#joe was that guy who everyone wanted to fuck

[chai-berries]

all my friends support palestine and know neil druckmann is a zionist

A Kiss for The Ping Pong Champ (#22)

when manny said he was planning on throwing a party that night, he didn’t tell abby that it was gonna be at their apartment. so when she comes back home, covered in mud and twigs from a dumbass mission she willingly signed up for, it’s to a party in full swing and spilling out of their front door. the mission was a basic one and abby got pretty filthy but she’d take just about anything that means exploring zombie filled treasure troves. her side of the room is steadily filling with books and pins and little trinkets. she had her current “best find yet” in the breast pocket of her jacket.

abby first hears the party from the stairwell and she practically stalks towards the front door, tired and irritated but not surprised. manny and abby have both hosted parties in their penthouse apartment plenty of times in varying amounts of success. it’s just abby forgot about it and had made plans with you and now they’re fucked.

she smiles politely at everyone she walks to her bunk. grabbing her shower caddy and some clean clothes, she sneaks back out and into the communal showers.

twenty minutes later, abby is clean and back in the packed apartment. manny greets her with a wave and she responds with a prominent middle finger and a sarcastic smile. he cackles, startling the girls beside him.

she gets herself a drink and finds some guys from the gym that she sometimes trains with. one of them, joe, was defending his poorly made joke to abby and the others when abby sees movement from the corner of her eye.

“uh excuse me please?” abby fully turns to see you scooting awkwardly past a group of people. you meet her eye and grin, shouldering past the last person and are soon within her reach.

“hi,” you breathe

“hi,” abby echos.

you look around the party. “i didn’t know there was gonna be this many people when you asked me to come over. i thought it was just gonna be us —”

abby itches to touch you. the itch wins and she gently puts a hand on your shoulder. you stop talking.

“i honestly had no idea about the party. i’m just as surprised as you. do you wanna leave?” abby looks up to see where manny is.

“no,” you say a little too quickly. “i’m cool with staying if you are.”

you share a smile.

“ok then let’s get you a drink. nothing spectacular but they are interesting.” she leads you over to a table where people are mixing up drinks. she goes past all the mixes and shitty liquor and pulls a small bottle out of a box.

“here,” she hands it to you. “it’s wine. from 1993. you said wine ages well and you’ve been wanting some since last christmas sooo” she trails off and suddenly feels like she shouldn’t know that you like wineries and napa valley history and god she’s so weird but you’re smiling at her so that has to be good sign, right?

“abby, this is amazing! thank you,” is all you say but the relief that fills abby is embarrassing. this time it’s your turn to lead you both to abby’s little corner in the front of the penthouse. everyone is mostly in the upper stairs area, besides nora and leah who wave at you both as you pass by. you sit down on abby’s bed and she follows. a silence passes between you as the party becomes ambience. abby remembers her surprise and reaches into her jacket’s breast pocket. she closes her fist around the item and scoots back so her back leans against the wall and her feet hang off the bed. you follow her movement with your eyes. she makes eye contact with you for a brief second. you note that she looks bashful.

“i, uh, found you something while i was out.”

“yeah?” you turn to sit sideways on her bed, one leg tucked under you.

“you gotta close your eyes first.” you close your eyes and hold your hand out, a big smile on your face. what you can’t see is that abby is easily caught off by your smile and almost misses dropping the mysterious item into your hand.

“okay you can open your eyes now.” you do so.

in your hand is a necklace. a long gold chain and a pendant. you untangle the necklace and hold it up. the pendent is the letter of your first name. the necklace as a whole is in pretty good condition with only a little chip on the pendent.

“oh abby,” you look up and see the girl blushing. “this is so sweet! i love it. thank you.” regardless of how uncomfortable it will be, you lean forward to hug abby tightly. “thank you again, abs” you whisper and kiss her cheek before pulling away.

you quickly undo the clasps and ask abby to put the necklace on you. after a failed attempt of putting it on while sitting, you both stand up. you turn your back to abby and she very ceremoniously places the necklace on you. once it’s clasped you turn back around to face her. you reach up to adjust the pendant so it sits in the middle, by your sternum.

when you look up, abby is already smiling at you. she opens her mouth to say something when someone calls her name.

she rolls her eyes and answers with a reluctant “yeah?”

it’s joe again. “it’s raheem’s birthday and he wants a beer pong rematch.”

“right now? i’m busy.” she glances at you.

“yes now. he heads out on that week long mission tomorrow morning.”

abby closes her eyes and lets her head fall back. it’s raining outside and she can hear the rain above her head. she exhales heavily through her mouth. she looks back at you and you have the most understanding eyes in the world and abby both hates and loves it.

“okay,” she says to joe. “one game and he gets the bad beer and im taking that nice stuff.”

joe holds his hands up. “righto, captain.”

abby rolls her eyes again. she looks back at you. “this okay? just one game and they’ll leave me alone.”

you roll your own eyes but there’s a smile on your lips.

“abs it’s fine. i promise. now go, because i think joe is coming back over here.”

and sure enough he was. abby briefly squeezed your hand before heading up the stairs. you walk over to nora and leah, who have been joined by a happy drunk whitney. they were getting up to join you to watch abby kick reheem’s ass, all of you making up abby’s cheer squad.

the cups and sacred ping pong balls are already set up. you make sure to stand where abby can see you and you can see her. and she makes sure to wink at you before shooting the first ping pong of the game right into one of raheem’s cups. the boy groans loudly and his friends cheer on abby. abby holds her hands up, shrugging off the attention. you bite your lip to stop smiling at her antics. your eyes catch movement as she pulls up the sleeves of her henley to her forearms, making her arms look even bigger. pulling the sleeves up also shows off her bracelet collection. including one that you made her months ago. she’s never taken it off so it’s worn and faded. but the sentiment is still there and it makes your heart ache with love for her.

while raheem takes his time aiming, you continue watching abby as she stretches her arms over her head and twists her upper body back and forth. you suddenly remember that abby just came back home from an overnight mission and there were currently over twenty, mostly drunk, people shoved into her apartment. she’s probably exhausted but putting on a good show for these people that look up to her. you make a mental note to ask her if she wants to come back to your place until the party’s over. your room is smaller but ten times quieter. you continue to zone out a bit, watching abby while thinking about abby as the game continues in front of you.

unfortunately (but fortunately for you) everyone knew the end score pretty quickly. abby had four out of six cups left on her side while raheem had two left on his. the crowd was engaged in the action like it was a tennis match. manny had even moved to stand beside abby as her right hand man. your eyes stay locked on her.

it was raheem’s turn and everyone watches as his ball hits the rim of the cup but bounces away. the crowd groans for him. abby steps up and without even trying, sinks the ball into the cup closest to raheem. the crowd cheers. raheem goes again and makes it. abby downs the cup and wipes away the little bit that missed her mouth with the back of her hand. she picks up a ball and closes one eye to aim it perfectly before letting it go. the ball arches in the air and lands in its target.

the people cheering for abby lose their minds. manny starts to shake abby excitedly. joe and a few of the other boys from before surround her. you hear manny say something about getting abby “a drink fit for champions”. you watch abby smile and joke with her friend until the crowd by the alcohol table blocks her from you.

beside you, nora clears her throat. you stop searching for abby and look to nora.

she’s fighting off a smile.

your brows furrow in confusion. “what?”

nora shrugs. “i don’t know. i just wanna know when did you get thirsty? where did my innocent friend go?”

“what are you talking about?”

“c’mon. you are so obvious. you were practically undressing abby during the whole game. we are in public, girl. have some class,” nora laughs.

you look down. “i’m not undressing her with my eyes,” you mumble. nora scoffs

“i don’t know why you are so in denial. you have the girl,” nora’s eyes move over your shoulder. “and speak of the devil and she shall appear. hey abs! congrats on demolishing raheem! i just know he’s going to be sulking about this in the clinic for months.”

abby shrugs. “all in a day’s work.” she turns to you. “you okay?”

you smile at her. “yeah i’m fine. nora was just bullying me.” you pout. abby’s head swivels to nora who has the common sense to be already walking away with leah and whitney shuffling behind her. “it’s fine. it wasn’t serious.”

abby looks back towards you. “okay…do you wanna get outta here? i feel like if i stay, someone is gonna wanna challenge me again or something.”

“yeah! i was just gonna ask if you wanted to come to my place? ya know, until the party clears out.”

abby blushes. “yeah i’d love to. let me just grab my bag.” she moves to go down the stairs but stops at your hand grabbing her bicep.

“wait abby?”

she stops a step below you. “yeah?”

she is taller and generally bigger than you because of her muscles but having her be a step down makes it easier for you to cup her face and very gently press your lips to hers.

the gentle kiss is met with abby’s own passionate response. she reaches for your waist. your hands go from her face to her neck and then down to her shoulders.

you pull away first. “and that’s a kiss for the ping pong champion”

abby opens her eyes and hums in response. she squeezes your waist and let’s go, walking down the stairs to grab her bag. when she comes back she simply takes your hand in hers and interlaces your fingers.

just like the way she arrived, abby smiles politely at people who say hi but doesn’t stop walking until the sounds of the room fade away and she can only hear you and the sounds of both of your feet along the hallway.

#ITS FUCKING 2K WORDS ??? LMAOOO #if you are reading this — hi 🫵🧡🤍🩷 #abby anderson x reader #abby brainrot era #mads’ headcanons #abby anderson x you #abby anderson fluff #the number game #number 22

[lithominium]

Ouhghhh im getting frustratedddd

Listen, im just a pilot. I know nothing about politics, i know nothing about anything but how to identify a critical engine using P.A.S.T. and how to read a fucking airspeed indicator.

But lets talk a little bit hypothetical for a second. Okay. Cool. Biden sucks as bad as trump. Lets say that. Lets say they equal the exact same amount of badness as each other

What in the FUCK is your plan? Whats your plan???? Vote Kennedy? The guy who hates vaccines? Vote some third party candidates that nobody’s heard of? Blow up the senate? I know damn well youre not doing that, because people would have already, and violence isn’t a god damn solution and you fuckers know it.

So what now? Whats your wonderful beautiful plan to keep everyone safe? I Really want to know so i can help, because last i checked, voting fucking matters no matter what, and despite joe being literally genocidal, if democrats win one more time the gop will lose their shit and Hopefully!! Explode, allowing maybe actually decent fucking candidates into office in a later date

Maybe joe biden will die! Maybe we wont have Supreme Court members resign, leaving a republican supreme court for a really long time! Maybe things will get slightly fucking better and not significantly worse!!!!

Jesus FUCKING christ

#us politics #vote blue no matter who

[miss-spookhead]

the gator tillman tag here is so funny like why tf are you guys so surprised that he’s written as a confederate sympathizer and not an uwu loserboy angel with daddy issues. hes a fucking cop in rural minnesota.

#gator tillman owns a confederate flag??? fork found in fucking kitchen come on guys #like i was just as excited as everyone else to see joe keery play another failboy but i knew from the start that i wanted that twink dead #not that im mad at anybody over this whats worse is the people who still want to fuck him honestly #like i cant imagine anything more nightmarish than getting handcuffed onto a bedpost by an incel with a dont tread on me flag #gator tillman #fargo fx #fargo season 5 #fargo s5

[dickgirlsdaily]

Fundamentally, if the democrats lose the presidency in 2024, it will not be because of "voter apathy" or "the idealistic left" or Cornell West or whatever third party candidate the liberals end up blaming. It will be because the democrats have failed to meet the lowest standards of many Americans.

You can talk about strategic voting until you're blue in the face, but fundamentally, people need reasons to vote for a candidate. There are people in this country watching as their family members get slaughtered by American arms, sent to Israel by Joe Biden. The people watching their families get murdered in Palestine have no reason to support Joe Biden. How can you ask them to?

"Sorry your family got bombed, but I need you to vote for the man who is directly responsible, or *real* people are going to suffer too."

It was at this point While I was drafting this post that I heard he just started bombing Yemen. It's like he's doing everything in his power to sink his own fucking campaign, are you shitting me? This isn't a matter of "stupid commies not being realistic enough", he's not just working for the status quo; just about every action he has taken since October 7th has been an escalation of conflict in the Middle East and made it worse for everyone living there. This is exactly what I'm talking about.

You can scold people for voting wrong as much as you want, but fundamentally the way that democrats can win elections is by pursuing good policy. If the only argument you can come up with in favor of Joe Biden is that he won't do 1 or 2 of the terrible things that Trump wants to do, then that will simply not appeal to the people who are most intensely affected by Biden's failures (not to mention people who have moral objections to genocide, even when it doesn't affect them). You can scream and cry all you want, people are not going to just overlook his role in the ethnic cleansing of Gaza just because he is the Less Bad Genocider.

If a republican wins the presidency in November, you can blame the hundreds of thousands of voters/nonvoters who should've agreed with you and put aside every moral concern they ever had about the Biden administration... or you can blame the one fucking guy whose massive foreign policy failures are going to tank his re-election campaign.

#us politics #uspol #2024 elections #palestine #biden #yemen #jesus christ are you fucking kidding with attacking Yemen?

[dear-bunnyboo]

𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐀𝐅 || 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖

i am suffering from the worst writers block ever! i only really had inspiration to write this fic in general so updates on my other requests and fics will take a little more time :)

IDGAF means “i don’t give a fuck” by the way for those who don’t know. I also had to research an appropriate job description this reader can brag about, enjoy! ;)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Joe Burrow x Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You notice the Bengals’ new staff member flirting with your boyfriend, however, Joe thinks that you are acting childish for saying so— you decide to show Joe that you didn't give a fuck.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ mature content, cursing, in denial!Joe, light angst, fluff, flirting, arguing, jealousy?, established relationship, party setting, mentions of alcohol consumption, slight sexual tension, some dirty talking, smut?, pda, allusion to sex, sexual tension, no cheating!, badass!reader, slight groveling, paparazzi

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The speakers were blaring all throughout the club— the colorful flashing lights danced across each and everyone’s skin as it circles the place.

Sitting with your legs crossed you giggled as you listened to one of your closest friend rant about a recent embarrassing moment that happened to her at her office— you are currently surrounded by the entire Cincinnati Bengals team at the VIP area of the club— the staff, crew, coaches, players, and their significant others celebrating their win at the AFC Championship not long ago.

