#never had a man treat my kindly check

[drak3n]

PARAMEDIC!SUGURU

CONTENT WARNINGS: fluff, smut, strangers to lovers trope, reader passes out, ambulances, sutures, blood, soft!suguru

sena’s note: i’m so down bad for jjk men i don’t have any words… i’m tweaking rn just thinking about suguru in paramedic gear—

MINI-SERIES MASTERLIST

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who was just about to call it a night with his coworker and drive back to the fire station to be relieved by the night shift, but held back a groan when a call came in

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who was told that a lady in her twenties had passed out and hit her head while at work, and who forgot all about after hours as his colleague drove towards the workplace at full speed with blasting sirens

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who rushed inside the building of the given address — a restaurant — with his colleague, paramedic backpack draped over his shoulder to be fetched by the shift supervisor who had made the call

“i don’t know how it happened... she was prepping in the back along with another worker and i suddenly heard clattering. when i checked, she was passed out and bleeding all over the floor.”

suguru’s amber eyes narrowed at the way the man explained the situation, and he left it to his colleague to register the workplace’s and your data while he entered the back to see you seated on a chair, weakly holding a cloth against your profusely bleeding forehead.

“ma’am, i’m here to help. may i check?” his voice was mellow and smooth, and you lowered your shaking arm to let his gloved hand check beneath the cloth. you were barely able to sit, yet, you looked at your coworker with exhausted eyes. “i’m okay... why did you call the ambulance…? he’s probably mad now.”

“you’ll need stitches for that wound,” he informed you, which made you sigh shakily as you gazed up at the tall man. all you saw was a blurred, tall silhouette wearing a vibrant, red uniform that stung your eyes, and a bun of dark, long hair. “my colleague will be here with a stretcher. could you look at me for a quick second?”

long, gloved fingers gently lifted your chin to check your pupillary response with an ophthalmoscope, discovering that your pupils were unusually dilated. high chance of a concussion. when you heard a stretcher rolling inside the room, you let out a confused hum.

“i—i can walk,” you slurred, accompanied by the supervisor also annoyingly confirming that there was no need for the stretcher. suguru quirked a brow at your supervisor, beckoning his colleague closer with the stretcher.

“there absolutely is a need for that,” he countered, “now kindly back away, sir.” his tone was warning, and the older man hesitantly stepped away while the two paramedics lifted you off the chair carefully to lay you down on the stretcher, securing you as you gazed up with blank, confused eyes.

geto stayed in the back with you during the drive to the hospital, and he made sure to check your vitals and ask you questions to make out the severity of your concussion and to see how well you responded.

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who found it endearing that you insisted for him to hold your hand throughout the ride because you had never been in an ambulance and it was scary and cold

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU whose eyes didn’t leave your form until you were brought into a treatment room, barely able to let go of your hand

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who only noticed at the fire station after clearing out the ambulance that there was a silver necklace with your initial in a corner, a necklace he was sure he had seen on you before you were transferred into the ambulance

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who despite having just gotten off an excruciating 12-hour shift and wanting to have nothing more to do with hospitals for the day, found himself heading back towards the hospital you’d been delivered to

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who saw you sitting in the hallway, waiting for your CT scans with a bandage around your treated head, and who approached you in civilian attire

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who returned the necklace to you and helped you put it on, waiting for your results with you while you were still quizzed as to why he was with you, still clearly confused

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who drove you home because you had no one to pick you up, and who accompanied you all the way to your door; who didn’t leave without taking your number to check on you

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who really did check in with you very frequently until you were feeling better again, and who was positively surprised to see you at the same hospital again a week later to get your stitches removed

“does this scar make me look goofy? be honest.”

suguru took your hand to stop you from touching the scarred and still sensitive tissue, giving you a soft smile. “no, it just puts a little badass in your adorable self,” he chuckled. your eyes went wide as you looked away bashfully.

“are you off work now?” suguru tilted his head down to look at you, you wouldn’t meet his eyes. cute. “i am. just need to head back to the station and get changed. why?”

“i’m really hungry. you wanna grab food?”

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who never failed to kiss the scar on your forehead, grazing his fingertips against the imperfectly perfect feature on your face, and who got heart eyes whenever you shyly showed him how much you love him

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who always subconsciously shielded your head from possible danger; who covered your head with his hand while opening cupboards close to you, or who always covered the edge of a table with his palm when you bent over to pick something up; and who despite being so caring, couldn’t help but poke a little fun at you

“you okay like this, angel?” a shuddered whimper left your lips as you got settled on top of your tall, handsome boyfriend who was laid on his back. plush thighs straddling his sides, you relished in the feeling of him inside of you.

he didn’t move an inch. all he did was stare into your eyes and cradle your face in his warm hands. all you wanted was to show suguru that you were a big girl, that you could take it, that you were—

“i—it’s—,” you moaned into his hand, your own clammy palms shooting forward to clutch at his toned stomach, “y—you’re so mean, sugu! you promised not to move!” his long strands of jet black hair bounced when he chuckled heartily. he couldn’t help it.

“i can’t help it when i’m inside the prettiest girl in the world,” he mumbled against your lips, capturing your lips in a greedy kiss that swallowed your moans. “want me to take over? all you have to do is ask.”

your begging eyes were enough for him to flip you over.

tagged: @melancholia-k @tansyfleurwhisper

#jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru smut #geto x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #geto smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x y/n #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x reader fluff #jjk geto #jjk geto x reader #jjk suguru #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk

[exhaslo]

Hii... Sorry to bother you.. Could you do bully Miguel x shy reader like Miguel always bully and tease reader, but reader also got bullied in the past by eddie who worse like cigarette burn something like that , but miguel kinda likes reader and have a soft spot for her , let me know what's on your mind , have a nice day ☺ (sorry my English is bad)

Sure! I highly recommend to check out my Puzzle Pieces story whenever you get a chance! This request is pretty similar to how I made that story, but I'll change this up a bit for your request~

Warning: Mentions of abuse, bullying, loneliness, fluff, handsy, touch starved

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

A cold droplet landed so perfectly against your hand as you sat alone on an abandon swing.

The cool wind that blew roughly against your face as you stared at the broken mats below you.

A heart breaking silence that could only remind you that you were alone in this place.

This place, and everywhere.

It had been a long time since you had a moment to enjoy yourself. Lately you've been in a downward slump. Nothing seemed to go right for you or get your spirits up. You just wanted a friend. Someone to help you get out of this lonely slump.

"This isn't a field trip," Miguel spoke as he approached you from behind.

"Isn't as fun as one," You muttered lowly, jumping off the swing.

"Let's get back to what we're supposed to be doing."

You just nodded as you followed Miguel. The reason you were in the middle of an abandon park was actually work related. Miguel was your coworker. Your tall, handsome, bossy and bully of a coworker. He added to your stress by workload and teasing.

"Hey, pay attention." Miguel huffed as he flicked your forehead. You whimpered quietly,

"S-Sorry," You apologized. Miguel sighed once more,

"Do you even remember what we're supposed to be doing here?"

"I-I...I do!" You cried, gripping your bag as you hurried to the grassy field, "I....do...just please....leave me alone for a moment," You whispered as tears threaten to spill.

---------

Miguel watched you hurry off, resisting a chuckle. Lord, you were so adorable and easy to tease. Miguel loved it when your face would turn red from embarrassment. He wanted to see more of you. If only you would come out of your shell.

Miguel loved hearing your voice. Your little squeaks and whines. You were the best coworker he could have ever had. You were made just for him. Miguel just had a hard time showing his affection and it ended up coming out as bullying.

"I'll be over at this section, (Y/N). Let me know when you're done!" Miguel called out.

This was a simple field gathering that Miguel needed done. He wanted to collect some samples of the wild life bugs outside the city so he could return to the lab. While Miguel was the top scientist at Alchemax, you were just one of his measly assistants.

A cute one at that.

Miguel chuckled to himself as he thought of you being grossed out by the bugs. Despite your shyness, Miguel knew that you could never say no to him. Another reason why he was so obsessed with you. Miguel just wished he knew how to get you to loosen up around him some more.

--------

After a while of gathering, you felt exhausted. Miguel had approached you a few times, checking up on you and offering water. It did warm your heart, but the man confused you so much. He always teased you, yet would turn around and treat you so kindly. Miguel was not the average bully.

At least you weren't sure. He did do strange things.

Once the two of you were done, you made you way back to Alchemax. Miguel offered the scenic route, stating that they could use the extra time for themselves.

"So hot. How could you wear long sleeves even in this heat?" Miguel asked with a huff as he fixed his bag. You gripped your sleeves,

"I....rather not say," You whispered.

Miguel noticed your grim expression and cussed mentally. He struck a nerve. Glancing around, Miguel smiled as he saw an ice cream shop ahead and grabbed your wrist, dragging you behind.

"M-Miguel!"

You cheeks grew flustered as Miguel dragged you away. You didn't know where he was taking you until you entered the shop. Confused, you enjoyed the cool breeze of the AC as you stood behind Miguel. It were these moments that confused you.

"What flavor do you want?" Miguel asked. You tilted your head, looking at the flavors,

"Oh," You pointed towards your favorite flavor, "Um...T-Thank you, Miguel."

You smiled softly as Miguel grunted in response. Now that sounded more like the Miguel you knew. As you held your ice cream, Miguel suggested to sit at the shop for a bit before returning. You didn't think too much of it, but this was making up for his behavior from earlier.

"You know...I can recommend a place that makes cooling long sleeve shirts." Miguel muttered. You almost didn't hear him, "If...you don't mind the suggestion, that is."

"I would love that. Thank you-"

"Whoa, is that (Y/N)?"

You felt your heart sink as you heard a familiar voice. Your breathing shuddered as you looked away.

"It is! Holy shit! Long time no see!!"

Miguel felt his eye twitch as he heard an obnoxious voice call out your name so casually and snobby. Glancing down towards you, Miguel furrowed his brows. You were shaking like a leaf and the blood had drained from your face.

"What? Too good to even say hi, (Y/N)?" The man snorted, getting closer. Miguel's lazily glare turned towards the man,

"And if she is?" He scoffed, towering over the man as Miguel stood, "Who do you think you are?"

"Name's Eddie, her ex."

"L-Let's...g-go." You whispered quietly.

Miguel felt your lightest tug against his shirt. You were scared. Now, while Miguel did enjoy bullying and teasing you for affection, it was clear that Eddie had bullied you for fun. That struck a nerve with Miguel.

"Well, Eddie, (Y/N) obviously doesn't want to talk to you. So fuck off," Miguel hissed, wrapping his arm around your waist.

Your eyes widen towards the warm of Miguel's touch as he pulled you out of the store. This level of comfort felt so right. So nice. This was what you felt like you were missing. Just a small touch. You had dropped your ice cream, but who cares.

This felt nice.

Once you were a good distance away, Miguel had you face him. Tears stained your cheeks as you quickly pulled Miguel into a deep hug. You really didn't want to let go of him. Not just yet. You felt so touch starved that you just needed this.

"You're okay," Miguel hummed.

This felt really nice. Having your arms wrapped around him. Miguel would love for this to be a constant thing. Resting his hand against your head, Miguel waited until you were ready. This was a side that he hadn't seen before...a side that he wasn't sure he wanted to see.

