#and I just wish she could be like “’let’s get it here’s my info

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

cw: period/menstruation, scat and urine talk but not very explicit.

🔴🔴🔴

AITA for saying periods are gross?

Let me preface this by saying that I am biologically a woman and do get periods. Ages don't really matter but everyone in the story is an adult.

Basically I was talking with another girl friend of mine and the topic of periods and public bathrooms came up where I said something like "Ugh, used pads are so gross, I wish women at my office would wrap theirs in toilet paper before throwing them out so I don't have to see them when I go to throw mine out too." Which to me felt completely normal? I always wrap my pad with a piece of tp so it doesn't accidentally unwrap and I don't see why others at my office don't do that, though it doesn't really bother me enough to confront them about it, it's just a small annoyance that I thought I could share with a friend.

But then my friend started arguing with me, saying I shouldn't be calling periods gross? and that apparently it's a misogynistic thing to do?? Which to me felt completely insane because like... periods ARE gross? Like it's literally bloody chunks exiting your body, idk how else you could describe it.

But she still tried to explain to me how it's not gross and is just a normal, natural biological process, and women shouldn't be shamed for it, but like... so is shitting and pissing? Shitting and pissing are both natural and biological and happen to EVERYONE but it's still gross non the less (unless you're into that I guess). And just to clarify: I wasn't trying to shame my coworkers for HAVING periods, just like I wouldn't try to shame them for taking a piss or a dump, that would be dumb. I was just specifically complaining about them not cleaning up after themselves properly, the same way I would complain if I they didn't flush or something.

Lastly when my friend realized I wasn't being convinced she just huffed and said "Fine, I hope you have a nice life being grossed out by your own body." which is like... ?????????? Why would I be grossed out by my own body? Like, human bodies do a lot of gross stuff but that doesn't mean I'm grossed out by MY body. I don't know if this is uncommon or not but I don't feel grossed out when looking at my own period blood, or shit or most other stuff that comes out of MY body, but I still do get grossed out when I see other's people's stuff, which is why I was complaining in the first place. But she just didn't respond after that and the conversation kinda moved on.

Idk, I feel like I'm either super mega dumb and just don't get why what I said was wrong or she's just plain incorrect but that's why I'm asking for a third opinion here.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #unsanitary cw

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.

#my characters #waiting on some info on the next commission so i indulged in ocs today bc i doubt i will have as much time for lil comics for a bit #deacon is so devoted hes like yeah i would kill for a deity that could easily kill anything himself but yknow teehee #and fulj just did you tell him you needed therapy also does he even know youd murder in his name #deacon caught red handed haha no of course i havent told him it should be obvious enough haha.... and its in his defense not his name :c #man really does have some issues but i love him so much and hes so devoted but like. unhealthily after a while #he does in fact need a chill pill and therapy but to be fair #ymber has needed therapy for centuries and yet he just bottles it all up and suffers so #its pretty unhealthy until they yell at each other one (1) time bc they are so insecure about things and get mad over very valid reasons #but then theyre like you know what that was necessary and i still want to stay by your side if you let me #and then fulj is like dude hey sorry you seem really happy did you fu- and ymber is like no please stop there we have not #fulj just squinting cause have not is very different than will not but whatever she doesnt wanna think about that with deacon involved ew #and eventually fulj is like hey ymber im sorry to say but i really do hate deacon and i dont even know why but he makes me uncomfortable #while deacon is just. in the room. hearing this and thinking how he knows she thinks hes weird but wow that wording hurts #and ymber doesnt wanna fill in memories better forgotten by fulj which she had forcefully removed #so he just says oh well his hair and clothing are black and you had someone in the past that you might see in him and its not a pleasant en #so you know maybe its that idk #and fulj is then WHATST i was rude to him for someone i cant even remember? lame im gonna try SO HARD to be nice to him now #and deacon just still sitting there with some food like this is v awkward and i wish i could not be here for it #and later he asks ymber about who he resembled and as ymber is descibing her it clicks in deacons head and he gets really sad #that he might somehow remind fulj of the woman she loved before she was punished for loving a mortal #and he feels kinda bad pestering her so much with his curiosities about deities and he kinda gets it #the fact hes close to ymber might remind her at the core that she was once that close with a mortal if not closer #anyway story time in the tags again #im so obsessed with these peeps and i have made them suffer so much but they do all end on a happy note #its still funny and nice to me that while fulj is creeped out by deacon and doesnt like talking to him #he still expresses the most emotions to her - he tries hard to remain serious around ymber and collected and obedient at all times #and when out and about with ymber he has to be intimidating and refuses smiling but fulj?? all sunshine and smiles and emotions easy to rea #and she is just that is so weird go away i hate you

[mrfoox]

Me: (:

Someone: uh, neither Oliver or Magnus will come by tomorrow...

Me: :(

#miranda talking shit #I know that the schedule always changes early weeks and one shouldnt rely on them so much but each time im sad #I wish i had the authority/will and also lack of compassion to complain but i dont #I know they have a hard time as it is to get everything working and organizing etc... So i dont want to be an extra problem #Also know at least Oliver is well liked by everyone so im probably not the only one that just lets him visit oops #Magnus i think could be similar. I can see some old grumpy people be mad at him but i think many must like having him come by #I wish i was more comfortable with others coming... But no i borderline hate it. Its fine two days a week bc i got cleaning then anyway so #I can just clean with them and i dont have to interact much... But meh ): #Only one im fine enough with coming by besides those two is an lady but she only works part time now so i rarely see her #I understand why its hard for me bc like... Its in my diagnose criteria/info. Change is harder for me especially in every day things #But i wish i could be more comfortable with it. I have never had things adjusted to me like at all until i was an adult and got my diagnose #So im still so uncomfortable to demand or ask for changes. Meanwhile everyone else like even Oliver 'miranda its okay to say you dont like #X person and dont want them to come here. I'll tell the people planning and they'll adjust it' meanwhile im sobbing at rhe floor #Like no... I dont want to be a problem... An issue.. I dont want to be a bother or mean or rude or- #Doesnt help the one other person i did like and wanted to come by quit... I got Magnus soon after and fortunately loved him #But yeah. The other guy i was okay with also quit so now im like oops... My pool of people i dont want to die around is shrinking help #Anyway ignore my rant it probably doesnt make sense unless you know my full situation #Short story i dont like people and i only get along with a small pool of them and i wish they could be the only ones i saw #For someone who likes to get to know people ... I also have such a limited criteria for which type of people doesnt steal energy from me #I like a lot of people but so few arent energy theifs. And even fewer even GIVE me energy #The two who give me energy i wish i could see every day but alas...

[hazbinhotelxreader]

Sub! Carmilla x dom!fem reader smut

Words: 1.6k

“Good Girl”

A/n: yall this came into my mind yesterday and I need this, and from the comments I got I can tell you all need it too pookies☺️❤️

Warnings: BTSM, leash and

Collaring, submissive Carmilla, needy Carmilla, dominant reader, soft sex, gentle sex, fingering, oral, praising, rough sex, reader is a power/dominate bottom, Carmilla is a submissive top, scissoring

Info: Carmilla is busy with work and

You, her precious wife, comes over to give her a little..surprise. Reader is a power/dominate bottom. Carmilla is a submissive top

Carmilla sat at her desk in her office, writing some acceptance letters from requests. You were holding something behind your back as you walk over to her room, knocking softly in a familiar pattern. “Come in” Carmilla says gently. You walk into the room and Carmillas gaze softened, though she went back to writing and didn’t see you hiding something. “Hello mi amor, what is it that you need?”

You smirk softly and walk closer to her. “Nothin..just checking in on my favorite girl.” You say and get closer.

“Hmm..aren’t you sweet” she says while still not looking at you, writing down some acceptance letters still. Sighing and still trying to get her attention, you move to sit on her lap, though she easily managed to write with you on her. “Is there a reason you’re so clingy?” She asked gently, her eyes focused on the papers before her.

Groaning softly at her lack of attention, you reminded yourself why your here. You took advantage of her unaware state and pulled the thing you were hiding behind your back. A heavy duty, thick, metal collar. You move the collar to the weapon dealers neck and click it on.

Carmilla feels the cold metal hit her neck and blinked a couple of times before looking down and seeing the collar. “..what is this for?” She asked and finally you got her attention. With a satisfied smirk you teasingly trace her jaw.

“Oh you know…I kind of wanted you to myself..” you say to your wife, which she let out a slightly annoyed groan.

“My love, can’t you see I’m busy-“ you didn’t even let her finish her sentence before putting your index finger into the collars ring and pulling it, causing Carmilla to gasp in surprise, she could feel the heat between her legs.

“Oh? Did you like that?” You let out another satisfied smirk as you give it another tug. Carmilla hit her bottom lip to stifle a moan, not wanting to loose control in this situation. You get off your wife’s lap and pull her by the collar, pulling her to your guys shared room. Keeping a good grip on her collar while pulling her onto the bed with you.

You pull her over you, collar still in hand. “Oh you look so cute like this..” you tease her and kiss her right underneath the collar on her neck.

“Just wait till I get out of this-“ once again you, you cut her off with another tug, slightly rougher than the last. This time she couldn’t hold back her moan or sounds of pleasure and pain.

“No..not tonight. Tonight I’m in charge. Okay baby?” You say with a small smirk and lustful eyes as you pull her closer by the collar. She let out a small growl from the bottom off her throat but nods, having no choice but to listen to you in this situation. “Good girl..and since you like this little collar so much, why don’t we take it up a notch?” You move one of your hands under the pillow and pull out a matching leash to go with her collar, you put it there earlier, you were prepared.

Carmillas breath hitched as a small coat of blush covered her cheeks, her gorgeous red and white eyes averted away from yours as she nods. “Good girl..I knew you’d want this.” You praise and put the leash on with a satisfying click. Testing it out you give it a nice tug, causing Carmilla to get pulled forward and get caught off balance.

“Be careful..” she demands softly, her breath a little shaky from the tugs. You look up at her and smile.

“I’ll be as carful or as rough as I wish darling~” you smirk and pull her again to get her closer to your face, her arms do her best to hold herself up. Once she’s close enough you immediately make contact with her lips, kissing her deeply and passionately while pushing your tongue into her warm mouth. Moaning softly, she swirls her tongue around yours, while you remain in control.

You wrap the leash around one of your arms to hold her down on you better and use your other hand to pull the back of her head to deepen the kiss. You let out a groan as she does as well, her large hands digging into the sheets while her eyes shut softly. Taking the lead, you start to unbutton her shirt with one of your hands, separating the kiss, then pulling it off of her and through the leash. She lets out a soft sigh and rested her head into your chest, blushing while you unclip her bra.

Your breath hitched as her soft breasts bounce out, her nipples hard from arousal. Pulling the leash again, you pull her chest up to your face and greedily take one nipple into your mouth. She lets out a soft gasp and groan, shutting her eyes and holding onto the sheet harder. “mi amor..joder, joder..” she said breathlessly in Spanish, making you moan at her tone and the romantic language

Your tongue swirled around her hardened nipple, causing it to go softer. You pull away from it and move your mouth over to her neglected nipple, latching onto it. “Ngh..~” Carmilla made a soft noise of pleasure, gripping onto the sheets tighter than before, close to ripping them with her large powerful fingers.

After giving that nipple attention you pull the leash again and flip Carmilla onto her back, now straddling her still clothed lap. She looked up at you, showing submission and understanding that you were in complete control. You start to kiss her neck softly, leaving small love bites around her chest so they won’t be exposed for tomorrows meeting she has. “I’m gonna take good care of you my love..” you say softly and seductively to her, before rubbing her inner thighs.

“Mmm..I know mi Amor..please hurry..” she begged softly and closed her eyes, moaning at your gentle and loving rubs. Smiling gently, you take off her skirt, and then pull down her tights carefully and slowly to tease her, smirking as you see her soaked laced panties.

“You’re so ready for me my love~” you say and lift one of her thighs up, kissing up and down her inner thigh closer and closer to her clothed core. Carmilla lets out another moan, practically begging for your touch. Giving in, you pull down her panties and push one of your fingers into her aroused throbbing core.

“Ah~! Yes..! Right there…keep going….” Carmilla moaned out and begged, her large white hands moving up to grip the leash so she could ground herself. You hold the leash tight to make sure she can’t pull away while you thrust in and out of her, adding another finger. Her moans become more needy and her hips buck up, now searching for climax.

“Such a good girl..you’re so desperate for me aren’t you?” You smirk gently and thrust another finger into her, now three fingers in her soaking wet pussy.

“Yes..!” She said breathlessly and panting while you pound into her. You continued to pound and thrust into her with your fingers, occasionally giving tugs to her leash and collar to remind her who is in control right now. Finally you feel her walls close onto your fingers, signaling she’s close to her climax, thrusting harder to drive out her release, her back arches in pleasure. “I’m close..please..” her voice breathless and more whiny as she finally reached her orgasm.

You feel her warm cum fall into your hand, you continue to pump in and out off her, milking her every last drop. She pants softly under you, blushing and her eyes closed and hazed.

You hold onto the leash still as you start to unbutton your own pants, your core aroused and in desperate need of release as well. Pulling off your pants and panties, you toss them to the side and then separate her legs a little, throwing one of your legs over hers, connecting your neglected clit with her sore one. You let out a surprised moan and gasp, shutting your eyes while you start to grind against hers, the leash and collar tugging at her neck with every movement.

