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morbific-or-felicific · 8 months

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-WATASHIATO Featuring Kazuha

Meaning: Curiosity about the impact you’ve had on the lives of the people you know

Word Count: 5.1k~

Description: You unfortunately catch the eye of a certain boy you used to avoid in high school

Content Warning: dubcon, shitty awful men, sex while heavily intoxicated, cream pie, manipulation

Authors Note: I wrote this to help process an experience that I had so please don’t come at me for glamourizing assault or anything like that

Edited By: @pretty-princess-peach

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You had always avoided Kazuha in high school. He always smelled of weed, and you didn’t want to risk your parents thinking that you were smoking or that you were hanging around those kinds of kids. Although, part of you had always wanted to talk to him. He seemed easygoing and funny, he almost always had a smile on his face, and he was absolutely gorgeous. However, you didn’t want to risk being associated with him or his friends. They were doing drugs, after all, so they couldn’t be good kids. So you stuck with your safe friends, even if you were curious about Kazuha and his friends.

~ ♡ ~

You had graduated high school several months ago now, and you were living in residence at your university, away from your protective parents. So far, your first year of school had been fairly uneventful. While your dorm mates went to parties and slept around, you were doing your homework and staying in.

It was a little past the middle of the second semester now, and you had been growing more and more curious about your friends' lifestyles. What was it like to get drunk? What did it feel like to be high? What was sex like?

But your curious musings would have to wait, since you were almost late for class.

You finished grabbing your stuff and ran out the door, sprinting across campus to the building that your class was held in. You happened to make it just in time and took a seat next to the only friend you had managed to make while at university, Xinyan. She was a bit wild sometimes, but she never pressured you to be anything like her. She also happened to be friends with a certain white haired boy that you went to high school with, one who was currently sitting only a table away from you. However, you were still too scared to talk to him.

You had spotted Kazuha around campus a few times and had run into him once, literally. You had been turning a corner in a hurry, and you had slammed right into him. He had helped you up and apologized, even though he clearly wasn’t at fault. When you did get up and you were able to take in who you had bumped into, you were embarrassed to discover it was Kazuha. He looked like he always had, just older now and still just as pretty. He smelled the same too. You had gotten nervous and left in a hurry, but the interaction had stuck in your head ever since it had happened. I guess you were still interested in him...

You tried to focus on the class, but you were having trouble. There were still questions circulating around your head, and you were talking to Xinyan about them.

“I don’t know, I just feel like there’s so much I haven’t experienced, and I think I might be curious to try some things.”

“So would you want me to take you to a party or something? Wanna try drinking or smoking?”

“I… I don’t think I really want to do any of that.”

“Are you sure? You just afraid?”

“Maybe, I just don’t know if I would be comfy doing that stuff. It’s really bad for you, you know.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Eating oreos is bad for you, but does that stop anyone?”

“I think alcohol and oreos are a little bit different.”

“Pfft, nah. You’re crazy.”

The two of you laughed at that and turned your attention back to the lecture.

Kazuha's however was focused on what he’d just heard. You’d never drunk or done any drugs. You were completely pure. That makes sense though, considering how you had avoided him and anyone remotely like him like the plague in high school. He was sure you were a virgin too. He had never heard about you dating anyone, and given how protective your parents seemed, he was sure you hadn’t been allowed to, or something like that. It was really fascinating to him that you hadn’t rebelled at all. You had been away from your parents for almost a whole school year, and you were still doing everything they had told you to. He wondered if he could be the one to corrupt you, to taint your innocence. After all, he had been fascinated by you since high school.

The class ended, and everyone got up to leave. However, before you and Xinyan could go anywhere, you were stopped by Kazuha.

“Hey, you two.”

“Hey Kazuha, did you need something?”

“I just wanted to invite the two of you to a little party Tomo and I are having tonight.”

“Yeah, sure. That sounds fun. I don’t think this one is gonna come though.”

“Aw, why not?”

He was pouting slightly, making you feel kind of guilty for wanting to decline the invitation.

“I just don’t really do parties. I’m sorry.”

He laughed lightly.

“It’ll barely be a party, just a few people and some drinks.”

“I don’t know… I don't think it’s a good idea.”

“But-”

“She said she doesn’t want to go, okay?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound pushy. Of course that’s fine.”

The gentle way he smiled and the way his eyes slightly crinkled made you believe him without a doubt. Of course he would never want to push you to do anything. Maybe it would be a good idea to have your first party be small and with someone safe like him…

“Actually, I think I’ll go.”

Xinyan raised her eyebrows at you.

“You know you don’t have to, right?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just that… he’s right. If it’s barely going to be a party, then why shouldn’t I go?”

Xinyan looked concerned, but she relaxed her face.

“If you’re sure…”

“Wonderful! It’ll be Friday at my place for 9:00.”

“Pm?!”

They both turned to you smiling. God, Kazuha loved how fucking innocent you were.

“What time did you think it would start?”

“Uh, I don’t know… maybe 4 or 5?”

They both stifled their laughs.

“Then I guess I’ll see you both there.”

Kazuha walked out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

“You know, you don’t have to come.”

“I know, but I want to go to a party eventually, and this seems like a good time to try.”

“Yeah, but-”

“You’ll take me with you on Friday right?”

“Yeah, okay.”

If you were going, then she would definitely be there for you from the time you headed over until the time you got home, even if it was supposed to be a little party.

~ ♡ ~

“So you’re up for it?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

When Kazuha had gotten home, the first thing that he had done was ask his roommate if he was down to throw a little party so he could fuck a girl he had been interested in since high school. Luckily for Kazuha, Tomo was all for it.

“We haven’t done anything here for a while. That sounds fun.”

“Thanks. I owe you.”

“What’s she like anyway?”

Kazuha smiled thinking about you and how pure you were and how he was going to completely corrupt you.

“She’s very… good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah, she’s never drunk or smoked weed or even gone to a party.”

“Does that mean that she’s a virgin too?”

“I think so. It would make sense.”

“Fuck, that’s kinda hot. How’d you manage to get her to agree to come to the party?”

“I think she just trusts me. She only has one friend, and she’s friends with me, well, mostly friends.”

“Who?”

“Xinyan.”

Tomo threw his head back laughing.

“You know that girl does not trust you with the shit you’ve pulled with her friends.”

“I’ve been slowly winning her over.”

“Yeah, sure. You think she’s still gonna trust you when you ditch her good little friend?”

“I think I might actually stay with this one, at least for a little while.”

“Oooh, Kazuha’s in love~.”

“Well, I have to get her out of it enough to let me fuck her first, so I’ll let you know how that goes.”

“Godspeed man.”

Kazuha chucked and pulled out his phone, inviting some people to the party he was now planning for you.

~ ♡ ~

It was finally Friday, and you were running around your dorm getting ready for the impending party. It was 8:55pm, and Xinyan was going to be there in 5 minutes to pick you up. Apparently she normally arrived at parties later than they were set for to make sure people were there, but she gave in and agreed to head over at 9:00pm since you felt bad.

When you had mentioned to your roommates that you had been invited to a party, surprisingly enough, they all got really excited and helped you figure out what to wear. Apparently you were supposed to wear a pretty little dress and little heels as well. They had tried to take you shopping and they had found a little black dress they said was perfect, but they couldn’t quite convince you to wear it. It was too short and too low cut, and you just couldn’t feel comfortable in it. Eventually, they had agreed to figure something out with what you already had, and you had ended up in a white dress with little pink flowers that fell just above your knees as well as little flats. You had originally wanted to wear a little cardigan over it, but they had talked you out of it. It was going to be a warm spring evening, after all.

You were trying to smooth out a pesky strand of hair when you heard Xinyan knock on your door. You ran to open it for her, and she followed you around while you finished getting ready.

“So, are you excited?”

“I think I’m more nervous, but yeah, at least a little excited.”

“You know, you can still back out. You don’t have to go.”

“No, I already said I would go. I’m going.”

“Okay, fine. Are you planning on drinking or anything?”

“No, definitely not. I don’t want to do that.”

“I’ll assume that means you don’t plan on doing anything else either then?”

“I don’t. I just want to see what parties are like, okay?”

“Okay, let’s go then.”

The two of you headed out and hopped in the cab Xinyan had called.

The two of you arrived at Kazuha and Tomo’s apartment at about 9:20, since you had left a little late. You knocked on the door, and it opened to reveal Kazuha, who smelled even more like weed than when you last saw him, although you suppose it could just be the apartment.

“You two look lovely. Come on in.”

The compliment made you blush slightly. You never got compliments from guys, so who could blame you? Kazuha led the two of you into the living room where most of the people were gathered. There was music playing at a low volume flowing throughout the party. You could see smoke flowing from people’s mouths while others were sipping drinks.

“Almost everyone’s here now, so you don’t have to worry about the crowd getting much bigger.”

The two of you were about to sit down when Xinyan’s phone rang.

“Hello? I’m at a party, why? Oh shit. I’ll be right there.”

“Is everything okay?”

“No, one of my friends just had her boyfriend break up with her. I’m so sorry, I have to go. Do you want me to take you home? We can just go to a party another night.”

Kazuha leaned into you and put a hand around your shoulders.

“Don’t worry about her. I can babysit her for you.”

“Are you sure? It really is no trouble for me to take her home.”

“She wants to stay though, right?”

He looked at you with expectant eyes, and you found yourself agreeing with him.

“Yeah, I do. I can just stay with Kazuha. Don’t worry.”

Xinyan looked hesitant to leave you with him, but just then, her phone dinged again, another message from her friend.

“Okay, but if you need me, call me, okay? I’ll come get you as soon as I can.”

“She’ll be alright, don't worry. Don’t you trust me?”

The two of them stared at each other for a moment or two before Xinyan answered him.

“Just keep her out of trouble, and don’t let her drink or smoke or anything.”

“Mhm.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but her phone began to ring again. She took it and began to step away. As Xinyan left, Kazuha removed his arm from your shoulders and sat down in one of the two open spots on the couch. He patted the cushion next to him, and naturally, you sat down.

“You look beautiful tonight, love.”

“Oh, uh, thank you.” You looked at the ground. “You look nice too.”

He smiled at you. Kazuha honestly couldn’t believe his luck. He had been trying to figure out how he was going to get you away from Xinyan, but it looks like the universe was on his side tonight.

“So uh, what am I supposed to do?”

His smile widened. Oh, there were so many things you could do for him.

“Well, you’re supposed to talk, drink, smoke, and just feel good.”

“Oh, well I’m not going to smoke or drink at all.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s bad for you, and I just don’t understand why people would put that stuff in their bodies.”

Kazuha laughed lightly at what you had said.

“Your parents must be happy to know you’re doing everything they say, even when they aren’t around. It’s sweet. It’s like you’re a little kid.”

What? You aren’t a little kid. You're an adult now, right? Were you really still just doing what your parents wanted? Was it so bad if you were? He certainly made it feel bad…

A joint and a lighter appeared in Kazuha’s hand while you were tied up in your own thoughts, and just like that, he was smoking. You really didn’t like the smell, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel like you had something to prove. You aren’t a little kid who just does what her parents tell her, but did you really want to put that stuff in your body…?

Kazuha took a hit before turning his head to face you and blowing the smoke in your face. Your face scrunched up at the smell, and he laughed at your reaction.

“Sorry, I’m sure your parents don’t want you smelling like smoke either.”

That was it. You didn’t care if it was bad. You were going to try it and prove that you were as grown up as everyone else here.

“Do you think I could maybe try it…?”

Kazuha pouted at you.

“But I thought you didn’t want to smoke?”

“Uh well, I mean, if I just do it once, it’s not that bad, right?”

His pout morphed into a smile.

“Why don’t you try drinking a little first, mkay?”

“But isn’t it bad to drink and smoke?”

“No, not at all.”

“Are you sure…?”

“Come on. I wouldn’t lie to you, would I?”

“No, I’m sorry. But I don’t know if I should drink…”

“Don’t worry about it, baby. Come on, let’s go get you a drink.”

You blushed at the name and followed behind him as he stood up and led you to the kitchen. He reached into the fridge and pulled out some fruity cooler that looked like it was supposed to be strawberry flavoured. Kazuha handed you the drink and led you back to the couch.

The two of you talked while you sipped your drink and kazuha smoked. By the time you were done with your first one, you felt kind of fuzzy and a little bit out of it, but Kazuha was quick to put another drink in your hand.

You two kept talking and catching up until you had once again finished your drink. You liked how the drinks tasted. There was a slightly odd taste to them, but you didn’t mind it. You felt relaxed and kinda funny. Kazuha was making you feel quite comfortable, so when he told you to come straddle his lap, you almost did it without question.

“But… I’m wearing a dress I can’t.”

“I thought you wanted to smoke, love? Or are you just going to keep listening to your parents?”

He pouted as he waited for an answer.

“I guess I do, but do I have to sit in your lap?”

“Of course you do. Why would I lie to you?”

You considered his words and decided that he was right. You trusted him, so you stood up and sat back down, straddling his lap. You could feel your dress get pushed up your thighs as you got comfortable, and you tried your best to ignore it. Kazuha rested a hand on your hip and brought the joint to your mouth. You closed your lips around it and inhaled the smoke. Kazuha pulled it away after a moment so you could exhale, and as you did you started coughing. You really were not used to having smoke in your lungs. Kazuha had noticed the little bit of your lip gloss that had gotten on the joint, and he couldn’t help but imagine how your lipgloss would look smudged on his cock.

You stayed there until the two of you had finished the joint, although you had practically finished it on your own. When you were done, he gave you another drink, and naturally, you began to drink it. You felt so out of it. Your thoughts were moving so slowly that you could barely form a sentence, so when he told you he needed to take you to his room for something, your thoughts weren’t moving fast enough to understand that something was wrong. He pulled you through the apartment by your hand, and you followed him like a lost puppy, still sipping the drink he had handed you. Eventually, the two of you crossed the threshold into his room, and he closed the door behind you. Kazuha took the can from your hand and placed it on some surface in the room.

“Get on the bed.”

You didn’t think much of the order and just did what you were told, wanting to make him happy and frankly being tired of standing. The bed was firm, almost surprisingly so, and you sat on the edge, not sure what would happen next. Kazuha pushed your chest down so you were laying on your back. You stared up at the ceiling as you heard the sound of clothes coming off. You felt your legs get lifted and your body was spun so you were laying properly on the bed. Kazuha climbed on top of you and stared down at you. You looked so perfect to him. Your hair was spread out on the bed, and you stared up at him with complete trust. He leaned in and started kissing you, and surprisingly, you really didn’t mind it. His lips were warm and inviting, and in your state, you didn’t stop to think that you might not be doing this sober. He continued to kiss you as he started to slide a hand up your side, slowly traveling to cup your breast. As he touched you, he realized that you weren’t wearing a bra under your dress, how (titular…hehe) convenient.

He pulled away from you so he could watch your face as he thumbed at your nipples over your dress. Although you were sluggish and couldn’t really form words, you let out a little whine, and shifted around a bit. Kazuha leaned down and licked the fabric over your nipples, eliciting a little gasp from you. He continued playing with your tits until he got bored and tried to start sliding your dress off of you. You felt his hands start to slide up your thighs, moving your dress along with them. Of course, you noticed this, and you moved your hands to try and stop him. You whined something incomprehensible and batted at his hands, trying to wiggle the skirt of your dress back down. You didn’t like how cold the air was… . Of course, Kazuha’s hands didn’t stop. He was much stronger than you, and really, it wasn’t hard to ignore your weak attempts at fighting him.

“Shhhh shhhh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

His reassurance was enough to make you give up on your fight as he slid your dress up and off of your body. Your body felt heavy, and it was a lot easier to listen to him than it was to try and stop him, even if it was cold… . With your dress now off, Kazuha drank you in. You were so pretty, your little hands trying to cover your boobs, and your cute little pink cotton panties that had a little pink bow on the band. Kazuha let a hand wander between your thighs. He pressed down where he thought your clit would be and started making little circles, causing you to start squirming. You used all of your remaining strength to lift your arms, trying to pull at his wrist and make the weird feeling go away. You mumbled something as you tried to pull at his hand to no avail.

“No, no, baby. You’re alright.”

You tried to protest, but it only came out as a mumble, which was easily ignored. Kazuha grabbed your wrists in one hand and pushed them into the bed, holding them above your head. He started pulling at the waistband of your panties until they slid past your ankles. You tried to roll over to feel less exposed, but once again you were stopped, this time by a hand on your stomach.

“No, princess. You’re not going anywhere, okay?”

You mumbled something again, but it was ignored, again. Kazuha pushed your knees up to your shoulders and leaned his head down between your legs. He might as well show you everything if he was going to be your first. He flattened his tongue against your pussy and licked a stripe up it, causing a whine to make its way out of your mouth. Fuck, you tasted so good. He closed his lips around your clit and sucked, reveling in the satisfaction that he was the first person to make you feel this way. After a little while, your whines were no longer enough to keep him entertained, and he pushed his fingers into your mouth, pushing them back and forth until he was satisfied. His fingers now wet, he pushed them inside of you, and when he heard you whine out, “Too big…hurts,” he couldn’t help the groan that pushed its way out of his throat. If you thought that his fingers were big, he couldn’t wait to see how you would react to his cock splitting you open.

Kazuha pushed a third finger into you and was met with more whining from you.

“Shhh, shhhh, my love. I already told you, it’s okay.”

He did his best to stretch you out so that you would be ready for him. He didn’t want to hurt you too badly, after all. After a little longer, he figured he had prepped you enough, and he removed his fingers from inside of you, wiping them off on his cock. He spit in his hand and used it to lube up his cock just a little more. Kazuha readjusted himself and lined himself up with your hole. He started pushing inside, and you couldn’t help but yelp a little bit as you felt his head pop into your hole and stretch you far more than his fingers had. He groaned again as he felt your warm insides starting to encompass his dick. To prevent anyone coming in to check on any questionable sounds, Kazuha covered your mouth with a hand before he pushed the rest of his cock inside of you in a single stroke. This time, you let out a little scream at the sudden pain of him going all the way in so fast. However, thankfully for him, your scream was significantly muffled by his hand covering your mouth. The groan that he emitted when he pushed all of the way inside of you was ringing in your ears. It made you blush, and you could feel yourself tighten around his cock a bit.

Kazuha began thrusting in and out of you, hard and fast. He let go of your wrists, but your arms stayed put. You were already tired, and the way he was fucking you was only ridding you of more energy, if that was even possible. However, you did still have the energy to moan and whine. Kazuha was making you feel so good. You had never felt this way before. You had always been too afraid to even touch yourself, so everything you were feeling was completely new.

You were starting to feel a little funny, and everything began growing more and more intense. Kazuha had started to play with your clit, and with that, you were about to cum. However, all that you could process was the growing overload of good feelings where your body and Kazuha’s met. It felt like a knot that was about to snap, and suddenly, it did. You could feel your muscles tense up, and you were seeing stars. You let out a moan that was probably a little too loud, but neither you nor Kazuha really cared, since Kazuha was being pushed over the edge by the way you were pulsing and squeezing around him.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so fucking good. I’m gonna fill you up, gonna show you how it feels to be dripping with my cum.”

And with that declaration, he was cumming, filling you up, just like he said he would. You were about ready to fall asleep and assumed everything was over now. However, when you felt Kazuha start to move again, you realized things were quite far from over.

“Come on, baby. Gotta make sure your first time is so good. Gotta fuck you all night, okay?”

And with that, you felt yourself completely relax, having no more energy left in your body. This was going to be a long night.

~ ♡ ~

You woke up with heavy eyelids, a splitting headache, and a sore body. You weren’t entirely sure where you were at first, but eventually, things started coming back to you. Oh god, had you really gotten that drunk last night? And had you really lost your virginity to Kazuha…?

As your thoughts ran, Kazuha walked into the room with two plates of pancakes wearing just a pair of grey sweatpants with his hair tied back in a bun. When you heard him walk in, you suddenly became very aware of how naked you were and tried to hide further under the blankets.

“Oh, come on. You have nothing to hide. I saw everything last night.”

He smiled so sweetly, and you couldn’t help but feel stupid for trying to hide from him. He walked over to you and sat down on the bed, handing you one of the plates of pancakes.

“Did you make me pancakes…?”

“Well, I made us pancakes, and I definitely didn’t make them from scratch, so no need to be impressed.”

“Thank you…”

He pouted at your lack of enthusiasm.

“What’s wrong, princess?”

You looked at the blanket, blushing and trying to formulate your sentence.

“I… I just don’t know how to feel about what happened last night…”

He pouted again.

“But you seemed to like it so much.”

“I mean, I guess I did. I just… I don’t know… I just wish I had done that with my boyfriend or something…”

“Oh, so you do have a boyfriend, hmm?”

“No, no, I don’t! I just would have rather done that with someone I was in a relationship with…”

“Well, if you’re single, why don’t you just date me?”

“Date you?!”

“Is it really such a terrible idea?”

He looked positively dejected.

“No, It’s just… I didn’t think you would ever want to date me…”

“Awww, baby, of course I wanna date you.”

“Really…?”

“I made you pancakes, didn’t I?”

He smiled at you goofily.