"(Y/N)...Sorry if I ever, get on your nerves." Miguel apologized, feeling as if it were the right thing to do.

You sniffled, looking up at him, "Y-You're not...as bad as he was." You whimpered. Miguel enjoyed the little squeeze you gave him, "T-Thank you...f-for standing up for me."

"Of course," Miguel wiped your tears away, frowning as you let go, "I tease you a lot because I like you. Now, I know that isn't an excuse, but I'm here if you need to talk."

"T-Thank you," You smiled and rubbed your arm slightly, "Um, C-Can I add...a stress hug to that offer?"

"Suuure?" Miguel was confused, but accepted none the less.

---------

Oh, how Miguel loved these stress hugs. Ever since that day, you would just pop into his lab when no one was around and hug Miguel tightly. Those hugs would last anywhere between a few seconds to a few minutes. It was hard for him not to go back to teasing you.

"Mig?" You whispered, poking your head into his lab.

There you were once again. Miguel motioned you in and hid his smile as you quickly rushed to hug him. Your arms wrapping around his waist as you gave him a squeeze. Miguel returned the gesture, always wondering how far you would let him touch you.

"Your 'stress hugs' have been getting lighter. Sure this isn't a reason to embrace me?" Miguel said with a low chuckle.

"N-No!" You huffed.

Ah, the cute pout you did. Miguel smirked as his hands roamed your back, feeling your body shake and move with his touch. You were enjoying this just as much as he was. Who know how touch starved Miguel was until you started this.

"Excuse me, Miguel?"

Not wanting to get caught, Miguel quickly pinned you under his desk. He covered your mouth, signaling you to be quiet until the lab worker left.

"Hm? He must have left."

Miguel resisted a sigh of relief as he stared at you. Your body pressed against his as the two of you hid under a small space. Your legs were practically around his hips while your hands were resting against his arms.

"..."

Miguel felt like he was at a loss for words. Everything about this felt so right. Your body just melted against his. His perfect dream come true. Slowly moving his hand away from your mouth, Miguel waited for you to say something. Anything!

"M-Mig," You finally spoke, cheeks burning red. Miguel stroked your cheek, watching you lean against his palm,

"Think these....stress hugs can get a little more-"

"Touchy?"

You took the words right out of his mouth. Pulling you onto his lap as you both still hid under the desk, Miguel resisted a groan. How could he tease you to being his girlfriend? How could he bully you to be his? Miguel needed to know!

"I-Is it weird...t-that this is...calming?" You asked shyly, resting your head against his neck as you touched his chest. Miguel was biting the inside of his cheek,

"Yea, guess that means you're a pervert, (Y/N)." He chuckled. You frowned, glaring at him,

"S-So are you!"

Miguel grunted as he grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him as he inhaled your perfume. His eyes nearly rolling back as you trembled against his touch. Your soft hands playing with his hair was making him go crazy.

"I'll happily take that insult from you."

A small smile formed against your lips as you and Miguel stayed like for a few seconds longer. You had to get back to work, but at least you knew that the two of you could keep seeing each other like this. It felt good. It made you feel better.

No longer did you feel lonely as Miguel held you in his warm embrace.

No longer did you know that you were the only one who needed this escape.

You had Miguel to be handsy with.

You had Miguel to share your comfort. Even if he was a bully to you sometimes. Miguel would always make it up by calming you down with his touches.

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

Hope you enjoyed!!!!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel x y/n

[deathshallbethelastenemy]

where you go, i go (2)

TEEN!gojo x FEM!reader (soulmate AU)

TW⚠️: angst, toji being toji, reader thinks about killing someone, gojo is in his tweaked out enlightenment era soooooo gojo a little creepy and eerie

Part 2 of what you see, i see

She had been going through the motions for the rest of the day, she hadn't even bothered to stop by her school clubs, until she arrived home. A sickly sweet scent of pastries attacked her senses the second she entered. Her house doubled as a bakery for the first floor. It was a popular hang out place for people her age especially for couples. There was a parade of them this time - cheerful couples were already sharing their coffees and sugary pastries.

The universe was laughing at her. It had to be. Why else would there be so many happy couples in the store right now? It was pointing and laughing hysterically on the ground saying: "That's what you get for ignoring me! That's what you get for resenting my gift to you!" Because that's what a soulmate was, a gift. A rare and wonderful gift that no one believed in, except for those who have experienced it themselves, and she had lost it; lost him.

She almost cried on the spot.

Her mother waved gleefully from behind the register, her daughter seldom returned it as she went up the stairs. She dropped her school bag in her room besides her desk and, face first, flopped on her bed.

She closed her eyes. Nothing, there was nothing.

Her lip quivered as tears began to sting her eyes, but she couldn't cry. Not when her mother was expecting her to change and put on an apron and help as she always did after school. She could silently mourn him tonight.

She let out a shaky breath. Did she even have the right to mourn him? She had never met him or talked to him. Everytime she thought of him recently was only to insult him or dismiss him entirely. No, she did not have the right to mourn him and she deserved to feel empty on the inside.

She put on a clean apron and slugged her way down stairs with a smile as she took over her mother's place at the register. Her mom kissed the top of her head and beamed at her with a thumbs up.

She never understood why so many people hated working retail, but now, she did. She had to force a smile and treat every customer kindly, all the while, she was dying on the inside.

A man had come in. Tall and insanely buff, a scar on his mouth. He ordered the cheapest pastry on the menu and handed her a wadded up yen. Her blood turned cold when their fingers brushed.

Her mother quickly took the money away from her as she gave her a quick command to check on the oven in the back.

She swallowed and listened to her mom. Her steps were quick as she pushed the double doors that led to the kitchen, she hugged herself.

It was him. It had to be him. That was the man who killed Gojo Satoru. She reached for a knife and gripped it tight. She should kill him. Her soulmate was dead and he was the reason why. She should try and avenge him.

Sheshouldsheshouldsheshouldsheshould-

The oven blared next to her. Her head snapped to it as the knife clattered on the ground, and with shaky mitted hands she opened the oven, and took out the fresh pastries.

Those were dangerous thoughts; thoughts she never thought she would ever have against anyone. She took off the oven mitts and looked outside the circle window of the kitchen - he was leaving and her mother was watching him like a hawk, even when the bell rang sharply with a muffin in his mouth as he walked outside with the rest of the crowd. She didn't know what possessed her to run after him, but she did. Maybe, all she wanted to know was why he had killed Gojo Satoru. Maybe, she wanted this man to kill her too, so she wouldn't feel empty inside anymore.

A blur of a conversation as the words tumbled out of her mouth: "Why? Why did you kill Satoru?"

She didn't register anything other than his gruff voice, "Ah, he had a soulmate. If I were you I'd keep that information to yourself from now on." Uninterestedly, he continued, "You wouldn't want the Gojo clan to know about you. No doubt, they'll try to marry you off to another member of the clan." and then, kept walking.

She didn't hear the interest in his voice when he said to himself, "But she would be worth a lot of money if I did take her to them." He would negotiate a price first to see if he was right about her being worth any money. He would worry about that later, right now, he had a star plasma vessel to turn in.

A sharp tug on her arm is all that stopped her from running after him again.

"______! What were you thinking?" her mother gritted out as she led her back into the bakery. Her mother's voice is strict and unwavering, "Go to your room."

And she did.

She tossed the apron on her desk and kicked her school bag. How was she supposed to live like this with the rest of her entire life half-full?

A sob violently escaped her.

This was how everyone else in the world lived, she realized.

Aching and alone.

Desperate and searching.

Wanted and unwanted.

Now, she was just like everyone else like she had always wanted. She supposed, she couldn't complain.

She laid in bed, wrapped herself in a blanket - trying to keep warm, but she doubted, she'd ever feel warm again as she cried herself to sleep.

She dreamt about Satoru. Flashes of a long chain, of red, of purple, of blood, of a crowd clapping, of someone wrapped in a white sheet, of a long dark hallway.

The universe was laughing at her again. Why else would it give her dreams about him?

An uneasiness settled into her bones. Someone was watching her. The grim reaper, no doubt wearing the face of her soulmate's assassin. If death wanted her, so be it.

She kept her eyes closed.

She saw herself sleeping soundly in death's gaze. She saw the time pass through her window changing from sundown to night as death continued to watch her intently.

Hours had passed.

00:57:39

She wondered at what specific time the grim reaper would take her.

1:13:01

Did it want her to open her eyes?

1:13:10

Probably.

1:13:15

The grim reaper has been patiently waiting for her.

1:13:17

Why keep death waiting then?

1:13:20

Her eyes fluttered open.

Beautiful, vibrant cerulean blue.

It was not death. It was -

"Satoru," she whispered.

"______," he whispered back.

Satoru was sitting down on the floor extremely close to her bed with his legs crossed while his hands rested neatly on his ankles. There was dry blood on his face and on his white dress shirt.

Her mouth moved but no sound came.

"You were crying," he said as he caressed her cheek soothing his thumb along the trail of stained lines that her dried tears had left, "alot."

So, he had seen everything.

She put her hand over his and gently rubbed circles.

Satoru scooted closer to her bed, "I didn't like seeing you cry," his hand trailed up to her scalp, "or frown," and gently ran his fingers through her hair.

He laid his head down on her bed and stared at her with those vibrant, sparkling eyes; eyes that could see everything she could never see.

She touched his cheek gently, "I didn't like not feeling you."

Her whole body shivered. Satoru was here, in front of her, and she was still cold.

"Are you still cold?"

She nodded.

Never letting go of her, he kicked off his shoes and climbed under the blanket with her. He wrapped his legs around hers as her arms wrapped under his uniform jacket.

With his hand still tangled in her hair, he said, "Better?"

His heartbeat had returned to her. They were beating in unison again.

"Better," she hummed. "You?" She asked.

His lips pressed softly on her forehead, "Much better." He tugged her in closer into his chest.

She smiled.

She was warm again.

@whatamidoing89 @mr-underhills-things

Part 1: what you see, i see

Part 3: you know i adore you

Part 4: i'm crazier for you

Part 5: baby, you're the life of the party

Part 6: something's made your eyes go cold

#toji stop trying to sell children for money challenge #is okay gojo kills him before he does anything #basically if you were wondering about the gojo clan comment then here is tldr: #seeing as reader is gojos soulmate they assume she can bear another six eyes and limitless curse technique user #or at least have a higher chance of there being another one born sooner rather than later unlike gojo being the first to be born in 400 yrs #so in the gojo clan she would be seen as valuable for that reason and would try to force her to marry someone closely related to satoru #thankfully that doesnt happen cause gojois alive and he busts out the micrsoft paint eraser on toji #if it did geto probably try and stop it from happening out of respect for his bff #gojo satoru #jjk #gojo satoru x reader #teen gojo #gojo x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #hope you enjoy #gojo has not changed from his bloody clothes #was supposed to give a creepy but a peaceful sort of vibe at the end #But hey!!! they finally meet #part 2 #maybe a part 3??? #idk #this is no proofread #reader is a bit of crybaby #leave her alone she is trying her best #tumblr ruined the quality of the gojo gif so sad #like his eyes are glowing white instead of blue #thats is not how it looks on my google photos

[irrelevantwriter]

Captive Heart

Pairing: Dark!Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW, 18+ only

Warnings: Dark!Eddie, language, mentions of kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, hint of somnophilia, consensual vaginal sex, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of bodily fluids

Word Count: 2831

Summary: Eddie wanted you. And he got you. 

