switched the phone on, I could see missed calls and texts from Max and a couple voice messages; from the night before and today morning I guess. I opened up Google to check his schedule; he was in Monaco, which was also his home currently. I found out a lot about him, you think you know someone but then Google tells you otherwise. His dad was as shitty as he described. His records and feats were astonishing and if I wasn't this angry at him for hiding it from me, I would've been so proud and told him so. His Instagram feed was pretty and polished and he posted so much racing content. I found his streaming account with a team, he was exactly like the Max that called me everyday with occasional appearances from the cats on stream. People spoke so rudely about Max, it angered me to no end. He was a kind man, a liar but a sweet man.

The real kicker was Max's girlfriend's account where I found so many pictures of them together with her daughter, from what I found out. He looked happy, he had a family like he always said he wanted. I couldn't help but smile bitterly, a part of me wished that it was me who was the woman beside him with our kid. Life is cruel in some ways, mine is satire at best. Here, I can't date a man because I'm hung up on a guy I've never met before while said man has a family. I felt tears streaming down my face which I quickly wiped them off. I had enough of pity and sympathy stares since the morning to last a lifetime, I can't deal with any more of them.

I knew I wanted to talk to Max, the only guy who has ever understood me, however, I also knew that if we spoke I wouldn't be listening to him. I was scared I would lose the one true friend I have. Would Max understand where I was coming from? Why did he hide this from me? Did he not trust me enough? I get it, but you are a public figure. I don't know how to feel about all of this. It was the weekend tomorrow. I would be left with my thoughts and I probably shouldn't confront Max before his race on Sunday, right?

I spent the next two days planning how I would talk to Max. How I would ask him why he hid everything from me? I didn't want to fight him; my parents always said I was rude and difficult to work with, that my anger consumed me, that my words were harsh. I wasn't supposed to show such negative emotions they said. I didn't want to lose him; but was I allowed to hold on to him when he never let me have him?

Max called and texted me every day but I was very scared, scared of becoming the monster my parents said I was, sacred of hurting the one I love. There I said it, said Max and love in the same sentence. I had threaded that line so carefully but after all of this, I realised that I've loved him for years and watching him be happy with some else hurt as much as knowing that I never truly knew Max. It was Sunday night, I checked the news and saw that Max won. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to rejoice watching the man I love win at what he was best at or be hurt watching him live a life I knew nothing about.

I texted him at night on Sunday, maybe he would be busy celebrating his win, I didn't know. I didn't know a lot of things. As I waited for the text back, I logged on to my emails that I had forgotten about to find a reply from the publication I had sent my work to; to be met with dismay. Another rejection, I'm not sure how many more rejections I could take. My hands shook, making the laptop fall from my lap onto the bed. I got up and got myself a glass of water.

I laid on my bed for god knows how long before the familiar ring of my phone pulled me out of my trance. I had taken the day off tomorrow. I knew I didn't have the mental or emotional capacity to deal with anything. I answered the call to a worried Max.

Max- Schat, how have you been? Haven't heard a word from you in days. Y/N- I've been busy, school year ending and stuff. Why didn't you sleep yet? Max- You know my sleep schedule is non existent. Y/N- Yeah, I guess I do. Max looked at me confused. Y/N- You know how I do freelance editing Max- You've told me about it Y/N- The latest author I'm working with is a sports author. I was hoping you could help me since you are a walking encycylopedia. Max- sure schat, but what's up with you? You know I'm always there for you Y/N- Yeah it nothing, just stressed. Max- Take off, you deserve it Y/N- The summer break is here soon, I'll be fine. So about that author... Max-Yeah, what sport does she write for? Y/N- Formula One. I don't really like reading lengthy articles and I'm sure one article wouldn't do a sport any justice. I could see the colour leave Max's face. He licked his lips before speaking. Max- You did not go through google yet, right? Y/N- Oh no, what do you take me for? I got excited to learn about something new. Do you know who the reigning champion is? Max was quite, a sort of uncomfortable silence had enveloped us, for the first time in 10 years. Y/N- Some dude named Max Verstappen. You guys share the same first name. He has 2 cats too; named Jimmy and Sassy, who look exactly like your bengals. I mean he even looks like you, with horrible sleep schedule just like you. He even sounds like you. I felt my voice begin to crack while I spoke, the lump in my throat unbearably big, my breathing was uneven. Max- Schatje, I can explain. Y/N- You don't have to Max. I never asked you what you did. You don't have to explain anything. (I smiled with only my lips) Max- I wanted to tell you, it just never came up in conversation. Y/N- I get it, it's difficult to tell your friend who has amounted to nothing that you are the World Driver's Champion, best of the best in Formula One. Max- Y/N, it's nothing like that. You're great, you're kind, you're funny. I laughed bitterly. Y/N- Those are character traits I possess, they don't describe my career goals or achievements. I know I work 2 jobs to stay afloat while you make millions, I know I wish I was an author and not their editor, I know you probably thought I was too stupid to understand your rich and fancy world. Max- No, no, you're so talented. I've read your work and I'm sure the right publication will pick your work up. Y/N- I got rejected for the sixth time today. All of this is fine except that you lied to me about being single while having a girlfriend for years and having the happy family you dreamt off. You didn't have to introduce me to her; not like my boyfriends met you. But it would've been nice if I knew. Max- It just never came up. Y/N- I...we joked about setting you up with someone all the time. Please don't. I get it, we didn't tell each other about work goals or what we did as a job but personal life; I literally told you about every guy I've ever been with. I felt bad telling you thinking you were single. I feel stupid right now. I had tears streaming down my face at this point. Max- I'm sorry,Y/N. I promise I won't hide anything anymore. Please, don't cry. Y/N- My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I majored in literature in Uni and now work as a primary school teacher and freelance editor. I'm trying to get my book published soon. I broke up with my boyfriend 2 months ago. Max- Please don't do this. Y/N- I believe at least one of us should be honest. Max- Let me fix this. Y/N- Don't worry. There's nothing to fix. (I wiped away my tears) Max- Please don't say that. You mean a lot me. Y/N- Me too. That's why, I need time. I'll talk to you when I'm ready. Max- Please, I can't lose you. Y/N- You won't. I'll always be there for you. I just need time. Take care Max I saw tears streaming down Max's face. Max- Bye, take care Y/N. I'll always be here. And then the screen went black.

[Max spent the whole week worrying about Y/N. He couldn't think straight. This was weird, she was never this busy before. It was stressing him out, he couldn't eat or sleep. He never even thought about the fact that maybe his lie had been exposed. When Y/N texted him, he was at a club in Monaco with the other drivers to celebrate his win. He only saw it after he got back home and immediately called her. She looked different, there was this sadness in her eyes. The smile didn't reach her eyes. And then she started talking, his heart was beating very fast. The moment she said Formula One, his whole world came crashing down. The more she spoke the more he felt like he was falling deeper, in a pit of his own making. He wanted to tell her, he wanted to explain himself but no words left his mouth. Then she started talking about his girlfriend. He felt like this was the last time he would get to talk to her, the last time he would hear her voice. This felt like the last time he would have her]

[alistairsmonstercafe]

Hi! Just incase you do requests, could we please have some wraith-ghost x werewolf!reader? I saw the fanart and couldn’t stop thinking about Ghost being absolutely dwarfed by their partner especially in their shift.

(And in case of nsfw, imagine ghost helping his partner through rut and getting absolutely railed by his bf half-shifted. The size difference is going crazy!)

NSFW Guiding A Shadow

NOTICE Male Werewolf TOP/DOM reader

CHARACTER BOTTOM/SUB Wraith Ghost

CW Scent Kink, monster fucking, size kink, werewolf rut, slight blood (just mentions of you scratching him accidentally with claws), mentions of poly relationship with 141 (so no cheating they all bang each other like horny rabbits)

ADDITIONAL I don't mind Fem/Fem aligned readers reading but don't feel insulted/complain that I strictly don't do Fem reader, not my cuppa tea mate.

INSPIRATION @/Bluegiragi Monster AU on Twt and Tumblr

NOTE Sorry for my sudden absence a while ago... Cough.. I think in my little adhd brain I had a fit of hyperfixation and just burnt out as easy as I came.

When you had first arrived in the helicopter, the moment Ghost had caught even a whiff of a tail, he groaned. Another werewolf? Albeit larger. But after Soap was just as recent? He prayed you weren't like him.

Well. Hoped.

He looked at you what could only be assumed from under his balaclava was a scowl. Eyes looking you up and down with a harsh crease in his eyebrows. Furrowed and judging as you walked off the plane.

Training would never be fun with a werewolf, that was for sure with their size, and with you? Many dwarfed in comparison. You were not as bulky as Soap, persay, but damn, you were built. Decently thick legs and a height that towered over many, even Ghost. Fur upon different parts of your body and decently groomed might one say.

And after hitting it off with Soap (as he wished wasn't expected,) he was yet then assigned with the task of watching over you. The likes of you, of which, while quiet, seemed to be influenced by Soap that he, Ghost, was not as scary as he turned to be. No matter how many growls or warnings of what he could do to you, you never seemed to be phased. And just as Soap had wiggled into Ghost's heart, who said it could only hold one?

You had seemed to wedge your way into that dark depth he called a heart. (As how he always described it, but nobody ever believed him.) And he seemed to accept you more. React less to your energy and simply nod. The best you could ever get you supposed. But who could complain? Not you, thats for sure.

The real kicker had been training day. It was you, Gaz, Ghost, Soap, and Price gearing up for what was meant to be a casual spar. Soap seemed ecstatic at a new man who could keep up to his size, and even challenge him. Price and Gaz could only agree to see how this would play out.

But Ghost? His eyes never left you. Narrowed and watching. What would your werewolf form look like? Were you smaller, or bigger then Johnny? Did you go just as wild as Johnny did on a full moon, more or less?

There were many unexplained questions, many both answered and many forgotten in a series of minutes as he saw your form.

That shouldn't have explained the sudden tent in his pants when he saw your wolf ish form panting over Johnny's, teeth playfully bared and a paw like hand keeping Johnny firmly planted into the floor as he surrendered.

That shouldn't have explained the sudden burning arousal in his core.

That shouldn't-

But it did.

And all Ghost could do was excuse himself for the restroom. Undoing his belt with whisps of smoke practically fighting to not let lose on his forearms. Muttered curses of mild frustration as he groaned and let out his cock, freeing it from his boxers as he bit his glove hard and stroked it. He couldn't let anyone know how much this affected him.

His mind foggy and desperate in both a want of release and mild curiosity, Ghost wondered how you'd feel. Hell, he was aware he'd only been interested a few times in his life, few one night stands, few casualties here in there in the squad.. But there was something about giving the control to someone who didn't always have a human form for the night made him curious.

Apparently curious enough to cum on his hand, breathing heavily as he was pulled from his high with a knock on the bathroom door.

"Hurry it up Lt, lads eh waitin' for ye." Soap grumbled, the sound of him walking in and turning on the tap was quiet.

"Out in a minute." Ghost could only reply, pulling up his boxers and zipping up his pants. He wiped down everything and pushed the stall door open to see Soap leaning against the sink with a raised brow, looking a little bruised.

"Look a little bruised there, Johnny."

Soap scoffs and shrugs.

"Tha' lad did aye number on me. Accidently broke the lads phone, but for a wolf of tha' size, I'd guess his family wasn't small either."

Size. Back to the size, practically forgetting about the fact your phone broke and Ghost was reminded when his mind briefly drifted back to your size, large and imposing an-

"Ghost to earth. Ye there or did ye ascend to high heaven to meet the queen?"

"I'm here, I'm here. Just had a thought."

"About a certain little wolf?"

"Shut your trap." Ghost had looked away as he was snapped from his thoughts once more, brushing past Soap as he reached for the door.

"You can do that a later day." Soap hummed. Watching Ghost leave with a cheeky grin.

Later that day, in the mess hall you were seen chatting idly with the squad, complaining on the cafeterias shitty meat options as everyone could only ever agree.

"I'm tellin' you guys, how can you even eat this shit? Tastes worse then a dog's ass." You groan, poking at the slice of supposed ham.

"An' how do you know what a dog's ass tastes like mate?" Gaz teases quietly, before getting a firm smack on the head by Soap.

"Look at us mate. We ain' exactly the people you wanna ask when knowing that of all things."

Gaz shrugs and gives a laugh. But you seem to pay no mind to their conversation, your eyes scanning around for Ghost. It had been a while since he was supposed to meet with the rest of you for dinner.

"I think I'm full, I'm gonna go look for Ghost, alright?" You mention quietly, and the rest nod, but Price seems to have an idea and shrugs, looking to the side.

Walking through the halls you pass by a calander, January 24. January 24? Why did that seem so familiar? It wasn't a birthday or a meeting, so you shrugged it off. A broken phone wouldn't serve you any good either. And you didn't feel too off aside from a few aches from today's spar.

But when you knocked on Ghost's door, a scent hit your nose like a truck. And a few soft groans was enough to let you know what was happening.

"Ghost?" You called out quietly, unsure to knock again.

"Can I come in?" You ask, even while fully aware of what's happening, leaving your tail wagging and your mouth almost salvating, you hold respect as you grip the door knob.

But when a strained voice of "come in", is spoken, you almost quickly push open the door. Seeing as Ghost lays on his back, two fingers stuffed into his hole as he looks up at you with a dazed expression.

"Interested in helpin' your superior out?" He groans, head falling back a little as his fingers press near a spot inside him.

And you can easily feel the strings of your restraint tear, the scent of him so aroused, so wet, so perfectly presented for you makes your instincts practical drool. A perfect position for a mate, and a perfect way to start the spring season.

You quickly find yourself on top of him, face buried in his neck as you lap at the scent, tongue licking where it can while your hand finds its way to his mouth. Shoving it in whilst he gives a muffled whine on them. But you know it's hard to restrict yourself in the confindes of a more human then wolf body. And it's almost like a silent plead to be allowed to switch as you look up at Ghost and whine, rutting your cock against his thigh.

"Fuckin' hell.. You have my permission. Go wild." Ghost whispers as he tugs you in close by the collar. And that enough is able to grow you around 4x in size. Clothes easily removes and teared off as your cock lays heavy against his thigh, as you continue to rut, and your fingers have long replaced his in his hole as you pump in and out, stretching him on your thick fingers as your long tongue finds its way up and down his body.

"F-fuck that tongue..!" Ghost moans out, back arching into your touch as the thickness of your fingers, your tongue, and heavy cock all feel like so much on him, and he loves it. Craves it even. And it's when you remove your fingers, in that brief moment he knows he's going to not be able to move for quite a bit after that.

And the stretch is even better. The thickness of your cock at the tip pushes in and burns delightfully, filling him up as you drag it down until it reaches near the base. But not entirely to leave room for the knot soon later. A slow paced easily turned into Jackhammering as you snapped your hips quickly into place after bottoming out in him, your claws digging into his thighs and hips causing mild drips of blood that Ghost couldn't care more about and flipping him over onto his stomach to reach deeper positions, and seeing a small tummy buldge hidden beneath as you place your free hand under it, making his whispy shadows go rampant on his body, his shadows shakily wrapping around the fluff of your neck to pull you in, mumbling praises. "G-good fuckin' boy- Oh fuck! So-.. So good fuckin' your lieutenant like a good pup-!"

It makes your tail wag faster and your mind run rampant on breeding the man below you, as you feel your knot built up.

All the sensations make Ghost jolt, moan, squirm, and whine. But the size and stretch is so worth it, and he wouldn't have werewolf cock any other way.

[pedrospatch]

what he didn’t do

Preoutbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You’re very recently divorced, but that doesn’t stop a certain handsome, brown-eyed neighbor from taking you out on a date.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. divorced reader, no massive age gap (no specific age is mentioned, but reader is in her early 30’s and Joel is 35) slow burn, 10 year crush kind of deal. reader talks about her past relationship. mentions of food and alcohol. soft, caring Joel. first date fluff.

word count: 5.1k

a/n: so um how are we all doing after today, we still alive out there? 👀 no one asked for this, this fic is purely self indulgent, my lonely single ass is convinced that pre out break Joel would be just the most amazing gentleman on a date, he would be so perfect and just take the best care of you and treat a girl right…so here is what i whipped up.

He’ll treat me right, put me first, be a man of his word

stay home ‘cause he wanted to

always fight for my love

hold on tight like it’s something that he can’t stand to lose

Joel wasn’t all too sure how it even happened.

Earlier that afternoon, he’d gone on over to your place to deliver a piece of mail that the postman had accidentally put in his mailbox instead of yours. While Joel was there, you’d kindly asked him if he could recommend a good plumber that you could call because you had a stubborn leak under the kitchen sink that you needed to get looked at sooner rather than later. Wanting to save you both the hassle and the expense of having to hire someone, Joel had told you to hang tight for a minute and rushed back over to his house, only to return with his yellow toolbox in hand so that he could fix it for you, which he’d done in fifteen minutes flat—and now, just a few hours later into the evening, he was getting himself ready to take you out to dinner. 

And the real fucking kicker of it all was that he had been the one to ask you out, proposing the offer while his head had been buried in the cabinet underneath your leaking kitchen sink. At least that way, if you had rejected him, you wouldn’t have been able to see the look of complete and utter embarrassment on his face. But much to Joel’s surprise, not to mention, his relief, you’d eagerly accepted the invitation and even suggested tonight would be the perfect night if he didn’t have prior plans or commitments.

Hell, even if Joel did have prior plans or commitments, he would have canceled them for you without a single ounce of hesitation.

He’d discovered he would do just about anything for you.

Joel shrugged into the light tan, button up shirt that Sarah had helped him pick out earlier just before he’d jumped in the shower. At thirteen, she lived with her nose buried in fashion magazines lately and she didn’t trust him to successfully choose a proper outfit for the occasion on his own without guidance. It had been well over a few years since Joel had been on a date, as she had so kindly pointed out to him while she’d rummaged around through his mess of a closet. Although he insisted that it wasn’t a date, his teenager had scoffed and called him out on his bullshit. “Well, what else do you do you call it when two single adults go out to dinner together alone?” Sarah had challenged him as she held up a couple of different shirts up against his chest, searching for the perfect one. “Especially when one of those two adults has had the most obvious crush on the other one for what, like ten freaking years now?”