You were sitting prettily next to a couple of WAGs wearing a copper halter neck jumpsuit that hugged your body in the right places, showcasing your curves while accentuating your height— alternating from taking a sip from your drink and nodding to what your friends were discussing, not long after, you felt a familiar warm heat land on your upper thigh.

Looking to your right, you were met with your boyfriend, Joe who was busy speaking with Sam and Tee— his eyes trained on them, however, his large hands was on your right thigh, running his hands up and down, occasionally squeezing it from time to time.

Joe was a very private person especially when it comes to his personal life. So he is not the type of guy who would do PDA and you were okay with that— it was never really your goal to flaunt your relationship with Joe out in the open— in fact, you enjoy the moments you have in private, the Joe you and only you can see.

“You should send me that video. It sounds way too good to be true.” you chucked, brushing the strands of your hair away from your face as you jokingly pointed at your friend— teasing her about the failed tiktok she attempted to do in her office that her boss caught her doing.

“If I do, you’ll have to do it with me.” She laughs.

Before you could reply back, Joe interrupted you from your conversation, “Babe, I’d like you to meet someone.” He said.

Turning to look at your boyfriend, you were met with an unfamiliar redhead.

“This is, Stacie— she is the new athletic trainer of the team.” Joe introduced her.

Getting a good look at the girl, she was pretty, Stacie was a little bit shorter than you, with red hair that was curled behind her, she was wearing a white dress, and she had a huge smile on her face that rubbed you the wrong way— you were all for women supporting women but you can smell bitches from a mile away.

It’s a talent.

It was a self defense mechanism.

You grew up in a well-off family— that only meant fake friends, fake love, fake sympathies, fake laughs— fake smiles. Growing up in such way you have learned to spot the difference from the people who genuinely enjoy your company and the people who wanted to be best friends because your dad drove a Rolls Royce.

“Hi, Stacie. I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.” you greeted her with a soft smile that funnily enough was as fake as hers.

“Do you also work for the Bengals? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around the facility.” Stacie asked, turning her head to look at you and then at Joe.

“No, I don’t work there— I’m Joe’s girlfriend.”

And just like that her plastered smile faltered by a second— a twitch that only you managed to catch.

“Stacie has been helping me with my knee a lot.” Your boyfriend chimes in making the redhead peer up at the quarterback in awe at the acknowledgment, you could practically hear her purring.

Shaking your head off those thoughts, you took a deep breath and managed to give Stacie a real smile, “Thank you, I’m glad he’s in good hands.” I nodded at her, cause at the end of the day, she was good at her job— she wouldn’t be qualified for hire if she wasn’t. That’s all you cared about— that Joe was being taken care of, especially when it comes to his injuries.

You trusted Joe with every ounce of your being and he trusted you— there was no reason for you to nitpick on every little detail you find off from that woman. You trusted your boyfriend’s judgement, and knowing Joe, you know how hard it is for him to trust people as well— so as long as he thinks she’s cool then you’re cool.

You were rising above.

“Oh, he’s in very good hands.” Stacie giggled before running her hand up and down your boyfriend’s bicep.

Looking towards Joe, he simply chucked in response.

You could feel your eye twitch.

You were rising above— You repeated in your head as if it was some sort of mantra.

Joe was being nice. That’s it. He is a nice man.

“So, Y/N, right? Let me tell you— I have been enjoying my time as an AT for the Bengals. Joe has been doing so well and has helped me feel right at home.” She giggles again before continuing, “I’m sorry, I’m talking too much about myself. How about you? What do you do?” She asks.

What do I do?— Joe fucking Burrow that’s what.

“I’m a creative director” you sipped on your drink side eyeing Joe as he laughs with Ja’marr— still refusing to acknowledge the fact that Stacie’s hand was still on him.

“Aw, that’s cute. For who?” she raised her eyebrow, taunting you as she feigned interest.

“Vogue.”

That seems to shut her up for the meantime.

You weren’t one to brag about the achievements and blessings in your life but she was pushing your last buttons— Joe included.

“I’ll go grab a drink.” Stacie told Joe as if he cared where she was headed.

You silently watched her walk towards the bartender before making your way closer to Joe who turned towards you in time. Your boyfriend eyed you up and down before placing a kiss on the temple of your forehead.

“You look like you were having fun with Stacie, If I wasn’t mistaken it seems like you found another best friend, huh?” Joe moved closer towards you as you stoically stared at him.

“It sounds like you are mistaken cause I wasn’t having fun at all.” You said to him in a lighthearted way, almost sarcastic as you watched his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“You’re not having fun, baby?” Joe questions circling his arms around your waist.

“I was having fun— not with her though and I don’t think we’ll be friends anytime soon.” You shrugged not bothering to explain as you laid your head on his chest.

“What do you mean?”

Rolling your eyes, you lifted your head to look back up at the quarterback, “Joe, she clearly has a thing for you, she’s been flirting at you the entire time— right in front of my face too.” you sighed.

Joe simply shook him head, “She wasn’t, babe. She was just being nice.”

“Oh, I didn’t know being nice involved caressing someone’s bicep in front of that someone’s girlfriend.” You said sarcastically as you pushed yourself off of Joe’s embrace.

“Babe, she’s a touchy person that’s it. That doesn’t mean she was flirting.” Joe runs his hand across his hair frustratedly as he stared at you. You don’t know why Joe is deciding to act stupid— it was either he was playing stupid or he was just stupid and you hoped for it to be the latter— which concluded to Joe being stupid.

You eyed your boyfriend’s innocence, yeah, let’s call it that. Chuckling, you gave Joe a look, “Joe, baby, she’s flirting— hundred percent. She looks at you as if you cured cancer and I don’t blame her. Hell, millions of people look at you that way, Joe and I’m fine with that. My problem with her is the fact that not only was she disrespecting you with her touching but she was also disrespecting me by doing so.”

“Joe, I don’t mind her liking you— I trust you and I know for a fact that you won’t do anything to destroy that trust but what I cannot take is disrespect, Joey you know that.” you finished softly, hoping your boyfriend could take a hint.

“I know that, baby— but I’m just saying she’s a friend who is being friendly that’s it.”

Joe was being stubborn and you don’t think that screaming at him in public was technically “rising above”.

Before you could reply back, Stacie nudges her way between you and Joe— the redhead now had her arms wrapped around your boyfriend’s neck, making Joe lean down to her height so that she can whisper whatever to his ear.

You were pretty sure you had steam coming out of your ears as you watched Joe let her do whatever to him. It takes time for Joe to warm up to people, it took you a year of friendship for him to be even comfortable with you touching him— platonically even.

Now watching your boyfriend have absolutely no problem letting a woman he just met touch him is hurting you.

Zach Taylor calls Stacie over to introduce her to more people, ultimately leaving you and Joe in your seats as you listened to the pumping music in the background that accompanied the ringing in your ear.

“Wow, am I third-wheeling?” you joked, trying to mask the pain and anger lingering in your voice but to no avail it shows.

“What are you talking about, baby?” Joe turns back towards you with a confused yet frustrated look on his face which was pissing you off even more.

“Don’t fucking baby me, Joseph. What the fuck was that? You just let her touch you like that it front of me? I don’t know if you’ve been tackled way too hard today but you have seem to forget that I’m your girlfriend.” You argued, silently thanking the loud music for masking your voice and the dark lights for hiding your now pissed off look.

There were fans all around the bar— thankfully they were outside the VIP lounge but that didn’t stop them from taking pictures and videos of their favorite NFL players— you didn’t need videos of you and Joe fighting in public.

“Again with this? Y/N, seriously you’re being childish— stop being so fucking jealous and for the last time she’s being friendly.” Joe grunts as he finishes his entire drink in frustration.

Childish and jealous

Childish is what your so-called friends would call you back in high school when you confronted them for using you for money. Childish is what they called you when you refused to be their friend anymore. Childish is what your boyfriend of four years calls you for after defending a bitch that was flirting with him.

And jealous?

Bitch please. You were never jealous. Not once were you jealous of anyone in your life. You were the only child in a wealthy family— you had loving parents who spoiled you, you went to the best schools, had the best clothes, you have the best job that people will kill for, you have real friends that cared about you, as much as Joe was pissing you off— he was the best boyfriend.

You weren’t jealous of her, she was jealous of you.

You love Joe with all your being but if he even thinks about cheating on you with her or anyone in that matter— then they can have him.

Yes, he’s the Joe Burrow. The number one overall draft pick, the star player and quarterback of Cincinnati Bengals— but you were you, you were simply better.

And you’ve had it— having the Joe Burrow as your boyfriend has its ups and downs and you've learned to navigate through it together after years and years but this was something Joe needs to figure this out alone since he wants to act dumb.

Joe Burrow have officially crossed you in a way he hasn’t before and after this you know he’s gonna wish he hadn’t.

“Ok. I’m gonna go dance.” you said nonchalantly before leaving your boyfriend alone more confused now than ever as he watches you leave with the a few WAGs to the dance floor which was filled with people.

“Girl, are you ok? That Stacie was flirting with Joe so hard. Did you talk to him?”

“What did Joe say?”

“I swear to God if she makes a move on my man next — she’s gonna get fired.”

“Did you you two fight?”

All the questions being thrown you as you all danced in your own circle. You gave them a brief rundown of what happened they stared at you shocked.

“So? What are you gonna do?” One of them asked.

“Absolutely nothing.” You smiled as you moved your hips around to the beat.

“What?!” A collective response was met with a smirk on your face.

“He’s gonna figure it out all on his own— as of now, I don’t give a fuck.”

As you took on if the girls’ hands, dancing together to Reminder by The Weeknd which was ironically perfect for your situation— you felt heat from the side of your head, you didn’t need to turn around to know that Joe was staring at you— you wanted him to.

“Y/N, Joe is undressing you with his eyes.” one of your friends says nodding towards Joe.

You simply gave her a grin, “I’m hot. Who wouldn’t, honestly?”

“Miss Stacie looks like a kicked puppy and Joe is sat far away from her— seems like your plan is working.”

Of course it is.

You knew that without you next to Joe that Stacie would make her move— that gave your boyfriend all the time in the world to realize that you were right all along.

You feigned innocence, still dancing and singing to the song as one of your friends started to film you and the others.

“Ever time you try to forget who I am, I’ll be right there to remind you again— you know me~” you sang to the camera.

As you continued to dance, Joe couldn’t help but stare at you— a cloud of emotion lingering in him. He was very much in love with you and how good you are at moving your hips, he was guilty for calling childish and arguing with you, he was angry at himself for not believing you, he was also thoroughly furious at Stacie.

As soon as you left to dance, after replying to him unemotionally that scared that absolute shit out of him— Stacie immediately latched onto his side, giggling over something she found amusing that Joe seems to find himself not caring.

“Joe you look really good in this.” She says leaning towards him as she twirled her finger around his chest which ultimately rang red alarms all over Joe’s head— taunting him almost.

“Thanks” Joe says clearly uncomfortable as he politely moved her away from him but to his surprise she moved again towards him again, her mouth now on his ears as she whispered, “Do you wanna go somewhere more quiet, Joey?”

That was it for Joe.

He pushed her off him and quickly stood up— and glared at the redhead, the same redhead he defended to his girlfriend who was convinced she was disrespectful for flirting with him— and she was right.

Y/N is always right and Joe hated himself for not believing his girlfriend of four years.

“Stacie, I have a girlfriend who is not far from here and overall, you technically work for me, so this is unprofessional.” Joe said firmly to the redhead who just stared at him like she didn’t care.

Maybe because she didn’t.

“So? That’s why I asked you if we could go somewhere quiet. No one has to know.” She smirked.

And just like that he lost all the respect he has for her.

“I love my girlfriend and you both disrespected me and her. I’ll be talking with Zach in the morning about this— this is against a lot of the companies rules. I’ll also request for Zach to assign me a different AT— goodbye.” He turned his back towards her and sat himself in between Tee, Sam and Ja’marr who laughed at him.

“Took you long enough.” Ja’marr shook his head looking at him.

“What? How did you know?” The quarterback asks his friends who looked at him as if he was stupid.

He was.

“Everyone could see her flirting with you, man. It was painfully obvious— Zach already said he’s gonna talk to Stacie tomorrow. Don’t think she’ll have a job in the morning.” Ja’marr explained before chugging his drink down.

“And you didn’t bother telling me?” Joe asked exasperated, disbelief in his face as he stared at his friends.

“First of all, you’re a grown man— you should have figured out yourself a long time ago and secondly, your girlfriend told us not to do anything and according to her ‘to let you figure it out’” Tee explained doing air quotes with his fingers.

“She told you?”

“Yeah, we threatened to beat you up when we saw Stacie on you but your girl had other plans.”

Joe remained stunned thoughts circling his head as he watched you grind you hips against the other girls.

“Stop drooling and apologize to her, man.” Sam snapped Joe out of his viewing experience.

Without a second thought Joe’s long legs took him right behind you in just a few strides.

You didn’t need to see who was behind you to know that Joe was towering over you— a familiar heat draws you to him like magnetic, that and your friends gave you cheeky grins and winks before dispersing across the club.

However, you kept your back towards him, refusing acknowledge his presence. Knowing Joe, you knew that he was gonna take you somewhere private and quiet to talk— away from people seeing but to your surprise, Joe wraps his arms around you making you stiffen up before relaxing in his hold.

Joe was dancing behind you.

Good Lord— your handsomely hot boyfriend’s 6’4 stature was grinding onto you from behind.

What in the literal fuck.

“Joe wha– what are you doing?” You managed to choke out as you fought a moan coming out of your mouth as you felt his now hard length grind on your ass.

“Do you feel that? Huh, baby? That’s what you do to me, Y/N.” Joe breathes out into your hair.

“I know but why here? Let’s go somewhere els–” you rushed not wanting your boyfriend to feel obligated to do such things despite his discomfort in public display of affection.

“No. Baby I want to. You’re right, you’re right, you’re right. I’m so sorry, baby. You’re right about everything and I realize that now— you don’t have to worry about her anymore, I’ve dealt with it, my love.”

Turning around to face Joe, you see the sincerity, the vulnerability, the guilt, and anger in his eyes.

You knew he meant every word.

“I was never worried about her. I was worried about you.” You simply answered him, giving him a tight lipped smile, making him lean his forehead onto yours— determined more now than ever to see your real smile.

“I’m sorry for not believing you, I’m sorry for arguing with you and calling you such things, I’m sorry for making you think that I didn’t care— I do, baby. I love you so much.” Joe just kept on going, hoping to see your bright smile back up at him again.