“I just didn’t think you’d want to date someone like me. I’m not a lot of fun, you know…”

That made him roll his eyes.

“Well, last night, you proved just how fun you really are.”

Kazuha really wasn’t lying. He was absolutely crazy about you at this point. Hell, he even made you pancakes. He enjoyed the way you stared at him with a mix of curiosity and apprehension, clearly not used to how different from you he was. And he couldn’t deny that he was absolutely hooked on your pussy…but that’s not important. But anyway, for once, he wasn’t just trying to get in your pants…even if he was still technically trying to get in your pants.

Before you could respond to him, your phone started to ring. It was Xinyan. She was calling to make sure that you had gotten home safe from the party, but when you told her that you were still at Kazuha’s, she immediately hung up on you. However, after only a few seconds Kazuha’s phone began to ring, Xinyan, again. The second he answered it, you could hear shouting coming from the other end. You couldn’t make out a lot, but you were able to make out a few things like, “FUCKING MANWHORE!” and, “IF YOU HURT ANOTHER ONE OF MY FUCKING FRIENDS!” After a few minutes of Xinyan getting her anger out on him, he eventually just gave up and hung up. She tried to get him to answer a few more times before trying to call you again. But before you could answer, Kazuha took your phone and put it out of your reach.

“Enough of her right now. You need to eat your pancakes before they get cold.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Mmm, if you wanna say that again, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

You blushed and started cutting your pancakes.

“Sorry, babe. Didn’t mean to fluster you.”

Kazuha leaned over and gave you a little peck on the lips before cutting into his own pancakes with a smile. He was looking forward to actually having a girlfriend of his own, even if he was going to annoy Tomo with all of his rather unfortunately descriptive poetry about you.

Tag List: @lilia-sspouse @but-a-peach @stannazuna @izzalovesdilfs @lordbugs @randomlycockroach @licensedsimp @leena-shi @cesimaaa @welpthisisfine @dainself-when-playable @fic-rebloga @bubblyxdolly @wanderin-stories @iwysbellez @k4ze3e @kenmabfasf @vvyeislazzy @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @hopeless-smvt

#mae’s daily paper☕️*•̊ⴰ✧#mae.melts🧊*•̊ⴰ✧#kazuha.❣︎•*✧ ̊ⴰ #so i know this is a little darker than what i usually post #but i wrote it for me but ended up really liking how i wrote it so i decided to post it anyway #anyway i hope that you guys like it but if it’s not for you that is completely fine i understand and have a nice day!#kazuha x you #kazuha x reader #kazuha x y/n #kazuha x female reader #kazuha smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #afab reader #female reader #tw dubcon #tw manipulation

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loveronlineee · 2 years

Text

I.O.U (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Masterlist All Parts

Eddie Munson x Cheerleader/Popular! Reader (She/Her)

Warnings: Drinking, drugs, mentions of sex

Synopsis: Eddie spots Y/N at a house party and decides to say hi. This results in a night way more fun than he planned it out to be

Y/N notes: shorter than Eddie

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

Wanna request something? Look here!

“Thanks for the weed, freak.” The basketball player spat as he snatched the little bag out of Eddie’s hand and walked back inside to the house party.

“Pleasure doing business with ya.” Eddie replied. He stuffed the money in the pocket of his ripped jeans. The popular kids were always worse when they were drunk, but they were also more likely to want to smoke.

The metal head leaned against the wall of the house, looking out at the dark street. He could hear the music blasting from the living room. They seemed to have a Madonna record on repeat and it was starting to get on Eddie’s nerves.

He heard the front door open and someone stumble down the front steps. They passed him and looked out at the road, unaware that Eddie was standing behind them on their left. It was Y/N.

Y/N L/N. Or as Eddie liked calling her, the nice cheerleader. The only one of those girls who didn’t look at him with complete disgust. The only one who said hi to him in the hallways. The only one who would probably have an actual conversation with him tonight.

“Y/N!” He called out to her. As she spun around he caught on that she was a little more than tipsy. “You okay?”

“Oh! Eddie! I didn’t know you were hereeeeee!” Her words were slightly slurred as she approached which made Eddie chuckle.

“I make the most profit at parties like this.” Y/N nodded in understanding. “So you okay?” He asked again, after not getting an answer the first time.

“I’m fine it’s just…” Y/N looked around again, confused. “Was there a car parked across the street earlier?”

“Uh yeah a group of girls got in and drove off like 20 mins ago.” Y/N sighed in frustration.

“Great. They were my ride home.” Eddie was surprised that Y/N’s friends would leave her alone at a party this late at night. She shook her head and turned to face the house again. “Whatever I’ll just ask someone to take me home later.”

“Uh my van’s parked around the corner if you need a lift.” Eddie suggested. Y/N smiled at him.

“Aww thanks Eddie, you’re so sweet.” He knew it was the alcohol talking but he couldn’t stop the smile appearing on his face. Y/N really was an adorable girl, drunk flattery or not. “You coming in?”

“The guys don’t really like if I go inside usually.’”Y/N grabbed his hand.

“Trust me. No one in that house is sober enough to notice you.” Eddie chuckled again and let her lead him in. Like she said, no one was sober enough to notice the new guest. Most of the party goers were in the living room, dancing to the music, drinks in their hands. Y/N led him through to the kitchen. She took two beers out of the fridge and handed one to him.

“Thanks.” Eddie said as Y/N hopped up to sit on the counter. That’s when he realised he was gonna have to talk a little louder for her to hear him. “So how come your friends left without you?”

“They’ve done it a couple times before.” Y/N pouted. Although it was comical, Eddie still felt bad for her.

“They sound like pretty shit friends to be honest.” He frowned. Y/N nodded in agreement.

“Yeah… but at least there’s one good thing that’s come out of that.” Y/N smiled as she leaned slightly closer to him.

“What?”

“If they didn’t leave, I wouldn’t have seen you!” She took another sip of her beer, not noticing how wide Eddie was smiling. Yeah the drink was affecting her choice of words but it was still Y/N. She still had that bubbly way of speaking like she did at school.

A jock walked in to grab another beer and spotted her on the counter.

“Y/N! We gonna fuck again tonight or what?” He shouted at her as two more jocks joined him, laughing. Eddie was ready to step in when Y/N opened her mouth.

“No I don’t feel like wasting another 30 mins of my life trying to find your dick before one more minute of nothing. If you wanna call that fucking go ahead but I’ve gotten more aroused seeing our school’s janitor clean the toilets.” The record finished just as Y/N started speaking, meaning that a lot more people heard her response. Her comeback was so quick it made Eddie think it might have been the truth for a moment. Who knows what she would have said if she was sober.

The jock glared at Y/N as he stormed out of the room, his two friends laughing at his expense behind him. Y/N’s smile quickly returned when she looked back at Eddie. “The thing guys forget about starting fake rumours is that you can put your own spin on it.”

��That was amazing.”

“Thanks! You kinda get a nak for it after the third time.” Eddie watched Y/N jump off of the counter, grab another beer and take his hand. “Let’s go somewhere quieter. I can barely hear you in here.”

He followed her up the stairs to the en suite bathroom. Eddie leaned against the tub as Y/N locked the door and hopped up on the counter again. She opened the bottle and took a sip.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay having another one?” Eddie asked. Y/N nodded, swallowing the beer.

“I know my limit. This is my last one.” Eddie nodded. “Hey Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do people call you Eddie the Freak?” Her head comically cocked to one side. Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed, a little confused at the question.

“Because I am a freak?” Y/N frowned deeply, eyebrows also furrowed.

“But you’re not!” She whined, pointing at him. “You just like metal and that complicated board game!”

“D&D.”

“Yeah exactly! Like what’s wrong with that?! You’re just having fun.” This girl really was something else. It sounded unheard of for a cheerleader to be self aware of the problematic school hierarchy. Yet here Y/N was, talking like she was one of the nerds at the bottom of the food chain.

“People don’t like different.” Eddie stated. “And I am very different.”

“That’s stupid.” Y/N mumbled. Her words half blocked by the beer bottle resting in her mouth. “High school is so stupid.”

“Yup.” Eddie agreed. He would never expect a cheerleader to say that but here one was. Calling the social system that worshipped her stupid.

“It’s literally not gonna matter when we graduate.” Y/N continued. “Do you think my interviewer for my dream job is gonna care how many friends I have? No!” Eddie chuckled at the passion in Y/N’s voice.

“You’re totally right L/N.”

“Hey Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“You know you’re like… really cool, right?” Eddie found himself unable to speak. Y/N thinks he’s cool?

“M-Me?” Y/N nodded.

“Yeah cause you like, don’t give a fuck. About what anyone thinks of you. You just do what you want. You shout things during lunch, you grew your hair out and got tattoos, you do your D&D club! You’re so unapologetically yourself. It’s amazing.”

Eddie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. After years of being called a loser and a freak, one of the most popular girls at school was gushing about him. “And I don’t give a shit what my shitty friends think, you’re pretty! You’re SO pretty Eddie and I don’t think you even know it.”

Now he really was speechless. Y/N L/N just called him pretty. He stopped leaning on the tub and stood up straight, taking a step towards her.

“Y-You think… you think I’m pretty?” He asked, still not completely convinced he heard her properly.

“Yeahhhhh. I really do.” She smiled dreamily at him. “My friends don’t agree but fuck them. I think after told them, they started leaving me behind at parties.”

A twinge of guilt rushed through the metal head. He was the reason she started getting treated differently. And although it showed her that her friends weren’t good ones, she still probably suffered from a lot of casual bullying.

“I’m sorry your friends did that. It’s not right.”

“Thanks Eddie. You’re really sweet.” She placed a hand on Eddie’s chest. He chuckled.

“You said that already.”

“I did?”

“Yeah you did.” His eyes wandered down to her lips. He watched as she leaned in closer but he pulled away at the last second. “Nope. You’re still drunk. It’s not a good idea.”

“I guess you’re right. Thanks Eddie.” Y/N said as she jumped off of the counter.

“For what?” She wrapped her arms around him, burying her head in his Hellfire shirt.

“For not taking advantage of me.” She said, muffled by the fabric.

“I don’t think thanks are in order for that.” Eddie replied, but reciprocated the hug anyway. He waited a couple seconds before pulling away. “It’s getting late. You wanna go home?”

“Yeah okay.” Y/N replied, pulling away too. Eddie kept a soft grip on her hand and unlocked the bathroom door. The pair were surprised to find Jason sitting on the bed with a girl who wasn’t Chrissy. “Jason?”

“Y/N?” He stood up from the bed. “T-This isn’t what it looks like!”

“Uh huh.” Y/N replied, unconvinced. Jason pushed his focus to Eddie.

“Why the hell is he here? And what the fuck were you two doing in the bathroom?”

“We were just talking calm the fuck down.”

“Oh yeah sure. I’m sure that’s what everyone will believe when I tell them what I saw.”

“And what are they gonna believe when I tell them what I saw?” Jason shut up, knowing he was in deeper shit. “I haven’t forgotten that rumour you started in junior year about us. Start anything and I’ll tell the whole school that Eddie’s dick is four times the length of yours.”

Y/N and Eddie walked out as she yelled back. “And his dick is average!”

Eddie started laughing at how quick witted Y/N was with these. “Sorry if that was too much.”

“No not at all. Y/N you’re hilarious.” They walked out of the house and down the street to Eddie’s van. “Where to Ma’am?”

“Maple street. It’s not too far from here.” Eddie nodded as he started the van.

“Yeah I know it. The Wheeler girl lives there I think.” The drive was short and by the time they arrived, Y/N was starting to recover.

“I think I’m sobering up.” She stretched.

“Welcome back L/N.” Eddie joked as he closed the van door.

“Why’d you get out too?”

“I gotta walk you to your door.”

“Eddie it’s right there.” Y/N chuckled and pointed at her house right in front of them.

“Uh I said I’d get you home and I am a man of my word.” Y/N smiled as they walked up. “Or will your judgemental parents take one look at me and ground you for a month?” Y/N laughed and shook her head.

“My parents are on a business trip. They’re back on Tuesday.”

“You’re home alone?” Y/N nodded.

“Yup. Whoooole house with just me.” Y/N looked in Eddie’s eyes and saw he was thinking the same thing.

“How sober are you now?”

“Like… mostly sober?”

“But not completely?”

“Nnnnnnno.” Eddie sighed with a smile.

“Then this is where I must leave you m’lady.” Y/N smiled back.

“Who knew that the drug dealer would be the only decent guy at a party?” She quirked her head to the side, watching Eddie’s smile widen. Her head suddenly snapped back up right. “Wait here a sec.”

Eddie watched as she ran inside and came back a minute later with one of those cue cards for study notes. She handed it to him and he took it.

I.O.U

One kiss

To: Eddie Munson

From: Y/N L/N

This voucher is non refundable and non exchangeable. Expires never (but I’d like it if you used it sooner than later<3)

Eddie giggled to himself at the last line. “Thanks for tonight.” She said. “I had fun.”

“Me too.” He waved the voucher. “I’ll be sure to use this real soon.”

“Good. Goodnight Eddie.”

“Goodnight Y/N.” He watched her walk back inside and close the door behind her. He found himself skipping back to his van. Sitting back down, he looked at the voucher again, focusing on the little heart at the bottom. He flipped it over to find a phone number on the back.

Call this number for any queries or complaints (or just if you just feel like chatting some more<3)

Eddie found his smile growing even wider as he started his van and began to head home.

He had the sudden urge to make a complaint. But perhaps he’ll wait until tomorrow.

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

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ohtobeleah · 6 months

Text

Before You & After You // Mickey Garcia

-> A Jekyll & Hyde Official Prologue

Summary: Fanboys got a crush on the knew Hard Deck Barkeep. But when he’s still getting over the traumatic loss of his wife, crushes and new beginnings aren’t always so ease.

Warnings: Car Accident resulting in death. Family tragedy. Mickey Garcia x F!reader. Mickey Garcia x Original Character.

Word Count: 3.6k

Author Note: Day Twenty Two of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Greif. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

We cover up injuries with tape and gauze to protect the injury and prevent infection, to save ourselves from further suffering. The hard part though, that comes when you have to rip the bandage off.

Because that? Well—that can hurt like hell.

“So the word on the street is that Hyde has a crush on you.” People say that there are five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. For Mickey Garcia? He sat somewhere between anger and depression any given day of the week. “That’s gotta feel good.” But somewhere between the depression and acceptance, sat you. Hyde.

Jake Seresin had known you for the better half of his life. He was the boy next door, the slightly older but far less mature brother who’d walk you home from the bus stop just to trip you over to see you face plant into the dirt at the same time. So when you had reached out to see if there was any work going in his corner of the world, he jumped at the opportunity to get you behind the bar of the Hard Deck.

Penny had been looking for a new barkeep, and hell, you fit right in.

“Hyde’s pretty—“ Was all Mickey replied with as he fed Logan, his eight month old, a bottle. “And nice, Hyde’s nice.” Was all Jake got out of the clearly distracted Weapons System Officer.

“That’s all? Pretty and nice?” Jake stared down at the little boy who was clearly getting milk drunk faster than Jake was getting real drunk. “Dude—don’t you think—“

“Don’t start.” Mickey snapped harshly, it had been a day and a half and the last thing he needed was Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin pestering him about when he was gonna get back on the horse. “I said she’s nice, now drop it, Hangman.”

Before Jake could say another word, he caught the sight of you sauntering over with a pep in your step and a smile plastered on your face. You brought the sun into any dreary situation, you lit up rooms with your smile and that infectious laugh that sounded like the gates of heaven had opened up truly brightened any person's mood that was blessed enough to hear it.

“Can I get you flyboys anything else to drink while I collect empties?” You asked politely as you stood holding the empty round collection tray. “Another bottle for Logan Mick?”

“Oh he should be good, thanks Hyde.” Mickey changed up his attitude real quick while you were around and Jake wasn’t one to not take notice. “But if you don’t mind I’ll grab another beer for Hangman and just a ginger beer for me thanks.”

“Sure thing.” You hadn’t been in North Island for very long, but in the time you had been you’d come to develop a pretty sincere crush on the back seater with the black curls and the cute kid. “I’ll be right back.”

Jake wasn’t gonna say anything as you walked away but Mickey beat him to it regardless.

“She’s got nice eyes too.” He mumbled as he rocked Logan in his lap. “They’re beautiful, just like her smile.” Jake hadn’t ever heard Fanboy say anything along those lines about anyone ever. “She’s a good person—“ He added before he pressed his lips together in a fine line. “But I’m not ready to move on.”

“I get it.” Jake sighed, he sympathised, truly he did. But Jake Seresin was always in favour of playing the devil’s advocate. “But if there’s anyone who’s going to understand it’s Hyde, she’s good people man, start slow and maybe you’ll surprise yourself.”

“Slow for me is just saying that another woman is beautiful out loud.” Mickey mumbled as he looked down at a now sleeping Logan, every bit the image of the mother he’d never truly know.

“Who’s beautiful?” You asked as he came back with Jake's beer and Mickey's ginger beer. “You got your eyes on someone, hey Fanboy?” It was an innocent dig but deep down you hoped that maybe, just maybe, he was talking about you.

“Oh—no I was just—“ Mickey didn’t know what to say or how to play it off. All Jake could do was watch, he could have thrown a lifeline out to the poor man but the sight of Mickey Garcia fumbling the bag was just too perfect. “I was just saying that I uh—you’re—” He couldn’t get himself to say it, and all you could do was simply try to hide the smirk that wanted to creep itself across your face. “I think that someone’s waiting for you to take their order.”

“Oh.” You tried to hide your disappointment but ultimately Jake could see right through your faked smile. “My bad, I'll get back to it then.” As you placed your hands in the back pockets of your jeans, Mickey watched with a painful twinge in his heart as you turned around and headed back towards the bar.

“Smooth romeo, hella smooth.” He teased as Jake took a sip from his beer. He wasn’t trying to push anything, he just thought you’d be good for Fanboy. He needed someone to be friendly with, someone who wasn’t navy to hang out with. Someone to help him heal from the trauma he’d been through.

Mickey though, he just took the opportunity to throw a single peanut Jake's way. He wasn’t ready to move on, he wasn’t sure if he ever would be. But as he watched you work and laugh with patrons who crowded the bar—he felt his heart flutter.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“I’m driving!” Sophie Garcia was the light of Mickey's life and for the last nine months, she’d been pregnant with their first born. “God please let me drive, I’ve been doing nothing but feeding our son for the past two weeks and I need to feel like something more than a dairy cow.” The college sweethearts couldn’t have been any more in love.

“So a chauffeur is what you go for?” Mickey chuckled as he strapped little newborn Logan Reece Garcia into his car seat. “Honestly Soph, I don’t mind driving, but feel free if you wanna.”

He should have driven.

Mickey hadn’t even finished strapping their fresh out of the womb son in before Sophie was clipping her seatbelt in and turning on the engine of the BT-50 the pair had both gone in for earlier on in their marriage. Five years and going strong. “Alright, well that answers that, doesn’t it buddy.” Mickey cooed to his sleeping son before he made his way to the passenger seat, a seat he hadn’t been in since before Logan was born. “You remember how to drive?”

He should have driven.

“I gave birth, I didn't have brain surgery—“ Sophie laughed as she put the truck into gear and pulled out of the driveway, the two of them were going on their first family outing—to home depot for bubble wrap and boxes for the big move. “Yes I remember how to drive.”

“Okay good, I was just checking.” Mickey strapped himself in and checked his phone, the Garcia family were set to move from Maine to San Diego in just under a week and still not a single person in Mickey's new squad knew he was a new dad. Not Bob or Payback, Coyote or Hangman, Rooster or Phoenix. No one. Not a single one knew about his wife or kid and not a single one knew he was married to the love of his life. His best friend. The human embodiment of true beauty.

“When should we head around to your mums for dinner?” Mickey asked as Sophie drove the open road boarded by paddocks and empty fields. They lived right on the outskirts which meant farms and the quarry where local contractors got their materials from. Sophie never did like the quarry, it gave her the heebie jeebies every time she drove past, like it was calling to her. An unknown force pleading with her to come closer, to look over the edge.

“Maybe just after six when Logan goes down for a—shit!” In the blink of an eye Sophie was overcorrecting the steering wheel, Mickey only caught a glimpse of the stray horse that had shot out onto the road right in front of their truck as his wife swerved but managed soon thereafter to regain control. It was unlike any horses Mickey had seen around the farms that boarded his little slice of paradise. After having grown up in an apartment in Brooklyn he wanted his family to know fresh air and grass.

This horse was different though, it was gone in the blink of an eye.

“Holy shit—“ Sophie sighed as she kept both hands on the steering wheel and felt her heart hammer into her chest. “That was close.”

“Too close.” Mickey added as he turned around to check on little baby Logan. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?”

“No no I’m okay.” Sophie was adamant about it, she wanted to contribute to the team. “It was just a freak occurrence, Amor.” As soon as Mickey turned around to face the road, Sophie’s eyes trailed from the road to her husband’s for five seconds, no more no less. “I love you.” She had control, she was totally in control of the car her family were driving in. Everything was totally fine.

He should have driven.