“It wasn’t that obvious,” he’d muttered to her in response. Peering at her curiously, he couldn’t help himself as he had asked her, “Was it?”

“Dad, your crush on her has been about as subtle as a brick to the face.” Letting out a huge laugh, Sarah had shoved the shirt she’d selected into his hands and tossed the losers right back into his closet. “Here, wear this one with those dark jeans, the bootcut ones. Don’t roll up the sleeves like you always do. And for the love of all that is holy, at least make an attempt to run a comb through that hair of yours,” she’d advised on her way out the door, leaving him to it.

Joel sighed and buttoned up the shirt, then tugged on his dark blue jeans and a pair of black leather boots—the only pair he owned that weren’t totally worn down to the soles. He finished getting dressed and proceeded to roll up the long sleeves of his shirt up to the middle of his forearms, tucking in the cuffs as neatly as he could. He could already hear his daughter scolding him over it, but screw it, Joel wanted to be comfortable, especially now that warmer weather had arrived in Austin. 

After rubbing just the slightest hint of his favorite sandalwood cologne on his neck and on the insides of his wrists, Joel finally left his bedroom and made his way downstairs, trying his absolute hardest to pay no mind to the nerves that were threatening to creep up on him. He entered the living room where he found Tommy sitting on the couch with Sarah, a plastic blue bowl of popcorn nestled between the two of them. Sarah, who had been busy shuffling through a stack of movies in her lap, looked up when she heard him walk into the room and narrowed her green eyes at him. “Come on, man! What did I say earlier about the sleeves?”

“You told me not to roll ‘em up. But I chose not to listen to you,” Joel quipped, eliciting an annoyed sigh from her. 

Tommy smirked at him. “So motherfucker, you finally did it, huh? You finally asked her out on a date.” His smirk widened. “Only had to wait, what, about ten fuckin’ years?”

Joel glared at his younger brother. “How did you even—?” He stopped abruptly and his dark brown eyes flickered over to Sarah, who shot him a guilty smile from where she sat. “Really? You just had to tell him?”

“Sorry,” she apologized, sheepishly. “It slipped.”

“Damn, big brother. Y’know, word on the street is that she just signed the divorce papers at the courthouse earlier this week,” Tommy remarked, taking a swig from his bottle of Lone Star as he leaned back into the couch. “You’ve got some real big fuckin’ balls to ask a freshly divorced woman out on a date that quick. I’ve gotta admit that I’m actually pretty fuckin’ impressed with you, Joel. Didn’t think you’d have it in you.”

“It ain’t a date,” Joel muttered out the lie, picking up his keys from the coffee table. “We’re just goin’ out to dinner is all.”

“That’s a date,” Tommy and Sarah stated together in unison.

Joel let out a heavy sigh, deciding that it was better for him to ignore their antics rather than to play into them. “You.” He pointed an index finger at Sarah. “Might not be school night, but I don’t want you stayin’ up too late. And you.” He turned his attention to Tommy. “I don’t want you havin’ any of your little female friends over while I’m out tonight, especially not while Sarah is home. That understood?” 

“Yes dad,” both their voices chirped together once again. 

Rolling his eyes, Joel bid them a quick goodnight and left the house, making his way across the lawn and over to your place. You lived in the smaller, single story yellow house right next door to his.

You’d moved in next to Joel and Tommy several years ago—Sarah had still been a toddler then and he had just started getting used to life as a single father. Joel would never forget the first time that he laid his eyes on you. He had been in his driveway, taking a look under the hood of his old truck, a hunk of garbage Ford Ranger from the nineties that he’d finally gotten rid of a couple years back and replaced with a Chevrolet Silverado instead; it hadn’t been much of an upgrade, but at least it didn’t break down on him as often. Joel had noticed a moving van in the driveway of the house next door, but he hadn’t given it a second thought. He had been so engrossed in what he’d been doing, but at some point, he looked up from the engine and turned his head at the precise moment that you happened to walk by with a cardboard box in your arms. You’d caught his gaze and offered him what had to be the most beautiful smile he had ever seen in his entire fucking life. Joel had just set his wrench down and was about to head over to offer you some help when a man emerged from the back of the moving van with another box. He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek as he led the way into the house. 

Turns out, that man had been your husband.

To say Joel had been sorely disappointed by the fact that you were married had been an understatement to say the least.

It hadn’t taken all too long before Joel met his new neighbors, although he often saw more of you than he ever saw your husband—the man traveled across the country for business and he would be gone for several days, even several weeks at a time. You were a homemaker and to help make life a little less mundane, you’d started something of a daycare in your home, offering to help fellow neighbors who needed someone to watch their younger children during their nine to five work schedules.

When Joel found himself putting in a brutal number of hours in at his construction job, he had struggled to find someone who was willing to look after his then three year old for such extended periods of time. You’d happily volunteered to help him out and you would watch Sarah from sunrise to about sundown for him without a problem. When she started kindergarten two years later, you continued to help Joel out, going as far as taking her to school for him and then picking her up afterwards. You’d never had any children of your own, but you still had maternal instincts, and as Sarah grew up, whenever she would need a woman’s guidance, she would go straight to you without hesitation and you were always there for her no matter what, no questions asked. 

Joel couldn’t have been more grateful for you.

He’d seen and spoken to you just about every day for the last decade—he’d even go as far as saying that the two of you were good friends, though since day one, he found himself longing for a hell of a lot more than just your friendship. Joel had thought he would have to shove his true feelings for you down for the rest of his natural born life, that is, until several months ago when he’d noticed the moving truck parked in your driveway one late afternoon as he and Sarah came home from one of her soccer games. Nearly in tears, Sarah had immediately hopped out of the pickup before Joel could even cut the engine and ran over, demanding to know why you hadn’t told her that you were moving—that’s when you fessed up and explained to her that you weren’t going anywhere, but your husband was.

Through whispers in the neighborhood, Joel discovered that you had filed for divorce and although no one knew the exact reason why, many suspected it had been your husband’s constant traveling for work that had done it. Denise, the nosy blonde woman who lived across the street from him swore up and down that he must have had some kind of adulterous affair behind your back—Joel simply told her she needed to lay off her dramatic daytime soap operas. 

Regardless of the reason why, you were now officially single.

And Joel was taking you out to dinner.

Whether it was an actual date or not, that hadn’t exactly been established. 

He made it up the front porch and inhaled a deep breath, exhaling it slowly through his nose before he knocked on your front door. When you opened it just a few seconds later, all of the wind had been knocked out of his lungs by an invisible force.

You wore a sky blue sundress with a sweet, white floral pattern printed all over it. Thin straps tied together at your shoulders and the hem of the skirt fell right to the middle of your thighs revealing a lot more of your silky smooth legs than he had ever seen before. You’d kept your makeup fairly light, and your hair fell loosely and naturally around your shoulders. Joel noticed you wearing a silver necklace, a butterfly pendant hanging from the chain. He recognized it, because he’d bought it for you, although it was Sarah who had gotten all the credit. She had given it to you as a gift for your birthday that passed by a few months ago. 

“Hey!” You beamed at him. “You’re right on time.”

“Hey.” Joel swallowed dryly. “You look really beautiful.”

You smiled shyly. “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself,” You returned the compliment, admiring the way the sleeves of his shirt hugged his biceps. “I have to hand it to you, you definitely clean up well, Joel.”

“Next time that you see Sarah, you’d best thank her. She deserves the credit,” he stated, eliciting a small laugh from you. “Are you all ready to go?”

You nodded, grabbing your purse and keys from the small glass table beside the door. You stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind you; after making sure that you’d locked it properly, you followed Joel across your front lawn and over towards his driveway. He led you to the passenger’s side of his dark blue Silverado and opened the door for you, holding his hand out to help you climb up into the seat. The gesture prompted you to shoot him a strange look.

He frowned a little. “What’s the matter?” 

“No, nothing,” You quickly assured him. You placed your hand in his larger one, the contact causing a jolt of electricity to shoot up the length of your spine. 

Joel helped you up into the truck and closed the door before making his way around the front of the vehicle and climbing into the driver’s seat. He shoved the key into the ignition and the pickup roared to life. He watched as you put on your seatbelt and then reached out, giving it a tug to make sure you were buckled in well enough. “Just makin’ sure you’re safe is all,” he uttered softly as you tossed him another puzzled glance. He reached over his shoulder for his own seatbelt and buckled it in before finally pulling out of the driveway. 

Out of his peripheral vision, Joel could see you wringing your hands together in your lap in something of an anxious manner—were you nervous?

In an effort to comfort you and ease the nerves, Joel reached out and turned up the volume of the radio. He normally kept it on his favorite country station and was just about to ask what station you preferred when you let out a tiny, excited gasp and turned to him, a radiant smile breaking out onto your face. 

“Oh, I love this song!” You told him, bringing your hands together in an enthusiastic clap. You then started singing along to the familiar lyrics. “Heads Carolina, tails California, somewhere greener, somewhere warmer, up in the mountains, down by the ocean—”

Joel turned briefly, raising an eyebrow at you. “Nineties country fan, huh?”

“Duh,” You replied playfully. “Nineties were and will probably always be the golden age of country.”

He grinned, turning his attention back onto the road. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

Biting back another smile at his words, you turned to look out of the window, nodding your head and tapping your foot along to the beat of the song as you watched the streets of Austin pass by in a blur of lights and people. 

Joel had chosen to take you to Antonio’s, a locally owned Italian place that was somewhere between casual and upscale dining. “Wait,” he told you, noticing you reaching for the door handle as soon as he’d parked in front of the restaurant. He jumped out of the driver’s seat and walked around, opening the door for you. Just like when he’d helped you into the truck back at his house, he offered you a hand to help you out of it. He kept his dark brown eyes on your feet, making sure you that didn’t fall or lose one of the brown sandals you were wearing. “Careful.”

“Thank you,” You said kindly to him as he closed the door behind you. Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt him place his hand on the small of your back as he ushered you inside of the restaurant where a hostess led you to a small, round table out in the back patio. You thanked her and reached for your chair, but Joel instantly stopped you.

“Let me,” he insisted, pulling it out for you. He helped you into the chair and noticed you give him another strange look, similar to the ones you’d given him when he’d helped you into the truck and when he’d checked your seatbelt. “Why do you keep lookin’ at me like that? Do I have somethin’ on my face or what?” He asked jokingly as he took his seat across from you. 

You hesitated, but then confessed, “I’ve never had someone pull my chair out for me. I’ve never had someone open the car door for me or make sure I’m wearing my seatbelt.” You offered him a small, sheepish smile. “You don’t know how nice that is, Joel.”

Joel stared at you in complete disbelief.

Before he could say anything, a younger waitress appeared at the table to take yours and his orders for beverages. “I’ll just have a cabernet, please,” You ordered, politely. Not wanting to be the asshole who ordered a beer at an Italian place, Joel asked her for a glass of red wine too. She returned moments later with the drinks and then offered to take your orders for food. Both you and Joel decided on a chicken penne pasta dish that looked absolutely delicious. As soon as the waitress took your menus and disappeared back inside, you looked up at Joel and noticed his eyes were fixed intently on you. You felt a slight heat flood your face. “What is it?”

“Nothin’,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders innocently. “You just look really beautiful, that’s all.”

“You said that already,” You reminded him, letting out a breathless little laugh.

“I know.” Joel picked up his glass of wine. He took a quick sip before adding, “But someone as pretty as you deserves to hear it over and over again.”

The night went by fast, much too fast.

One minute, you were both enjoying your dinner and digging into delicious pasta, and the next, the table had been cleared completely, and so had all the other tables surrounding you—you two were the very last patrons in the restaurant. You and Joel had been so lost in conversation that neither of you had realized it was almost eleven and the restaurant was about to close in five minutes. 

“We’ve been sitting here talking for three hours,” You gasped lightly.

Joel chuckled. “Time flies when you’re in great company.”

You looked the bill on the table, which the waitress had dropped off over an hour ago, and reached for it, but Joel was quick to snatch it away from you. 

You pinned him with a stern look. “Come on, Joel! You fixed my kitchen sink for free, paying for dinner is the least I could do—”

“A lady never pays on a date.”

Your lips parted slightly in pleasant surprise. “Oh. So this is a date?”

Joel laughed as dug his brown leather wallet out from the pocket of his jeans. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be. But I still ain’t lettin’ you pay.”

“I do.” You told him softly after a minute. “I do want it to be a date,”

Joel’s eyes met yours across the table and he smiled, looking relieved. “Good. ‘Cause I would’ve been kinda crushed if you’d said otherwise.”

He dropped a couple of twenty dollar bills on the table and stood up. He noticed you about to do the same when he shot you a warning glare.

“Oh. Right.” You giggled and waited until he stood up and held his hand out to you, helping you out of your chair.

As the two made your way out of the restaurant and out to his truck, Joel didn’t let your hand go.

“Thank you again for inviting me out to dinner tonight,” You said sweetly as Joel walked you up the porch steps to your front door. You rummaged through your purse and pulled out your house keys, pausing for a brief moment as you peered shyly up at him through your eyelashes. “Would you like to come in for a drink?”

Joel’s heart skipped an anxious, but eager beat. “I think I’d really like that.”

You turned back to your door and your hand trembled slightly as you jammed the key into the keyhole to unlock it and judging by the way Joel let out a soft chuckle beside you, you were certain that he’d noticed it. You pushed the door open, closing it behind you once the two of you had slipped inside. Setting your purse and keys down, you gestured for him to follow you into your living room where you nodded for him to have a seat on the dark blue velvet couch before you walked towards the kitchen. “What’s your poison?” You called out to him over your shoulder as you began rummaging around in your cabinets for two glasses. 

“I’m partial to scotch,” he called back. He then added, “If you’ve got it, of course”

“How do you take it?”

“Neat’s just fine.”

You giggled as you prepared a glass of scotch for him and a glass of red wine for yourself. “Oh you’re just so classy, aren’t you Miller?” Before anything, you did a quick mirror check in the stainless steel toaster on the kitchen counter, making sure that not a single hair was out of place. You then took a deep breath, picked up the glasses, and walked back out into the living room. Handing Joel his glass, you took a seat beside him on the couch; you sat close to him, so close that his arm was pressed against yours. Somehow that wasn’t even remotely close enough. You wanted to be closer and hoped he felt the same. 

“By the way, thank you again for fixing the sink for me,” You told him after taking a sip of your wine. “You probably saved me a couple hundred bucks.”

“Oh, it’s nothin’ really,” Joel reassured you. He nudged your arm. “If you ever need me to take a look at anythin’ around the house, please don’t hesitate to call me. I don’t want you reachin’ out to plumblers and electricians, those crooks will see a sweet little lady like yourself and see nothin’ but fuckin’ dollar signs. I don’t want anyone takin’ advantage of you, so when you’ve got a problem, you call me first alright?”

You gazed down into the burgundy depths of your glass, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I really appreciate that, Joel.” You brought yourself to look up at him, admitting, “Now that I’m living alone, it worries me. Having to take care of this house all by myself.” 

Joel gripped his glass tightly, a hesitant expression on his face. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. And if it offends you in any way, you’re more than welcome to just give me a good kick in the—”

“Joel!” You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him. “Just ask me the damn question already.”

“What happened between you two?”

The smile on your face faded away, but you didn’t seem upset at him. “Well, what all have you heard?”

Taking a sip of his scotch, Joel shrugged. “Couple of rumors here and there, but I ain’t the type to believe in gossip. Would rather hear the truth from the source.”

“What did Mrs. Adler have to say about it?”

He snorted into his glass. “That you two probably could have saved your marriage had you just gone to church.”

You couldn’t help but laugh—Mrs. Adler was nice enough, but that woman could really be something else. She was always telling people they had to get right with Jesus. 

“So?” Joel prompted you. “What did he do?”

You sighed and turned your body slightly, angling it towards his. “He did quite a bit. Put me through hell, to be honest with you. But you know, I’m not the type to air someone’s dirty laundry. So, I’m not going to tell you what he did.” You paused, your fingers lightly tapping the sides of your glass. “But I’ll tell you what he didn’t do.”

Joel nodded silently, but in understanding.

“He didn’t treat me right. He didn’t treat me the way I deserved. He never wanted to spend time with me. He never wanted to be home with me, which is all I ever wanted from him. He’d travel so much for work, and when he would finally come back after being away, I would be so excited to just be with him.” You scoffed bitterly at the thought of it. “The minute he landed, he would drop his luggage off and head straight to some bar with his buddies. All I’d want is for him to just stay in with me for a night, watch a movie with me, talk with me because I missed him so much while he was gone. But he never chose me. He would never put me first, no matter how many times I asked.” You shrugged and leaned over, setting your glass of wine down on the wooden coffee table before leaning back into the couch. “It probably sounds really stupid but—”

Joel placed a hand on your bare knee, causing your flesh to erupt in goosebumps. “It doesn’t sound stupid at all.”

Finding a bit of courage, you placed your hand on top of his and continued on, “He never made me feel like I was someone worth fighting for, you know? Like my love was something worth fighting for. He made me feel like nothing, Joel. It got to the point where sometimes I believed it—I felt like I was nothing.”

Joel gave your knee a gentle squeeze. “I sure as hell hope you don’t feel that way now,” he said, his lips tugging down into a frown. “Because you’re fuckin’ everythin’.”

Your eyes flickered up to meet his and you had to silently remind yourself to breathe.

Leaning over, Joel set his glass down on the coffee table right beside yours. He turned to you and lifted his hand, touching the side of your face, his thumb delicately sweeping over the silky skin of your cheek. “A woman like you deserves the world and nothin’ less. You know that, don’t you?”

“Joel?” You whispered out his name, your heart racing in your chest at a rate that you were certain had to be much too fast for the human body to withstand. 

“Yeah?”

“Can you please kiss me?”

Joel’s hand cradled your face gingerly as he obliged, leaning in so his lips could meet yours in the kiss that he’s been aching to give you for the last yen years. He was gentle and he was sweet with it, but after a minute, he found himself lightly nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth, silently asking permission for more. He felt your lips part slightly against his and he eagerly deepened the embrace, his hand moving to the back of your head while his other found your bare knee again.