“It hurt you know. It took me years to get you to be comfortable with me— and that’s only for our friendship but then watching you be so comfortable with her in such a short amount of time— it hurt.” you confessed, fiddling with your fingers as you watch the pain fill Joe’s face in the realization.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I’m sorry— but did you know why I was so uncomfortable with you touching me when we first started hanging out? It was because I was crushing on you hard, Y/N. I new it was you the moment we became friends and every time you hugged me, touched me, kissed me, it felt like I would go insane— I still do.”

Joe caresses your arms as he explains, slowly placing them around his neck as he swayed the two of you slowly— the two of you in your little corner of the club, the dancing bodies of strangers now became nothing but the background.

It was just you and Joe.

“But you know what I realized? Fuck it. I’m sorry it took me four years but fuck it. Who cares if they see us dancing in public? Who cares if videos of us touching each other reaches the internet? Everyone knows we’re dating— who cares? They should be worried about what we do in private.” Joe rants to himself mostly before whispering the last part in your ear— his soft lips kissing your earlobe before making its way down to your neck.

Joe licks and sucks onto the most sensitive part of your neck— marking you for the world to see, knowing very well the amount of fans and paparazzi were waiting for them outside.

“Let me take you home, Y/N. So that everyone will know your mine if they don’t already— I want all of them to know, the fans, the media, that bitch Stacie.” Joe continues before placing a wet kiss on your mouth, your tongues both fighting for dominance, teeth clashing as your lips gets sucked between his— Joe’s hands caressing every part of your body.

“I love you, please let me show you how much.” Joe practically begs making your squeeze your legs together even more.

“Take me home then.” you challenged a devilish smile forming on your face.

And before you know it, Joe was dragging you out of the club not even bothering to say goodbye to everyone— once you and Joe reached the outside, you were greeted by cameras taking pictures of you and Joe— your boyfriend keeps you locked in between his arms as you two navigated towards his car, heading home for the next party to begin.

You were right about one thing today: That Stacie was a two-faced bitch.

However, Joe was right about two things today: One, is the paparazzi did in fact wrote articles about the fresh hickeys on your neck as you and Joe raced out of the club disheveled, ultimately causing a stir in the media— and two, he did in fact love you very very very much and he showed you in a lot of different ways.

;)

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#joe burrow x you #joe burrow #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x oc #joe shiesty #joe brrr #cincinnati bengals #nfl fan fic #nfl #nfl smut #nfl fluff #nfl imagine

[carolmunson]

orange colored sky (older!modern!eddie)

older!modern!eddie - setlist inspired by the fact that i fall in love with someone new every time i got to trader joe's and @loveshotzz new older!steve series. manip by my fave @eddiemunsons-missingnipple tw: nothing really, very much a meet cute at a grocery store. eddie is in his early 40s, reader is late-late 20s/early 30s. lemme know if you guys want this to be a whole thing.

the automatic doors rush cool air into your face, a sweet reprieve from the sticky heat of this summer. a much muggier july than you remember having as a kid. but then again, you don't remember that much about being a kid these days. trader joe's is a little busier than usual, which makes sense with the holiday weekend coming up -- but you hate when it's busy. there's already too many sounds -- some summer 90s playlist and the squeaks of the carts, people in their hawaiian shirts milling around with boxes and box cutters. you just want some snap peas for god sakes. 

you grab a basket and adjust your canvas bags on your shoulder, tossing your headphones in them for later. you feel 'running errands ugly' but everyone seeing you in the bike shorts you threw on this morning doesn't think that view is ugly at all. your music drowned it out on the train ride over here. you're already sort of annoyed. people just don't know how to do anything anymore -- why are we just standing in front of produce. get what you need and go! you think hastily. but you wait for people to stop gawking at the produce and make their selection before you grab the romaine, snap peas, and shredded brussel sprouts you need. when you turn you almost walk entirely into someone's cart, eyes flitting up briefly and muttering a 'sorry, s'cuse me'.

can everyone just get off my fucking ass? you huff to yourself internally. you maneurver over to fruits, a few stands in a row -- citrus, apples, berries. all separated by category in large cargo looking boxes. you snag a big box of cherries, the three pound one, knowing you'll go through the small ones too fast. you frown over the lack of watermelon, continuing along while someone turns the corner into your aisle. you look up for a moment, just to scan your surroundings, to see who it is.

 you've never seen him before, but you've never seen anyone here before. it's not like there's regulars at the grocery store in a city like this. his hands hang over the handle to his cart by the wrists, knuckles tattooed in shapes you can't make out. you follow the leather banded watch up to a full sleeve of ink, only obscured by the start of a cuffed t-shirt sleeve, a crisp white that blinds against the black of the elvira pin up tattoo on his tricep. horror icons blending into each other seamlessly. you can see more black and color peeking out from the collar of his shirt --vintage judas priest, mint condition, tucked comfortably under a well perserved denim vest covered in patches of bands you've never heard of. you're surprised by the black chino shorts on his bottom half, not expecting someone who was clearly still stuck in their grunge phase to wear those over cut off jeans. the busted up reebok's on his feet make up for it though -- pairing nicely with the tattoos on his calves and thighs, not quite sleeves, but enough to make a statement. 

you grab a box of strawberries and pop them into your basket, surveying the mangos on the top shelf at your eye level while he maneuvers behind you. you think he's cute but you don't take too much stock in it -- it's so like you to have a 'train boyfriend' or 'trader joe's boyfriend' for a brief moment in time. someone cute that you spot outside and never speak to. it's one of those days.

he has brown eyes and thick lashes, hair dark wrapped in a bun on the top of his head with streaks of silver poking through, bangs in his face. some curls stick to the heated skin by his neck and jaw. not that you're looking. the scruff on his face is littered with salt and pepper -- maybe that part of him aging more than the rest. he grabs a heap of bananas to his nearly empty cart. he also has a big box of cherries in there. he wears a cologne with spice and suede in the notes, it's familiar, a little smoky. maybe an old boyfriend used to wear it. you shrug it off, grabbing a mango or two and popping it in a produce bag before hocking it in. more veggies for a greek salad. an onion. some pre-packaged turkey slices. 

you turn into the first frozen food section, weaving through more people who just stand there and you grit your teeth. you snag some frozen broccoli, the coolness bringing you a moment of calm so that you don't lose your mind inside the store. more like traitor joe's. you grab a few more things, a veggie medley for a tofu scramble, some scallion pancakes that you’ll use as meal replacement because no matter how many times you think you’ll food prep you never do. you see him at the end of the aisle, rifling through bags of frozen shrimp to find one he likes. you notice he has a ring on but it’s on his pointer finger, two more rings on the hand that holds his cart by his hip – a silver chain dangles from what you assume is his wallet in his back pocket. his keys jingle from a carabiner by his front belt loop. slut, you think to yourself. you grab a bag of small frozen salmon filets, not paying much mind to your grocery store boyfriend of the week when you turn the corner to the next frozen food aisle. he’s there not soon after you, grabbing frozen fruit medleys and a few bars of chocolate on the non-frozen shelving above. you aren’t sure if he sees you, but you see him. you can smell the suede and spice of his cologne as his moves past you to the other end. bread is on the back wall of the store, you want to get sourdough but you know you’ll just eat it plain and not make sandwiches so you opt for the tuscan loaf instead. you snag a bag of mini bagels, forgoing the small baguettes this time. you can’t afford the good burrata this week for any special girl dinner you come up with, so it’s best to not have it around if you can’t pair it with anything pretty. further down the back wall you get to snacks and don’t ignore the bag of yogurt covered pretzels – a basket must. seaweed snacks for salmon rice bowls. plantain chips. Your basket feels a little heavy but at least this errand is almost over. you turn down the pasta, beans, and rice aisle and there he is turning down the other end. you both catch each other this time, because this time feels like it’s not a coincidence. you both break eye contact as quickly as you make it, both of you looking down and smiling to yourselves. you feel the heat on your cheeks but you don’t see his blush, both of you too preoccupied with whatever you have to pick up to pay attention to the other. you smell the suede and smoke even after you lose him to the next couple of aisles. 

pre-packaged tortellini, lox, shredded cheese. chicken thighs. a six pack of some pretty sounding beer you’ve never tried. your basket overflows but it’s fine. the errand is over, at least here, before you need to run into target which for some reason is far less overstimulating. he’s a few people ahead of you on the opposite line, still leaning over the edge of his cart with his hands hanging, one thumbing a text to someone before he stands up fully to push the cart ahead. he looks over his shoulder and your eyes briefly meet for a moment – heat on your cheeks – before he moves ahead to turn down the long row of cashiers to pay. you don’t see him when it’s your turn and by the time you’re done paying you’ve already forgotten about him, lost in a flirty conversation with the guy ringing you up. target only has half of what you need and that’s fine because nothing else will fit in the big canvas bags you brought with you for your groceries and it’s at least an eight minute walk back to the train. you groan when you get back out into the heat, the boiler room of the subway cooking you as you make it down to the platform. a pleasant sigh passes your lips when you see it’s at least only a four minute wait until your train makes it to you – only a few more minutes of suffering before you’re on your way back to your air conditioned studio apartment. you look across the platform where some old lady’s push cart rattles as it makes it down the stairs on the other side. her little body walking ahead, a voice saying ‘i got it, ma’am don’t worry,’ echos down into the chamber of the subway.

there he is. a canvas bag on each arm filled to the brim and the push cart lifted in front of him. while you can’t see from this distance, you have a feeling you’d like how his arms looked at full capacity like this. the cart’s metallic jingle continues when he places it on the concrete ground, pushing it over to the woman who now sits pleasantly on the bench. you watch their conversation while they say quiet ‘thank yous’ and ‘your welcomes’ to each other and he checks his phone while he finds a spot to stand, waiting for his train on the opposite side.

you check your phone just the same and look up again as he puts his phone in the pocket of his vest. his attention catches on you from across the way.

he gives you a small wave and smiles. he has a nice smile, infectious.

“hi.”

you wave back with two fingers, a small salute, “hey.”

“i’m eddie,” he starts as the red glow of the light on your train starts to pull in. 

the chug, chug, chug starting to drown him out. he raises his voice with a boyish grin, you hear him just before the train obscures him from view – whooshing past you as it pulls into the station. “i normally go to trader’s on wednesdays!”

you get on the train when the doors open, seeing him still on the platform, searching for you in the windows. you put your hand up again in an awkward wave and he grins when he finds you. ‘stand clear of the closing doors, please!’ he puts a hand back up with two fingers, mouthing out a message. ‘wednesdays around two.’

you give him the okay symbol with your fingers and nod at him, chuckling at the ridiculousness of the situation, he chuckles too. his smile is pretty, lips are full. his two fingers point to his eyes and then at you – ‘see you then’. 

the train pulls away before you get a chance to reply. 

next

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #older!eddie munson #old!eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #stranger things #stranger things fan fiction

[omegalomania]

people bitching and moaning about fob "turning mainstream" as if that was never the entire point of fall out boy. that's In the goddamn dna of the band, it's baked into the ethos of why the band started in the first damn place. to be accessible to kids and especially to girls, who were often ridiculed and shunted out of the hardcore community. to be a gateway to bands that aren't as mainstream. to comment on the society they live in, as they live in it. people act like fall out boy "turning mainstream" was some kind of "betrayal" when from the start they were seizing on the trends of the time, putting their unique, unhinged fall out boy spin on them, and shooting them back out as a funhouse mirror. take this to your grave capitalized on the pop-punk zeitgeist that was big in the late 90s and early aughts and put their own spin on it: enmeshed catchy choruses with high-dexterity lyrical & linguistic skewerwork. infinity on high was basically a massive critique of the scene they were in - this ain't a scene it's a goddamn arm's race is a fucking thesis statement on what it is to be catapulted into fame in an industry that wants nothing more than a thousand cookie-cutter copycat acts of a successful formula, and fall out boy WAS the formula everyone desperately wanted to emulate. american beauty / american psycho blended sampling and modern hip-hop stylings with polished pop-rock and pointed those songs back at the snapshot of the 2010s we all lived in: commenting on racial injustice and the freeze-frame nature of relevancy. but even then they weren't doing it quite right - because fall out boy never does things quite right, they're never quite conventional, whether it's wentz's darkly confessional lyrics double-bagged in metaphor or stump's distinctive clear tenor or trohman's inescapable rock 'n roll edge or hurley's thunderous hardcore-punk-rock soul.

this band has always been too clever for its own critics, is the thing. but then, they always knew that. they knew they had a thriving fanbase of largely female fans so they were going to be mocked and belittled and ridiculed. they weren't quite right. they weren't quite so easy to market. pete wentz had to have all his hard edges filed off and cut down to size, skin lightened, literally whitewashed ("i feel like a photo that's been overexposed") to hell and back, even as he was marketed as the pretty boy of the band. and the other three members never even bothered with the spotlight: the soft-spoken vegan straightedge anarchist drummer and the wry, wisecracking, whip-clever guitarist who was more concerned with being the connective tissue than anything and the reticent vocalist who sang the words and wrote an awful lot of music but wasn't really the guy fronting the band. wentz's charisma carried the band, because the rest of them were really just some guys and never aspired to be anything else.

fall out boy is too pop. fall out boy is too mainstream. fall out boy isn't the real poster child of the emo movement. other bands are better. even within fall out boy's own narrative, they are repeatedly ignored, sidelined, and belittled, as though they weren't one of the only acts from the big 00s emo-pop movement to successfully not just survive the transition from the aughts to the '10s, and then later from the '10s to the '20s, but to thrive in it without banking on nostalgia. this band was supposed to be a flash in the pan. they weren't supposed to last and they weren't supposed to get big. they started off in joe's parents' attic because joe and pete were sick of how exclusionary and homophobic the hardcore scene was.

i think it's high time that people acknowledge how fall out boy has repeatedly succeeded where most of their other peers failed. cunning, clever, capable, and hyper-aware of the space they occupy in the culture surrounding them. that they are just as powerful, important, and artistic as any of the other bands in the scene that others might deify at their expense. that they deserve a hell of a lot more respect than they get from critics or hardcore punks who think they sold out. i hope one day they get that recognition. because they've earned it, time and time again, and the more i see people pushing back against that, the more certain i become of its inevitability.