“I love you too—“ Mickey managed as he drank in the sight of his glowingly beautiful wife, the mother of his child. As his eyes trailed back to the road he saw it, the massive pothole that was just completely unavoidable. “Sophie!” Mickey gasped as she hit the hole head on and overturned on the steering as they ran off the road. The plastic water bottle that had been sitting stagnant in the centre console cup holders became dislodged when they slammed through the quarry fencing and rolled right under the breaks as Sophie tried to hit them. “Hit the breaks!” Mickey shouted as he held on for dear life as the quarry edge approached. Holy shit they were gonna go over.

He should have driven.

“I’m trying, I can't!” Sophie tried repeatedly as the truck approached the cliff face of the quarry ditch. “Oh my god oh my god!” As soon as Sophie was able to pull the handbrake in a last stitch effort to stop the truck her little family were in from careening over the edge of the quarry—the two front tires went over the edge as dirty scrapped along the bottom of the cab—stilling the vehicle on a near vertical tilt.

Airbags designed to protect the occupants deployed and in the process, broke Mickey's nose. He wasn’t prepared for the sheer force of the deployment before it smacked him right in the face.

“Oh god!” He groaned as he pushed the sea of deflated airbag down into his lap as the view before him came into clear sight. All he saw was the quarry as they teetered on the edge of the embankment. If the truck slid any further forward? They’d fall to their deaths.

“Holy shit, we’re okay.” Logan had never cried so hard before in his two weeks earthside, the tiny little human in the backseat was just sleeping soundly before all this. Now he was up and hungry and crying out for his mum. “We’re okay—“

“Mickey.” Sophie could barely speak as her hands clutched the steering wheel, her own airbag sat deflated in her lap as fear all but consumed her very soul. “Oh my god.” The car rocked slightly as the wind rushed past and Sophie let out a whimper in fear. “Help—“

“Okay, alright—we’re okay.” Mickey was trying to think about how to get out of this mess without making the car move. They couldn’t stay like this, not trapped on the edge of a ledge that would surely give way. “Can you open your door?” Mickey asked through a shaking voice as he unclipped his seatbelt and opened his car door very, very carefully. He needed to check on Logan, needed to get him out of harm's way. But as he popped the door handle the car slid slightly forward. “Fuck.” He could taste blood but that didn’t matter, what mattered was his family.

“Uh—“ Sophie shook her head as she tried to open her door. But it didn’t budge—the fencing post had jammed the aluminum framing in as they ran through the fence. “No, no I can’t open my door.” Logan wasn’t settling as his cries got louder and louder. “Mick, please you have to get Logan out of this truck, please—“

“Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise—just try and stay still alright.” Mickey was moving as carefully and as slowly as he could to get out of the truck. Once he was out, Sophie really began to cry as she covered her mouth with her hand and moved the deflated airbag to see her knees and thighs were cut up and jammed right up under the steering wheel column.

She wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“Hey—“ Mickey cooed as he slowly but surely opened the back door of the truck to unclip his son from his car seat. He was being as careful as he could be to not rock the truck. “Hey little guy you’re alright aren’t you buddy.” Logan was a mess, his little cheeks were red as red could be as his little lungs ignited with oxygen to fuel his cries. “I’ve got you, daddies got you, I’m here, you're alright.”

“Is he okay?” Sophie cried as she tried to remain perfectly still, only moving her hand to slowly press the window button. “Miguel is Logan alright?”

“He’s fine.” Mickey replied once he had the two week old out of his car seat and crying on his chest. “He’s fine, I’m gonna put him down by the tree and I’ll be right back okay.” Before Sophie could protest, Mickey was racing over towards the tree that wasn’t far away—he knew there was a rope in the back of the truck he could tie to tow bar off to if he couldn’t get Sophie out, that was plan B. Plan now was to get her out.

“Shhhh I’ve got you.” Mickey tried to soothe his son as he placed him down on the ground as gently as he could. He took the jumper off he’d been wearing to make a little makeshift bed before he placed Logan in the comfort of his father’s scent. “You’re okay, I’ll be right back.”

When Mickey returned he saw the full extent of his wife’s predicament and knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but they had to try.

“I’m never driving again.” Sophie tried to crack a joke but all Mickey did was try to open the door. It wouldn’t budge for love nor money. This was bad, very bad.

“Okay, I need you to try and move your legs.” He could see how jammed up in the column they truly were but it was one of the only hopes left. Maybe if Sophie could get herself unstuck Mickey could pull her through the window or help her out the passenger side. “Come on Amor, you have to try.”

“I can’t move them.” She sighed through a whimper as she tried to set herself free, the truck slipped a little further and Sophie froze in fear. She was looking death right in the eye now, it was a long way down to the bottom of the quarry. “Mickey—“

“I’m right here, I’m gonna get you out, I just need to buy us some time to figure out how.” He explained. “There’s a rope in the back, I’m gonna tie the truck off to the tree okay, I’ll be right back.”

Sophie Garcia knew she wasn’t getting out of the truck the longer she stared out into the abyss that was the quarry threatening to consume her. She could hear her baby boy crying out for her but there was nothing she could do but accept reality, accept the hand she’d been dealt. All she hoped in that very moment was that her college sweetheart, her best friend and father of her very first and only child would find someone who could love him like she did, or possibly more. She wanted him to be loved forever because Mickey deserved all the love in the world and more. He didn’t deserve this, to lose the love of his life.

And perhaps Sophie wasn’t the love of Mickey's life, perhaps she was just his first, maybe there was some greater love waiting for him around the corner. It brought her a calming sort of comfort as she sat there teetering on the edge of nothingness, trapped in the wreck of her actions. She should have been paying attention.

Mickey grabbed the rope from the back of the truck and tied it around the back of the tow bar, making sure it was secure before he took off running right towards the tall tree that he knew was strong enough to hold the weight of his BT-50.

But when he felt himself stopping, being pulled back by gravity as he fell to his arse, Mickey's heart sank into the very pit of his stomach.

“No—oh god no no no no!!” The rope wasn’t long enough. The rope wasn’t fucking long enough. “Oh god no, please no.”

Mickey felt the truck shift forward as he let go of the rope and raced back to his wife’s side. There wasn’t enough time, he needed more time to get her out, to think, to understand why this was happening. But there wasn’t any time.

“I love you so much.” Sophie cried as Mickey reached in to try and free her legs from being trapped up under the steering wheel column but he was doing more damage than good. “So much Mickey.”

“I need you to pull your legs out right now!” At this point Mickey was a wreck, he didn’t know what else to do. “Pull your damn legs Sophie!!” Her bottom lip quivered as the truck shifted forward again, it was tipping. It was about to go. “NNOOOOOO!!” Mickey shouted as he held onto the door and tried to pull it open. He couldn't do anything else to help his wife.

“Please look after Logan for me—take care of him always.” Sophie cried as Mickey reached in to try one more time to free her. “I love you.” Was the last thing she ever said before Mickey felt two hands on his body before he was being shoved away. The second he fell back onto the ground the truck his wife was still trapped inside of went careening over the edge of the quarry.

“NOOOO!” It felt like time stood still as Mickey watched the love of his life fall to her death over the edge of the quarry cliff face. He laid on his stomach and peered over to see the crumbled aluminum at the bottom—all twisted and broken and shattered. “NNOOOO!”

Logan continued crying even when Mickey had found the courage to pick himself and his son up off the ground to try and find a way down. He probably circled that particular part of the quarry for the better half of half an hour before the next car came down the road that was barely driven on. They saw Mickey walking along the edge and stopped when they saw the skid marks kicked up in the grass but no car in sight.

“You alright there bud?” An older looking gentleman asked as Mickey turned around to face him. Only then did he let himself crumble to his knees when reality set in. He’d just lost the love of his life.

“My wife and I were in an accident—I think, I think she’s—she’s trapped down in the quarry.” He cried out through painful tears. Mickey didn’t have the courage to say she was dead. “Please help me.”

“I’ll call an ambulance.” The older gentleman nodded as Mickey sat with his now soothing son on the ground, rocking back and forth mumbling to himself.

“I should have driven, I should have driven, I should have just driven.”

Until he saw the same white horse, staring at him from across the broken fence he and Sophie had smashed through. Just watching the man who lost it all in the blink of an eye unravel in the mid afternoon glow.

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Are you heading out for the night, Fanboy?” Mickey was one of the last patrons left in the Hard Deck, but he hadn’t taken any notice of the time that had passed as he thought back to the day he lost his wife. The damned day.

“Uh—“ He was going to say yes, going to head out and make sure Logan got to bed because it was way past his bedtime. But he was sleeping soundly in his arms as Mickey approached the bar. “No actually I was uh—I was gonna see if you needed a ride home actually.” It was the boldest Mickey had been since he met you and had started to develop some sort of feeling or two. “Or if you might just want the company while you shut up shop.”

It hurts to tear that bandage off, we don’t wanna see what’s underneath. But maybe it’s not the fear of the pain that holds us back, but maybe it’s the fact we’re afraid to see if the wound underneath is still open.

“I’d love a ride home.” You smiled softly with a nod as you felt the heat in your cheeks rise. “And the company seems pretty good to Flyboy.”

Or if it might actually be healing.

***~***~***~***~***~***~****~**

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs whumptober masterlist #jekyll & hyde // mickey garcia #mickey garcia angst #mickey garcia whump #mickey garcia x reader #tw: car accident

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ynbabe · 1 year

Text

Batfam x male reader

Jason: How did you know there would be an extra uniform in the bag?

Tim: Everyone knows flight attendants are required to carry extra uniforms, in case they get called to work unexpectedly.

Dick: Or if something happens to the one they're already wearing.

Tim: Everyone does not know that. How did you both know that?

Roy (yes he’s a bat now, no idgaf abt queen): Worked airport security.

Jason and Y/n: *Simultaneously* Slept with a flight attendant.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Jason: *sighs* I have no friends...

Y/n:

Y/n: *coughs* Bitch, what am I? A roach?!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Tim: I can’t go, Dick’s mad at me

Y/n: Why?

Tim: Well there was too many people watching on the Netflix account so I texted him and told him to check the news ‘cause Batman was dead and when he saw I was lying he couldn’t get back onto the Netflix because I had taken his spot

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Jason: [on the phone] Hey do you remember when I said that me and Y/n were gonna have a calm night out?

Steph: Yes?

Jason: How much bail money do you have?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Jason: [takes off his shirt and jumps into a fighting stance] Fight me you bitch

Y/n: [picks up Harley’s shirt and puts it on] What’s your next move?

Jason: Wait what-? Gimme my shirt back

Y/n: No you’ve made your decision

Jason: L/n I’m cold

Y/n: Should’ve worn a shirt then

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Dick: Damian loves the outdoors

Dick: That time we went camping he was like Mowgli running around those woods

Dick: I swear Y/n, he was that happy that I honestly thought about just leaving him there

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Are you all caught up on homework?

Tim: I have a project due on Tuesday and I’m not saying I haven’t started but if you ask to see what I’ve done so far there wouldn’t be anything

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Pete, why did you put syrup on the shopping list?

Steph: Cause I like syrup

Y/n: Yes but now it’s all sticky

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n, serious: Don't go falling in love with me

Jason, also serious: Yeah, that's not a problem

*A few days later*

Jason: *yelling as he runs to Dick's room* DICK, I HAVE A PROBLEM

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Dick: Do NOT drink the night before the awards ceremony

Jason: Yeah yeah, be on time, don’t mess things up

Dick: NO. Alfred’s booked a bagpipe choir. You do NOT want to be hungover for a bagpipe choir

Y/n: Oh fuck

Dick: We’ll go out AFTER the ceremony

Dick: When the bagpipe choir has left the premises

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Tim got so drunk last night he puked all over my living room

Tim: It was the laughing! You made me laugh and I threw up!

Jason: Yeah it wasn’t the nine vodka sodas, it was the laughing

Y/n: “Oh my god! I drank so much laughter before this!”

Tim:

Jason: You owe us a new rug

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: [climbing down the side of the building]

Tim: Y/n!

Tim: Y/n come back! You’re gonna miss your cocoa!

Y/n: [in the distance] I know!

Tim: Well can I have it then?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Jason, after getting Tim duty: Horror movies don’t scare Tim

Dick: But Chuckie is so creepy though

Tim, spending wayyy to much time on Y/n with this: If I had to fight Chuckie I’d stand in an open field and kick him like a soccer ball every time he came towards me

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: We need to find Dami, do you have a picture of him?

Tim: No but I can draw him from memory

Tim: How tall is he? Like 2 feet?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Have fun at your party

Tim: Thanks

Y/n: You know what they say: “Liquor before beer, never fear. Don’t do heroin”

Tim: It’s a parent-controlled sociale for rich kids in Gotham I’ll be back before 9

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Fuck sake Bruce you said I had to babysit one kid

[Dick, Jason, Steph, Cass, Tim, Duke and Damian waving]

Bruce: They don’t exactly come separately... and you only need to look after Damian

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: [waking up from a near death injury] You were scared

Jason: Nah, I was waiting to inherit your millions

Y/n: Let me know where you find them, huh?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Bruce: Can’t you leave Damian alone?

Tim: I got all the Justice league, young justice, teen titans, titans, everyone at WE and a bunch of interns to sign this notebook I had and then I wrote “Sign here if you think Damian is stupid” on the cover

Tim: He almost cried

Tim: It was great

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Dick: Kid, could I have a moment in private with Y/n?

Tim: Sure, I’ll just plug my ears and sing an old sea shanty

Dick: Wait-

Tim: There once was a ship that went to sea-

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Tim, crushing on Y/n: Can I just say that I’d love to listen to you talk about Hell all afternoon Y/n

Jason, dating y/n and having met in hell: And can I just say that if I had my guns right now I’d shoot myself

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Uhhh

Damian: *scoffs*

Y/n: You want a beer?

Dick: He's ten!

Y/n: I don't know, what am I supposed to do with him!?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Damian: I wanna ride a horse

Y/n: Alright sweetie here’s the horse

Damian: That’s a horse?

Damian: [picks up book] I thought this was a horse?

Y/n: Damian that’s a cow

Damian: I wanna ride that

Steph: Me moo

Y/n: You’re not helping

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Tim, clearly drunk: I don’t even know how to drink! I’ve never had one! Like what do you even mix vodka with?

Y/n: A straw

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n, at a PTM meeting: Wait- that guy is the bullying you?

Cass, under strict orders from Bruce not to fight: Hmm

Y/n, knowing Bruce can’t say shit to him: [powering up] Not my first human, doubt it will be my last

367 notes · View notes

iammissingautumn · 1 year

Note

genuine question, in the kindest way possible: why do you like south park? i truly don’t get what the appeal is, especially in a sense of wanting to make fan content for it. i understand that it can be funny to watch sometimes, and i get when people like it casually, but i am continually confused when i see people making fan art and fanfics and intense in depth meta posts about characters and characterization because it’s like. a joke show? it’s all a joke. it’s all satire and inappropriate/sometimes genuinely over the line humor. i don’t understand why there are so many people who seem to resonate with it in such a way, especially because as far as i can tell most of the fandom seems to be very young people - teenagers and young adults. again, i don’t ask this in a mean spirited way or to judge or shame, i just am genuinely baffled every time i see south park content you share and i wanted to ask… what’s up with that? what’s the appeal, for you? why do you think people are so into it in this fandom way? do you think that the fandom is just very divorced from the content itself?

Oooo thank you so much lovely follower. This is an amazing ask. And if you’d want the answer I’ll give!!! And there’s a TL;DR at the end of this :>

Why do (you) so many people like South Park?

(C.W. for south park typical stuff, mentions of abuse and s/a in many forms and serious topics.)

1. What’s the appeal for you?

I got into the South Park fandom at the age of probably ten or so. Eight years ago. How did I get into it? Uhhhh I watched the series rarely as a younger kid. What made me want to get into fandom? To tell the truth it was Stick of Truth. That was South Park’s first video game where you are put into the town and play along side the kid. South Park was the first fictional series I ever got into. Before that I had been a youtube shipper (Septiplier). And then I saw South Park. To be fair, I saw Kenny. Early memories of South Park is fanfiction and pinterest art and playing hours on hours of Stick of Truth, and later the next game.

What did I see in Kenny McCormick? He was a poor kid, who died everyday, with parents who fought physically and verbally. He was the fourth wheel in a best friends/obsession dynamic of his close friends. Pretend this isn’t a comedy. Pretend this isn’t some silly show. It’s a boy who can barely have enough money to eat. He had a younger sister he was willing to sacrifice anything for. And an older brother who never said much without a slur to his words. Without saying too much about my life on main I had a lot of reasons to identify with that. This is a house that many people can identify with, drunks as parents and kids who have to take care of themselves. On top of this he’s Princess Kenny :) Get’s treated as a girl in a roleplaying context and loves it. She’s a great princess. My interest in Kenny then went to Bunny (Ship of Kenny McCormick and Butters Stotch).

What is there to see in Butters Stotch? He’s a boy being dragged into sexist, racist, and homophobic talk. We quite literally throughout the series see him become more and more mean. How does a nine year old boy get dragged through those things? His parents are incredibly abusive, often grounding him for things he didn’t do and finding any excuse to blame anything for. He believes he’s at fault for everything he’s in trouble for. The only friend he eventually gains is a boy who uses him for schemes and tried to kill him at least once. The other person he considers to be a friend doesn’t speak or lead. He finds someone who sticks with him and isn’t a hypocrite and sticks to him no matter the pain he’s put through. He also want made for conflict and enjoys femininity. This will be talked more about later, but I assume you can make some assumptions as to why a ten year old could like the stuff shown here. Then again the next list will be why I like it as well. But Kenny and Butters were my start. They’re on of the most popular ships in fandom. So there’s a lot of content.

2. Why is this a popular fandom?

It’s like. Have you ever been neurodivergent? Have you ever been gay? Have you ever been trans? Have you ever been abused? Have you grown up in a simple U.S. town?Have you ever accidentally become codepdent to your childhood friend as a child? Have you ever been born into a situation that hurts you for years but you’re a child you don’t know what to do? Have you ever been a child and all the adults are so stupid and they’re supposed to be protecting you?

Have you ever been all of those things or some of those things and wondered. Holy Fuck. How am I going to handle this all? I hope I don’t need to explain how or why some people would feel these things and how they would use South Park to express these feelings. (Relatability.)

(Age.) A big criticism I’ve heard is. Oh no. They’re Ageing Up These Characters To Have Sex. It’s a very weird assumption and very strange to assume that people would only care about themes of childhood, being a son, or growing up if it’s about sex. Aging up the characters often has to do with wanting to give them maturity and time to learn. You have access to kids still forming their brains, you have access to 50 year old adults who are still growing and dealing with their current problems. High schoolers going to teen parties for the first time and drinking and smoking. College kids going to parties for the first time drinking and smoking making steps to join their profession and figuring out what they want from live and having the freedom of life or being trapped by family expectations.

Infinite scenarios. The amazing thing about South Park is you have at least ten characters to make whatever drama you want with at a time. You can make an ensemble piece of friend groups full of years of love and hate or a focus on one characters inner turmoil. You can make them into fucked up adults with complicated feelings, a gay man who’s never accepted himself sees his childhood best friend and Understands. The kid being drugged secretly by his parents dies of overdose and now everyone has to deal with that and the feelings towards the person. It’s winter and there’s too many holes in kenny’s house so he asks to stay over at someone else’s by knocking on a window and sneaking in. On top of this for many seasons one of South Park’s things is they would make fun of specific movie concepts that have been run into the ground by putting the kids in it. Losing Edge, Stanley’s Cup, and Up the Down Steroid are great examples of this.

People love to take the absurd seriously. I don’t think I can explain how people who see something silly and take it seriously do it. If you don’t see the appeal that’s really fair. But when Kenny Dies plays and we see Kyle Stan and Eric deal with death in their own ways. We see their differences highlighted. As we watch The Passion of the Jew we see this internalized anti antisemitism, that many people who have the same thing or something similar like internalized racism, homophobia, transphobia, ablism, etc. see reflected on the screen in this surprisingly real way.

A lot of content. There are 26 years of seasons in this show. That’s a lot of content, but genuinely a lot of people don’t watch even half that shit. Majority of the time I’ve spent being invested in South Park I had only seen a few dozen episodes. There are two full videos games with extra content and a phone game. A movie as well. A lot of content you can pick and choose from! A lot of small moments to hang on to. (I.e. Good Times With Weapons Butters get his eye hurt, fandom draws him with a scar more often then not. Eric got Kenny’s eye as a transplant after Kenny died one time. Kyle is said to have the same nose as his mom; hooked.) these build the fandom, but everyone has always embraced those who reject and those who accept canon. There’s so many different things to sink ur teeth into, including serious AU’s of the canonical fantasy and superhero games the characters play together.

But once again I’ll harp on this. I think what brings people to this show is seeing damaged things and giving them the chance to heal. Or giving them things to make their damage a bit easier. Or maybe damaging them more. Standard exploring relationships and feelings. But on top of this we see character who have been sexually assaulted, groomed, abused, neglected. While also the show gives very liberal takes and knows how fucked up these situations are. That’s apart of the comedy (Tsst. Where we see Liane Cartman take away the chance for Eric Cartman to become more respectable and less bigoted and everything because she wants someone to hang out with her.). There’s always something enthralling about seeing yourself on the big screen, and seeing my friends right there too etc. (Relatability, again.)