Another wave of courage washed over you and you placed your two hands on his chest, pushing him back against the soft, velvet fabric of your couch. You swung a leg over both of his and straddled his lap, your hands now clutching fistfuls of his shirt. 

Joel’s own hands went to your hips and he groaned into your kiss.

You pulled away from him, the tip of your nose lightly touching his as the two of you struggled to catch a breath.

“Let me be the one to treat you the way you deserve,” he murmured after a minute, lifting one of his hands to brush your hair back behind your shoulder; his fingertips lightly brushed against the strap of your dress, and it took every ounce of strength he had in him not to pull it down your arm. “Just give me the chance and I’ll hang the moon for you, darlin’—hell, for you I’ll hang the entire fuckin’ galaxy.”

Your heart swelling at his words, you grinned just before pressing your mouth to his once again. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Joel chuckled with a smile against your lips.

You clung to him with fervor, kissing him with a passion that had the both of you seeing stars. Your hands were everywhere, touching, feeling anything part of him you could, eliciting another groan from him as you started grinding down into his lap. Your fingers went to the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more. 

“Whoa, whoa.” Joel caught both your hands in his and let out a breathless laugh. “Hey. Slow down, sweetheart.”

You looked at him with wide eyes. “Oh I’m sorry, I-I thought you wanted—"

“Oh I do want it, trust me. Pretty sure you can feel how much I want it.” Joel chuckled again, knowing damn good and well that you could feel how hard he’d become for you as you sat in his lap. His hands toyed with the hem of your sundress. “Seein’ you in this dress all night, trust me I want nothin’ more than to have you right here, right now. But I like you way too fuckin’ much to risk messin’ this up by movin’ too fast.”

You pouted at him. 

“Oh c’mon darlin’ put that lip away.” Joel lifted his hand, taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. “All I’m sayin’ is that we ain’t gotta rush this. Trust me, you’ve got me hooked already and I don’t plan on goin’ anywhere, alright?”

You almost groaned out in frustration.

He just had to be a fucking gentleman when it came to sex, too.

You sighed in defeat, resting your hands lightly on his chest. “Fine,” You relented with a tiny eye roll, causing him to grin in amusement. You playfully poked his sternum. “But if you don’t fuck me senseless by the third date, we’re going have a problem, Miller.”

Joel groaned, feeling himself grow even harder at the way such a filthy statement had come out of a woman with the face of an angel. “Keep talkin’ like that and you’re goin’ to make it impossible for me to wait that long.”

“Maybe that’s the goal,” You winked at him.

“Just stop talkin’ and c’mere.” He pulled you forward, fusing your mouth to his once again.

[angelsleepinggurl]

𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙣’

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. truth or dare doesn’t go according to plan with friends, now you’re forced to humilate yourself infront of your dream guy.

wc . around 1,133

tags fluff. suguru geto x reader. populargeto! x reader. alternative au. non-curse au. highschool au.

｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ��｡･::･ﾟ

Squealing and giggling erupts from behind you as you peer past the lockers to look at… him.

In your school, there were the two clear hottest guys, no questions asked, no doubts raised. Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru being the hottest guys in school was a straight up fact. Gojo is notorious for his swarm of fangirls who practically bend over backwards for his attention. On the other hand, Geto's admirers are more reserved, content with hushed whispers and longing glances at his undeniable beauty.

Sure some eye candy is nice to look at here and there in the corridors after a long depressing school day, but Geto isn’t just a piece of candy to you. He’s a beautifully sculpted man with luscious raven locks, gracefully tied up into his sexy man bun. Geto stands at a staggering height of six foot three; his presence you could practically feel, his presence lingers even after he's gone—a mature, grown aura that captivates. And it doesn’t stop there because his voice is something else. Dreamy, gentle, manly, deep, silky. Simply eargasmic.

You’ve grown up to be somewhat decent. You’ve finally got that hair thing down and your shape is finally pulling through. It’s not that you were hideous. Heavens no. It was just slightly hard for you to feel confident in yourself when you’re crush was that and you were well, you.

But the real kicker, the thought that nags at you constantly is the fact that you’re a year younger than him. It was well known that Geto Suguru would only go for older girls and settle for those in the same year as him. And here you are, a year below, hopelessly smitten.

Every time you see him you’re melting and you can't help it. You’ve tried picking yourself up from this “crush” because it was written in the stars for the both of you to be apart. But according to fate, it was destiny for you to meet.

Fast forward to last week, getting drunk at your friend's house, the day rolling into the obscure night and the drunken giggles rolling past your lips, sobriety now far gone between you and your friends. The night seems to come to an end, that is until one of your friends gains the clever idea to play the game of truth or dare. At first, all is smooth sailing until your turn and your foolish decision to pick a dare.

“I dare you to go up to Geto tomorrow and tell him a total of three pick-up lines.”

Back then it seemed like a piece of cake, confidence was surging through you, ebbing and flowing through your veins. “Just walk up to him? I do that in my dreams, how much harder could this be?”

So much harder. It’s almost as if you’re going to throw your heart up with how much leaping it’s doing. You switch from balling your hands into fists and stretching them out again, relieving them of their tension. Thickly, you swallow once more, your friend Hanna growing impatient.

“Listen, if this dare doesn’t get done I will be posting that picture of you .” The issue with what Hanna has just said is that she does have quite a few followers and th possibility of most of the school laying eyes on that picture of you. You shudder.

“Okay. I’m going in,” you state, gathering all your courage and taking a prideful step forward to the boy standing near the window in the hallway. With a step forward you immediately scurry back into your hiding place. Your friends collectively groan at your cowardice.

“It’s okay girl, we’re your friends.” Hana says, holding you in a hug, “which is why we need to give you a push.” Suddenly you’re being shoved halfway into the hallway, there’s no escaping now. You don’t even have time to scowl at Hana, especially now that your body has switched into fight for flight, moving on its own accord.

You never thought the day would come when you would be so close to your upperclassman, all up in his glory, it was truly a moment to cherish. The sun shines down on his relaxed face, a strand of his jet-black hair swiftly falling in front of his deep eyes. He seems even more charming up close.

“Can I, help you?” he asks and you’re snapped back into reality. Great way to start by looking like a lost puppy.

“Geto right?” your question comes out broken and unsure. The guy doesn’t even verbally respond, he just nods slowly.

“You look so familiar like the man of my dreams? Oh, wait u are. ” That didn’t even sound like a pick-up line, sounded as if you were genuinely wondering. Pure terror fills your body upon noticing Geto’s frozen and perplexed expression. Again, your body just seems to be working on its own, “I think there is something wrong with my eyes. I can’t seem to take them off you.” This is followed by another treacherous and painstaking silence for a response. With a deep breath, you shamefully utter the last one. “Are u a fireman because you came in hot and left me-“

“WOAH. Let’s pause on that.” the guy shifts from his stance from leaning against the wall to standing more upright. You’ve shocked this man to his core. Pure dread fills your body and you seem to sink into yourself in shame. This was utterly humiliating.

“I’m sorry.” you squeak, keeping your head down and spinning on your heels ready to sprint yourself out of the country, but a strong force stops you from going any further. I hadn’t taken long for the boy to realise you had been sent by your friends from behind the lockers. He felt remorse for you. Spinning you around on your heel, with just his hand on your wrist, you’re pulled closer. Only slightly; you still notice.

Precariously and teasingly he looks behind you at your friends, before redirecting his attention to you. “How do you spell me?”

This surprising question snaps you out of your trance.

“Wait what? M-E.”

“Wrong.” his lips pull into a playful smirk, yet your eyebrows knit in confusion.

“M-E-D.”

“M-E-D? but there isn’t a D is Me.”

He pulls closer, leaning towards your ears and savouring the moments of emptiness and silence “Yea not yet.” he chuckles lightly and pulls away. It's embarrassing how long it takes for you to understand the joke, but once it clicks, well the realisation is evident on your face as it flushes in embarrassment. The languid boy winks and walks away, “Loved meeting you pretty girl,” he calls out as he walks away, his voice carrying down the corridor, “hope to see you soon.”

Oh. Well, that was unexpected.

｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆｡

not my best work icl.

[crimeronan]

#the owl house#epic post i love their dynamic so much#a pair of shin kickers#also i love acknowledgments that Hunter genuinely liked Luz a lot and seemed to have a lot of fun with her#even when he was trying to be her ✨️Enemy✨️#if the show wasnt fighting its like to get every episode made without getting canceled and they got to stretch the seasons out more#luz and hunter could have had such a kim and shego dynamic#battling each other from opposite allegiances. thwarting each others plans. but also like#hunter: hey did you do something different with your hair? [blasting a death ray at her]#luz: [blocks it by using an ice glyph] i did :D!#hunter: looks good man looks good [tries to brain her with the head of his staff] (via @lollytea)

YOU UNDERSTAND ME LIKE NO ONE ELSE. YES

the idea of luz and hunter having a much slower-burn enemies to frenemies to friends arc gets me EVERY TIME. i would KILL for them to have more individual interactions between hunting palismen and hollow mind.

like i can so clearly imagine a stupid episode plot wherein eda is getting something fabulously illegal from the night market & hunter starts to shut the whole thing down & eda's like quick luz!! distract him he likes you

luz: he WHAT-?

eda: NO TIME FOR THAT, GO BE A SCRAPPY HUMAN FOR ME

(we stan a negligent crime owl mom. eda has never done anything wrong in her life)

luz and hunter start scrapping with a combination of vicious wild magic and even more vicious beating-the-piss-out-of-each-other, as they do, and they're clearly both having a great time with it. the tone is very low stakes, it's a fun battle but it's nothing like the amity-hunter in eclipse lake or the lilith-eda in agony of a witch, yknow. it's a friendly duel! that might incidentally kill one or both of them

then one of the spells from hunter's staff hits luz square in the chest.

luz shouts in pain and drops like a stone.

hunter freezes immediately, flashsteps over to her to see what the damage is. he's like, "how bad is-- can you sit up??" he's transparently anxious, hovering over her like an older brother who just saw a younger kid eat shit on their bike. maybe even takes off his mask for better wound-assessing visibility??

luz is like [weakly] "yeah, i think so." sits up very slowly. winces a lot about it. hunter visibly exhales in relief

BAM

FIST OUTTA NOWHERE.

LUZ CLOCKS HIM IN THE NOSE AND HOPS UP PERFECTLY FINE

hunter, clutching his face: AUGH - HUMAN -

luz, scampering off, cheerfully shouting back at him as she goes: hahAHAHA! YOU DO LIKE MEEEEE!!! :DDD

[hotluncheddie]

for @thefreakandthehair spring fanworks challenge! i chose the dialogue prompt “Listen, I’m a fern, okay? I need sunlight.” thanks so much lex for doing this again! so fun!!

(high school steddie, post s2 pre s3, 1.6k)

(now on Ao3 !)

🌱

Eddies Munson is the Marmite of middle ages female teachers. They either take his theatrics and short attention span in stride, seeing that yes he is trying he just needs things done a little differently. That he does genuinely think he’s funny when he spouts his little lines, the joke being aimed at the room and not at the teachers expense. That yes he is trying actually and does want to graduate, a lil’ help maybe? 

They either see that for what it is. Or, they hate his fucking guts. 

The theater teacher, much to his continued chagrin, seems to be in the latter. Which is abysmal, awful. Genuinely soul crushing for one Eddie munson.

Why? Because he needs to pass theater, with extra credit (for being ‘an integral and helpful part of the spring show’) in order to potentially scrape through and pass the year. Having to take senior year again you’d think some teachers would cut you a little slack, even to just see the back of you. But no, not in Eddie's experience. They fuck you over same as always. 

That's how he’s sitting out back on the theater building steps, dying for the cigarettes in his van. But he doesn’t wanna go over there. Can’t go over there, because he's dressed like a glorified shrub. 

‘Oof, what are you supposed to be?’

Oh how wonderful, beautiful, a truly glorious turn of events. Steve Harrinton is here. Eddie rests his face in his hands for a moment and resists the urge to scream. Steve Harrington in his stupid blue jeans and his new stupid glasses that he sometimes wears, which shouldn’t look as good as they do. Shouldn’t fit his stupid pretty face but they do. They do and Eddie wants to cry.  

Squinting up at Steve, who's haloed by sun rays because his giant, massive head is directly over the spring sunshine, Eddie sighs.    

‘I was supposed to be Puc, but noooo I'm the dry ass narrator with no creative freedom.’ He flings his arms up and glares down at the toes of his sneakers. Away from Harrington's big, stupid face. 

Because that's the real kicker. He likes theater, wants to be in the play, but whenever he tries to act the teacher just seems to think he's goofing off. And sure, maybe he took some creative liberties with the audition script. Maybe they’ve been in a sort of stalemate with the tone of voice the narrator should deliver certain lines in. But that's art, man! Interpretation! But the iron fisted Ms Farrel is having none of it. So Eddie has to take regular breaks to seeth.  

‘Puc? like hockey puck?’ Steve interrupts Eddie’s internal monologue, sounds actually confused. Oh to be pretty.

‘Listen, I’m a fern, okay? I need sunlight. so move outta the way would you. you're harshing my mellow.’ 

‘Geez sorry dude.’ Steve moves so he's next to Eddie, leaning up against the building wall. He messes with something in his jacket, moving it to the back of his jeans, then slips a pack and lighter out and lights up, talking out the corner of his mouth. ‘You want one? apology for the mellow? condolences for the outfit?’ 

Eddie rolls his eyes, fights down his smile. That was actually funny, maybe there were genuine reasons this guy was popular. Ones beyond generational wealth. 

‘Apology accepted Harrington.’ Eddie hums, plucks a smoke from Steve’s carton. Tries to steady his heart rate at Steve lighting if for him, leaning in and cupping his hand to protect the flame from the breeze and everything.  

Eddie inhales deep, closing his eyes to savor the taste. Feels a bit calmer now, less like screaming. ‘What are you doing here anyway? it’s Friday at 4, you not got fair maidens swooning for a romp with king Steve?’ Eddie peeks back over at him, sees Steve looking Eddies hand holding the smoke poised by his lips. 

‘Huh?’ Steve’s eyes snap up to meet Eddie’s eyes, ears tinting pink. Weird. 

‘You looking to score huh? Well, not right now, I’m wallowing.’ Eddie rubs at his eyes, glowers at the rustling of his costume.  

‘Oh nah, no, I needed some uh, extra credit. Had to talk to Ms. O’Donald.’ Steve pulls some rolled up papers out of his other back pocket and wiggles them. 

‘Ah a man after my own heart, I see.. Or are you just doing it to get into some Ivy League?’ Eddie cocks his head, sneers at the rich boy.

Steve just laughs, no anger. Scratches the back of his neck. ‘God no, I think I uh, missed the application deadline actually. Had, um, some health issues, so.’ He fiddles with his wire frames, looks embarrassed, maybe a little sad.

Eddie eyes him, The Fallen King. Steve Harrington. Eddie never really had that much of an issue with him. Always paid for his weed upfront and seemed to interact with Eddie with an air of vague boredom rather than, like, wishing Eddie was dead in a ditch. Plus there were those couple parties where Steve was wasted and spent some of the night just hanging around Eddie while he dealt. He was kind of a goofy drunk, kept asking Eddie what shampoo he used, refusing to take ‘whatever's cheapest’ for an answer. So, seeing him looking even slightly like a kicked puppy has Eddie’s “look out for people who know how cruel the world can be” radar going off. He doesn’t know the story but some shit went down with Harrington, you can't cover bruises like that.  

‘Well, don’t sweat it too much. Doubt anyones gonna start calling you four eyes. You’re still the cream of Hawkins crop dude, Ivy league or not.’ Eddie heaves himself up to stand, crushing the but of his cigarette out under his shoe. 

‘Plus, your extra credit looks like that.’ Eddie points at Steve's fist of papers. ‘While mine looks like this.’ Eddie holds his arms out, giving Steve a twirl and ending with a bow. ‘So cheer up buttercup.’

Steve dips his head and chuckles, looks up at Eddie through his lashes, grinning. It’s all sunshine and long days, sun warm skin and freckles. 

Eddie swallows and looks away. Bounces his shoulders against the brick. 

Steve clears his throat, mirrors Eddie’s positions against the wall. ‘Look, there is actually something I want to talk to you about. You run the D&D club right?’

Eddie hardens a little, see Harrington’s pretty chill, especially for the past year. But Hellfire is his baby. Eddie’s baby, full of Eddie’s people. 

‘I do.’ 

‘Right, so there's these kids I babysit and uh, they really like that game. They start highschool in the fall and I just wondered if you’d tell the other members to maybe keep an eye on them? Let them join and like, you know.’ Steve gestures vaguely to the school around them. 

Eddie can't help it, he moves so he’s back standing, facing Steve. Steve Harrington who just asked him to look out for kids, who he babysits for. Wearing glasses and looking like honey. While Eddie is covered in paper leaves and wearing what could honestly be argued as tights. What the fuck? 

‘Babysitter huh?’ Eddie smirks but sees the way Steve squares his shoulders and turns to face him, daring him to keep going. Eddie’s smirk softens to a smile. ‘I’ll let the guys know Harrington. Or, uh, recruit them myself if, you know, the extra credit doesn’t work out.’ And Steve smiles, understanding but there's no pity on his face. 

‘Thanks Eddie, appreciate it.’ Steve tugs on one of his leaves which makes Eddie blush because he's stupid and the straight boy in front of him is being nice. His name in Steve's mouth getting tucked away for a rainy day.  

‘Anytime.’ Eddie says quietly, finally noticing how close they’ve gotten. 

‘I’ll have to come see the play. Make sure to voice how “that narrator really puts on a show, truly spectacular”.’ Steve crosses his arms and brings a hand up to his chin, as if he's some snotty theater critic. Eddie snorts. ‘Butter up Ms Farrel for you.’ and Steve winks. Eddie's breath catching in his throat. 

‘I’d like that.’ Eddie rasps. Lame. Why is he so LAME. 