#fall out boy #fob #*making poasts #this was supposed to be a pithy 3 sentence post but i kept going #just another Day In The Life of someone who sees a lot of garbage takes and gets tired #mostly i just shrug em off cause you know. what else is new. this has been going on since day 1. #but it saddens me. it saddens me that these guys are ridiculed for this still. #it breaks my heart that patrick isnt taken seriously as a composer in some circles because hes the guy from fall out boy. #it breaks my heart that people won't acknowledge pete as one of the most distinctive lyricists of our generation. #it breaks my heart that andy and joe are discredited and shit on within metal circles specifically because they're in fall out boy. #i hope they know that we get it. we get it and we're proud of them. no matter what.

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 2

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: I was overwhelmed by the response on Part 1 (in the BEST way). 🥹 Thank you so much for everyone who read and sent me your lovely amazing comments! Here's Part 2 a bit early for ya. 😘

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 6,400 Tags/Warnings: Idiots flirting, with a side of sexual harassment. 😪

Part 2: "Lieutenant Winchester"

Firehouse 25 was just as much a house as it was a home.

Especially for Dean Winchester.

In the common room, he sat down at his preferred corner of the sofa with a cup of coffee. By now, the guys knew this was his spot, perfectly angled toward the new flatscreen TV someone donated last month.

Up until then, they’d had to hotwire the same tank from 1995, which had only got basic cable. Now at least the newer smart TV came with a subscription to Netflix, courtesy of the donor. 

Dean raised his favorite Batman mug to his face, expecting to imbibe some rich dark roast. What he got was a travesty.

Spitting out the brown soil water back into the mug, he coughed and grimaced.

“Jack!” he called out.

Jack Kline, the newest addition to the house, raised his head from where he was trying to scramble eggs in the open kitchen directly behind the couch.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he replied.

“Why does this coffee taste like ass?” Dean asked. His voice was still gruff with sleep, as he depended on his morning coffee to wake him up, not assault his tongue.

Behind him, Jack blinked in confusion. “Uh…”

Dean finally turned around and gave the younger man a raised brow.

“What brand did you buy, Candidate?” he asked.

A candidate was a freshly graduated firefighter on probation. They were the rookie, the bottom rung of the totem pole, and Jack was that proverbial whipping post.

“Um…” Jack went to find the coffee canister he’d put away in the cupboards. He showed Dean the red plastic jug. “Folgers. It was on sale.”

“Fuck me,” Dean muttered. “Never Folgers, Candidate. Anything but fucking Folgers. The one thing we don’t skimp out on is quality joe.”

“That ain’t nothin’ but dirt water, son,” Benny remarked, as he and Gordon entered the common room. Benny held a to-go mug he’d brought from home. After he’d seen what Jack brought for groceries yesterday, he’d taken no chances.

“What you wanna get is Gevalia,” Benny added.

“That European crap?” said Gordon. He took his usual spot at the dining table, leaning back in his chair. It left Benny to sit at the other end of the couch with Dean.

“Better than that piss water you drink,” Benny said with a smirk. Gordon raised a brow at him.

“Tea is medicinal, jackass.” The Black man raised a finger to punctuate his point. “It’s good for you. Unlike that carburetor fluid y’all drink.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean said, even though a grin edged at his lips. “All I know is, we need premium coffee, stat. Or it’s gonna be a cranky shift.”

“I can go to the store real quick,” Jack offered.

Say what you want about the kid’s poor taste in grocery buying, he was always willing to jump in when you needed him.

“Nah, stay on breakfast,” said Dean. “I’ll go afterwards. But remember, today you’re practicing rappelling drills.”

Jack nodded. “And lunch duty. And helping clean the truck, and all the bathrooms…did I miss anything?”

Dean shared a look with Gordon. Not only did he drive the truck, but he was one of the men Dean relied on most, as he had the next highest seniority on the job out of the whole firehouse.

Well, except for Benny Lafitte, Captain of the Rescue Squad. Squad members were considered specialists in complex rescue situations. They were highly trained on more sophisticated technical rescue equipment and rappelling, even scuba diving.

It took long years for a firefighter to make it onto Squad; something that Dean used to have ambitions for. But ever since he got promoted to Lieutenant on Truck 79, he realized that his role in this house was best served on the Truck, not on Squad.

“If he gets through all that, Meg might have something for him too,” Gordon said.

“Oh, don’t bring me into this,” remarked a droll voice. “I’ve already got one pound puppy to look after.”

Their Paramedic in Charge strode in with Chuck on her heels. They’d just pulled into the firehouse driveway on Ambulance 7.

“Nice. That’s how you talk about your partner of three years?” Chuck said with a frown. Meg turned to him with a wry grin.

“Only the ones who can hack it on my Ambo,” she replied. “What can I say. You’re special, Shurley. Either that, or a glutton for punishment.”

Gordon shook his head and looked over at Jack.

“Careful with that one. She chewed and hacked out her last partner in under a month.”

“Poor guy didn’t even transfer,” Dean added, making a “flatlining” motion with his hand. “He just quit. Dropped out of the Fire Academy that same day.”

Not all firefighters were made through Meg’s department, but it was a common route, working as a paramedic while getting put through your paces in the Fire Academy. Dean himself had gone straight to the Academy after getting his EMT certification.

But at Dean’s words, Jack’s eyes widened a fraction. Meg turned to him with an almost feline smile. 

“How was the call?” Benny asked her, speaking of the job they’d just returned from. Meg’s expression dimmed a little, as did Chuck’s as they both sat down at the table.

“Ah, just Henry again,” she said. “Overdosed on his insulin.”

Benny frowned, while Dean shook his head. Jack’s brows furrowed.

“Who’s Henry?” he asked.

Meg sat back in her chair with a subtle sigh. Knowing his work partner’s mood, Chuck answered the young man’s question.

“He’s homeless, lives by the river,” he said. “He’s one of our ‘regulars,’ you could say. When we get the call, usually he’s passed out. Dehydration. But sometimes it’s more serious.”

“You can’t take him to the hospital?” Jack asked in concern.

“Today we did,” Meg said. Her brown eyes met Jack’s, her mouth in a thin line. “But without health insurance, there’s only so much they can do after they get him stable.”

That fell a bit heavily into the room. It wasn’t a pleasant fact, but it was the reality. Jack was learning more and more about that aspect of this job, and learning if he could handle the darker shades of what it could bring.

“Well, breakfast is ready,” he said, bringing a large plate of eggs and toast onto the counter. Dean tossed him an appreciative half-smile and got up from the couch.

“Thanks, kid,” he said, walking over along with everyone else. He took a moment to pat Jack on the shoulder.

“What do you want to do first: run drills, or help me and Gordon wash the truck?” Dean asked.

Jack looked up with a smile. “Can we run drills first?”

Dean nodded, grinning back at him. “Good answer.”

The rest of the Truck and Squad crews ambled in at both the announcement and the smell of food. And before long, the common room was filled with conversation, good-natured teasing, and shitty coffee all around.   

From his vantage point facing the open door to the driveway, Benny caught sight of a young woman heading towards the double doors with a large tupperware bin in hand. Bonnie the receptionist happened to be coming in at the same time. You asked her a question Benny couldn’t quite hear.

“Dean… Oh, you’re looking for Lieutenant Winchester?” Bonnie asked. Her voice tended to carry. “Right in there, hun.”

“Well, that sure is interesting,” Benny murmured with a smile. He glanced over slyly at his friend. “Heads up, brother.”

Dean looked up from his plate of eggs expectantly. Benny gestured over with his eyes, just as you walked into the firehouse, both cautious and unsure of where you were going.

Dean’s brows raised. He found himself setting down his plate and getting up from the couch before he really knew what he was doing.

You looked exactly how he remembered. Though this time, you weren’t coffee stained in your professional blouse and black pencil skirt. His attention drew briefly downwards to your heels, this time solid black (and even taller than the last pair, damn).

He noticed all the same things he had last time: the shade of your hair, pinned up again with a clip as stray pieces framed your face. The way you carried yourself when you finally saw him, straightening with a subtle confidence in your shoulders, even though you looked a bit nervous. And the pretty curve of your lips when your eyes found his.

“Hey, there,” Dean said. He gave you one of his trademark smiles. “Good to see you again.”

“Uh, hi,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you remember me.”

Dean nodded. “‘Course I do. What can I do for you?”

Your face seemed to freeze up a bit as you looked up at him.

“Oh, um, nothing really. I just wanted to say thank you, again,” you said. And you glanced past him, where the rest of the firehouse members were discreetly watching. “All of you, actually. And my friend told me that firefighters really like food…but, I mean, doesn’t everyone?”

You laughed a little, in a nervous way that made Dean struggle not to smile too much.

“Anyway, I like to bake,” you twittered on, “and I had some time this week after…well, you know what happened. So…I brought this!”

You raised up your tupperware with a smile.

And you were damn adorable, Dean thought. His own smile deepened as he glanced down at the offering, then at you. He took the container and opened the lid, and was honestly surprised at what he saw.

He could’ve sworn these were Bonafede, just-poured-out-of-the-box Girl Scout cookies. Dozens of them. He saw shortbreads (complete with the little wavy lines), Samoa cookies with the coconut flakes, and even what looked like chocolate covered Thin Mints. They also smelled delicious.

“Wow. Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, with genuine warmth. “I’m pretty sure the guys are gonna tear these apart the second I put ‘em down.”

Your face brightened, and Dean noticed how it reached your eyes with a bit of a blush.

“Well, I hope you guys enjoy,” you said. Your hands fiddled with your purse next.

“Heading off to work now?” he asked.

“Yep,” you nodded, with a certain glint in your eye. “I plan on taking the stairs this time.”

Dean raised a brow. “All 22 floors?”

“Gotta get my steps in somehow,” you joked. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to become a repeat offender, make you guys come all the way back across town again.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t mind,” he said, meeting your eyes. And he found that he meant it. In fact, he didn’t think he’d mind if your building’s elevator broke down every damn week.

Your expression shifted towards amusement. “Well, you must be very dedicated to your job.”

“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”

“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.

He chuckled. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”

Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you. He had half a mind to heed his instincts, to take advantage of the signals he thought you were sending him, and ask if he could take you out sometime.

But it was unprofessional here at the firehouse (not that that had stopped him before). He’d been making efforts to curb that kind of behavior for the past few months.

He also remembered the 30 floors of your massive, fancy office building. He considered the price tags that probably came with the admittedly sexy, high-powered corporate look you had going on. Those were probably a lot more zeros than he was used to seeing on his paycheck.

So for once, he didn’t pull the trigger.

“Well, thanks. I really do appreciate that,” Dean replied. His smile then was more sincere, if also more professional. He gestured at the container in his hand. “And on behalf of all the guys, thanks for this too.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied. “I have to go, but…thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester.”

“Ah,” he shook his head, “just call me Dean.”

You agreed by smiling, just a little bit more.

“Dean.”

He nodded back, sending you off with a smile of his own. He forced himself to taper it down after you left, and he had to turn around to meet his friends. Their grins reminded him of piranhas.

“All right. Out with it, you freakin’ jackals.” He waved his free hand in a “bring it on” gesture.

Meg was the first one to burst out laughing. It spearheaded the rest of them, whooping and catcalling and generally being menaces. Even Jack was grinning at his lieutenant’s expense.

Meg got up from her seat and bumped Dean’s shoulder on her way to the kitchen, where she dumped her dishes.

“Thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester,” she mocked in a saccharine sweet voice. Then she lowered it into an exaggerated mimic of his deeper one, “Call me Dean, baby girl. Fucking priceless. You should get your own Hallmark movie.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He’d been prepared for this, but his face was still getting warm.

“Shut up, Meg,” he tossed back. They all had an ongoing Family Guy joke that never failed to make their PIC narrow her eyes. And she did so now, giving him a fake grimace as she left the kitchen.

“All right, kiddos. If you need me, don’t,” she said. “Chuck! Let’s sort the ambo’s inventory.”

“Got it,” her partner nodded. He too got up and placed his dishes in the sink before he took off after Meg.

This left Dean with the rest of the guys, who still gave him knowing smiles as he set your bin of cookies down on the table. He blew out a breath before he returned to the couch and sat down heavily across from Benny and Gordon.

“I never thought I’d see the day that Dean Winchester bitched out,” Gordon remarked.

Once again, Dean rolled his eyes.

“Truly incredible,” Benny added. He shook his head when Dean just crossed his arms. “She was eying you like a pork cutlet, and you just let her walk outta here.”

“We’re in the house, guys. What was I supposed to do?” Dean groused.

Benny and Gordon looked at him like he’d just denounced Led Zeppelin (his favorite band of all time). 

“Get her goddamn number, Winchester,” said Gordon. The man’s lips curved. “Or at least, introduce her to a brother.”

Dean shot him a glance. Gordon Walker was damn good at driving the truck, but he was also known for being a hunter of the ladies himself.   

“She seemed nice,” Jack put his two cents in with a smile. He was standing behind the couch, leaning his elbows on it. Gordon scoffed, nodding his agreement.

“Yeah, with a fat ass too,” he said, sipping his tea. 

Benny reached over and hit his shoulder to shut him up. 

“That’s a lady, Gordon,” he said. Though a suspect smile graced his lips as he glanced at Dean. “A lady with a nice ass.” 

Dean shook his head, but he couldn’t disagree. The first time he met you, he’d been impressed by the way you stood your ground with your asshole boss. Dean thought you were going to chuck that lethal looking heel at the guy. But behind that steely exterior was a kind little softie.

Today, he got your sweet side. It was equal parts sexy and adorable. 

And damn if you didn’t have a nice ass, nice curves, and a nice mouth. 

But your eyes, he thought. Those were nothing short of beautiful. 

About twenty minutes across town, an apartment building was swarmed by police cars. One unit in particular was sealed off with yellow caution tape as a team of officers drifted in and out. 

What a fucked way to die.

Detective John Winchester observed the unnatural angle that the victim—Jerry Stillwell, a certified public accountant—had his throat cut with a jagged weapon.

It hadn’t been clean in the least. And he’d bled out across his work desk and a stack of papers, as well as his desktop computer. He was 45, unmarried, and murdered in his own home in the middle of a Friday afternoon.

The computer wouldn’t turn on, and not because of the blood. It had been wiped with magnetized technology, most likely by the intruder. Though there was no sign of forced entry, according to John’s partner. The murder weapon was missing as well, though it looked like a knife wound.

