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auteurdelabre · 5 months

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SOMETHING TO FIGHT FOR (series) Joelxf!reader Part 1

Word Count: 5.3K

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions) Tommy x Maria, Bill x Frank

Warnings: This is saccharine slice of life with smut and a Soft!Joel. You have been warned. There is swearing, there is smut, but when it gets to those chapters you will have plenty of warning. (That is if there is interest in my story!)

A/N: This is part of a sweeter series (lots of angst, pining and smut ahead) Also despite Sarah's young age Joel is early 40's in this because slightly grey babygirl DILF Joel is the best Joel.

"Please don't make me do this."

You shoot Maria a dark look as she drags you to her wardrobe, ignoring your plea.

"C'mon, it'll be fun! Plus I need your help picking out what to wear."

She opens the gleaming wood doors with a flourish and indicates with her head for you to look. You give her a once over with her luminous dark skin, hair in tight braids and roll your eyes.

Like it matters what she wears.

Maria is stunning. Arresting. Whatever other adjectives you need to describe someone who is not only beautiful but kind, brave, opinionated, strong... and occasionally manipulative.

How else can you explain why an hour later you're seated in her car on the way to the cheapest Italian restaurant in town for a double date?

"Tommy is so cute," Maria giggles, actually giggles. "I bet his brother is too."

"Mhmmm." You stare out the window with a frown, watching the rainstorm outside. The dress you're wearing feels itchy and you wish you were back at home with a book.

But you've agreed to this: a blind date with Tommy's brother.

You haven't been on a date since Paul. Paul with the light eyes and delicate fingers. Paul who promised to love you forever and then taken off to Manhattan, leaving you with rent you couldn't cover by yourself and a heartbreak so devastating it took Maria living with you for a full two weeks to get back to the land of the living.

Six months later her basement suite is where you currently call home, a place you often find yourself laying in bed at night wondering what the fuck had happened to your life plans. Maria had always been your most successful friend, running her own business, owning this huge house all on her own. She plans on flipping it once the renovations are done.

And when she'd known you couldn't pay your rent alone she hadn't even asked you how she could help. You'd woken up from a long depression nap amidst the breakup one morning to find your belongings packed and labeled and Maria telling you that you were moving in with her.

Moving into her basement wasn't exactly how you'd imagined your life at this age. But then again you didn't expect to be single and working at your same low paying job then either. She won't accept rent money either.

She's a fucking saint.

So of course you had to say yes to this favor. Of course you had to pull on your uncomfortable dress and look your best because she’s your closest friend and because she never asks you for anything.

Maria and Tommy met during renovations at Maria's place. She told you it was an instant connection, a jolt that went through her the minute he'd come through the door to give an estimate. Tommy and Maria's relationship is new, only a few weeks. But you've never seen your friend like this, all bright and cheery and giggly. She's normally more subdued, more of a quiet observer.

Love does strange things to people you suppose.

You know it did to you not so long ago. But yours didn't have the happy ending you're sure your friends’ will.

The truth is despite your own heartbreak you are delighted for Maria. Genuine joy flows from you when she tells you about Tommy and his dark eyes and his sweet shy way of talking.

Maria backs the car into the spot, humming nervously under her breath. You scan the large windows of the restaurant hoping to catch a glimpse of Tommy. You've seen a few photos on Val's phone, but those can be deceiving.

You cell rings shrilly in your purse and you retrieve it just as Maria puts the car into park.

"Hey, just gimme a sec, I'm just getting dinner with Maria," you say as you answer the phone, glancing over at your friend. "Sorry it's my mom calling. I just need a minute if that's okay?"

"Of course," Maria says nodding solemnly. I'll meet you inside."

She hands you the car keys before running a nervous hand through her braids and heading for the restaurant. You watch her leave, holding in a smirk at her obvious nerves.

"Hi bug," your mom's throaty voice sounds out through the earpiece when you put it back to your ear. "Thought you'd want an update."

"I did yeah, thanks for calling. Did they say anything?"

Anything your mother was going to say is immediately washed out by the most obnoxious sound of "Back in Black" playing at high volume.

"The fuck - "

Your eyes go to the silver and blue truck that's pulled up next to yours in the crowded parking lot.

A man with a short beard and tousled brown locks sits behind the wheel putting the vehicle into park. The music is still blasting though, and it's no wonder you can hear him; his window is half down.

Your mom is still saying something but you can't hear her. You try plugging the ear facing the driver and pressing the phone more harshly against your temple but it's no good.

Irritation is going like lightning through your body at the actions of the asshole next to you. Another quick glance tells you he's just sitting there, his one arm slung over the wheel as he stares into space.

"Mom just a sec," you interrupt before rolling down your window and calling out to him.

"Hey!"

The man in the truck doesn't turn his head in your direction until you call out another sharp 'hey'. As he glances at you his brows lift in question.

"Turn down the fucking music! This isn't a concert."

Thinking back, you could have gone about that in a much kinder way.

You could have politely explained you were on an important call. You could have asked him nicely to turn it down. But you're so anxious about the importance of this phone call, that your manners leave you.

The man is looking at you as if he can't believe your vitriol. His dark eyes are soulful as he stares at you, unblinking. The music is still pumping in his truck, perfectly matching the tempo of your rapidly rising pulse.

"Are you deaf or just an asshole?" you shout, your hand still holding the phone to your chest, praying your mom can't hear you verbally lambasting the man next to you.

The man looks like he wants to say something back at you. A tic in his jaw flexing. He parts his mouth before clamping it shut and glaring openly at you. He jerks the key out of the ignition, the music immediately silencing.

"... in the hospital," your mother is saying.

Immediately your attention is back on her and what she's saying. You only notice the man has exited the truck when you hear the slam of its door and the heavy sound of his footsteps diminishing towards the restaurant. You're too fixated on what your mom is saying, or rather, isn't saying.

"Do they know if . . . " you trail off, not sure if you want to know the answer.

"Not yet."

The two of you lapse into a gentle silence that your mother is first to break. "Did you say you were having dinner with Maria?"

"Uh yeah," you say, still processing the information. "Blind date kinda thing."

"Good for you," she says warmly. "Go on then, bug. I don't want to keep you. Give her my love."

"I don't really want to go inside,” you admit. “Rather just stay in the car all night.”

"Enough of that," your mother chides gently. "I didn't raise a coward. Now go on. We'll chat later, I love you."

You respond similarly and place the phone back into your purse. You take a few steadying breaths, glancing at yourself in her rear view mirror and then pulling yourself from the car.

/////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// ///////

The restaurant is dimly lit with gentle cliché Italian music playing in the background. You and Maria have been coming here since college; it's a familiar haunt so it's no wonder that she set the date here. It's some of the worst Italian food in town but also the cheapest.

You come to the table to see just the two of them sitting across from one another and you feel your heart leap and sinks all at once. Did the brother not show up? Are you off the hook?

Or worse, did he see you and leave?

Maria smiles at you, her hand still in Tommy's. She nods her head at the chair beside her. "Come sit."

You do, looking nervously over at Tommy and introducing yourself. Tommy reminds you so much of a puppy dog in the best possible way; all smiles and eager energy as he greets you. He's lithe with broad shoulders he covers in a jean jacket over a white t-shirt. His face is clean shaven and his dark hair fans into his equally dark eyes. He's sweet looking, boyish and nervous.

"My brother's just making a phone call," he explains when he notices you glance at the empty seat beside him. "He'll be right back."

Relief mingled with trepidation goes through you. The waitress comes over with everyone's drinks, leaving a beer in the empty space on the table for Tommy's brother and a berry-colored glass of something in front of you.

"I got you the sangria," Maria shrugs.

"Sounds good, thanks."

You take a sip, feeling nervous as the flavor coats your tongue. The restaurant is busy tonight, not really a shock for a Friday night. You glance around, your eyes darting to Maria and Tommy before you adopt an authoritative tone.

"So Tommy, what are your intentions with Maria?"

Tommy's eyes blow wide in surprise, blinking and stammering.

“I, I uh –“

"You're so mean," Maria says as you both burst into giggles. "You're fine, honey. She's joking."

At Tommy's stricken expression, Maria pats his hand affectionately. Relief instantly floods his face.

"Couldn't resist," you say, shooting a glance at a still recovering Tommy. "If it helps, she's crazy about you,"

Tommy's face breaks into a wide grin that he shoots at Maria. "Is that so?"

Maria looks flustered, opening up her menu and pretending she doesn't hear him.

"Let's order I'm starved."

You nod, looking down at your menu with a smile. You know that tonight is going to be awkward, as any blind date with another couple would be. But you like seeing Maria smiling, you like hearing her laugh as Tommy murmurs something to her about the garlic bread. Maria has been through a lot, she deserves this. You resolve to do whatever you can to make this night go well.

"Ah, there he is," Tommy says shooting a smile at someone behind you. "This is my brother, Joel."

You look up from the menu at the figure who slides into the chair opposite you. You're ready to be as charming as needed to get through this dinner but the smile immediately dies on your face.

It's the man from the truck.

He's broad shouldered, wearing a dark green button down rolled at the sleeves. It's tight across the arms, emphasizing the width of his chest. He and his brother don't look much alike to you aside from the coloring. Joel's face is pleasant if not serious-looking with big, sad eyes. He's attractive enough, a bit older than you and seems rugged with his beard and tousled locks, threaded with bits of grey.

He seems to be doing the same mental gymnastics because he goes from looking confused to angry within a microsecond of seeing you.

So much for a pleasant evening.

Normally you would have wanted to know more about him than the vague description you'd received from Maria on the ride over, but right now you want the earth to swallow you whole. You just screamed at this guy, called him an asshole in the parking lot less than ten minutes ago. Now you have to sit here and pretend to be polite.

His eyes move swiftly to Maria who looks at him nervously.

“The infamous girlfriend,” Joel says with a small smile. “Pleased to meet you.”

“The even more infamous brother,” Maria says warmly shaking his proffered hand.

“That’d be me,” Joel says with a soft chuckle. You wonder if perhaps you overestimated how rude you’d been. Joel seems perfectly nice right now, smiling at Maria and Tommy and apologizing for taking so long on the phone. Maria introduces you to him in a tone that sounds almost proud.

The smile that Joel has been wearing immediately slides from his face and you clear your throat nervously, forcing a smile onto your face.

"Uh, hi. Nice to meet you."

He gives you a sharp nod by way of reply.He doesn't look at you for long. More a cursory glance at your face before he picks up his beer and takes a swig before turning to ask Tommy something about the job site.

Great.

You crane your neck, leaning back in your chair hoping to see your waitress in the rapidly filling restaurant. You want this evening to speed up and be over. Maybe you can order an appetizer and dash out. But you can see your waitress deep in conversation with another table of eight and know you'll be waiting a bit. You hold in a sigh as you look back at Joel Miller.