A/N: Dark Eddie is here and he’s pretty dark. This really came out of left field for me, but it also felt right so enjoy! Share with your friends! Feedback is that good shit.💗

Disclaimer: As always, reader inserts are true reader inserts. If you find any specifics in regards to reader’s appearance, kindly let me know and I will fix that.

Disclaimer: Characters are of age in my fics.

*Check out my other Eddie fics here

*Masterlist in bio.

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

Eddie groaned as he lifted his aching body into his van, his grease stained hands calloused from the day’s work.

He eagerly fished out a cigarette from his pocket and immediately lit the stick, not even stopping to start the engine. The cab was thick with the July sun, causing his overgrown bangs to cling to his sweaty skin. He ignored the suffocating heat and rolled down his window, sucking in a much needed breath of nicotine.

His body began to relax once the bitter taste of tobacco hit his tongue. Only then was he able to turn the car on.

Music assaulted him and he rushed to turn it down, the pain behind his skull intensifying. Cool air blasted from the vents as he threw the van into drive. He drove on autopilot, eager to leave the clusterfuck of a day he’d had behind.

The garage had been busy and customers were anything but kind to him. Which wasn’t unusual for a guy like Eddie Munson. The population of Hawkins had never been particularly welcoming. It surely hadn’t changed now that he’d finally graduated and held down a decent job.

That was too much to ask apparently.

The further he drove from downtown, the lighter he felt. The sensation was a reminder as to why he’d taken up residence in a nearly abandoned house on the outskirts of town. He’d let Wayne have his trailer back a few years back, wanting to give the old man his freedom after tying himself to the town freak. Wayne deserved that much.

Eddie thought of what waited for him at home. Who waited for him at home and an ache of a different kind began to settle into his bones as he thought of you.

Pretty. Smart. Kind.

All adjectives he felt were too good for him. But you’d been his from the moment he’d first spotted you in town. And unlike the majority of Hawkins, you’d treated him with respect. Like an equal. He’d fallen in love instantly. A rarity for a pessimist like himself.

He stopped at a familiar intersection, waiting for the light to turn. His eyes caught sight of the newest billboard posted. It changed every few months. The same face always smiling back. Usually the reward amount was higher, a family desperate to have their missing piece returned to them.

A honk sounded from behind him and he realized the light had turned green. He waved in apology and stepped on the gas, leaving the plea for help behind.

His fingers drummed against the steering wheel as he turned on his isolated street. There were only three homes that dotted the road, all separated by thick trees and bushes. Most of the yards were overgrown. He’d never met his neighbors and he preferred it that way. He liked his privacy. And so did they.

His heart sped up and his stomach filled with anticipation, excited to set eyes on you after a long day away. He parked his van under the car park, noticing the wicker basket that sat next to the side door leading into the kitchen. A pair of gardening gloves peppered with dirt lay abandoned at the bottom.

Eddie had mixed feelings about the sight. He turned off his van, finding it odd that you hadn’t come out to greet him. That was your normal routine.

He exited the vehicle and made his way up the concrete steps, doing his best to kick off any lingering grease and mud from his boots. He used his key to unlock the door, a refreshing blast of A/C hitting him in the face. He sighed at the feel of it on his overheated body. The van’s air conditioning was dwindling with every summer that came and went.

Silence permeated the air as he took in the kitchen. He noted the smell first. A mouthwatering scent that practically made him groan. He walked over to the stove, a large pot of pot roast sat beneath a clear lid, condensation collecting near the rim. He noted the oven was off, but the pot was still warm, signaling it’d just been shut off.

He left the food and set out to find you, his body tense and on edge. All he could think about since he’d left you that morning was being back inside you. That was his favorite place to be. And that was the only cure for the shitty hand he’d been dealt that day.

He made his way to the bedroom in the back. His bedroom. The door was ajar, the foot of the bed coming into view as he stepped closer. He reached out and pushed the door open, taking in your sleeping form. His cock hardened at the sight.

You were nude, lying on your stomach with your leg hitched up, face buried into his pillow. The position afforded him the kind of view he’d longed for all day.

He moved quietly as he approached your sleeping form, his fingers itching to reach out and touch you. He gave in to his desires and skimmed your ankle with his fingertips, watching you closely. You didn’t stir.

You slept soundly. And lately, you’d gotten increasingly hot natured. You hardly slept with clothing on anymore. Not that he minded.

He would normally shower once he got home from work, but the overwhelming urge he had to take you was too strong. You were laid out so perfectly for him, beckoning him to come closer. So he listened.

Eddie undressed and crawled onto the foot of the bed, letting his hands roam up the expanse of your thighs. He licked his lips as his thumbs spread your opening, your body winking to him in welcome. Without preamble, he dipped a finger inside. Warm heat coated him. He was desperate for more.

You shifted against his touch, hips inching towards the pleasure. He watched as your walls took him in easily. So he added another finger. He moved them deeper, almost betting he could feel the many loads he’d left in you that morning before he’d left for work.

He watched your face for any signs of consciousness, but there were none. He didn’t like that.

He removed his fingers and moved his mouth closer to your sex, hovering. A large glob of saliva fell from his lips to your skin and he sought out your clit, done with being considerate. He needed you.

He was aggressive with his actions, using his fingers to rub intentionally. A soft gasp was his reward. He smiled as your body jerked, your legs fighting to close around his hand as your eyes flew open. He held your thighs, keeping you in position as he shushed you.

“Shh…shhh,” he soothed, his fingers betraying his gentle tone. “It’s me, baby. It’s just me.”

You settled for only a moment before you whimpered and tried to push his hand away.

“M’still sore, Eddie,” you whispered, voice thick with sleep. The sound made his cock twitch.

He smiled down at you, not at all trying to hide the condemnation in his features. “Sore from what, baby?”

His fingers dipped back into your slit, the appendages flooded with your arousal. You bit your lip, the need to cry out written all over your face. Your brows furrowed and your nose scrunched in that cute way he loved. Your fists clung to bedding below you. It was an indication of just how close you were, despite your pleas.

“This morning,” you answered between moans, hips rocking into his hand now.

“You saying fucking you three times before I leave is too much?”

You didn’t reply. He hooked his fingers, making you arch off the bed.

“Answer me.”

“No. No, s’not,” you slurred, trying to reach for his forearm.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, his pace slowing, removing his fingers all together. You whimpered and he soothed the ache with a swipe of his palm over your puffy lips.

“Turn on your side.”

You wordlessly obeyed, twisting so that your upper body was now turned towards him, your lower half still flush with the mattress and open to his touch.

“Hold still for me, baby,” he instructed as he shifted on his knees. He held your thighs in place as he angled his throbbing cock to your opening, rutting against you and coating himself in your wetness.

“Mmm,” you hummed, already cock drunk at the feel of him.

“Need you, baby. Need you so bad.”

Eddie gritted his teeth as the tip of his cock slipped past your entrance, your walls squeezing in acceptance. It’d taken him weeks to get you trained to that point and now he was addicted to the sensation.

As soon as he felt your body clench around him, his self control disappeared. He acted on instinct and buried himself to the hilt, his hips meeting the flesh of your ass. A high pitched moan ricocheted in his ears as your body took him.

You always made the prettiest sounds. Even when you cried.

“Fuck, baby…feel so good,” he babbled, fingertips digging into your thighs. Flesh slapped against flesh as he moved, watching the way your tits bounced in response.

This was the feeling he’d been chasing all day. Shit, all his life if he was being completely honest. That was why he’d swooped in and took you for himself. He had to. He had to do it.

He’d planned it for weeks. How he’d lure you to him. Which wasn’t hard considering how sweet you were on him. He could tell. He thought it was cute.

You fought him at first. Of course you did. He’d taken you and held you captive in his home. But over time you grew comfortable with him. You understood he wasn’t trying to hurt you. He took care of you. Took care of your every want and need. And pretty soon you were coming to him. Seeking him out to make you feel better.

Eddie had done his research. He knew all about Stockholm Syndrome. And he put it to the test with you. Now, eight months later with his cock buried so deep inside of you he could practically see the outline in your stomach, he could call it a success. You were well and truly his.

“More, Eddie…please,” you begged, knowing better than to disobey him. He gave you what you wanted and let two fingers seek out your clit. He never let you touch yourself. A rule you were good at following. It’d only taken you two times to know you didn’t want to do it again.

“My good girl…so good for me. Always. Isn’t that right?”

You nodded, mouth agape as your body writhed on his cock. You were close. And so was he.

He sped up his movements, seeing your face twist in pain as he hit deep. He didn’t stop. He kept going.

“Cum for me, baby. I know you want to,” he demanded, using his free hand to swat at your ass. You recoiled, but the moan that left your lips betrayed you. So he did it again.

You came with a shuttering gasp, limbs twisted so tight he was sure they’d snap. He held still so that every shock of pleasure that washed over you traveled along his cock.

When your body went limp, he resumed his efforts. He sought out your chest, squeezing the flesh as he fucked you. Your eyes were glossed over and staring up at him, your lips curved into a drunken smile. When his hand traveled further up to clutch at your neck, you let him.

Eddie growled as he applied pressure. You arched into his touch, your pussy so utterly fucked out that he was nearly slipping from its clutches.

“Fuck. Just like that, baby,” he grimaced between clenched teeth, feeling that telltale sensation at the base of his spine. “You’re so good to me. Letting me use you. Right?”

He released your throat and you sucked in air, your hand wrapping around his tattooed wrist.

“Yes, yes…whenever you want.”

“You’re mine. Say it,” he growled, punctuating his words with a punishing thrust.

“I’m yours, Eddie.”

That was all he needed to finish.

He pumped you full, like he usually did, hips never stopping, even when the sensitivity kicked in. Your whiny moans and whimpers only spurred him on as he collapsed over you, bodies sweaty and sticking to each other. He kissed your cheek sloppily, still stuck in the throes of his climax.

Everything always felt so much better with you. Before you, sex never felt this good. Coming home never felt as good. You were all he needed. And he would fight until his dying breath to keep that hidden from you. Because the moment you realized that you were the one that held all the power, he knew you’d leave him. Just like everyone else.

“Fucking fuck…so good for me, baby…so good,” he panted into your neck, hands squeezing at every part of you he could reach.

Several seconds passed before either of you attempted to move. He settled his full weight onto you, cock still very much nestled between your legs. He could feel his cum trickling out, so he lazily thrust his hips in hopes of catching the runaway drops.

“Sensitive,” you sleepily murmured, hips edging away from him.

He ignored your comment, peppering your chest and neck with kisses.

“You know the rule about wasting,” he reminded you, nose burrowing into your cheek.

Your hands came to rest in his hair in silent apology, pushing the tangled waves away from his face. You met his eyes and all he saw was adoration.

“Let’s take a shower.”

He groaned in protest, nipping at your bottom lip, eliciting a giggle. “Don’t wanna move.”