John leaned over the on-site medical examiner’s shoulder to peer closer at the man’s wounds. Stillwell had most likely been grabbed from behind. So far, the signs pointed to the culprit being someone the victim knew.

They probably took Stillwell by surprise, but he was a large man. If John had to guess, over 250 pounds, unathletic, but still, not easy to overpower. Likely the suspect was a man over 6 feet; strong, and efficient. Though the messiness of the kill made John think this guy took "pride" his work, so to speak.

“Signs of struggle,” said the M.E. “Skin under the fingernails. He fought back, and…huh.”

John’s interest piqued at the man’s shift in tone. “What?”

“Take a look at this.” The M.E. was holding Stillwell’s right hand, palm-up, revealing a small burn on the inside of the wrist. John’s gaze sharpened on the mark.

“Cas, come here,” he said. Across the room, Detective Cas Novak paused in his task of examining the entry points of the apartment to join John at his side. His blue eyes widened a fraction at seeing the burn. It was a symbol of a snake eating its own tail.

“That makes four,” Cas said.

“Yep. We’ve got ourselves a murder cluster,” John said. Cas nodded. He beckoned John to the side, making sure the M.E. was out of earshot before he spoke. “Isn’t it time we brought Sam up to speed on this, at least?”

John’s brows furrowed.

“No,” he said. “Sam’s an ADA. We don’t go to him until we have someone to indict.”

He walked away from Cas, who frowned. John knew damn well that wasn’t what he meant. This was the fourth murder within six months of this nature. The fourth to be branded with the mark of Azazel…a criminal who supposedly disappeared decades ago.

Shortly after November 2, 1983, the day of Mary Winchester’s death.

Seeing Dean again had gone better than you thought it would. It left you feeling light and downright cheerful when you left the firehouse this morning. Unfortunately, the great start to your morning only crumbled when you reached your office.

Now, even at the end of your day, finally back at home and in the familiarity of your kitchen, the tension headache was back.

“Dre, I’m tired. Can’t we do this another night?” you asked.

Your cell phone was balanced between your ear and your shoulder as you counted out your grandfather’s pills, and placed them in each “Monday through Sunday” box in the blue container.

“No, we absolutely cannot. Because today was horrific,” Andréa said. “For me, because my coworker decided to play hookie on the day our top account needed the mockups of their new website. Never mind that she hadn’t even started.”

Pause for an aggravated breath, through which you frowned in sympathy. She’d told you the entire story over lunch today.

“And for you, because Nick once again displayed why he’s a subhuman neanderthal, in spectacular fashion,” she added.

Your grimace deepened at the reminder.

Earlier today, just before a sales meeting you were set to lead, you’d turned away from the conference table to set up the projector. Nick was early for once, making it just him and you in the room.

He’d sat back in his chair and uttered a remark that set the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“I’ll tell you what, babe. You sure know how to wear a skirt.”

Your back straightened, and slowly you turned. Your face was set in stone, save for a solitary raise of your brow.

“Excuse me?”

Nick’s smirk was lazy as he kicked his feet up on the table. His hand held a tumbler of whiskey. You noted the half empty carafe, which just yesterday had been full and untouched.

“Fucking fantastic legs,” he said, vaguely outlining your shape with his hand. “I applaud you. It’s all very…sexy secretary. Oooh! Sexcretary. Fucking brilliant.”

You gaped, trying to put a clamp on the furious spike in your blood.

“Are you drunk?” you asked incredulously.

He raised his fingers an inch or so apart, scrunching up his face and trying not to laugh.

“Actually nah, not at all,” he bluffed. 

He let his hand fall back into his lap. You shook your head and set down your papers in order to cross your arms.

“Good. Then you’ll hear me clearly when I say, I’m filing a formal complaint with Billie in HR,” you said.

“Whaaat? Why?” he complained. You huffed incredulously.

“For your little comments, which are getting more and more heinous. Not to mention your excessive drinking during company hours.”

Nick pursed his lips. “Christ on a stick. Can’t you take a fucking compliment?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “What I refuse to take is any further sexual harassment. This isn’t the first incident I could disclose, but I’m damn sure you’ll want it to be the last.”

He kicked his feet off the table and slowly stood. You didn’t want to be afraid of this sloppy, frat boy drunken attitude, but a tendril of trepidation still laced down your spine as you took a step back.

“You could do that,” he nodded, tilting his head. “Or, I’ll give your Zimmerman account to Josh, along with your commission.”

You frowned, and shock made your entire body tense. 

“You…you can’t do that!” you exclaimed. Your insides fairly shook with frustration tinged with anger. “I’ll sue you.”

“With what money?” Nick scoffed.

Your brows knitted together then. How the hell would he know anything about your finances?

The man noted your reaction with a nod.

“Yeah, I know all about grammy and gramps. Surgeries, funerals, treatments…” he said. He leaned against the table with one hand, and still he fairly loomed over you.

He wasn't as broad as someone like Dean, but he was tall and lean. His dirty blonde hair was swept to the side, his blue eyes bearing down on you.

“I am this company. If you don’t like it, you can get the fuck out, sweetheart,” he said.

His gaze lowered, roaming your glowering face.

“And good luck getting anywhere else without a reference from one of the biggest corporations in Lawrence, Kansas.”

You sighed. Yeah, you might’ve shed some frankly embarrassing tears in the women’s bathroom after that. You hadn’t even told Andréa the full story, which included the details of his comments, along with his threats.

You didn’t want her to worry. And maybe, more selfishly, you were embarrassed at having to deal with it at all.

Truth be told, you still didn’t know what the hell you were going to do. About Nick, or your job…but somehow, getting drunk at a bar seemed about the last thing you should be doing.

“I need a drink,” Andréa insisted. “Which means you definitely need a drink. And I know exactly where we’re going.”

After a long moment, you leaned your elbows on the kitchen counter and rubbed through the persistent ache in your forehead. Maybe, just this once, you deserved to forget about reality. Just for a little while.

“Fine. Where?” you asked.

“It’s this great bar Meg told me about. The Roadhouse.”

“Ah, the usual suspects,” Ellen drawled at the men who managed to find seats at her bar, next to the rest of their party. The Roadhouse was packed on a Friday night, but she always had room for these two.

Benny and Dean wore similar tired, but pleasant smiles as they greeted their esteemed barkeep.

“What’s it been, Ellen, a whole shift since I’ve seen your delightful face?” Dean said.

Ellen gave him a mocking smile as she poured him his favorite beer on tap. Dean grinned and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder as he sat down. He and Cas had been waiting for a little while.

…Well, maybe longer than a little.

“Hey, dude,” Dean said. Sam perked up from his second beer with pursed lips.

“You know we’ve been waiting on you for like an hour, right?” he said.

“Aw, don’t get your panties in a twist, Sammy,” Dean teased. He nodded his thanks at Ellen when she set his beer in front of him, and a glass of whiskey for Benny. “We had a last-minute call. Some guy just couldn’t wait to start his Happy Hour. Drove his car into the company fountain.”

Sam’s brows raised incredulously. He looked over at Benny for confirmation, and the other man gave a resigned nod.

“Apparently it set the ducks into a tizzy,” he said. “The guy’s fine. Probably gonna get slapped with a DUI.”

Dean smirked and raised a finger at both Sam and Cas. “Duck Guy’s your problem now.”

Cas shook his head and raised his beer to his lips.

“Not my department.”

“Mine either,” Sam scoffed. Both of them worked in homicide cases, just from the differing sides of law and order. In fact, they worked together more often than Dean and Cas did.

Dean looked over at his friend Cas for a moment. He looked like more of a hot mess than usual, with his tie half undone, and a scruffy half-beard covering his face.

“Geez, man. You look like shit,” Dean remarked. “You and Meg fighting again?”

“No,” Cas replied, his brows furrowing. “…Well, yes. But nothing more than her usual insanity. Something about the cat preferring to sleep next to me than to her.”

“Well, that’s not so bad,” Benny said. “My dog don’t like her either.”

“Maybe they can smell that she’s feral,” Dean quipped. Cas sent him a dry look at that.

“She threatened to move out,” he revealed. “Even packed a bag at 3:00 in the morning. I spent two hours unpacking what she was re-packing, all while we argued in our underwear, not sleeping.”

Sam and Dean shared bemused looks, while Benny shook his head into his whiskey.

“So how’d it end up?” Sam asked. Cas sighed and took another long sip of his beer.

“Like it always ends, Sam,” he said, his lips quirking. “With our neighbors calling the precinct to complain, and me, somehow ending up sleeping on the couch for a crime I didn’t commit. If she wants to blame someone, blame the goddamn cat.”

Dean chortled. He brought his beer to his lips, but couldn’t resist a light jab at his best friend first.

“Dude, I love her like a sister, but your girlfriend’s unhinged,” he said.

Cas could only nod. “Most are, I’ve come to find.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head. “Not mine.”

“Yeah, that’s because Eileen doesn’t have to see you more than two minutes at a time,” Dean teased. He and his brother still shared an apartment, and Sam’s job as an Assistant District Attorney wrought demanding hours.

Sam shot his brother a flat look.

“Oh, I’m not taking that from the serial playboy,” he said.

Dean’s brows knitted together.

“All right, calm down,” he said. “I’m not Hugh Hefner.”

“Mr. Hit and Run,” Cas added, a smirk gracing his features.

“Chief ‘No Daddy Issues,’” Benny tipped in, giving his annoyed, green-eyed friend a sly glance. “With a side helping of the Clap.”

Dean’s lips pressed into a line. He leveled a finger at Benny.

“That girl was clean, okay? False alarm,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward as he sipped his beer. Thank Christ for that one. “The rash was just carpet burn.”

Sam shook his head and turned to his brother more seriously.

“Bottom line: until you date a woman for more than two weeks—hell, two days at a time—you don’t get to comment on the happily committed,” he said. 

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew his track record with relationships. As in, he didn’t really have a record…but it wasn’t for lack of trying. At least, not for the past few months.

Sam managed to break Dean out of his thoughts by clearing his throat, pushing his empty bottle across the counter.

“All right, speaking of. I gotta go,” he said.

“Aw, why? We just got here. Let me buy you another,” Dean offered.

Sam shot his brother another knowing look. Dean knew it well; it said, if he’d been here on time, they would’ve shared the first two drinks.

“I’m picking up Eileen,” Sam said, grabbing his blazer and fixing the collar when he put it on. “There’s this Latin club she wants to go to.”

Dean raised incredulous brows.

“My brother’s going salsa dancing?”

Sam sighed in exasperation, despite his smile. “Bye, Dean.”

He shot his other two friends a nod.

“See you guys.”

Cas and Benny both saw him off with a subtle raise of their drinks, while Dean just shook his head.

“All right, Samantha,” he called out. Sam didn’t bother to turn around as he raised up a choice finger behind him.

Dean snorted into his drink. “Very mature.”

Benny and Cas shared a wry look. They were relieved when Ellen’s daughter Jo came by, picking up the slack for her mom, who was serving a rowdy group of college kids at a nearby table.

“Hey, guys. Need another round?” Jo asked. She gave them all a familiar smile, but her eyes lingered on Dean. He gave her a more reserved smile back.

“Hey, Jo,” he nodded. “I uh…actually think I’m good right now.”

“Me too,” Cas said. He even stood up and grabbed his trenchcoat in similar fashion as Sam had. The two had paid for their beers before Benny and Dean even got there.

“Aw, not you too,” Dean groused.

“If I don’t make dinner, we run the risk of the apartment going up in flames,” Cas informed him. Dean could only assume he was talking about Meg. “Despite working with the Fire Department for ten years, the woman can’t manage to boil an egg without supervision.”

Jo raised a brow, but her smile was bemused as she turned to Benny. “Anything for you?”

“Nah, darlin’. I’m good,” he said. But sensing the unspoken request in her eyes when she glanced at Dean, Benny straightened and raised from his seat. “But I’ll be back. Need’a hit the head.”

Dean internally sighed as Benny left him alone at the bar. Or, well, relatively alone. Jo lingered in front of him to wash and dry out a few glasses. The air between them was stiff, and a little awkward.

Dean’s thoughts shifted back to his brother then; while he still couldn’t believe Eileen had wrangled his gangly Sasquatch of a brother into going dancing, Dean was happy for him. Truly and sincerely. Sam deserved having someone who softened him, made him break away from his endless cases and have some fun.

Dean could also admit, if only to himself, that he was maybe a little jealous. Sam had something good with his girl. Something real.

Dean had carpet burn.

“So, how’s studying going?” he asked Jo. He couldn’t stand awkward silences. “Still planning on giving your mom a heart attack when you get into the Police Academy?”

Jo’s blue eyes flicked up to his. She brushed a coil of blond hair behind her ear after she finished drying a glass, and a smile raised the corner of her lips.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I gave her something to yell about,” she quipped. “But since you asked…my exam is in three months.”

“Good,” Dean nodded. “You’ve got time. Study your ass off. Keep up the conditioning routine I gave you, and you’ll be set. Just don’t forget the strength training. Very important.”

“I got it,” she said, this time with a brighter smile. “Some old firefighter gave me some pointers.”

Dean tilted his beer at her accusingly.

“Hey, don’t pin that old shit on me yet. Benny’s got more mileage than I do…”

He considered her then, after briefly looking down at the counter.

“What?” she said.

He kept his lips tight. “Nothin’.”

“No, Dean. What?” Jo pressed. “You want to say something. Say it.”

He blew out a breath and shook his head.  

“Ellen’s not the only one who’s gonna worry about you on the job, that’s all,” he said. Jo flickered at a rueful frown.

“That’s ironic,” she said. “I can handle myself, Dean. Something you so often seem to forget.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” he shot back. His hand tightened around his beer.

Jo’s face fell into irritation, mostly to cover up the hurt he saw buried deep behind her eyes. She gave him some relief by glancing away from him.

“And this is why we didn’t work out,” she muttered. Sighing through her nose, her eyes met his again. “You know what I hate, more than anything? People worrying.”

Dean carded his fingers through his hair, his brows knitting together in aggravation.

“Yeah, well, maybe they have good reason to,” he said. He could’ve predicted the way she tightened up. “And if I remember right, you did your fair share of hand-wringing the next time I responded to a fire on the job.”

He knew it was a low blow. But his point was made, and he fully expected the anger in Jo’s tight frown. They’d dated for a few weeks, mostly in secret.

That had been enough for Ellen to blow her top. Not because she had anything against Dean…just his job: at the very same firehouse her late husband had once served.