She lets out more moans, her hands gripping the leash even tighter, her mouth slightly agape while she grinds back into you. “So good..so so good…” she groaned.

“I know..” you moaned back with your eyes shut tight, the wet noises of your wet cunts moving together filled the room along with your moans and groans mixing together. Grinding and bucking both of your hips wildly, you and Carmilla both let out a cry and reach your climax together. Your orgasm drips down Carmillas, covering her thighs and some getting into her. You separate yourself from Carmilla, no matter how much you didn’t want to, and panted, letting go of the leash and unclipping it off of her neck. “Good girl..good job..” you praise and kiss her neck.

“Thank you mi amor..” she thanks as she rests her head on your shoulder, satisfied and exhausted.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x fem reader #hazbin hotel x female reader #hazbin hotel x you #carmilla carmine x wife reader #carmilla carmine smut #carmilla carmine x fem reader #carmilla carmine x reader #carmilla carmine #carmilla x fem reader #smut #carmilla x reader #carmilla

[sixosix]

hello!! this is my first time asking so forgive me if i do anything wrong.

so i just saw your event anddddd first of all, i just want to say congrats on 5k!!! and also happy birthdayy!! if its not a bother, can i participate in the event?? if so heres the prompt,

[lyney, earphones(the wired ones), fluff]

your thawed series really made me fall in love with the way you write lyney😭 and because of that, i want to read more of him from you!!

once again, congrats on 5k!!

a/n HELLO ANON!!! thank you so much + dont worry u sent an ask right! im so happy u like my characterization of lyney hehe hes just a silly guy…

info 500 words, short and sweet, modern college au

5K EVENT SPECIAL | EVENT MASTERLIST

Lynette texted you this morning saying that she had a fever.

Usually, this wouldn’t have been a problem. Get well soon! or an I’ll send you the notes later would be the end of the conversation. Then you’d go on with your day and miss her, but that would be it. That was supposed to be it.

But it was Lynette. And if she was involved—

“Hey.” Lilac eyes overtook your vision, shockingly close. You jumped back, and Lyney grinned. “Are you still texting my sister? I’m right here, you know.”

Lynette You’ll be fine

You LYHBEDTTE

Lynette He’s just Lyney

You EXACTLY WHY

This was a problem because you had been nursing the biggest crush on Lynette’s brother since you met her—and it’s been years. The color of his eyes, the softness of his hair, the crinkle of his eyes as he smiles—

“I’m telling her I wish she were here instead,” you said, hiding your screen from his sharp eyes.

Lyney wasn’t fazed at all. He matched your steps and easily walked alongside you, his lips stretched into a wide grin. He was so suspiciously happy today.

“Are we going to take the bus there?” Lyney asked, his arms still brushing against yours. His chin was tucked in his windbreaker, muffling his words a little. He looked a little red—did he have a fever as well?

“I guess so,” you said, dragging your gaze away from the sight. You could hear your heartbeat racing.

Lyney’s smile softened, then gestured at the bus stop bench. “It’s still early. Let’s sit over there.”

It was empty, yet when you sat at the far edge, Lyney still cozied up beside you. Seeking refuge, you hid your face further in the safety of your hoodie. This was bad. Lynette rarely got sick; this was your first time alone with Lyney, and you didn’t know how to act.

When you glanced at him, Lyney seemed content with the silence. You weren’t—you could hear the loud thumps of your chest, and soon enough, Lyney would notice it, too.

You pulled out your earphones and swiped to the highest volume possible, ear damage be damned. You were not going to survive today. You’re going to embarrass yourself and make a fool of your impressions, and Lyney would get weirded out and avoid you for the rest of his life.

Your throat made some sort of warbling deflated noise as music drowned out your heartbeat, but not your thoughts. Why was Lyney so warm? Even with layers of clothing, you could feel the heat of his skin, and it was driving you mad. You wanted nothing but to curl into it like a cat with sunlight. Why did Lynette have to get sick while you were still hopelessly infatuated with her brother?

Abruptly, Lyney’s head found its way to your shoulder. Stunned, you sucked in a breath, overwhelmed with all the sensations. Your five senses were being violated left and right—all you could see, hear, and touch was Lyney.

He reached his hand out expectantly. You made a noise of confusion, then belatedly realized what he was pointing at. Careful not to jostle him, you plucked an earphone and gently placed it in his ear. Lyney flinched.

“This is loud,” Lyney chuckled, but he didn’t ask you to mess with the volume. He laid back down with his weight and stayed there, unaware of how your face was a flaming mess.

Your eyes slipped to your lap, feeling shy. From this angle, it was hard to tell what Lyney was looking at, but you could feel his smile. It could be Lyney’s unnaturally warm body heat or your burning embarrassment, but— maybe you were starting to feel feverish as well.

Lyney snuggled closer. You sighed and resigned yourself to a long day.

#606: 5K EVENT #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n

[starrybl1ss]

burning desire౨ৎ

⋆｡°🕯️✩.˚₊

stu macher ghostface!abby x billy loomis ghostface!ellie x sidney prescott!reader

໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

<;> importaint info (please read) Hii! Sooo, the storyline of the fic is abt this part in the scream 1 but i changed it up a bit! ౨ৎ warnings: threesom, mention of blood, murder, smut, fingering, knife play, betrayal??, both psycos eating u outtt, pet names, swearing, trauma, death threats, angst, dead body but not really??? begging

꒰୨୧꒱

The night was a total horror, it just all started from the woodsboro murder of casey becker, the girl from your school and now it has turned into a nightmare to you and everyone else.

All the murder that the anonymus serial killer in the ghostface mask has done. Your friends, dead. It's all a tragedy,

The aftermath of the party at abby's is all fucked up. Now your running around for your life inside abby's house, terrified.

Your currently upstairs. Now your running down the stairs, sweat and blood all over you.

Your heartbeat felt like it stopped when you saw dina on the living room floor with blood all over.

You start sobbing. "O-oh my fucking g-god! Dina?!" You yelled while breathing heavily.

You quickly looked up as you heard a noise so your ran as quickly as possible towards the kitchen trying to hide when you bumped into abby.

"Woah, woah you 'kay?" She asked you. You panicked around and finally replied trying to catch a breathe "F-fuck, t-the killer is... is.. is fucking here, Dina's dead we need to call the cops and get the fuck out of here abby!"

You heard a noise and looked back quickly as you saw... ghostface.... standing there. You shrieked "FUCK, ABBY LETS GO!"

"shhh, calm down" she insured you. "ARE YOU MAD? THERES A KILLER INFRONT OF US" you shouted at her getting ready to run.

Suddenly, the killer took off the mask and... and... ellie?! "Suprise babe" she said grinning. "WHAT THE FUCK ELLIE?"

You were in horror. "ABBY WE SHOULD FUCK OFF AND RUN" as abby hugs you from behind, she grabbed something from her pocket, a soundbox...

She turned on the soundbox and began speaking. "Hello, y/n" with the terrifying voice that you have heard so many time through the phone before getting attacked.

"SHIT, ABBY LET ME GO PLEASE" you cried out. abby doesn't answer. Ellie got closer and lifts up your chin. "You thought i could do this fucked up game alone huh?"

Ellie lets out her hand as abby game the voice box to her. She turned the voice box on "wanna play a game..... y/n?" She laughed madly. She sounds like she has lost her mind.

"please.... Just fucking let me go..." you begged. Abby whispers in your ear "how bout we draw a little blood first?"

"god, please no... let me go please" you helplessly sob. Tears falling down your cheeks as ellie whipes them off. "It's okay babe, we'll be gentle" as her sweet caring smile turns into an evil smirk.

"Fucking hell ellie, i thought i trusted you" you said. "I know, i know im sooooo sorry babe" she whispers while holding you. Her left hand on your shoulder and right hand on your hips.

"i should have let you rot in jail until your execution day" you sobbed. "You'd miss me if i was gone doll" ellie said.

"See y/n? Wont you miss her if she was gone? Counting down days until she gets executed and die? You wouldn't want that right pretty?" Abby said still holding you back.

"I would, but now i wish you two were fucking dead" you replied with anger. "What if your the one whos gonna be dead tonight doll?" Ellie walk around slowly around the kitchen.

"Fuck you." You yelled while still trying to catch a breath. Ellie gets closer to your body. "What was that? You don't need to act so bitter babe"

"dont ever call me 'babe' again you fucking bitch!" You shout at her. "Remember i have a knife right? I could stab you and gut out your insides anytime. But i won't"

Ellie pulls out her knife as you try to flee from abbys arm but it was impossible, she was so strong. "FUCK YOU BITCHES LET ME GO!" you screamed.

Ellie drags the side of the knife around your bare stomache as you were wearing tight croptop. You felt the cold sensation of the knife on your skin without drawing any blood but is enough to make you panic.

"you look so pretty like this doll" said to you grinning. You were breathing heavily but her words somehow made you blush.

"Awh, your so cute" she teased dragging the knife lower down your stomache. "F-fuck..." you said as your skin gets cold due to the knife.

"Dont worry pretty, ellie's knife is clean. She hasnt killed anyone with it" abby insured you.

Ellie circles the side of her blade on your lower stomache with you closing your eyes. "Don't pretend that you dont like that" she said teasingly.

She stop and slides down the end of her blade carefully down your shorts without making you bleed. You whimper softly from her actions.

"S-shit dont fucking stop" you said desperately. Abby grabs your chin and starts kissing you as ellie drops her knife on the floor and unbutton your short jeans.

Now your just gonna let two psycopaths to ruin you rather than gutting your insides, enexpected but you enjoyed the thrill of it.

It was like 5 minutes ago that you were screaming, begging and shouting telling them to stop but this time you'll be doing the same but differently.

Ellie takes off your jeans leaving your panties on as abby lets go and sits down. Ellie pushes you like a fucking ragdoll throwing you down on abby's lap as you groan.

Ellie squats down infront of you still in the mysterious black coat. She pulls down your panties to your lower knee as you let out a small gasp.

"Fuck, you get soaked real quick babe" you were avoiding eyes contact from the tense when suddenly you felt her two fingers right in you.

"Sh-shit..." she whispered. She then curled her fingers that made you arch your back "ah- fuuuckkkk!" You groan out.

She pulls out both her fingers out of you. "N-no, no pleaseeee dont stop!" You cried out. "Don't worry babe, im not planning to anyways"

She quickly opens up your legs. Her face got closer to your soaking cunt. She gave you small licks around as you grabbed on to abby's thighs.

Then ellie totally eats you out like she was almost starved to death. "mmphhhh! Fucking hell! Shitshitshitshit- a-ah!" You yelled out.

"Fucking hell ellie, move out of the way its my turn to fuck the living shit out of her" as abby stood up and pushes ellie out of the way.

Ellie drops down and tumbles to the floor. "WHATS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM ABS? IM GONNA FUCKING STAB YOU IF YOU KEEP DOING THAT YOU SLUT" ellie yells at her.

"Yeah, you can stab me later after i fuck the brains out of this stupid girl" abby replied.

Abby starts kissing and making out with your sloppy cunt aggresively. Her saliva mixed with your juices. "ngghh- shoot im gonna fucking cum!" You shouted.

"Fuck this abby, i want her to cum on my stupid fucking face. IM HER FUCKING GIRLFRIEND! MOVE" ellie pushes abby and quickly eats you out.

A loud groan leaves your mouth as you came all over ellie's face making her satisfied. "Okay, now can you move?" Abby asks ellie in an annoyed tone.

"Fine whatever" ellie rolled her eyes and moved back. Abby sudenlly flips your body bruising you a bit. "The fuck abby? Could you be more careful with her?!"

"Shut up" she replied. Abby pulls down her pants revealing her black strap-on. Oh fuck- i mean its so big... if you could see it you'd probably think i wont fit at all.

Without hesitation, abby shoves her strap in you causing a little shock to you. "Fuck abby!" You yelled out.

She went back and forth. Fast, and i mean fast. You felt like she was about to cut you in half. Not like she hasn't tried doing that to you in more brutal way.

Abby looks at ellie. "Won't you just sit on her fucking face?" She said smirking. "Sure she could breathe?" Ellie asked grinning. You managed to choke up some words "Please just fucking sit on me"

"Your so desperate. Getting all nasty to be fucked by literal serial killers" ellie said holding your chin so you could face her. then she kissed your lips.

Abby got off of you and flipped your small body again from the floor.

Ellie took off her coat, her pants.... and her boxers. She went on top of your face, hovering on top of your lips. Your lips are just a few inches from her cunt.

Then she sat on your lips, bumping her clit on your cute nose, huffing. You twirled around her cunt. "Oh fuck..." ellie groaned.

Suddenly you felt someone breathing on your cunt. Thats when you knew abby was already under you, licking your fucking wet cunt.

You moaned into ellie's cunt from the action. Ellie stopped and when off you.

She kissed you on the lips and whispered into your ear "you know we're not done with you right, doll?"

The night would never end. Maybe it will, if the god damn cops caught you getting your brains fucked out by two serial killers.