“You’ll feel better. I’ll help. And then I can feed you.”

Eddie acquiesced, shifting off of you. He was hungry. And a shower did sound nice. Especially when his muscles ached in protest of his movements.

“Come on,” you purred, somehow finding the strength to pull his hand into yours, helping him off the bed.

He followed you wordlessly.

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

An hour later Eddie sat at the small dining table in the kitchen, eating the pot roast you’d made. His hair lay in damp streaks along his naked back and shoulders, the slight chill helping him stay cool. He watched you move around the space with ease, humming to yourself as you made yourself a plate.

He admired the way your ass shifted in the little sundress he’d gotten you last week. The fabric fell over your curves like it was made for you. And with the sun streaming in through the little window near the sink, you looked like an angel with a halo. His angel.

He regretfully pulled his eyes away and reached for the newspaper sitting beside him. While your back was turned, he thumbed through the pages, looking for what he knew would be there.

On page six he found it. He stared back at the picture of you, the words MISSING printed above the image. You were smiling, looking as beautiful as you did now standing in his home. He quickly snatched the page, tucking it into the pocket of his pants, moving quickly so as not to alert you.

You turned just as he folded what was left of the newspaper aside.

“Saw you went into the garden today,” he commented, taking note of the way you straightened in your chair.

“I thought that was allowed,” you whispered, the fear in your eyes giving you away.

Eddie reached for your hand, soothing your worries. “It is. It is, sweetheart. I just want you to be careful. Don’t want anyone to bother you,” he gently explained, seeing you visibly relax. No one ever came around his property, but it didn’t hurt to remind you.

“I know, Eddie. I’m always careful. I promise.”

And he believed you. Because you hadn’t left him yet.

He’d given you more and more freedom over the last few months, and you’d proven time and time again that he could trust you. He still took precautions when necessary. He didn’t have a television. He didn’t own a telephone. Everything you heard about the outside world was through him first. He made sure.

“I know you are, baby. You’re my good girl.” Eddie planted a kiss to the back of your hand, his heart thudding wildly when you smiled at him.

You nodded in confirmation, letting him playfully nibble at your fingertips.

“Now eat your food. The baby needs it,” he gently ordered, releasing your hand.

You did as he said.

He had five months. Five more months to save and get you and the baby out of Hawkins. Shit, he was going to get you out of the fucking state. Settle down on one of the coasts.

He’d done what he’d set out to do.

You were his.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things

[solomons-finest-rum]

“The Elephant in the Room” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — PART 5 (Final)

Read Part 1 Here

Read Part 2 Here

Read Part 3 Here

Read Part 4 Here

SUMMARY — What you thought would be a nice private space rented from a nice lady in a nice neighbourhood soon turned to be a living nightmare. Enter: the most eccentric little girl and her even more unconventional father who just so happens to be the criminal boss of Camden Town.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Hi friends! 💗💗💗💗💗 After an eternity of a writer's block, the series is finished! Thank you to all of you who encouraged me and commented and sent love, I truly appreciate you and the support for this story!

WORD COUNT — 1,804

Masterlist

Come December, you received some much needed respite from teaching, even though you tried not to think about it that way. Taking care of your pupils was after all your calling, though perhaps moonlighting as Alice’s tutor had finally taken its toll on your health. For some time now Mrs. Collins had stopped with her incessant bickering and started to treat you more kindly. That, you decided, was bad news in itself.

“Any plans for Christmas, luv?” she asked you one evening when she ambushed you in the kitchen with a pot of strong tea in one hand and a deck of well-worn cards in the other.

“Ambushed” was the correct term, too, as your actual plans involved checking the schoolwork and then polishing off that bottle of gin you had been harbouring upstairs for the better part of the year.

“I was thinking of visiting my family,” you lied smoothly and accepted the cup with a small smile.

Mrs. Collins raised an eyebrow, then wasted no time between pouring tea and interrogation:

“Really? You never talk about them, dove.”

“No, I suppose I don’t…”

She was expecting a follow-up, you clearly saw that, but living in that house and dealing with the likes of Alfie Solomons taught you more things you originally cared to admit.

For one, you stopped explaining yourself; at first purely because you knew how Alfie wanted to coax as much information from you as possible, at any given occasion. But then you actually grew more confident in your convictions.

As much as you hated the notion, however, what Alfie said or did started to occupy your thoughts more and more each day. You couldn’t quite help it. You and Alice grew closer during these past few months, and even though you and Alfie still bickered from time to time, the initial resentment turned into mutual understanding.

Not to mention, you now had a hard time pretending to yourself that the man was entirely unattractive.

“Well then,” Mrs. Collins smirked and took a sip of her tea. “Whatever you say, I reckon.”

You followed suit and coughed a little when you realised much of the tea constituted of rum.

“Mrs. Collins!”

“What now?”

You made a face and she ignored you and so you proceeded with the game of cards.

“I don’t suppose I’ll visit them this year, though,” you finally admitted, both to your landlady and to yourself.

“And why’s that?” she asked as she shuffled the cards again.

“They don’t really wish to see me.”

Something akin of anger glinted in the older woman’s eyes, which truly surprised you. Mrs. Collins was rarely angry at you these days.

“Then they’re a bunch of fools, I say!”

You frowned at the bluntness, though you supposed you shouldn’t have expected anything else from the woman. She was, if nothing else, painfully honest.

Mrs. Collins didn’t mind your outrage in the least. She lit a cigarette and concluded the thought with:

“If ever there was a girl I’d want to call my daughter, I suppose I couldn’t ask for anyone better than you.”

The sudden sentiment left you speechless. Having distracted you so, Mrs. Collins laid down her cards and cackled:

“Ha! I won!”

You should have known. In retrospect, you should have bloody known.

Friendship or not, some things on your street would never change. Alfie Solomons, this much you knew, would certainly never change.

On Christmas morning, you were woken up by the familiar racket coming from your charming neighbour’s house. Since the two didn’t celebrate Christmas, they apparently decided the entire street shouldn’t either.

You groaned and felt yourself already in a foul mood. You looked out the window, but firmly concluded that even the freshly fallen snow couldn’t do much to ease your anger. It was still dark out and the yellow fog coming from the gas lamps gave the streets an odd look.

“God damn you, Alfie Solomons,” you grumbled, already feeling you wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep.

Soon enough, the usual noise of your days off followed. You brushed your hair and practically counted to the second as your front door slammed and Alice ran upstairs to knock on your bedroom door.

“Are you awake?!” she asked unnecessarily and you groaned in frustration.

“No.”

“What do you mean?” she scoffed. “I can hear you!”

“Alice…”

“Miss, come downstairs!” she told you off as if she were the mistress and you the insufferable pupil. “’tis already Christmas!”

Thinking this behaviour rather odd, though in truth no odder than usual for the girl, you sat up and grabbed your robe.

“That bloody family, I swear to God,” you grumbled as you descended the stairs, Alice already running down to the kitchen.

“What’s that bloody racket?! Girl! What kind of house do you think this is?!” You soon heard Mrs. Collins and observed her coming out of her rooms, followed by a cloud of cigarette smoke no less thick than the morning fog.

“Morning, Mrs. Collins,” you sighed, then pretended not to notice when Alfie arrived through the front door—though in a manner decidedly quieter than his spawn had.

You also tried to ignore the look he sent you when he saw the state of you; the look that was positively hungry.

“Aye, that’s much how we met, innit, darlin’.”

The smirk that followed the sentiment was quite frankly indecent. You opted to ignore it.

“Merry Christmas, luv.”

“Good morning, Mr. Solomons.”

Alfie chuckled at the snark and let you enter the kitchen first. Much like every morning, the room was freezing and so you busied yourself with starting the fire.

“Might I inquire as to the reason I was awoken at the crack of dawn, Mr. Solomons?”

“Might she inquire, bloody hell woman! ‘Cause I got somethin’ for ya, don’t I? An’ then we gotta leave.”

“Leave?”

You turned around to face the man, since that much got your attention. As per usual, Alfie’s expression told you exactly nothing, though that smirk still lingered.

“Where are you going?”

“Yeah, wouldn’t ya like to know.”

“Yes, I would actually.”

“Sit down already.”

You scoffed at the command and started the tea instead. In the meantime, Alice already placated Mrs. Collins with a colourful box with a bow. From what you could see, it looked like luxury toiletries.

“We’re goin’ away for a few days,” Alfie explained, seeing as he couldn’t get you to oblige him any more than he usually could. “Thought it appropriate to say goodbye first.”

Seeing as “appropriate” wasn’t exactly in the vocabulary of the Solomons family, you rolled your eyes especially hard.

“Yeah, don’t do that, luv. I mean it. Didn’t want to just disappear on ya.”

“Where are you going?” you asked.

“Promised the young one she’ll see the real snow, alright?”

“We have snow in London.”

“Right… But I’m takin’ her away to the country. Seein’ as she’s half-savage, right, some runnin’ around would do her good.”

“Alfie!” you and Alice exclaimed in unison, which for some inexplicable reason caused the man to only grin wider.

“What?” he asked you.

“Well, I…”

“Yeah?”

“I wish you a pleasant trip, Mr. Solomons.”

“That so?”

“Yes. I mean… What do you mean?”

“Right, so you’ll miss me terribly?”

“I never said I would, I–”

“Here’s a thought, luv, why don’t ya come with us?”

When you turned away from the stove, you suddenly realised it was now just you two in the kitchen. Somehow, Alice and Mrs. Collins managed a perfectly quiet exit; no doubt to test the fresh box of makeup together.

Even more confused by the man than usual, you just about managed to sit down before you asked him again:

“Mr. Solomons, I don’t quite understand. Where will you go and why should I come with you?”

Alfie grunted as if the inquiry caused him physical suffering.

“Aye, fuck, ‘s bloody the same with this one, innit. Call me by my name, would ya?”

“I–”

“Do it and I’ll tell ya.”

“Do you suppose we’re playing a game with each other?!”

“Always.”

You didn’t particularly want to oblige him, but since his smirk was growing cheekier by the minute, it was either this or pouring hot tea on his lap.

“Alfie.”

“Yes, darlin’?”

Through clenched teeth you continued:

“Where are you going?”

“Right, luv, perhaps I never told ya, but I have that unfortunate privilege of havin’ a daughter—”

You slammed your cup back on the saucer, which managed to surprise Alfie enough to stop talking.

“You, sir, are insufferable!”

“Yeah, that takes me back…”

“Alfie!”

“Oi, what’s that now?!” He jumped out of his seat when you nearly smacked him across the head with the tea towel.

“I wanted an explanation!”

“Right, so? I’m gettin’ there, woman!”

“No more bloody tales, Alfie!” You pointed your finger at him, entirely fed up. “What in God’s name is the matter?!”

“Nothin’ ‘s the bloody matter, all right?! Fuck’s sake…”

He then did just about the last thing you expected. He reached into his pocket and produced a small box, which he then put in front of you on the table.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“Your gift.”

“I didn’t–”

“Open it.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Just bloody open it, woman, it’s not a bomb!”

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t expect a bomb from you, Alfie Solomons,” you scoffed, but then quickly regretted the venom as soon as you opened the box and saw the gorgeous ring inside it.