‘It’s settled then. See you front row.’ Steve smiles, boyish and charming. Eddie swears Steve's eyes flick down to his lips. But he's also willingly dressed as a tree so his judgment can't be trusted right now. 

‘Munson!!’ A voice calls from inside making Steve and Eddie jump, moving so they’re no longer standing almost toe to toe. Breaks over it seems. Eddie is definitely not looking forward to going back in there but, needs must. 

‘Well, uhm, duty calls.’ Eddie steps back. Giving Steve a little two finger salute, turning to go back up the steps. 

‘Break a leg’ Steve watches him go, a little amused glint to his smile. Eddie only trips over his feet a little ascending the stairs.  

Steve starts to walk backwards, towards the parking lot. He raises his voice slightly and Eddie stops in his tracks to listen. ‘Nice seeing you in a different outfit. You look a lot less scary.’ and that amused glint flashes in his eye, like he knows Eddie’s never really been scary at all. ‘I’ve been trying out a new look myself, sort of inspired by you.’ Steve winks again, turning on his heel and Eddie gets a full view of the light blue hanky shoved in Steve's right back pocket.

Eddie coughs, splutters, feels his brain fizzle and the blood in his body moves treacherously to one place. Sees Steve throw his head back and laugh as he walks away, must have heard Eddie choke on his own tongue. 

He needs a moment, slumping back down on the steps. Steve Harrington who babysits. Steve Harrington who's gonna come see his play. Steve harrington who might not be so straight after all. 

Maybe spring is his season.

[usetheeauthor]

I Still Get Jealous (MDNI +18)

• Possessive!Boyfriend!Arisu Ryohei x Sub!Reader

Summary: Arisu doesn’t like the idea of you spending time with mentor and friend, Chishiya, who’s assisting you on your PhD dissertation. He develops a possessive attitude which prompts you to prove your loyalty to him.

A/N: Thank you again, @amortentiaz for the request! I’m so glad Arisu’s getting some love! This is a spicy one with a fluffy, happy ending. Hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 3.2k+

Warnings: jealous!Arisu, angst, fluff, smut, sub/dom dynamics, daddy kink, graphic language, slight!tipsy/drunk Arisu, traffic light bdsm system, spanking, hair pulling, biting, markings/hickies, finger sucking, light degradation kink, brief nipple play, creampie, breeding kink, dacryphilia, orgasm denial/delay, p in v (unprotected), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, sex positions (full nelson, doggystyle, reverse cowgirl), lots of pet names (sugar, prince, baby and so on), fluffy aftercare/happy ending

They say there is no greater glory than love, nor any greater punishment than jealousy. Arisu’s love for you results in the consequence that he loathes seeing you with any other man aside from him.

It’s not like he’s unreasonable. He’s fine if you have guys friends…just not guys like Chishiya. It just wasn’t a fair fight. Chishiya’s really smart, a doctor, AND—the kicker— he was handsome.

And, sure, Arisu felt as if he had ‘2 out of 3’ of those things listed but what he felt really set himself apart from Chishiya was how cool Chishiya was. He didn’t have to try. Women and even men are naturally drawn to him just based on first impressions alone. Meanwhile, Arisu was an unsociable loser who would rather play video games for hours on end than strike up a conversation with a stranger.

Why did you have to choose Chishiya of all people to help you with your dissertation? And now you’re in a residency program working in close quarters with him, too?!

Arisu could see it now. He paces back and forth in the apartment the two of you shared creating hypothetical scenarios.

What if….One day, you and Chishiya are working in a room together when the two of you ‘accidentally’ touch hands. Next thing you know, the two of you are making out and ripping each other’s clothes off in a room meant for a patient needing heart surgery!

He shakes off that silly imagination. No! You wouldn’t possibly do something like that to him. You love him. You wouldn’t just cheat on him but what if….you broke up with him instead?! That way you wouldn’t feel guilty for being with Chishiya instead.

Arisu bangs his head against the island table in the kitchen when he decides to call his friends over for some drinks and very much needed advice.

“You should just tell her how you feel,” Chota begins. “You’d be surprised to recognize what you discover about yourself when you speak about your feelings with her. Shibuki and I are going strong because she taught me how to be more open.”

“No offense, Chota, but that’s pussy advice,” Karube remarks. “Whenever my girl does something I don’t like, I lay down the law. I put my foot down,” He slams his beer on the table for dramatic effect. “Works every time.”

“Is that so? Because last time I checked, she made you cry that one time she threatened to leave you. Didn’t see any laws being laid down.” Chota chuckles.

“Up yours, man.” Karube bites.

“You guys aren’t helping me feel any better,” Arisu groans. “The girl of my dreams is slipping away as we speak. For all we know, Chishiya’s already asking for her hand in marriage.”

“You could always try rebounding if she does dump you. What about Usagi?”

“No way! She’s only a friend. Y/n’s all I ever wanted. I’ve imagined my future and she’s always in it. I won’t let her go.” Arisu says, determinedly.

Chota pats his back. “Then you’ve gotta fight for that future, brother.”

Arisu nods, a lot more confident in his decision. With another shot of hard liquor, he plans out exactly how he’ll approach the situation with you soon as you step through the door.

—————

You turn the key in the door of your apartment and the first thing you’re met with is empty bottles of liquor. Arisu is sprawled out on the couch, asleep.

You smile, shaking your head, knowing that he probably was hanging out with his best friends. Removing your heels, you tiptoe over to him. Crouching down on your knees beside him, you place kisses all over his face until his eyes flutter open.

You soothe his hair, whispering a greeting. “Hello, my sleeping prince.”

Instead of being met with a smile, you were given a blank expression. “Hey.” He says, dryly, speech slurred.

“I’m sorry? Did I do something wrong?”

He sits up. “Where have you been? It’s late.”

“It’s 6:00 noon,” You giggle. “And you know I’m getting some help from Chishiya with my paper. It’s like 300 pages. I’m dying.”

“Chishiya, Chishiya. Seems like he’s all you ever talk about now,” Arisu chides. “Does he even know we’re together?”

“Where is this coming from, love?” You say, rubbing his arms with your soft, patient hands.

“You’re mine! Okay? You belong to me. We’re supposed to be happy and in love. I know I’m not this lady killer like Chishiya but I know that I can love you better.”

“Ryohei…baby,” You say, shaking your head in disappointment. “I am yours. You don’t have to compare yourself in any way to Chishiya. I don’t see him at all in the way I see you. You tilt my world off its axis whenever I’m near you. Even after two years together, I still get butterflies.”

“So you won’t leave me for him?”

“Never! You’re my sweet prince,” Still on your knees before him, you pry his legs apart to place yourself in between them. Leaning over his clothed cock, you lick a long stripe on the crotch area of his pants. “I love and serve you and you alone.”

He strokes your hair. “I wanna mark all over your body. That way when he sees them, he’ll know I’m the one responsible.”

“Please do, my prince.” You moan out.

He leans forward, capturing your lips and slips his tongue down your throat. Your fingers entangle in his dark locs, tugging him down to you when you felt like he was trying to pull away.

His hand collects your hair in a ponytail, pulling your lips away from his. “You don’t think I’ll let you off that easily, do you? I’ve been planning a punishment for you.”

“But I’ve been good.” You pout.

“Don’t pretend like you weren’t liking the attention from him? Like you weren’t trying to make me jealous,” He yanks at your hair again causing you to whine. “You like when I get like this, don’t you?”

You whine out again, squeezing your thighs together to suppress the throbbing between them.

He yanks your hair once more, growling. “I asked you a question.”

“Y-yes, I fucking love it when you punish me. Please fuck me.” You sounded absolutely wrecked and he hadn’t even begun yet.

“It’s gonna take a lot more begging than that to get what you want, sugar,” He lets go of your hair, patting his thighs. “Lay yourself across my thigh.”

You comply, lifting off your feet to crawl into his lap. Your plump ass perched up high enough for his hands to indulge.

“You remember your colors in case we need to stop, do you?” He asks while kneading your plush globes in his hands, marveling at its perfection.

You nod. “Green is a ‘yes’, yellow for ‘slow down’, and red is ‘stop’.”

“Good girl.” He purrs. Then, he pulls your panties to the side just enough to dip his longest finger into your sopping pussy.

You moan, clutching the couch cushion. “Fuck! That’s so good.”

“I don’t want to hear you.” He pulls out the glistening finger, shoving it into your mouth for you to suck on. With his other free hand, he slips two longer fingers into your core and pumps away.

You swirl your tongue around his finger, tasting yourself on it. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as his fingers deliciously flicked against a soft trigger within you. Your muffled moans get louder.

“You’re so loud. Quiet!” Pulling the finger from your mouth, he slaps the hand over your mouth. It’s clamped tight enough to assure your sounds aren’t heard. Of course, the action would also affect your breathing but somehow the lack of oxygen heightened pleasure to the point of euphoria.

You could hear your wet pussy squelch around his fingers, juices trickling down your inner thighs, onto the couch, and his khaki pants.

His erection pokes against your belly and, with you fucking back against his fingers, it begins to increase in its size. He licks his lips, lust splayed on his features while he watches you rut desperately against his fingers.

“You look like you want to cum, sugar?” He asks, mockingly.

You nod frantically, bouncing back against his fingers with rigorous intent. He’d long removed his hand from your mouth, you could’ve spoken up but with his skillful fingers buried so deep into you that was too much a challenge.

“That’s it, love. Use my fingers to get yourself off. So pathetic and desperate for it. Bet, you’re wishing it was my cock instead.”

His fingers do the famous ‘come hither’ motion within you and your legs begin to shake. You were on the edge, a stream of drool pouring from your tongue as you pant out like a dog. Your eyes cross and just as you’re within reach of the big one, he slips out of you.

You sob and scream your frustrations into the couch cushion, biting down on the fabric to keep from hurting yourself or him.

He sucks your arousal off his fingers, looking at you from the corner of his eyes while you glare at him. When he finishes them clean off, he smirks at you. “Sorry. But that was punishment #1.”

“#1? As in…there’s more?” Your voice trembling in fear.

“Uh-huh. And we’re going straight into your next punishment,” He strikes your asscheeks hard enough for you to feel it ripple. You hiss at the sting. “You’ve got 4 more of that to go, sugar. Count for me, please.”

Smack after smack, you’d count and your hungry cunt would throb in need in anticipation of his assault. You needed to be fucked badly. You’ll remain obedient. Anything to get him to finally give in.

He lands the final smack, the hardest of bunch. Your ass is as red as he hoped for. He soothes it, massaging each globe carefully.

“For your last punishment, I want you to suck me off. If you’re good for it, I’ll make you cum on my cock right after.”

You love how filthy Arisu’s mouth gets whenever he’s in the act with you. It’s a complete parallel to his usual shy and reserved demeanor. You slide off his lap enough so that you’re laying on your stomach over the couch seat, your hands in his lap. You fondled with the buckle of his belt then his zipper.

With your hand down his pants, you carefully pull him free. The thick two-toned length was hard to wrap your whole hand around the base. You flick a tongue against the pink head, collecting the salty precum on your tongue.

He moans, moving your hair out of the way so he can watch you take himself in your eager mouth. You lower your mouth over him, swallowing around him while he hits the back of your throat. Whatever your mouth couldn’t get to, your free hand would make up for it.

His head is thrown back against the couch overhead, enjoying the warmth of your mouth. You slurp up the excess saliva from his cock, spitting it back onto the base again and jerking him off.

“Ohh, babygirl,” Arisu groans. “Your mouth feels like heaven. I almost feel bad for the bastard never getting the chance to have you.”

You moan, sending the vibrations straight to his cock. You could suck his dick all day and never get tired. You’ve actually done that before while he played his video games.

“Shiiit! I’m gonna cum down your little throat.” He whines, thrusting forcefully with his hand cupping the back of your head. Then, he stills, cock rested deep enough to cut off your air supply as his warm essence shoots down your throat. You play with his heavy balls in the process, prolonging his orgasm.

“Fuckk yess.” He groans, feeling the way the muscles in your throat flex around him, swallowing every drop.

When you remove your mouth from his twitching member, he immediately places his lips on yours not caring to taste himself on your tongue as he sucked at it. You straddle him and sit directly over his stirring cock, drenched clothed core rubbing against the hardness.

He stands on his feet and carries you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist. It surprises you every day the strength he possesses in such a slender body.

“We’re taking this to the bedroom so I can fuck what’s mine properly.” He says.

“Please, daddy.” You plead, head rolling back when he sucks at your neck as he leads you to the bedroom.

He throws you onto the mattress. “Take those clothes off. Then, stay on your hands and knees.”

You follow his orders, pulling off your clothes so fast you nearly tore at them in impatience. You are on your hands and knees, back facing away from the headboard.

His clothes are off and you’re given a moment to admire his physique. He does the same, circling around you as if to decide what else he planned on doing to you.

Arisu disappears from your vision and you feel the mattress dip behind you. You feel the back of his knees resting against your calves, prompting you to glance over your shoulder. Arisu was laid on his back, your ass just inches from his jutting hard cock.

“I want you to fuck back into me like this. Show me how badly you want me.” He said it in a way that he’d hoped to sound authoritative but instead it came out sounding like a whine. He couldn’t help his desperation for you, especially when you were this dripping wet for him.

Shimmying back so that your glistening pussy rested over his cock, you rubbed yourself back and forth on it. You reach a hand down beneath you, grabbing his cock to tease your entrance before you let it slip in.

The two of you groan simultaneously at the feeling of you stretching around him. “Oh, fuck! Ryohei…daddy please.”

“Go on,” He smacks your ass. “Ride me.”

You mewl, taking him in all the way so that your ass rests on his pelvic area. You start off rocking slowly against him. You can hear the familiar squish of his cock penetrating you deeper and deeper with each in and out.

Gripping the sheets beneath you, you use the leverage to slam down harder against him. He lets out a strangled cry that cuts abruptly and you look over your shoulder to see that he’s biting his lips.

“Please let me hear you, daddy. I want to know that I’m doing good for you.” You moan, sounding already so fucked out.

“You’re doing amazing, sugar. Love seeing your ass from this view. Can’t believe you’re all mine.” He praises.

“Only yours.” You added, going fucking back into his even harder and the sounds of your plump ass colliding into him is thunderous.

“Shit, I can’t take it anymore.” He says. You barely register what he said until he sits up and brings your back to his chest, ass in his lap in reverse cowgirl.

Arisu takes your ankles in his hands, spreading your legs wide open. He plants both his feet against the mattress, jackhammering into your greedy wet hole.

“Oh, god!” You squeak, bringing your hand back to cup the back of his neck.

He takes this as a sign to litter your neck with hickies and you scream and writhe against him. He was too good. Expert level as if it were an actual game and the objective was to make you dumb on his cock.

Letting one ankle go, he tweaks a hardened nipple between his fingers as he fucks up into you. You begin to feel the familiar pressure build within you again and he senses this with how hard you clenched around him.

He drops his hand down between your legs rubbing your sensitive nub back and forth. “You’re getting so tight,” He whispers in your ear, teasingly. “You gonna cum?”

You felt a sense of panic rush through you. The mocking tone in his voice can’t be good. Was he really thinking of pulling away again? You began to cry real tears, nodding your head. “I’m gonna cum! Please let me cum, daddy. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’ll be yours forever. Don’t punish me!”

“Aww, sugar, I wasn’t going to take this away from you,” He pounds harder and rubs tight circles on your clit. “You… deserve it.”

Arisu punctuates the end of the sentence with two hard thrusts that hit against your g-spot. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, eyes widening as you squirt your juices all over.

This surprises him as well, a guttural groan escaping his lips. He throws you onto your stomach and pummels away from above you. “Gonna fill up your tight little pussy. I’m gonna get you pregnant and full so everyone knows I did that to you.”

You both knew you were on birth control because neither of you could afford to have a child at the moment. Nonetheless, you begged him to fill you with his seed and scream out to the top of your lungs how you’ll carry his babies.

A few dizzying thrusts has you biting into the sheets and without you even expecting it, you cum for the second time that night. Arisu cums a split second after you, moaning shakily as if he’s on the verge of sobbing. He trembles from above you, jerky thrusts into your core to give you all of his cum. He stills then collapses, weight on top of you and cock still buried deep as you shook against each other.

“Ryohei?” You pant softly.

“Mhm.” He says, unable to form a sentence.

“How are you this good?” You giggle in a euphoric state.

“I’d say it’s the liquid courage. I am still a little tipsy.” He admits with a chuckle.

“No, baby…that was all you. I fucking love you.”

“I love you more.” He retorts, breathlessly.

“Not as much as me.”

“Not possible,” He laughs, kissing your shoulder before pulling off and out of you. You whine at the loss, feeling cold without his warmth. You try reaching for him. “I’ll be back, love. Just gotta get a washcloth to clean you up…and some fresh sheets.” He says looking down at the wet puddle.

Arisu returns with a washcloth and fresh sheets as promised. He carefully cleans the sticky mess between your legs, planting a kiss on your thigh when he’s complete. While he lays down the new sheet, you find one of his hoodies to dress yourself in taking in his scent around you.

Curling into his naked body as the big spoon, you littered kisses on his shoulders. Then, a realization hit you to address your feelings, too. “I get kind of jealous, too, ya know.”

“You do? He asks, dumbfounded, turning on his side to look you in your eyes

“Yeah. I mean, whenever I see you with any other girl like Usagi, Heiya, or Kuina…I feel so petty. They’re my friends, too, and I know they wouldn’t hurt me that way. But they’re all so beautiful and—“

He cuts you off, kissing you passionately. “I belong to you just as much as the other way around. Remember that. No one gets me like you.”

You rest your foreheads against one another, cradling each other’s hands. You stare into each other’s eyes and listen to the sound of the rainfall pitter-patter against your window in time with the beating of your hearts.

Arisu has his friends to thank for giving such great advice.