Simple designs. A child could make the cardboard cutouts that we see the characters as. That’s motivating! What’s also motivating? Giving these characters with specific color schemes a full face body and wardrobe of clothes ! Oh so that means I can make my favorite superhero team Coon and Friends all hanging out together? So that means I can draw something about Kenny dying? So I can make them play dsi’s together? There’s a lot of one off concepts we get that are very cool and some people love to reimagine them in their own style. Others love to make the setting more fantastical like Princess Kenny in the rose garden during the Black Friday Trilogy. You can make them anything!

Sand box! We have set up friend groups, conflicts from twenty years ago, and a mayor of the township! We have the entire map laid out in front of us and more from every episode’s location that hasn’t been included. We have the local coffee shop and the local movie theater. We have a whole city! We have canonical neighbors and stores and everything! Where would you like to start? We have it all.

Taking things “Seriously”. Most importantly, South Park wants to be take seriously. SP doesn’t work without being able to take it seriously. The comedy in Passion of the Jew doesn’t work unless you sympathize with Kyle. I laughed at the obliviousness of the adults as Cartman formed his group and then a pit grew in my stomach as I saw Kyle and them about to crash. The comedy in World Wide Record Concert doesn’t work if you don’t know that Mr Garrison feels bad for a very dumb reason !!!! But that episode is genuinely one of the funniest to me. South Park did not make it a character trait that Mr Garrison is gay for all those early seasons just for us to not notice. And more importantly he feels like a very very ignorant gay man in those seasons, but he feels genuinely gay. As Kenny Dies it asks you to take this seriously, and we watch in Coon Vs. Coon & Friends and are asked for it to be taken seriously as Kenny describes the many deaths he’s faced. This show quickly shows how absurdist and crazy it is in most if not all episodes it has yet it still cares to ask you to take things seriously, to sympathize, empathize with these characters. It tells you to laugh at Kenny’s deaths and then it has the audacity to tell you he remembers Every Single One and is reborn every time, and that Cartman always knows and they never talk about it. They never mention it more then once. They lull us into personal moments and then never bring it up again. The fandom is built around these one off moments, these things the creators didn’t think too much about. These characters have such strong personalities and back bones that have existed for YEARS. Stuff set up and shown in the first five seasons makes sense to the characters of today. The character consistency goes rlly hard for a 25 year old show that only stops itself for exploring character because they know they’re there to be funny and not serious. It’s crazy and amazing and we want the serious shit!

History. South Park history is crazy, what’s ever crazier? Fandom history. The shows history doesn’t matter too much (except that time Matt and Trey went to The Oscars for sp while on LSD) but the fandom history is legendary. The development of fandom, the fandom blorbo of the time, the Stan and Wendy baby guy. It’s really neat. We have a steep history with artists that have come and gone in a very unique way because of how tumblr’s algorithm is set up. South Park’s fandom existed before most popular social media sites. And while this allows you to put the character in Any decade it also lets you see how old some of those ff.net fics are. The fanart on tumblr can easily be a decade old if you look at the right blog. A deactivated user behind it. Ships that have come and gone, we’ve been here this whole time !!!! I love hearing about different sites issues and problems. And also the beloved stuff that has happened here. Some people weren’t here before Creek was canon, some people came in with a canonical gay couple amongst the kids as just an average background thing.

So those are some reasons. The most important ones that I think most south park fan in the fandom. will list at least one of when being asked Why. I value all of these things heavily. You also meet some really great people with mostly solid opinions ! It’s great ! Genuinely a really understanding and accepting place with unique stories from anyone you meet.

3. Do you think that the fandom is divorced from the canonical content?

Off the rip I would say no. But it’s complicated. To those who have seen all or most of the show I’d say; We’re pretty connected. I think the majority of us are just smart enough to understand that Cartman is a bad person on purpose. A lot of this has to do with he’s something the creators use. He’s an archetype of the worst person and is the only character imo that gets pulled ooc in order to do What The Plot Needs. But majority of the fandom is gonna give Kyle curly hair, green eyes and he’ll love to study with some side sports interest. We have a lot of continuity in many ways.

That being said there’s MANY people who have seen Five episodes and read the wiki and maybe play the game(s?). And they treat the show the same as those who have seen it more. Those who have not seen the show might be a bit more outspoken about how it’s Bad or Wrong when they haven’t seen it and I usually don’t trust those people. Hence why I’m watching the entire show rn on my own, to get my own opinion. Those people who haven’t seen shit are also probably connected mainly to a duo or one character. Popular examples of this are Creek (Craig x Tweek) and Bunny (Kenny x Butters). There’s non watchers in the Style (Stan Marsh x Kyle Broflovski) and Kyman (Cartman x Kyle) community but less so from what I’ve seen.

But we’re looking at this show in a different genre. Many of us act like we’re creating CW Shows except Better. Many of us lean into drama and tragedy. Others are in it for the sillies. Majority of people know what’s bad in this show, some people are sometimes so hurt or misguided that they think Cartman is the only evil and never want to see him. Other times ppl are just uncomfortable with him (Like I’ve spent the majority of my time here being). There’s a scale! I think it’s important to realize what is wrong with the show in your own way, and I think the show gets demonized for its effects on main stream media and boys who couldn’t grow a spine for themselves so took Cartman’s personality. It’s pretty apparent that Matt and Trey are very liberal they just thought “making fun” of everyone “equally” was right which got some bad apples. No one likes season 9 episode 1. Not a soul. Tbh most of the drama doesn’t relate to bigotry, though enough does that it matters. And if you aren’t interested in exploring how bigotry effects ppl I’m not sure why you would be interested in South Park.

Like yeah Matt and Trey haven’t thought about Marjorine more than once, but everyone saw a boy being accepted and cared for and enjoying himself seen as a girl more than ever before. And Matt and Trey aren’t gonna give these kids real mental illnesses when we see the symptoms clear as day (price of making characters “unique”). We’re playing a different game then they are, so yeah we’re disconnected in some ways. But we’re very connected in others. We don’t let all 25 seasons go to waste.

And what has my opinion been from watching the show so far? Well I’m on season 11 and so far it’s not as bad as I expected. I agree with a lot of their messages and the stuff that’s obviously just. terrible isn’t as common as I thought it would be? Again, s9 e1 is the worst of it, and you phrased it really well when saying it’s mainly inappropriate humor that often goes over the line. They’re very liberal though, I mean they introduce a gay character in the first episode and in the 90’s teach a kid gay is chill. There are episodes I dislike or just get bored by, but most of what I’ve gotten through which is getting closer to half of the show runs from decent to surprisingly well made (pick any s8 ep tbh. oops all bangers). Mattrey aren’t me, and I’m here to develop the characters, they’re there to develop a comedy. we are not the same but we appreciate each other even tho we probably squint and think the other is more in the wrong then ourselves. But we enjoy each other occasionally.

EDIT: I meant to put this originally but not everyone here is a young adult. I’ve seen 11 year old fans I’ve seen 50 year old fans. we have a lot of diversity in stuff like that. I think young adults had a wave of coming into the fandom because creek became canon which gave the show credit for showing how good it can be at times. Every one of my south park friends are at least two years older then me. That being said I joined a discord that I hadn’t realized was for minors and saw the swath of young ages we get. a lot of us have a decade between each other, but even more of us are in that 17-25 range. I think it’s just more common for young adults to get into it since we have the freedom to watch whatever we want and it’s a household name some may have been restricted to. Then again I joined this when I was 10 as well so like. i may be a bit warped. either way this shows rlly has smth for everyone.

Oh wait! Oh no!!! TL;DR: South Park is a show that’s important to me and others for a lot of reasons. Nothing butters me up like seeing people in broken worlds be able to put it together again in the future, or to be torn apart idk it depends. Other reasons to like the show are: Relatability, they can be literally any age, Infinite scenarios, People love to take the absurd seriously, A lot of content, Relatability; again, simple designs, the setting is a sandbox, creators kinda want us to take this seriously, and a lot of fandom history! And probably more. We’re not that disconnected from the series itself but everyone is pretty aware how problematic it is and many disconnect entirely from the series. Other choose to embrace it to Fix Them. Ppl love to do a lot.

#anon #asks #i assume ur a follower bc i’m not sure how else u’d find this place #btw rlly funny if u r a follower and have been following for the last few months like i’ve been deep in it #Kenny and a butters metapost???#mod caden #south park #kenny mccormick #butters stotch #stan marsh #kyle broflovski #eric cartman #etc etc #sp creek #sp style #sp bunny #south park meta #meta

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romanarose · 4 months

Text

IYWBW: Bonus chapter: Candy

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Summary: Candy's thoughts

Warnings: Drug use, slight smut, feelings (eek!), sex work, im just gonna say dub con because she's not exactly thrilled with this part of sex work.

Immersibility: Reader is Latina, had curly hair, fem

AUTHORS NOTE: Because I am a shitty writer, the smut from last chapter came off to a lot of people as a threesome. I edited it so the Santi's bits are in italics and i think its more clear. The scene was meant to portray two DIFFERENT scenes.

**************

As Candy did a long line, the party in it's height, she was thankful this was a perk of the job. She'd already fucked 3 men tonight and then of of the other girls at the party while a group watched and christ, she was gtting tired. The drug began to pulse through her veins, however, giving Candy renewed vigor to finish the last stretch of the night. She had been able to take a breather, thank god, and was having a few drinks and a few lines, occaionaly chatting with the men and other women, most of whom she knew.

The girls liked Candy because Candy stood up for herself and for them, offering a layer of protection in a harsh world. Things could be dangerous in this line of work, women were killed all the time, but it'd not like Candy had a lot of options. She needed to get out. She needed to get a visa and go to America. She needed to get Javi something him and Santi could use.

What she'd do there, she wasn't sure, but it had to be better than this.

If her work only consisted of men she chose coming to her apartment when she chose, it would be a good job. Candy didn't mind her work most of the time and there were men like Javi and Santi who made it fun. That was good.

However, that wasn't paying the bills, so Candy had to attend these parties.

Another line of coke. She was aching and needed at least one more fuck from a rich man if she was going to be able to afford an air conditioning unit this summer. With air conditioning, she was more likly to get clients during the hot months; no one wanted to fuck in a muggy apartment in mid-july.

Javi would come either way, she knew.

Despite the fight, they had been able to repair things and her and Javier were back to normal, having excellant sex she got paid for. Santi too, although the sex was different, it was still just as mind blowing. Santiago reminded her of a little puppy, desperate and eager and wanting so badly to please... and please he did.

She tried so hard with those two not to fall, but it was hard. Santiago was so sweet, so adoring, so fucking good. Javier was strong, gentle, passionate. Both of them made her feel safe and loved. Sometimes, when she was lonely and tired and a little drunk, Candy would fanaticize about what a life might be with either of them, if they wanted kids, what they would be like as her husband.

She couldn't be that far off, could she? They both cared about her, that much was obvious. Especially with Santi, he was so open, so loving, so adoring as he looked up at her with those big brown eyes with his mouth devouring between her legs... did he want her outside of this?

And Javi, the night he made up with her and brought her the Audry Heffburn poster... he hadn't paid her, he hadn't fucked her, he simply fingered her until she came three times on his soaked hand and tucked her safely into bed... would he want a life with her, where they could fuck every night and she could make him the food he was always munching on when stressed?

Hands wrapped around her waist.

"Hola, Candy, I havn't seen you hardly all night." Martin Lorea, the drug lord that her two favorite clients were after, and a frequent client of hers. His hands lifted up her skirt and slipped two fingers under her panties, feeling her soaked folds.

"Mmmm" Candy liked the way he touched her, it was no Javi, but it did feel like. "I've been busy."

"I can feel that." Martin references the cum dripping out of her. "Better do one more, bebita." He leans around her, cutting up the last of the coke into two lines and doing one himself. "I've got lots of plans for you tonight. Don't worry, I'll make it worth it."

He would. He always paid well, liking to flaunt his wealth. Candy did one last line, feeling everything become less and less clear around her, and she barely felt it as he bent her over the table a little too roughly and her face pressed into the wood.

Her skirt was lifted in front of all the party goer, and Candy did her best to put on a preformence.

She had to get out of here, and the only way was to find out information from Lorea to give to Javi.

**************

Yeeeeesh. That was a little dark than I intended. Don't worry, candy is okay! I'm trying to find a blance between not like, demonizing sex work, because this is a sex work safe blog, but also being honest about the realities of being a prostitute in Colombia in the 70's. its not always pretty, in fact its often ugly.

ANYWAY! My belovedest Fen and I are working on the next chapter and it's gonna be a goodie!

I'm doing what I do best, HIGH DRAMA! And Fen is gonna deliver some of the BEST smut with baby santi and his mommy issues.

This is a v smut focused series but im lowkey a little smut burned out and i got a lot of project im trying to wrap up so fen is being amazing and helping me. Plus, this particularly smut is riiiiiiiiggghhhttt up their ally. If you like subby men, check out fens great work at @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction esp fics like Trine, with subby! blue jones and Good Boy with steven grant

thank you for you're continued support! Only a few chapters left <3

I have a triple frontier fic my dark account, Room's on fire, with a totally different characterization of santi <3

Notes are going down with is fine but its kinda tiring doing all these tags and then people dont respond at all so if you can give me at least a like to show your still her or a comment, ill know to keep tagging you <3

I have a update blog now too, @romana-updates

@runa-falls @lunar-ghoulie @campingwiththecharmings @whatthefishh @persephone-girl @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beelzebeth87 @pimosworld @millerscoffee @heareball @thatwonderouswoman @poolb @meveispunk @lovable-liar @millllenniawrites @read-and-wip @missdictatorme @the-fox-den @milkymoon2483 @k-ra @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rosellacwrites @legendary-pink-dot @dreamingofbucky @englandsgray@starsthatwatch @fairlyang @alwaysmicado @theywhowriteandknowthings @casa-boiardi @lostfleurs @ninebluehearts @puglover12 @sub-aro @laiisleitte @itspdameronthings @heareball @comfortlessjoy @csarab615 @bit-dodgy-innit @stevngrant @kirsteng42 @mrsjavierp@nanfafnan @lovable-liar @axshadows @cookielovesbook-akie

#iywbw #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #narcos #narcos fanfiction #javier peña #santiago garcia #if you wanna be wild

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blossom-hwa · 10 months

Note

materializes on your blog's metaphorical doorstep hi lina :DD

can i get a uhhhh hanji best friends idiots to lovers au (where he thinks they've been dating for a while and get confused when mc confesses) ??

alright thanks lina :DD

- person who lives in ur walls

to the person living in my walls: please get out of there. it's really cold. at least let me give you a blanket. or accept this idiots to lovers au as a way to get warm idk it's so stupid and fluffy and everyone is an idiot so maybe it'll warm you up idk I'm rambling hope you enjoy

summertime drabble fest: send me an idol from the list (Stray Kids, Ateez, TXT, Seventeen) + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

REQUESTS OPEN!!

Title: Expectations, Complications

Pairing: Jisung x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 2.1k

Genre: fluff, a pinch of angst, best friends to lovers, university!au

Warnings: cursing

The minute Jisung hits play, you know you're fucked.

Okay, no. Backtrack. Rewind. That's not where it starts—it's not even close.

It starts in high school. Senior year, prom. No one asked you out, and no one asked Jisung, so you went with a crowd of your friends and their dates. You drank. You danced. You screamed and laughed and cried at the afterparty, and you ended up on the roof of the party house at four in the morning, drunk and giggly and Jisung's head on your shoulder.

Still one of the best nights of your life, no contest. But it was in one of those moments, when you mumbled something incoherent and Jisung just giggled in response (before the two of you stumbled home together and spent the next morning nursing ridiculous hangovers in your respective houses), that you realized—that Jisung wasn't a friend. Not in the way you'd thought before, at least. That he was something else, something different, a friend and a thousand other things rolled into one—that you were fucked as hell for letting this happen.

But no. Maybe not. Maybe it wasn't then. Not senior year, not prom, but when you finally got your driver's license in sophomore year and drove Jisung out to get boba at your favorite place for the first time. No need to ask a friend for a ride, no need to beg your parents to take you to get your stupid boba fix for the week. Just you, your parents' shittiest car, and Jisung in the passenger seat rolling down the familiar roads to the tiny little cafe, and then sweet drinks in hand with tapioca pearls chewy between your teeth as you watched Jisung laugh loud and hard, his eyes squinted against the afternoon sun. You didn't know, not then, but you did know. Somehow. You didn't but you did, and the image is burned into your mind and it's never once gone away. It never will. And that's how you know you're fucked.

Except—it might not have been then. It could've been middle school, maybe. When someone kicked a soccer ball into your face and Jisung held your hand all the way to the tiny school clinic despite the fact that all middle schoolers thought holding hands was weird and gross. Or it could've been the summer before when you ran to the park together and jumped on the swings, rising higher, higher, higher into the air as the sun burned golden in the sky. Or maybe after the two week long fight you had (the longest one you've ever had, and you don't even remember what it was about) when you couldn't stand it anymore and decided to walk over to Jisung's house to apologize, only to swing open the door and find him on your doorstep first.

It could have been anything. A thousand and one moments in time, spread out over the years that have passed. Elementary school, middle school, high school, your first years of college—boba stores, the mall in your hometown, the neighborhood park—it could have been anything. Any combination. But see, the point is—

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter. None of it does. Not the exact day you knew, not the immediate second you realized, not the sheer length of time during which you've loved your best friend. Because you couldn't give an answer if someone asked, not to a single one of those questions, because with you, it's always been him. He's your beginning, your end. Your start, your finish. Everything you've ever known and wanted, everything you'll ever need.

And so when Jisung hits play and the song he wrote for you begins playing through the headphones you bought him for his last birthday, you know. You've known all along, distantly, but now—

You know well and truly for certain that you are incredibly, irrevocably fucked.

. . . . . There are tears in your eyes when the song finally ends and for a moment, Jisung's heart stops. Tears—what are they for? Happiness? Sadness? He didn't quite think that this song was—sad, per se, but maybe it was sadder than he thought, or too much too fast because after all you've only been dating for four weeks and five days—barely over a month—and god-fucking-damn-it now he's on the verge of hyperventilating because holy shit what if he just made the biggest mistake of his stupid twenty one years of life—

"I'm so sorry," he gasps out.

You turn around in the chair to face him but he can't meet your eyes. "I'm sorry, it was probably such a shitty song, or like I shouldn't have let you hear it now—it's too early and you probably weren't ready I'm so so so so sorry—"

"No!"

The sheer volume of that single word ends his rambling. Which is pretty impressive given that when Jisung is nervous, he tends to talk. And talk and talk and talk. Which is—bad. At least now. Because you're taking a deep breath, way too deep for you to be saying anything good in the next beat, but all Jisung can do now is hold his own breath and pray.

Dear God, if you can hear me, I know I haven't been the best when it comes to believing in you and I'm still mad you didn't hear my prayers last semester right before my Calc II final, but if I've done even a single good thing in my life please don't make it so that I messed this up, not when it's barely been a month since I started dating Y/N.

"Jisung, I..." You take the headphones off, placing them carefully on the desk. Your fingers twist in your lap, a familiar nervous habit of yours that doesn't do much to quell the anxiety building in his throat.

When you don't continue, Jisung opens his mouth. He can't help it. He needs to say something, anything, apologize again and pray that you'll help him forget this ever happened—

"I'm so sorry," you blurt out.

Jisung's heart drops. Shatters on the ground. I'm so sorry. He messed up, he messed up so bad—

"I'm sorry," you repeat, and your eyes are so shiny with tears it hurts. "I—I can't do this anymore."

He tries to speak. To move. Salvage something of this relationship. But nothing happens. Every muscle in him has frozen.

"Jisung, I—" The tears start to spill. "I'm so sorry. I can't do this. I love you, I love you so much and I—it's not just as a friend—"

Wait.

What?

"The song was beautiful." You're properly sobbing now, hands harshly wiping the tears from your eyes as you hunch over in the chair while Jisung still can't move. "Brilliant and lovely and I just—I can't. Because I know you just think we're friends—"

What the fuck.

"—but I can't keep it in anymore, I can't keep just thinking of you as a friend because I love you, I've been in love with you for so long it hurts, and I—I won't be able to stand it if this song was just about our friendship because I—it would hurt too much—"

"Y/N."

Jisung's mouth moves without his brain telling it to. And to his surprise, you stop talking. He hadn't thought he'd quite spoken loud enough for you to hear.

"I—Y/N." All the fear that's been building up since the start of your spiel melts away into pure confusion because—what the fuck? The two of you have been dating for a month now, four weeks and five days—he asked you to dinner and said "it's a date" and you didn't disagree, just smiled so widely and nodded—and he held your hand and you talked for hours and then he walked you to your dorm and—

"Haven't we been dating for a month already?"

You blink. Once. Twice. Three times. Silence stretches for a moment that seems way longer than just a moment, and then you finally open your mouth and utter a single word.

"What?"