“Is that…?”

“Yeah, figured you might like the colour, right, ‘cause I thought it’d match your eyes an’…”

“Are you proposing to me, Alfie?”

“Right, just as long as the rag stays where it is, yeah?” He pointed to the tea towel still firmly clasped in your hand.

Still stunned, you looked at the man and then back at the ring.

“I’m…”

“Look, she loves ya,” Alfie said quickly, as if thinking that the more he talked, the less you could refuse him. “She won’t admit it, an’ you won’t admit it, but I know it, alright, I’m her father–”

“Really…”

“Oi!”

“What?” You grinned at him, thoroughly amused by having the upper hand for once.

“Don’t ya scoff at me when I’m proposin’, right?!”

“Yes, do forgive me.”

“Yeah, you’re forgiven.”

A rare moment of silence fell between you, interrupted only by the sound of your own heart pounding in your chest. When you finally took out the ring and put it on your finger, you almost couldn’t believe it.

“Do ya like it?”

At that moment, Alfie seemed no less dazed than you.

“I love it,” you replied. “But Alfie…”

Finally addressing the elephant in the room, Alfie decided to bare himself to you once more:

“Right, an’ I love you, too. In case that wasn’t fuckin’ clear.”

#alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #alfie solomons fanfiction #peaky blinders reader #peaky blinders x reader #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagine

[hankwritten]

Slake Her Thirst

Pauling/Pyro, 2k Warnings: binge drinking

Sunday (July 9) : Party | Music | Games

Escape was before her. A thin band of light under a closed door. And just as easily, that chance was whisked away by being a second too late to leap on it.

“You’re not staying for the party?” Demo asked, a lager in each hand.

Pauling groaned internally, her hand on the doorknob now as useless as an ice screw left lying on the ground. She drew it back and tried rustle up a smile.

“I didn’t want to impose…” she said.

Which was a bad start because Demo immediately replied with, “Ach! It’s no imposition. We hardly ever see ye lass, it’s good to have you come every now and then.”

Damn. She’d walked right into that. “Seriously, I’m kind of don’t do well at parties, just going to bring the mood down…”

“What’s the matter? Ye got somewhere to be or something?”

There. No way out of this one, not when she’d already tipped her hand and let slip this was her day off. Her palm glumly fell from the doorknob.

“…No. I guess not.”

Demo took this opportunity to shove one of the lagers into her now unoccupied hands.

“Good!” he boomed. “Drinks on the house lassie, so start throwing ‘em back!”

Actually drinks were on TF Industries, and the generous salaries it was doling out to these guys, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She tipped it back and drained it in one, long-running gulp (much to Demo’s enthusiasm as he cheered her on) and wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve when she was done. She was probably going to need several of these to make it through tonight.

Because mercenary parties were nothing to sneeze at. Pauling wasn’t a fan of normal parties—of their prying, incessant purpose to crack you open and get you to spill yourself onto confetti and barely trustworthy acquaintances—and the mercs of 2Fort didn’t stop at too loud music and a lot of beer. No, a lot didn’t even begin to cover it. It was a stupid amount of beer. A disaster-waiting-to-happen amount of beer. And she was right there in the middle of it.

Sniper had brought his family’s moonshine. Heavy, as she watched, hauled a truly massive keg into the base common room. Even Pyro was drinking a beer through a curly straw.

That last one was pretty adorable, actually.

“Ah, so you decided to stay after all!”

The sudden appearance of the team’s Medic made her jump, and if there were still beer in her mug she certainly would have sloshed it over herself. Medic, immediately categorizing this as a deficiency, replaced her lager with a full one.

“Oktoberfest!” he cheered warmly.

“It’s July,” Pauling said.

“Not if you find the spirit of the season in your heart,” he said.

She shrugged, and began to imbue from the new one as well. Still, her eyes kept finding her way back to the Pyro, even as she hid it behind glass and glasses. Medic, of course noticed.

“He was very much hoping you would stay,” Medic said. “It was his idea to do the briefcase pre-check, thought you would be more inclined if we did so.”

That had been a welcome surprise when she’d first stopped on base, saving her the hassle of going through the checks herself.

“I should go say thanks then,” she said honestly. “Maybe try to get him to itemize my other classified documents too.”

It was a joke, but one not too far from the truth; she trusted with secrets, and that trust went both ways. Namely, the fact that ‘he’ wasn’t an accurate descriptor.

Or at least, that’s what the Administrator said. She hadn’t really provided any proof, or what Pyro might look like under that suit—that was left to Pauling’s imagination and it was something she really shouldn’t be thinking about while drunk and approaching Pyro’s sofa. She waved the thoughts away.

It wasn’t hard to guess the reason for the deception. This was a man’s job, and no one was going to let you forget it. Every other person in this room was showboating and getting hopped on testosterone, and even if they’d always treated her kindly, she’d never be treated the same. The Administrator wasn’t immune to either—to work for Helen you did assassinations in heels and you negotiated weapons contracts in a skirt, and if you couldn’t do that you went home. Even now, she could feel Scout’s eyes on her, desperate to come over and wind up another ill-fated schmooze on her, only screened by the Engineer trying to convince him of something.

So no, she didn’t begrudge the Pyro for being private. And she certainly wasn’t going to be the one to blab to the guys.

“Heyyy buddyyy~” she said upon reaching Pyro and wow was she drunk if her voice was already doing that thing.

Pyro didn’t mind, immediately sweeping her up into a bone-crushing hug.

“Good to see you too. Thanks for um…the um…briefcase thing.”

Though, maybe if she’d still been stuck in the intelligence room, she would have had a valid excuse to skip the party. Oh well. She was actually starting to enjoy herself.

And becoming a little afraid of what that meant. Quashing the little part of herself that hated losing composure, hated becoming uninhibited.

“Hudda huh?” Pyro asked, setting Pauling down.

“Noooo…I’ve only had like. Two.” Within the span of ten minutes.

“Mmph,” Pyro said, tapping her own straw.

“Contest? Oh hell yeah. You’re on.” Then Pauling’s brain caught up with her words. “I mean, actually, I probably shouldn’t stay for too long…”

“Pssy.”

“Oh fuck you! You’re the pussy.”

So Pauling chugged the party down thoroughly, Pyro by her side and matching her drink for drink. Until the straw proved to be too much of a limiter, and Pauling started taking on extra drinks while waiting, taunting Pyro to catch up.

She found herself on the dance floor, maybe being a bit too clingy to her ‘favorite buddy’. But she quickly soothed that spike of worry—they guys were taking notice, and maybe having a bit of a laugh as Pyro and Pauling made clumsy fools of themselves to the overly sugary music, but as far as they knew there was nothing wrong with it. Sure Scout was oddly put out, but that was a blessing really, and the whole situation became almost comforting. That for one night, maybe things would go well.

“Huddah huh!”

“Keg stand? I can’t do a keg stand! I’m in a skirt!”

“Hudd mmrr huh.”

“Pantyhose don’t count as pants. They’re underwear, Pyro.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh!”

Somehow, maybe a testament to her level of inebriation and a sign that she should stop this, Pyro convinced her to do a keg stand under the conditions she would hold up her skirt while she did it. The nearest mercenaries cheered when she finished, and she put both fists up in victory.

“Wooo!”

“Mmmm!” Pyro echoed.

“This is great! I’m having so much fun. I can’t even remember why I didn’t want to have fun in the first place.”

“Great to hear it, lass,” Demo said.

“You guys are my best friends! I feel like my skin is on fire. I could kill every person in this room and no one would even care. I’m holding together the world’s most expensive corporate conspiracy with packing wire and multicolored sticky notes and I can’t even get a government mandated sick day! Isn’t that funny? Ha. Haha. HAHA.”

It wasn’t that funny.

“Pmmph hudd?”

“I’M HAVING SO MUCH FUN.”

She doubled over laughing. She tried to wrap her arms around her stomach to keep the fun inside her, but it wasn’t helping. The laughter was shaking every cell in her body, threatening to tear her apart at the seams.

The mercenaries were milling about in concern, and it was only Pyro holding up a hand that kept them back.

She found herself in Pyro’s room. Minutes blurred by or when on achingly slowly with no rhyme or reason, and the hysteria only started to lessen when the thrum of the party was applied through several layers of base walls.

“This,” she said, still trying to hold herself with arms and elbows. “This is why I can’t. Can’t let it go for even a second.”

“Mmm hurr?” Pyro sat by her on the bed.

“It’s like molecules in a solid. Stress is keeping you together. But then you start bombarding them with energy and they bounce off each other and then the whole structure goes bleh and leaks like goo out of the edges.”

Pyro was rubbing her back. Pauling’s hands found her shoulders, her neck, the edge where the suit met the mask. She was barely thinking, here whole structure, her whole all of her leaking over the edges and on to Pyro.

“And I just…I can’t let my guard down for even a second…”

Except for now maybe. When her lips were bumping against rubber mask that was just close enough to skin it could trick her brain into believing something else.

What was she doing? What was doing? They other guys might know Pyro was a woman, but Pyro knew was a woman, and here she was now doing something that definitely couldn’t be brushed off as being too drunk or too out of her mind…

But Pyro wasn’t pushing her away. Even as Pauling straddled her, gloves came up the back of Pauling’s neck, undoing her chignon and letting her hair fall black and cascading around them. They were suddenly kissing in a tent of darkness, and Pauling was here, on pushing her flat onto the bed, her finger’s searching for the zipper of the chemsuit-

“Prrmmng.”

It had to be here, somewhere along the neckline-

“Prrmmng,” Pyro said more firmly, guiding them back into a sitting position.

“What?”

“Hudda mur hhrm.”

Pauling tried to follow the finger as it moved from one side of her face to the other. She really did. But suddenly one finger became six, then down to two, and then her eyes started to hurt for no reason as the scrutiny of the blank lenses kept her pinned. Pyro shook her head, and gently moved Pauling off her lap.

“Shit. Shit, Pyro I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Pyro silenced her wish a shake of her head, and gently cupped Pauling’s cheek with a gloved palm. An assurance that everything was alright.

It didn’t feel alright. But she was suddenly so, so tired, and didn’t have it in her to fight anymore. She could only manage one last surrender, obeying when Pyro told her to get some rest. Collapsing unfamiliar pillow, her hair spread out in an absolute mess, she let the mercenary take off her kitten heels and pull a thin blanket over her shoulders.

The rim a plastic filter nudged her temple, a kiss goodnight.

#TF2RarePairMini2023 #pyropauling #missfire #tf2 fanfiction

[doll-elvis]

It's kind of difficult to discern what's true about E and what isn't, because so much of what's been written about him directly conflicts with other things. So it's hard to keep track of what's really true and what's just rumor that got twisted and blown out of proportion.

Me personally, I tend to not trust Lamar, Nash or the Stanleys, because they've all been proven to at best, not have the best memory of things, or at worst be outright liars for money.