He's started peeling the label from his beer in tiny scratches. It's obvious to you that he's just as disappointed as you are that you're his date for the evening. Even if you two hadn't experienced the altercation outside you doubt he would have been your type: too serious, too hard.

Paul had been the opposite: open and funny and immediately putting you at ease.

Stop thinking about him.

You take another sip of your drink, deciding that while Joel is a shit blind date he's actually perfect for practicing on for any future dates. Ones that you may have with men who are a helluva lot more pleasant than he is.

Maria and Tommy are looking at their menus, obviously trying not to watch the two of you interact. But you can see Maria's eyes darting to you out the corner. You know that she’s silently willing you to make an effort with Joel.

"So Maria says you guys work for a construction company?" You look from Joel to Tommy.

"We own a construction company," Joel corrects, his dark eyes still glued to the label of the beer bottle he's picking at with a short fingernail.

Off to a great start.

Tommy joins in, noting his brothers' reluctance to keep the conversation going.

"Joel takes care of the carpentry and the invoicing. I'm more drywall and marketing," Tommy smiles wide and friendly at you. "We have a few other guys on the team that do the rest."

You already like Tommy. He's sweet and soft and judging by the way he's still holding Maria's hand across the table, he's very interested in her.

"Must be nice to be your own bosses," you offer, hoping that if you're complimentary that Joel won't tell them about your incident outside.

"Way better than the old subcontractor we had to work for before." Tommy takes a sip of beer, shaking his head. "That guy was such a dick."

Joel flashes Tommy a nod of agreement before looking distracted. You wonder if it's you doing it to him or the phone call he took right before this. When it's clear Joel won't be asking you anything, Tommy speaks up.

"And what do you do again?"

"I work at a humane society here in Austin," you say between sips of your drink. "The job doesn't pay great but I love animals."

You trail off noting that Tommy looks frustrated with himself. "Shit, that's right. Maria said that."

"Don't beat yourself up," you laugh. "It's not exactly the most memorable job on the planet."

Joel makes a little scoffing noise of agreement. As if his job is so much more enthralling.

You hold in a biting comment as the waitress approaches your table and this time you see her name tag reads Felicia. She's a pretty girl with bright red hair who clearly has interest in the man across from you.

"Bruschetta for the table?" Tommy asks with a glance in everyone's direction. You all nod because who would say no to bruschetta?

Felicia's eyes linger on Joel even as she takes everyone else's orders for dinner.

Good. She can go home with him for all you care. If anything she'd be doing you a favor.

The silence is back when she's gone and you can't miss the strained look passing between Maria and Tommy. You don't blame them; this entire experience feels tense and uncomfortable. Maria is subtly nudging you in the ankle with her boot, flicking her eyes from you to Joel and back again. The meaning is clear: make an effort.

Only for Maria would you suffer through this dinner. Only for Maria would you try to engage the stone-faced man across from you. You take a deep breath before forcing a smile in Joel's direction

"So, Joel, what do you do for fun?"

Joel looks as if he's getting the same amount of non-verbal grief from his brother because he straightens a bit, looking at you from under thick lashes.

"I hunt."

You cringe. Not even inwardly, you full-out wince at that. Hunting has always been one of those things you've never seen the point to in modern society. Sure, when food had to be hunted or families starved it made sense. But nowadays? It seemed barbaric.

And knowing what you do for a job, you're shocked at the lack of tact. Hobbies were a dime a dozen and that's the one he brings up?

Asshole.

He seems to notice your recalcitrance because that same cool appraisal is back on his face.

"And what do you enjoy?"

You don't miss the sarcasm in his tone betraying that he really doesn't give a fuck, but decide to answer him sincerely regardless.

"I read. I hike, I paint, I watch zombie movies."

Joel winces at that. "Can't stand 'em."

What a shock. Something else you don't have in common.

You almost feel like this entire date was devised just to make Tommy and Maria feel less guilty about being so in love and your feel a stab of resentment. Tommy seems to notice the tension building because he jumps in a little too eagerly.

"Joel plays guitar. He's really good."

"And you sing," Maria adds, nudging you again before looking at Joel and Tommy. "Her voice is so beautiful."

Both you and Joel answer almost simultaneously. "Not anymore."

Your eyes flick to one another in surprise before the meals are brought to the table by the far too peppy Felicia.

"Careful," she tells Joel with a purr. "Your plate is very hot."

"Thanks," Joel says flashing her a quick smile. You note the dimple in his right cheek when he does.

"What kind of animals come through your job?" Tommy asks, spearing a piece of chicken.

"The usual, cats, dogs, small animals like hamsters, ferrets," you list these off with ease. "With some of the other sites in we house sheep and horses."

"That would've been our dream job as kids, huh Joel?" Tommy says with a faraway smile. "Being surrounded by animals, helping 'em."

Joel gives an agreeing grunt by way of a reply, chewing his dinner with a frown. It's so obvious that he would rather be anywhere but here.

"It's not all dreamy," you answer, pretending Joel isn't even there. "I work at the main office so I barely get to see the animals. Most of the time I'm grant writing because we're so underfunded."

You frown, thinking about the difficulty of going into work knowing that you can't save every poor animal that crosses your path.

"Plus after the flooding last month the office is trashed, but there was this grant for office restoration." You talk excitedly, knowing exactly what you'll do with the money.

"Guaranteed that even if she gets the grant for the office reno's she'll put it all to the kennels they need," Maria says to Tommy but she's looking at you fondly. "That's why I love her."

You feel shy under the twin gazes of Tommy and Maria and you want to turn to Joel and scream: "See! I'm not as horrible at you thought! I'm not just a bitch who screams at people in parking lots!" but you have I'm feeling even if you did that he wouldn't believe you enough to care.

"Well, when you do get the grant, I know a great contractor," Maria says with a wink in Tommy's direction. Tommy blushes slightly in response, offering a quick nod.

"I'll definitely keep you in mind," you say to Tommy, stabbing your pasta with your fork. "Everything is so expensive to build; maybe you'll give me the 'Maria's best friend' discount."

Tommy and Maria laugh but Joel remains stone-faced.

"What about you guys?" You address them both but its Tommy you look at. "I don't know much about what you do aside from restorations like Maria's place."

"We have a few bids in this month," Tommy says through a mouthful of his chicken. "Really hoping for this one build at a military site, but the lead on it is kind of a nightmare. We worked with her once before. Needs to have constant meetings about every little thing right, Joel?"

Tommy looks over at his older brother.

"It's a good gig," Joel nods, sliding a piece of bread through the marinara sauce on his plate. "Kathleen's usually a dog with a bone, but pretty harmless overall."

He goes back to his meal, eating quickly. Tommy looks dumbfounded by his brothers behaviour.

Fuck this guy.

Yeah, you were rude to him in the parking lot. But that was just between the two of you. Now he's making it horrible for an entire table of people who are just trying their best to have a pleasant evening.

There's a faint buzzing and you watch Joel fumble for his phone, an old blackberry. He reads whose calling and excuses himself. You all watch as he leaves, heading for the exit.

"You sure he's not a drug dealer on the side?" You joke. "Last time I saw a guy react like that to a phone call he was selling weed outta his mom's basement."

Maria shoots you a grin.

"It's Sarah," Tommy replies with a glance after his brother. "It's the first time Joel's left her with a sitter that's not me."

Sarah? A sitter? Wait, Joel has a kid? That miserable jerk found someone to willingly procreate with? You don't remember that part of the information Maria gave you in the car.

"He's pretty protective of her," Tommy continues. "He's worried she may be a lot of work with new people."

With Joel as her father, you're hardly shocked. You imagine a little girl with serious dark eyes and a bad attitude.

"Has he been divorced a long time?" Maria asks, and you realize she knows very little about Joel as well.

"Almost four years, but apart longer."

You nod and the three of you eat quietly, listening to the sound of bland Italian elevator music in the background. Joel reappears a short time later, sliding into his seat as Tommy looks over.

"Sarah okay?"

"She's fine," Joel nods, his voice low and rumbling. "She just couldn't find toad."

"She has a toad?"

Joel's eyes slope over to you in irritation. "It's a stuffed animal."

"Oh."

"The sitter's a moron," Joel says to Tommy with a dark look. "Got her all hopped up on sugar."

"Connie isn't a moron, Joel," Tommy defends. "She takes care of her own mother practically full time."

You and Maria exchange a look as the brothers disagree.

"I shouldn't have left her alone with them." Joel is getting more agitated by the second; he's not even hearing what his brother is saying. "They have that old dog of theirs."

"She's fine, Joel."

"I shouldn't have come," Joel mutters as he pulls some cash from his wallet and drops it on the table beside Tommy's plate. "This was such a bad idea. Such a waste of time. I gotta go."

You say nothing, but the blood is rising in your cheeks as you stare down at your plate. You want to believe that Joel is leaving solely because of his kid, but a large part of you knows she's just a convenient excuse to cut the evening short.

"I'll see you later" Joel grumbles to Tommy before he's left the table without a backwards glance or a goodbye to you.

As he strides off you want to laugh. This entire evening has been a joke from start to finish. Tommy is shooting Maria a sheepish look of silent apology. Obviously the evening hasn't gone how anyone anticipated it would.

"I'm so sorry," Maria starts but you cut her off.

"It's fine, just exhausted from work. Mind if I just take off?"

"Of course," Maria looks inconsolable. "Just take the car, Tommy will drop me off later."

You nod, holding out a twenty to her that she won't accept. You pocket it after a brief goodbye to Tommy you head to the entrance of the restaurant. You only exit when you're sure that Joel's truck is gone from the parking lot.

/////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// ///////

You pull up to the house, thankful the rain has stopped. Maria's place is on a quiet, suburban street with identical lawns and mailboxes. She doesn't do much with the exterior of the home, but it's a nice navy blue color with bright white shutters. It feels especially welcoming after your horrible dinner.

You can't stop thinking about Joel. His miserable face and the way he practically ran out of the restaurant. You kick a rock angrily on your way up the sidewalk as you move towards the house.

"You look like Bill after Bush got elected."

Your eyes dart up to house next to Maria's. The neighbor Frank is standing there on the front porch holding a cigarette elegantly between his fingers

His home is a similar in shape and color to Maria's, but that's where it ends. Where Maria's house is plain, this house is immaculately kept with bright flowers under the windows. The door is a lacquered black and a simple green wreath hangs in its upper center. It feels sophisticated and welcoming all at once.

Frank gives you another sharp look, a smirk quirking his lips.

The first day you'd arrived at Maria's, your eyes puffy and dressed in three-day-old sweats, he'd sent over a basket of goodies with a note that simply said: straight men ain't shit, your neighbors Frank and Bill. You'd liked him straightaway ever since. He's funny and charming and never seems to be in a bad mood.

Maria has nothing but good things to say about him. Best neighbor she's ever had, according to her. You often find them on either side of the fence that separates their lawns, gossiping about things in the neighborhood. Frank always seems happy, always seems upbeat.