So Dean had backed off. He’d ultimately felt he had to end it. And clearly, Jo still resented him for it.

Slowly, however, the fire in her eyes dimmed. Her finger tapped on her side of the bar counter.

“You think I don’t worry anymore just because we’re not together?” she asked him. 

Dean didn’t have a good answer for her. So his gaze fell to his nearly empty beer.

But he was even more relieved when Benny finally got back from the bathroom, or wherever he’d fucked off to for the past few minutes.

He did seem to know that he was interrupting a rather tense moment. Seeing as neither Dean nor Jo wanted to break the silence, Benny supposed it fell on him.

He reclaimed his seat and raised a smile up at Jo.

“I think I’m ready for the next round,” he said, glancing at Dean’s soured mood. “Two whiskeys, please, Joanna.”

Jo treated Benny with a half-smile. He was the only one besides her mother who called her Joanna (and got away with it). After one last look at Dean, she reached over for the Jim Beam.

You met Andréa at the bar in your own car, just in case you needed to dip out early to check on Grandpa George. He was happy to see you going out.

“You’re pretty as a doll, sweetheart,” he’d said, patting your cheek after you kissed his goodbye.

The thought made you smile, even though you thought you were dressed casually in your dark wash jeans and blouse. When Andréa met you outside the bar, she nodded in approval.

“Good. I like the hint of sexy,” she said, plucking at the sweetheart neckline of your top. You rolled your eyes and tried to cover up the cleavage a little, but she batted at your hand.

“No, no. Leave your professionalism at work,” she said. “Tonight, you’re going to relax and have some fun.”

It was hard to think about loosening up when you were literally getting belittled and threatened at work…but you supposed she had a point. You always had to be put together. You had to be sharp, because this world wouldn’t hand you anything on a silver platter.

And not to mention, you couldn’t just think about yourself. You also had to provide and take care of your grandfather too. He was the only family you had left, and you were it for him too…

But you took in a slow, deep breath. Tonight, you could have a couple of drinks with your friend. You could just be yourself, with no responsibilities other than not getting too drunk to drive yourself home later.

So with a sigh, you smiled and linked your arm with Andréa as you headed inside the Roadhouse.

It looked kind of divey from the outside, a worn-looking brown building with a faded red sign. But inside it was all dark wood and leather barstools and rows of soft lighting overhead.

There were records displayed on the wall; Prince’s Purple Rain, the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, and David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust, among others. Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” played on the wall speakers.

There were several tables, both high top and regular four-seaters, as well as a long bar that spanned the far wall, where rows and rows of liquor were showcased. You followed Andréa’s lead to the bar, where you took a seat at the far end and tried to feel like you belonged here. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out to a place like this.

“This is nice,” she leaned over into your ear to say. “Next time my cousin should meet us here. She’s a handful, but I think you’d like her.”

You agreed with a smile. “If she’s anything like you, I think I’m well trained to handle your brand of insanity.”

Andréa leveled you with a playfully mocking look.

“Ah, you’ve got jokes tonight. Okay.” She waved over the blonde bartender.

“Hi, ladies,” she greeted. “I’m Jo. What’re we starting off with tonight?”

Before you could order for yourself, Andréa grabbed your arm and spoke over you.

“Do you have absinthe?” she asked.

Your eyes widened. “What?! I’m not drinking that—”

“Sure do,” Jo replied in amusement.

“Great,” said Andréa. You didn’t like her sly grin. “She’ll have an Aunt Roberta. I’ll have a vodka cranberry.”

“What the hell is an Aunt Roberta?” you asked.

Jo listed the ingredients on her fingers. “A nice molotov of brandy, vodka, gin, blackberry liqueur, and of course, absinthe.”

Jesus Christ. You shot Andréa a glare, even though you were trying to dim your smile.

“Are you trying to chill me out or fucking end me?” you asked.

Andréa smirked. “Whatever it takes.”

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded your agreement. Jo’s smile remained as she went to prepare your drinks. Meanwhile, your eyes wandered as you once again took in your surroundings.

Really is a cool place, you thought. And it was busy without being overbearingly crowded. There were even a few seats between you and the rest of the patrons at the bar. Your gaze drew a path onwards, eventually reaching the other end of the bar.

There you caught sight of red flannel over a black undershirt, familiar broad shoulders, and an even more familiar face. Your eyes widened a fraction as his met yours, gleaming with recognition…and interest.

That slow smile of his was familiar too. It made a lance of heat run down your spine. You gripped the counter, mostly to steady yourself as you let out a breath.

Lieutenant Winchester.

AN: *rubs hands together* It begins. 😏

Lol how'd you like Dean's little moment with the reader at the firehouse? Plus the introduction of the rest of our cast!

(And a possible serial killer on the loose?) Though sorry about Nick. He's a douchecanoe.

Next Time:

Anticipation and nerves coiled together in your lower belly. You turned to your friend, who was already sipping at her vodka cranberry.

“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.

Andréa discreetly followed the path of your gaze, and her brows raised. A smirk curved her lips.

“Oh, babe. You need to help yourself,” she replied.

“I haven’t done that in a while,” you admitted. Your dating life had been sorely lacking, between the demands of your job and taking care of things at home. “I’m gonna say something demented.”

Andréa huffed in amusement.

“So? That’s half the fun,” she said.

Keep Reading: PART 3

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#Lieutenant Winchester #Smoke Eater #Part 2 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester #castiel #benny lafitte #john winchester #Meg Masters #Jack Kline #Gordon Walker #chuck shurley #jo harvelle #ellen harvelle #andrea kormos #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #zepskies writes

[luvadosar]

Random & weirdly specific SFW/NSFW Vox head-cannons because I lije him

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

SFW:

- Though he does drink coffee, he isn’t a coffee addict surprisingly, I feel like he wouldn’t drink coffee unless he absolutely thinks he has to. Also, he likes to flex his awesome coffee cup. His average cup of joe consists of probably 6-8 oz of coffee, like 10 sugar packs , & 2 oz of creamer.

- You probably realized my not so subtle hints towards Vox loving sugar, because of his eccentric demeanor and his loud self, he would obviously love sugary sweets, not as much as drinks though. Vox is like those type of people who survive off of 10 energy drinks per day rather than water, claiming it was “cool”. I wouldn’t be surprised if he started the monster can craze in 2020.

- HIS BEDROOM GUYS, his bedroom. The vast majority of his bedroom is, surprise, blue. It’s messy but in a “good” way? I don’t know how to explain it but his room is not food or clothes messy. It’s cable cord messy, like back of the tv hooked up to the gaming system messy LMAO. He doesn’t visit his room a lot; he doesn’t even call it “his room” but I am. Blue led lights everywhere, tv screens all over the walls just like his office. The man doesn’t even have a bed! I also think his room is filled with unsuccessful prototypes of his old VoxTek shit. If you’re super close to him he’d let you play with them <3

- If you want to “win his heart” I think you’re gonna wanna know a thing or two about technology. If not prepare for hours of him ranting about shit you don’t know. Because wdf

- Despite him being a bratty piss baby, he’s intelligent, he’s a fucking technology engineer, businessman, & founder of a huge company in Pentagram City for god’s sake . Just not emotionally and actually fun fact, smarter people have trouble connecting with emotions of other people, hence why he’s so manipulative and whatnot. (Smart people do stupid shit) I compare him to Elon Musk or something

- So his phone…whats on his phone?! Seriously what the fuck is on his phone. There is actually a ss of hell’s apps on one of the imps phone, I will post it here! But firstly the only apps that’ll be on his phone is VoxFlix, Sinstagram (even though he’s probably more of a stalker than a poster) Envee (TikTok), and all the other apps that come with the Vphone. He probably does not have the hell equivalent to facebook because “who the fuck uses hellbook” guys he watches porn btw.

- For a tiny small fraction of angst, though he has a relationship with reader…i dont think he’ll stop watching porn (not that he has a crippling porn addiction lmao…he watches it every now and then) unless you really get in your feelings about it. But then he’ll just think you’re totally overreacting.

NSFW

- Speaking of porn, his deep desires is to record a video of him absolutely fucking your brains out…or if youre a top…you absolutely fucking HIS brains out.

- (For my switches) First time he realized you top too, he was reluctant at first because, what would that do to his sweet repuation? If someone finds out? If someone finds him bent over the table, caught him pants down, getting penetrated by a dick (silicone or real), the risks of someone taking a pic and posting it for everyone to see especially Alas— sorry guys.

- (For my tops) BIG PISS BABY. Complains all the fucking time. About how much it hurts and wanting you to slow down for a second so he can catch his breath. Seeing him glitch at your nasty remarks. And if you’re a mean top, he fucking hates it so good but it feels so bad. Seeing him cry about the negative attention you’re sending his way, he craves nothing more than to be perceived in a positive light. Thats why he hates alastor cause he thinks he hates him so therefore he hates him back 🤷🏽‍♀️. But if you’re a nice top, get ready for needy Vox.

- Like I said he’s a power bottom if you’re a top, he just doesn’t know it yet <3

- Big sucker for praise. Wants to be called a good boy. I will admit he was shy at first about you commanding him to call himself a good boy for that sweet long awaited praise. Poor baby ;(

- “I-I’m a good…good boy..?” ^^^

- His cum is not blue guys 😔… his cum is milky, stiky like caramel, sweet like pineapple, and white like a sheet of paper.

- IT WOULD BE SO COOL IF I INCLUDE SCARY DETAILS ABOUT HIS DICK GUYS!! 👻👻 /hj

- Girth: 2.5in Length: 6-7in Tip color: #03cafc Number and placement of veins: 3 noticeable veins, two crossing diagonally from eachother and more closer to the balls, the other one is more closer to the tip Base color: #304891 Miscellaneous: slightly curved to the right (it’s barely there but if you look closely). Grower > Shower

yall i had to re upload because i came to my senses that i dont see vox topping at all like he’s too…HIM for that. 😭 im so embarrassed dont be alarmed if i say i will literally eat the nearest brick wall like a cake !

#hazbin hotel x reader #hellaverse #hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanon #headcanon

[httpsserene]

ʟᴇᴛ’ꜱ ɢᴏ ɢᴏʟꜰɪɴɢ ᴡ/ ʟɴ4

📖ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: maybe you shouldn’t be late to any event you go to, or bare minimum don’t make any bets you know you’re not going to win. having no hand-eye coordination is not great when you’re being forced to play golf.

📖ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: i think i’m funny. one or two dirty jokes. and reader does have a lil injury (nothing bad). not edited at all 😎

📖ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: the doc says 900 words?? it feels longer idk

📖ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: lando x black!fem!reader (it’s mainly twitch trio focused-alex,george & lando)

📖ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smau

📖ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ: swang • rae sremmurd

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴀᴄᴇ: i’d like to remind everyone that the people asked for this hellscape! you 🫵🏽 asked for it. it’s long, like LONG. anyways: max is definitely the type of dude to use the cat emojis. my bad to my charles girlies, he did not make the cut for this 😔 i had to get rid of like three or four ig posts and stories to make this all fit into one tblr post, and none of that had charles content 🫠. also, the plot damn near ran away from me, but it’s barely there—it’s kinda more friend focused than lando x reader until the end! uh there’s one part in here that was inspired by tik tok comments, y’all will know which one 😅 inspired by the fact that my brother hit me with a golf club when i was a child 🙂i think i’m pretty funny so i hope you guys find this funny asl, otherwise what did i do this for?

if you want me to post the outtakes lmk

send me some requests or talk to me pls 😅

want to be on a tag list? tell me in my inbox &lt;3

georgerussell63

liked by lilymhe, mercedesamgf1, and 4,100,123 others

georgerussell63: off to a terrible start for golf day. my girlfriends “wife” is crashing the party, and my mates gf is already -4 after two holes 🙂

view comments

lilymhe: light work 💪🏼 no reaction🥱

user: not his girlfriend’s wife ☠️

➥ user: who does he think keeps carmen’s bed warm when he’s not at home???

alex_albon: welcome to watch mojo! and today we’re counting down our top 10 times our gf’s ditch us for each other 🤨

➥ user: and?

➥ user: what else are they supposed to do alexander 😀

y/ninstagram: put some respeCK on my name princling, or next time i see u its on sight 😡 im aiming the golf club straight at you

➥ georgerussell63: you can’t even hit the golf ball in under three tries, or aim anywhere near the holes

➥ georgerussell63: i think i’ll be fine

➥ y/ninstagram: 😟😐 i'll remember this george william russell, ur asking for it

carmenmmundt: george failed to mention that he’s +3 already

➥ georgerussell: like, literally nobody asked you to say that 😒

➥ landonorris: drag him !!! he doesn’t get to say shit about our wife 😤

➥ carmenmmundt: *my wife

➥ user: lmfaooo im 💀

alex_albon

liked by y/ninstagram, carmenmmundt and 3,431,543 others

alex_albon: ladies and gentlemen, introducing: *my* girlfriend 🤤✨

tagged lilymhe

view comments

y/ninstagram: we MUST stay focused sisters

y/ninstagram: gawd damn‼️ wifey could hit me with that golf club any day

➥ carmenmmundt: fuck the club, i’ll let her run me over w the cart🥴

lilymhe: next hole, i’ll show you guys what a proper stoke is 😏

➥ lilymhe: since our bf’s seem to underperform…on the golf course obv

➥ user: AYOOO?!!