Oh, fuck. Now he's panicking. "I—I asked you out, right, like for dinner? A month ago? And then I said 'it's a date' and I—you said yes, I think if I haven't been hallucinating this whole time, and we got dinner and it was a date and then we kept going out—like to the amusement park last week? Just us? Were they—" And now for all his rambling a couple seconds ago, his voice dwindles to a whisper because his throat suddenly hurts and he's not going to be able to stand it if you say no—

"Were they not dates?"

Your mouth opens and closes. At least you've stopped crying, Jisung thinks helplessly.

"I—I thought you meant that as a joke." Your voice is barely a whisper, hoarse and confused and god fucking damn it, Jisung really wants to hug you right now. "I thought—I mean, we get dinner together all the time, we do all these things together, I thought you were just being…normal?"

Oh dear.

Oh fucking dear.

"But it was just us two!" Jisung bursts out. You flinch. Oh, shit. Too loud. "Sorry," he apologizes, hunching into his shoulders. "But—I—it was just us two, all these times. Right?"

You blink about a million times again. "…Right."

"I meant them to be dates," Jisung says miserably. God, he's such a fuck up—how did he fail at asking you out this badly?

You swallow. Your throat bobs once, twice, a third time. "So we've been dating…this whole time?"

Jisung cringes. "I thought we were."

"Oh." You cringe too now, eyes riveted to your fingers twisting tightly in your lap. "Wow. I'm so stupid."

"No, I am." Jisung squeezes his eyes shut, then forces them open again. "Sorry. I should've been clearer—I mean, uh, assuming you still want to date, it's totally okay if you don't I guess—"

"No!"

Jisung freezes. No as in what? You don't want to date? You want to date? He shouldn't have been clearer? What—

"No," you repeat, voice softer now. "I—I really want to date you, Jisung. I really do." Your words are trembling but this time your gaze is steady. "I really, really want to. I'm just—I'm sorry I didn't realize it when you asked the first time."

Jisung laughs nervously. Scratches the back of his neck. "Well, uh, I probably could've asked better. More directly." He cringes. God, he's such a fucking embarrassment. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault I'm dense." You give him a little sheepish smile and Jisung nearly faints, it's so good to see a smile on your face after he just made you cry with a song. "Does that mean…this song…"

Ah. Yeah. "That was a song about you," Jisung says quietly. His ears are probably so, so red. "About how I…I really love you."

In your seat, you remain still for one moment, then two. Then, just as Jisung's about to start screaming out loud instead of just in his head because what if that was too much too soon too, you launch yourself off the chair and into his arms.

"Oof."

"Sorry." Your lips move against his shoulder as his arms automatically slide around your waist, pulling you closer as he always has—since the day so many years ago when you decided to be best friends on the playground and sealed it with a hug. "I love you. A lot. And—" You take a deep breath, shaky in your throat but not with tears this time, just a little bit of a laugh. "I'm sorry I'm so stupid."

Slowly, slowly, Jisung's hand rises up your back. Comes to stop behind your head, holding you as close to him as he can.

"It's okay," he murmurs, a smile finally beginning to curve his own lips. I love you so much. "And, uh. Don't worry." He cringes into you, but it doesn't feel so bad now. Not when he's pressed against your warmth this time and can feel your smile against his shoulder. "I'm a little stupid, too."

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deanwinchesterswitch · 5 months

Text

November 2023 Fic Rec List

November was even busier than October. It literally flew by in a wink for me. However, I did manage to carve out some time here and there for a bit of reading.

Enjoy!

This is the last fic rec post for this year.😲

💜Thank you to all the authors who share your stories for my enjoyment. I am so very grateful for your talent and generosity!💜

I've been hoarding links and am looking forward to reading as many of those stories as I can during winter recess.

Many of these blogs and fics are NSFW-18+. Please honor any requests from a blog regarding no minors. I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume; heed the warnings for each fic.

~Supernatural~

An Imagined Life ~ @imagineteamfreewill. Author's Summary: Y/N and Dean have been best friends since childhood, and though they’re both adults with busy lives, they still manage to keep up their weekly traditions.

Before I Fall ~ @stusbunker. Author's Summary: None (Ficlet; Dean Winchester x Female Reader)

Deceiving Dean ~ @wayward-and-worn. Author's Summary: Taking place during Life with Dean. Sometimes you just need a little deception to keep things interesting.

Geronimo ~ @trektraveler. Author's Summary: Dean and Y/N. Oil and water. Always at each other's throats, their endelss bickering comes to a boil and Y/N has had it. She storms out of the bunker leaving Dean high and dry! Well, he isn't about to let her get the last word! What happens when he catches her?

Gift Wrapped ~ @wayward-and-worn. Author's Summary: Dean has been away on a hunt for quite a while. She has a surprise for him when he comes back.

Happy Thursday Food Coma Day ~ @wayward-and-worn. Author's Summary: It’s Thanksgiving, and Dean and Y/N feel bad that Benny can’t enjoy a feast like they can. So, an alternative is offered. And devoured.

Jessie ~ @little-diable. Author's Summary: The reader is missing Dean too much, so she tells him all about the places she wants to visit with him – mere dreams Dean is set on turning real.

Just Like This ~ @pink-sparkly-witch. Author's Summary: Working a second job in a bar to help pay for Sammy’s education, Dean finds a kindred spirit in bar manager Y/N. When a drunk Douchebag gets too handsy with her, Dean quickly jumps to her defence but faces harsh consequences.

Loving and losing ~ @mcavoy-girl. Author's Summary: None (Ficlet; Dean Winchester x Reader)

Meeting In The Darkness ~ @princessmisery666. Author's Summary: You forgive Dean for what he did when he had black eyes but he can’t forgive himself.

Mini Date ~ @avanatural. Author's Summary: Based on 12x22 “Who We Are.” Y/N vowed to herself that she’s done with meaningless hookups. And Dean vowed to himself that, when the time is right, he is going to give her more than that. But what happens when their time is running out?

No Title ~ @supernaturalfreewill. Author's Summary: None (Drabble; Dean Winchester x Reader)

Say You Won't Let Go ~ @cockslutpadalecki. Author's Summary: After a bad experience at a haunted house attraction when you were a kid, you promised never to step foot in one again, but Dean helps you to overcome your fear.

Showed Me (How I Fell In Love With You) ~ @mind-empty-just-fictional-people. Author's Summary: Dean helps you up your flirting game, but there’s really only one set of eyes you want on you.

Something In The Way ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: Young Dean might have the swagger of a player, but when it comes down to it, he’s just a shy, excited little boy…

Stay The Night ~ @wearywinchester. Author's Summary: When a hunt goes wrong, Dean gets protective and finds he’s got to keep an eye on you, something more coming out of it than expected.

Thanksgiving Dean ~ @wayward-and-worn. Author's Summary: Another holiday has arrived.

What He Doesn't Say ~ @justagirlinafandomworld. Author's Summary: When Dean learns that you’re sick, he drives all night to get to you.

~On Patreon~

Rebekah Jordan (Impala-Dreamer)

Tourniquet-Chapters Three through Eight ~ Author’s Series Summary: Y/N has been by Dean’s side through his worst days, always there if he needs her, forever just a call away. Love is impossible to fight and more impossible to live with. Just a side character in his epic life, Y/N would give anything just to give Dean a moment’s peace.

thinkinghardhardlythinking

Close to Home - Author's Summary: Y/N and Dean are neighbours, and friends. The thing is Dean is a ladies' man and she has always known it, if he wasn't, maybe he'd be the ideal guy...but his eye for the ladies, how well they work as friends, as well as the fact that he'd never even think of her that way, all means that they are meant to be just neighbours and friends. Doesn't it?

Someone To Watch Over Me-Part 30 ~ Author’s Summary: (AU) Y/N is married to a very rich, decidedly unscrupulous and powerful man. A man whose inability to trust means he hires someone to watch over his wife while he isn’t around. He hires Dean Winchester, a handsome stranger to Y/N, who is soon to become a very big part of her life.

Oops! I didn't realize until putting the post together that everything I read this month was a Dean Winchester fic.😏😆

Guess I was missing him a bit.🥺🥺🥺

#monthly fic recs #fabulous writers #dw's witch reads #november 2023 #120423

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9leaguesofmirrors · 2 months

Text

Set Lists (a Ross Gaines x Joseph Lisgoe fanfic)

This is purely self-indulgent. Nobody asked for a Band!AU, but I love the idea of Drummer!Lisgoe, so we have a band AU!

If you wanna know the name of the song the band is playing, it's Jobseeker by Sealford Mods because the song slaps and I like irony

CONTENT WARNINGS: Smoking and car makeout sessions because that's the life of a rocker innit?

If there was one thing Ross hated about the bar he went to, it was the Open Mic that happened every Thursday night

It had gotten to the point where he was playing mental bingo just to keep his sanity:

"Open Mic Thursdays" set list

A girl screeching her way through My Heart Will Go On

A group of drunk milennials singing ABBA

Some guy with a guitar (bonus points if he plays Wonderwall)

A wannabe rock band

A couple that thinks they’re in a Disney movie

The theatre kid

The one that can actually sing and wants to make it everyone’s problem

The try-hard crooner

So far, he’d managed to tick off almost everything (tonight they had a couple that was particularly gushy and it almost made Ross want to hurl his guts up), and now he was scanning the room for those rock wannabes. It was slightly shameful, the child-like excitement this game gave him, but it was keeping his morale up. And after the day he had at work, it was the least he deserved

And right on cue...

He watched as a group of black-clad 30-somethings took the stage to set up. Surely there’s an age cap on when it’s acceptable to still be in a band was Ross’ immediate thought before turning to his whiskey

Ross could hear a voice through the microphone, but he wasn’t paying too much attention. It wasn’t until the sound of heavy guitar filled the air that he could no longer focus on just his drink due to the sheer noise of it. The joys of live music. Always a racket

What it did mean, however, was that Ross was finally able to see what exactly a bunch of washed-up rockers looked like

"Weird Rock Band" set list

The singer: A slightly weedy guy with shoulder-length hair and glasses who, in all honesty, stuck out like a sad little thumb

The guitarist: Girl in a black bomber jacket and some sort of weird, messy updo; she looked like she’d jumped straight out of an 80s music video

The bassist: Another girl. Undercut, lace button-down and a silver chain. Looked a lot like the drummer, speaking of which...

The drummer: Who was now slamming his drumsticks down on the instrument like it had done something to personally wrong him

If Ross had to pick, and he only ever would if he had a gun to his head, he’d say the drummer was perhaps the most convincing rocker. He certainly had the jewellery, and he had that look of intense anger that was very prevalent in the scene. Ross was slightly ashamed that he could recognise it

Even though he didn’t want to admit it, this band was one of the better ones. Not that it meant much, considering the last time a band performed it ended with the guitarist grabbing a drumstick and volleying it at someone in the back of the pub

In particular, something about the drummer caught Ross’ eye. He’d never seen someone give it the way he did. Despite there being four people on that stage, the drummer was the one clearly pulling focus. And it wasn’t the usual desperate pandering, he was just present in the moment. Ross was slightly concerned that he was going to put a stick through a drum, but at least he was interesting to watch

Well, he wasn’t sure about the rest of the audience, but he was intrigued

The song reached its end and recieved a generally warm atmosphere. Ross' eyes still found themselves on the drummer as he twirled his drumsticks around with his fingers. He'd hardly noticed the singer step forward until he started talking, much to the disappointment of Ross

“We enjoying ourselves!”

I was until you showed up

“I said are we enjoying ourselves!”

Clean out your ears

He spoke a little more, and the people watching were having a good time, but Ross only started really paying attention when he started introducing the band members

"Weird Rock Band" set list 2.0

The singer: Admittedly, even Ross didn’t catch his name. He just wished he’d shut up and finish the song

The guitarist: Ruby Louganis

The bassist: Jodie something

“And of course, last but not least,”

Jesus christ, this is dragging on

“Please give it up for our drummer-“

Can we wrap this up?

"-Mr. Joseph Lisgoe!”

... Joseph

Drummer of a rock band

And his name’s Joseph?

There wasn’t anytime to ponder this though, because the band had started up again, playing another song Ross didn't recognise. Ross went back to his drink, allowing the noise to fade into the background

The band weren’t up for too long, only about two or three songs, before they packed up and went off into the backrooms. Not emerging until a bit later, well, two of them did. The girls. Ruby and Jodie

The closer she was, Ross could really see the resemblance between Jodie and the drummer. It was strange, they looked so alike yet extremely different. Though that could’ve been due to the thick eye makeup she was wearing-

“Show’s over, cunt. Eyes on your glass.”

Damn it

“I was just wondering-“

“Bet you were.”

“Nothing like that! You just looked like your drummer, wondered if there was a genetic reason.”

Jodie gritted her teeth like she was about to launch at him, but was stopped by Ruby placing a hand on her shoulder

“We’ll take your word for it,” she said, zipping up her bomber jacket “Jodie and Joseph are twins.”

“Makes sense. How long have you been playing together?”

“We don’t.” Jodie piped up, still wary of whether she could trust Ross or not “This was just a laugh. I like guitar, he likes drums. Thought ‘fuck it, why not?’ and found out Ruby and Jezza were looking for substitutes. This is a one night only deal.”

Ross nodded and tapped his fingers against his empty glass. For some reason, his mind shifted to the drummer. He always thought twins were attached at the hip

“Does your brother not hang around then? Early night for Little Drummer Boy?”

It came out a lot more condescending than he’d intended, but it got a slight laugh from both of the girls, so at least it eased the tension

“He’s probably outside,” Jodie said “smoking it up-“

“Or having it on with someone.”

“I’ll break his fucking teeth if he is, I’m not staying after hours so he can get a quick shag!”

“And I’m not dragging you off him when the fight breaks out, so get a shot down you and ease up!”

Since Jodie and Ruby seemed to be enjoying their drinks, Ross figured he’d leave them to it. Besides, he needed some fresh air

As Ross approached the side of the pub, he noticed a figure wearing a vest top on the far end. Lanky, cigarette in hand, back against the wall. He couldn’t make out the face until he took a few steps closer

“Can I help you?” Came the figure’s voice, slightly nasal

“I can leave if you want.”

“Nah. Public place, innit?”

Ross leaned against the wall next to him, keeping a slight distance out of respect. Close enough to see the many tattoos that covered his arms, upper chest, and the one on his neck. Usually, Ross thought tattoos were either gross or a desperate attempt to appear intimidating. But he had to admit, the barbed wire that travelled up his arms, the black bird on his neck and what looked like a crack on his chest looked quite good

Obviously, by 'good', he meant objectively speaking

Once he saw the slicked-back hair and the hardened gaze, he recognised who the stranger was

“It’s Joseph, isn’t it?”

“Yup.” He threw the cigarette down and stomped it into the ground “Most people call me Lisgoe.”

“That a stage name?”

Lisgoe gave him an incredulous, amused look

“No. It’s my surname.”

“I’ve never known someone use their surname as a first name before.”

“Puts a boundary up. Helps with my job.”

Right thought Ross he’s not a musician

“I collect debts,” Lisgoe explained, as if he could read Ross’ mind “well, I mainly deal with desk stuff. But I deal with the more difficult targets. Ones that need an extra push.”

Ross thought back to his aggressive drumming and decided that he didn’t want to know how he convinced those ‘difficult targets’

“What?”

Ross snapped out of his thoughts with a soft “hm?”

“You went off somewhere, have you been drinking?”

“What? No! Well, a little, but I can hold my alcohol well. And I never get drunk.”

“Wowee!" Sneered the drummer "We're in the presence of Mother Theresa!"

"Was that necessary?"

"Yeah, I'd say it was."

After that rather snappy altercation, Ross was ready to turn right around and walk off, the only thing that stopped him was the sound of Lisgoe's voice

"You a regular then? At this bar, I mean."

"Yes?"

"No clue how, the drinks are shite and everyone that goes here is a twat."

"Like me?"

That, admittedly, came out as more of an accusation than a legitimate question, and he very nearly asked him to forget it, but that was stopped when he noticed the way Lisgoe was looking at him. As if he was taking the whole of him, really studying him. Reaching into his eyes and grasping his brain, taking it apart with a scalpel to see what was inside

In a word, it was exposing. But not in a creepy way. Ross was frozen in place. Under the watchful eye of Joseph Lisgoe, he felt both anxious and completely at ease. It was a strange feeling, not unpleasant but extremely unorthodox

It was the man's voice that broke him out of his thoughts

"Nah. Well, you seem a little stuck up."

Rude

"And you dress like a secondary school History teacher."

Rude, but annoyingly accurate

"But you're not a twat like most people are." He gestured vaguely with his cigarette "You go to bars and you see all kinds of people. The ones that try to fit in. The ones that think they're God's fucking gift because they don't fit in, the ones that are so desperate to fit in they'll do fucking anything."

"And where do I fit?"

"That's the thing," Lisgoe took a puff of his cigarette "you don't really seem like the kind of guy to fit any of those boxes. You're just... you. You wear your clothes, you drink your beer. And if you don't like the band that's onstage, you don't bother watching. Unless you're making eyes at the drummer."

That last part was accompanied by a playful smirk that made Ross roll his eyes

"I wasn't making eyes at you."

"Would you rather I called it 'gawking' then?"

"I'd rather you didn't exaggerate."

"Whatever," he waved his cigarette dismissively "my point still stands. You don't give a fuck about what people say, you don't seem like the kind of guy that bends to how people think you should act. It's pretty punk."

"I'd hardly call myself a punk."

"You don't look the part, but you're more punk than most twats that wear the badges."

There was something strange about Lisgoe. For someone that spoke so casually, with such a relaxed and colloquial atmosphere, he was strangely philosophical. Contradicting, that's how Ross felt it best to describe Lisgoe

As they stood in silence, Ross' eyes were caught by Lisgoe taking out his cigarette box. Well, for some reason, was specifically watching his hands. Clearly, he wasn't new to this, and his fingers were equally as skilled. That must've been due to his drumming hobby

Why he didn't just look away, Ross didn't know, he can't recognised he was staring until he was pulled out of his trance by Lisgoe's voice

"Did you want one?"

Ross just shook his head, suddenly finding the floor fascinating. Not fascinating enough to stop his eyes from darting over at Lisgoe as he let the cigarette stay in his mouth, stretching his hands down by his sides. The tendons fidgeted as he moved his fingers, bending and shifting in a way that was almost hypnotic

He had rings on. That was how Ross excused his fascination. Silver, some had small black gems, they were quite pretty. Suited him. Suited his hands

Those hands-

"If you want a smoke, I don't mind sharing."

"I was looking at your jewellery."

"Is that right?" Lisgoe's tone was smug and biting, cigarette still in his teeth "Just my jewellery?"

Usually, Ross would just deny it and move on. And he knew he was for the best. But he watched as Lisgoe moved to stand directly in front of him, slowly reaching to take the cigarette out from between his teeth. There was something about the way his canines caught his lower lip as he smiled that caught Ross' attention and refused to let it go

"What else would I be looking at?"

"Dunno," Lisgoe's right hand jolted out to grab Ross' left shoulder, standing in front of him as he brushed his forearm against Ross' throat, causing him to let out a strangled gasp "what else could have your attention?"

Well... this is new

The eye contact between them was thick and glowing like an ember. Ross' eyes darted towards Lisgoe's forearm and he made the mistake of glancing at his shoulder. Because he was instantly met with the sight of Lisgoe's hand tightly gripping it

And that made it incredibly hard to make rational decision

"I'm not a hook-up sort of person," Ross said softly, the way he spoke sounded more like a challenge than anything else "you'll have to do more than push me into a wall to convince me to spend the night with you."

"You may not wanna hook up, but you want something." This was followed by a hand slipping down Ross' back, resting on his ass "Something a little more hands-on?"

"And you're alright with acting like this in public? Where anyone could catch you?"

"No big deal," came the drummer's response as he pulled away, which caused Ross' more disappointment than he cared to admit "part of the fun. But you look like you don't get much of that."

The glare Ross gave him caused him to laugh, and he took another smoke of his cigarette

No fun, is that what you think?

He had the decency to wait for Lisgoe to stop inhaling the smoke before tugging him in by his vest. But, just as their lips brushed, he hesitated. It felt odd. Not bad, not at all. Hell, as he heard Lisgoe exhale the smoke into the tiny space between them, Ross could feel his head spin quite pleasurably. It just wasn't what he was used to, none of it was

Oddly enough, it was as if Lisgoe could read his mind through the web of thought he was tangled in

"Could leave you alone," he said casually "just say the word and I'll fuck off. The others are probably wondering where I am anyway." A pause. As if he were trying to work out how to speak without pushing "Or... if it's publicity you don't like, my apartment's free. Up to you really."

"Logical Things To Say" setlist

"No, I've just met you"

"I have work in the morning"

"This is a very bad idea"

"We could get caught"

"Not very decent, is it?"

Ross opened his mouth and responded with the first thing that came to mind

******************************************

After a long day at work, or a long day anywhere for that matter, Lisgoe often enjoyed sitting in his car, in some secluded area, accompanied only by his thoughts and the radio

This time, however, he was in his car, in some secluded alleyway

The radio off

And his tongue down someone's throat

What a fucking night!