But right now you don't feel like being happy. You want to climb into bed and be sad.

"Just a bad night," you frown, pulling your purse further up your shoulder and moving towards your place.

"Where I come from, bad days usually call for a drink."

You've never been a drinker. You occasionally have beer with fish and chips in the summer. Hot chocolate with a splash of rum at Christmas. Sangria at dinner with a bad blind date. But you've been to Frank's before and you know that whatever they have will taste amazing.

Frank's eyes are playful as he watches you pause. You shuffle back in his direction, a wry smile on your face before you glance at his door nervously.

"Is Bill around?"

Dumb question. Bill is always around. Always frowning, always building something and muttering about elaborate anti-government theories you don't always follow but smile politely at. Bill makes you nervous, but then again, he makes everyone nervous.

"Basement," Frank smiles beckoning you with a wave forward. "If he comes upstairs I'll handle him."

You don't need much more invitation than that. You bound up the stairs to his place, placing your bag at the entryway and following him into the kitchen.

While the outside of Frank and Bill's place is beautiful, the inside is breathtaking. The color of the walls is a soft green, the wood stair railing boasts intricate details of florals and the piece de resistance is the gleaming black baby grand piano that sits in the living room.

You think about pressing one of the ivory keys as you walk by but stop yourself. Everything in this home is so beautiful, so wonderfully cared for that the thought of moving any if it, even a fraction seems cruel.

"Does Bill ever play for anyone?"

"He does." Frank is in the kitchen bringing two large wineglasses down from the shelf.

You roll your eyes. "You don't count."

"Rude," Frank says with an arched brow, but there's no power behind it. "If I get him liquored up enough he might be persuaded to play for an audience of more than just me."

You watch him pour the crimson liquid into the dual glasses before handing it to you. You follow him to the sitting room by the piano, your eyes glancing longingly at it.

"It's a Beaujolais," Frank says sitting across from you as he swirls his glass with the finesse of a professional sommelier. "Very fruitful with a few smoky notes."

You twist the delicate stem between your fingertips and peer into the glass. "Looks . . . Red."

Frank laughs at your unrefined palette. He and Bill and wine connoisseurs, their home stocked with all manner of wine and other spirits.

"You look especially dressed up," Frank offers warmly at the wine slips over your tastebuds. "Hot date?"

"If my date tonight is any indication of what's out there, I think I might just stay single forever."

"Was he really that bad?" Frank's handsome face is concerned.

"He's a grey sprinkle on a rainbow cupcake."

Frank laughs loudly, his head tossed back. You smile around your wine glass, secretly pleased you could elicit such a response.

"Was he cute at least?"

"No," you answer a bit too quickly.

Frank looks about to reply when the door to the basement is shoved open with a bang.

A stout man with shoulder length brown hair and a scraggly beard looks around the room wildly blinking, as if his large blue eyes are adjusting to the lights.

He's wearing an old grey sweatshirt, threadbare with holes in the collar. He's such a stark contrast to his husband whose facial hair is meticulously groomed, his patterned orange shirt pressed and smelling like expensive cologne. If you got close enough to Bill you know he'd smell like sweat and oil from whatever he's been working on downstairs.

Bill approaches you both, his eyes sliding to your figure at the table and frowning, the crease between his brows deepening. You raise your hand in a small wave.

"Evening, Bill."

"What are you doing here?" His eyes drift to your wineglass. "And is that my wine?"

"Manners," Frank warns with a teasing lilt. "And last time I checked, Bill, it was our wine."

"Yours and mine. Not hers," Bill grumbles as he lumbers over to the kitchen to pour himself a glass.

You assume he'll head back downstairs but he shuffles to the table and plops down next to Frank, the chair squeaking under him. Sitting next to each other they seem like such an odd pair, and yet when Frank absently moves hair behind Bill’s ear and they look at one another smiling softly, you think there has never been a couple better matched.

"Our girl here finally went out on a date," Frank says like a proud father.

"A blind date," you explain with a wince. "And a bad one. Almost makes me remember Paul fondly."

At least Paul had never insulted and then walked out on you in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

"Paul," Bill scoffs into his glass, shaking his head. "Idiot man-child."

You smile at this, appreciating Bills acerbic tone when it's directed at a common enemy. You take this moment of unexpected civility and indicate to the piano with your wineglass.

"Hey Bill do you think you'd ever play for me?"

Bill turns his hardened gaze on you.

"Not a fucking chance."

#fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller #fanfiction #dad joel miller #smut #pedro pascal

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pub-lius · 5 months

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back back back again with the lafayette content (lafayette pt. 5)

you know the drill, here's pt. 4, gay people

Where we left off, Lafayette had just had a very exciting campaign in Rhode Island (the most exciting thing to ever happen in Rhode Island), but now what? Nothing. Nothing is happening. I'm not joking, he was bored for several months.

So, here's the real question, how would you, as a little French man in America who somehow obtained the title of major general, handle your boredom? Correct! You would duel Lord Carlisle, the head of the British peace commission.

Or at least, you'd try. Lafayette challenged Carlisle, but Carlisle fucking ignored him. Because obviously.

So when that fell through, Lafayette decided to just. go home. Not permanently, but for a visit. I mean, he was only gone for like a shit ton of time, and had left behind his pregnant wife without a real explanation, and in that time his eldest daughter, Henriette, had DIED. So, it was about time to go home. And when he was contemplating this, he checked how much money he had left, and realized he was broke and was like yeah it's time to go home.

In addition to this, he also wanted to apologize to the king since he kinda fled the country against direct orders and nearly started a war with England. One of Lafayette's main goals in life was to fight under the French flag, and he couldn't really do that unless the king liked him. So, he got a letter of recommendation and the promise of a ceremonial sword from Benjamin Franklin, and headed home to France.

Back, back, back again (in France)

Everyone was SO HAPPY to see Lafayette in France, and I would be too. Lafayette went to Versailles and was like "heeyyy King Louis XVI, my favorite king of all time, I'm really sorry for fleeing the country despite direct orders not to and nearly starting a war with England, do you forgive me?" and King Louis XVI put him on house arrest. But, to be fair, that is a very mild punishment, considering what he did was somewhat akin to treason.

Also, fun fact for the frev/Marie Antoinette girlies who know about her relationship with Lafayette during the French Revolution, she actually intervened on his behalf, which allowed him to buy a command of a regiment of the King's Dragoons! Which is like a huge favor because that command cost him 80,000 livres, which in modern US dollars is what the scholars call a shit ton.

This new popularity in France allowed him to aid the American cause in France by corresponding with French and American dignitaries, advocating the wants and needs of one side to the other. He actually played a vital role in this area, and John Adams, who did absolutely fuck all, got jealous and started beef with him for no fucking reason.

Lafayette didn't forget about his military ambitions, and was apart of a plan to attack the English mainland with John Paul Jones. This didn't work out and Lafayette was greatly disappointed (again), but it would never have been supported by France, so idrk what they expected. Fun fact, this was one of the many ideas Benjamin Franklin and Lafayette came up with together, along with a kinda gruesome children's book.

In the meantime, Lafayette daydreamed about being sent back to America in charge of the French naval forces he helped to negotiate. As you expected, he was very disappointed when they were put under the command of Rochambeau, who was just overall more qualified for the job.

While he was in France, he engaged in some ~aristocratic adventures in the arts and sciences~, and that's not an innuendo, he almost joined Franz Mezmer's cult. This is, actually, the first of two times he almost JOINED A FUCKING CULT. The second time was an Amish cult. So. There's that.

(If necessary, I can employ my boyfriend to explain how Lafayette was exactly the kind of person to get roped into a cult.)

In America Again! (This time it's Serious)

Lafayette returned in a bleak season of the war in which many of the Continental officers (Washington included) were itching for a major engagement with the British, and planned a French-American attack at some large British occupied area, hopefully with a good port.

The ideal place seemed to be New York City, and Lafayette was fixated on that. He was hoping he could have a major command in the attack. And, you guessed it, was super disappointed when he was ordered to march to Virginia to join General Greene. He was present for most of the Virginia campaign, and his main target was the traitor, Benedict Arnold.

PLOT TWIST that major attack was never in New York, but would actually be at Cornwallis' station in Yorktown, Virginia. Lafayette commanded the major Continental infantry forces that kept Cornwallis pinned at Yorktown while the commands under Washington, Rochambeau, and Admiral de Grasse surrounded him in a violent siege.

The one catch-up was that the trenches they were digging couldn't fully surround the British reinforcements due to two redoubts, 9 and 10. Lafayette's American command (led by Colonel Alexander Hamilton with his own command and Colonel John Laurens with a division under Greene) partnered with a division under Rochambeau to attack the redoubts, which led the British to surrender.

One of my favorite little details about the Revolution is that, at the surrender, the British troops refused to look at the American soldiers, so Lafayette told his band to start blasting Yankee Doodle to get their attention. Absolute icon.

I'm gonna cut this one a little early since this is the end of Lafayette's involvement in the American Revolution, and the French Revolution will require WAAYYY more attention. See you in part 6, gay people

#lafayette #marquis de lafayette #alexander hamilton #john laurens #history #amrev #george washington #american history #amrev history #american revolution #do it for richie 💪

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smartycvnt · 1 year

Text

Better Off Dead

Title: Better Off Dead Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Summary: You and Dean have a little heart to heart. NR WC: 832

You had spent a long time trying to undo the damage that John Winchester had done in your life. His one visit to you had ended up giving you a healthy hatred of hunters. There were a few exceptions to your general feeling of the group, but those were few and far between. Most of the good ones had been picked off anyways. It was always the bad ones who tended to waltz into your life to fuck it up for a brief period of time. Dean Winchester had been a hard one to peg at first. You had immediately been distrustful of both him and his brother whenever they had shown up at your doorstep all those years ago, but you found yourself growing fond of him the more he popped up.

It didn't make any sense to you, but monsters seemed to gravitate towards you. You could move across the country and still end up in a town or part of a city riddled with some kind of monster. Sometimes they weren't really hurting anybody, but more often than not you ended up having to call it in to the Winchesters. Sometimes Sam came along with Dean, but lately, Dean had been coming on his own. You didn't mind, Sam was a good friend, but you doubted that it was all that fun to be around you and Dean whenever Dean flirted with you like he did. Especially whenever Sam had very obviously had a thing for you when the two of you first met.

"At this point, one of us needs to just follow you around," Dean joked as he jogged up towards your front porch. This was your fourth house in half as many years. The issue with this one had been an easy fix, which was nice because you couldn't afford to move again. People were getting suspicious, and honestly, you liked this town a lot more than you had expected to. So, you called Dean to take care of your demon next door problem and decided to really settle down here.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" The teasing back and forth had become a constant whenever you and Dean were around each other. Sometimes things stayed innocent, but other times they got a little heated. Dean rolled his eyes as he went in for a hug. You were more than happy to indulge him, hugging him back tightly before he pulled away. "You're looking a little soft, did you stop by Jody's before this?"