➥ carmenmmundt: okay 😇

➥ y/ninstagram: why r my thighs wet rn

➥ user: dO THEY KNOW THIS IS PUBLIC

alex_albon: i’m at a loss for words

➥ landonorris: this is literally your fault

➥ georgerussell63: can’t believe you mate 🫤

➥ alex_albon: how is this MY fault??! whattddiddiddoo

lilymhe • 5hrs ago

view replies

y/ninstagram: idk y ur complaining? the cart is parked. on its side, but it’s parked😊

carmenmmundt: i think we’ve punished ourselves

alex_albon: should’ve left her ass at home like i said 😒

francisca.cgomes: idk even know why y’all let her drive the cart😨

y/ninstagram • 4 hrs ago

view replies

maxfewtrell: ur joeeee kingggg. ur joe king 😐

francisca.cgomes: i wouldn’t even trust u with the scorecard—but pop off !!! girl boss shit

danielricciardo: SO I HAD TO, GRIND LIKE THAT TO SHINE LIKE THIS 🗣️🗣️‼️💯

lando.jpg

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and 3,862,431 others

lando.jpg: “i have the highest score out of everybody here! +26 up on y’all hoes!” - y/n

tagged y/ninstagram

view comments

lando.jpg: BRO SAID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING 🥶🥶🔥🔥🔥

➥ maxfewtrell: SHE SOUNDS FIRE 🔥 ON MUTE ‼️💯

lilymhe: SHE GOT A HIDDEN TALENT 🔥🔥🔥 KEEP IT HIDDEN 🔥🔥🔥

➥ alex_albon: no talent ✅ JUST STRAIGHT ASS 💯💯🗣️🗣️🔥🔥

georgerussell63: THIS IS FIRE 🔥 PUT IT OUT ‼️

user: SHE SPITTING BARS 💯💯💯 PUT HER BEHIND THEM 🔥🔥🔥

user: THE SILENCE IS SO LOUD WHEN THIS HITS 🗣️🔥🔥

user: WE STARTED FROM THE BOTTOM 🔥🔥🔥 NOW WE’RE DIGGING 🗣️🗣️🔥💯‼️🙌🏽🙌🏽

y/ninstagram: y u hurt me 😪

➥ carmenmmundt: i think you’re underrated, honestly &lt;; 3

➥ y/ninstagram: aw ty carmie :)

➥ carmenmmundt: I HOPE IT STAYS THAT WAY 🥶🥶‼️‼️🙌🏻🙌🏻

➥ y/ninstagram: bee-eff-eff-aur: be FUCKING for real 😒

y/ninstagram • 3 hrs ago

view replies

maxverstappen1: i don’t want to laugh—man who TF am i kidding 😹😹😹

alexandrasaintmleux: how THE fuck did u manage to give yourself a concussion??!

carlossainzjr: pobrecita😪 how 😭 terrible 😭 can you tell lando to come over when ur done

carlossainzjr: hello

carlossainzjr: niña i can see you reading my messages

landonorris

liked by carlossainzjr, mclaren, and 6,234,765 others

landonorris: thank you for all the wishes about y/n (not u carlos, you’re in time out). she only has a mild concussion, and verbally assaults me when i wake her up every two hours 😒 to make sure she’s alive 🤗

view comments

landonorris: god forbid i stop her from dying 😱

➥ carlossainzjr: heyyy be nice to her she’s in another world right now

➥ landonorris: u r not slick sainz. don’t expose our affair to my gf when she’s injured

➥ carlossainzjr: she won’t even remember this 🥺

➥ user: sir👁️👄👁️, this is a wendy’s drive through

➥ user: they know this on the internet 4ever right…?

lilymhe: this girl swung the club, missed the ball, and let go of the damn club no follow through

➥ carmenmmundt: it hit the ground and ricocheted back at her

➥ alex_albon: and she got knocked on the forehead hard asl

➥ georgerussell63: the noise it made was hilarious 😂 y’all should’ve been there

➥ user: geORGE WILLIAM????

➥ georgerussell63: i’m mad we didn’t get it on video smh 😔

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems

© httpsserene 2023

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 smau #lando norris #alex albon #george russell #charles leclerc #lando norris smau #lando norris x female reader #lando norris x black!reader #lando norris x yn #lando norris imagine #george russell x reader #alex albon x reader #f1 x black!reader #f1 scenario #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #max verstappen x reader #serene’s fave. #serene’s chapters. #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz jr #lando norris x y/n #daniel ricciardo #f1 x you #charles leclerc x reader #⋆⭒˚｡⋆. series special: formula 1 #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: ln. #✩°｡⋆⸜ smau

[notthecity]

I have been freaking out on Twitter about the magic 8 ball songs and the medley and tourdust in general but like you don't understand. you don't UNDERSTAND. it's not just the fact we've gotten stuff they haven't ever played. it's not just that they're bringing back deep cuts. it's not just all of that.

it's the fact we're all older. the guys are twenty years older, most people in here have been fob fans for at least a decade. it's the fact that they're not just playing them for the nostalgia factor, they're doing it because this tour is a celebration of two decades worth of this weird little emo band that changed the emo scene forever and became legends to at least two generations of emo kids so far.

it's the fact they've gained the courage to play folie a deux. the album patrick said they would likely never play live again because of the initial reception, the album that got booed whenever they played songs off it live in 2008-2009. it's the fact that headfirst slide went from a very shaky first attempt at a secret show to a setlist regular pat can now sing with a smile every night.

it's the fact that pete wentz, who thought he'd die young, who thought he'd join the 27 club, is now a father in his early 40s playing his bass and having fun with his best friends while they play songs about the time he almost ended it all. it's the fact we've seen him not only heal, but highlight the scars and the beauty in the pain. like kintsugi.

it's the fact andy and joe got exactly what they wanted. joe got a guitar album he loved, he got to focus on himself and take some time off knowing full well the band and the fans had his back, being included in everything from music videos to promotional things, and now he can enjoy his time going on the road again in a better state of mind. it's the fact andy lives for drumming, and he can do what he does best with his favorite song on the album, one that he basically begged to play the entire press run for the album.

it's the fact that the piano medley songs let patrick lay his heart out for everyone to see. it's the fact he's playing golden, what a catch, beautiful songs we haven't heard in so long. it's the fact he's gotten the courage to sing fucking soul punk in front of a crowd that ten years earlier told him they liked him better in fall out boy, to make a new spiritual successor in stardust and sing it too. it's the fact he's lost the fear to do those things, because he's realized there's nothing to fear anymore, people will sing back those songs to him with affection.

it's the fact they're also doing newer stuff. the fact they haven't forgotten about srar, ab/ap, mania. they still affirm those parts of their history, because they are still unashamedly fall out boy.

it's the fact these four guys have all gone through hell and back together, and we're all stronger on the other side. it's the fact we've all grown up together, and now we're all adults in this fucked up world trying to figure ourselves out but we know it will be okay because we made it through all that and we're still standing. it's the fact that they built it, and we came, and we stayed.

it's the fact we're still here.

#fall out boy #fob #patrick stump #pete wentz #andy hurley #joe trohman #tourdust #so much for (tour) dust #so much for stardust #this fucking tour is gonna be the death of me #i'm going to the very last eu date #and i'm gonna cry my eyes out at golden and whatever they play #is2g the fame infamy live debut was insane #and then 27 this week... like what the fuck #so much love for folie and ioh #but also wdtpg which i'm so thankful for #just aaaaah i'm so happy #i love this stupid emo band

[alwynsalps]

So obviously after the Joe breakup shit changed we had that ratty twatty and then suddenly travis. Like ratty twatty first of all made it seem like you know this person is like horrible yet you choose to be with him? Everyone called her (rightfully) out I feel like cause he is really a twat of a person and the whole ice spice collab to basically "save" Matty twattys image. I also felt like it was unfair of her fans to force her to break up with him I mean it's her life. And Joe during this time went through so much shit after the break up I remember he was papped and everyone made fun of how skinny he is and how horrible he looks (he had bags under his eyes on the photo) which is actually sad cause he lost his grandmother I think during that time and people were genuinely saying disgusting things and saying mother is looking so much better etc etc while Joe was having a downwards spiral. Again I understand no one knew his depression was that bad but fuck swifties can be more kind.

Exit ratty twatty enter travesty lord this man gives me the ick.

Swifties are blinded by their relationship but he is really not a good dude. I mean that video live of him pushing his coach and yelling? Videos online of him being openly racist, being a trump supporter (and also swifties are dumb they think bc he got vaccinated and bent the knee for black lives matter he is somehow Democrat?) honey trump is vaccinated as well. And just because he supported blm does not make him a good person. He was PAID to do all that performative shit.

I mean she has millions of fans, thousands of young girls thinking the blatant red flags of travesty is hot and shit. Tells me he can push her around too. (not to mention he supported his abusive friend that literally hit his wife.)

And it feels like she's forcing travesty tbh? Like girlie you wanted the art to be about you yet you let some man overshadow it. Because truly that's what's happening like swifties are more into him at this point and the relationship they made up in their head as Taylor.

This is where I got annoyed and took a step back. Each time they were seen Joe got thousands and thousands of hate just for what being introverted?

Then they attacked Emma (Joe's Co worker) for a cheating rumor THEY MADE UP and the shit they said were so genuinely disgusting she had to switch off her comments.

Then Ai audio dropped about Joe abusing Taylor and Ai videos circled making it seem like Joe is a cheater when he is NOT. fuck they even trended a sex scene with that Alison chick he worked with saying he said Alison (her real name) and not her character's name when he DID NOT. It was in the fucking series! This woman got slut shamed so bad she turned off comments too for literally WORKING with Joe. Swifties literally spread shit around that he cheated on Taylor with Emma and Alison when he didn't! And the fucking best of all Taylor was on the set while filming conversations with friends. She most likely saw it IN PERSON and they chose to say all this genuinely disgusting shit about Alison who I've learned is actually a pretty good person.

Here I got genuinely disgusted.

So okay again I understand that Taylor can't control all her fans but her silence while her cult mass harrases people?

Whats insane to me is Joe. Like the guy got so much hate because SHE CHOSE to lead fans on. When she announced ttpd everyone thought the title relates to Joe and Paul mescal

Joe got mass hate

Then the secret songs at eras being about cheating

Joe got death threats

ALL TO BE AN ALBUM ABOUT THE FUCKING SEWER RAT SHE CAN'T GET OVER?!

she literally took ALL the hate against Joe *knowing* she's releasing an album dissing her 6 weeks situationship is genuinely disgusting. I cannot fathom it.

And AND the only thing she could say about Joe is dude did not want to marry her bc he was severely depressed WHICH IS NOT HER PLACE TO TALK ABOUT HIS STRUGGLES?

like I am SORRY this man wants to d word next to her and she just didn't care and wanted to fuck Matty?

Her partner, that got her through her darkest times BTW, did not deserve this.

She let all this mass harrasment just happen to market ttpd. Like genuinely what the actual fuck. 2 innocent women Emma and Alison were attacked and called sluts for genuinely existing and breathing the same air as Joe. And the proof he did not cheat is in her OWN lyrics. (which swifties cannot seem to fucking read bc they'd rather attack Joe than admit this album is about a sewer nazi rat)

The hate Joe got made me cry. The disgusting things they said about him. Swifties literally threatening to bash his head in with a hammer or that he needs to hang himself and they'd enjoy seeing his body swinging from the roof.

Genuinely why would any person say this to anyone at any time?

And they made fun of depression like. What. The. Fuck. Just because Joe might not see it does not mean other people with crippling depression won't.

Oh and a side note she's still bringing up Kim on albums? Not just Kim Kim's CHILD?! leave the kid alone.

Genuinely feel like the most honest Taylor we got was during lover (a time which Joe helped her voice her political opinions and shit) and idk I just feel cheated on?

My whole life I've defended Taylor against everyone and I genuinely feel like she's showing her true colors now being with travesty and ratty and I cannot fathom how this is the same Taylor I'm seeing now as she was like a few years ago.

And it's not just Joe that got death threats BTW. When midnights came out and everyone gave honest reviews cause that evil Jack antonof little gay man ruined the production there were journalists literally getting so much death threats its insane.

Taylor gets (rightfully) called out and fans can't handle it.

She needs to address them ASAP. All these parasocial freaks. The people harrasing Joe. The people literally only seeing Taylor as a breeder for travestys children.

I can't genuinely I can't this is not how I want to feel about Taylor I mean I gave her my youth I looked up to her so much I feel so disappointed in the way she's acting yk?

Yes maybe she can't do jack shit about swifties but she can try.

And her staying quiet over Palestine? Her voice her one post about a ceasefire could change EVERYTHING.

idk at this point I can't stand to be around Taylor.

#anti taylor swift #free joe alwyn #joe alwyn #Swifties dni #anti travis kelce

[heartofwritiing]

Rest Easy

paring: musicianbur x fem!reader

summary: Wilbur overworks himself which results in him falling asleep in your lap in the studio. based on one of an idea I had from this

authors note: I was feeling a little bummed so I wanted to write something quick and fluffy I hope you guys like it!

warnings: fluff, one swear, unedited, and not proofread, please ignore any mistakes!

The text you got from Wilbur when you were on your way to your apartment was short but sweet.

-Gonna be home later than usual, working on a bug in the studio with a particular song. don't wait up for me if you’re hungry love you <3

It was only around 6:45pm which was a bit late for him work wise. So, since you were close by anyways, and your stomach was growling to eat something, you headed straight for the studio a few blocks away. Making a small stop at the sandwich place on the way he always raved about.

You knew his order by hear so you didn’t bother messaging him, plus you wanted to surprise him.

Arriving at the studio you entered the control room, noticing the red light was on indicating the band was recording. You quietly shut the door behind you, and John-their music producer- swiveled around in his chair to give you a small wave. Everyone else you could see through the glass window in the recording room was chilling with their respective instruments as you guessed, waiting for instructions.

You could hear a backing track of guitars and drums play through the speakers, as the warm baritone voice of your boyfriend mixed in with the instrumentals lulled you into a state of comfort.

"Fuck," he swore through the mic when he messed up a line. It echoed through the speakers reverberating off the walls. He just wanted to get this last bit right and then they would be done. You couldn’t help the giggle you let out at his minor outburst of annoyance. you swore you thought he could hear you through the padded walls because his eye line met yours through the window, a look of surprise crossed his face. Lifting your hand that held the bag of food with a wave, his eyes lit up with alleviation and gratitude, he motioned for you to come in.

You somehow maneuvered your way passed all the wires and various equipment strew all over the studio without tripping. Wilbur Pulls you into and bone crushing hug after a few hours of separation he couldn’t wait to get his arms around you.

“You didn’t have to bring me food,” he says pulling back, giving your cheek a quick peck.

You give him a frowned look. “who said it was food for you, smart guy?” Jokingly of course.

Wilbur just deadpans.

“Come on, you went to my favorite sandwich place,” Wilbur lifted your arm still holding the take away bag to prove a point. He saw the logo of the shop on the front. “walked two blocks just to bring it to where I am.”

Damn, he caught right on to your ruse. You rolled your eyes playfully and threw up your metaphorical flag in defeat.

“okay, fine you caught me, I thought id be nice and bring you something to make sure you don’t starve, especially after such a long day, sue me.” You stepped closer once again to give a kiss to his lips.

Wilbur hummed in appreciation before leaning in.

“and that is why I love you,”

“because I bring you food?”