౨ৎ

KAY THIS WAS NASTYYYY ANYWHO IM SOOO PROUD OF THIS AND SO HAPPY THAT I COULD POST THIS TODAYYYY!!! Lately been sooo obsessed with scream like i wish i watched it sooner!!!!ALSO PLS DONT ASK WHAT HAPPENDS TO DINA NEXT LIKE GIRL GOT STABBED AND IGNORE THE FACT THEY DID A FUCKING THREESOME NEAR DINAS (dead??? Idfk) BODY. LETS JUST HOPE SHES OK😭

#ellie x reader #ellie williams #lesbian #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #scream #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson ghostface #ellie williams ghostface #ghostface #Ghostface smut #Ellabs #ellabs x reader #Billy loomis #Stu macher #Sidney prescott

[atinylittlepain]

Part One

no outbreak!joel miller x f!oc

series playlist

joel miller masterlist

series masterlist

She's tired. He's tired. They're neurotic. They're in love. Something needs to change. They need to change.

word count | 4.5K

chapter content info | 18+ angst, discussions of pregnancy, people being WASPy, marital squabbles that become something more serious some of the time, but also real, persistent love

a/n | listen, don't look at me. not gonna lie, it feels good to be back in the ring and i'm excited to share this one with y'all. special thanks to @wannab-urs for beta-ing and for encouraging me along with this one - love ya, twin.

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He looks handsome and he’s getting on her nerves. She looks beautiful and he still doesn’t think it’s a good idea for her to go to this. She knows he doesn’t think it’s a good idea for her to go to this, but she thinks that’s bullshit, kid gloves that she doesn’t need from him, or from anyone for that matter. 

He could, but he doesn’t tell her that her left eye is twitching a little bit. Her left eye is twitching a little bit, she blinks hard every time she feels muscle starting to spasm, keeps her face turned away from him and toward the passenger side window. 

“What is it?”

“What?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You keep sighing.” 

“I’m just tired.”

“It’s ten in the morning.”

“It’s been a long week.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“I meant last week then.” 

“Are you taking those multivitamins I got you?” 

“Uh, yeah.”

“I checked the bottle this morning and the safety seal is still on it.” 

“Cass.”

“What?”

“I don’t think a multivitamin is going to be the thing that makes me feel less tired.”

“I hate it when you say my name like that.”

“Okay, how should I say it?”

“Nevermind.” 

“What?”

“It’s fine, okay? Let’s just drop it, I don’t want to start the day like this.” 

“We’re not starting the day like anything, we’re just having a conversation.”

“Joel, please, I’m not doing this with you right now.” And he asks it before he can think much about it, knee-jerk and maybe a little mean, did you take your pills this morning?  Right, going for the nuclear option this morning, she lets out a clipped sound that could be a laugh if it wasn’t so sharp and he wishes there were a way to pluck words out of the air and swallow them back down. And she knows that whatever she says to that is going to be a failure. If she gets angry, if she blows up, she’s crazy. If she informs him that she did, in fact, take her pills, then she’s a liar, because she did, in fact, not take her pills, so she’s even crazier, right. 

“You know, that’s a fucked thing to ask me.” Ring the bell because she’s won this round. He thinks about offering her an apology, a glance while they’re stopped at a red light that only affords him the slope of her cheek and her hair tucked behind her ear with the way her face is turned away from him. He sighs and it makes her shoulders hike up a little higher. 

There’s a spiral of pink balloons wrapped around the porch banister when they pull up, and of course there is a spiral of pink balloons wrapped around the porch banister, she thinks, because Tommy and Maria are having a girl, and that’s lovely, and she is going to smile when she gets out of the car because of how lovely that is. Already thinking about what her face will have to do to make that smile happen while he parks at the end of the driveway because they’re a little late, always a little late these days. At least they have a clear and present escape route, he thinks. 

“Here, let me.” He does, stays still while she runs her fingers up behind the collar of his shirt to smooth it down, and she thinks that she’s not the only one trying to buy a little more time. Made it out of the car, but still standing in front of the car, he has always liked the feeling of her palms splayed over his chest, hums and thanks her for fixing his collar, leans in for a quick smacking thing of a kiss that she gives back to him all ease, and he thinks that maybe they’ll get to be normal today. 

“Remind me again what we got them?”

“Bottle warmer and a set of swaddling blankets.”

“What, they can’t use hot water from the tap like everyone else?” That gets him a clipped laugh from her, and he knows he’s bordering on something tender that could snap and snarl if he says any more, so he takes the laugh and leaves it at that. She laughs, feels stupid for the heat that thickens and closes in behind it and hides the flush from him by collecting the gifts from the trunk. Pastel pink and perfect wrapping paper with thin ribbon curled and bouncing. She briefly considers how it would feel to rip it all to pieces. But no, none of that, because this is Tommy and Maria, and she loves Tommy and Maria, really, she does, so happy for Tommy and Maria. Happy, happy, happy. 

Maria is the one who opens the door, all smiles, all round because she made it to the third trimester. He glances at Cass as they enter into the usual greetings and congratulations, leaning hugs and Tommy somewhere in the fray. Cassandra thinks she’s doing a good job of smiling but she can’t really feel her mouth, letting her lungs collapse a little when Tommy pulls her in for a quick squeeze, hey, Cassie, good to see you. And maybe it’s the lack of pills in her system but is he? Is it? Verging a little close to hostage negotiator territory? Talking to her like she’s a skittish horse? Because, apparently, it’s not just Joel, but the whole clan who seems to expect her to have a hard time with this. His and Tommy’s parents smile and pet at her shoulders when they see her, that same so good to see you, as if they didn’t just see her a month ago for the fourth of July barbecue, as if she’s the one who’s–

“I appreciate y’all being here, I know Maria does too.” Everyone in the backyard even though it’s already pushing eighty degrees, linen dresses and blue jeans and fluted glasses filled with orange juice and something a little stiffer. He squints at Tommy, nods, of course, lets his eyes drift out over mingling friends and family, settling on Cass. She’s smiling, mouth moving around easy words in a small cluster of women. Her arm is curled across her stomach, elbow held in hand, drink held aloft. She is doing fine, he thinks, good. And of course she’s doing fine, everything fine, and he’s fine too. Her eyes catch his and her smile stays, and he feels one of his own, there and gone. They are doing fine.

“Is Cass, you know, doing alright?”

“Oh yeah, she’s doing fine.”

She can feel sweat starting to collect along the waistband of her underwear, a cool, nauseous shiver, so terrible running beneath the skin. Someone, she can’t remember the name, a friend of Maria’s, is saying something about tits. Well, she doesn’t use the word tits, no, that word couldn’t come out of her baby pink painted lips. Breasts, and Cassandra curls her lips back into her mouth to stop herself from offering up mammary glands, if you want to be so proper about it, smiling and mmhmming instead about stretch marks and leakage and sore, seaming skin. Not that she’d know anything about it, not really. But all the other women do, something close to sharing war stories, all the space the body can make, and what remains when it’s empty once again. Now that, empty, she knows a thing or two about empty. 

“You hear from Sarah lately?” 

“You wanna know what I hear from her? Is mom there? And then can you put her on?” Tommy laughs, continuing to make quick work out of carving up another watermelon, pink, pink, pink while Joel enjoys a second to breathe in the air conditioned kitchen. Almost eleven, and they’re going to do cake at almost eleven, and he supposes he doesn’t really know what the etiquette is for things like these so sure, he thinks, cake at almost eleven.

“I guess dad’s advice can only work for so long, huh?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s a freshman in college, man, you don’t remember what we were like at that age?” 

“I’d rather not, thanks.” And the truth is he remembers very little of that time. Playing at boy king, at living forever, and then the flashbang burst and bloom, obliteration and letting the shrapnel boomerang back together when Sarah came. And then, he thinks, back out on the porch and squinting at the sun threaded through the branches of an elm tree, then, it was a sort of crawl in those first few years. 

What he remembers, very little eye contact from anyone, and wanting it more than anything. Never expecting the father to be the one to stay, the very young, very bleary-eyed father who eventually learned to stop looking for other eyes to meet his. Yes, a crawl, kept his head down until one day, two-year-old in tow in the grocery store, looking at pouches of pureed sweet potatoes and peaches, someone ducked her head down alongside his, looked him in the eye, and asked him if it was his wallet she found at the end of the aisle. For the record, it wasn’t his, but he can’t remember who it got returned to any more. That Tina Turner song was playing over the speakers, he remembers that. What’s love got to do with it, what’s love got to do with a HEB on a Wednesday night? Just enough for him to keep going to the HEB on Wednesday nights, hoping to run into the woman who looked him in the eye and told him his daughter was beautiful and had his smile.

“How many do you and Joel have, Cassandra?” Must have been smiling and nodding a little too well to get that question from Sally, Sammy? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t care. Maria needs better friends, she thinks, or maybe just less of them for her to keep track of. 

“Oh, just one. Sarah started college this year actually.” And the usual sequence of snobbery that follows her sharing that detail. Yes, had her very young, yes, must be so proud, and she is proud, she can mean that yes, at least. 

“But she’s not yours, is that right?”

“Excuse me?” Excuse you, Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck you are. Excuse you in your baby blue linen dress and your fuckass bob. Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck she is, eats her words fast, quick flickers of french tips and well, I just mean, not yours biologically, you know, I think Maria mentioned something about you adopting her when you and Joel got married. Said with that pitch that winches higher and higher with each word like a question going nowhere. She clasps her hands behind her back and digs her nails into the soft of her palms until the urge to throttle Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck she is passes.

“Yeah, well, she’s not mine in that way. But I’ve been in her life since she was two so, I think that matters a little more than if she slid out of my vagina.” Shit, slipped, should not have said that, gets a glossed gasp from the peanut gallery and she’s just glad Maria is off hostessing with other people right now, not bearing witness to the way she just slaughtered this conversation with the sharp of her words. Excuse her Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck you are, and excuse her, all the rest of you, she needs to get out of the heat, out of the sun, out of whatever this is. 

He knows what looks mean what by now. A pinched brow, a frown that’s just barely a frown. She breezes past the kitchen with one hand pressed high against her stomach as if to make sure the rise and fall is still happening. Says her name once and she waves a hand behind her, already halfway down the hall and not turning around now,  sorry, just need the bathroom. Tommy’s eyes do that thing, that softening, slipping thing, looking at him and not asking the question, though it hangs in the air somewhere between them. He excuses himself, walks slowly enough that the bathroom door is already shut and locked by the time he gets to it. The faucet is running, all he hears when he says her name again, feeling like a perfect fool knocking on the door. Not the first time this has happened, and she feels more foolish every time it does. But he’s already asked her if she’s taken her pills today so at the very least, that question is out of the way. Or maybe he’ll ask it again, and maybe she’ll break something, and then report back to her OB-GYN who, for some reason, is the one prescribing her these pills, and tell her OB-GYN that she’s getting crazier and needs more pills that she’ll forget to take. Repeat ad nauseam. No, she thinks, too tired for any of that, two years too tired. She presses her fingers into her temples and closed eyes until the throb in her skull begins to still.

“Do you want to go home?” He doesn’t know how to handle this, not really. Seems to get it wrong more often than not, and sometimes his own frustration turns into meanness that makes it worse, he knows that. He doesn’t know how to deal with her any more, she knows that. The truth is she doesn’t even know how to deal with herself any more, everything always raw and hurting, blistered brain and aching heart and wilting like a frail, flimsy thing. She does alright keeping it tamped down most of the time, keeping it cool and closed off. But, there are times when it flares, like a thin flume of disease nested somewhere deep inside of her. During things like these, around people like these, and the month of April, forget about it. 

“I said something a little awful, I think.” Sheepish, the door still only cracked, enough that he can see that she isn’t crying so, little lift of relief in his chest, at least. 

“What’s that?” He slips in through the half-opened door and she lets him, shuts the door behind him and tells him, may have snapped, may have used the word vagina. It’s a relief to hear him laugh, a single breath of it like he’s not sure if he should. He touches her hand, her wrist, her elbow, little pulse points, half a tired smile.

“There are worse words to use.”

“Could have said cunt.” She shrugs and you’d think he’d have gotten used to her surprising him like that after sixteen years together, but it’s still a giddy little shock to the system, her brass and brash. Like another vital sign, so long as she has her fang she’s fine, at least he thinks so.

“Yeah, that.” He laughs again, coughs, heat flushing down fast in his face and there’s a quick kick in her chest at the sight, something dormant getting stirred up. She likes that look, coaxing that look out of him. The first time, way out of line and out of place, she thinks. Fresh out of college and buying condoms and pretzel rods at the HEB down the block from her apartment and she shouldn’t have, pretty guy, man, father with pretty brown eyes and a little girl in the seat of his shopping cart with pretty brown eyes like his and she shouldn’t have. Thought she was so smooth, pretending like the wallet she showed him wasn’t hers, like she had found it on the linoleum floor, yeah, so smooth, just looking for a reason to shuffle down the baby food aisle and talk to pretty guy, man, father. That same flush, that same smile, little shock, though he had caught her too, taking a sharp glance down at her basket before she could tuck it behind her legs. And then her turn, little shock when he made some joke about little late for me, for that, shrug and smile and yes, she thinks, she didn’t exactly love him right then and there, but whatever comes right before love, it was that. 

“Listen, if it’s getting to be too much for you we can–” Wrong, all wrong, sound in the back of her throat like a scoff that’s how wrong those words were.

“Why does everyone seem to think this is too much for me? It’s a fucking baby shower, not a, I don’t even know what. I’m fine, it’s fine. It’s Tommy’s and Maria’s day and I’m so happy for them that they’re having a–” It catches her off guard, the way the sound gets stuck in her throat, not quite a sob, but verging on it, hiccuping out the rest, a baby. He reaches for her arm again but she jerks it away, hands clasping opposite elbows, all tucked in on herself. 