"Ha, ha, ha." Dean crossed his arms over his chest as you dragged him into your house. A soft smile made its way onto Dean's face as he looked around your house at all of the little touches of you there were inside of it. "Nice place you got here, not exactly how I'd decorate it, but it suits you."

"This is going to be my home, I just know it. One day I'm gonna have a family running around here, I'm going to make sure that John was wrong about me," you said. Dean's face fell as he remembered the words John had written by your name. It wasn't fair for John to declare you "better off dead" especially whenever you hadn't done anything other than exist. You were like Sam, the golden child of some demon who had come in and killed your parents. It wasn't as bad as Sam's demon, but you had been orphaned and nearly killed yourself multiple times because of it. Worst of all, you seemed to attract all sorts of creatures who wanted to help this demonic being claim their vessel.

"You've done a damn good job of doing that already." Dean's sincerity made your heart ache in a way that nobody else's could. There was always a sense of longing from him whenever the two of you had these moments. Neither of you acted on it, despite both of you desperately wanting to. Living your life to the fullest meant going after the things you wanted, so you decided to bite the bullet and go for it.

"You should stay for dinner tonight. Oh, and breakfast in the morning, I'm making pancakes," you told him. Dean perked up at the mention of food. "There's only really one finished bedroom, but it's okay, we can share."

"Share?" Dean questioned. "What kind of guy do you take me for?"

"Shut up and kiss me like you've been wanting to for the past seven years," you told him. Dean muttered something under his breath that you didn't quite catch, but still took you into his arms. In that moment, you were definitely glad that John hadn't killed you and that Sam had the idea of checking in on you to find out information whenever he read about you in the journal. Most of all, you were glad that they moved on from the idea that you were just a bloodstain in the life of John Winchester's life.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural x reader #my writing

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alicewritingstories · 2 months

Text

Febuwhump Day 20: Truth serum

CW: torture, drugs

AO3

---

Time grunted as another slap snapped his head round, making the chair to which he was tied rock. He coughed, spitting blood from a split lip, and looked up again at his captors as best he could, given that his one good eye was swollen almost entirely closed.

"Just give us the Rod of Seasons and this ends, kid," said one of the men standing over him.

"Long time since I've been called 'kid'," he said thickly, forcing a grin. The remark earned him another slap. He let his head hang for a moment until the room stopped swirling, then said, "Look, I don't even know what you're talking about."

It wasn't true. The Rod of Seasons was one of the items they'd seen when they visited Legend's house. But it would take a lot more than this for Time to share that information.

A hand tangled in his hair and pulled his head up, then, to his surprise, the edge of a cup was pushed to his lips. He'd had nothing to drink since they'd kidnapped him and he swallowed a mouthful of the liquid in the cup almost before he realized what was happening and, more importantly, noticed the odd aftertaste the water left on his tongue. Drugs or poison.

As soon as he realized what was happening, he tried to pull away, but the hand holding his hair kept his head still and more of the tainted water was poured into his mouth so he had to either swallow or drown. He swallowed.

Once they'd forced the whole cup down his throat, they finally released him and let his head fall forward again. He waited with bated breath to find out what exactly it was that they had just given him.

At first he didn't feel anything wrong, but gradually he became aware that his vision was blurring at the edges. Then that breathing seemed to be taking more conscious effort. He knew he should be worried about that, but somehow it didn't seem to matter. It felt distant. As if he was just watching it happen. The same thing slowly happened to the pain in his head and face. It was there, but it didn't seem to matter.

He vaguely knew he was in danger, but the fact slid away from his thoughts, too difficult to concentrate on. Too distant.

Vaguely, he wondered if this was what it was like to be really, really drunk. He'd never tried that. Perhaps it would be fun. This certainly felt kind of nice.

"Now," said a voice. It echoed slightly in Link's head. "Let's try this again."

Try what again?

Oh, yes, he did know this voice. It had been asking him questions. And was its owner the one who had been hitting him to make his head hurt? That… that sounded right.

"Where is the Rod of Seasons?"

Rod of Seasons.

A memory swam to the surface: a finger pointed to a short staff. A voice: "That? It's the Rod of Seasons. It does pretty much what you'd expect."

"Yes, we know what it does," said the voice, and Link realized he'd spoken the remembered words aloud. "Where is it?"

Again, the words slipped out before Link was even fully aware of them. "On the wall."

"What wall?"

From somewhere in the fog, Link remembered that he didn't want to answer their questions. He couldn't remember why, but… it felt important. Maybe… someone had asked him to keep a secret. Or this person wanted to hurt someone. Or something.

"Hey!" Fingers snapped in front of his face. "The Rod of Seasons. Where is it kept?"

Didn't he know?

Well, if he didn't know, there was probably a reason for that. Link slurred out, "It's a secret."

An impatient sigh. "OK, I get that, but you can tell me. Just tell me."

"No. It's a secret." He didn't understand why, but that… it felt important.

Another angry, impatient noise and Link's head snapped to the side with a sudden flare of pain. He yelped in surprise and looked up at the man who had just hit him.

"That hurt!" he said, not caring about the whine in his voice or the tears that spilled from his eyes.

"I know. Now tell me where the Rod of Seasons is or I'll hurt you again."

Link's breath caught in a sob. Why was this stranger hurting him? Why did any of this matter? Someone he cared about had asked him… had asked him to keep a secret… why was that wrong?

There was a throbbing, rushing noise in Link's ears as he started to cry. The floaty, distant feeling no longer felt nice. He was scared. There was so much noise. Voices shouting, crashes of metal and wood. What had he done wrong?

"It's a secret…" he whispered. "It's a secret…"

The world around him swirled and suddenly he was lying down. There were different voices now. Familiar voices.

Concussion - you hear me - time - what did…

"It's a secret," he murmured.

Something was glowing. Something crawled in the skin of his face, but he couldn't concentrate enough to wonder what it was or try to brush it away.

"OK, Time," a gentler voice said. "Can you open your eye for me?"

He hadn't realized he'd closed it. He looked up and faces swam into focus. He knew them.

"You…" he said vaguely. "You're safe. I love you all."

A couple of them exchanged concerned looks. Another laughed uncomfortably. "Oh, yeah," he said. "That's a concussion, for sure."

That was the voice that had told him about the Rod of Seasons. The one he'd promised he'd keep secrets for. Link reached for him.

"Kept your secret," he said, smiling.

The boy looked confused, but took the outstretched hand. "I, uh… thanks," he said.

"Let's get you out of here," said one of the others. Link looked up at him, his eyes caught by the bright blue of his scarf.

"'S pretty," he said. "Blue. Pretty."

"I know," chuckled the man - his brother, he realized. "Just relax. Twilight, can you carry him?"

"Y're my brother," he said, letting his eye close again. The floaty feeling was back. It felt good again, and he once more didn't care that he was starting to cry. This time it was from good feelings. "Love you all."

"We love you too, Time. Get some rest."

#febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday20 #linked universe #lu time #cw:torture #cw: drugs #linked universe whump

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strwberri-milk · 9 months

Note

Hellos, may I request Al Haitham where they learn that their s/o is a reader too. Like when they go to their house, they see this huge library and stuff. All the books seemingly read as their annotated, and when you look at the books they have tabs, drawings, pasted memes, post-its, and writings. The books from different genres, the same books with different covers, rare books and stuff. The reader allows them to read and borrow them as he likes. They also offer to annotate a book for them if he wants. How would they react?

And a book reading date kind of after maybe

I changed the prompt just a scootch!!

Al Haitham spends a lot of time with his nose in a book because it means he can sit with his thoughts alone, or sit and digest somebody else's ideas without the expectation of maintaining a conversation if he chooses not to. To him, it's the perfect way to spend some time by himself while keeping his brain active.

When he met you he found that you were similar enough to him. He enjoyed reading books that you recommended, feeling as though he was growing closer to you with each page he finished. It was a less intrusive way for him to learn more about you, giving you some books he likes himself to return the favour.

He thought that you were slightly more casual than he was. Your overlap didn't seem to be all that great and the books that you'd give him to read weren't exactly as academic as the ones he would read. Then again, anything seems less academic when you're reading a literal textbook for fun.

The first time you invite him over he's not expecting too much. He thought that the two of you would just sit down for some snacks and discuss the latest book you finished, not expecting to be lead down a hall into a glorious library. He has his own but somehow, you've breathed life into the books on the shelves. He can tell that you've read a majority of them from the wear on the spine or the familiar way you grab them, flags sticking out of slightly stretched-out spines.

You hand him one, him recognising it as a new copy of a book he mentioned wanting to read to you in passing. He didn't expect you to be able to get a copy, knowing how difficult it was for him even with his connections now as the Acting Grand Sage. You give him another copy, this one just as annotated as the other ones he determines with a precursory flip through the pages.

Al Haitham is a bit of a purist with his books, keeping them all in pristine condition and not wanting to mark them up. However, the way your books are clearly loved as he looks through others while you find something to eat together makes his fingers itch to try it himself. He's a bit of a perfectionist so he doesn't think he'd be able to do well on his own books.

You return after a while, bringing with you some supplies to annotate. You catch him browsing all of your books when you get back, fingers gently tracing over the rarer books in your collection. as he asks you a few questions about how you managed to get these copies, telling him a little about it as you offer him some things.

You two don't often just sit and read together but now he's finding himself really wanting to do more of it in the future. You told him that it might be a nice and chill thing to do with each other as the two of you have been so busy lately that you just wanted to come down from the stress but still being together.

He listens as you work through your own book, getting antsy as he tries to continue to finish his own. You've left your copy of the book he wanted to read on the table and he's so tempted to skim through it, look through the notes you left on the margins. You notice his eyes flitting to and fro and with a quiet chuckle, you silently pass the book to him.

Al Haitham's expression is almost unreadable as he works through the pages at his own pace. However, he's distracted enough that you can steal a couple glances at him as he smiles at some of the notes you've left, nail gently tracing the outlines of the words as he reads them aloud to himself.

#genshin x reader #al haitiham x reader #genshin impact x reader

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ghostofskywalker · 1 year

Text

Hopeless Mistakes

Kate Bishop/Fem!Reader

Fictober Day 31 of 31

Words: 1,067

@taylorswiftbingo square: house party

Summary: [College/No Powers AU] After your friends drag you to a costume party, you end up hooking up with an ex that you never thought you'd see again. But it's fine, because Halloween parties were supposed to be for making bad decisions, right?

Kate Bishop Masterlist

As you opened your eyes in the morning you thought you were dreaming, because you haven’t seen this room in over a year, and you recognized it instantly. Everything looked exactly the same as it did the last time you had woken up in this bed, and for a moment it was like you had somehow time traveled back to that day.