[cripple-punk-dad]

Once again feeling emotions about God, Forgive These Bastards: Songs From The Forgotten Life Of Henry Turner by The Taxpayers. I listened to the whole album not really knowing the background or the story behind the title. I just loved the music and the artist's voices. But then I found the explanation by the main vocalist on the album, Rob Taxpayer, and:

"The first time I met Henry Turner I feared for my life. I remember the exact date – February 18th, 2007 – because the day before, a close friend of mine had unsuccessfully attempted to commit suicide in his studio apartment and I’d spent the entire night at the hospital. It was one of those terrible and typical Pacific Northwest winter nights where the rain seemed relentless and the gloom was contagious, and as I waited at a sheltered bus stop on Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard for the # 6 to arrive, a man approached me for a cigarette.

I shook my head and gave him a half-smile.

“Sorry. I quit a few years back.”

I stuck my head back into the newspaper I was reading, and he took a few steps closer.

“How about a buck and a quarter then? All I need is a dollar and a quarter and I’ll have enough for bus fair.”

I shrugged and fumbled around in my pocket.

“I’m using an expired bus transfer myself, but I might have a few extra dimes. It ain’t much, but if it helps, it’s yours.”

I passed him the change, and when he grabbed it, he ducked down to my level and looked me straight in the eyes.

“Look at me. Does it look like a few extra dimes would help? You think a few extra dimes would do any good to anybody? Take a look at me. I got a rotten heart and a bad shoulder and I ain’t slept a good night’s sleep in the past ten years, and you wanna know the kicker? I get fuckers like you tossing me their condescending extra dimes.”

He was tall and intimidating, with wild gray hair and deep wrinkle lines all across his face, and his eyes would occasionally roll up into his head, quiver, and then refocus. His thick, wet coat and his tangled beard had bits of crumpled leaves stuck to them, and he carried himself with the strange confidence of an angry and confused lion.

“And the best part about all of this is that I know you’re cheating me. And you know what I did to the last bastard that cheated me? “

He paused for a few silent, terrifying seconds.

“I bit his ear off.”

I almost pissed my pants. My brain was telling me, “get up and run”, but my body was frozen in fear, and I sat there shaking in excruciating silence. Sure, maybe he was harmless, but something about the look in his eyes terrified me. I could see the bus approaching from about a quarter of a mile away. I did the math. From that distance, it would be another minute or so before the bus arrived, saving me from certain death. I could try to fight back. But while he was an old man, he was an enormous old man, and anyways, you just can’t fight a crazy person. I could run. That was it. I was going to have to get up and run before he sunk his teeth into me, or pulled out a knife, or worse.

Suddenly, he burst into laughter. Not a maniacal laughter, but a booming, good-natured laughter, and his angry eyes became kind and warm. His snarl turned into a crooked smile, and he slapped me on the back like an old friend.

“Aw, I’m just fucking with you, kid. Ain’t much for laughs around here. You’ll have to forgive me.”

He held out his massive hand for me to shake.

“Henry Turner. Friends call me Hank. How ya doin'?”

I was still petrified. Was this some sort of a trick? Was he going to grab my hand and then snap it off like a tree branch? He looked me over and laughed again, reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a bus pass.

“Here. This one ain’t expired. Go on, take it, I got a whole stack of ‘em.”

And with that, the bus pulled up to our stop in the rain, the doors opened with a loud mechanical sigh, and Henry held out both his arms, outstretched, in the direction of the doors.

“After you, kid.”

I didn’t realize it at the time, but he was a semi-celebrity around town, although most people wrote him off as just another one of the crazy folks that told rambling, drunken tales – amusing for a few minutes, but best largely avoided. It was true, he had his demons, but he also had a magical brilliant quality to him, and whenever I ran into him around town, I’d end up spending a few hours with him, if for no other reason than to listen to his unbelievable stories. It didn’t really matter whether they were true or not, it was the way he told them, with absolute clarity and confidence, no matter how crazy they sounded. Some of it even checked out. He’d often talk about his years playing baseball with Georgia Tech, and the famous play-off game where he pitched a two-hitter in 1979. When I got home, I went on the internet and looked up the Georgia Tech roster from 1979, and there he was. Henry Turner. I’ll be damned.

The years went by. I’d leave town for months at a time, but when I came home I could always expect to run into Henry for the latest news and a ridiculous tale. Businesses closed and new ones opened, houses changed ownership, new faces arrived and old ones disappeared, but he was like an ancient marble pillar – unaffected by the changes around him. Or so it seemed. In the winter of 2010, three years after we first met, I ran into Henry on one of the downtown park blocks. He was disheveled and had these crazy eyes, and when he recognized me, he touched me on the shoulder and said something to the effect of, “Gonna go away for a while. You’ll hold onto something for me, yeah?”. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a huge stack of unused bus passes, thrust them into my hands, and walked away. It was the last time I would see him.

Henry Turner died on March 25th, 2010, a product of years of substance abuse and tough living. If a funeral was held I wasn’t aware of it. The news of his death hit me harder than expected, and it sparked an obsession: I began compulsively writing down every outlandish and unbelievable story he’d ever told me, as a sort of tribute. My band started working on an album of songs pertaining to Henry’s life. My nights were spent researching everything I could find about the Turner family. I would rant on and on to complete strangers about the whole ordeal. Then slowly, it began to subside. Life went back to normal. Though I never quite forgot about it, my utter entrancement with the Turners faded.

What follows is an amalgamation of the stories Henry told me, as best as I can remember them. I hope I did him justice. There are some embellishments and I took quite a few liberties, but like all good narrators, Henry knew that any story worth telling should be grand, significant, and a little bit false. It’s important to note that Henry was no hero, and I’m not trying to romanticize or defend him – as you’ll find out, he was a murderer, an abusive husband, an unapologetic addict, and a crook who was haunted by his most awful moments. But he was also at times a tender, loving father, a brave adventurer, and an amazing pitcher, who was surprisingly candid and an absolute charm to listen to. No person can be summed up by their worst actions. And despite his insistence that “forgiveness ain’t an inherent human quality”, that’s what this whole thing’s been about for me: the capacity to forgive someone’s most wretched moments.

Ultimately, I think that when Henry was at his best, he was something simple: a kind, strange friend" -Rob Taxpayer, from The Taxpayer's Bandcamp page

Look at me look me in the eyes: "No person can be summed up by their worst actions" I'm broken I'm dead I'm deceased. The last track on the album is an interview with somebody who knew Henry as a child. It's about remembering someone that nobody else thinks about it's about preserving the memory of the jerks and the assholes and the addicts because everyone deserves to be remembered and to have songs sung about them and have their stories told in whatever way they can be told.

[meltedbluecaterpillar]

Welcome to more Headcanons where I discuss clothing. Because it is fun for me. Today we will talk about Jade Leech and how in my mind he dresses like a serial killer; specifically Patrick Bateman. Just kidding. I will talk about that sort of fashion later. When I make these posts I plan to update them with another version of the character dressing in another way. But, let’s keep it short.

Subtle Punk/Grunge

Firstly, Jade has been confirmed in many ways to be more muscle than Floyd. So I like to personally picture him in tight fitting tops. His own mental mind game of showing you; “If I wanted to hurt you I would.” But of course image is everything.

I am desperately clinging to the Punk Jade we could have had in canon with piercings and body modifications but also… Going to a prestigious academy… Jade cares a lot about how he is seen by others on campus. The butler trope fits him very well, but what about off campus? I think he does wear subtle punk fashion when he’s out alone on the island. He loves the belts and black boots and how to layer shirts. All while asking some frightened looking cashier about what kind of mushroom spores they sell.

The reasons for the heavier fashion; A) I personally like it. And it’s okay to disagree with me. B) Jade is a merman, and in my mind their ability to regulate temperature isn’t the same as someone on land. So I would like to think that Jade has issues with cold weather. Please see his club wear card.

I get that camping can be something you need to layer for, but a coat, and a sweatshirt, and a turtleneck, and a wool(?) hat with gloves? He either has horrible circulation or mermen just have issues with cold weather. I think it’s the ladder. Jade also looks good in boots. Being in the Mountain Lovers Club, and even during the Camp event he looks good in boots. Combat boots and kicker boots are also something you usually will see with punk and more ‘aggressive’ forms of alternative fashion. He’s so used to wearing boots when he goes hiking that it feels more natural to wear something like that even on weekends when he’s out and about. Also, the heaviness is like extra weight so he can strengthen his legs. At least that’s what I think. He doesn’t seem like a jeans man but there’s also a lot of things Jade hides about himself. Now for a quick outfit!

Thrifted x DIY

I think he usually will wear things like this as it gets darker and he hangs out at underground music clubs where it’s mostly rock and alternative music playing. Now, Jade comes from money. Which can make him seem like a ‘poser’ because he is a nepo baby. But Jade also loves doing something and getting results. Like taking care of terrariums and discovering things in the mountains. I don’t think when he dresses like this he focuses on the best brand clothing wise. I think he wants to not stand out so I think he would go for darker colors while still having personality with his outfit. So I also gave him those nasty ass crust-punk jeans because I think he would have a pair he made himself and they probably smell like Fritos. He washes them… Sometimes.

Accessories… I can imagine Jade wearing small ones or thin leather bracelets with beads. But also at a music club, he probably would take time to make kandi to trade with some local emos. Rings would look nice on him. Especially big metal ones with chunky charms so if he gets into a fight, it’s like pseudo brass knuckles. He keeps it classy and clean while still upkeeping how he looks and is perceived. He wants to go all out. Shaved sides of his head and all. But he also fears… Something. I think he has to be seen a certain way for family reasons but also because of how he is seen at school. I think Jade… Lacks confidence to be himself. Even if he says he’s happy being a little weird and having such a pristine self image… Is he really? … It’s all my Headcanons and you don’t have to agree with me. But this is what I think.

[cowboyemeritus]

Il Suo Campione (Copia/Reader)

Chapter Two

Series Masterlist

Summary: Copia, for some reason, decides to pamper you a bit. (18+)

Content Warning: smut, graphic violence, minor character death

Read on AO3

Notes: Alright, we’re doing this. I’m taking the plunge and making this into a series. There definitely won’t be a set schedule for updates because of how my life works, so we’ll just have to see where this goes. I might also want to do oneshots/drabbles between chapters so I don’t get burnt out (*wink wink*). Feedback is always welcome!

Darkness. Boots thumping like your tiny heart. Through the slats in the closet door, you can just barely see them; four pairs of legs surrounding Daddy, who’s on his knees.

“Please, man,” he begs. “I can get the money, but you gotta give me more ti-“ One of the figures kicks him hard in the chest and he falls back, slamming into the wall. Someone scoffs as he sputters and wheezes. Your eyes begin to sting with tears, but you do as you’re told and keep quiet.

“I do not think you understand, man,” the kicker snarls. There’s a strange quality to his voice you can’t quite place. “You owe us. You are in no place to negotiate.” Daddy’s face twists with anger.

“It’s not my fault the deal didn’t work out!” The man laughs, but there is no joy in it. It’s blood-curdling.

“You think you are clever? That we would not find out about you pilfering our product for your own use? And now you lie to me?” He’s nearly screaming by the end. Daddy looks scared, and presses himself further into the wall.

“Look- Please, I’ve got a daughter. You can’t-”

“We are done here.”

One of the other men grabs Daddy by the hair, wrenching his head back. The silver blade of a knife flashes as it enters your field of view. Before you can even blink it plunges into his neck with a squelch. You want to scream, to throw up, but nothing comes out. The tears in your eyes spill over, hot on your cheeks. The blade is yanked out and blood begins to pour from the wound in Daddy’s neck, soaking into his shirt. He gurgles, a trickle of red running out of the corner of his mouth. The man lets go of his hair and he drops to the floor, twitching. His head is turned towards the closet, eyes meeting yours. For a moment, they are filled with a deep, primordial fear, and then nothing.

“Kid must be around here somewhere,” one of the men says. You feel your chest constrict, and clamp your hands over your mouth to keep yourself from breathing.

“Do not bother,” the man with the strange voice says. “We have more important things to worry about.”

You wake up in a world of hurt.

That’s not unusual. What’s a little weird is that you’re laying on the plush couch in Copia’s living room, a knitted blanket draped over your body. He normally has you taken to your apartment after fights. You remember falling asleep in the car, Copia insisting you rest your head in his lap. One of his minions must have carried you inside.

Did something happen while you were asleep? It’s not uncommon for things to go south after these events, whether it be the authorities catching wind of the operation or issues with an unhappy customer. There have been times where you’ve had to lay low for days, even weeks.

There’s humming coming from the kitchen. Copia, it seems, is alright at least. Your body groans in protest as you sit up, head throbbing. It feels like your tight braids are pulling the skin on your forehead clean off. Your mouth feels like it’s full of sand. On the coffee table, a glass of water and some pills catch your eye. You grab the water and gulp it down greedily, taking the suspicious-looking tablets in hand. As you saunter over to the kitchen, you catch a glimpse of yourself reflected in one of the large living room windows. The bruising has settled under your eyes in dark purple rings. There’s swelling around your broken nose, too, and pink welts decorate the rest of your face. One could easily mistake you for a zombie in this state. Based on the way you’re feeling, you may not be that far off.

You find Copia hovering over a pot, obsessively stirring some sort of sauce. It takes him a moment to notice you standing there.

“What are these,” you ask, holding out the pills for him to see. He gives you a confused look.

“Ibuprofen? What- Dolcezza, what did you think they were?”

You shrug. “From your brother.” Copia blinks, then shakes his head.

“Oh. No.”

Without further question, you pop the pills in your mouth. You have to step around Copia to get to the sink, refilling your glass and taking another swig. The cool water is like mana from heaven.

“Something go down?”

“Not at all. I thought we could, eh, celebrate your victory together.”

He dicked you down, AND he’s making you dinner? Tonight can’t get any better.

You know he has an ulterior motive of some kind, but choose not to question it for the time being. He adds a pinch of salt to the pot and stirs. With a spoon, Copia scoops up a bit of the sauce, gently blows on it, and then offers it to you. You can only sort of taste it with your nose plugged up, but nod in approval anyway. Copia made it; you already know it’s good.

After a quiet dinner, punctuated by the occasional comment from Copia about the fight, he’s able to lure you into his large, luxurious bathtub. The lights in the bathroom are low, a few lit candles providing some extra visibility. Smarmy Italian music plays from a portable speaker on the counter. After all the time you’ve spent with Copia, you recognize most of the songs on the playlist, though you don’t know the lyrics. You can’t help but roll your eyes at the thought that, knowing him, they’re probably all love songs.

The warm, soapy water does wonders for your aching muscles, and you find yourself leaning against his bare chest, eyes closed, as he massages an herbal-smelling shampoo into your scalp. Maybe it’s the wine you had with dinner, but his fingers are like magic. When he passes over a spot near the nape of your neck, a groan involuntarily slips out from between your lips.

“Feels good, dolcezza?” You nod silently, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. Copia chuckles, withdrawing. For a few tranquil moments, you lose yourself in the warmth enveloping your battered form. The veil of sleep begins to slip over you, your mind wandering into the realm of unconsciousness. When Copia’s hands dip below the surface of the water, the sound barely registers. Once he starts gently caressing your breasts, however, your eyes crack open. Already, a different kind of heat is pooling in your gut.

Copia presses an open-mouthed kiss to your neck, sucking and biting at the tender flesh. Without a doubt, he intends to leave yet another bruise on your body. You shudder, a groan rumbling in your throat. He gives your chest a squeeze and you can’t help but wriggle against him, feeling him hard against your back. With an unusual boldness, your hand snakes into the crevice between your bodies, grasping at his erection and giving it a few pumps. The angle is awkward and you can feel your shoulder protest, but when Copia moans quietly in your ear none of that matters. Your whole arm could snap off for all you care. He pinches your nipples hard and you gasp audibly, giving his cock a similarly firm squeeze.

“Oh, baby.” He’s never called you that before. Something about it sends you into a frenzy. Shifting, you sit up and turn to face Copia, kneeling between his parted legs, the soapy water sloshing around you. Grasping his manhood, you begin stroking him vigorously, hungry for every sound you can pull out of him. He throws his head back and you feel his hips buck into your touch. “Fuck.”

You want to devour him, to bury your teeth in his flesh and leave your own claiming mark. You know he’ll stop you before you can even try, but the desire lingers. Instead, you surge forward, capturing his mouth in a desperate kiss. You have to turn your head at an awkward angle to avoid crushing your nose, knowing your neck will be stiff in the morning. One of his hands finds your core, rubbing your clit in frantic circles, while the other palms at your breast.

An unfathomable amount of time passes like this. You are lost in the feeling of him, and in a moment of pure, unhinged delirium, you bite down on his lower lip. Copia completely falls apart, his cock kicking as he finds his release. There’s a tangy, metallic taste in your mouth, and when he pulls away you can see the tiniest red bulb on his lip. You’re so fixated on it that you don’t realize you’re still stroking him until he hisses, grabbing your wrist.

“Alright,” he laughs, chest heaving. “Let’s not get carried away.”

Some time later, you’re laying in Copia’s bed under buttery-soft sheets. He’s spooning you, one hand on your hip as his thumb traces circles into the flesh. It’s dark and quiet, both of you seemingly lost in thought. You feel featherlight, loose and floaty from the climax he has just pulled out of you. Your heart beats a little faster recalling the way he looked up at you from between your parted legs, a tenderness in his eyes you haven’t seen from him before. For the first time in… you’re not sure how long, you feel something that resembles contentment. It’s a foreign sensation, warm and fuzzy in your chest like the dying embers of a fire.

Suddenly, Copia rolls onto his back, groaning. You prop yourself up on an elbow to look at him, quirking an eyebrow in a silent question.

“My father,” he reveals, draping his arm over his eyes. “I have to meet with him tomorrow.”

So he needed a distraction.

You say nothing, lowering yourself back down. The fuzziness you had earlier is now gone, replaced by a dull sinking in your chest. You close your eyes and try to fall asleep but can’t, stuck on this evening’s events and what exactly this man’s game is.

Once you’re certain Copia is asleep, you sneak back to the couch.

[blueraineshadows]

Stay ❤️

Garreth Weasley x F!MC ❤️🌶 🔞 NSFW

Happy Weasley Wednesday 🦁❤️

The rain pattered consistently from a leaden sky that was darkening into night. MC shivered and held her sodden cloak even closer around her shoulders. She wiped at her face with the back of her hand, coating it in blood mixed with rain water. The cut on her eyebrow was still dribbling, blending with the rain to give the illusion of bloody tear streaks on her cheek.