“It’s okay if it’s not fine, you know, nobody is expecting you to–”

“Nobody is expecting me to keep it together, right?”

“Would you let me finish speaking?” No, never winning any points for patience, ever. Not too many for thinking before he speaks either. Her face crumples for a breath, if that, smoothing back out with a scoff, I’m so sorry, Joel, what were you going to say? No, not normal, not today. He wonders briefly how long they’ve been in the bathroom now, and whether they’ve been speaking loudly enough to draw attention to the fact of how long they’ve been in the bathroom now.

“You know what, forget it. If you say you’re fine then I guess you’re fine. Can we just get through fucking cake and leave, please?” She’s very good at this, at turning herself off, something cool and distant slipping over her eyes, her face, shoulders rolled back sharp. Of course, she says, whatever you say, she says, doesn’t give him another glance as she opens the bathroom door. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t standing here long, just waiting to use the–” 

“Cunt.”

“I’m sorry?” 

“Cut– I had a cut and I needed Joel to look at it but I’m fine, right, Joel? Aren’t I fine?” She doesn’t give him a chance to answer that, doesn’t give Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck she is a chance to say any more either, already moving past both of them and back toward the sound of laughter and cake, fucking cake about to happen. 

He needs to keep his mouth shut, all he can figure. Keep his mouth shut and maybe, maybe, they’ll get through fucking cake without any more seams splitting. Nothing like this when Sarah came, no balloons, no perfectly frosted and tiered cake with a whole cluster of people around it, and he thinks briefly that maybe he’s the one who isn’t fine being here. Like an ache, or an absence, a place inside of him that has been scooped out and left empty. He doesn’t let himself get sad about it often, mostly because he’s too busy being angry about it with (at?) Cass. But he feels it now, a sinking, swimming feeling that weighs everything down, slow to smile when Maria hands him a plate with a slice of cake on it. 

She takes a plate and pushes around globs of pink icing with her fork for a while, standing in another cluster of people she doesn’t really know, one of the women commenting on how good she’s being when she sets her plate down on the kitchen counter, smile and laugh, though the truth is she’s not sure she could stomach pretty pink icing right now. A small mercy when Tommy steps over alongside her and effectively relieves her of having to continue pretending to be interested in a conversation about kitchen remodels. 

“Looking a little green, Cassie, you alright?”

“I think the heat got to me, but I’ll survive. Congratulations again, you guys are going to be great, really.” And she hopes he interprets the pitch, the little catch of her words as a good emotion that is entirely for him and his family. Not anything else, not anything that would be entirely ridiculous and well, crazy, on her part. 

“I just want to say thank you again for giving us all that furniture, and the clothes, we really–”

“Oh of course, Tom, you did us a favor taking all that stuff. It’s not like we were going to–” Going to what? She doesn’t finish that sentence, and Tommy doesn’t need her to, already nodding, already that look in his eyes that she has come to recognize as thinly-concealed pity. Not like they were ever going to have a use for that furniture, those clothes, not again, not after. A foreclosed room in their house that stayed as silent and shut up as a tomb, and then the happy, happy, happy news from Tommy and Maria and of course, they said, take whatever you want, take it all, actually. The room is empty now. The door stays closed. 

He wants to leave and he wants to leave now. The walls creeping in closer and that hollow thing in between his ribs starting to ache and twinge. He catches her eyes from across the room and it takes little else for a knowing to pass between them, both of them already moving, already starting a string of polite goodbyes, friends and family, sorry, yes, really have to go, it’s becoming hard to breathe, really have to go. 

Early in the afternoon and the sun so bright it makes him a little dizzy when they step outside. He follows the sound of her heels on the sidewalk back to the car, relief in the closing of the door, in settling into the driver’s seat. 

She feels like her brain is deflating in her skull. Enough normal for the day, don’t ask her for any more than that. She props her head in her hand and lets her eyes unfocus, turning the suburban streets they're driving through into pale blurs of minivans and basketball hoops. And there is little fanfare to what happens next, she glances at him once, then looks out the window, hears a metallic clink, and when she looks at him again, there’s a cigarette dangling from his lips. It’s so absurd, so out of nowhere, that she has to laugh. 

“Since when do you smoke?”

“I don’t know. Tommy’s a bad influence.”

“Tommy quit.”

“Well then I did him a favor finishing off all his packs.”

“Joel.”

“Yes?”

“How did I miss you picking up smoking again?”

“It’s not like I do it around the house, I know you don’t like the smell.”

“Oh, but you’re happy to trap me in the car with it?” 

“The windows are down.”

“Secondhand smoke.”

“Would you prefer to get out at the next red light?” 

“You know, you’re probably gonna die before me. Then what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m serious. Statistically speaking, men die first–”

“I wonder why.”

“Cardiac events.”

“That tracks.” 

“You’re already two years older than me and now you’re doing shit like this and I’m probably gonna be like, sixty-eight and a widow, and then I’ll die of stress from being a sixty-eight-year-old widow.” 

“Are you done?” 

“Oh fuck you–”

“Hey.”

“No, what next, huh? Are you gonna ask me if I took my pills again?”

“Well, did you?” 

“That’s not the point.”

“Jesus Christ, Cass, it’s like you don’t even want to get better, you don’t even try.” Silence, she doesn’t fire back, doesn’t make a sound, her lips parted around a wordless frown. The only noise is the turn signal clicking as he pulls into a gas station, his heart sunk down low in his chest, shrinking back in on itself. Too far, too mean, and not even knowing what he was saying until he said it, until she was looking at him in a devastated crumple. 

He parks beside a pump but doesn’t get out, doesn’t move at all, really. Waiting. For what, he isn’t sure. When he looks at her again, that stricken look is gone, something slackening, something tired settled in its place. 

“Do you remember when you stopped shaving and you asked me if your beard looked stupid and I told you it didn’t?” 

“Uh, yes.” 

“I lied. Your beard does look stupid.” And with that, she’s out of her seat, out of the car, and clipping fast toward the convenience store, not sparing him another look. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or scream. 

The light flickers a little in the convenience store bathroom when she flips it on, locking the door behind her just as the first sob shudders up and out of her throat. She doesn’t look in the mirror, she has no use for that, just grips the edge of the sink and allows herself this, a few minutes to get the worst of it out. 

He had finished pumping gas ten minutes ago when she comes back out with a bottle of snapple lemonade tucked under her arm. She has been crying, he can see. He doesn’t know why she always hides it from him. It catches him off guard when she walks around the front of the car to stand in front of his rolled-down window, something bordering on sheepish in the set of her expression, her eyes doing a quick loop from her feet back up to him.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t think your beard is stupid.”

“Okay.”

“I like it, think you look handsome with it.”

“Honey, will you get in the car, please?” She does, offers him the bottle of lemonade and they both take a swig, waiting for whatever words are supposed to come next. A car honks at them, still at the pump, and he has enough sense to wave an apology behind his head and pull over into a parking spot instead.

“I’m sorry for what I said. Cass? That was a stupid thing for me to say. I didn’t mean that.” She wants to say no, not a stupid thing to say, not unfair, not really. But that would be an admission she doesn’t want to make, so she nods, accepts his apology, both of them having a hard time looking at the other, suddenly so interested in the brick wall of the convenience store. 

“We can’t keep doing this.” She doesn’t realize how much she means that until she’s done saying it. Finally saying it, this truth they have been scrapping and snapping around for months now. He says, no, we can’t, and she braces for impact, anticipating the worst, the nuclear option, and she wouldn’t blame him for it. But that blow doesn’t come. He takes her hand over the center console, as simple as anything, and she is reminded again of how much she loves him. 

“Something has to change.”

“I think so.”

“We can figure this out, can’t we?”

“It’s us.” As if that’s an answer, though he still nods, repeats it back to her, it’s us. It’s them. They can’t keep doing this. They have to change. They can figure this out, can’t they?

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!oc

[loveronlineee]

Different (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Masterlist

Eddie Munson x Reader (She/Her)

Warnings: None

Synopsis: Eddie takes interest in the school’s resident goodie two shoes over achiever, but a new look leaves him speechless

Y/N notes: None

Wanna be on the Eddie Munson tag list? Look here!

Wanna request something? Look here!

“Hey guys I’m going round the lunch hall to get people’s opinion on the school lunches. The school council’s gotten some complaints so I’m gathering info.”

“You sure you don’t just want an excuse to talk to me?” Eddie tilted his head back so he could see Y/N standing behind him. She didn’t look up from her clipboard.

“Nope. You guys got anything to say or should I move on?” The other boys shook their heads. Y/N nodded.

“Cool thanks.” She began to walk away when Eddie held an arm out to stop her.

“Where you going in such a hurry?”

“To the next table Eddie. I need to finish this for the school council, eat my lunch, look over my study notes for English class then organise the cheer squad for this afternoon-“

“You cheerleaders and your-“

“Not a cheerleader. You see me wearing one of those short skirts?” Y/N snapped back.

“No but I wish I did.” Eddie smirked.

“Well unfortunately for you, I’m just the cheer squad organiser.” She quickly replied before pushing Eddie’s arm away and heading to the next table.

“Why do you keep trying with her?” Dustin questioned.

“Because Henderson, she’s the only girl who would give me the time of day.”

“Only because she’s obligated to by the school council.” Mike laughed. Eddie shrugged it off.

Y/N had always been at least civil with him, unlike everyone else. She never looked at him like he was weird, which seemed like the bare minimum but when you’re labeled the school freak, it means a lot.

Although more recently, she had been annoyed with him, but for good reason.

He was being annoying.

He tapped her on the opposite shoulder when he passed her in the hall, leaned on her locker when she needed to get something out of it, stole the pen she was using to study in the library…

But no matter what he did, he could still see in her eyes that she didn’t dislike him. He was a mild annoyance at most.

———————————————————————

Eddie walked out of the Hellfire club and into the dark parking lot. Some of the cheerleaders and basketball guys were still hanging out after the game. He looked around but couldn’t see Y/N. She must have gone home already.

He waved goodbye to his friends and began heading to his van, when he heard a locking of a door. He looked to his left to see Y/N walking away from the storage closet, keys swinging around in her hand.

“Y/N?” Eddie questioned. He almost didn’t recognise her in that outfit.

A cheerleader set.

Y/N clocked him and sighed.

“Well Eddie I guess you got your wish.” She waved her arms around in annoyance. “Coach said I should match the other girls. Fuckin old pervert.” She muttered under her breath.

“U-Uhh…” Eddie found himself unable to speak. Yeah he knew Y/N was pretty but she always dressed practically. He had never seen her like this before.

“I know. I look stupid. You don’t have to say anything-“

“No. No you look… hot. You’re hot.” Eddie said, accidentally letting his thoughts spill out his mouth. Y/N chuckled and shook her head, not entirely believing him.

“Yeah thanks Eddie. Well take it all in cause you’re never gonna see me like this again!” Y/N shouted back as she headed for her car.

Eddie smirked and tilted his head as he watched.

“Oh I am.”

#eddie munson x reader #reader x Eddie Munson #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things season 4 #stranger things season four

[wildflowercryptid]

now that kieran's champ look dropped, i could finally draw their mjverse designs for indigo disk. there's a 1 year timeskip between the 2 dlcs in my canon so i wanted to make them look a lil different to show that passage of time, ( carmine's not here bc i don't really see her look changing much. )

some info about what juliana and florian were up to during that 1 year gap under the cut! ⤵

JULIANA : after attaining her champion title and helping solve the team star situation, juliana's skills as a battler have become pretty well known around paldea. this new status initially ostracized her a bit from her peers, much like what nemona experienced, but she was able to show others that she was still just as approachable as she was before by tutoring some fellow students that wished to improve their battling skills. she's also realized that she really loves teaching others and is pretty damn good at it, too.

besides battling, juliana has also found a love of art thanks to hassel's art class. if you couldn't find her at the academy's battlefield, she'd most likely be working on a new piece in the art room. as a result, a lot of her clothes have speckled with paint ( like her favorite sneakers. ) seeing her passion for art and hoping to help her hone her skills, hassel took up the position as her mentor and is a great source of encouragement and support for her. juliana has also started dating penny soon after the end of post-game story.

FLORIAN : after getting back to mezagoza from his trip to kitakami, florian was a bit of an emotional wreak ( to say the least. ) he spent well over a month languishing over what happened with kieran, most of it spent moping around juliana and his shared dorm room while listening to heartbreak playlists. the rest was spent coming to the realization that his skills as a battler were still severely lacking. his last battle with kieran was an extremely close call, he only barely won with the skills he had gained during his journey through paldea. with how things were, there was no way he could fufill the duties of a pokémon professor if he couldn't effectively protect the pokémon entrusted to him, let alone himself or others he cares about. he couldn't keep resting on his laurels, he had to work towards improving himself.

so, for the past year, florian's poured himself into improving his battling skills with nemona and his sister's help. while he still isn't on their level, he's become quite the formidable battler. ogrepon, which he's given the nickname "pon-pon," has also become a staple of his team. the rest of his time is dedicated towards studying in the hopes of becoming pasio's next pokémon professor, being the most interested in mythology and terastallization. he still talks to arven frequently after he ( finally ) graduated, along with becoming friends with ortega and atticus. he even dated ortega briefly, but it was very clear that florian was still hung up on kieran so the relationship didn't last long, ( they're still good friends, though. )

when cyrano approaches the cavallari siblings and asks them to come to blueberry academy as exchange students, florian accepts the offer without hesitation. this could be his only chance to reconcile with kieran so there's no way he'd pass it up. juliana is happy to tag along since a school that focuses on battling sounds right up her alley, that and she's still peeved about not getting to go to kitakami. though, she's a little concerned for her brother and what may be waiting for him when they get there.