*********************************************

Ross' brain had been yelling at him about his complete lack of dignity as soon as Lisgoe started leading him to his car. It had been somewhat quietened by the feeling of Lisgoe's hand massaging his thigh as he drove, but it didn't leave him alone until the car was stopped and Ross felt his chin being grabbed and his head turned to face the man in the driver's seat

The man he was currently straddling the lap of, in that exact driver's seat

"Making Out With A Guy You Just Met" set list

The buzzing in your stomach at the potential for getting caught, a combination of fear and thrill

Cramped spaces that aren't exactly comfortable, but makes everything feel that much more sensual

Jesus christ, I'm making out with a stranger in the front seat of his car

All of Ross' thoughts came through as static, every time he felt Lisgoe grip at his sides, tug his shirt, run his hands across his bare skin, the static got more intense until his head was completely empty of what had happened and what might happen next. All he could focus on was cold hands on warm skin, the sound of the drummer's breathing becoming more laboured and heavy

He didn't even realise he was making gentle sounds of his own until Lisgoe broke the kiss to tell him in a breathy tone

"You sound so fucking good."

"Do I?"

Lisgoe just nodded as he pulled Ross back in, as if replying simply wasted too much time. Time he wanted to spend completely melting into him, surrounded by the combining scent of cologne and cigarettes. Strange, but somehow added to the thrill. Made it feel more rebellious

"Just realised," Lisgoe muttered against Ross' mouth, unable to pull himself away for more than a few seconds "never got your name."

"Right."

"So what is it?"

"Um, Ross."

As Ross placed a hand on Lisgoe's chest, he could feel the way a chuckle rumbled gently through him

"You didn't sound too sure, that an alias or something? Are you a spy-"

Ross put a stop to the teasing by trailing his lips along Lisgoe's jawline

"It's Ross." He said gently in his ear "Ross Gaines. And I'm an auditor at the job centre, not a spy."

As he kissed down Lisgoe's neck, taking his time as he did with most things, he could hear his saying something under his breath

"Ross Gaines. Ross Gaines."

Each time his name was said, more heat started to pool within him. The way it sounded in Lisgoe's voice wasn't quite something he'd prepared for

"It's fun to say, 'Ross Gaines' all those s sounds." Lisgoe's lips moved to his ear, nipping at the lobe "Ross..." his hand slid up his shirt, digging slightly into his skin "Fuck sake, Ross Gaines," he grabbed the hem of his trousers, moving to undo his belt "you taste so sweet."

The hissing of the sibilance, combined with the feeling of the words hitting his skin, was enough to make Ross slightly dizzy. And the feeling of his belt being unbuckled was not helping his critical reasoning skills in the slightest. The words were bubbling up through his throat, arms wrapped around Lisgoe's neck as pulled him in, as if searching for a way to distract himself. To stop himself from falling off the edge

"Ross-"

"Wait."

Lisgoe pulled his hands away, holding them up like he'd been stopped by police

"You said your apartment was free?"

"I live alone, so I'd be fucking confused if it wasn't."

That made Ross roll his eyes, laughing a little. His hands made their way to cup Lisgoe's face, looking at him with considering eyes

"Do you do this often then?"

"Not as often as people think." Lisgoe answered, his hands on Ross' hips "Yeah, sometimes I like a quick one before I go to bed, but I'm not exactly a hook-up expert. I just get horny." His hands moved slowly up his sides, sending a chill up Ross' spine "You're the first one I've invited back though, I like your company. You're hot as fuck, but you're also easy to talk to. I respect that."

"I thought it was common decency to kick the person out of bed after you're done with them."

That got a gravelly chuckle from the drummer and he let his hand travel to Ross' ass, squeezing roughly

"I like spicing things up every now and then."

"Really?" Ross, in a sudden wave of boldness, leaned in and brushed their lips together "Because I think stalling things would make it quite boring."

The sound of Lisgoe's stuttered breath bounced in Ross' head

"Was... your fucking idea." He replied with a sly smile "You changing your mind, Ross?"

"I'm allowed." He bit Lisgoe's lower lip and god! The low, raspy moan it produced caused his hips to buck, which only drew another groan from the drummer's lips "Any objections, Joseph?"

"Say my name like that again and I won't be able to fucking talk, let alone object!"

There was no more time for set lists

#reece shearsmith #league of gentlemen #the league of gentlemen #joseph lisgoe #ross gaines #gainsgoe #gainesgoe

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topgunruinedme · 2 years

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‘Surprise! - Part One

Synopsis: They don't know a lot about Bob, they make fun of him sure but he was apart of the team. Out of everyone on the team they hadn't expect Bob to be the one keeping secrets. Especially not an entire human being. Single Parent Bob x Top Gun

Master list, Part Two

Robert ‘BOB’ Floyd wasn't a man of many words, he let people walk all over him. He stuck by his pilot’s side, tagging along on bar nights but he never stayed longer than one beer. He was always the designated driver if he stayed but never once did, he ever offer any information about his family. He knew Phenix has the only girl in a group of 6 boys. Hangman was an only child, along with Rooster. Payback had a sister and grew up with Fanboy and his two brothers. Coyote grew up with Hangman on his farm.

Bob never mentioned anyone, they assumed he was an orphan. They didn't pry, it never stopped them from asking if they wanted to stay with them during home coming, he always denied it with a small smile.

But on one particular home coming Bob seemed excited for once, he brushed off their offers. That was the day the image they had painted of little sheltered Bob was shattered.

They stepped off the ship hanging back instead of greeting their families watching Bob with a careful eye. That's when it happened. The Wizzo dropped his bag to the ground and crouched as a little girl ran and jumped into his arms, “Daddy!”.

An older couple came up to bob as he hugged the little girl, his grin never falling from his face, “Hello darling”. She had his brown flowing hair that stopped at her mid back, and she had his small timid smile and green eyes.

“Annabelle! What have I told you about running off?” the older woman scolded the child who attempted to hide her face in Bob’s neck as he stood.

The child mumbled and the woman huffed unimpressed, “Face me when you speak child”.

“Sorry Granma,” the child said sheepishly as he turned to look at the woman, bob stepped forward and hugged the older woman with his free arm shaking hands with the man.

“Barbra, John. Thank you for watching her” Bob greeted them as he turned his attention back to the little girl in his arms a look of pure adoration on his face.

Barbera looked at them with a small smile “Don't worry about it darling, you know you can call anytime. I'm glad your home safe” she took her husband’s hand who nodded at the distracted man and walked away.

Bob looked up from his daughter into Phenix’s expectant gaze he signed shifting the girl higher into his arms and ducking down to grab his bag as he shifted her onto his hip, “Come on Annie, let’s go meet a few of Daddy’s friends”.

“You have a kid?!” Hangman asked when they joined the rest of the group, Bob looked confused, “Of cause I do?”.

“When were you going to tell us?” Rooster asked still slightly shocked and slightly hurt, Bob looked at them slightly worried, “I did?”.

“When?” Phenix demanded, “I knew I’d been drunk but never drunk enough to forget my Wizzo has a kid!”

Bob huffed, “I don't drink and if I do it’s never more than one, I don't stay out late and I'm always back home before 9pm”. “And we were supposed to guess from that?” Payback asked, Bob, rolled his eyes with an easy smile. “I have a photo of her in my cockpit, I assumed one of you went snooping and found it when the questions of my family stopped” he shrugged, and Hangman looked like he was about to strangle the Wizzo if it wasn't for Coyote’s grip on his arm. “We thought you were an orphan!” Hangman hissed, “I am”.

Rooster blinked, “Then who were those people with you before?” he asked with a frown, “That was my wife’s parents” Bob gave a sad smile.

Coyote pulled Hangman away for a walk while the man started muttering, “a wife! Next thing he’ll tell us is he’s secretly the prime minister of France”.

“Your wife?” Phenix asked spectrally, “and where's she?”

“Where I left her I suppose” Bob shrugged, “and where was that?” Rooster countered sarcastically, “In a gave”.

Rooster stuttered and looked at the man wide-eyed “Shit Bob”, the man talked so causally about a dead wife. Holy shit, they knew nothing about this man. He shrugged with a smile “No harm done, it’s been a while, hasn't it honey” Bob turned his attention to Annabelle who had been laying on his chest just watching them from her perch, she sent Bob a beaming smile and nodded.

“So that means your...” Phoenix trailed off, “a single parent yeah” Bob rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Daddy” a small timid voice interrupted, and he looked down at Annabelle's innocent look, “Can we get ice cream?”.

He smiled softly, “Of cause, we can darling”, Rooster clearly finding a way to escape the awkward situation cleared his throat, “I've got to get back to...yeah” he turned on his heel and fled into the crowd.

Phenix rolled her eyes at the man’s lack of tacks, “Bye Bob, goodbye honey” she smiled softly at them both before disappearing into the crowd looking for her own family.

“Well,” Bob said with a sigh picking up his pack and readjusting his daughter, “That certainly could have gone worse”. His daughter giggled, “Can I get chocolate?”.

He looked at her in pure love, “of cause, you can darling” he said softly.

#single parant #single #single dad #working dad #top gun bob #robert bob floyd #bob top gun #bob x female reader #top gun fandom #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #hard deck #top gun maverick headcanons #dagger squad #dagger team

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physicsgoblin · 6 months

Text

Ugh so I am not happy with how my @inklings-challenge story is turning out. I like the idea, don't think it's executed the best and it's not done, but I want to publish some of it anyway. Maybe sharing some of it will help. This as been a great exercise so far for me though. Any feedback is appreciated.

I fully intend to rework this into something bigger. I've got other ideas...

Anyway. Here is part of Strange Gods.

Look, you won’t be hearing telling this story at any other time, but it’s a party and I’m a little drunk. You know how it is, after almost everyone’s gone home, it’s late August and the air’s warm but it’s almost midnight and it’s got that coolness in the air, plastic chairs are huddled around a dying fire and it’s only the friends that are closer than brothers. The heart’s nocturnal. I guess this is when it comes out.

So here we are and I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you and I don’t care what you think. Well. I guess that’s not true. I don’t know if we did the right thing. But you’re not the one we have to answer to.

Since Brad brought you in with us, I guess you know we used to be a band. Strange Gods. Ever heard of it? Well, little before your time. We were never big. Mostly local shows and Metal Fests. Opened for some bigger names a couple times. We had fun, we had hair longer than our girlfriends’ and sometimes more makeup then them too. Mostly we were just guys in jeans and T-shirts with a passion for music. We fancied ourselves artists. My wife calls music “the art most like divinity”. Like how God could just speak and His words obeyed and music is a little like that. Ours was more like a sneeze than divine speech maybe but she loved it still. I still play for her, sometimes.

Oh the best part was the fans. The girls. You know how it is. You’re kinda weird in high school, a little awkward, but then you start strumming on a guitar, you say oh yeah I play drums in a band and suddenly you’re doing ok.

The worst part? The fans. We weren’t too big, but you’d get recognized every now and again. Sometimes it was all cool, just talking about music and shit. Other times people got a little weird. They thought oh, here’s someone famous, and then you’re almost not human to them anymore. But it was usually alright. And there was one in particular that I—none of us—will ever forget.

The kid was a local. Not much younger than us, but a hell of a lot more awkward. It was alright though. He wore these glasses and those kinds of shirts with full moons and yellow-eyed wolves scattered on the front and he’d sort of talk at the ground instead of at you and he loved the fact that a lot of our songs were based on local history and legend—half-hanged witches, wolves with a thirst for human flesh in winter, earth that won’t accept the dead—a lot of what you’d expect. Well this kid’s name was…I’ll call him Louis. Louis met us at Outer Realms (you know that pub on 114th?) after a very small gig, but we hadn’t been in Strange Gods for very long, so even small gigs were celebrated. Maybe we would have been more weirded out by this kid kinda staring and shyly shuffling up to us if we were sober but you know what, it was ok. Jason even let him have one of his guitar picks and we got him a beer, which he accepted enthusiastically but didn’t drink once. He said he loved having someone write songs about all the stories his dad told him as a kid. He said if we wanted more inspiration, he could help us. He collected stories, he said, the ones you whispered at sleepovers and summer camps, the ones that changed a little bit every time you told them, the ones almost nobody really believed. And we were like, hell yeah brother. That’s how Louis became our consultant for lyrics. Winter Walker, Thy Iron Refine, and Dance at the Bottom of the Sea all had songs with lyrics by him. But he never wanted credit, never wanted his name listed on the albums. He just seemed content to hang out at our house and tell us stories. Whenever we went on tour he would ask us to collect legends of the cities we visited. Brad told him he was welcome to join us but he just smiled at the ground and shook his head. He liked it here. Why would anyone ever want to leave?

Louis was friends with us for almost two years. He even spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with us since he didn’t have anyone else since his dad had died. He worked two part-time jobs, one at Seeny’s Pizza Arcade and one at the post office sorting letters, but most evenings and weekends he would come join us, sometimes bringing over a new boardgame all the way from Europe or a home-baked apple-pie (this guy could bake). Or he’d go on long walks wandering in the woods and fields outside town.

One day in November Louis didn’t show up for our usual Saturday night jam. We were working on the song Night Rite for the album that ended up being Seven Red Seeds and he was supposed to show up and work on lyrics with me and Jason. We were supposed to be filming a music video to go along with the new release and that was pretty exciting. But the kid never showed. We shrugged it off. After all, he was a bit of a loner. Besides us he didn’t seem to have any friends. He took long walks, sometimes after midnight.

Yeah. I’ll have to answer for not looking a little harder sooner.

Brad tried calling him Sunday with no pick-up. We drove down to the house that he rented from Mrs. Ozeki, but she said he want out on one of his little tramps at around 4pm yesterday, but she hadn’t heard him come in.

No, it’s alright. I’m fine, I’m just getting a little too sober I guess. I mean it’s not alright but it has to be.

We reported his disappearance after checking in with his work and learning he didn’t show up there either. The police investigated us, briefly. We were basically the only people he hung out with and maybe all the songs about murdered kings and lost whaling ships freaked them out a bit. Ultimately they ruled us out. They ruled almost everything out.

Brad, Jason, and I were all volunteers for when they swept the woods in long lines looking for scraps of clothing, his glasses, anything. I remember us all looking at each other, thinking the same thing, but Jason was the only one who said it out loud. He said, I don’t want to be the one to find his body.

The most they found when they swept the woods was his camera. Someone else had found it and we never got to see what exactly was on the film. Someone clearly has. The newspapers speculated about if it had held any clues, but any questions for the Sheriffs department was met with a “we do not believe the photographs from the victim’s camera hold any information about what led to his disappearance.” Yeah, bullshit. We heard stories around about most of the pictures just being of the few remaining winter robins, which Louis loved. And then everyone had a different version of what was on the last three. Some said close shots of a man in a red windbreaker. Some said blurry images of a great white wolf like the legends.

But the one that we all thought sounded the most real, was that of a field. You know the one near the old Pressfield cemetery? Photos of seemingly nothing but brown grass and gray skies but in the distance what looks like an enormous black bird flying near the ground. And over the last few photographs, the thing gets closer and closer, until the last picture is a smeared mess of Louis turning around, I guess to run. I don’t know for sure though. I pray to Christ I never do.

What we saw was enough.

In the end the case ran absolutely cold. They had nothing. If some psycho got him, he left no trace. If he got hurt and died of exposure, where was the body? If an animal got him, where was the blood and torn clothing? He sure as hell didn’t just ditch town out the blue.

We took a little time off from everything. It just didn’t feel right, you know, writing about death and ghost stories when our weird little friend had just become one. I’ll always wonder. If he thought, you know, this is fitting. To become what I have always chased. God I’m still drunk. Of course not. You don’t think about all the badness you write songs about until you can’t even bury someone’s son.

His uncle and a few cousins came down to collect his things and clear everything up. The oldest cousin met with us a few times, let us know that she was glad Louis had had some people here after his dad had passed away. She invited us to the little funeral they had at Salve Regina Church. Brad almost didn’t go. He gave in eventually but he sat in the back and didn’t stay afterward. No, I’d never been until then. There were moments, you know, moments where I forgot why we were there and the strange chants and the candles and the silence dropped over you like heavy night and bright day and I remember looking at the wrinkled man in black and gold and thinking, this is crazy and I think I’m wanting to be crazy too.

The priests shook our hands as we left and spoke to us about Louis and about how he would pray for us and ask the other Fathers to pray for us too. And they nodded and smiled gravely and the taller one, Father Nicholas, said, we will be happy to see you next Sunday. And Jason said we’d think about it.

Eventually we had to get going with life again. Things felt a little more somber. I mean really somber, not this adolescent misery we’d been playing with. We stopped going to Outer Realms after every work day, Brad flushed all our weed. It just felt cheap. Jason spent more time with his little sisters during his free time, Brad flew back to Chicago for a few days during Christmas to spend it with his parents. Me? I hung around. My future wife was here and that’s where I wanted to be.

It was mid-February when our producer started kicking us to get back into finishing our songs and making the music video that had been put on hold. And you know I guess without really discussing it, we knew what we wanted to do.

Dies Irae isn’t our most famous song, but I don’t care, it’s our best. When we talked it over with our producer, we drew a hard line: Pressfield cemetery. That old one where they found that kid’s camera? Yeah, that’s the one. We want it filmed there.

That’s what we said and that’s what we did. And yeah, old natures die hard, it was still over-the-top, it still had some goth-looking girls (one of whom eventually became my wife), and when we got there it was freezing and gray and brown-iced earth. It was still us and we hoped it would still be Louis.

We had a couple of days to film. On the first day Jason went for a little walk around the perimeter of the cemetery, fingers red from the cold as he held his cigarette, and when he came back around he looked a little jumpy. He said, I don’t like it here. Them birds are talking. Talking? Yeah talking. Well, laughing.

It felt weird being there again. There was a feeling in the air even from the film crew that had never been there before. One said it was bad luck to be walking around all these bodies and the only reason he was doing this was because he needed the money.

And it was weird to think that the gravestone that had Louis’s name carved into it was just a false monument.

On the third and last day it started pouring rain. Just pounding. You couldn’t hardly see a damned thing in front of you. It was the kinda rain that hurt when it hit you it was coming down so hard.

We were packing up, almost everyone had left, when Jason comes up to our pick-up and asks if we heard a weird noise. Weird noise? Well hell yeah, those girls were wild. No, he says, I ain’t kidding. Like a growl but more human. Like a scream, but more animal. Well, we kind of laugh at him, say it’s probably a cougar. And before Brad can make a joke about that—

There it is. It’s not a scream. It’s something that slices through the tombstones and rattles the eardrums so it was a sound—but of what I don’t know. I don’t know. Everyone got this look, this dead look like the world fell out beneath our feet. Nobody said a word. It sounded like it had come from somewhere in the middle of the cemetery. And there was a smell too. You know when it rains it mixes up the dirt and the plants and it just shocks you with the scent? It was like that, but as if the dirt was freshly dug and something rotten was unearthed.

And like I said, you couldn’t hardly see. Just dark blotches where the graves were blinking in and out of sight between raindrops. We just stood there, watching, listening. My heart has never pounded harder. I saw those rumors in my mind of gray skies and something big flying towards you and those are the last pictures you ever take.

Finally nothing happens and we start looking at each other, feeling like of course it was just an animal prowling around. Gosh, you had us scared man. Let’s get the hell out, let’s get back to my place, I’m cooking alfredo and Brad’s got a couple of bottles from the producer’s vineyard. Sure it was nice of him to share. Yeah actually I did get that girl’s number, the one with the green eyes? Come on, get the heat on, I’m freezing.

And we’re driving away, the noise forgotten—except Jason keeps looking out the rear window, just quick little checks. I pretend not to notice. But he twitches a couple of times, opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, but no. He keeps quiet. Eventually he stops looking and seems to relax.

I don’t stop though. And a couple of times through the sheets of rain and the obstruction of the trees, I wonder if I see something wet, dark, and shiny slinking along the road. But it’s impossible to tell.

I get up the next morning and find this thing slung across the back porch. The ground is still soaked from last night’s rain but it hasn’t managed to wash away the shear amount of blood that’s coating the concrete patio. And I need you to get this. It was so much blood. You could’ve splashed around it. My stomach almost couldn’t take it. My sense of smell certainly didn’t.

Brad and Jason got up because of the smell. They shuffled out like the dead awakened and found me staring at this thing on the porch. Jason started retching and I told him to puke in the sink. I wasn’t about to clean up this thing and then clean up after him. What the hell is it? Brad says. Who cares? It’s got to get off the porch. Looks like a malformed-newlyborn-mut or something. Maybe it got suckered by a car.

We dug it as deep as we could and it crossed my mind that, damn, maybe we shouldn’t have a thing that smells that bad, a thing that looks that rotted decomposing God knows what into the soil. And Brad didn’t say anything but I knew we were thinking the same thing. Something about it just feels wrong. Like we shouldn’t be touching it. Like we shouldn’t have even looked at it. It crossed my mind that maybe Father Nicholas could come over and do whatever it is priests do to make things clean.