I agree completely and throughout my journey of reading about Elvis I’ve learned to not take anything as truth until I have cross referenced between books/interviews and it’s been confirmed by multiple people or at least coincides with behavior that Elvis usually exhibited

** I also highly highly recommend elvislibrary (who is on Instagram and has the biggest elvis book collection I’ve ever seen😫) as well as elvisinfonet for books reviews, whenever I start a new book I usually check out their reviews beforehand as they give great insight to whether the book is credible or not

I have discovered that literally anyone who has breathed the same oxygen as Elvis has come out and shared a story or written a book about him. This man was even more exploited after his death than while he was living and it just angers me. Everyone who knew him has made money off of him in some way and I realized that people will say anything if they think it is a story that will sell

And “Baby let’s play house” by Alanna Nash was actually the first Elvis book I ever read, and foolishly, I believed every story in it, no matter how outrageous it was. Then I started to do a little basic research and I realized she has allowed so many fabricated stories in her book and has given a platform to several people who aren’t credible

Like the whole relationship with Tura Santana never happened and Elvis never even met her even though she claims he proposed, yet Alanna Nash shared her story. And Elvis did not publicly dry hump the fake dog Nipper on stage like she claims, he just wiggled 😭 And Nash uses Byron Raphael as a source, who she co-wrote a playboy article with in 2008, when it’s been confirmed that he never actually worked for Elvis and only very briefly worked for the Colonel (and the playboy article is full of the most blatant lies ever, I cannot believe this woman is regarded as a credible biographer 🤧!!!)

As you said, I’m very wary of Lamar Fike also, he tends to over-exaggerate things and I found his perception of events to be a whole lot different from others when they are describing the same stories

As for the Stanleys, Dee is literally one of the nastiest people you will ever learn about in the Presley circle and it truly disgusts me that Elvis treated her and her sons so kindly (even though he didn’t like her) and she repaid him by going to a tabloid magazine and telling a made up story to make money

What’s most disgusting is that she made up lies about two people she never even met (Gladys Presley and Nick Adams) and only used people who had already passed away as sources for her book like saying that Vernon Presley, Minnie Mae (Elvis’ grandmother) and Alberta (former maid), all knew that Elvis was in a s*xual relationship with his mother. Obviously all these people weren’t here to say otherwise and that is why she wrote the book (I hate that woman so muchhh that I’m getting mad just typing this 💀)

Ricky and David I’m not too crazy about either but I give them a little bit of respect for calling out their mother and saying her book was full of lies

Honestly the only Stanley books worth reading are by Billy Stanley and I really loved his two books “The faith of Elvis” and “Elvis: My Brother”, I found his insight really unique and I really really appreciated his honesty (if y’all didn’t know Elvis had a brief affair with Billy’s 18 year old wife named Annie, and it was a mess 😭!!!)

If y’all want to be entertained Dee Stanley went on the Geraldo talk show in the 90s alongside Joe Esposito and J.D Sumner to talk about the whole Gladys story and they absolutely drag her 😫 J.D lowkey wanted to slap her and I don’t blame him at all

unfortunately some of the audience believes her about Gladys so that was frustrating to watch but other than that, Dee gets absolutely humiliated 😃

#thank you for the ask <3 #it breaks my heart that people will not let Elvis rest and continue to use his name to sell sensationalized stories #I literally do more research about Elvis than I do for school #because people have lied so much about him you cannot trust anything!! #I wish Elvis could’ve karate chopped Dee Stanley in the face 😃 #The biggest downgrade in history was going from Gladys to Dee #elvisaaronpresley #elvis #elvis presley #elvis asks

[sarifinasnightmare]

Something for Herself

Rating: For Everyone

Summary: Sarah rarely get to have anything for herself.

Author's Note: Sorry, I'm currently not okay and I've been focusing on my health, but I got back to Tumblr and remembered the writing prompt. This isn't much but I wanted to contribute something.

Prompt: I think it looks nice.

During the five years that Sarah struggled to keep her family afloat, she sacrificed so much of herself. The last time she pampered herself, gave herself a break or just bought something for herself was before her husband passed away from cancer. She had dedicated herself to help him with his treatment and then he died. Then Sam got in trouble with the Avengers. Then a hurricane almost sank the boat. Then the Blip happened, and money became even tighter. She could no longer think about her needs and had to focus on everything else.

When Sam came back he quickly sussed things out and wasn’t pleased to see how cheaply his sister had treated herself. The minute he came into some money he got her a little gold necklace with a small plump heart at the center. “Filled with love, that’s what you are.” He said when he gave it to her.

Sarah decided to wear her new gift on Easter Sunday but none of her dresses looked good enough so she went to some thrift shops to see if anything would do. As much as she would’ve wanted a new dress, growing boys went through clothes like tissues, so she was still limited in funds. Eventually she found something acceptable; a plain, yellow cold shoulder dress that she cinched at the waist so it fit her properly.

Easter was a happy affair. Sam came down so people were excited to see how the new Cap was doing. He announced the egg hunt which sent the kids bounding into the wide-open lawn looking for brightly colored, candy filled plastics before taking tons of pictures and allowing himself to be cooed over by the ladies.

Meanwhile Sarah rolled her eyes at it all and focused instead on manning the dessert table.  Her sons were off messing around with their friends, no doubt dragging Bucky with them to join the fun. He hadn’t been back to Delacroix since the last celebration. Apparently, the government had been keeping him busy. They had barely got to speak before other things parted them, but Sarah had to admit that he looked nice in his blue jeans, white t-shirt and black jacket, although it was a bit too hot for it. He had stared at her, looking as if he had wanted to say something before her sons got a hold of him and whisked him away.

So far things have gone well. The kids were checking their eggs, the adults were sitting around on the beautiful April day eating and conversing while she and the other volunteers organized and store the leftovers.

“Hey.”

Sarah looked up and saw Bucky standing in front of the nearly empty dessert table with his hands shoved in his pockets offering a timid smile.

She smiled back. “Hey got a sweet tooth? Still have a bit of pies left.”

“Uh no…I had some earlier…”

“No, you didn’t. I’ve been here all afternoon and I never saw you.”

“You didn’t…Yeah, you’re right. Don’t know why I said that.”

“You want to try some then or you don’t have a sweet tooth?” She asked kindly.

Bucky shrugged. “I used to, before. Most things nowadays taste overly sweet.”

“Mm, I imagine sugar back then wasn’t as processed.” She mused. “How about something light then?”

“Actually, I came here because I wanted to talk to you.” He blurted out.

She straightened. “Did the boys do anything?”

“No, no! They’re great. They’ve done a lot to make me feel welcomed and no doubt it’s because they’ve had such an amazing role model like yourself.”

She grinned. “Why thank you, Bucky, that’s very sweet of you.”

“I also wanted to say that you look very beautiful in that dress today.” He added.

A flush of heat swept over her cheeks, and she laughed. “You’re kidding. This old thing?”

“Is it old? I can’t tell. I mean I don’t pay much attention to the fashion nowadays but I like this.” He swept his gaze over her openly. “I think it looks nice.”

His gaze made her stomach tremble, and she fingered the simple fabric of her skirt, then shrugged. “It’s just an old thing I found at a thrift shop. I liked the color.”

“It makes you look bright…and happy.” He cleared his throat a bit. “I was wondering if you would wear it again if I took you to dinner.”

Her heart suddenly decided to freefall to her feet. He had spoken to her in a flirty manner once before and now here he is trying again. Dare she return the favor? “I-I mean I could wear it again…if you’re asking me out to a romantic dinner.”

He caught on and started to grin. “You’re in luck. I specialize in romantic dinners.”

“I’m glad one of us does. I haven’t had any type of romance in nearly a decade.” she admitted.

“Are the men of this town dead? I noticed you since the first time and yeah your brother threatened me not to flirt with you, but,” he sighed, “I can’t help it. You’re too beautiful to pass up.”

The blush spread from her cheeks down to her toes and she lowered her head modestly. “Flattery will get you somewhere At least with me.” She smiled sweetly. “I’ll call you.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait.” Bucky agreed with a matching smile.

A date with a man cute enough to make her heart skip a bit.  She couldn’t dare pass it up, besides she deserves something for herself.

#fleurdelouve month #fleurdelouve #sarahbucky #sarah/bucky #bucky barnes #sarah wilson #fleur de louve #bucky barnes fatws #bucky barnes fandom #sam wilson tfatws #sarah wilson tfatws #sam wilson fatws #sarah wilson fatws #captain america #capt america #the winter soldier #bucky x sarah #sarah x bucky #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x sarah wilson #sarah wilson x bucky barnes #bucky barnes ship #mcu ships #marvel ships #tfatws fic #marvel events #marvel blog #mcu blog #sebastian stan #adepero oduye

[illness]

After a rough year of health, my grandpa departed from this plane about 28 hours ago. I’m treating myself kindly, but my heart has a noticeable absence inside.

He was a guy who always, always did everything for everyone – if you need your deck restained? Done. Need a new shower? Give him like a week and it’s there. Want a new window? Yeah dude he had it done in a day or two. Like. A tree fell through this man’s ceiling and he had it tidied up, with assistance, in a week. When my mom needed a ramp for her wheelchair in her final months, he had it made in a few days. He got shit done, always with others in mind.

He was also secretive with a lot of things; we knew he was declining over the past year just by looking at him, his tremors, a noticeable decrease in blood flow. But he was still doing jobs and painting houses. He was just that kind of guy and I respected it heavily. I envy it still. Everything he labored was with love and care that you could not find from anyone else. He amazed me.

He was preceded in death by the love of his life, we’ll call him Dean. I never met Dean – he passed a little before the turn of the century, so I only know him in stories. They helped raise my mother together – her mom wasn’t in the picture for much of her adolescence, but those two were. My mom only ever spoke in adoration of them. Things weren’t stable and they moved a lot, but they had love – and they always had her. I knew he did experience a few hate crimes, around the 60s or 70s, which breaks my heart. I never brought up his sexuality with him – mainly because it wasn’t my business, and I felt no need to prod at him about this open familial secret – but I wish he could have lived in the time that I do right now. Even with all its trials and tribulations. Despite all that… he had many admirers. Male and female. A real ladykiller. That did come with some stalking… he had a man who was highly interested in him try to sneak in through the dog door in his house. 🫣 even still, I can see where they’re coming from… he was a stud!

Speaking on my mother, my grandpa would move mountains for her. When we would go on our little beach excursion every year, he would go to our house and always fix something up or add some new fixture. I remember him totally redoing our kitchen, our bathroom, our dingy little porch in the back… we would be gone for a week max, so he would check on our animals and workshop. He still did this even in a damn recession. No cost, no questions, just love.

And the animals he had! He grew up on a farm with a slew of sisters and a few brothers, and he just always had something. He had these gorgeous salukis with my mom when she was growing up, and once he got his own house, he would always have his own dog and a crowd of stray cats that he would inevitably befriend. He even rescued a baby squirrel and raised it before trying to send it back into the wild – I think it stuck around in his backyard for the most part, still visiting him and climbing on his his shoulders. The animal who held his heart the most was Sam, a golden retriever my mom picked out herself and gifted him. He lived to about 8 or 9, but that was his soul animal.