#i rambled under the cut please forgive me #i just needed to get my ideas out for the cavallari sibs #i don't know any spoilers but i just know a storm's brewing for florian #which i may end up pushing further if the plot allows it who knows #but yeah here are my kids enjoy #pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #pkmn scarvio #trainer juliana #trainer florian #rival kieran #pokemon kieran #hc : (pkmn) mjverse #chara : juliana sigal cavallari #chara : florian russel cavallari #chara : kieran hinoki #🎨 : mj draws #sv dlc spoilers #indigo disk spoilers

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for moving a box of spaghetti?

I (24F) live with my retired parents (66M, 66F). I pay rent (though significantly below market rate) and I pay for all my own expenses (groceries, insurances, phone, etc.). I also provide free live-in pet care when my folks travel, which they tend to do for weeks at a time.

My mom is kind of a control freak about the house. I am not allowed to have visitors, or any belongings outside the confines of my room. She also used to extend this to my room, but not since I turned 18. When I was in high school, I had to secretly buy and assemble a desk while she was at work because she thought a desk would "ruin the aesthetic" of my room. The only exception to the "no stuff" rule is in the kitchen, as perishable foods don't really do well in bedrooms.

She has decided it is her New Project to segregate all of their food from my food. I don't have an issue with that in itself. However, she is intent on doing it completely unilaterally. She first did the freezer, which she showed me excitedly. I was like "Oh, cool. Do you think we could switch which drawer is mine? I was used to using this one". And she absolutely freaked out, because I am not a ROOMMATE, I am a GUEST, and how DARE I have the ENTITLEMENT to tell HER where to put things in the house SHE OWNS. Please note that here she is screaming so loud that my friend, waiting for me outside, could hear her from their car.

We had a similar exchange when she showed me the fridge! I didn't have an issue with the actual organization there, but I was still like "hey you seem really stoked to show me this. I wish you would communicate about it beforehand though. Even if you're going to do it anyway, I feel like it's an act of respect to let me know what your plan is before you just start touching and moving my stuff". That again, didn't go well.

Today she decided to tackle the pantry. At this point this is a sore spot for me. I am like, physically holding myself back from heckling her as she does this. It doesn't help that she started doing this right before I was about to make myself breakfast so I am Hangry. She finishes like, an hour and a half later. I make my food. I notice that the way she has arranged my pasta, you can't get at any of the stuff without taking it all out of the cabinet. I fix it while still keeping all of my stuff on My side, but I have to remove a box of spaghetti because it doesn't fit quite right. I put it on the counter while I clean my pan because I'm not sure how I'm going to address it. I am definitely aware there is a chance I'm going to get yelled at, but I move it anyway.

While I'm scrubbing, my mom comes into the kitchen, sees the spaghetti box on the counter, and starts screaming bloody murder at me, at "audible down the street" levels. To the point where I was very viscerally upset for hours.

I obviously know that the severity of her reaction is literally insane, especially because I didn't even yell back at her. However, I'm torn on how justified I actually am in wanting to be included in the organization of the kitchen. AM I being entitled about this? Should I just let my mom do what she wants or should I keep trying to advocate for myself?

#aita #am i the asshole

[acewritesfics]

Mama Bear | Tommy Shelby

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Nora + Bess

Request: No but @runnning-outof-time's interest kept me encouraged and motivated to write it.

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: Swearing. Smoking. Threats being made. Inspector Campbell being a prick. Slight Grace bashing. Nora protecting her family and being a mama bear. Someone gets called a whore [hint: it's not Lizzie]. A six-year-old in the pub. Tommy and Nora's daughter's name in this is Elizabeth but she gets called Bess or Bessie. Also crayola crayons came out in 1903 but were invented in 1902, useless fact, I know... 

Word Count: 1,971

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST || TAG LIST SIGN-UP

"Give Tommy and Elizabeth my love," Nora’s mother, Marion, tells her as she stands up to leave. "Hopefully I'll see you all at church on Sunday." 

"You know I can't make any promises, mother," She says also standing up. "I'll make sure to give Tommy and Bessie your love," She adds as her mum pulls her in for a hug.  

"I really wish you would stop calling your daughter Bessie," Marion sighs as she pulls away from her daughter. 

"Don't start, we had such a lovely lunch together," She frowns at her, already felling annoyed at her mothers insistence to see them on Sunday.. "And you know she prefers Bessie over Elizabeth." 

"I'll see you Sunday," Marion says ignoring what she said as she leaves the restaurant. 

"I doubt it," Nora mumbles to herself as she picks up her purse. Sunday is hers and Tommy’s day where they solely focus on there daughter. No outside family or work. It’s just the three of them and it’s been that way since Bess was born. 

As Nora goes to leave she sees someone who makes her blood boil in the worst kind of way. Walking over to him, her mind goes back to the events of the day before. Ada and Polly had taken Bessie and Finn to the park for a few hours and had been spotted by Inspector Campbell who grabbed Bessie's arm and threatened to have her removed from her's and Tommy's custody.  

When Tommy and Nora arrived home from the races, a frightened Bessie ran up to them crying about a man telling Auntie Polly and Auntie Ada that he was going to take her away from them. When Polly explained to them what happened, Nora and Tommy were about to go murder the Irish inspector. But reassuring their daughter that mummy and daddy would never let that happen was more important.  

Polly told them that she made sure he knew he was crossing a line and that she has their backs if something were to happen to him as well as threatening to cut his hands off if he touched her again. 

"Well isn't this a pleasant surprise, Inspector," she plasters a fake smile on her face as she sits across from him, sipping his tea. 

He looks at her a little surprised. "Mrs Shelby, I wasn't expecting to see you here." 

"That's odd, since you've been following my family around since you've been here," she says trying to keep the venom from her voice. "I was just having lunch with my mother. I saw you on my way out and thought we could have a little chat." 

"Don't you have to get back to that criminal husband of yours?" He says seeming anxious to get rid of her.  

"Do you see a leash around my neck?" She asks him, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.  

"Why are you with a man like him?" he asks her. "He'll only get you and your daughter hurt, maybe even killed. He's bad news and you and Bessie," he ignores the glare she sends him when he mentions her daughters nickname. "Deserve better than that." 

"You see, Tommy is a lot of things, Inspector," she begins. "But he's my husband and my daughter's father, first and foremost, and if you think for a second that you can turn me against him by saying all that, you should think again," she continues, leaning in closer and pointing the fingers that are holding her cigarette at him. "And if you continue to use my daughter as leverage in whatever game you're playing with him, you won't only have Thomas Shelby to worry about." 

"Is that a threat, Mrs. Shelby?" he asks, visibly gulping. The bite in her words and fire in her eyes told the inspector she's a woman of her word and that if he didn't fear Tommy, he should certainly fear her. She was not only a woman protecting her husband but a mother protecting her cub. 

"Oh no, darling," she leans back in the chair, crossing her legs, with one arm across her stomach while the other brings her cigarette back to her lips. She takes one last drag on her cigarette before crushing it into the ashtray on the table. Uncrossing her legs, she stands up from her seat. "Think of it as a friendly promise." 

"We're not friends," he frowns up at her. 

"And we never will be with that attitude," she scoffs. "But if you would rather I threaten you," she starts, as she moves closer and leans over him. "You touch my daughter again and it'll be the last thing you ever do." 

She stands up straight and goes to step away from him when she turned back around. "And if I were you, I'd send Grace back to Ireland or to where the hell she wants to go. Would hate for something to happen to her when the other's finally see the truth about her."  

"You know about Grace?" He looks at her surprised and a little worried for the blonde 'barmaid'. "Are you worried she'll steal your husband?" 

"I know more than you think," she smiles. "If you think your blonde whore can steal my husband, you're a bigger fool than I thought. In fact you two are perfect for each other. Idiots, the both of you," she adds and pats his cheek. "Enjoy the rest of your day, Inspector."  

Leaving the restaurant, she makes her way to the Garrison. 

Nora enters the Garrison, finding only Grace behind the bar. She's leaning in close to the wall of the snug as if she's trying to listen in on whoever is in there. Nora knew it would be Tommy, Arthur and John since they were the only ones who used it. Rolling her eyes, she makes her way over to the bar.  

"You might as well have your ear against the wall," she says startling the barmaid spy. "I'll bet I can guess what you're listening in on." 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Grace tries to deny having being caught eavesdropping.  

"Gosh, I really hope Bess isn't giving her dad and uncles too much trouble. That girl can be a handful when she wants to be. She gets that from her Uncle John," Nora smiles, this was her way of reminding Grace of where she stood. Not only was Grace unknowingly revealing her intentions for working there, she'd taken a liking to Tommy that was a little more than him being her and Campbell's target. "She has her Uncle Arthur's temper though. But then again all the Shelby's have that temper and they can hold a grudge well too. You really wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of them."  

"Why do I get the feeling that you're trying to warn about something?" 

"I would hate for something to happen to the pretty face of yours," she says not bothering to hide her intentions in her words. 

"Look, I don't know-" she begins only to be cut off but the snug door opening and Tommy walking out.  

"Hello, Love," he greets his wife, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "How was lunch with Marion?"  

"It went well," she smiles. "She's invited us to church on Sunday. And just so you know, you missed." 

"Did I?" he asks, a small smirk making it's way on to his lips. Taking her face in his hands, he plants his lips on hers, making sure to make a show of it. "Better?" he asks when he pulls away. 

"Much better," Patting his chest, she moves past him into the snug. She's surprised to see Bessie's box of crayons and her sketchbook sitting neatly to the side. The little girl loves to draw and takes her drawing book and crayons every where she goes.  

Looking at Bessie, she notices the little girl has playing cards in her hand and a stoic look on her face as she glances at her uncles sitting across from her. 

"Please tell me you're not teaching our daughter to play cards," she says to Tommy as he stands next to her. 

"Our dad started teaching us at her age," Arthur pipes up, his eyes furrowed in concentration as he looks between his cards and Bessie.  

"Next we'll be off to the races, teaching her how to place a bet," John joins in.  

"Remind me why I married into this family again?" she says turning towards Tommy who had moved to sit back down next to Bessie. 

"Because you couldn't resist my charm," Tommy teases smiling up at her and pulling her onto his lap. "And aside from Bessie, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." 

"And he knocked you up." John adds, snickering behind his cards.  

"What does knocked you up mean, mummy?" the soft spoken voice of her daughter asks.  

Nora sends a deadly glare towards John. "I'll explain it when you're older." She turns back to Tommy. "We should head home. I need to talk to you." 

"Can't we talk here?" he asks.  

"I caught her trying to listen in again," she says leaning in to whisper in his ear just incase Grace was standing there with her ear pressed to the wall again. 

"I think it's time we take Bess home," Tommy announces to the room as Nora stands from his lip, picking up Bessie's crayons and book. 

"But Uncle Arthur owes me £1," Bessie whines as she drops her cards on the table. 

"I'll give it to your dad later," Arthur assures her as she shuffles off her chair.  

"She'll hold you too it," Nora warns her brother-in-law from thinking that he can get away from paying his debt to his youngest niece. She helps the six year old into her coat. 

The small family of three say their goodbyes and leave the Garrison, making their way home. 

"Is she alright?" Tommy asks as Nora's arms wrapped around him from behind. She lets out a sigh as she nuzzles her face into his back. Bessie wanted to do some drawing in her bedroom when they got home so Nora had got it all set up for her while Tommy made her some tea. 

"She's perfect," She answers not just talking about their little girls mood.  

Bessie had been born just before the war was declared and Tommy and Nora were married not long before her birth. She was two months old when Tommy and her Uncles were shipped off to France. Every time when Tommy came back on leave she'd grown so much. He'd missed all her milestones but read about it in his wife, his sister and his aunt's letters. Bessie was four when he came home after the war ended and she attached herself to him as if he'd never been gone. She's a daddy's girl and has Tommy wrapped tightly around her finger.  

After he came home, most nights he would spend in her bedroom, sitting on the floor, his back to the wall watching her sleep to remind himself he was safe and at home, that he still has something to live for when it gets too much to bare. His little girl is his guiding light. She's the one who pulls him out of the french tunnels when he finds himself back in them. When he's with her and Nora, the noises stop and visions of the dirty walls fade away. 

So yeah, she's perfect. 

"Are you alright?" He asks turning around in her arms, forgoing the tea he was making.  

"I'll be better once Campbell and Grace are gone," she says looking up into his eyes.  

"Not much longer now, my love," he tells her, leaning his head forward to press a kiss to hers. "You have my word." 

TAGGED: @chapter-in-my-old-diary - @hanawrites404 - @goblinjnr - @halsteadbrasil - @forgottenpeakywriter - @galactict3a

BOLD means your blog didn't come up when I tried to tag you. Sometimes it links after I post but I don't know if you get the notification or not. Here's a post I found that could help: WHY OTHERS CAN'T TAG YOUR BLOG

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#acewritesfics repost #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader

[fluentmoviequoter]

Because of My Family

Requested Here!