“precisely my love,”

Joe who was scrolling through instagram on the loveseat against the wall was listening to the whole exchange with a smirk pulling at his lips until he spoke up.

“You two are disgustingly cute,”

You pulled away from Wilburs lips reluctantly and turned your head to the amused Joe, who you didn’t even know was still here.

“we try our best,” you shrug.

You trudge over to where Joe was sitting and plop down beside him while Wilbur gets back to work to finish up this last line. Not knowing he was gonna be here you didn’t think about getting Joe something but he waved you off saying he would get something afterwards.

Watching Wilbur sing into the mic was a whole thing. He seemed so lost in his words when he sang, concentration purely written across his face as his throat muscles bob with each note. You thought he constantly so good but today he just looked so damn good. His hair was fluffed in a particular direction, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose and his eye brows scrunched as he pressed his full lip’s against the pop filter.

You felt so dumb at the jealousy of an inanimate object surging through you as you watched him wet his lips with his tongue and they brushed the mesh.

He must’ve felt eyes staring at the side of his head because, he turns his head in your direction with a smirk and that glint in his eye that makes your body heat. He sends you a wink as he finishes a word, then quickly puts his attention back forward.

Happily, about a few minutes later, Wilbur came to sit next to you, munching away at his sandwich. You both chatted away about your day eventually he had to get back to finish up the recording.

About half an hour later you were both still in the studio. Joe had already left but Wilbur was adamant to get this last track perfect.

"Wil, honey?" you called out, he lifts one headphone and he raises his eyebrows at you.

"I think you should rest, just for tonight, you've done so much and you looked exhausted, and it's getting really late we should head home." concern laced your voice and made him consider stopping for a moment.

You had checked the time once again peering at your phone and saw the time read: 1:33 am. But you knew him too well.

It wasn't fair of him to keep you here all night. You had work in the morning as well. Wilbur felt the guilt gnawing at his chest, the yawn in his voice telling him to rest. rest. rest.

"I'm sorry love, just two more lines and I promise, I'll be done.

He walked over to you and placed a kiss on your forehead quickly before turning back around again.

You always loved Wilbur's determination, but he sometimes could overwork himself to the point of exhaustion. Noticing the growing bags under his eyes and the grogginess increasing in his voice every day, you knew he was over-working himself. Non-stop for the past five days. The new Lovejoy ep was causing him so much stress, he put too much pressure on himself, which worried you immensely. He would go to the studio early in the morning, get home late, fall into bed next to you, get up the next day, and do it all over again. He was tiring himself out more than usual and it wasn't good for him.

You scrolled through your phone absentmindedly in the same spot, fighting off sleep. In your peripheral vision, Wilbur stood in front of you startling your occupied brain. He moved when you noticed him and he laid his head down in your lap, his long legs dangled over the arm of the couch before you could say anything.

Wilbur buried his face in your tummy as his hand snaked around your waist so he could cuddle into you further. It was an odd position he was in, but he seemed cozy.

"you tired?" you tilted your head, running your hands through his messy brown locks. Wilbur hummed at your touch and nodded in response.

"I'm sorry, I should have listened to you," he mumbles into your shirt.

Sometimes you hated his stubbornness, but you loved him so that made up for it.

Not even a minute passed and Wilbur was already softly snoring in your lap like a tired cat. You giggled at your boyfriend and admire his calm features, running the pad of your pinky down the bridge of his adorable nose and watching as he twitched at the contact. A faint smile spread on his lips. He looked too peaceful, so for now, you'd let him sleep. You were happy he was finally getting some well-deserved rest anyways.

"Rest easy, my love."

End

-

taglist: @justanormalfangirlx2 @merakiwi

#fanfiction #wilbur soot x reader #cc!wilbur soot #cc!wilbur soot x reader #musicianbur #musicianbur x reader #wilbur soot x fem!reader #mcyt #mcyt fanfiction

[whumpofalltime]

friends, enemies, lurkers, we've made it to the

Whump Of All Time Finals!

What's the whumpiest whump of all time? Help us decide!

Find links and propaganda under the cut. Quarterfinalist and later match-ups are untagged, so your votes and reblogs matter! Make sure you click through to the main blog to find the run-off poll to crown third place, as well!

ROTK:

(spider attack, rescue)

"The Lord of The Rings, when Frodo gets bitten by a giant spider and left for dead by Sam at the end of The Two Towers, and then when Sam finds him in The Return of the King being held prisoner and whipped by an orc."

The Young Blood Chronicles (Save Rock and Roll's music videos, Fall Out Boy):

(link)

"Everyone gets bloodied, bruised, beaten up, tortured, rescued, limbs are amputated - it's brutal. Alone Together is particularly strong."

sorry for being late, but you want YBC propaganda? then you're getting YBC propaganda. I know you're a FOB fan, but I will be writing this for the benefit of those who don't know what YBC is, for better propaganda purposes! and yeah this is gonna be LONG. sorry.

So! The Youngblood Chronicles (shortened to YBC) is a series of 11 music videos made by the band Fall Out Boy, for their album Save Rock And Roll (you know this album, it's the one with My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark on it). The whole thing is quite short, less than fifty minutes long (even shorter if you don't count the uncut version's credits!!), and every single music video has some element of whump in it. This propaganda is gonna break down each individual music vid, and at i'll also talk a little bit about the irl context the album was written in, and why even THAT can be a little bit whumpy if you're insane like me!

(note: i'm going in the original release order over the uncut order, hence why i'm starting with MSKWYDITD instead of The Phoenix)

My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark: Arguably the least whump-y out of all of them, but man, seeing all of Fall Out Boy's discography and memorabilia be burnt while people are dancing around the destruction? Man, when you know the real life stuff (the reception the band had in 2009, leading to them to take a three year hiatus)... and at the end, you see four guys bound in the back of a van!! And that van is getting burnt!! Burn everything you love and burn the... ashes.

The Phoenix: NOW here's the first of MANY whump tastes you'll get. Patrick Stump, the singer/cutie of the band, gets kidnapped, tied to a chair, has his hand CHOPPED OFF and mailed to his bandmate/best friend Pete Wentz, then gets tied down and utterly tortured by women who are laughing at his misery the entire time, getting prodded and stabbed by tools for... well, you'll see. By the end of the video, Pete and the other two members of FOB (Joe Trohman and Andy Hurley) have been kidnapped by these mysterious women too, with Pete specifically getting kidnapped by the blonde woman he was in bed with when Patrick's hand got delivered to him. If you enjoy cute boys getting tied down, covered in blood, and writhing around like worms while getting tortured... well you'll enjoy all of YBC but specifically you'll enjoy this!! I did :D! The war is won, before it's begun, release the doves, surrender love...

Young Volcanoes: Good news, FOB has been reunited! Bad news, by the women who dismembered Patrick! And now all the band members are tied to chairs, hooked up to IVs full of god knows what types of drugs, and blindfolded (all except Patrick). They are then forced to drink, snort hard drugs, and are force fed Patrick's organs! Yep, all four of them are forced to eat their lead singer's guts, and are so fucking drugged up they don't even realize what's happening (and now you know what the women were doing to him in the last mv, and you even get a nice little shot of the hack job of stitching him back up)!! Patrick hallucinates everyone having fun, but of course, at the end, all of them are knocked out because of the drugs. Americana, exotica, do you wanna feel a little beautiful baby?

Alone Together: This is the song the OG propaganda mentioned, and for good reason. All four of them are shipped off into little personalized torture rooms, and, well, tortured! Pete is able to break out and even steals the hook from the girl who was torturing him, but little does he know that'll be his own undoing... also, in general, this song has some whumpy elements, specifically the line "my heart is like a stallion/they love it more when it's broke-in"... but notice how easy it is to hear "broke-in" as "broken"! At the end of the video, Pete is at least able to find Patrick (Joe and Andy have NOT been having a good time, either!! But sadly, they aren't found by Pete, but Pete DOES find Big Sean), and is even able to attach the hook to the stump (ha!) where his hand used to be. But something is clearly wrong with Patrick now. His eyes are yellow, and as the song ends, we hold on him, sneering and twitching. This is the road to ruin - and we're started at the end...

The Mighty Fall: First off if you say this is the worst song off of SRAR I will hunt you for sport. OKAY ANYWAYS, chronologically this comes after MSKWYDITD, and yeah, the four guys are the members of FOB. Pete is able to free himself with Patrick's new hook hand, and is able to get the other three out while Pete is hacking up a lung from the fire they just barely escaped. But they're not done getting their shit rocked yet. A gang of children show up (the leader being the kid Patrick waved at right before he was kidnapped back in the Phoenix MV), and proceed to separate them and beat the living shit out of them. The leader kid who's chasing Patrick plays something on a boombox... which triggers Patrick to go yellow-eyed again (from here on out i'll call it "going Youngblood" or "Youngblood self"). It was confirmed in the commentary track that ANY music would cause him to go Youngblood. And knowing Patrick IRL fucking loves to create/compose music... yeah! Take something he loves and turn it into something that drives him insane!! I'm normal!! And also the irl parallel you could draw to his solo career doing the same thing to him (on a less uh Dramatic level but you know)!!! Ouch!!!! Big Sean is able to save Patrick, but at the cost of his own life (and a killer rap verse... HELL YEAH I'M A DICK GIRL, ADDICTED TO YOU). Oh, how the mighty fall in love...

Just One Yesterday: The last vestiges of comfort you're gonna get for a WHILE. The four are separated, getting even more beaten up, Pete vomits up a snake, Andy gets his shit rocked by a homeless guy, Joe has to use white sheets as a makeshift tourniquet bc his leg got fucked up in The Mighty Fall MV, and Patrick is picked up by a kind stranger (hi Foxes! you have a very pretty voice! PLEASE KEEP YOUR HANDS ON THE STEERING WHEEL!). And finally, finally we get a hope spot. Fall Out Boy is reunited (the part where Andy just grabs onto Patrick's arm, in disbelief they're both alive... augh!!! AUGH!!!!), and for a moment, it seems they've been delivered to a hospital... before Foxes' eyes go completely black, looking at Patrick... and turns on the radio. She's able to trigger the Youngblood. And now Patrick is gone. The other three scramble into the hospital, Patrick not far behind, determined to kill them to stop the noise in his head. If Heaven's grief brings Hell's reign, then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday...

Where Did The Party Go: Patrick, now fully consumed by the Youngblood brainwashing, is now stalking his bandmates in a hospital. Patrick is seeing visions of the hospital as an abandoned party, Andy has to painfully disinfect the wounds he's gotten, Pete is able to call for the police, and Joe... oh, poor Joe. He barricades himself into a room, but not well enough. Patrick finds him, and kills him, slitting his throat with the hook hand, showing no remorse at all... until Andy and Pete find them. The Youngblood wears off, and Patrick looks to what he's done, and is horrified at what he's done to his friend. And, bad news for him, the police are here, ready to arrest the murderer. All Andy and Pete can do is watch as tears roll down Patrick's eyes. And for the extra IRL context, this was the first song written for the album that made Pete and Patrick realize they had to get FOB back together... so lets match that with a music video where the member who helped get the band together in the first place dies. By the hands of the kid he found. Let's fade away together, one dream at a time...

Death Valley: Joe gets... uh, a little comfort? I mean, he thinks he's getting sent to heaven but goes to hell, buuuuut I think doing drugs in rock and roll hell with Tommy Lee is actually a pretty sweet deal, better than the deal the other three got! Pete and Andy are being interrogated while Patrick is in a jail cell. We find out that the cult that kidnapped them, Silence the Noise, is lead by Pete's girlfriend from WAAAAY back in the Phoenix MV, Courtney Love. And at the end of the MV... Patrick is bailed out of jail by Silence the Noise. They have him again. And this time, they're not gonna let him walk out until he's fully under their control. 'Cause tonight it's just fire alarms and losing you...

Rat a Tat: Silence the Noise has Patrick, and they utterly brainwash him, A Clockwork Orange style, with electroshock stimulation to keep him from looking away or closing his eyes, until there is nothing left. Patrick Stump does not exist anymore. Only the Youngblood, pliant under the control of Silence the Noise, tasked to destroy what he once loved; music. Andy dies at the hands of the cult, and now Pete has to protect a briefcase, the thing that got them into this mess, and keep it away from Silence the Noise, all while his best friend hunts him down. Are you ready for another bad poem?

Miss Missing You: THE WHUMPIEST OF THE WHUMP. What if we were best friends but you've been driven insane and I know the only way to stop you is to kill you and it was my fault you got into this mess and I was the one who gave you the weapon that will be my own undoing. What if we both died at the same time. What if we died, both of us failing the mission we had before us. What if that was a reference to one of their first music videos. What if this song was originally written for Patrick's solo album but he realized it was more of a Fall Out Boy song so it was scrapped until now. What if there's a legit argument to be made that half the lyrics for this song was written by Patrick. What if we were both boys. Grips walls, yeha i'm normal. If you don't watch ANY other music vid, watch Miss Missing You. Sometimes before it gets better, the darkness gets bigger. The person that you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger.

Save Rock And Roll: And our final track gives us a final bit of comfort. Patrick is able to overcome the Youngblood, and gets into heaven, where all of FOB is finally, finally reunited. God (aka Elton John) gives them new instruments and brings them back to earth, so they can do what they love; play music together. Which just so happens to release people from the control of Silence the Noise! But, because we can't have nice things, a cult within Silence the Noise got a hold of the briefcase, and summoned a spirit that starts to kill everyone. FOB stands together, and blasts the evil spirit, the blood coming up to the gates of heaven and covering Elton John in it. And... that's how it ends. No true resolution. Just Elton John covered in blood, as the song fades out. Oh, no! Wherever I go, go! Trouble seems to follow! I only plugged in to save rock and roll!

UH. AGAIN I APOLOGIZE FOR THE LENGTH. but i really wanted to express just how much WHUMP they manage to fit into less than fifty minutes, all backed by an amazing album colored by the three years they were apart. colored by how they grew, colored by how bad the hiatus was for Patrick specifically, colored by how Confessions of a Pariah got Pete to reach out to help him, and this album came out of it, Fall Out Boy came back out of it, and now here we are, ten years later, with the title track being performed every night for their concert, with all the band singing the final lines together, and the line you are what you love, not who loves you hitting every single night.

SORRY. LISTEN TO FALL OUT BOY. thanks for letting me rant.

#final round #tournament poll