Following Dean, the other loss that changed him was my mom. It’s almost been half a decade since she left, and I knew that broke him. His only daughter gone before 50 – what do you do? I don’t know. But he still kept my sister and I in mind, always, making sure we were set. He left us a house – the same house we all grew up in, with decades of work inside. All for my sibling and I to live comfortably. A house with the most beautiful backyard full of elephant ears, hydrangeas, tulips, pea pods. A backyard that I spent hours running around in, with a shed that’s got tools for days and a fully working kitchen. Somehow.

I don’t know where I’m really going with this. The fact that he spent so many of his final years making sure our family would be okay, to set up this level of comfort for us – I have been musing over it constantly these past few days.

Something I loved about him was how comfortable with silence he was. I would walk with him and his dog in the neighborhood as a child, rattling off sentences constantly, and he just nodded and listened. As I got older, I became quieter for a multitude of reasons. I remember just sitting in the yard while he did his work, never feeling pressure to talk – we didn’t need to. Taking in nature instead of forcing small talk. I never thought that I would miss not saying anything with him, because there’s so much I wish I could have asked him, even still. Though I regret not opening up more, I still look upon the quiet fondly. He appreciated it, and I appreciated him for it.

I’m going to miss him a lot. Understatement. Getting older has been very hard on me and I’m not even at a quarter of a century yet, lol. My heart is sore but I am eternally grateful for what he’s taught me and what he has left for our family to continue on with.

I will close this jumble of words with my favorite story about him. One day, circa early 70s, my grandpa calls out of work and tells his boss he’s sick. Really, he just wanted to take his daughter to the park with her mother/his spouse at the time. Conveniently, someone with the local paper is there and snaps a quick pic of the group after a brief chat.

The next day, he’s reading the paper, checking the weather for the week… and then he sees it:

I don’t know if his boss found out or if there were repercussions, but it’s still my favorite thing to recount. It’s just such a thing he would absolutely do. I love it.

No amount of words could properly sum up who he was, truthfully. He was one in a trillion, and I am grateful that I had the honor of being part of his time on Earth. I had a less-than-stellar childhood and upbringing at times, but he was always a safe space for me. It’s a high honor to be a man in my life with little flaw – he is one of the few I can bestow that upon. I can’t exaggerate just how much of a beacon of light he was in our lives.

I’m grateful that I was able to hold his hand as he transitioned, becoming free of the ailments that tried to rescind his independence. I will never know what waits for us after life, but I’d like to think that he is in some sort of heaven – adding a fresh coat of paint onto the pearly gates, dozens of animals and people eagerly awaiting his arrival. I know he’s back with the loves of his life, the ones he longed for from the moment they departed; his daughter, his Dean, and his Sam-bone. How beautiful and deserved that is for him, my Papa, to be free of decades-long grief. ❤️

#thank you for reading if you do #he had a beautiful soul that I find very hard to summarize.

[potuzzz]

TLDR: A good, effective communist these days should be doing everything in their power, even dirty shit, even straight up being a capitalist, to Play, and to Win, The Game here in the imperial core.

` ` `

(No longer TLDR)

` ` `

I don't even want to open the can of worms that is Caleb Maupin, but a quote from him that I deeply resonate with, and that I think all im the Western Left should resonate with, is "out of the movement, and into the masses."

Here in the United States especially, the situation is so dire that we need to put on our War Hat and prepare to (potentially drastically) reduce our moral, ideological, and ethical standards for ourselves and our comrades.

The current methods have proven disastrously ineffective.

In war, if you can afford it, absolutely you should do the right thing. You should avoid civilian casualties and critical infrastructure, you should treat POWs kindly, you should loudly and patiently give enemies a chance to surrender, to tend to their wounded, to evacuate non combatants. Etc., etc.

However, we can not afford it. The current methods have failed us. We are behind. We are losing The Game, the dog eat dog game that this world is under a capitalist hegemony.

We do not have the power to dictate the rules of engagement. That isn't to say that small acts of kindness are not important, they are, but as a matter of policy, of doctrine? Mask off today. Scorched earth if need be.

We need money, we need power, we need numbers. By any means necessary. It is that simple.

If you're a comrade, go get you some money. Go get you some power. By any means necessary.

Another favorite quote:

"Revolution is no place for silk gloves."

Every successful revolution and socialist country has had periods of great struggle, where corners both material and moral had to be cut (certainly not to the extent of their enemies, nor the propaganda their enemies painted of them).

China had a period of ideological hardline, the Cultural Revolution. It was a disaster for them! To survive to play another day, and to play the long game, they then shifted towards opportunistic and shameless Dengism. And, by following the code of Socialism By Any Means Necessary, we arrive at where they are today under Xi: implementing incredible reforms that DO speak loudly to morals and ethics, that DO spend that little extra bit of cash or time or effort, just to do THE RIGHT THING...because they can afford it NOW, only AFTER the winnings of cold and calculating Dengism.

Again, we are not our enemies, and we never will be. Even in war, communist forces universally do not commit the amount of atrocities that capitalist or especially fascist forces do. We're softies. We care about people and mark-ass shit like that. But if, in those military conflicts, these softies across time and space didn't say, "Okay, I will kill a man to protect my home and people and thus socialism. I don't have to enjoy it, but I have to do it," they would have gone extinct.

We are at war. It has been here for a long time, it is just made to be obscure and indirect. It will get hotter as time goes on. It is a Cold War right now, but the consequences in the long term will be the same.

We are at war, and I think on a global scale, the war is over. Save for something truly heinous like Nuclear Armageddon, capitalism has lost. Socialism has won. It's just a matter of waiting for the rabid dog to die, minimizing the damage as it thrashes about, and for exorcising the poison out of all the bite marks it has left across the world.

However, on a much smaller scale, such as the United States, the future is not so clearly bright. I feel like our sins are great and they will come home to roost. I feel like this limb will be in many ways amputated from the rest of the world. Oh, they're gonna build a Wall all right. Just not facing the direction US Americans think it will.

` ` `

I disagree with @txttletale here but make sure to check out this blog it's great innit.

#txttletale #politics #communism #pragmatism #praxis #political strategy #western leftists #marxism leninism #tankie #anti tankie #socialism #psa #leftism #political discourse #imperialism #capitalism #revolutionary #american fascism #channelling #fortune telling

[local-vampire-enjoyer]

Have a photo of Astarion biting Fall :D (I need to get more photos) Day 4, Halloween party

Rating: Fluff???? Idk Maybe some slight angst, is there such a thing as an angsttober prompt list? Sister dearest hasn't even opened the Google doc will all the prompts to at least read them, so not beta read. Once again, I was a tired gremlin when I wrote this. Though if anyone has any tips for writing. DM me

Once again spoilers for the ending/Act 3

Male Drow Tav, Charlatan background, Paladin Class, Oath of Vengence.

Fall and Astarion arrive at the noble's house, “Oh by the nine hells… Astarion, love, my favorite biting friend. I remember very clearly stealing from this place about 20 years ago.” Fall refused to take another step towards the house. He remembered the entrance of this place way too well. Maybe he was also trying to get out of talking to people that he wouldn’t be able to relate to in any way. 

“Darling, they are humans. They are up to an age where they forget. I don’t think they’ll recognize you.”Astarion sighed, the moonlight offered a foggy look to the place. 

“Fine, but if I get jailed. I’ll be agitated” Fall sighed as he grabbed Astarion’s arm gently and dragged him into the place. The place was extravagant, like all the places in the upper city, it was just painted with festivities that would fit Feast of the Moon.

Fall moved slightly closer to Astarion when the two of them entered a crowded room. His eyes checked for exits and any possible threats. “There he is! The hero!” An old noble lady smiled brightly coming up to the two elves who were basically the odd ones out due to their history. It was not easy for two traumatized men to go back to life who did not care for them.

“Thank you for inviting us, Lady Vevosk,” Fall remembered the first time he saw the lady, the years treated her kindly it seemed. Fall knew a god or goddess had to be looking out for him since she did not seem to remember Fall from all those years ago. 

“Of course, what type of person would I be if I didn’t invite the man who saved our great city?” Lady Vevosk looked at Fall and then Astarion before clearing her throat. “I hope you two enjoy your time here.”

Fall started to breathe normally once the lady left. “Too late to leave?” Astarion grinned as he looked over at Fall. “This party seems a bit too formal, we could strike some chaos, darling.” 

Fall loved the sound of that, though he did not want the lady’s memory to start working like clockwork again. “Astarion, I would love to do that. But maybe something small… something that the woman would just think she misplaced something.”

—-

Fall would never admit that he is actually having fun at this party. Someone would have to threaten him greatly before he admits it.  The two elves were now strolling in one of the many halls that the place had to offer. “These times were always Nordove’s favorite time to cause chaos.” Fall just randomly spoke out, Nordove was a half-drow that he grew close with. His old partner in crime and he saw her as a little sister. They both had no one before each other met. 

“I would’ve loved to meet her.”

“She would’ve hated you. Especially since how we originally acted around one another.” Fall admitted, Astarion chuckled. When Fall and Astarion first met, Astarion did not like Fall since he tried to disarm him. Fall had a good reason considering the knife was at his neck. “Fair enough.”

“Though, she would’ve grown to like you. You would’ve started to hate her… I hope that her case can see the light one day.” 

Astarion and Fall then arrived on a balcony, it looked over the city that was slowly being rebuilt. The view was something though, the stars shined brightly. Astarion looked over at his drow lover, the pain in his autumn-colored eyes showed how much this small conversation still opened a wound that still had yet to heal. The vampire-spawn thought about what to do for a second and thought of the ways that Fall comforted him.

Fall felt the arm of his lover wrap around his shoulders, then a small gentle kiss on his head. Fall welcomed the comfort as it never really welcomed him. It felt like a small weight was lifted off his shoulders. It was one simple gesture, but it showed how much this night weighed on him. “Thank you.”

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #bg3 drow #drow tav #omg lore #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #sleep deprived af #I need to make a list of tags I swear #promptober

[eddiebillysteve]

cat and mouse

pairing | billy hargrove/steve harrington (also minor mentions of argyle/jonathan byers)

summary | because of one little mistake, steve harrington winds up in prison. his cellmate? top dog billy hargrove.

a/n | i'm really nervous about posting anything dark, but i had to see what happened if billy were to make steve his bitch in prison. tame first chapter, but the next few will be much darker / more triggering. prison is a dog eat dog world and people perceived as 'weak' aren't treated too kindly especially by people as intimidating as top dog billy hargrove. if this is triggering for you, maybe don't read and come talk to me about soft harringrove instead !! find it on ao3 here !!

warnings | drug use, drug dealing, intimidating prison talk, dark/dom billy hargrove bc he wants to turn steve into his bitch, stuff like that !!

“Well, I’ll be damned. Knew I was getting a new cellie but didn’t think it’d be someone so pretty.”

Steve’s head snapped up at the purr of a voice coming from the doorway. Before him was a man, cigarette dangling from his lips, with a shirt that seemed to be a size too small. It looked it, at least, because the prison issued bottoms were a size too big and tied tight around his waist. After taking him in for a moment too long, Steve all but jumped up from his bunk. The top one had already clearly been taken, so he’d simply assumed the bottom was his.

He didn’t know bunks held a certain meaning amongst the inmates and that he’d made a grave mistake by simply accepting the bottom one without even trying to get his hands on the top.