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!wife!Street!reader (Street's sister)

Summary: When you return to S.W.A.T. after having your fourth child, you are fatally injured. Your family gives you a reason to fight.

Warnings: angst to fluff, depiction of gunshot wound (r is shot), 20-David is the best group of men in the world

Word Count: 4.0k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Hey, sleepyhead, you’re not on vacation anymore. We gotta get up.”

You sigh and roll closer to Deacon as you argue, “Maternity leave is not vacation. And I’ll remind you that it’s your fault.”

Deacon chuckles as he pushes your hair out of your face and kisses your forehead. “Your brother will kill me if you don’t come in with me.”

“You can take Jim,” you murmur as you press your face against Deacon’s chest. “Do I really have to get up right now?”

“Five minutes,” Deacon answers. “Or I’m pulling you out of bed.”

“I’m sure that was supposed to be a threat, but it didn’t sound like one.”

The baby monitor beside your bed crackles before you hear your family’s newest addition whine. Deacon pats your hip and reminds you to get up as he goes to check on his youngest child. You stand, too, and answer your phone when it rings.

“Good morning,” you greet as you walk to the bathroom to get ready. “And before you ask, yes, I’m up.”

“Whoa, take it easy. I’m just excited to have you back at work,” your brother Street replies. “You plan on being this grumpy all day?”

You chuckle at Street and smile when you hear Deacon having a one-sided conversation.

“Are you nervous?” Street asks.

“No, I’m actually really excited. I’ve loved being home with the kids, but I miss it.”

“You mean you miss me.”

“You’ve been here every single day, Jim. I wish I could miss you, but you don’t let me.”

“You love me.”

“Luckily for you,” you tease.

“How’s Deac? Nervous for you?”

You glance toward the nursery and lower your voice to say, “If he is, he isn’t showing it.”

Street hums before he says, “I’ll see you at HQ. Love you.”

 “I love you, too. See you in a bit.”

You get ready quickly, growing more excited to get back to work. You love your family, but S.W.A.T. has been part of your life for a long time, and you missed it during maternity leave. While you anticipate what your first day may be like, Deacon lets your sitter into the house. When it’s time to leave, Deacon takes your hand and walks you to the car, promising to be by your side at work just as he is at home.

✯✯✯✯✯

“There they are!” Hondo yells when you and Deacon walk into S.W.A.T. HQ.

“So glad to see you,” Luca says. He smiles, hugs you, and whispers, “You look amazing.”

“Thanks, Luca,” you respond. “Thank you, all of you, for everything over the past few months.”

“She’s mostly talking to me,” Street interjects.

“You didn’t do it alone, Street,” Deacon argues.

“Okay,” you call, raising your hands. “Thank you Deacon and Street for single-handedly getting me physically ready to come back to work.”

Street smiles as he says, “You’re welcome.”

“Not like I’m the one who had a baby and then beat my PFQ records or anything.”

“No way!” Luca exclaims. “New records?”

“Shaved five seconds off my run time and got another pull-up. That obstacle course seemed pretty easy after dealing with four kids, too,” you answer.

“Congratulations.”

Hondo is smiling but looking at you a bit too intently. 

“What?” you ask.

“I’m just wondering if we should apologize in advance,” he explains. “We’re going to be more protective than ever.”

“More than these two?” you ask as you point at Deacon and Street.

“Well, there’s more of us now. We just need to make sure you go home to all those babies every night.”

“I appreciate it, Hondo. And, trust me, I remember last time, so I’m prepared for the helicoptering.”

“20-David!” Hicks yells. “50 squad needs backup at a barricade in Norwalk.”

“Let’s roll!” Hondo adds.

Hicks smiles when he sees you, and when Street and Deacon arrange themselves on either side of you, he shakes his head. Whatever level of protectiveness you expect is underestimating how much your team cares about you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Rocker said they were called to a noise disturbance after the suspect barricaded himself in the house and opened fire on the responding patrol officers. Apparently he winged one of them, and they can’t track him in the house,” Hondo explains.

“What’s the plan?” Luca asks from Black Betty’s driver seat.

“50-David tried breaching, but the house has reinforced steel beams, and the pulls didn’t work. They suspect that he has more weaponry, so they don’t want to get too close.”

“What’s behind the house?” you ask.

“Uh, a tiny yard that backs up to an alley,” Street answers, looking at a satellite view of the area. "It has an Abingdon Street address, but there’s an alley between it and the house it backs to on Excelsior Drive.”

“Black Betty can’t pull from an alley, but we can hop a fence,” you suggest.

Hondo nods, flipping the map to find an approach route.

“Three side on the back… If we approach on foot from the other side of the alley, Grayland Avenue, he shouldn’t see us coming,” he says. “Let’s do it. Luca, you’re with me, we’ll join Rocker at Elaine and Abingdon. Street, you and Deacon lead the approach from the back.”

You nod when Hondo tells you to go with Deacon and Street. When Luca turns on to Grayland, you jump out of the back of Black Betty and move down the alley.

“Go inside,” you whisper to a child playing in an unfenced backyard.

Deacon raises a hand and signals for you to stop. Street stops directly to your left and waits for more information from Deacon.

“This is 30-David, I have visual of the house from the back alley. There’s a camera on the opposite corner from my location. Do we know if his surveillance works?” Deacon radios.

“One second, 30-David,” a tech back at HQ replies. “I’ll check.”

“This is a boring story,” Street whispers. “Your first call is a noise complaint gone wrong.”

“The automatic weapon adds a bit of suspense,” you reply with a smile.

“30-David, the camera is a fake. Clear to continue,” the tech alerts.

Deacon gestures for you to follow him in a single-file formation, and you end up in the middle. As you approach the fence, Deacon looks through the boards to see the back of the house and shakes his head.

“The windows are blacked out on this side, too. Except for one in the corner.”

“Then that’s the one we need,” Street replies.

Deacon jumps the fence and raises his weapon to cover the backyard while you and Street join him. He extends an arm toward you quickly when you land but moves it back when you nod.

“30-David, approaching the southeast window,” Deacon radios.

Before you take a step, the window slides open, and the barrel of an automatic rifle comes out. 

“Go, go, go!” Deacon yells, shooting a nonlethal round into the window.

The suspect inside opens fire as the beanbag enters; the firing is unplanned and erratic. You duck toward the ground and follow Deacon toward the opposite side of the house to exfil. 

“Deac, where are those shots coming from?” Hondo demands.

“Southeast window!” Deacon answers. “We’re moving to the west side.”

“Deac!” you call, watching as a matching window on the west side comes into view.

“Hondo, we’re stuck in a corner,” Street says. “Now would be a great time to say you have a plan!”

“We’re working on something, hold tight.”

“Kind of hard to do with someone shooting at us,” you mutter.

“Where’d he go?” Street asks.

“Both windows are closed now,” Deacon answers. “Maybe he saw the cops out front.”

You shake your head and point to a window further up. It’s blacked out but slightly ajar, so you suspect he’s still on this side of the house.

“Hondo,” Deacon radios. “Get a plan.”

“We’re trying, Deac,” Hondo answers.

“Try faster,” you add.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Luca, how would you feel about running Black Betty into the front of the house?” Hondo asks.

“What? Why?” Luca asks.

“They’re trapped at one of the back corners. Can’t get out without taking more fire,” Hondo says quietly, not wanting to concern the other police officers waiting nearby.

Deacon radios about getting a plan before Luca can answer. Hondo looks toward the house and doesn’t have time to reply to you before the suspect opens fire again.

The shots are concentrated at the back of the house, and Hondo rushes toward the front door and kicks it in while the shots are still ringing through the air. He takes careful turns as he moves toward the back corner. When the suspect comes into view, Hondo fires a beanbag round into his leg, knocking him to the ground.

“You’re under arrest,” Hondo says, kneeling beside the man as he handcuffs him.

“Deac, Street, someone give me an update!” Luca radios, moving toward the gate entrance at the side of the house.

“Suspect in custody,” Hondo alerts. “Deacon!”

✯✯✯✯✯

When the bullets begin ripping through the stucco on the exterior of the house, you, Deacon, and Street fall to the ground and cover your heads. Your adrenaline spikes as the shots continue. When they stop abruptly, you wait a moment before raising your head. The shots were close, so your ears ring as you move to your hands and knees.

“You okay?” Street asks though it’s muffled.

Luca asks something through the radio, but you can’t tell what he’s saying either. You drop your head and notice a growing puddle of blood underneath you. When you try to lift a hand to find the source, everything goes dark as you fall onto the concrete.

✯✯✯✯✯

Street yells your name when you tip forward, drawing Deacon’s attention.

“No, no, no,” Deacon repeats as he carefully turns you onto your back. 

They see the blood pooling under you and have to fight not to panic. Deacon finds the hole in your vest and pulls his hand back up, swallowing as he sees your blood covering his hand. He moves out from under you to put pressure on the wound.

“Take her vest off and then go get the med bag from Betty,” Deacon tells Street.

Your brother freezes, and Deacon repeats himself. Street nods before he carefully removes your bulletproof vest, exhaling sharply at the sigh of the clean hole through the Kevlar. Deacon lifts you gently so Street can pull the vest from behind your back and checks for an exit wound, but as he suspected, there isn’t one.

“Med bag,” Deacon reminds Street.

As Street stands, Deacon realizes he can’t feel your heartbeat below his hands anymore. He moves one hand up to your neck, but as he leaves stains on your skin, he can’t find any sign of a heartbeat.

“Street!” he yells.

At Deacon’s pained yell, Street immediately turns back and rushes to your side.

“Keep pressure on this,” Deacon demands.

Street kneels over your thighs and presses both hands against your side as Deacon moves forward. It isn’t until Deacon begins chest compressions that Street realizes you’re gone.

“Tell… Hondo,” Deacon grunts between compressions.

“Hondo,” Street radios. “We need an R/A.”

“What happened, kid? We can’t get to the backyard from the front or through the house, so we’re coming around the back. You and Deac stopped respo- who’s hit?” Hondo interrupts himself when he realizes that he didn’t get a response because someone couldn’t respond.

Street says your name as he watches Deacon begin mouth to mouth. 

“Hondo, get somebody to pass the med bag over the west fence,” Street adds.

Deacon hears Hondo yelling orders in the front yard, but his complete attention is on you. He tells Street to apply more pressure to stop the bleeding, and he begins another round of chest compressions. When he breathes into your mouth this time, you cough before gasping.

“Street!” Luca yells from the other side of the fence. “I’ve got the med bag.”

Deacon stands and pulls himself onto the top of the fence, taking it from Luca. When Luca sees the blood covering Deacon’s hands and smeared across his chest, he fears the worst.

“Pull this fence down if you have to, Luca. We have to get her out of here right now,” Deacon explains before jumping back down to help you. “Street, we’re packing the wound. She’s losing too much blood.”

“Deac,” you whimper.

“I got you, sweetheart. We’re not leaving you,” he promises.

Deacon nods at Street, and Street trades places with him. You stretch your hand out toward Street, and he takes your hand in his. When you notice that his hand is covered in your blood, you whisper a thank you for all they are doing to save you.

“I can’t breathe,” you pant.

Deacon looks up from your side and watches you take short, fast breaths. He asks Street to check your heart rate, and Street gives him an elevated number.

“Luca!” Deacon yells.

“Yeah, Deac?” Luca replies.

“Where’s the ambulance?”

“A minute out.”

Deacon licks his lips and turns back to packing your wound.

“Elevate her legs, Street. Twelve inches off the ground,” Deacon says. “Sweetheart, this is going to hurt. I’m sorry.”

You release a muffled scream as Deacon wraps a bandage around your torso and pulls it tightly to keep pressure on the wound. Sirens sound as the ambulance approaches, but there is no way to get you out of the backyard safely.

“Deac,” Hondo says, raising himself over the fence. He stops for a moment when he sees you, and Street and Deacon are covered in your blood, which doesn’t help his concern any. “We’re pulling the fence down right now.”

“Thanks, Hondo,” Deacon replies. 

Deacon situates himself between you and the fence and keeps a hand pressed to your pulse point. When your elevated heart rate suddenly plummets, Deacon says your name. You don’t reply, and Deacon apologizes before he puts more pressure on the wound. The resulting adrenaline spike brings you back, and Deacon closes his eyes when you yell in pain. The fence comes down harshly and loudly, but you don’t react to any of it.

“Oh, no,” Luca mumbles when he sees you, Deacon, and Street.

“What’ve we got here?” the first EMT asks as he runs over the destroyed fence.

“GSW to the lower right abdomen and possible hemorrhagic shock.” Deacon lowers his voice to add, “Her heart stopped twice already and she’s still losing blood.”

“Know her blood type?”

Deacon nods and tells him your blood type. Two more EMTs join the first with a gurney, and Deacon has to pull Street away so they can move you onto it.

“Go with her,” Hondo says. “We’ll be by later.”

Deacon and Street climb into the ambulance and sit beside you. The EMTs work quickly, leaving Deacon’s makeshift tourniquet in place.

“Heart rate and BP are plummeting,” one of the EMTs alerts.

Deacon and Street can only watch, helpless, as the EMTs prepare the equipment to shock your heart back into a normal rhythm. 

“Is she going to make it?” Street whispers.

“I- she’s a fighter, but I really don’t know, Street,” Deacon answers honestly.