Then you saw the angel wings and white dress discarded on the floor, alongside pieces of your own outfit from the previous night, and you knew exactly what happened. Every memory you had from the party came flooding back at once, and you sighed as you realized that you had broken your one big rule.

Don’t hook up with any of your exes.

You had seen too many of your friends’ relationships crumble and then a few weeks later that significant other was back in their life, and it never worked out the way your friend claimed it would. To you, getting back together with an ex was like rereading a book and expecting a different ending, and you had now made a huge mistake.

It always started with a party, and you should have known better.

At first, you didn’t know who it was that had reached for the same wine cooler as you. “I’m sorry!” you said over the sound of the thumping music, and then you turned to see who it was that your hand had brushed against.

“Y/N?” her voice still sounded exactly the same as it always did, even though you almost didn’t recognize her. However, you blamed the fact that you didn’t realize she was here on the fact that she was wearing a costume, and the angel outfit she was wearing was a lot different than anything you’d ever seen her in before.

“Kate?” Your mouth dropped open and you looked her up and down once you both had drinks in your hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you right away!” You kept your tone light, trying not to let your shock show on your face. Yes, you went to the same school, but you rarely crossed paths due to your majors being different, and that had only increased after you broke up.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I hate this outfit, but unfortunately it wasn’t my turn to pick the costume this year.”

You could tell that Kate’s friends had probably picked out the costume, but if you were being serious, you weren’t complaining about it. She looked good, and for a few moments your liquor sated brain considered some actions that you would have never even came up with if you were sober.

That night, you kept talking to her.

And one thing led to another.

You were kissing her in the hallway of the house, your lips hot against hers, not even caring if you messed up her makeup. You probably had some of of her lipstick smeared over your own lips, but that was the least of your thoughts as you continued to kiss her.

To your drunk mind, this was exactly what you were supposed to be doing right now. Halloween in college was all about wearing stupid outfits and making bad decisions, right?

She had been the one to suggest going back to her place, and you accepted without a second thought. There was a nagging voice at the back of your mind that warned of the way you would feel about this in the morning, but you paid that part of yourself no mind. The logical version of you was never any fun, you thought as you fell into her bed and she started to pull off the pieces of your costume as she kissed you.

For a fleeting moment, everything about this felt right.

***

Now, you were in quite a pickle. Kate had not woken up yet, so you were stuck with the knowledge of your actions the previous night and you had no one around to offer any kind of reassurance. As much as you wanted to sink back into the expensive sheets and forget about the fact that you had broken your only personal rule, you just couldn’t.

Maybe this would be the one time your rule wouldn’t apply, your brain tried to argue. After all, there was no big argument between you and Kate that had ended things, you just were at points in your life where you could no longer sustain a serious relationship. But no matter how you tried to rationalize the situation, the fact of the matter was still the same: you had to figure out what the hell you were going to do before she woke up. Thankfully she was not a light sleeper, because you knew she would not be happy with the decision you ended up making.

Trying to remain as quiet as possible, you slipped out of bed, gingerly collecting your clothes from the floor and putting them back on. You took a quick look around to see if Kate still had any of your clothes lying around from when you were together, but you were out of luck on that one. You could add “doomed to the walk of shame” to your ever-growing list of problems this morning.

You knew that it was highly unlikely that Kate would have forgotten ever seeing you when she woke up (whatever time that would be), so you quickly scribbled out a note on a piece of stationary and left it on the pillow before quietly tiptoeing out the door.

Kate,

I apologize for all of my actions last night. Don’t feel that you have to call me, I understand the situation.

Y/N

When you got back to your own apartment, your roommate gave you a strange look as she realized you were still wearing your costume from the previous night’s party. You just shook her head as she opened her mouth, and you made your way back to your room before closing the door behind you and collapsing into your own bed, not even bothering to change into your pajamas.

Maybe one day you pull together the courage to talk to her face to face and apologize for everything, and maybe you could have found the one situation in which your stupid exes rule didn’t apply, but you were scared. Right now, all you wanted to do was sleep.

- the end -

#taylorswiftbingo #ghostofskywalker.fictober #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x you #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop fanfiction #kate bishop x female reader #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction

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riality-check · 1 year

Text

how max becomes part of the gang in my little bootlegging universe. parts 1, 2, and 3, if you'd like to read those as well.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, descriptions of minor injuries, and a brief reference to hypothetical animal death

Dustin has a knack for finding things. If asked, he says it’s because his mother is forgetful and he always has to remind her where she put her glasses or her checkbook or her purse. If asked by people he actually likes, he says he got it from Eddie, since Eddie is the one who found him.

But in reality?

Dustin’s brain is constantly bored. It’s restless and fast-moving, on to point D when everyone else is still sorting through A. So, while Dustin waits, he searches. He counts the windows of buildings and strains his ears to hear chatter from a street over. He busies himself with combing through the unobtrusive to help quell the feeling of restless pressure that constantly fills his skull.

It’s this need to do that has him spot the flash of lilac that turns the street corner.

People here don’t wear those kinds of clothes. People here wear dark coats and deep colored dresses. People here keep to themselves and do anything to not stand out. And a girl in a lilac dress just turned the corner at breakneck speed amidst all the slow-moving onlookers in drab shades of brown and green.

Here, Dustin thinks, is a pretty crappy place to be.

It’s outside of their usual territory, which is ill-advised at best and dangerous at worst. It’s not controlled by a rival, thank god, but it’s not under Upside Down control, either. It’s a part of town where the buildings look like they’re leaning on each other for support, where kids play barefoot on cobblestone streets, where beggars grace the stoop of every building until they’re chased off by gnarled, formidable old ladies with brooms.

Truthfully, it doesn’t really matter what it is. What matters is the fact that Mike said he was going out, and Dustin wasn’t going to let him go alone, not when he knew there was no chance in hell he’d be able to stop him.

Will has been missing for one day. If Dustin were to ask Mike, he’s sure the answer would be a hell of a lot more specific, but that’s all semantics he doesn’t really care for.

What he does care about is the lilac dress. It’s not like Will was wearing one, but, well Mom always did say Dustin’s curiosity would kill him one day.

“Hang on,” he says to Mike, who’s currently looking down an alleyway as if it’s not a surefire place to go in and not come out. He yanks him by the collar to a building ahead and puts his hands on Mike’s shoulders.

“What?” Mike grouches, and Dustin prays for a little bit of patience.

“I’m going a little bit ahead.”

“Why? Did you see him?”

“No, but I saw something out of the ordinary.”

“Not Will?”

Dustin resists the urge to sigh and shake Mike by the shoulders. “No, not Will. Just something curious.”

“Of course you did,” Mike mumbles without any of the usual humor in that comment.

Dustin wants to sock him in the face, but he says instead, “If I’m not back in five, come after me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mike says, but even that’s more acknowledgement than Dustin was expecting. He’ll take it.

Dustin lets go of Mike’s shoulders and starts heading in the direction of the girl, bypassing couples on the sidewalk and throwing a group of kids their baseball when it rolls toward him. They ask if he wants to play with them, and while that honestly sounds fun, he’s got other things to worry about.

She can’t have gone far. She was moving fast, sure, but Dustin is pretty sure she was moving unsteadily, too. That fast with a limp? She’s running, and she’s hurt.

Dustin isn’t exactly sure why he cares. Well, that’s objectively a lie. Dustin knows he has a habit of finding strays and making sure they’re alright on their own. He doesn’t bother with trying to keep them; he can’t afford to, and a lot of the time, they’re too flea-ridden for his mother to let in the house. So, he feeds them and cares for them as best as he can until they move on to bigger and better things.

(Steve suggested once that maybe they died instead. When he said that, Dustin smacked him so hard he spat out his drink and dropped the glass he was holding. The amount Hopper made him shell out for the glass was worth taking Steve down a peg.

He might be their only consistent and best paying customer, but he can be such a prick sometimes, even if he is trying to get better.)

Dustin rounds the corner easy enough and looks for anything unusual in the alleyways. He makes his way through one block, then another, when finally he spots her.

She’s huddled, knees to her chest on top of a crate in an alley next to a grocer’s. She’s pale, real pale, with bright red hair that clashes with the lilac of her dress, which is stained black and slightly torn at the hem. Her limbs are small and skinny, and she’s not wearing shoes.

Her ankle is busted up pretty bad, and there’s bruises on her arms. When she straightens out her legs, Dustin sees blood crusted on her forehead and at the corner of her mouth.

Shit, he thinks to himself. This is the tuxedo cat on Maple all over again.

He takes his hat off and keeps his hands up, away from his body, as he enters the alley.

“Hey,” he says softly. “You alright?”

She flinches so subtly he would have missed it if it weren’t for his ever-cataloging brain. Her eyes, brilliant blue, flick toward him, and he isn’t sure if she relaxes or further tenses up, but the set of her shoulders changes.

“I don’t have time for this,” she says flatly, and she points a .22 straight at his chest.

“Woah, okay,” Dustin says, backing up a few steps. “I don’t think we need to do that.”

“I think we do.”

“Agree to disagree?” Dustin asks, trying for a smile.

He sees it, the moment she covers up her snort with a frown.

“Now, usually when someone asks if you’re alright, you answer with yes or no,” Dustin says.

“I’m fine,” the girl says.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine.”

“Your ankle is probably sprained.”

“Agree to disagree?” she says to him. Same words, but significantly nastier.

Dustin sighs. “Okay, let’s try again. I’m Dustin. What’s your name?”

She frowns, and her eyes dart all over the alleyway. Dustin wants to follow her gaze, wants to see what she’s looking at, but she still has that .22 trained at his chest, and even he knows that curiosity is absolutely not worth it in this case.

“Max,” she says finally.

“Max?” Dustin says. “That’s a man’s name.”

“Well, I’m a woman, and it’s my name, so I think that makes it a woman’s name,” she snaps.

Dustin shrugs. “I won’t argue with you on that.”

At that, she definitely relaxes. Strange.

“Who sent you?” she asks, changing the subject.

“No one,” Dustin says.

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not polite to swear.”

“It’s not right to lie.”

“I’m not lying,” Dustin says. “I’m looking for a friend.”

Max shrugs and leans back against the gray brick of the wall behind her, still keeping the gun trained on Dustin’s chest. “Can’t be me, then. I don’t even know your last name, Dustin.”

“It’s Henderson,” he says, even though that was probably a very stupid move, telling a girl he doesn’t know his full name when all his family and friends work for a speakeasy.

He’s starting to wish he nicked a pistol from behind the bar before they left, like Mike did.

Max, to her credit, seems just as stunned that Dustin said that as he is.

“Mayfield,” she says, lowering the gun an inch.

“Max Mayfield?” Dustin asks.

She nods and keeps lowering the gun. Dustin tries not to let the relief show on his face.

“It suits you,” he says, and he means it.