The paws though, check those out. They kinda look like hands, thinking maybe it’s a raccoon but the bastards too big. Good lord, it looks almost rotten. Maybe something else dropped it off. On the porch? On my porch man? Get the hose too, we got to wash off the whole backyard after this. Get the shovel and help me out—of course we’re going to bury it, that’s just what you do. Something’ll dig it out of the trash if we chuck it in there. It looks sorry enough, that’s just what you do.

How big? Maybe about four feet long. It looked pathetic and disgusting and I didn’t tell Brad this but I almost was glad. Maybe that ain’t it. But it felt right that we had our shovels and we were digging a hole and we were going to lay this bloody pulp in it. Father Nicholas once told me about things being fitting. And I guess that’s what it was, fitting.

No, I didn’t, make that connection, between this thing and what we heard in Pressfield cemetery. Not yet. But you know how it is. You never think you’re going to get a story out of something while you’re in it.

The thing was buried and we scrubbed ourselves off and then moved on with our day. Jason seemed much quieter, but he’d been that way since Louis vanished. So maybe it was nothing.

During the night I drempt I was on a boat. It was a boat that my parents had taken me to once, on a family vacation to Main. It was white and blue and unlike that July day years ago, the sea was wine-red and wild with storm. The waves were flooding the deck and the red foam left behind looked like clumps of flesh. I was stumbling around, looking for my mom or my dad or anyone at all—but the deck was empty. I found the door that led down into the lower deck, and the wood was almost black. I put my hand against the icy door, about to push it open, but somehow through the crashing of the waves I heard a scratch, like a single long claw dragging from the top of the frame all the way down to the bottom. I pressed my ear to the door. I don’t think I was breathing. And I listened to the scratching go all the way back up and down, slowly, over and over again.

When I woke up, it was still dark and at first I was thinking I was still sleeping. The scratching sound was still ringing in my ears, and I sat up trying to shake it away. My stomach churned. The clock said 2:36 A.M. I turned my head to the small window that looked into the dark backyard and realized that the scratching noise was coming from that direction. A long, slow scratch from the top of the window to the bottom.

I wasn’t as scared as you’d think. Maybe I was still too asleep, maybe all my panic had been used up over the last few days but I found myself crawling over to the window and just—waiting. I couldn’t see jack. I hadn’t flicked on my lamp. I just waited until the scratching started over at the top and I followed it down the glass, trying to see something, anything. But all I could see was what looked like a glint of a knife and a clearly defined scratch down the middle of the pane. And that’s when it kicked in, me getting scared. Someone was dragging a Goddamn knife down my window.

The most sensible thing to do, or at least the most sensible thing my half-awake brain could think of to do, was go wake up Brad and get the rifles from underneath his bed. He was not happy. He told me I should quite drinking so much before bed, but eventually he got up, gun on his shoulder.

I kept the light off and nodded to my window. We held our breath listening. Brad got closer, looking out into the blackness. The scratching had stopped and I didn’t see anything outside. But Brad noticed the crack in the glass and suddenly looked very awake.

I’m going to go check outside, he said, and as he headed toward the back door, the one closest to my bedroom, there was a series of loud slams that sounded like a person jumping off the roof. At this point Jason was up, and he’s asking what the hell was going on and Brad told him there’s a wildcat clawing Steve’s window or some crap. I’m going to fire a shot up and scare it away.

But two things happened before Brad could slide open the back door. I hadn’t thought about it until now, but there was an familiar smell that had been growing steadily stronger, a rotten, turned-earth smell, and I couldn’t say anything except stop. Don’t open it, wait.

And Jason, stone still looking out the back window at the porch right behind the door, called out the same thing. Stop.

That’s not a cougar. You gotta look.

I’m telling you, we did look. And there was the slimy pink thing with long skinny limbs crouched in front of the back door. It looked like it had a fleshy cape on its back and it twitched as if in pain. We watched unmoving as one long claw flicked up, digging into the door, dragging it down slowly to the ground, and then repeating the act, slowly, slowly.

And you just knew, you just knew, this was the thing that wasn’t supposed to be here.

No, no way, Brad was saying, this is getting too weird. We buried this thing. We put it in the ground. And it crawled out. And we saw it. It was dead. We threw it in the hole and it got back up.

Jason was still watching the thing as it lay on the doorstep. We don’t know if it was actually dead, he said. He said it in a whisper. Well you didn’t bury it, says Brad.

***

#inklingschallenge #team chesterton #genre: intrusive fantasy #theme: burial #story: unfinished

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ltwharfy · 3 months

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"Bob's Burgers" Season 2 Episode Ranking Rewatch (Long Post)

So, I've been rewatching "Bob's Burgers" from the beginning and ranking the episodes using the spreadsheet that @babsvibes created! If you want to know why I'm doing this or how I view the 1-5 rating scale, you can check out my Season 1 post!

Now, on to Season 2:

Average (mean): 4.22

Mode (most common ranking) : 5

I hid the director and writer name categories when I took the picture to make it easier to focus on episode ratings. I will share my director and writer rankings when I reach the end of this project.

Season as a whole thoughts:

I really enjoy Season 2! I know everyone's got their own take on when "Bob's Burgers" really hit its stride, and many folks say Season 3 or later, but I'm going to say that for me, it had already hit that stride in Season 2. It was consistently funny, and I was surprised by how many lines from it were just burned in my memory- some without me even recognizing the source. (For example, before starting this project, the line: "You know what's free? Loading. Freeloading!" popped in my head. I did not know where it was from- not even what show. It's Louise in "Burgerboss".) "Mommy doesn't get drunk, she just has fun." "Don't feed a guy a sponge, Bobby." I could go on...

Seeing all the familiar faces who started showing up also really made it begin to feel like classic "Bob's Burgers" to me: we've got Zeke! Darryl! Sgt. Bosco! Mickey! Tammy! Honestly, I always think there is something fun in watching all the pieces of something begin to fall into place to create something wonderful, and Season 2 gave me a lot of that feeling.

In my season 1 review, I noted that if "Bob's Burgers" had been cancelled after that season, I would've been annoyed because I thought it showed promise but I wouldn't've viewed it as a tragedy (Season 1 of "Bob's Burgers" is no "Firefly"). But, Season 2 was really the beginning of the time period when I would've been outraged had it been cancelled. (Thankfully, it avoided being a two season wonder like "Joan of Arcadia" or "Saved by the Bell (2020 Revival)")

That said, the show was still figuring out some of the characters (especially Bob) and the overall family dynamic and show tone, which lead to the few episodes I didn't enjoy that much, including the only 2 I've issued so far.

Some thoughts on particular episodes:

"The Belchies": I remember watching this episode when it first aired and feeling like the show had clearly leveled up- it felt like it was beginning to realize the potential I saw in the first season. For some reason, I specifically remember watching the end credits- with Cyndi Lauper singing "Taffy Butt" and JJ dancing- and knowing that the show was capable of being more than it had been in season 1. Also, this episode is really the first example of one of my favorite "Bob's Burgers" episode types which is "the Belcher kids and their friends have an adventure!" And one of the great things about Season 2 is that the kids gain a number of friends- Hi Zeke!

"Bob Day Afternoon"- After this rewatch thing is over, I may try to do a top 20 or 25 list and this episode may be on that. I love it! In particular, the scene where the kids cling on to Bob as he is trying to take the burgers to Mickey and the hostages is one of the best of the series in terms of improv and the humor of talking over each other. And if I ever don't laugh at the part of Gene's Robot College fantasy where he walks in on his robo-roommate performing "routine maintenance" it's a sign that I am dead.

"Burgerboss"- This was a really pleasant surprise! While I knew those first two were two of my favorites, I just thought this one was kind of good- but on actually rewatching it, I found myself laughing the whole way through, so it gets a 5.

"Dr. Yap"- I generally enjoy Yap the character, as well as Gayle, but the two things I really love about this episode are the Gene and Louise jawbreaker subplot (it's fun watching those two get into a ridiculous competition over something stupid) and the Prince of Persuasia. The Prince is such a great parody of that horrible "pickup artist" style, and I find literally all his lines hilarious ("Never make her pancakes. Force her to make you pancakes- in the middle of the night.")

"Bad Tina"- Another episode that might make a top 25 list. Both storylines- the introduction of Tammy and Bob's obsession with "Cake"- are A+. They had already established a number of Tina's core traits throughout the first two seasons, but now with the addition of friend fiction and Tammy, her best of frenemies, it feels like they've fully got Tina down and we get the first great Tina episode (and Tina episodes tend to my favorites, even if Louise is my favorite character).

Okay, now the episodes I didn't like that much:

"Moody Foodie"- Why did I give this my first (and so far only) 2? Honestly, I thought it was overdone and dry.

Sorry, I couldn't help myself. I actually enjoy the first half of the episode. Bob's nightmare about working in an office is hilarious to me as an actual office drone. The scene where he and Louise just start yelling "overdone and dry" at passersby is great. And the farmer's market scene at the beginning has some great family banter.

And then it goes completely off the rails in the second half. The second half of the episode is "Bob Belcher and his friends and family hold a couple of dudes prisoner" which sounds more like a WTF fanfic summary than an actual episode of the show. And it's likely that this episode bothers me more now than it did when it first aired. I think they were still figuring Bob's character out and if they had ended up making him more Homer Simpson-like (prone to anger and hare-brained schemes) maybe this episode wouldn't stick out so much. Similarly, I think that all animated shows struggle a bit with figuring out how grounded in reality they are going to be. if BB had evolved into a less grounded show, this episode also might not stick out.

But it does stick out, for me at least. I just found the second half of this episode more weird and disturbing than funny (although it still had some good lines- I enjoyed Tina translating "Wet Willie" into Spanish for Pepe). If the hostage taking was a shorter part of the episode, maybe I would give it a mixed-review 3, but it is basically the main plot, and I'd rather not rewatch it.

"Beefsquatch": I don't love the physical confrontation between Bob and Gene at the end, but what stops this episode from being a 2 is that really the worst part of it (in my opinion) is actually a pretty small part of the episode. And both of them realize they were acting nuts, and their motivations seem kind-of in character to me (Bob wanted the cooking segment to be a chance to promote the restaurant, Gene wanted his performance as Beefsquatch to be the center of attention). And I just enjoy some other bits in this. "More Scotch!". Louise first enjoying than getting burnt out by her involvement in Gene and Bob's prank war. And Gene's flashback to accidentally gluing his wiener to his remote control helicopter- followed by Louise's "accidentally on purpose!" and them high-fiving. (The high-five cracks me up so much! It's such a silly thing to high-five over!)

Random thoughts (stuff that doesn't affect the ratings):

-It was fun to see the introduction of the exterminator van being different each episode after seeing "Rat's All Folks!" for all of season 1.

-Peter Pescadero is back- and he has his correct face after that weirdness in "Spaghetti Western and Meatballs"! Has anybody written a fic about why his face changed? Like "Face/Off" but with Peter Pescadero (just one idea)?

-Generally, I try not to nitpick about continuity on the show that much. I think they do a really good job, especially by standards of animated comedies (but honestly, really all comedies). But it does bug me that there is a whole episode in a later season about how Louise can only poop in her home toilet when in "Synchronized Swimming" she poops in public pool. She named it Jezebel for crying out loud! It's Bob and Linda's grand-doody! JEZEBEL CANNOT BE FORGOTTEN!

Well, clearly I've been writing for too long and have gone crazy. See you when I'm done with Season 3, whoever may be reading these!

#bob's burgers #bob's burgers season 2 #bob's burgers episode ranking rewatch #long post

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howaboutcastiel · 2 years

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The Regular Surprise (Jake Lockley)

Content Warning: Major Self-Harm Themes, Su*cidal Ideation, PLEASE proceed with caution

Summary: The OC is a waitress at a retro diner on the outskirts of the city. Life is hard and she’s struggling to cope with everything, plagued by depression and self-destructive tendencies. On the night of a big town festival, she reaches her breaking point. A familiar face at an unfamiliar time may just be her last hope. (Based on a request. Asker wishes to remain anonymous.)

Content: Angst with some resolution, substance abuse, verbal abuse (yum), extreme language. I don’t know how to describe this fic other than to say it's dark, sad, and cathartic for a select few. Fictional festival based on the one I used to go to as a kid.

Word Count: 7.0k

An Author’s Note: Please PLEASE do not read this if there’s even a chance it could be triggering to you. I have plenty of other content that you could read instead, and there’s loads of other talented writers on here that you can go and support as well. Stay safe <3

I woke up way too early.

Not that that’s out of the ordinary. I served breakfast at the diner three days a week. Today was one of them. My alarm went off at 5:00, ripping me from my sleep with absolutely no gentleness. My head was pounding, of course, but I couldn’t complain about that because it was my own choice to drink half a bottle of bourbon the night before. Honestly, all things considered, I was holding my liquor pretty well. Didn’t even feel sick.

But I did feel tired.

There’s nothing fulfilling about working at a diner at six in the morning. Sure, there are a few cheery regulars that keep you in mind, ask you about your folks and if your home loan got approved, or whatever. But they can also be so grating. When are you having kids? You’d be much better off if you found a nice man. Say, are you coming to work high? Most waitresses are on drugs, right? I can’t tip today, hope you don’t mind. We’re friends, aren’t we?

Then there’s the tourists. Grabbing breakfast on their way in or out of town, their kids screaming because they’re up too damn early and we don’t sell chocolate milk. Or the honeymooners who stuff themselves in one side of the booth, sharing their waffles with one fork. Give me a fucking break.

But when I walked into work that morning, there was one familiar face that didn’t entirely make me want to rip off my own skin. He wasn’t exactly a regular. He’d show up every morning for several days in a row, then we wouldn’t see him for weeks on end. More often than not, he wore a grey or brown flat cap and on particularly dreary mornings you could hear him whispering to himself, sometimes in Spanish. My manager had told me once to refer to him as “Mr. Lockley.” Not sure exactly why, he didn’t seem that much older than me, but she was adamant. So that’s what he was called.

Today was a double shift. I worked from 6-10, and then again from 5 until we closed at 9 o’clock. It wouldn’t have been too much of a big deal—more hours means more money, right?—save for the fact that the annual Cherry Blossom festival happened to be that night, and I really didn’t want to miss it. I’d technically have a bit of time to catch the end after my shift, but the sun would already be set and the biggest vendors and entertainers would have dipped by then. Plus, tired and drunk festivalgoers would be pestering me for some cheese fries for the whole night, and we were definitely going to run out sometime after 7 p.m.

“Morning, sugar.” Mr. Lockley put on a sleazy grin as I came to take his order. Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t one of those perverts that said rude things to his waitresses, but he had a mouth on him. A severely unfiltered one. “What’s the special today?”

“You get a piece of toast for free if you order eggs.” My owner didn’t do specials. Everyone was struggling to make ends meet around here, and creative marketing was far down on the list for a desolate joint like this. Every Tuesday was free toast, though. But that’s only because the truck came in on Wednesdays and everything in stock was going stale.

“Okay, I’ll do that, then. Two scrambled and some coffee if you have it.” He gave a tired smile, though he seemed very awake considering the time. I’d never given much thought to what he might do for work. He was so cryptic anyway, there was too much to wonder about. “And uhh… do you have turkey bacon?”

“Sorry, honey. Just regular.” He didn’t have his hat on today; I noticed for the first time that he had quite curly hair. It almost didn’t match his face, which was so contorted by stress and lack of sleep that it certainly made him look older than he was. Like I said, though, he was barely older than me, maybe ten years at most. There was no grey in his hair, but there was a bit peeking out of his stubbly beard. Don’t get distracted. He was asking for turkey bacon?

“Scratch that then, sweetheart. I don’t do regular.” He unfolded his newspaper, sliding his knuckle along his lips as he read. I wrote his order down.

“Eggs and toast, then. And coffee, coming right up.”

I pretended not to notice him staring at my ass as I walked back toward the kitchen. I know I said that he wasn’t a pervert, but he was still a man. They tend to look, and I try not to dwell on it in this line of work so long as I don’t feel unsafe. I slid the ticket to Bernie, the cook. He gave me a familiar smile. He was too old to be working still, but like I said, we’re trying to make ends meet.

The mug shook in my hand a bit as I poured the coffee for Mr. Lockley. At this ungodly hour, there weren’t too many other customers, and my coworker had already taken care of most of them. There wasn’t even a manager in yet; the owner, David, wouldn’t be here for a while. The lazy shit showed up whenever he wanted to. I brought the man his coffee.

“Thanks, sugar.” His smile was kind of offputting, not in a creepy way. He just seemed kinda unhinged. He took a sip, hissing at the heat. “¡Carajo!”

He swallowed hard, obviously having burnt his tongue. Mr. Lockley seemed embarrassed that I had seen that. He tried to distract me.

“You going to the festival tonight?” Why was I even still standing here?

“Uhh, yeah. I’d planned on it.” Now I know, you’re not supposed to tell the customers what you’re doing when you get off work. What if they’re some kind of stalker, right? But honestly, if Mr. Lockley had wanted to kidnap me or something, he’d had multiple months to decide that already. So forgive me for my vulnerable honesty. “How about you?”

“I’ll be around. But I got work tonight, so no dice.”

I don’t really remember that much of my morning shift. I had enough coffee and ibuprofen to keep the hangover at bay, but it was still the crack of dawn. Even by 10, I would have rather been in bed. But that was also largely unrelated to my shift. I spent a lot of time wishing I was still in bed.

I spent a lot of time wishing I wasn’t anywhere at all.

Of course, I was having a rough time, you know? I was a fucking waitress in my twenties, with no solid plan to get ahead and I was borderline an alcoholic. Life was just so damn exhausting. My family was no help, not that I would dare ask them for help. It takes a village to raise a child, but at the end of the day, no one in the village wants to take responsibility for the fucked up way that the kid turned out. They want to take credit when money’s tight though, and they can ask the kid to spare some of her paychecks because “hey, I fucking raised you, didn’t I?”

Yeah, no. I was going at this alone. And it was eating me alive.

On this day, I was teetering on the edge. I’d struggled with self-destructive action for most of my life. There was no one around to teach me a healthier way to deal with shit. I didn’t have the money for a habit like cigarettes or drugs; plus, I’d seen enough of the horrors of addiction through my folks. The alcoholism was an accidental thing. It had started in high school, and who was I to turn down the sleazy attention of older boys who liked to party? It was attention, and I needed that.

I didn’t see Mr. Lockley leave. I was too busy with the morning rush of all those nine-to-five people. He’d left his newspaper on the table alongside his empty plate, but at least he’d been nice enough to fold it back so that I didn’t have to. By this time, David had gotten around to coming in. What a fucking asshole, that guy. I hated the thought of making a profit for him, but I was doing all I could. Looking ahead for better days.

Except I wasn’t looking ahead.

When I say that that day was bad, I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I was about three minor inconveniences from putting a pistol in my mouth or taking a handful of Bernie’s blood pressure pills. Everything was so overwhelming as my own ambitions were underwhelming. Seriously, it was a fucking dreadful day, and I was just unhinged enough that it could have easily been my last. It very nearly was, too.

I was less than a half-hour from my shifts end when last night’s bourbon caught back up to me. I was carrying plates for a table of four, two snot-nosed kids and their wealthy grandparents on some god-forsaken vacation. Someone had spilled their drink in the floor with out telling any of the staff, and I couldn’t see it for the food in my hands. Luckily I didn’t drop the whole thing, but the grandpa’s meal was a goner as soon as my foot hit the water.

He seemed a little more upset than was necessary; entitled boomer thinks its cute to yell at the wait staff. I just kind of stood there and took it, numb to being berated by customers at this point. It wasn’t that that made the first strike, though it did start there. No, it was fucking David’s reaction to the whole experience.

“You fucking watch where you’re walking.” He was spitting at me in the back room. “Gonna keep losing money by working your clumsy ass here. Don’t think I’m gonna forget how often you show up off your game.”

That wasn’t fair and he knew it. I never showed up to work drunk, even if I desperately wanted to. He couldn’t hold against me what I did on my own time off. I did have some respect for my job, though admittedly not much. I knew I couldn’t afford to be fired right now.

“I don’t want to see those goddamn tears.” Of course I’m gonna cry. You’re tearing me a new one. “Wipe that shit off your face. I swear to God, you fuck up again tonight and you’re out of a job. You hear me?”

I knew he wasn’t gonna fire me, but I nodded. He needed the help, and with his attitude it was unlikely he could hire a new waitress to replace me in a timely manner. He let me off my shift after that—I don’t think he could stand to see my face anymore. So I sauntered off to my car, not even saying bye to Bernie, and certainly not stopping to ask if that table needed anything else.

See, this is where I knew it was bad. I would have seven hours before returning for my shift. I should have done something really therapeutic, like treat myself at a coffee shop or gone window shopping at an antique store. But I couldn’t be bothered to do that. I shut myself into my car, not bothering to turn on the radio or even the AC. For a little while I didn’t turn on the engine, I just let myself continue to cry until no tears were left. I was really so goddamn tired.

I know that I shouldn’t have done what I did next, but like I said, I was never taught better. That excuse only goes so far, doesn’t it? Either way, I did what I did and I gotta own up to that. When I couldn’t use alcohol to numb myself—say, because I had another shift to stay sober for—I would simply amplify the pain. It wasn’t logical, really, but it made me feel like I was in control. If the world was gonna hurt me, at the very least, I could do it better.