✯✯✯✯✯

Hondo and Luca are waiting impatiently at S.W.A.T. HQ when Deacon finally calls.

“Deac, tell me you have good news,” Hondo answers.

“She- she’s in emergency surgery and they had some trouble finding all of the bullet fragments. Doc said she should be out in about twenty minutes, though, and her heart rate has been stable,” Deacon replies.

“Has been stable?” Luca repeats. “Was it not before?”

“Her heart stopped once in the backyard, and nearly stopped twice more while I was with her. Apparently there were a few more close calls when they first started the surgery.”

“Do they know if she’ll recover?” Hondo asks.

“They don’t know anything for sure. Just, uh, if you want to come down now, you can.”

“We’ll be there, Deac,” Luca replies. “Need anything?”

“No. Thanks, though, for everything.”

✯✯✯✯✯

As Deacon ends the call with Hondo, he gets another call from Hicks.

“Commander,” Deacon greets, hoping he won’t have to leave you.

“Deacon, I just wanted to tell you that I’ve taken 20-David off call, so you’re all free to stay with her unless there’s some kind of emergency,” Hicks says.

“I appreciate that, sir.”

“Just make sure she’s alright, Deac.”

A few minutes later, Hondo and Luca rush into the waiting room. Street and Deacon have changed out of the blood-soaked clothes from earlier and removed your blood from their skin, but they can still feel it.

“Deac,” Hondo sighs as he pulls him into a quick hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“Tell me what you need,” Luca offers.

“I already called our sitter, and she’s going to stay the night,” Deacon replies. “I don’t know what else I need to do.”

“You need to be here for her,” Hondo answers.

Luca moves to Street’s side to check on him as Deacon and Hondo sit down. Deacon recounts what happened, how one of the windows was open before the shots came through the wall.

Nearly an hour later, the doctor finally returns and says your name. Every waiting member of 20-David stands, eager to hear how you are.

“How is she?” Deacon asks.

“She is stable and in a room. She owes her life to your team, gentlemen. The first aid you performed and the speed with which you got her here is the only reason she’s still alive,” the doctor answers. “I can only let family come back at the moment, but I’ll ensure she knows you’re all here for her.”

Deacon and Street follow him into your room, and they’re both surprised to see you are conscious. You smile at them when they enter, and they rush to either side of your bed to hug you.

“The bullet damaged an artery in her torso, which we’ve repaired, and there was no other internal damage,” the doctor adds. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Where are the kids?” you ask Deacon. “The sitter-“

“Is staying the night. I called a while ago and told her what happened, and she was happy to stay with them,” Deacon assures you.

“And I can go stay with them after, for as long as you need,” Street offers.

You can tell that they’re upset, but you are too. Lying in your own blood like that and not knowing if you’d get to see your babies again was terrifying, yet there are only two things you want to do: hug your kids and go back to work.

“How long do you think I’ll be benched?” you ask.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Street responds as he rolls his eyes. “I’m considering quitting and you’re ready to go back?”

“Are you really?”

“I don’t know,” he admits while taking your offered hand. “That was terrifying, and I don’t want to think about losing anyone else.”

“Jim, you saved my life. And I will never leave you, okay?”

Street nods, and you squeeze his hand to remind him that you’re still beside him.

“Can I get some comfort now? Because I was covered in your blood earlier and just want a hug,” Deacon interjects.

You turn toward him and raise your other arm. Deacon hugs you, mindful of your side, and sighs against your neck.

“I love you,” Deacon whispers.

“I love you,” you reply. “And thanks for saving my life.”

“I didn’t-“

“I remember more than you think,” you argue with a smile. “Hey, is everyone here?”

“We’re family and you want Hondo and Luca?” Street asks obnoxiously.

You nod, and Street sighs as he pulls his hand away to get them for you.

“I need to hug our kids as soon as possible,” you tell Deacon.

Deacon smiles as he moves closer to you. “Soon,” he promises.

“Now that just ain’t fair,” Hondo says as he walks inside. “You still look like that after everything you’ve been through?”

“Don’t flirt with my wife, Hondo,” Deacon replies jokingly.

“I don’t know, I kind of like the attention,” you add. “Maybe we should do this more often.”

“Don’t ever say that again,” Luca demands as he lays a kind hand on your shoulder. “Glad you’re feeling good enough to make fun of us and our worry though.”

“Speaking of worry,” Hondo begins. “Street tells us you want to come back to work?”

You nod, and Hondo continues, “Then we will be with you through it all. Recovery, training, we got your back.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Seriously. I know I’ve been joking, mostly to distract myself, but I wouldn’t even be here without all of you, and I can’t thank you enough for that. My- our kids wouldn’t have me anymore, and there’s nothing I can say to make you understand what all of you mean to me and how much I appreciate what you did for me today – and do for me every day.”

“Did your family grow while I was away?” the doctor asks as he returns.

“No, it’s always been this big,” you reply. “Ask them, they love me.”

The guys nod, and the doctor shakes his head before telling you and your visitors you should be healthy again in just a few weeks. Then he says that visiting hours are over and politely asks everyone to leave.

“I’m her husband,” Deacon offers.

“Oh, my apologies. You’re free to stay for the night,” the doctor replies.

“I’m her brother,” Street adds.

“Would you like me to gather cots for everyone, ma’am?”

“We’re heading out,” Hondo says with a chuckle. “We’ll be back by in the morning. Have a good night and call if you need anything.”

“Seriously,” Luca adds. “I live closer than Hondo, so call me first, though.”

Hondo and Luca argue as they leave, and you smile. The doctor talks for a while, but you focus on Deacon’s hand in yours. He cleaned his ring at some point because it is no longer covered in your blood. Your wedding ring is at home, but the silicone ring you wear at work was taken off when you got to the hospital. As you slide Deacon’s wedding ring off, he glances at you but continues listening to the doctor. With Deacon’s ring on your finger, you feel more complete, even if you are in pain and miss your kids.

“I’m going to go find some food,” Street says after the doctor leaves. “You want anything?”

You smile, and Street sighs as he agrees to find your favorite food.

“You’re the best brother ever!” you call after him. “I love you!”

“Luckily for you I love you too,” he replies with a wide smile.

When it’s only you and Deacon, you slide over and pat the bed, asking him to join you. He smiles at the sight of his ring on your finger as he sits, letting you lean against his side.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” you whisper. “But I’m glad you were with me.”

“I am too,” Deacon replies. “But when you’re released, we’re going home and sitting with all of the kids for as long as possible.”

“That sounds perfect. I love you, Deacon, and you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“I love you,” Deacon replies, kissing your cheek.

Street returns faster than expected, and when he pushes the door open and says, “I can’t believe I said your first day back was going to be boring,” you can’t help but laugh, even though it hurts your side.

You are alive because of your family, both your real family and your work family, though those lines blur more each day. There is nothing you wouldn’t do for all of them, and you know the opposite is true; they will be with you through everything, just as they promised. While you sit between your husband and brother, you know that you owe more than your heartbeat to your family.

#hanna writes✯ #david deacon kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #david deacon kay #deacon kay #swat cbs #requests #fem!reader #tw: injury

[hopepetal]

A little fanfic I wrote for the aftermath of MCC 33, because both Pearl and Impulse raided Scar. And also Boatem <3

--

Pearl sat on the balloon, legs hanging off the side as she looked out over the MCC server. Her wings fluttered lightly against her back– it was nice to be able to use them again after so long of having them hidden. 

She had gotten close! Really, really close! Even though she was rusty still, she had been able to get almost in the top twenty! And her team had gotten third overall. Pretty cool, in her opinion. She was still riding that high from meltdown, though. Maybe she was a good leader for that, after all.

From the distance, she heard a familiar voice. “Peaaaaaaarl! Pearl Pearl Pearl Pearl Pearl Pearl–!” Scar, equipped with elytra, slammed head first into the spot right beside her with a squawk. “Oh, ouch! Goodness, the lag on this server is awful!” he complained, pushing himself up and plopping down beside her. “So! How was MCC, how are you feeling?” he prompted, and Pearl let out a soft chuckle.

“I’m feeling pretty good,” she admitted, “I did pretty well. A little disappointing at the end, but…” She shrugged. “Y’know, what can ya do? We did our best, and that’s what matters.”

Scar nodded. “And that’s what matters, indeed!” he exclaimed. “You know, I was secretly rooting for you guys. Above my own team, even! I was really hoping you’d get that win.”

Pearl laughed, shaking her head. “Scar! That’s so sweet of you, mate. I appreciate it.” She let the silence between them sit for a moment. “How was Etho?”

“He was good, he was good! I’m hopin’ he’ll come back, y’know, maybe we’ll all be on the same team then.” Scar kicked his legs back and forth, leaning forward. “I actually did so much better than I thought I would! I got in a top ten! A top ten, Pearl!”

Pearl beamed, clapping her hands together. “That’s awesome, Scar!” she praised, “I knew you could do it. What was it in?”

“Meltdown! Which, if I recall correctly, you guys did amayzingly in too!”

Pearl grinned. “Oh, you bet. I’ll be riding that high for ages. I make a pretty good leader, it turns out!”

The two were interrupted by yet another familiar face flying up to their little spot– Impulse, seemingly also struggling with his elytra, judging by how rough the landing had been. “It’s just the generic version,” he complained to the two as soon as he’d steadied himself, “I’m too used to the personalized elytra we get on hermitcraft.” He sat himself down on Pearl’s other side. 

“Honestly, sounds like you should just grow wings,” Pearl teased, giving her own a small flutter. “You did amazing, mate. What team were you on, again?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. 

Impulse returned the smile she gave him. “Aqua Axolotls! I was with Sneeg, Illumina, and Joel.”

“I’m not even gonna try to say that team name,” Scar muttered, earning soft laughter from the other two.

“That sounds like a fun team, though,” Pearl commented. “How was it?”

Impulse nodded. “It was pretty fun! Joel yelled a lot, of course. He was very excited whenever he saw Etho, though.”

“I can imagine!” Scar piped up. “Kinda sad that Grian couldn’t make it this time. We all know how much that man loves Etho.”

Pearl shrugged. “Poor guy was just busy, I guess. You can imagine his horror when he realized Etho was in this MCC and he hadn’t signed up.”

“That’s why you’re here, right? To give him all the insider info?” Impulse asked, and Pearl laughed.

“Yeah, he wishes. I’m not telling him a thing,” she snickered, and Scar gasped dramatically.

“The cleaning lady has an evil heart!” he cried, “she abandons her brother in his time of need…!” 

“Ah, he’ll get over it!” 

The three sat in silence for a while after that, their shared company enough to fill the silence. Pearl sighed softly, leaning back and tilting her head toward the sky. “Well, it’s high time we probably head back to hermitcraft. You fellas wanna come with?”

Scar jumped up, holding out a hand to her. “Why of course!” he exclaimed, helping pull her up when she took his hand. “Let’s go back and surprise Mumbo with the good news of my top ten!”

“I’m sure he’ll be dying to hear about it,” Impulse chuckled. “And Grian, of course. We can have a little boatem meeting, just like the old days!”

“Even though boatem got crushed by the moon,” Pearl reminded them.

Scar tutted softly, shaking his head. “Ahh, Pearl, that’s where you’re wrong! Boatem is a state of mind, not just a pole! So long as we keep boatem in our hearts, it will stay alive.”

“You’re a goofball,” Pearl pointed out with a laugh. 

“He’s our goofball,” Impulse corrected. “Right. Whoever gets back onto hermitcraft and to Mumbo first wins. See ya!” And with that, he disconnected.

Pearl yelped. “Oh, that’s not fair, my ping–!” She watched Scar disconnect, and decided it would be best to quickly follow suit.

impulseSV left the game GoodTimeWithScar left the game PearlescentMoon left the game

#my writing #mcc fanfic #hermitcraft fanfic #boatem crew #pearlescentmoon #impulsesv #goodtimeswithscar

[lixzey]

Letters

Info: age gap, reader has nightmares

The Second Letter.

Timothée woke up with a terrible hangover. The party was great, and he had an amazing time with his friends. He sat up and walked to the bathroom of his hotel room. He stared at himself in the mirror; he was still in the clothes he had on last night. Timothée hopped into the shower, feeling the cold water against his skin, sobering him up.

After a relaxing shower, he remembered the letters. The basket he shoved under the bed, he knelt down, grabbing the basket from under the bed. He untied the stack—eighteen letters—all eighteen letters still there.

He sat on the bed and opened the second letter, dated June 18, 2023.

Dear Timothée, 

Every night before I go to sleep, I whisper good night to you. I have a framed photo of you on my bedside table. I know, it's weird and creepy. I don't know why, but I've done it for so long that I can't even remember when I started it.

Is it weird for a grown woman to have a stuffed animal to be able to sleep at night? Yeah, it's weird. My stuffed bunny keeps my nightmares at bay every night. Julie told me that one day, all of my fears would go away and my nightmares would end. And I'd be able to look back at my past without getting hurt. But everything's getting worse. Every fucking night.

Maybe you're wondering, "Why in the world is this girl telling me this?" Well, I don't know, really. Maybe it's because you'd listen? Who am I kidding? I don't even know if you'd even get my letters. I've locked up those memories for so long, and it hurts to think about them, let alone talk about them. I'm not going to tell you everything, but a little something about me can't hurt, right? It's better to write it all down rather than talk about it.