And there it is, ladies and gentlemen, the first smile he’s gotten out of her this entire time. It’s tiny, and it’s tense, but it’s there, and Dustin finds himself smiling because of it. The gun is almost down when-

“Dustin!” Mike calls and oh, shit.

“Mike, you son of a bitch,” Dustin swears because he looks over, and Mike has his pistol trained on Max.

“I knew you were pulling my leg,” Max says, bringing her gun back up to point at the center of Dustin’s chest.

“Curiosity? Really?” Mike says, annoyed. “Do I need to keep you on a leash?”

“No, but you need to learn how to time your entrances better,” Dustin mumbles, and Max snorts.

Good. Good. If she finds him funny, she’s less likely to pump him full of lead.

“Where’s Will?” Mike asks, keeping his pistol trained on Max.

Dustin fights the urge to roll his eyes. Mike doesn’t even have the hammer cocked.

“Who’s Will?” Max asks, swinging her gun over to Mike.

“Okay!” Dustin says, hopping between them. It does no good, not when Max is up on the crate and Mike is on the street and they both can just aim around him. He does, however, comfort himself with the fact that this will make Mike a lot less likely to shoot.

He’s hoping it’ll do the same for Max.

“Will’s our friend,” Mike says. “He’s missing, and we’re looking for him.”

“I don’t know a Will,” Max says moving her arms up to point the gun at the center of Mike’s forehead. “And I don’t care to. I’m gonna ask again: Who sent you?”

“No one sent us,” Dustin says again. “Why do you keep thinking that?”

“Because one of them always sends someone,” Max says. “They always do. But they can’t make me go back now. I’m eighteen, I’m an adult, and they can’t make me go back.”

Dustin gets the feeling that Max isn’t really talking about Mike and him anymore.

“So if you’re trying to bring me back, you’re gonna be shit out of luck and pumped full of lead.”

“I don’t care where you came from, I just want you to put your gun down and let us go back to finding our friend!” Mike says.

“And I want you to leave me the hell alone!” Max snaps.

“No,” Dustin says, and both of their heads whip toward him.

“What do you mean no?” they say in unison before they glare at each other again.

“Mike,” Dustin says slowly. “She’s hurt.”

“I have eyes.”

“So, let’s take her back to Joyce.”

“Who’s Joyce?” Max asks. Her voice is laced with suspicion, but she’s starting to lower the gun again.

“Our aunt,” Dustin says because it’s easier to say that than to explain everything to a random stranger.

Easier, and also a lot smarter, since he already gave her his last name. Then again, she gave him hers.

“And,” Dustin continues, “she can help us look for Will. If she wants.”

“She is right here,” Max says.

“Then what does she think?” Dustin asks.

Max shuts her mouth so fast her teeth click. She lowers her gun completely, and Mike, a full thirty seconds after he should have gotten the goddamn hint, does, too.

“I think,” Max says slowly, “that they don’t know a Joyce.”

Dustin nods and turns to Mike. “Well?”

Mike sighs and pockets his pistol. “It’s getting late, we should go back.”

It’s the answer Dustin expected, though not in the way he expected it. As good as he is at finding strays, Mike is a hell of a lot better at keeping them.

But before he can say anything, Mike walks away, leaving Dustin and Max alone in the alley.

He holds out a hand for her to take, but she pockets her handgun and jumps down off the crate, straight on to her sprained ankle.

“Don’t touch me,” she grits out, leaning on to the crate and breathing deeply.

“Do you want any help?” Dustin offers, holding out an arm to her.

“I’m fine.”

“I thought we agreed to disagree.”

She snorts and slowly stands up straight. Before Dustin can blink, she slings her arm around her shoulders.

“I can just carry you,” Dustin says, letting her start them off at a slow walk.

“You couldn’t carry a sack of potatoes half a block,” Max says. “And keep your hand above my waist and below my shoulder blades. If it moves, I’m using the handgun. I don’t care that we’re in the middle of the street.”

“First, rude. Second, we’re technically on the sidewalk. And third, I’m not gonna move my hand.”

“You better not,” Max mumbles, but she doesn’t reach for her gun.

Dustin leads her back to Joyce’s and lets her set the pace. It’s slow going, and by the time they get there, the stars have been out for half an hour.

Mike waits for them outside, smoking a cigarette.

“You good?” he asks, pointedly looking at Dustin.

“We’re fine,” Dustin says, ignoring the fact that as they walked, Max slowly slumped into him. She’s basically sideways now and hasn’t said anything for the past five minutes.

“Sorry,” Mike says, and Dustin appreciates that he actually means it. “I just wanted to check out a few more places before we had to be back.”

Dustin sighs. “Any luck?”

Mike shakes his head.

Dustin rests his free hand on his shoulder. “Get some sleep. We’ll go out in the morning.”

Mike nods, and they both ignore the tears in his eyes, the way his shoulders scrunch all the way to his ears.

“Come on,” Dustin says to Max as he opens the door. “We’re gonna get you to Joyce and get you cleaned up.”

“I’m clean enough,” Max mumbles.

“I mean the blood,” Dustin says, leading them through the diner and to the back wall. He feels around for the switch and a little snick lets him know that he found it. He pushes the wall aside and lets it swing shut behind them once they’re in the back.

“I think it matches my hair,” Max says, eyes slipping shut.

“I think it clashes,” Dustin says, moving her to the stage. It’s Sunday, and while they’re never closed, they’re significantly less busy the one day of the week where most of the city likes to pretend they’re moral people.

It’s dead empty, save for Hopper at the bar.

“What-”

“Get Joyce,” Dustin tells him, and as much as he’ll grumble about it, he goes.

“I think it clashes just like that dress,” Dustin says, getting Max seated on the edge of the stage before hopping up after her. Where the band is, he doesn’t know.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” Max jokes.

“The dress? Kinda.”

“Dresses,” she says, picking at the hem of her skirt, “in general.”

Dustin looks at her, assessing. They’d need some alterations, but-

“What,” Max snaps, and that’s when he realizes he’s been staring at her waist.

“I just went through a growth spurt,” he says.

“Congratulations?”

“I’ve got some pants that don’t fit anymore. If you want them.”

Max drops her skirt where she was fiddling with it. Dustin smiles in answer to her piercing stare, not knowing what else to do.

“You’re strange, Dustin Henderson.”

“I think you’re even stranger, Max Mayfield,” Dustin says, and the smile they share?

That’s the beginning of history.

#ria writes #bootleggers baby #dustin henderson #max mayfield #mike wheeler #stranger things #st #stranger things ficlet #st ficlet #tw: implied/referenced abuse #tw: referenced animal death

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dameronology · 1 year

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hey jazz, i hope you have so much fun on your trip! 🫶 can i request headcanons for poe dameron x reader inspired by the song sweet nothing by taylor swift? i’ve been crying over him & this song for 2 days 🥲

ok so like i interpreted this song as finding stability in someone when times are fucking insane so i hope this is ok :') love u

the resistance isn't always the calmest place to be

actually it's probably about as relaxing as being part of a fucking doomsday group

because everyone is aware of just how shit everything is and not only are they are aware but it's all of your jobs to go on missions just to find information to prove that everything is shit

not great!! not the best vibes!!

so it's the last place you'd expect to fall in love

but the second you meet poe, he's like a ray of sunshine amongst a cloudy day; with his bright smile and warm hugs and unwavering hope for the galaxy, he's exactly the kind of person you need

and poe is aware of that - he knows that he's sort of your anchor when you feel like you're drowning and tbh he finds purpose in making sure you're okay

your routines and lives intertwine so easily but he makes sure to just always be there

when you wake up, when you come home after a long day, when you return home from a mission

and poe expects nothing in return; obviously you offer him a similar comfort but he doesn't get mad if you can't

tbh more than anything you letting him look after you is enough

acts of service are definitely his love language in this scenario

cooking dinner for you; making sure your house is a nice place to come home to; listening when you need to vent; carry you to bed when you fall asleep on the sofa; that kinda thing. silly little domestic things that aren't nessecarily grand but mean the fucking world

poe just wants to look after you!! he wants to make you happy!!

and doing so makes him happy

#asks #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron imagines #poe dameron reader insert #poe dameron #poe dameron headcanons #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars imagines #star wars reader insert #star wars x you #poe dameron x you #star wars

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eluxcastar · 2 years

Text

Father figure Crowley.

(because we love that for him)

FEATURES: crowley eusford, (a little bit of) chess belle and horn skuld

CW: none though it is implied Ferid meant for them to die 💀

WC: 1.8k

NOTES: I haven't finished that other thing and last night literally on the verge of sleeping I was like "Papa Crowley though" and now we're here. I kinda like these ramble-esque things they're fun to write but I don't know what to call them (╥╯^╰╥)

Anyway here is child reader not knowing about the concept of grip socks for 1.8k words (it's ok they're too baby to know about grip socks) but I also don't remember the kids in Sanguinem wearing shoes 🤨 first of all--

you can barely fathom what exactly is going on, watching a fight over something fickle. You think it's fickle at least, Ferid pacing about the room as you see his hands moving but can't understand much of what comes out of his mouth, as they're bickering over something you bicker over as a child—the same kind of debate you have when someone likes different chocolate or different dinosaurs.

was that how you ended up on his doorstep?

your little hand knocks on the door, once then twice and then a few more times until it startles you and finally opens to the red-haired Vampire you say on the other side of the fight, and you barely give him a second of space between seeing a child at his doorstep and opening his mouth to ask what it's doing there.

"Lord Ferid sent me! He said it was a uh…show of good faith I think was what he said."

life there begins perhaps out of pity you had to walk yourself all the way to him, and things are different. It's not like the arrangement you made with Ferid, getting to sell your blood to him in exchange for things and occasionally fall asleep around his manor. Crowley Eusford didn't like to leave you out in the cold, and without a place to stay nearby, he houses you under his roof where you're taken care of.

you have yet to figure out what your part of the deal is, because Crowley says he doesn't like children's blood. Ferid was just playing a mean trick.

at first he didn't have much to say to you and liked to leave you with someone else, but over time he stopped avoiding it, avoiding you. He begins to interact with you more the more he sees you, and somehow you expected something…different.

you start to question that however as he's unusually benevolent. Ferid never pat your hair unless it was to shoo you away right after, but now it feels more like a way to soothe you. He has his two closest attendants take care of you sometimes, and both of them are fairly easy to get along with. They're the ones who snatch you up from your day and drop you in a warm bath before putting you to bed most nights.

there are many times that he does have free time and lets you loiter around him. Just because you're so young doesn't mean you haven't learned not to bother the Vampires, especially not the nobles.

you told him one day that it was strange, asking him why he doesn't want your blood. He doesn't like children's blood—his words not yours—but apparently not every Vampire likes every kind. That was…well it made some sense? It's not like you like every food you're given, even if you still eat it, but if you had to choose you'd definitely pick what you like.

your influx of returning energy was a breath of fresh air however, allowing you to run around and play to your heart's content. Chess likes to play with you, though she's somewhat reserved around Horn, you honestly thought she found you annoying until Crowley and Horn were out and she was arguably more excited about it than you were.

the days you like most are spent around Crowley Eusford, surprisingly. You think he's quite nice for a noble but he tends to brush you off saying Ferid is just weird. Your only basis was Ferid however, you'd never seen another until his visits started. You didn't exactly expect to be living with him either until Ferid proposed another deal for you.