So that’s what I did.

Like I said, I don’t smoke. The smell alone is so offputting to me and I can’t support the habit in this economy. But I did have a lighter in my car. You know, the one that comes in the little charging port thing? I don’t know exactly where I got it, maybe it came with car when I bought the damn thing. Regardless, it was perfect for this. I knew that. It wasn’t the first time that I’d done it.

I had a little line of scars right above my waist. A nasty habit, I know, but it’s better than shooting heroin I guess. It was the same concept as drugs; it fucked with my hormones in just the right way, gave me an adrenaline rush. So I pressed the little lighter into the skin right across from my belly button. It hurt like shit. Of course it did.

And then I did it again. I don’t know exactly how many times, but I remember that it made me feel better. No, it decidedly made me feel worse, but at least I was feeling something. Also, my headache was magically gone. Either that or my brain just wouldn’t allow me to process both at the same time.

I sat there for a while. Then I got a fucking call from David.

“I need you to switch shifts with Miranda.” He didn’t ask. He just told.

“Why?”

“Just do what I say. She’s got a family emergency or something. I need you to come in at three. You’re off at seven.”

Maybe the day wasn’t so shit after all. I could make it to the festival for sure, now. I was hell-bent on a candy apple at least, as well as one of those plates of fried Oreos. I didn’t care that they would probably make me feel like shit.

Well, then. That brought seven hours of free time down to five. What to do? Go back to my apartment I guess. So I did. I didn’t do much else, just used my time to make myself lunch, pay some bills and do some dishes that my roommate had left in the sink. The time went by pretty fast from there. Except for when my mother called. It went painfully slowly for that.

I could already tell when I got back to the diner that the shift wasn’t going to end well. Strike one had hit me like a fucking train. I would say that the second was already halfway struck, just from the rain that followed me up to the door. It was gonna clear out by sunset, though. The festival was going to be dry. And warm.

David looked as annoyed as ever to be blessed with my presence, but he didn’t say anything to me as I clocked in. Three is one of those weird hours where hardly anyone is there. If anyone, a few teenagers would stop by on their way home from school. Or camp. Or wherever.

The monotony wasn’t good for me. Even if the seating area was empty, David forbade me from being on my phone. Just one of those things, don’t look like a piece of shit while you’re on the job. Doesn’t matter who sees.

Strike two happened suddenly. Around 6, some dirty executive thought he was being funny and pinched my ass. I don’t put up with that shit. I politely told him to leave. Well, as polite as could be reasonable.

“Awe, I’m just poking fun, sweet thing. Say, what time you get out of here?” His teeth were yellow and gross. He was with some buddies from work who thought he was the funniest person in the room. I wasn’t impressed.

“I don’t disclose that information.” He frowned. His eyes were bloodshot, but not in a drunk way. A different kind of way. It was scary. “Now I need you to leave. We don’t tolerate physical harassment here.”

“Harassment? Now you’re being shy on me? I can’t help you look so good, sweetheart.”

God help me for what I’m about to do.

“Dave!” I yelled just loud enough to startle the man closest to me. His friends shut up real fast as David walked into the room, pissed as all hell that I’d bothered him. The pig wasn’t amused.

“There’s no need for that, sugar.” He grimaced at David and patronizingly scoffed at me.

“What’s the problem here, sir?” David put on his customer service voice with absolutely no intent of keeping it on. As shitty as he was, he didn’t fuck around with creeps. I tried to steady my breath.

“This man grabbed me under my skirt. And he refuses to leave.” I didn’t have to look Dave in the eye for this. Thank God for that, at the very least. The ugly man’s friends looked like deer in headlights, but he just looked smug.

“Yeah, no. Get the fuck out.” That’s what I thought.

“You’re gonna talk to a customer like that?” The man was shocked that another guy would dare call him out like that. What an absolute fucking pig.

“You’re not a customer anymore. Get out. All of you, as a matter of fact.” Save for Bernie and himself, everyone who worked under David was a young woman. He’d gotten used to sending perverts on their way, and he’d walk me to my car if he absolutely had to, but he wouldn’t be happy about it.

He wasn’t happy about losing the business, either. Even if the people leaving were the scum of the earth. He side-eyed me for the remainder of my shift, as if I’d somehow tried on purpose to seduce the man.

And then we make it to strike three.

It’s a goddamn lucky thing that I don’t own a gun. Or sleeping pills. Or anything else I could overdose on. But do not get me fucking wrong, I was determined by the end of the night, as tragic as that sounds.

My shift ended and there was no sign of the men, so David didn’t bother to stick around. He wanted to see the festival, too, and he never stayed until closing anyway. It was dusk when I got outside. There was enough light to see, but not enough to feel safe.

And my fucking car wouldn’t start.

I started sobbing on the spot. Visceral, ugly, snotty crying that made it hard to breathe in. It was the second time today that I had cried in my car. It was my absolute breaking point. I was a mess. An illogical mess.

I punched the steering wheel until I was sure I had bruised my hand. After that, I held my head in my hands until the tears were all gone. Not because I felt better, but because there wasn’t anything left. The headache was back now, by the way. There was no way in hell that I was walking from here. I wasn’t going to the festival either.

I wasn’t going anywhere.

I was so done. Really, truly done. Realistically, I don’t think I would have done anything to hurt myself—in the permanent way, I mean. But the thought was at the forefront of my mind. Images flashed through my head. How would I do it? Would it be quick? I wasn’t thinking logically. I was struggling to think at all.

Okay, here’s what I need to do. It’s too fucking far and cold for me to walk back home. I’m gonna call a cab.

Cab’s didn’t stop too often near the diner. I wasn’t in the city-center, but I was close enough that they would find their way there every half hour or so. At least, that was what I thought. In reality, there happened to be a cab right then and there. It was parked on the other side of the block.

I waved it down, noticing a silhouette in the front seat. Maybe he was on his break? I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I had wiped the tears and other stuff from my face, but the aggression of the sobs had left me a complete wreck. My head was pounding, my tongue was stiff and dry. My stomach still burned.

The cabby pulled over to me.

I checked the window just to make sure that it wasn’t some kidnapping scheme. That’s not unheard of, and with my luck that’d be the cab that found me. Sure enough, though, the cab was registered legitimately. I sighed in relief as I opened the door.

“Where to?” He met my eyes in the mirror, but I didn’t look back at him. That is, until he turned his head to me. “You having car trouble or something?”

I knew the face staring back at me. This was not in my plan for the night. I didn’t know how to feel.

“Yeah, I am.” He looked just as confused as me. He was wearing his hat now. I noted that. “I didn’t know you were a cabby, Mr. Lockley.”

“Call me Jake.” He was still turned to look at me. I felt myself blushing at the way he was peering into me. “Now, come on. Where to?”

“My apartment. I guess.” I gave the address. This was unexpected, but it didn’t change anything. It was a weird feeling, though. Vulnerable. I felt ashamed to be involving him in my shitty, self-destructive night. At the time, what I was half-convinced was my last one.

“I thought you were going to the festival, señorita.” He looked prettier in the fading light. I couldn’t see the circles under his eyes.

“Change of plans.” He furrowed his brow, but turned back toward the front. He didn’t start the meter.

“This one’s on me, yeah?” It almost sounded like pity. That’s great, I really wanted that.

“No, Jake. I can’t accept that. I’ll pay.” There’s that line in that Alanis Morissette song, right? A free ride when you’re already late. That’s kind of what this was like. Was the universe trying to stop me, or trying to mock me?

“¡tonterías! If you can’t afford a tow truck, I doubt you can afford a cab ride.” Okay. Mocking me, for sure.

“Don’t rub it in.”

“This one’s on me.” He repeated, slower. Then he put the car into drive. Fine, work for free. That doesn’t change my night. It doesn’t matter anyway.

If I had more sense in my head, I would have seen that he noticed how dreadful I was. My mascara had run, not completely wiped away to the best of my ability. My shirt was untucked, my hair was a mess, and the crescent moons on my palms were leaking blood. Not that I’d noticed that. I had spiraling tunnel vision.

What was I going to do when I got home? The thoughts were jumbled and racing through my mind, but I was too exhausted to catch all of them. I was crawling in my skin, half-convinced that I was possessed or something, but I also felt numb. The kind of calm you feel when you have nothing to lose.

I didn’t own a gun. There weren’t any pills. There wasn’t any rope. But there were… kitchen knives? None of the thoughts stuck around too long, they just played themselves on a loop, attacking my brain.

“You seemed excited about that festival. What’s keeping you?” His voice rang in my ears. My head was hurting so bad.

“I’m just tired.” I lied. I couldn’t tell that he saw right through that. He was too observant for his own good. I pulled my flask from the bottom of my purse.

Yeah, I know. This was certainly a wrong move. Jake Lockley was upset by this, for sure.

“Hey, no open bottles in my cab.” I hadn’t even gotten the damn thing to my lips. I thought I’d try to be cute with him.

“It’s not a bottle. It’s a flask.” I downed a swig before shutting the lid.

“Put it away.” Whatever, man. I pushed it back down in my purse, not hiding the way I rolled my eyes at him before doing it. The calm was warping into something else, but I didn’t know what. The possessed feeling wasn’t going away, though.

“You worked a long shift today, huh? Considering I saw you here at the crack of dawn.” Why was he trying to make small talk? Just leave me alone. You and the rest of the world, leave me alone.

“Wasn’t here the whole day. Opening shift and closing one, supposed to be anyway.” I just mumbled the first words in my brain. He was asking a lot of me in this state.

“The diner closes at nine.”

“Like I said, supposed to be.” Why did he know that the diner closes at nine? That’s a weird thing to remember, especially for someone who only shows up for breakfast. Maybe it’s a cab driver thing. They know the open and close of places around.

“It’s a little early for you to turn in, then. Why don’t I drive you on to the festival and let you have some fun?” You’re overstepping, Mr. Lockley.

“I said to take me home.”

“So you can do what exactly? Drink alone?” I was starting to feel uneasy. I’d never made small talk with this man beyond when he ordered his food. Now he was flirting with me? Or calling me out? I didn’t exactly know. Weirdly enough, I felt safe, but I also felt exposed.

“That’s none of your business.” We were almost at my apartment. He slowed to a stop, not yet close enough for me to get out of the car. He looked angry. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not sure I should let you leave.” He didn’t say it in a creepy way. I know that’s hard to believe. How could he say that and it not be creepy, right? But I immediately knew what he meant.

“You gonna kidnap me then?” I didn’t have the energy for this. And it wasn’t any of his business anyway.

“That depends. Will that keep you alive?”

“Okay. I think you’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?” He couldn’t possibly know what was in my head. I hadn’t even made the decision yet myself. This man was way outside of bounds here, but I couldn’t prove him wrong. We stared at each other for a long time.

“Let me take you to the festival.” Why did he care so much about this? About me?

“Why does it matter to you?” Just leave me alone. Just leave me alone. Just leave me alone. I don’t want to be here.

“I have a conscience, you know.” He talked to me like a dad might. That really made me feel bad. “I can’t drop you off here if I think you’re in danger. I can’t live with that.”

“Why do you care? I’m a stranger to you.”

“Just come to the festival with me.” Jake’s eyes were pleading. That instantly made him look younger. A lot younger. Child-like.

God damn him.

“Fine. Don’t do anything weird, though. I have pepper spray.” That was a lie. I did not.

Cherry blossoms lined the street where the vendors were parked. I could smell the carnival food before we even got to the point of the roadblock. Jake Lockley parked the car, coming around to open my door for me.

“Wait, aren’t you on duty or something?” He took my hand to help me up. What a gentleman. I think I should feel thankful for that. If only I could be bothered to feel.

“I drive a cab. I can work when I want.” He put his arm around my waist for support and I tried to conceal how his hand set me on fire as it touched my burns. I couldn’t be bothered to hate the gesture, though. It was the sweetest touch I had felt in a long time. I’m pretty sure he was only holding on to keep me from making a run for it. Jake was convinced I was a danger to myself.

The street lights illuminated his face in a new way. He looked a lot more vulnerable in the dim crowd, but he held himself with confidence. I got the feeling that I was safe with him. I noticed now that he was wearing gloves. That made sense for a cab driver, right? They had crescent moons on them, little white shapes right on the knuckles, disturbing the black of the leather. What an odd little thing.

“Is there something, in particular, that you want to see?” He led me down the street with his hand barely grazing my side, but I was firmly in his grasp. The lights were too bright. The crowd was too noisy. I couldn’t concentrate.

“I always get a caramel apple.” I tried to search my brain for what I’d normally be doing here. I was elated before, right? There had to be some ideas floating around in there somewhere. It was hard to find any, though.

“Okay. Let’s get one, then.” For all it was worth, I could have been drunk. I’d had the one swig of booze, but my state of mind was far gone regardless of that. That was probably a good thing. I couldn’t make any rash decisions if I couldn’t think at all. I turned my head to him as we made our way through the swarm of people.

Why was he so concerned? Sure, he knew me from the diner, but I meant nothing to him. Just some waitress in the background of his life. He could have just dumped me at my place and let whatever was going to happen go ahead. But he didn’t, and I couldn’t understand why.

“Two caramel apples, thanks.” I heard him say to one of the vendors, but I was so out of it. I reached for my wallet, but he swatted my hand away. That’s on him, too, I guess. I kept my eyes on his face.

He was a fairly short man. Not that there was a problem with that, I had just expected him to be tall. Mr. Lockley had the energy of someone with a bigger physical presence. He was some kind of tan, maybe Mexican? He spoke Spanish, I knew that. He must be some kind of Latino, then, I guessed. I didn’t really dwell on that thought, but he was pretty, whatever he was.

Yeah. He was pretty. His face was pretty, his curls were pretty, his muscles were pretty, and these thoughts were those of a deeply tired, not-thinking-straight woman. I felt warm at the idea that he was my arm candy tonight. Even if he was holding me against my will so that I didn’t try to off myself.

I don’t think he liked that I was staring. He handed me my apple and ushered me over to the tent-covered benches that were set up for people who wanted to eat sitting down. There was music coming from the stage nearby. Not good music, but it was live music, which was something. He paid it no mind.

“How are you feeling?” Jake had that same child-like look from before. Was he that worried about me? I let my mouth continue to act before my brain, as it had gotten me this far.

“I don’t know. The music sucks, though.” I took a very large bite of my apple. I kept talking, even with the food in my mouth. “You’re kinda rude, y’know. What kinda cab driver gets to pick the rider’s destination? That seems… abnormal.”

“The kind that’s not taking your shit. Look me in the eye and say you weren’t going to hurt yourself.” What a nosy motherfucker.

“Maybe I was. What does that have to do with you?” He kind of blushed when I said that, which made me feel powerful. I made Mr. Lockley blush.

“You think I could live with myself if I dropped you off knowing I could have stopped you from that?”

“I don’t know. You’d have gotten over it. I’m just a waitress.”

“No you’re not.” He blushed even deeper, taking a bite of his own caramel apple. I was stuffing my face, the sugar making me feel better as it took away some of the cloudiness.

“What do you mean?”

“Well… you’ve served me breakfast a hundred times.” Even he didn’t seem convinced by that answer. I scowled at him.

“Yeah. That still makes me just a waitress.” It was amusing to see him stumble on his words. As the sugar reached my head, it brought energy elsewhere, too. Particularly to my aching stomach.

“Can you just not act disposable for one second? You’ve got to mean something to someone.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Yeah. I really don’t think that’s true.” He took a patronizing bite. How that was possible, I’m not sure. “I’d surely miss your pretty face over my coffee.”

“Someone else can serve you coffee.” I was kind of getting pissed because he cared. Why did he get to care when I didn’t?

“I don’t think I want that, though.” This was pointless. I just wanted to go home, still. Though I was beginning to want something else, too. I tried to distract him.

“What else is there to do here?” I hadn’t thought that one out. The festival had lots of vendors, but it seemed a lot less vibrant than I’d imagined it would be.

“Dunno. You want me to win you a stuffed animal?” Now there’s a thought.

“I’d certainly like to see you try.”

I learned a lot of swear words in Spanish over the next half-hour. More than would ever be useful, that’s for sure. But the man did it. It cost him three times what the stuffed monkey should have cost, but he did it. I found myself giggling at the way he so clearly felt he was above the rigged dart-throwing game. He was giggling, too, in between the swears. I don’t think he’d played a carnival game in a long time.

He did that thing where you talk to the stuffed animal like it’s a person. I don’t know if he thought it would be funny or if he was pissed about spending so much money on the game. Whatever the reason for it, I was entertained.

“You are more trouble than you’re worth, pequeño.” He stuck his pointer finger into the belly of the toy, a playfully stern look on his face. “You’re not even that cute.”

“He’s the one I wanted, though.” I took the monkey out of Jake’s gloved hand. Really, what was up with the gloves? The plush toy felt cheap in my grasp, but he was meaningful. “What should I name him?”

“el cabrón,” Jake muttered under his breath, grinning. I didn’t know that word, but from the cheeky tone in his voice I had to go with no on that one.

You know how they say that adrenaline drains everything from your body? I didn’t know it, but that was what was happening here. I’d gone through so many emotions through the day, and so many cups of coffee, too. The devastating tiredness had plagued me from the cab ride to the apple truck, and now there was exhausted giddyness. When I say that I could have been drunk, that’s truly the most accurate description. They say sleep deprivation mimics inebriation. By that metric, I was nearly at the black-out stage.

I was holding on to him like a little girl as we walked back to the cab. There was an unspoken agreement, I guess, as he saw how fucking tired I must be. He had to be pretty tired, too. The sky was totally dark at this point, and both of us had been awake since before the sun had come up this morning.

“Why don’t you sit in the front, cariño?” He asked me gently. I followed his request, hopping in the front seat as he opened the door for me. Jake was still treating me like something fragile. I didn’t really have the frame of mind to realize that I was. There were just isolated thoughts swimming around.

We took the entire ride in silence. I guess there wasn’t much that either of us really had to say. I ran my hand along the thread of the monkey toy; I had decided to name him Button because of his eyes. I don’t know. Drunk thoughts. The thread felt soothing under my skin.

He turned off the engine when he got to my drive. I raised by eyebrow at him, but he had one of those looks like it wasn’t really up for debate. My tongue felt like it was stuck in my throat.

Jake didn’t take my hand or open the door for me this time. He just let me lead the way up the steps with the keys in my hand. I know I should have felt more uncomfortable about the whole thing than I actually did. My roommate wasn’t there; I don’t know where she was gone to. We only lived together for the money. We didn’t make conversation that much.

“Do you want something to drink?” I mumbled at him as he followed me through the door. At least I had done the dishes, so the place wasn’t a total wreck. My roommate’s cat meowed angrily at me as we made out way into the living room. She probably hadn’t fed him all day. Jake’s eyes lit up at the sight.

“Who’s this little princesa?” He bent down to scratch the cat’s head, swooping him up into his arms. The little bastard drank in the attention.

“Artichoke. He belongs to my roomy.” I plopped onto the couch. I would feed him before bed. Not right now, I was too tired.

“My bad, man. Eres el gato más bonito que he visto.” Jake’s lips parted over his teeth, his eyes crinkled in a wide smile. Arty was purring under his touch. I’d never seen such a soft smile on Mr. Lockley’s face.

I was starting to really like this man. Sure, I’d seen him lots of times before, but it was so impersonal and he was normally much cruder in the way he spoke. I guess I’d given him a good scare. My mind was out of spiralling thoughts, but the chaos lingered in spite of the absence of self-destructing tendencies. He sat down beside me, and Arty leapt off the couch.

I thought of one thing that might make me feel better. Might make me feel something.

I fucking tackled that poor man. I smashed my lips into his, pushing my weight over top of him. My hands found their way to his hair. He was shocked for a second, then he reciprocated for another before pulling back altogether. His grip was surprisingly strong, and suddenly I was separated from him.

“Don’t do that.” He didn’t look angry at me, but he did dawn a look of disappointment. I fucking hated that look. Jake’s arm held me away from him.

“Why not? I know how much you stare at me when you come by to eat.” It was true. He never hid how he ogled at me. Like I said, severely unfiltered. That didn’t mean he was a bad man.

“You’re not in your right mind. I didn’t come here for that.” I winced as he stood up off of the couch, tugging off his gloves. His face and neck were bright red. He threw the gloves on the kitchen counter, right beside my bottle of whiskey.

“Consider it payment for the ride.” I reached my hand out to him, signalling him to come back. He just stared down at me. “It’s not like I’m drunk.”

“But you’re not thinking straight.” He ventured into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. He poured me one, too, and I noticed his fingers tense against the cold of the glass. Jake walked over to me and handed the cup down to my hands, which I was noticing by now were very weak with exhaustion. I took a sip, carefully.

“What are you here for then?” I don’t know exactly what I wanted him to say. He was there, though, and that mattered a lot. He really didn’t have to be there.

“I don’t know. I want to make sure you’re safe.” I couldn’t fault him for that. He’d given me a free ride, bought me dinner, won me a prize, and then he’d endured my unwanted advances. It would have been quite rude of me after that to repay him by hurting myself.

“How long are you gonna stay?”

“Until I’m sure.”

And that’s what he did.

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