I remember when I was a little girl, my parents would take me down to the park near where we lived. My dad would push me on the swings, while my mom would set up a little picnic for us. Life was happy. Until that fateful day when I was ten. Let's just say that my life wasn't the same as it once was. I thought my life was perfect, but boy, was I wrong.

I've tried everything to get the nightmares to stop, yet nothing ever works. Not once in the past eleven years have I had a good night's sleep. Honestly? I'm terrified of falling asleep; the nightmares keep getting more vivid. My room mate, Ava, gave me a crystal bracelet—to protect me and keep the bad auras away. She's the only one other than Julie, my therapist, who knows that I get nightmares. Since Ava's room is right next to mine, she hears me scream every fucking night.

Oh god, that sounded morbid. I should stop. Well, it's not like you'd ever get any of my letters. So I'll carry on writing, pouring out everything in these letters.

I'm going to try to get some sleep; it's literally half past three. I have exams in the morning. I'll probably fail again anyway, since I'm not exactly the smartest. Wish me luck?

All my love,

Y/n. 

Timothée was slowly understanding Y/N. She's seven years younger than him. He checked the envelopes, searching for an address so he could reply to her after he'd finished all of her letters. But he couldn't find anything—not even in the basket.

“How on earth did these letters get here? I'm in a fucking hotel that only my family knew." Timothée muttered. Questions filled his mind. He put the letter back in the envelope. He picked up the next letter, hoping for answers.

#timothée chalamet #timmy #timmy chalamet #timothee chalamet #timothee #lil timmy tim #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chalamalabingbong #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothée x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée fanfic #timothée x you #timothee x you #timothee x y/n #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee fanfic #timmy tim #timothee chalamet x you

[nat-20s]

a fic featuring Fourteen and Donna being so so eepy (also on a03)

During one of The Doctor’s usual puttering about at 3 am in the Tardis, they immediately notice two things about a certain door. The first is that in the latest rearrangement of the floor plan, this door has gone from the hidden depths of what we’ll call it “the basement”, to a fairly central area of the top level. Second, and perhaps more alarmingly, this door that has been locked for millennia is now cracked ajar.

He doesn’t, however, feel any immediate panic. Instead, a little smile he can’t quite hold back appears on his face. Soft in their old age, really. Should at the very least check that what he thinks is behind the door is there, and not some sort of intruder. Technically, while the bio-metric locks that had been put in place were some of the finest in the universe, he had enough experience to know that no locks were truly unpickable.

As gingerly as possible, The Doctor opens the door enough to peek their head inside; it’s immediately revealed that he truly needn’t have worried about a break in. Donna Noble, currently prone on the bed, had been the one to open her room, just as he had guessed.

He should have worried about how now, apparently, Donna was an extremely light sleeper. He had been almost certain that he hadn’t made a noise, but not even a full second later, she rolls over to face the door and stirs awake. Blinking away some of the sleep, she sees him and gives him a half-sheepish, half-tired smile. Before he can say something along the lines of “don’t mind me, get some rest”, she pats the space next to her and gives him a “c’mere” nod of the head.

The Doctor goes willingly, and even manages to not hold their breath stepping through the former mausoleum of their best friend’s memory. He settles next to her, face to face in a classic “talking too late at night during a sleepover” pose. Because of who they are, he can’t help but let the first thing he says be, “I seem to remember someone lecturing me about sleeping in the Tardis when there’s a perfectly good bed in a perfectly good house, spaceman.”

Donna must be half-awake, because instead of arguing, she gives a one shoulder shrug and scrunches up her nose in amusement. “You caught me.”

“I thought everyone but Granddad was at the London house tonight?”

“Oh, they are. Work ran late and here was closer, so I sent off a text letting them know I was crashing here instead.”

“In the Tardis?”

“Well. No. That’s my little secret. Or, I suppose, our little secret now.”

The Doctor raises an eyebrow at her, asking for more info, to which she replies with a sigh. “You know, I wasn’t a super fussy baby-”

“-a bit shocking to hear, considering-”

“Oi! As I was saying, I wasn’t colicky or anything like that, but if Mum just could not get me to settle down, she would pop me in a car seat and drive around the neighborhood. Said I was out like a light within minutes.”

He has no idea where this story is going. He finds he doesn’t mind. It’s silly and sappy of him (what isn’t, these days?), but he finds it deeply charming when Donna goes on a little ramble. Especially when sleepiness is slowing her words and she keeps blinking for more and more seconds. They think they’ll get maybe 5 more minutes to chat before she’s fully gone again, and they’re going to savor it. She continues, “She stopped doing that when I old enough to toddle into their room and fall asleep between them. God, one morning they had gotten up early and I apparently screamed my little head off thinking they had left me forever.”

She says that last statement with a roll of her eyes, passing it off as one of those things kids do, but The Doctor’s heart lets out a pang. He wishes he could’ve told little Donna that it was okay, that her parents are there and they love her so so much. He wishes he could tell all Donnas that she won’t be left behind, not in the end. (They also wish they could tell themselves that they don’t get left behind, eventually.)

Personal timelines, however, are messy, and best left alone. Instead, he stays now, and he listens, and he takes Donna’s hand in his own. “Honestly, I don’t think my sleeping habits have changed that much. I still hate sleeping alone. I still hate sleeping motionless. Stick me on a boat with someone to cuddle up to and I’ll have the best rest of my life.”

She looks around the room briefly, then presses her forehead to the Doctor’s and continues, “You know, kind of like the nights I spent here. The Tardis, this room...it was only my home for a year. But it was also the most home I had been for a long, long time. And the house is lovely, so lovely, still can’t believe you bought us a house, but right now it’s too quiet and I missed it here. The various whirs and clicks and hums the Tardis makes? Better than any white noise machine on the market.”

The Doctor grins at her, feeling a bit smug and a lot soppy. “Now you know how I feel.”

She gives a half hearted poke at his chest, which is rather undercut by the yawn she lets out. “Still, ‘spect you to stay with us the majority of the nights.”

“Hey, I’m with you right now, aren’t I?”

She closes her eyes, giving a grin and a hushed, “Yeah, you are,” before slipping straight back to dream land. He technically could slip away now, but he’s already under the covers, are the steady breathing of his best friend is having a rather lulling effect. Remembering that he’s now allowed to rest, whenever he wants, he snuggles in closer, pulls the blankets tighter around them, and does just that.

#*cracks knuckles* #okay tag time #my fic #doctor who #fourteenth doctor #tennant doctor #donna noble #what if we were best friends and we coslept in your old room #what then

[feyhunter78]

Pink Pastels Pt 31

Description: Miguel and Gabi have a little discussion, Miguel gathers info on your mother.

Pt 32 here!!!

"Papá?” Gabi’s voice is soft, hesitant, her face illuminated by the warm glow of the nightlight in the hall.

Miguel looks up from his computer, shoulders heavy, eyes burning from the harsh blue light of the three strategically placed screens.

Gabi is lingering in the doorway, hand on the doorknob, Oso under her other arm.

“Yes, mija?” He pushes back from his desk, chair wheels rolling smoothly over the rug as he turns his body towards her, his free hand minimizing his open tabs.

She shuffles in, mindful of staying away from any computer equipment, until she curls up in his lap, resting her head on his chest. “Why was Abuela being mean to Mamá?”

Miguel wraps his arms around her, silently cursing himself for not thinking about how she might’ve inherited his enhanced senses. “What do you mean?”

“She wouldn’t let Mamá go shopping with us, and then she said she was going to plan my quince, but I want you and Mamá to do that.” Gabi says, dropping her chin atop Oso’s fuzzy head.

“Your abuela is just having a hard time accepting Ms. y/n over your mother.” He says carefully.

“Why?”

Miguel says nothing for a moment, gathering his thoughts before he speaks. “Because she loved your mother very much, and she doesn’t like the idea of losing people.”

“Like Tio Gabriel?” Gabi asks quietly.

A wave of grief washes over him. He misses his brother desperately, even when they were at odds with each other they were still brothers. This universe his brother died long before Gabi was born, and his mother could never quite get over it. She clung to anyone new who came into his life, attempting to force them to fill the hole Gabriel left behind. Ava seemed to fit the mold for his mother, well enough that she was willing to put him and his family in peril for the chance to reconnect with her.

He was aware his mother loved his brother more; Gabriel was a shining, golden thing. The example of the perfect son, the one who didn’t come from an affair, who looked enough like the man Miguel called father for most of his life that no one questioned him. Miguel didn’t hate his brother, he never could, but he resented him for leaving him alone with their mother, for caving time and time again in every universe. He loved him deeply, protected him, counseled him, cried with him, cried for him at his funeral, he carried a part of Gabriel with him everywhere he went. They were of the same blood, he would never truly lose that part of his brother, and that was enough for him.

“Yes, like Tio Gabriel.” His voice falters for a moment, and he clears his throat. “But that doesn’t mean it’s okay for her to be mean to your mamá.”

“Is Mamá okay? I thought I heard her yelling while Uncle Brett was taking me back to the sheep.”

Miguel chuckles. “Your mamá was just very passionately defending us, that’s all. She’s okay.”

She nods and snuggles closer to him. “I don’t want to go shopping with Abuela if Mamá can’t come.”

“You don’t have to go shopping with your abuela for any reason if you don’t want to.” He reassures her.

“Okay…” Gabi says, stroking Oso’s ears.

“Is there something else bothering you?”

Gabi sticks out her bottom lip in a puppy dog pout. “I wish Nanna Nancy was my only grandma. She really likes Mamá. Why can’t Nana Nancy, Auntie Mon and Uncle Brett be our only family? Everyone else is mean.”

If Monica were here, she’d been over the moon at Gabi’s words.

He chuckles. “The only other family that’s here is your abuela.”

“And mom.”

“You don’t have to worry about her, she’s not going to bother us anymore.”

“Okay good.” Gabi huffs. “Now, if Abuela would stop being mean, everything would be perfect.”

He loves how simple some solutions seem to her, how if just one person would change, everything would fall into place. He wishes that were true.

“If only she would stop being so mean.” He echoes.

They stay up for a while longer talking, until sleep finally overtakes her, and he carries her back to her bed, gently tucking her in before slipping back into his office and locking the door behind him.

“Lyla?” He calls out, bringing all his tabs back up.

She flits into existence, heart-shaped sunglasses pushed up on her head. “It’s like two AM, why are you even awake? Don’t you have a fiancée to join in bed?” She teases, stretching her arms above her head with a yawn.

“She’s asleep. Now find me everything you can on Tiffany Robins.”

“Thinking about your next victim?” Lyla drawls, scrolling through her superhighway of information.

“Thinking about ensuring my fiancée is happy.” He replies, skimming the information as she flicks it onto his computers.

“Okay Ms. Tiffany Robins, lives in Nueva York, divorced, two children, y/n, and Leon, never been remarried, a lot of custody issues, a restraining order requested by Mrs. Rosaline Y/L/N, high level official at Serenity and Wellness, a company that sells wellness products, and self-help programs. It’s pretty successful, but they definitely don’t believe what they’re selling.”

“Can you get me her phone records?”

She gives him a pointed look.

“Please?”

“Already done.” She says, a Cheshire Cat grin tugging at her lips.

Tiffany: Y/N let’s get together soon; I want to make up for all the pain I’ve caused you.

Y/N: You said that last time.

Tiffany: Don’t be so stubborn, I’ve been seeing someone, and it’s really been helping.

Y/N: I don’t know, I’m really busy with work.

Tiffany: You can’t make time for your mother? I gave you life, and this is the thanks I get?

Y/N: Ok, ok, I’ll think about it.

Tiffany: I’ll be on your side of town in a few weeks, I’ll let you know when I’m there, we can meet then.

Y/N: I said I’d think about it.

Tiffany: I’ll make sure it’s not during school hours don’t worry, now I’ve got to go, I have a meeting to get to.

Miguel massages his temples. Obviously, your mother still believes she’s owed access to you, that she’s still in control of you.

There’s a call logged, from this morning, while he and Gabi were out getting donuts.

“Y/N I need to push back our meeting, I have to meet with a potential client that day, can you do a Wednesday instead?” Your mother’s voice is smooth, pleasant, and controlled.

“I can’t, I work on weekdays, I’m a teacher, remember?”

“Just put on a movie for them or something, I doubt it’ll be much different from your normal teaching.”

Miguel hears your voice tighten, can feel your hackles rising through the audio.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh my—saints above y/n, you’re so sensitive. I just mean that…well we both know how you struggled in school, and I mean they’re still so young, I doubt they’re really learning anything.”

“The only thing I struggled with was math, but I doubt you’d even know that considering you weren’t allowed in my life while I was in school.”

“That wasn’t my fault, it was your father and his whore, they stole you and your brother from me.” Tiffany complains, a hint of hysteria in her voice.

He can only imagine the rage flowing through you at Tiffany’s words.

“She’s not a whore.” You snap.

“You just can’t see it; you’re blinded by it all. But don’t worry, I know one day you’ll wake up and see that she’s not your real mother, and she’ll never be.”

His stomach drops.

“You’re not her mother, and you never will be.”

His mother had unknowingly repeated the words said to you about your own mother.

“You’re such a bitch.” You hiss, venom dripping from your every word.

“Me? You’re just a spoiled brat who abandoned her mother.”

“Aband—you know what? I’m not doing this with you, not today, not now. Goodbye, Tiffany.”

The call ends and Miguel continues to scroll through your mother’s information, a plan formulating in his mind.

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