"Ferid is eccentric, but I don't have any interest in your blood. You live here because it's rude to dump you back on his doorstep."

but you didn't fully believe that, especially not when those are the days he watches as you get sleepy and curl up on the floor, and you feel his hands at your sides come to pick you up and settle you in his arms as he carries you off to bed.

you feel safer there than you ever had even just wandering Ferid's manor to get the things you wanted. Being laid gently in your bed is something you're used to, nor was getting the blankets draped over you.

sometimes he stays and sometimes he has to work some more, sort some things out. He sits on the edge of your bed and talks to you for a while, but most of the time let's you hold his hand and nuzzle your cheek against it to get comfortable. It's the start of affection, it feels like a lot more attention than you're used to though. He's not used to over-coddling you just yet.

this is his attempt at becoming less detached from your life as it is now, and yet he can't say he's comfortable laying by your side to let you cuddle up to him yet. This is just a way of letting you both get comfortable with the idea, ease you into this. You were so young at the time of the apocalypse you hadn't had parents to do things like this in a long time, so it was a foreign sentiment to you too.

you can't deny you enjoy this though, especially when he lets you sit on his lap while he works so you can see what he's doing, play with some object you found and distract yourself while he asks questions about how well Chess and Horn are treating you. He's glad that you like them, even if you think Horn likes to ruin some of your fun, but you're good at quieting down and keeping to yourself when she shushes you.

none of them are all that good at cooking, the one time Horn and Chess tried they almost burned the house down until you assured them you'd make food yourself if they could get ingredients for you. You ended up making a curry that you kept stored for a few days and ate it slowly with rice.

it's easy to sit your lunch on Crowley's desk while you sit in his lap, or on the floor next to him with a book. He's often receptive to your attempts at talking, just not when other people are around unless it's important.

like Ferid, for example, who is surprised to see you alive when he visits for the first time in months. If not the chaos of keeping you fed, it seemed to be keeping Crowley fed that was his problem. You had yet to even realise that was the reason Ferid was suspiciously nice to you before asking you to go. You'd never feel safe if he took you back, you knew as much.

it's the first time since you came here to live with him that he lets you hug him, it's the moment Ferid is out of sight, and you were scared by the idea that even through all of your negotiating you somehow managed to end up here. You run to him and hold onto his leg so tightly he picks you up by pure obligation, but it's a rare occurrence. You're used to him awkwardly shuffling away and laughing it off, but he lets you.

it's also the first time he lets you fall asleep in his lap later that day without immediately waking you up to walk you to bed. You're not sure when he finally put you to bed, just that you barely remember him stroking your forehead after he'd tucked you in before you fall back to sleep.

he's finally starting to see you as a little child who has no one, and you have a feeling that you're not the first one of those he's seen. He knows how to respond eventually, just not at first when all he knows about you is that you used to live somewhere near where Ferid operates his library.

Crowley is better at not just dumping you on Chess and Horn now, though you still play around with Chess and inevitably end up in some kind of trouble with Horn, but now? Now you can go running off to Crowley, your 'I'm going to tell Mom' of sorts, and he usually just laughs knowing you likely deserve it.

for a long time you wore your uniform as you always had, but it seemed you were soon to change that out for plain clothes. You hardly go out as it is, so it's not as if you really needed it. It isn't like he's dressing you up either, it's just that you look less like livestock if you don't dress that way. Harder to be mistaken for livestock if you don't dress like livestock as you remember he put it. You've never seen yourself in anything else, it's so surreal to look at. Is this what people used to feel like?

you're not used to running around with socks on, he can't get you to even keep your shoes on for more than a few minutes before you pull them off again. You aren't ready for the consequences of socks on smooth floors either, almost slipping over until he catches you to keep you steady once you realise you should slow down.

it feels weird to crawling into bed in these clothes too, a different feeling to it like the clothes are made out of something different, and it turns out you need another set of clothes specifically to sleep in. Half the time you end up falling asleep without even bothering to change. It's kind of silly to see but as long as you're comfortable enough he's decided it's not the end of the world.

it's getting your blood drawn that's still a problem, having to walk you there all the time just to carry you back because you feel sick and dizzy afterwards. He's working to get you out of that, but it's taking time. It's just a little painful to see you so drowsy and disoriented, and you always reach for him and mumble to be picked up because you're used to him carrying you back home.

he usually just puts you to sleep, since you say you're tired afterwards, sometimes fall asleep on the way. You assume you're very easy to carry, only needing one arm under you and your arms around his neck.

you're barely surprised at this point by how much Ferid will tease him for 'keeping you' like you're some kind of dog, especially now that he's seen you in plain clothes and running about playing, a semi-normal life and environment. Ferid doesn't scare you as much however, and you don't go running off for Crowley's help when he's gone.

that's not to say you don't need him, he very much still takes care of you, but something about living this way isn't so strange anymore.

#✦ — scenarios.#✦ — fluff.#Papa Crowley was the first thing I ever posted #actually that was Uncle Crowley #but now we have Papa Crowley to go with it #owari no seraph manga #owari no seraph #seraph of the end #ons #sote #crowley #crowley eusford #crowley x reader #crowley eusford x reader #chess #chess belle #horn #horn skuld

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a-moth-to-the-light · 17 days

Text

Giving Itzy An Album

[my top ten itzy songs]

Okay so, I've been wanting to do this for forever! I'm a really big fan of Itzy, and, like every fan of Itzy, I see SO much unused potential in their music. The members have this ridiculously attention-grabbing presence on their songs, and I just think they would be fantastic rock stars!! (I was there when "Nobody Like You" dropped, and I'll never forget it.) So, through this post, I'll be making my Itzy-rock vision a (sort of) reality.

Album Title: kiss & cry

Concept: Your dad's hazy memories of the 70s. Brightly colored, heavily romanticized, aggressively chill, a tad bit psychedelic!

1. Round & Round -- iiso

I mean, this is a kpop album! So I wanted the album intro to be something that's trippy in a house-music kind of way, on-trend but still blending well with my carefree, psychedelic-rock-inspired vision for this album.

2. WORLDEND -- negoto (TITLE TRACK A)

When I say Itzy are rock stars in my heart, I mean this. I love the members' vocal tones, but so many of their releases don't seem to have any idea at all about what suits them. Negoto, though, has vocals that I find beautiful in the same way I do Itzy's--they're unusual, fascinating, and they bring SO much energy to the table. And that's why I've been dreaming of hearing Itzy on this song for three years now! With a melody like this, already designed to bring the best out of a whiny vocal style, I think Itzy would sound absolutely wonderful. This song is very pop-leaning, and there's just SOOO much energy in that chorus--Itzy deserves a song like this, 100%.

3. Scarlet Begonias - Live at Barton Hall, Cornell... -- The Grateful Dead (PRE-RELEASE)

Yes, I'm going to leave this song exactly as it is, except for adding Itzy's voices to it. Yes, there will be a two-minute sample at the beginning, consisting of The Grateful Dead asking the audience to please take some steps back. (It fills me with joy every single time I listen to this song. You can't make me get rid of it.) Yes, it will be 11 minutes long. (Look, after a release as boilerplate as "Cake", I reserve the right to make this one a little weird! I don't even mind "Cake" as much as most people seem to, but let me have my thing.) With its cheery melodies and humorous youthfulness, I think "Scarlet Begonias" fits Itzy better than you'd expect!

4. Ah Yeah -- Hyolyn

I don't know, this one just felt right! It's light and fluffy and a little strange--that weird distorted instrumental is so Itzy to me! I also love the way rapping & singing kind of overlap, running into each other, in the prechorus. I think the members could really show off their skills in this one! I actually think its vibe fits quite well alongside "Scarlet Begonias", too, despite all the genre (and era) differences!

5. shinkaigyo -- The Back Horn (PROMOTED B-SIDE)

"Ringo" but better. Though a lot of the other songs on this album aren't super dance-y, a choreography to "shinkaigyo" would be KILLER. So much intensity, and that BASSLINE??? I love that this track brings Itzy weirdness to rock, and it also has this really satisfying chorus that, I dare say, we all loved so much about early Itzy tracks like "Wannabe".

6. Love Spell -- GFRIEND (TITLE TRACK B)

Itzy's music tends to lean into these cool-girl personas, with lots of attitude & ad-libs, but I've strayed away for it from most of this album--"Love Spell", though, has that classic Itzy attitude, with some great rock influences, too! (guitar go grrrrrrrr it brings me so much joy)

7. I Know I'm Not Wrong -- Fleetwood Mac

A little silly, a little angsty, with absolutely incessant energy in its instrumental--I can see Itzy having SOOO much fun with this!

8. BEEP BEEP -- Ruann

What's a psychedelic-rock inspired album without some gorgeous tropical house to zone out to? Okay, yeah, this album would probably be fine without it. But like, it fits too well? And after "Bratty", I need more cutesy music from them!

9. Chill -- Chung Ha

Itzy's vocal power that really draws me to them, and I think "Chill" is a perfect song to center that. It's straightforward, with melody lines that are blunt & heavy-hitting--I think it could be pretty easily rearranged into a ballad/soft song that would bring out the best in the Itzy members' vocals.

10. joyrider -- second thoughts

Peak Itzy + guitar agenda--this song is just so much fun?? It's not really a happy song, but it feels just as euphoric as classic Itzy hype tracks are, and I think their vocals have the perfect energy to carry a half-angsty, half-humorous chorus like this one.

11. Stop Making This Hurt -- Bleachers

This track is literally made for screaming karaoke on the highway, and I know Itzy have the energy to do it justice & make it our comfort song of the year.

#I DID ITTTTTTTTTTTT #this project has been SO long in the works lol #itzy #i made a album

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anghraine · 1 year

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So I talked a few days ago about having Elrond feelings that are so dependent on various tangential headcanons that it would take a bunch of paragraphs to explain them.

Well. Here they are.

I also made a post awhile ago about my headcanon that Third Age Dúnedain—both of the North and of Gondor—have some moderately magical items (by our standards) just floating around.

Some were originally received from Elves, while some were crafted by the Dúnedain themselves for some often forgotten purpose or another, like Merry's enchanted dagger (but usually on a lesser scale). Some have origins lost to time. The last is pretty common, I imagine, especially with older things; Númenórean families haven't always passed down information about where their stuff originally came from or what exactly it's supposed to do, beyond obvious things like "glows in the dark a bit" or such.