Coming across the troll had been an accident. Her refusal to back down from a fight was entirely her own fault. Still, she was alive, and the troll was not. It was a win.

MC sighed. Maybe she was getting too old for this shit. Mid-twenties and still thinking she was a scampering teen. She ached and was hungry, cold and alone. The last one was the kicker. She was always alone. Again, something she only had herself to blame for. She had the unfortunate habit of pushing away people who cared for her.

Physical wounds healed. Emotional ones were terrifying, and they were harder to soothe.

Her boots splashed through puddles as she scurried along in the rain, her destination one that was a surprise given the later hour. Liar. Merlin, she couldn't even admit the truth to herself.

She opened the little wooden gate to the stone cottage and slowed as she reached the wooden porch. The green front door loomed before her, picture perfect against the backdrop of stone walls and lead paned windows, warm inviting light glowing from within.

Of course she was here. Isn't this where she always ended up when the lonely part of her ached so fiercely that her feet just brought her right to this door, and the man who lived behind it.

She knocked. Rain dripped from the hood of her cloak and the end of her nose. She brushed sopping tendrils of hair back from her face, although any attempt to look pretty was useless against the blood and rain.

The door swung open and there he was, Garreth Weasley, dressed in dark trousers and a maroon woollen jumper, his hair a chaotic tumble of red curls about his handsome face. Some of the tension was already slipping from her taut frame at the warmth and safety he exuded. She ached for it.

He peered out in to the gloom at her, his eyes widening in alarm as he took in her drenched, beat up state. "Merlin, MC," he said. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, fingers gently gripping her soaked cloak. "You're soaked! Get in here...come in and get warm."

She smiled gratefully and stepped across the threshold, his scent wafting tantalisingly under her nose as she passed him. His hands were already helping to remove the cloak, rain water dripping from her to soak his neatly swept floor.

"Your rug," she protested, glancing down. A violent shiver racked her and she folded her arms tightly about herself.

"No matter," he said, eyeing her. "Let's get your wet things off. Come on, I will find you something dry to put on. And then you can fill me in on why you're out in the rain adorned with cuts and bruises."

Relief washed over her. He didn't push for answers, just fussed over her, bringing her a towel and soft dressing robe. Tea was brewing in the pot and he had her sit near the fire, rubbing her frozen hands between his large warm ones.

She watched him through her lashes and lingering glances as he took care of her, admiring the line of his jaw, harder and even more handsome than their school days. There was some scruff growth there as though he hadn't shaved for a couple of days. She quite liked it and wondered how it would feel under her fingers.

Green eyes lifted to meet hers, and she tried to make it look like she wasn't staring, noting the way the corner of his mouth lifted into an amused smirk. "See something you like?" He winked. "Or, do I have something on my face? Oh gods, I havent got a troll sized bogey hanging off my nose have I?"

She huffed a small laugh, her gaze returning to his. His smile was warm, teasing, and her tummy did a somersault. Her hand moved without a second thought and scratched curious finger tips against his jaw along the scruff. "This is new," she said. "Are you growing a beard?"

Oh gods, the scratch of hair under her fingers sent spirals of flame up her arm. She felt her cheeks warming and withdrew her hand, squeezing it into a little fist in her lap. Her eyes however, they were trapped in a stare with his, and she found it difficult to swallow at the way he was looking at her. It was a stretched out few seconds as her heart flexed under the idea that he shared this shockingly fierce fire she felt.

Every time she was near him, this fire seemed to grow and consume her. It drew her back here again and again, any excuse to be in his company, and each time she would get overwhelmed by this need for him.

Inevitably, her fear would talk her out of trying to claim any of it, to reach out and risk the burn, and then she would leave. It was always a wrench to be parted from him, and yet she always left.

She kept coming back, though. Deep inside she feared the day that she would come and there would be another witch here, someone who had been brave enough to embrace his warmth for her own. When that day came, she feared she might shrivel to nothing, cold and empty.

She lowered her gaze from his and looked to the flickering dance of fire in his grate instead. Coward.

"Let me get something for that cut on your eyebrow," he said.

She let him touch her face as he cleaned up her wound, his fingers gentle, her gaze drawn to him despite turning away from him just now. Up close like this, she could almost count the smattering of freckles over his nose, she watched the way his throat moved as he swallowed or spoke. And, helplessly, she stared at his mouth, wondering if those lips were as soft as they looked.

"I wish you wouldn't look at me like that," he murmured.

Her eyes flew to his, surprised. "What...look at you like what?"

He gave her a look suggesting she knew perfectly well what sort of way she had been staring, and heat flooded her cheeks. She squirmed a little in her chair.

"It's very distracting," he said. "Now, keep still. I'm almost done patching you up."

She felt the need to change the subject, lighten the mood. "You should see the other guy," she smirked. "Not much left to patch up."

His look was one of worry rather than humour. "I can well imagine," he said. His hand stilled before moving lower to her cheek. His thumb grazed along her cheekbone, the barest touch, and her pulse flickered and sped up. His gaze was intent, and she could hardly breathe.

"It scares me you know, the way you get into these scrapes. I'm worried that one day, you won't come knocking on my door anymore, and I will never see you again. Every time I patch you up, I'm scared it will be the last."

Well, fuck! So much for trying to lighten the mood. She stared at him, her feelings a blistering whirlwind in her chest. Her hand gently touched the back of his, fingers moving to grasp his wrist.

Kiss him you idiot! He is literally right there, and if that wasn't a confession of caring about you, then what else was it?

But what then? They kiss? He carries her into the bedroom? Gods, the very thought of it makes her thighs clench something fierce. She is so starved for it that she leans forward, just a fraction. She can almost taste the sweetness of that first kiss...

But then her stupid, stupid brain starts flinging doubts at her. What if its a mistake? What if it ruins this special friendship they have? Losing that would cripple her, its the brightest thing in her life, the loss would be intolerable to bear.

And, he had said himself. He worries for her, doesn't like how she jumps into danger without a second thought. But, that's who she is. Give her a fight to face down any day of the week, and she is right there, wand in hand, ready to kick some ass.

But putting her soft, stupid heart out there with the potential for it to shatter. Nope. Up slam the walls.

"Don't worry about me, Garreth," she said, attempting a lighthearted smile. She moved his hand away from her face, stroking the back of it to ease the rejection of his touch. "I'm tougher than I look. And, I am getting better at trying to avoid trouble. It just seems to find me sometimes, that's all. I'll be okay."

His smile was not very successful at hiding the disappointment clouding his eyes. She felt it like a club to the chest. Why was she so good at shoving people away?

He still made her some food though, and the conversation turned to lighter chatter as they ate. Her hair was drying out, his dressing robe cosy and warm against her bare flesh. Colour returned to her cheeks and she stifled a yawn.

"I'm sorry for disturbing your evening," she said. "Maybe I should get out from under your feet."

He looked at her. "Stay," he said. He nodded towards the stairs. "You can take the bed. Stay and get a decent night's sleep somewhere safe. I can take the settee for the night."

"You've already done so much..." She began to protest.

He held his hands up. "And you can let me do more," he said, firmly. "You look tired, and you're thinner than the last time I saw you. Let me take care of you, please. At least for tonight. Sleep, rest and you can be on your way after a proper Weasley breakfast in the morning. Deal?"

His gaze was firm. She opened her mouth to protest again and he pointed a finger at her. "Don't make me use my wand, MC," he warned. Mischief glittered in those green eyes. "Don't think I won't. I'm not above making you stay here. Who knows? Maybe I've already slipped a few drops of sleeping draught in your tea."

She eyed her mug suspiciously and he chuckled. "I haven't, but don't tempt me."

A smile tugged at her lips. Playful Garreth was much easier than intense Garreth. "Next you'll have me tied to the bed post with no escape."

Immediately she flushed. The image of it a lot more sinful in her head than she intended the joke to sound. She watched his own cheeks redden, his eyes widened, but he recovered quickly.

"You need only ask," he said. His cheeky wink nearly tipped her over an edge she had been deliberately avoiding.

He got up, collecting their plates to take to the sink. "I'll get you something to sleep in once I've cleared up," he said.

"Let me help," she said. Her voice sounded strained and she needed a distraction from the throbbing need that was starting to consume her.

Part of her fancied testing him. If she tried to make a run for it, would he drag her back and tie her up, or would she really have to ask? Fucking hell, would she ask? Did she want that?

They washed the dishes and he went upstairs, her trailing behind him. He opened a chest and rummaged around, digging out a Gryffindor Quidditch shirt with a cheeky grin. "Fancy sleeping in this?"

She smiled and took the soft cotton shirt from him. "I remember you wearing this," she said. She pressed it to her cheek without thinking. "Wow, this takes me back."

"Makes you wish you could go back, doesn't it?" He said, wistfully. He tugged gently on a lock of her now dry hair. "At least I knew where you were every night back then."

Her breath caught in her throat. Did that mean he thought about her at night back then? Her heart sped up and she clutched the shirt in her hands. An overwhelming urge to feel him swept over her and she pulled him close for a hug.

"I don't deserve you Garreth Weasley," she said. "You've been an amazing friend to me. I wish I could say the same about myself, but I'm afraid I'm rather rubbish at it, aren't I? You're too good for me."

His arms held her about the waist and it felt safe. Warm. It felt like she belonged there if she was being brutally honest. Her head nestled against his chest and she sighed. "I will try to be better," she promised. "I owe you for everything you've ever done for me."

"You owe me nothing," he said into her hair. "I do it because I want to."

Her heart thudded against her ribs, thudded against him. If only she was brave enough to give it to him.

She slipped from his embrace, her eyes skipping shyly from his. "Thank you."

He nodded, looking down. "If you need anything else, just give me a shout. I'll just be downstairs," he said. He moved for the staircase, paused and looked back. "Goodnight, MC."

"Goodnight," she whispered.

....*....

Sleep was a distant dream far out of reach. MC lay under the blankets in Garreth's bed listening to the rain tapping against the glass of the window. Overwhelmed by the scent of him on the sheets, wrapped in his blankets, wearing his Quidditch top, and the man himself at the bottom of the staircase - it was slowly driving her towards the edge of her restraint.

Her body was coiled like a spring, desire was a wicked temptress tugging in all the right places, and she rolled over for about the millionth time. She eyed the top of the stairs. It was dimly lit below by the last dying embers of his fire. She wondered if Garreth was asleep, and tried to picture his tall frame sprawled along his settee. There was no way that was comfortable, and she felt bad for kicking him out of his own bed.

Yeah, thats the reason she was considering getting up for, and telling him to come up here.

MC sat up, pushing her hair back from her face and sighed. No, she couldn't. He might reject her. She lay back down. She smoothed a hand across a pillow. His pillow. She buried her face into it. Hugged it to herself.

Oh, fuck!

Blankets thrown back, her bare feet hit the floorboards and she padded quietly to the stairs. Wearing nothing but his Quiddtich shirt, she descended the steps into the room below.

He was indeed sprawled along the sofa, and it definitely didn't look comfortable. She paused at the bottom of the steps, her fingers toying with the hem of his shirt that barely grazed the tops of her thighs. It was utterly scandalous and very arousing.

He twisted his head up, eyes blinking sleepily. "MC...everything okay? Can I get you anything?"

Her lips twitched upwards. He was always taking care of her. She moved away from the stairs and into his line of vision. He sat up, pushing his hair back from his face. In the dim glow of the dying fire, his eyes glittered. She could see the way his gaze travelled slowly down over her as he swung his legs around to sit up properly. He slowed to a stop, his lips parting a little at the sight of her bare legs.

"Um...you erm..." He fluffed his hair again and blew air through his lips. "Blimey, MC. That's quite a sight."

She tilted her head, fingers brushing nervously against her thigh. "Good sight or not so good?" She teased.

"Good, definitely good," he said, nodding. He was staring, his hands fidgeting.

MC stepped closer towards him and he visibly swallowed. He looked nervous and it was quite arousing. It made her feel a bit bolder. She took hold of one of his hands and put it on the outside of her thigh. "Gods," he whispered.

She was breathing a little faster, desire pooling thick and fast at the feel of his hand there. His touch was feather light, gentle, as he swept the pad of his thumb against her leg. She nudged his hand, sliding it a little higher until it was right at the hem of the shirt. Having his hand so close to where she ached for him was excruciating.

He watched her do it, a shaky sigh leaving his mouth and then he looked up at her. She met his gaze and smiled, wanting him to know that she was okay with this. It was what she wanted. He slid his hand up higher, his warm palm gliding up to her hip, their gazes locked on each other until he gasped. "What the...bloody hell, MC! You're...you're naked under there!"

She chuckled and flashed the hem of the shirt upwards quickly. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Oh, fuck," he hissed.

Pressing him back into the sofa, she climbed onto his lap, knees straddling his hips. He immediately took her hips into his grasp, his breaths ragged as she settled. She braced her hands on his shoulders and sought his lips, hungry to taste him.

He uttered a low moan at her kiss, his grip on her hips tightening. Her name fell from his lips in a cherished whisper as she pressed soft kisses across them. Soft, perfectly soft, and very, very kissable lips.

"Do you want me?" She asked, softly.

He groaned. "Yes, yes, I do," he said. He pulled her against his lap, urging her to feel just how much. She rolled her hips, grinding against him and his head tilted back, his eyes squeezing shut. "Oh, gods. Yes, I want you."

Deep kisses, the kind that made your toes curl, tongues sliding and swirling, drawing moans and gasping breaths from each other. MC savoured the feel of his hair between her fingers, tugging it so that his head was tilted back for the perfect kissing angle.

His hands slid up to her waist, taking the shirt with him. He broke the kiss to look down, biting his lower lip. "You look so fucking sexy in this shirt," he groaned. He gripped the fabric tightly. "I'm almost tempted to make you keep it on."

She grinned. "I could do that."

"Hmm, well then I won't be able to get a good look at these," he said. He slid his hands up under the shirt to cup her breasts, palming them eagerly, his thumb and forefinger pinching playfully at her nipples. He groaned and shoved the front of the shirt up. "Gods, gimme a bite."

Delighted laughter fell from her lips as he took a peak into his mouth, sucking firmly, his tongue teasing before he bit gently into the tender flesh. Her hand gripped at his hair, her breath hissing through her teeth. He moaned appreciatively, his hands moulding both breasts again. "Delicious," he said, licking his lips.

Desperate to feel more of his skin, MC tugged impatiently at his shirt, so busy concentrating on his buttons that when he slid his fingers playfully through her slick folds she cried out, her hips flexing instinctively.

He chuckled. "Liked that did you? Do you like this?" He swirled his fingers up and around, spreading her slick over her clit. She forgot about his buttons for a moment, her forehead leaning against his as his fingers worked up a tight little rhythm. She moaned, rocking against his precise touch. "Tell me," he whispered. "Tell me it feels good."

"Y...yes," she whispered. She was lost in the sensation of his fingers, and when he slid one inside, shifting his hand to rub and fuck, she gripped at his chest. "Fuck, yes!"

"Yes, that's it, moan for me. I want to hear you," he said. The low, demanding tone of his voice was sending white hot flares of heat along the edge of her control. He added a second finger, curling them so perfectly that she was gritting her teeth. She rutted shamelessly against his hand, losing herself in his touch.

"Garreth," she gasped. Fisting her hands in his half undone shirt she moaned desperately, shuddering and grinding until she was clenching tightly around his fingers, all the pent up ache releasing in a wave of fire.

He groaned and looked at his hand, his fingers. "Fucking hell, that was hot," he murmured. He then put his fingers in his mouth and sucked. Her mouth fell open in shock.

Something extremely feral exploded inside her. Her hands were greedy and grabby as she yanked at his shirt. He yelped in surprise as buttons pinged loose and clattered onto the floor.

"Whoa..." He cried. She was tugging his trousers open and shoving them off his hips.

"Help me out here, Garreth," she panted. "I wanna fuck you senseless."

The sound he made was like a delighted, shocked laugh, and then he was pushing his trousers and underwear down, she knelt up to get out of his way. And then he was burying his face into her stomach, his head disappearing under the shirt to run his tongue along her heated skin.

She felt the silky hardness of his arousal against her thigh and reached for it, he groaned, looking down to watch as she fisted her hand and worked on him. "Oh, fuck yes," he groaned.

She lined him up, pressing kisses to his face, and sighing in relief as she slid down onto him. She lifted and rolled her hips a little, adjusting to the deeply satisfying size of him. "Garreth, that feels...oh gods...you feel amazing," she said.

She had him as deep as she could get him, her legs widening further, greedy for it all. He held her tightly against him, his head leaning against her, looking down at where they were joined.

"Give me a minute," he said, tightly.

She slid her hands through his hair. "Are you alright?"

"Brilliant," he said. "I just want to savour this for a moment before I lose my fucking mind."

She giggled, the movement making her walls flex around him and he groaned, his hands tightened on her waist. "Oh, shit, don't laugh," he said.

She smirked and clenched her walls around him, teasing him.

"You little minx," he moaned.

She tilted his head back, and she kissed him, tasting his mouth slow and sensual. She whispered against his lips. "What, no teasing jokes, Weasley? Isn't that your specialty?"

She gave a gentle roll of her hips and savoured the look of pleasure on his face, the low moan he gave her. She wanted to make him feel good, she wanted all of it. His hands slid round to cup her backside, squeezing her gently.

"You want jokes?" He said. He screwed up his brow, trying to think as she rolled her hips again and he swore under his breath. "How about this then...oh gods...how about I teach you a new spell?"

She bit down on his lower lip, riding him slow and teasingly. "A new spell?"

He smirked. "Mm, yeah, the one where you make my cum disappear."

MC stilled, processing what he just said. She looked down at him. He had the most ridiculous grin on his face. He was too much. A snort of laughter left her lips, more laughter bubbling up her throat, the force of it making his arousal slip from her. He groaned at the sensation as his own laughter tumbled from him.

She clung to him, giggling, a burst of warmth and happiness wrapping around her like a glow. He was an unbelievable goof, utterly adorable and the light of her life. "Bloody hell, Weasley," she giggled. "I fucking love you."

They both froze, their laughter slipping away. She almost gulped and looked down at him. "Um...I..." She stuttered, a blush flooding her face.

"Please tell me you meant that," he whispered. His eyes were wide, strained.

Her heart thundered in her chest. She smoothed his hair back from his face and swallowed back the sudden burn of tears that were gathering. She nodded. She really loved him. "I meant it," she said. A tear escaped and slid down her cheek. "You have my heart."

She gasped as he crushed her against him, his breaths quick and hot. "I love you, too," he said, fiercely.

....*....

The rain had stopped and weak morning sunlight was creeping up and in through the bedroom window. MC stirred, the reassuring weight of a freckled arm about her waist. She smoothed her hand along it, snuggling back even closer against his nakedness.

She loved Garreth Weasley. The truth of it overwhelming but so right now that it was out in the open.

She smiled sleepily as she felt warm kisses on the back of her neck. He shifted to press more to her shoulder, his hand sneaking up to give her breast a playful squeeze. "Mmm, hello," he mumbled against her neck. "Gods, I love these."

She giggled and twisted around to look up at him. He kissed her. "Good morning," he whispered.

She traced his mouth with her finger. "I believe you promised me a Weasley breakfast this morning," she said, quirking an eyebrow.

"Hungry are you?" He nipped at her finger.

She slid a hand down, teasing her fingers over his hip and down his thigh and nodded. "I am, but I quite like the idea of a different kind of Weasley breakfast...if you get me."

"Oh, I get you," he said. He pulled her hips in nice and close. "Trust me, you will not be moving far from this bed for the foreseeable."

She smiled and kissed his nose. "You won't even have to tie me up to keep me here...not unless you want to, of course."

The look in his eyes stole her breath. "That could most certainly be arranged."

She forgot about her hunger, and the promise of breakfast. Who cared about food when he was kissing her like this?

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Hello! Me again, back to pester you about lore.

So what's going on with The Drifter? For once I know a little about the character, I read 'A Man With No Name', but I still have questions. From how the book read, Drifter convinced Felwinter to get revenge for the destruction of the village. Did that go anywhere? And what did Drifter get up to for the (unspecified very long) timeskip between the book and the game?

And with the modern day, does the Vanguard know he's running a fighting ring out of the basement? Or does every single guardian look away when Zavala tries figuring out where people keep getting these weapons? I guess first rule of fight club and all that. What's he even trying to do? He seems to be pretty against most of the Vanguard's leadership.

Anyway, another invitation to infodump about your other blorbo. I hope you don't mind XD

If you thought I was long-winded about Eris... She's maybe 400 years old whereas the Drifter may be 900... get comfy... this will not be quick.

"Dark Age was wild times."

I adore the Drifter and a good chunk of how and why I adore him is his voice - both the voice acting and the syntax/diction/phrasing used in the writing, but voice alone does not cover why I find his character so utterly enthralling and fantastic.

I wrote a short piece consisting of Eris telling Ikora what she sees in him in my story Finders Keepers. It's basically a personality analysis and some people have (I think probably accurately) accused it of being a love letter to that character. (Reminder: that link is fanfiction - I wrote it - it is not lore, but it is based on lore. However, everything else I list after this is actual lore.)

But, personality aside, ultimately the Drifter's story is what I find most compelling about him and makes him so empathetic. You mentioned you've read A Man with No Name, but there's more. A lot more.

To start, the Drifter is D2's most violent pacifist.

He doesn't want to fight and when he does, it's vicious. The Emissary of the Nine, formerly Orin (his ex-best friend and/or ex-lover, depending upon how you read it) aptly says "He hates violence. He hates it so much he'll murder anyone who tries to inflict it on him."

In A Man with No Name, we see him go from hiding in a town and having it obliterated by warlords, to running a bar at the bottom of Felwinter peak, to getting Lord Felwinter himself to avenge the town. Drifter doesn't fight anywhere in there and gets other people to do his fighting for him, which is a pretty standard tactic for him. And yes, it is strongly implied that Felwinter does indeed murder the fuck out of Lord Dryden when he says "Call Lord Dryden. Prepare my Iron Banner arsenal."

But then we get Dark Age Drifter entries where he's gunning down Fallen attackers with quotes like "He had never brought himself to shoot a human. Or anything even resembling a human. Risen included." (Bonus mention: notice "Alright" repeated here and compare to his standard Gambit opening of Alright, alright, alright...") Where he's slipping away from non-violence, specifying, in particular, that he won't shoot a human but will defend himself from aliens.

And then he becomes something else entirely in these amazing entries with what I've been calling his Breakneck crew:

Now Otto's a Sword man. He's all about "craft." Technique. Precision. It's disgusting, but I don't care how he does it, as long as it gets done, so I just let him do it. And Otto does it so beautifully that, when he's done, you're standing there holding your guts in your hands and thanking him for the show.

Never touches a gun, that girl. She likes to get close. Likes to look right in their eyes and be the last thing they see.

The chumps that run out to stop us are babies. That's the kicker with Warlords—other than ours, there's not a Ghost in sight here. Just civilians who can barely hold their guns without wetting their pants, who can't aim worth a damn, who stick their necks out for the bad guys with eternal life. Real geniuses.

Cenric stood up. That vein of his looked about ready to pop. Drifter let his feet down as he reached for his rifle, asp-quick. "And you know what we do with rats, don't you, brother."

And the thing I love about this is the character development this speaks to where he goes from pacifist who won't fight at all... to someone who will use a machine gun competently, repeating "Alright" and getting himself used to killing, but not humans, never humans... to stone cold vicious murder-Drifter talking about the lightless who die to his crew in ways that make them (and himself) seem no longer human, to gunning down his own crew, people he felt were a perfect team, when they make deals with warlords behind his back and lie to him about it.

The Drifter started out adhering to an ideal of nonviolence and it destroyed him and everyone he cared for. His sense of self, his principles, everything he believed in is eroded until he completely loses all hope and in order to survive the cruelty of the world he lives in he becomes a ruthless monster.

Either before or after his Breakneck-era crew (it's not clear), the Drifter (under the name Eli) joins the Pilgrim Guard, a group of Titans protecting lightless people as they travel to the Last City. He does this out of a desire/need to be near Orin, a Titan with a complicated past and strong ties to both Queen Mara and the Nine. But then after spending time with Eli/Drifter and the Pilgrim Guard, Orin, the one person Drifter's ever had a deep human connection with, the person he considers his best friend, leaves without a word.

It's very telling that the green snakes, the jade coin, and the red string on those same coins that form such profound parts of the Drifter's symbolism and identity all come from Orin. When the Drifter truly cares for someone, he incorporates part of them into himself, into his identity, making them part of who he becomes, so they live on inside of him.

After his time with Orin, we get into the extremely confusing, contradictory mess that is the Drifter's intersection with Shin Malfur-related Rose/Thorn/Lumina lore. And by this I mean that the Drifter, after fighting alongside people doing genuinely noble good work, in the wake of losing Orin, leaves the Pilgrim Guard and eventually ends up joining the evil cult of evil: following in the footsteps of one of the most reviled risen to ever exist - the guardian-killer: Dredgen Yor.

If you're gonna hang with me, you need to know about the Shadows of Yor. They follow the edicts of a very bad man named Dredgen Yor. And what're his Shadows after? Everything the Light can't provide. I thought they could help me find an answer to the battles of Light versus Light that raged during the Dark Age. But the longer I flew with them, the more I saw they're blind as all those who follow the Traveler. One albatross for another. I was done with 'em.

And while in the cult, in some sort of ritual, he communes with the Darkness directly and gets some sort of Darkness powers (possibly Stasis, possibly something else - it's super unclear) and the Darkness whispers to him his Dredgen name: Dredgen Hope, which is particularly brutal in context with this quote from Dredgen Yor himself:

I care only to give hope to the frightened, huddled masses so that when I come upon them they will have more to lose. Their pain will be greater. Their screams more pure… Nothing dies like hope. I cherish it.

But it is also particularly pointed because hope is the thing the Drifter doesn't have. Trust is the thing he doesn't have the ability to do any more because of his experiences (and is also the name of the hand cannon he wears shoved into his pants). He is the most jaded (literally - constantly fidgeting with a jade coin) character in the D2 universe. He loses everything and leans in on it and follows that path to full evil.

And then he walks away. Because evil doesn't work for him either.

But also (either before or after he's completely left the cult - it's ambiguous, but possibly when he's still entangled but it's already fracturing and falling apart) he finds Orin again (he's using the name Wu Ming at this point - either having returned to it, or because he hasn't changed it yet from Felwinter Peak, or perhaps this happens before Felwinter Peak - the order and timeline is somewhat fuzzy).

Orin does not remember who he is when he finds her the second time (she's pretty nuts at this point - her story is filled with madness and tragedy), and is going insane with grief over losing Namqi (the person she left with when she disappeared the first time) as well as her obsession with the Nine. And the Drifter is once more drawn to her and once more connects deeply with her:

Wu Ming leaves his questions by the wayside as he is drawn inexorably into the gravity well of her desperate honesty. Her confessions lower his defenses. He talks of himself. Of his fear. Of his loneliness. How he feels he is one fingernail away from plummeting into an abyss. How he feels vicious resentment every time he is brought back from the dead: He never asked for the gift of the Light... They make excuse after excuse to meet again. Every conversation is colored by excavated truths; every day they feel they will reach some bedrock that will break them to pieces. It is as frightening as it is intoxicating.

But then Orin finds out about him being a Dredgen, terminates their relationship, goes off to become the Emissary of the Nine and, as someone I was talking with once referred to it: 'it was a breakup so bad he had to leave the solar system.'

Things go very poorly the first time the Drifter loses Orin but the second time is far worse. He has a full-on Lovecraftian 'At the Mountains of Madness' style horror-movie-plot experience with a crew he calls his 'best friends' (which may or may not be all ex-Dredgens but there's at least evidence they might be) out on a frozen planet being stalked and driven to insane levels of paranoia by Darkness creatures able to snuff out their light:

I think I mentioned we're all raving psychos at this point. Well, we did what all measured raving psychos would do. We thought we each had been betrayed by the others. We drew on each other.

The Drifter kills them all to keep them from killing him (at least, that's what he says - no one else is alive to argue). Then his ghost, who up until now has been kind of a moralistic asshole, suggests he hunt down the ghosts of his former crew and Frankenstein them together in order to survive:

And the craziest thing happened. My Ghost snapped... But we would need parts. Ghost parts. And we knew where we could get some... The Ghosts of my former crew all fled as soon as their charges hit the dirt. So me'n mine, we hunted them... "Hey. There's always hope. For what it's worth, I'm proud of you." It was the last thing my Ghost ever said, and the last lie it ever told.

The Drifter's ghost is rendered mute from the experience (either mechanically or due to the trauma of hunting down and murdering other ghosts - it's not clear) but the plan works, they survive, and the Drifter builds the Derelict out of scrap, returning to the Tower where he sets up Gambit.

It's super unclear (again, the Shin-related lore is just a mess and deliberately confusing) but it turns out that Drifter going on about how the Man with the Golden Gun is out to get him is actually a deal he made with Shin to set up Gambit (because, spoiler: the leader of the entire Dredgen cult, Dredgen Vale, turns out to be none other than Shin Malphur, the Man with the Golden Gun, who hunts Dredgens and who the Drifter has been saying is out to get him this entire time) to draw out the truly Darkness-corrupted guardians so Shin can kill them. (And this is ultimately why the Vanguard lets him run a fighting ring in the basement - because Shin convinces them it will help find the truly bad guardians so they can be eliminated).

If you find that confusing, that's because it is. Anything to do with Shin Malphur/Dredgen Yor/Rose/Thorn/Lumnia is pretty much an acid-trip, continuity-wise. It hurts my brain.

As for where the Drifter gets the weapons he gives us for Gambit? To the surprise of no one, he's stealing them. Because of course he is. It's him.

While running Gambit, he ends up visited by the Emissary of the Nine (formerly Orin - same body, different person) and has the Haul attached to the Derelict as a 'gift' in this amazing cutscene: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wFtmr___dSw

And he pretty much stays in "shifty morally ambiguous guy in the basement" mode until Arrivals when the pyramids show up on Io and we get one of my favourite lore tabs in all of D2: Whispering slab.

The two sit. They speak. They listen. Linkages forged in Light and Dark of traded secrets as the Derelict hangs in orbit around the Earth. Pacts are made. Soon, there is only the silence of knowing left between them.

"Next time you fly over the Moon, dust your boots. Tracking that crap all over my floors."

Both of the Drifter's deep emotional entanglements with Orin happen when he really genuinely talks to her, and now in Whispering Slab, he's genuinely talking to someone else, plus we get the origin of why he calls that someone else Moondust.

Then, during Arrivals, we get the amazing banter between him and Eris, and in Beyond Light they learn to control Stasis together with the result being (in my highly subjective opinion) the best cutscene in all of D2 : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IQAB-sSi6P0

At the end of Haunted we get Eris' message to him about healing and finding joy , he has this line in Plunder "What we do now matters more than who we were", we end up with the Kept Confidence lore tab during Season of the Witch where the person who previously insisted he trusted no one now is saying: "He didn't trust them. He trusted her" and then in the Gloaming Journeyer tab, he pulls her into a hug and reminds her of what she told him once (in the Prophesy dungeon dialogue): "That we'll live in the night if we have to. We do it for what comes after." (What comes after is dawn, hope, the continuance of existence after the darkest point.)

Someone in a chat I was in once summed up the core dynamic of the Drifter and Eris' relationship perfectly as "He gives her trust. She gives him hope."

There are people online who are very frustrated with the Drifter's character development, feeling that the Drifter has 'had his teeth filed off' and that he 'got his depression cured by getting a goth girlfriend' but I feel that's just people who don't like change. The Drifter has, throughout his entire storyline been constantly changing who he is. Change is part of his many self-constructed identities which he re-creates over and over as his old sense of self is destroyed and remade. Gritty vicious Drifter is still in there and he will be just as brutal as ever if he needs to be.

He doesn't want to be, though. He never has. And as someone who deals with medical-grade depression and who found themselves in a situation where they needed to reconstruct a sense of self to replace the one that was lost, the Drifter finding a way to hope and trust again after all he's been through is an extremely powerful and poignant narrative which speaks to me on many levels.

It's not trite, thoughtless happy fluffy rainbows, friendship-fixes-everything-whee! It's painful and slow and beautiful as the Drifter learns to have healthy relationships with other people. We need stories like this to speak to us at an unconscious level and tell us that even if you're not Eris Morn and you failed, and you gave up, and you didn't make it out of the Hellmouth, and you in fact gave in to despair and completely lost all hope, your experience erasing who it was you were and having that old you replaced with someone else, you can still find hope again. Even if you've been burned so severely by so many, many, negative human interactions that you cannot trust anyone, if you find the right people, you can slowly learn how to trust again.

The Drifter's story has been called a redemption arc, and I guess in a way it is that too but, for me, the essential quality of the Drifter's narrative isn't redemption: it's healing.

Stories have power. We incorporate them into who we are. Dredgen Hope ultimately does live up to his name. Within D2 he is finally starting to heal. I find that idea, of healing in spite of being so altered by one's experiences as to have had to become an entirely different person in order to survive, of being unable to trust and still finding a way to learn how to trust again, to be important and beautiful to have in my subconscious as something to draw from. It is a story that is very much needed by a lot of people. We need to be reminded that we can be irrevocably changed and have everything taken from us and still find a way to trust and hope and love again. That might seem a bit much for a shooty game, but I maintain this is why D2 has some of the best storytelling of any game I've ever played and that the character of the Drifter is a huge part of what makes that storytelling so compelling.

Sorry this took so long to answer. This seriously was as short as I could make it and still say everything that I felt needed to be said. There's more, and more detail, of course, but this is my treatise on why the Drifter is as awesome as I think he is.

That is all.

[justkiddingguys]

Batboys Tickle Headcanons

A/N: FORGIVE ME BUT I’M GOING INSANE OVER THESE MFS JUST LET ME RANT IM SO NEW TO THE FANDOM THEYRE SO CUTESY LMAO. Again, this is purely on vibes, im so new to this fandom. Also it’s 1 am this may or may not be coherent.

Warnings: Tickling (duh) but all SFW, cursing ig

Including: Damian, Tim, Jason, Dick, Bruce

Damian:

Youngest first lol

Lee:

Okay, so this kid hadn’t been tickled in his LIFE until coming to live with Bruce right

And I like to think the first time Bruce does it they’re already decently comfortable with eachother, yknow??

And Damian is BAFFLED cause WTF is this??

He tries to fight his way out of it for sure

But when he can’t it’s one of the few times anyone gets to see him ACTUALLY acting like a kid

He’s throwing out threats left and right

ANGRYY lee. He doesn’t really mind it but his pride cannot handle it lmao

I’d say his worst spots are his armpits and sides. Little scratches on his neck get him FLUSTERED though cause he has to scrunch up his neck and make a face and agghh

Overall very angry

He can get away from it most times (baby assassin)

He might allow Bruce or Dick to get him on occasion though :3

Ler:

Okay so obviously he doesn’t have the size advantage

But he enjoys getting one in on his siblings

When he can he’s a little shit

During training?

Nonchalant teaser

“How unfortunate, you’ve lost. Why are you smiling about that?” (Completely kneading his opponent’s nearest un-coverable spot)

“Pff- Damian stahp-“

“Stop what? I’m not hurting you”

Not something seen often, but it is mean

And embarrassing, cause you’re getting overpowered by a child bro 💀💀

Tim

Lee

Another neglected child smh

He’s not as foreign to it as Damian, but it’s still prominent lmao

He’s been tickled briefly before once or twice sure

But longer than a few seconds??