For me, of course, all Dúnadan headcanons lead back to the Stewards (truly the Rome of headcanons!). Part of the reason I got to thinking about it is that the Stewards' sigil has three stars in it, which could signify anything, but in Tolkien, jewels are often described as stars and signified by stars. So I got to thinking about what kind of jewels might be represented by these stars.

Three star-like jewels immediately reminded me of the Silmarils, of course, but it's hard to see a particular association with all three. But it got me supposing that maybe the most ancient heirlooms of their house are three jewels, but on a vastly smaller scale than the actual Silmarils—they're not sanctified or lusted after or anything, just very beautiful and they do something cool in a small way and have been in the family a long time.

A really, really long time.

Way back when, this idea was percolating in my head along with a different headcanon. Tolkien's description of the House of the Stewards as descendants of a Faithful family and also of royal origin inclined me to think that they were descendants of Elros way back on Númenor, but must have split off from the royal family very early (given the seniority of the Lords of Andúnië). My headcanon ended up being that they were descendants of the house established by Princess Tindómiel, daughter of Elros, mostly because I have Tindómiel feelings out of all proportion to what we know or even can guess about her.

So then I thought, what if the jewels were Tindómiel's? The Stewards themselves wouldn't even know this. They know quite a few things about their ancestors in Númenor, including that they were Faithful descended from Elros, and the names of some of the people in the family trees and such, but it was really their later intermarriage with the house of Anárion and their own actions that made them so powerful in Gondor. There are family legends about Tindómiel founding their ancestral home, and that they've got heirlooms from her, but they honestly don't know and they tend to focus on things they're much more sure about.

And then—well, if you've followed for awhile, you know that my Tindómiel feelings are also Elrond feelings. This is because his daughter Arwen's alternate name (I assume father-name) 'Undómiel' directly parallels his niece's name Tindómiel, even though Tindómiel would have been dead for over 3000 years by the time Arwen was born. I can only think that he loved his niece very much and was close to her for the 400-odd years she would have lived.

So then I thought, okay, what if Elrond was the one who gave them to her? Maybe she was little at the time and he wanted something special for her, but not dangerous. Then I had this whole idea about him effectively commissioning the gift from freaking Celebrimbor, and Celebrimbor considering it a fun sort of challenge to craft something impressive enough for a princess but also subtle enough to avoid trouble, and avoid offending Elrond and Elros, who understandably are sensitive about that kind of trouble.

He did a spectacular job, as you'd expect, and Tindómiel treasured the gems (which I imagine were set in something at the time, perhaps a diadem, though they were removed for preservation later). She loved them partly for their own sake and partly because she was touched by the amount of thought and care that went into the present from Elrond, whom she loved dearly. But the whole origin story of Tindómiel's jewels coming from Elrond had been forgotten long before the rise of the Stewardship. There's just some ephemeral myth that they were hers or maybe one of her nieces', that sort of thing.

But the family does regard them in a rather superstitious way—not thinking that they actually give luck or anything like that, but it does seem remarkable that the family has managed to hang onto them all this time and the family itself has also managed to survive all this time. The gems might be old substitutes, of course, but there's no evidence of that, and the more Númenórean ones are pretty sure not, actually.

So they're quite careful with them at this point. Although they've been repurposed and worn in different ways over the years, now they're kept safely put away most of the time. Elrond wouldn't have seen the jewels for thousands of years by the point that he comes to Gondor and sees them hanging from the neck of ... Éowyn of Rohan, the maiden who slew the Witch-king.

That's the part I hadn't considered before. Men certainly do wear jewels in Tolkien and Faramir could wear them or carry them in some other fashion. But there is no louder way to say that he does not give a fuck what anyone says about Éowyn's lineage than to give her the ancient, mystical heirlooms of his house, from Númenor, so ancient and so shrouded in mystery that even Denethor didn't know their origin.

We might assume that Éowyn doesn't care about such things or would see it as insignificant, but I ... don't think so. She spent a lot of time being sidelined and feeling humiliated and it's clear she knows perfectly well that Gondorian Dúnedain may look down on her. I don't think she'd cry into her sleeves over wearing royal jewelry, lol.

In any case, I think Elrond simply had too many great-nephews and -nieces to keep up with every branch of Elros's family on Númenor, much less after the Downfall. And I'm not sure he even knows the House of the Stewards are among his nephews and nieces in canon, much less (in the headcanon) that they're the remnants of Tindómiel's house. So seeing those jewels again, created by the hand of Celebrimbor, for Tindómiel, now given by Tindómiel's heir to a maiden of the Rohirrim who avenged the destruction of Arthedain—it's a moment.

#anghraine babbles #anghraine's headcanon #legendarium blogging #húrinionath #i cannot in good faith tag this with any other canon tags #long post

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drabbles-mc · 2 years

Text

Packed Up

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Inspired by Day 20 of the August Prompts: parasol

Warnings: talks of grief/death

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: This was another prompt that I struggled with and had no idea what to do for it. But when I got hit with this idea, I just ran with it. Hopefully it turned out okay.

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"Thanks for doing this, by the way," you said as you folded up yet another blouse and packed it up into a box that was almost full at this point.

Nestor shook his head, "It's fine," he grabbed another armful of hangers from the closet, a rainbow of clothes draped over his arm as he walked over to the bed where you were sitting.

You weren't expecting any company today, let alone Nestor's. When you had told him your plans a few days prior, you hadn't asked for help– you just told him because he asked what your Saturday looked like. So, you told him, because you told Nestor pretty much everything these days. Packing up your late grandmother’s house wasn't exactly a fun bonding activity for a pair of friends, but he'd immediately offered to help. It didn't hit you until that moment, but you realized that despite your years of friendship, you and Nestor had never met each other's families. You knew that Nestor wasn't close with his family, but how he had never gotten roped into holidays or other gatherings with you and yours was a mystery to you. Things with your family were far from perfect, but looking back he could've been a good lifeline.

And yet, he still showed up to your house first thing in the morning, coffee in hand, to pick you up and drive you to her house so he could help you out. You weren't going to turn away the helping hands, even if you felt a little bad accepting the help.

He'd asked you what the game plan was when the two of you got there, and you'd laughed as you told him quite honestly that you didn't have one. Pack things up until you ran out of boxes and bags, see what kind of time you still had, and either get more boxes and come back, or get more boxes and come back again tomorrow. Taking care of this was going to be a one-man show. Two, now that Nestor was helping you.

He spoke as he started taking clothes off the hangers, attempting to mirror the way that you were folding items, "Your parents coming to take care of any of this stuff?"

You sighed, shaking your head, "No. They really weren't…on the best terms. By the time we were grown up, it was really just my sister and I who were close with her. And, well…" your voice trailed off.

He nodded, expression neutral, "Right."

Nothing else had to be said– if anyone knew what it was like, it was him. For as much as you didn't talk about it, Nestor talked about it even less. Maybe it was because you both knew. What more was there to say?

"She was funny, though," you said with a wistful smile as Nestor handed you another shirt to fold, "My grandma, I mean."

He gave you a tiny smile, "Yea? That why you're such a comedian?"

You laughed, balling up a shirt and whipping it at him, "Shut up. I'm hysterical."

He chuckled, proceeding to fold up the shirt you'd just thrown back at him, "You are."

The two of you fell back into comfortable silence as you went back to folding clothes. You expected your chest to feel heavy like it had before, but you had to remind yourself that the circumstances were completely different. This was expected. This made sense. It was sad, of course, but it was also the right time, unlike the last loss you'd experienced. You reminded yourself of that each time you felt guilty for not being debilitated with grief as you packed away your grandmother’s surprisingly expansive wardrobe.

Once you got through the stack of clothes that Nestor had grabbed, you hopped off the bed and went to the closet. You went as far back into it as you could, looking for things that hadn't seen the light of day in a long, long time. She'd lived in the same house since way before you were born, so you knew there had to be some lost, buried treasures somewhere.

Nestor heard you rustling around and gave you a minute, waiting to see if you were just grabbing more things to bring out. When another minute ticked by and you still hadn't resurfaced, he started making his way over to see what exactly it was that you were getting into.

He didn't even make it to the doorway of the closet when you came striding out, a menagerie of items in your arms, as well as shoes on your feet thay definitely weren't the ones you worn to the house that day. The hat you'd found and put on nearly fell off as you dropped all the belongings onto the mattress.

You laughed as you walked over to the full-length mirror in the room, taking a look at the boots that you'd found. They really didn't look bad, and you desperately wished you'd known your grandmother at the time in her life when she would've been wearing them all the time. Or any of the items that you dug out, really. Knowing her when she was your age or a little younger would've been such a trip.

Turning back to Nestor, you gestured to yourself from top to bottom, "So, what do you think?"

The smile on his face was small, but genuine, "I think the boots clash with the umbrella."

You laughed as you popped it open, the fine, white lace still fully intact and beautiful even after so much time, "It's a parasol, Nestor."

He held his hands up in mock surrender, a hint of a smirk on his face, "Sorry. Guess I need to study a little harder."

You chuckled as you twirled it around, shaking your head at yourself as much as at him. The process of packing up the house almost felt like cleaning your room as a kid. You start off with the best of intentions and get extremely sidetracked along the way by all of the things that you find. You didn't mind it taking a little longer though. If anything, it brought you a sense of peace.

Nestor listened intently to every story as he continued to sort and pack. Even if he wasn't looking at you, hands busy with the task at hand, you knew that he was paying attention. You apologized a couple times for how much you were rambling and talking– Nestor had always been one to work in semi-silence at least. But each time he reassured you that he didn't mind.

He didn't know how to say it, but it was refreshing to listen to someone talk about their family with so much love. Things with his family weren't easy, and you knew that about as well as anyone else in his life. So he never talked about them. Never really talked about his brother, either, the one person that he was actually close to. You'd vented about your family frustrations to him countless times over the years, but even so he could feel the love underneath it all. He wondered what that was like– to stay connected like that despite the frustrations. His family just wasn't built for it. Or maybe it was him.

"I think," you spoke up, seeing the look on his face that told you he was getting swept up in his thoughts, "I definitely underestimated how many boxes and bags this entire job is going to take," you laughed lightly.

He chuckled, coming back to the present with you, "I wasn't gonna say it, but yea, you've got a lot to pack up here."

You dragged your hands down your face, "It's gonna be a long few weekends."

"Yea, but," he nodded towards your shoes, "think of all the boots you're going to have by the time you're done."

You laughed, "That's true," you paused as you watched him toss a few more things into a bag, "Thank you."

He looked at you, eyebrows raised, "Hm?"

"Thank you. For helping. I, I really appreciate it."

"Yea. No problem," he shrugged, "'s what family is supposed to be for, right?"

You smiled, nodding as he went right back to the task at hand, "Right."

#mayans mc imagine #mayans fx #mayansmc #mayans mc #nestor oceteva imagine #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva x reader #august prompts #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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