He doesn’t know what to do with himself

Snorts

Craves affection, so he definitely brats his way into tickles often

If you tease him about that though he will die

He’s super duper sensitive, so if he’s wrecked he’s WRECKED, but light tickles make him flustered beyond belief

T-word teases also fuck him up

Has been tickled to sleep out of necessity because omg he NEEDS it

Also cheer up tickles cause he gets in his headddd

His laugh is so cute, it sounds like he’s trying not to laugh even when he’s cackling

Is not above begging. Begs often.

His worst spots are his knees and ribs

AGSHSHSH Dick has done the rib counting thing on him

“Come on, count with me. You’re a genius, Timmy, can’t you count?”

“BFFFAHAHA sHIT Dihick-“ (more concerned with covering his face than anything at this point)

“No no, that’s not a number, let’s start over. One rib…”

Ler

Another one who I can’t think of many scenarios he’d actually end up in that position

But I picture him as such a cute ler

He’s teasing, don’t get me wrong

But it’s so soft, yknow?

Like sure, he’ll wreck your shit

He’s AMAZING at figuring out bad spots

But his teases are like

“Aw, that tickles? Does it really? Hm. That’s sad.”

“Stop? Why? I haven’t seen you smile this much in forever!”

AND IT IS SOFT WITH MALICIOUS INTENT

BUT IT IS SOFT

Jason Todd

Lee

ANOTHERRR ANGRY LEE

Not necessarily as irrational due to obvious slight maturity level differences between him and Damian

IF YOU CAN PIN THIS MAN DOWN

The curses are worth it

Pretends he HATESS it

But he does not :3

He’s too pussy to brat his way into tickles

But if he’s in a mood he’ll sit annoyingly close and just… stretch his arms up. Ever so subtly.

He’ll deny his intentions to the second grave though

He’s a kicker

Gets pissed off at regular/mean teasing but

“Awww Jason, your laugh is so cute”

“Cmon, let’s see that smile”

Any soft cooing and he is GONE

Yeah he’s still throwing fuck you’s around like rice at a wedding

But he’s covering his red ass face too

Worst spots are his hips and stomach and that PISSES HIM OFF

Using words like belly or tummy to tease have him utterly broken

Ler

Mean mean mean mean

Mean ler

Instigator

Absolute little shit

Oh my god he’s so teasy

No boundaries

“Wow, you’re REALLY ticklish, huh? Especially right here in this spot, here. Mhm. Yeah, you are, look. Stop? No? Awww come on. We both know you wanted this”

Will not be soft unless he’s doing it for a purpose

Enjoy’s wrecking Tim’s shit regularly

I cannot emphasize this enough: MEAN

He will not stop digging his fingers into the utter WORST spot until he’s satisfied that his victim is about to die :3

And he’ll tease them about it for WEEKS

Dick

Lee

TEEHEE TEEHEE

He’s the only mf on this list not embarrassed as fuck about tickling

He gets in a lee mood and EVERYONE knows

Giggly little bitch is silently begging for it

And he doesn’t even ask the ler to stop, he just lets it happen 💀

Like he’s just laying there, no shame

He has to have a bad spot on his legs, specifically thighs

Honestly I think the only way he’s blushing about it is if you tease him for NOT blushing about it

“Awww, you love this, huh? Look at that grin. Maybe I’ll just keep tickling forever, since you’re enjoying yourself so much”

Ler

Big Brother Ler ™️

Designated cheer-up tickler

He’s definitely the softest teaser

All compliments and coochie coos

Unless you’ve fuckin crossed him.

Cause he CAN get mean

Sweet tickles: “Hmm, I love that smile. You’re so cute when you giggle like that. Yeah I know it tickles”

Revenge tickles: “So what was it you were saying earlier? No say it. Go on.” (going insane on the WORST spot imaginable) “What? Sorry I can’t hear over all the laughing. Damn you’re ticklish. Oh you don’t like that word? Hm. Tickle, tickle tickle…”

His fingers are so fast and he IS more flexible than ANYONE and there’s no escaping, no moving. Just a big Dick Grayson Grin in your face.

[crazyk-imagine]

Being Luffy's Stray (Version B)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- No one knew you were there, not until they had to fight Klahadore, which was annoying to no end

- You never liked him or his crew which is why you watched as the Straw hats fought, tail flicking when you heard the sounds of the house becoming more and more damaged

- You couldn't interfere though, if others found out, namely the demon pirate hunter himself, you might be done for

- Luffy happily pet you when you finally appeared

"You were worried about a cat?" Nami asks.

"Not really," he scratches your chin. "I know she can handle herself."

"You're weird, you know that," Usopp tells him.

The rubber man shrugs.

- After that, you were hoping nothing else would happen, you'd like to be able to enjoy a day without fighting anyone

- Oh, how life is a bitch and throws a curveball your way

- You woke up and found yourself in fog, but decide to go back to your nap before you clawed someone

- The next thing you know, you're in a restaurant

"Welcome to the shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambiance is the food. My name is Sanji, what can I get you?"

You meow at him without realizing it, if you were in your human form, you'd be blushing

"I'm sorry but we cannot allow pets in here but since the old man is busy, I'll let it slide," he smirks at the rubber man.

You purr as a thank you.

- And, then the captain makes the biggest mistake ever and tries to do an iou instead of paying which earns him a non-paying job as a dish washer

"Shouldn't you leave her on the boat? I don't think the kitchen is a very safe or sanitary environment for a cat," Nami tells him.

Luffy shrugs. "Not much they can do after hours, right?"

"Luffy."

"Fine."

- You snuck out to check on him, watching as they helped a drifting pirate

- Luffy smiles when he notices you hanging in the shadows

- Your paws running across the floor alert the chef

"You found us."

You pause, wondering if he knows who you are but realize he's talking as if you're the rubber man's pet

He bends down, one knee on the ground with one arm resting on his bent knee as he holds out a piece of meat for you, letting you take your time coming to him

You sniff, making sure he's not trying to kill you

- Thus, the start of an interesting relationship between you two

- The real kicker was when everyone found out the secret only Luffy knew about, and it was only because Arlong and his crew showed up

- After kicking the chef into a table, scaring the bejesus out of Usopp, and pushing Luffy into a wall

- Let's just say, they had it coming

- You run from kitchen door, using the toppled table as leverage, shifting midair to kick Arlong in his abdomen

"Don't mess with my friends."

"There she is the dead cat back again." He smirks, "and here I thought I'd killed you."

"Well, you know a cats got nine lives and I'd never give one to you."

- Luffy sends you away

- You take care of the other two, literally kicking them out (or at least, close to the door)

- You run over to Usopp and Sanji

"So, you're the cat?"

You stare you. "Does it look like it's the right opportunity to ask that?"

He chuckles, groaning soon after.

You roll your eyes and haul them up off the stairs by the collar of their shirts.

Usopp whines the whole way

- The real interesting thing was when you all found yourself fighting Arlong's pirates

- You didn't plan on shifting into something bigger, but it was necessary

- Usopp ran to the side when he saw you, a large maroon jaguar running towards him (but not aiming for him)

- Zoro jumps beside you, using his katana to take out the fishman trying to grab your hind leg. "Glad to see you decided to join."

"Shouldn’t you be on bed rest?"

"Someone’s gotta watch Luffy's back."

- You launch yourself across the way, clawing a fishman trying to punch the chef only for him to save himself

He turns around, smirking down at you, "I don't want such a gorgeous feline like yourself to ruin your claws."

"Don't flatter yourself, I'd never break a claw on any one of these guys."

- The building collapses and you change back into your human form, just in time for Nami to hug you (and you give Sanji a hug, so he got one too)

- You're just happy it's all over even though there was a slight mishap regarding Luffy’s grandpa

- After you all said your dreams, that's when the real adventure began

[livingdeadblondequeen]

You, Me, & Him Part 3

Apologies for taking so long to post another part. Between lots of story ideas and lots of traveling, things have been crazy for me. However thanks to continued interest in this, I was able to write more. I hope it is worth the wait.

Previous parts can be found here

With the gate and fences between them and the undead, Y/N could focus away from the threat and on the people now in front of her and Daryl. One was a tall, large dark man wearing a beanie and the other a short-haired brunette woman a little taller and a few years younger than herself, both wearing welcoming smiles.

“I see your hunting trip was a success, you brought home not only dinner but a new friend.” The brunette said as she nodded to first the turkey that Daryl was holding then Y/N, holding out her hand. “I’m Maggie, this is Tyrese. You look like you’ve been out there awhile.”

Though cautious, Y/N reached out to take the offered hand when her son made his presence known to the new people. He shoved the wrap away from his face and squealed happily at what he saw. She watched as Maggie’s eyes doubled in size at the sight before her smile grew bigger as it focused on the baby. “Hello to you too, cutie.”

“This is Y/N, and her boy Christopher,” Daryl stated in introduction.

“Daryl was nice enough to offer a safe place for the two of us,” Y/N added as she finally took Maggie’s extended hand.

“I’m glad he did. It’s not safe out there alone, let alone with a baby.” Maggie replied, before looking up further up the fence line in the direction Y/N guessed others were. “We have quite a few kids here, but Judith is the only little one we have close to Christopher’s size. I think Beth just put her down for a nap.”

“Daryl mentioned that there was another baby,” Y/N stated as she relaxed a little, hearing that the baby had been put down for a nap sounded so mundane, but also showed how secure the group felt where they were.

“Found a clinic up north a bit that ain’t been hit yet, Y/N had the same idea to get supplies. Brought them here and to get a car, some others, and make a run to clear it out.” Daryl explained as he led them away from the gate and up towards a second gate deeper into the yard. “Got a few things for little Ass Kicker though.”

“Rick will be relieved to hear it, Daddy too I’m sure so to stock the infirmary.” Maggie declared. “I’m sure Glen will want to organize a run to go back tomorrow at first light, I’ll let him know you’re back if I see him first.”

Y/N listened to the three of them talk about where the clinic was located and went back as she looked at their surroundings. The group had just started clearing an area to make several gardens in the grass between the front gate and the next one.

When they reached the yard, Maggie and Tyrese left them to return to their post and Y/N saw more people. Children were playing at the far end, while adults were sitting around some tables set up for eating that surrounded an outdoor kitchen. They had quite the setup, and a lot safer than the previous one Y/N had been in.

Daryl handed over the turkey to an older woman with gray hair, who took it happily. He then leaned over, talking to her quietly, and Y/N watched as the woman’s eyes focused on her, then Christopher before her lips curled up in a welcoming smile. “Daryl said your name is Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Carol.” The woman replied, though she didn’t move to offer her hand like Maggie had. It didn’t make her feel any less welcomed, but it made Y/N curious as Carol continued. “Knowing Daryl, you all didn’t stop or anything on your trip here. Would you like something to eat?”

Fighting the impulse to reject the offer, Y/N nodded her head. “If it isn’t too much trouble, I can wait.”

“Nonsense, dinner is mostly done, just fix you up a plate before the others get to it. What about the baby?” Carol asked, her eyes dropping to where Christopher was wrapped up. 

“No, thank you. I have some food for him in my bag.” Y/N answered. She had given him a small bottle on the trek to the prison but knew he would want something more soon. He had quite the appetite.

“Daryl, last time I saw him, Herschel was just inside. Why don’t you take Y/N and Christopher in and let him look them over? He’s our doctor. I’ll bring her in some food and then we can figure out a place for them to get some rest.”

Daryl mumbled what sounded like a yes before bumping his shoulder against hers. She turned her attention to him and motioned with his head to follow him. She continued to study the area as he led her into the building marked, ‘Cell Block C’. Once inside, Y/N could see that they entered a large room with a few tables scattered around, all of them empty save one where an older bearded gentleman sat, a black book in his hands. The man looked up at their entrance and nodded in greeting at them, a kind smile on his face. “Hello there.”

“Found them aways from here, they’ve been on their own for a bit,” Daryl explained. “Carol said to have you look them over.”

“Of course.” Hershel agreed, “If the young lady is okay with that of course.”

Y/N only hesitated for a minute before nodding her head in agreement. A doctor hadn’t looked Christopher over since the weeks following his birth and while Y/N thought he was healthy, having him checked over wasn’t a bad idea. Of course, that examination would happen with her holding him, she wasn’t about to leave her son with strangers. No matter if she had trusted Daryl enough to come with him.

While Hershel went to grab his bag, Y/N settled at the table he vacated, unwrapping Christopher. Daryl helped her shoulder off her pack, which she was grateful for as her son got a big case of the wiggles. “Thank you.” 

“Hmm, I’ll just leave you two with the doc,” Daryl replied as he up the strap of his crossbow further up his shoulder and started backing away though he felt himself hesitating just a bit as he did. However, before he could slip away her head snapped in his direction. 

“Can you stay?” Y/N asked, “Please?”

Her gaze locked on Daryl’s, and he could see that she did want him to stay. He got that she might not be comfortable being left with someone she didn’t know but wasn’t he also a stranger? Yet despite this, he knew he wasn’t about to refuse her request. He nodded his answer as he gripped the strap of his crossbow across his chest nervously. When the baby caught sight of Daryl, he moved to crawl across the table towards him but was quickly distracted by the sound of Hershel returning.

“Well young man, what is your name?” Hershel asked warmly as the little boy stared at him wide-eyed from his spot on her lap.

“Christopher,” Y/N replied. “And I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Hershel replied. “How old is he?” “Around a year? He was born a few weeks before the outbreak began.”

“That was lucky for the two of you. Was it a natural birth?”

“Yes, there were no issues, and they discharged us with a clean bill of health,” Y/N answered. Hershel asked a few other questions as he continued to look over Christopher, who found the whole thing very entertaining.

“Well, he seems to be perfectly healthy. His weight seems to be good even, I assume you have been nursing him?”

“I was until a couple of weeks ago,” Y/N answered before lowering her eyes. “I don’t know why but it seemed like he wasn’t getting enough when I fed him. After a few days, I was completely dried up.”

“It happens even in the healthiest of times, but considering the lack of resources available now, it’s a wonder you were able to keep it up,” Hershel explained, as he looked her over and recognized the signs of malnourishment in her.

“I’ve been feeding him formula or powdered milk and some baby food when I can find it, that’s how we ended up where we met Daryl,” Y/N stated as she looked over at the archer.

“Well, unless you have any injuries I haven’t noticed, the two of you are healthy though I would like you to get some rest and regular meals. Both you can get here.” Hershel added.

“Carol’s makin’ her some food,” Daryl mentioned. “And then we’ll find them a bunk.”

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the three of them heard the door open to the outside and the person he had just mentioned appeared with a heaping plate and a bottle of water in her hands.”Here we go.”

Carol quickly set the food down in front of Y/N, and Y/N swore her mouth started to water at the smell. It was a mixture of some kind of meat, vegetables, and rice. “Thank you.”

While spying the plate of food, Christopher reached for the shiny spoon, and Y/N let him play with it for a moment. She watched as Carol smiled before saying, “I can take him while you eat.”

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that, what with making and getting the food.” Y/N stated before placing Christopher down on the floor by her feet so that he was close while she began to devour the food. It tasted even better than it smelled. 

Carol watched the younger woman practically inhale the food while keeping an eye on both her child and the others in the room. It wasn’t hard to see how protective she was of Christopher. Noticing the bow that rested next to them, Carol nodded towards it. “That weapon yours?”

Y/N nodded as she swallowed the bite in her mouth. “Yeah, it’s mine.”

“You must be pretty good,” Hershel commented.

Y/N nodded. “I learned when I was young at summer camp, and did well enough with it over the years that they brought me back when I was older to teach kids. Hadn’t touched it in years, but it didn’t take long to shake off the rust when the dead started walking around. Which is good since it’s quieter than a gun, and doesn’t disturb Christopher or draw the dead. Finding arrows isn’t easy but the ones I have work. I learned how to shoot and take care of my bow but not how to make arrows, unfortunately.” 

“I can show ya,” Daryl spoke up from his spot. When both women’s and Hershel’s eyes turned to him, he went on. “We have some arrows that we’ve found on runs, but I can show you how to make more. Use the feathers of that turkey we brought in even.”

Y/N smiled up at him at the offer. “Thank you. I would like that.”

‘Interesting.’ Carol thought as she couldn’t help but notice the look her best friend and the newcomer shared. Though she didn’t want to interrupt, she spoke up. “I’m sure Daryl would appreciate having another hunter out with them, but there is no rush.”

“You and Christopher need to get some rest and settle in. Get your strength up and get used to being around people again.” Hershel added. 

“Thank you,” Y/N said again. “And I want to do what I can to help out around here. But I’d prefer not to go outside of the fences if I can, keep Christopher safe behind them.”

Carol didn’t mention that they had people there who could watch Christopher for her, she knew it wouldn’t be met with agreement. Y/N needed to settle in and trust them before she would consider that. “Now that you’ve got some food in you, how about we show you where you’ll be sleeping?”

Y/N nodded, relieved at the thought of getting some rest. They said goodbye to Hershel before Y/N followed Carol and Daryl out of the common area and into the connected cell block. Y/N took in her surroundings as she listened to Carol. “We have people in two cell blocks C and D. We brought in a large group from a fallen community several weeks back and they filled up D but we still have a room here in C.” 

The cell block was clean and relatively quiet. Y/N heard quiet singing coming from a cell, it sounded like a lullaby but they were led up the stairs. Y/N passed a couple of doors before Carol stopped and motioned to an open one. “Here you go. It’s empty now but we have a few things that will make it more comfortable, blankets and stuff.”

Y/N walked inside and looked around. It was empty, just two bunks and a small table but it was clean. And safe. That was the most important part. “We can make it work.”

“I’ll grab you a few things for the bed,” Carol stated. “My cell is a few doors down.” 

After Carol left to gather the bedding, Y/N saw Daryl hovering around the door, his fingers fiddling with the strap across his chest. When he noticed she was looking at him, he lowered his eyes. “I’ma goin’ go.”

As he turned to leave Y/N’s voice stopped him. “Daryl? Thank you. For bringing us here, I just…thank you.”

Daryl nodded in acknowledgment, “Ma cell’s the other side of Carol’s. If ya need anything.”

Y/N watched him disappear from the doorway before looking down at her son. “Well sweetheart, what do you think?”

Christopher looked at his mother and smiled a big toothy grin, causing her to laugh. “Glad you seem to like it. Let’s hope it works out.”

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