Billy was grinning from ear to ear. If the colour of the boy’s uniform didn’t give away that he was a first-time prisoner, the scared look on his face certainly did. “Well done for taking the bottom bunk, bambi boy. My last bunkie wasn’t so easy going.” His eyes narrowed slightly, and he slid his gaze down Steve’s body. The man was beautiful, with the most gorgeous hair Billy had ever seen, but there was only one thing on his mind.

He wondered if he’d cried when the guards had done their cavity check, had told him to do the humiliating squat and cough, and then he wondered if he’d cry when Hargrove broke him in, or if he’d go stoney and cold, pretend like it was happening, like he was somewhere else entirely.

“I’m easy going, man. I swear. I don’t want any problems,” Steve immediately said, the words coming out in a nervous rush.

“I’m sure you don’t,” Billy cooed in return, taking his cigarette from between his lips to blow smoke out through his nose. “What’s your name?”

“Steve Harrington,” he offered his hand out to shake, as if they were in a job interview and Steve was trying to be a gentleman to his potential future boss.

“Rule number one, Stevie. If anyone asks what your name is, you tell them it’s Harrington. Understand?” When Steve nodded a little dumbly, Billy had to try not to laugh. He reached out and grasped Steve’s hand in one of his, and then put his second one around them so both of his were holding the one Steve had offered out. He was sweet, Billy thought. Way too sweet for a federal prison. “How the hell did a little thing like you wind up in here?”

“I was…” Steve hesitated before heaving a sigh. “I made a mistake. A huge one. My friend, I was over to his place, and he had some…” He didn’t want to say it. It was humiliating to admit. “Just some stuff. He gave me some to take home and I got pulled over and caught with it. It was a mistake.”

Billy watched as the boy ran a hand through his hair. Just some stuff. He almost started laughing again. Clearly, Steve wasn’t an addict, and he certainly wasn’t a violent offender, either. “Rule number two is never answer that. Don’t tell anyone in here why you’re in here. If they keep at you, you tell them Hargrove’s your bunkie.”

“Hargrove?” Harrington’s soft face scrunched in confusion and Billy had to resist cooing at him some more. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to be blessed with this kid as a cellmate. “Why would they stop then? Are you respected in here, or something?” It looked like some sort of realization hit him, and Steve took a step back. “What are you in here for?”

Billy stalked forward a little, getting closer to him. They were the same height, but Steve was smaller than him, skinnier. He didn’t have the defined muscles and big arms that Hargrove had spent so many years perfecting. “Rule number three. Don’t ask questions. You’re lucky you landed me as your cellie, Harrington. The other men in here?” He shifted closer again, and when Steve took a step back, he hit the wall. The air was suddenly sucked from his lungs. He was trapped in a cell with a criminal who could do absolutely anything to him. In a few hours the cell door would be locked and there would be nowhere to run, no way to escape. Even if he made a dash for it now, he’d wound up right back where he started when the correctional officers realized what he was trying.

“They eat fresh meat like you alive. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve seen happen to the poor men that come in here. Most of them barely make it through their first night. But you don’t have to worry about that, Stevie. Not with me. I’ll treat you real nice, I promise.” He reached his hand up, touching the backs of his fingers to Steve’s hot cheeks, but the boy recoiled like he’d been burnt by fire. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll take care of you, make sure you’re safe. Once everyone knows I’m your cellmate, no one will even look your way. Not without my permission, anyway.”

His smile curled into a smirk and Steve wished he could disappear into the wall he was leaning against. He wished it would swallow him whole and spit him out at home, in his own bed, with his own food in the kitchen and his own car in the driveway. He refused to believe prison was his current reality. People like him didn’t end up in places like these. People like him were supposed to go to college, become businessmen, have stay at home wives and six kids running around. He was supposed to live a comfortable and boring life, but now he was facing five years in a cell with a man who was eating him up like his body was a piece of apple pie. He wouldn’t be able to do it, he could already feel himself shutting down. He couldn’t do one night on the paper-thin mattress, using a toilet in the tiniest cell where his bunk mate could see him, let alone five whole years.

He remembered when Nancy Reagan came to Hawkins High with her anti-drug campaign that was making national news. There were Just Say No posters plastered all over the school, a local radio show had covered her speech on air, and every kid under the age of thirteen had signed a little certificate promising that they would never do drugs. He remembered how hilarious Tommy had thought it was when they’d tried to get the high school kids to sign them, and how he’d laughed along with him.

They’d treated it like a joke, like they were way too clever to get caught if they ever decided to try some.

If he could have, he would have gone back in time to shake some fear into his teenage self. He would have gotten him to sign the stupid sheet of paper and tell him that in a few years, they’d make a new law to ramp up the war on drugs, and he’d wind up in jail for five years for having barely five grams of crack cocaine in his pocket, all because he’d wanted to forget about his shit job at Scoops Ahoy and the fact that he hadn’t gotten into college. He’d just wanted to feel good, instead of like an idiot, like a disappointment.

He felt so stupid. So incredibly stupid.

“Rule number four,” Billy broke through his thoughts, voice much lower than before. “Don’t cry until lights out. If anyone hears you at night, they won’t be able to figure out which cell it’s coming from.” Still keeping eye contact, Billy put out his cigarette on the ashtray that was sitting on the tiny wooden desk, one of the only pieces of furniture in the tiny cell, along with a wooden chair and the bunks attached to the walls. Once it was out of his hands, he reached up to carefully wipe the tears out from under his eyes with his thumb. “They’ll turn you into their little June bug if they hear you crying during daylight, and I don’t think I want to share you yet.” He pulled one hand back from Steve’s face to pop his thumb in his mouth, wanting to taste the tears, wanting to consume everything he had to offer.

Steve’s eyes were glued to Billy’s mouth as he sucked the finger dry, and Billy was devouring Steve’s frightened expression in return. He wanted to see his tears; tears of humiliation, tears of sadness, tears of pain.

Maybe tears of relief and happiness, if it went along with the game he was starting to play.

After a moment, he pulled his thumb out and took a step back and away from him. “I’ve got some shit to do. Stay in here, make your bed, have a nap. I’ll come get you for chow and then we can have a proper conversation tonight about how this is going to work.”

Steve shivered at the smirk that accompanied his last few words. He wasn’t naive enough to think he’d get free protection by someone who was clearly as respected as Billy was; everything came with a price.

***

“What’s got you so happy, brochacho?”

Argyle, an inmate that had been transferred from a prison in California, was not only Billy’s closest ally, but his business partner. They’d known of each other before meeting within the prison walls, with both boys having the same supplier; Argyle was the person to go to for the best weed in California, just as Billy was known in Indiana, but they’d really bonded over their love of the golden state.

Billy had grown up in California before moving to Hawkins as a teenager. He’d loved it there and still missed it every second of every day. When he’d been first locked up, he’d made a vow to himself that as soon as he was freed, he’d move back to the west coast. He was going to get clean of the drug dealing life and start over.

But that was still a long way away.

“New bunkie got here today,” Billy gave him a cheeky grin and leaned back against Argyle’s cell door. “I’ve got me a new little pet. Finally.”

“Sweet. Now you can stop whining about it,” Argyle joked, finishing what he was scribbling onto a sheet of paper. Between the two of them, their business was successful – Argyle was the brains of the operation, the one that stayed in contact with their supplier and arranged deliveries through one of the many corrupted guards, and Billy was the brawns. It was his job to ensure their buyers got what they needed, and more importantly, paid up. It wasn’t all on him, though; he had his men to do all the physical work. He was just the one that called the shots.

It wasn’t like he wanted to risk getting more time added to his sentence. There were many inmates with life sentences that had nothing left to lose that were more than willing to beat the shit out of anyone Billy instructed in return for a few pills to feed their addictions.

Billy knew it was wrong, taking advantage of so many men with addictions and draining their bank accounts to the point that they couldn’t afford to buy soap from the commissary, but it was a dog-eat-dog business. He had learned very quickly that he had to do whatever he had to in order to survive, and that prison ran on a very, very different system than the outside world.

When he’d first landed himself in jail, he’d been a lot like Steve. Frightened, small, broken. He had suffered through too much before finally learning how to survive and make his way to the top. There were still some new men that tried to do the same, tried to take over as top dog, but it was always quite easy to shut them down. A few crystals of crack in their sock drawer, and they were whisked away to a higher security prison and out of his hair. Or, if they were really annoying, a rock in a sock worked just as efficiently.

“Fuck off. I wasn’t whining,” He scoffed. “I was just bored. Everyone in here is used up or cracked out and I needed something different. Something I can break and mold. He’s going to be so perfect when I finish with him. The perfect little doll.” He sighed, almost dreamily. “He’s got five in here, for sure, if he was busted with crack. Had to of been. They would have let him off if it was just a bit of weed.” He was forced to stop debating it when Argyle was handing over the paper. It was a list of inmates he or his henchmen to collect from. He shoved it in his pocket before nodding his head. “See ya in a bit, amigo.”

***

“This is Argyle and his boy, Byers,” Billy nodded at the men already sat at their table. “Boys, this is Harrington.” Argyle was one of the only men in the prison that used his first name and was still respected amongst the prisoners, and it was all because of the people he knew on the outside. He could get anyone anything they wanted for the right price.

“What’s up, dude? Holding up?” Argyle asked as the two men sat across from them. Almost immediately, Billy was taking Steve’s tray from him. He took the meat and the bread off it and added it to his own before putting it back down in front of Steve.

Steve stared blankly at the now mostly empty tray. He had no plans of eating anything, there wasn’t even the tiniest touch of appetite within him, but he knew if he was going to be here awhile, he was going to need strength. And he wasn’t going to get it from the tiniest bit that Billy hadn’t taken off him. Still, he didn’t say anything. No words would form in his mouth. He took a glance towards the guards littering the cafeteria, wondering if they were supposed to intervene and stop any of the inmates from stealing food from one another.

If they were, they clearly didn’t care. They were talking amongst themselves, laughing like they were chatting to each other on a bar on a Friday night instead of being in a prison’s cafeteria.

“Problem?” Billy had been watching Steve just as he’d been watching the officers. “Don’t even think about it. You ever nark, and you’re dead. I don’t care how pretty you are.” His voice was low, a clear threat, and Steve dropped his gaze to the tray before him. “The sooner you realize we make our own laws in here, Harrington, the better. You follow my rules. Not theirs. The next time I catch you looking at them, you’re in deep shit. Got that?” “Oh, someone’s in trouble,” Argyle’s voice was a sing-song and he and Byers started to crack up. Steve didn’t get what was so funny, but it was incredibly obvious that the two men were higher than the clouds in the sky and he could blame it on that.

In some ways, it felt like he was in high school again. There was a different group at each table, some snapping at the tables beside them to shut the fuck up. It was clear there were different levels of popularity; there were the people on the top of the food chain, and others right at the bottom.

At Hawkins High, he’d been at the top. Here, he was amongst the lowest of the low. It was a scary realization.

“Don’t sweat it, man,” This time it was Byers speaking, and Steve glanced over at him. He didn’t give off intimidating vibes and he almost looked worn out. “It takes a while to get used to everything in here. I definitely made more than enough mistakes before I caught on, and you will too.” He glanced to Billy then. “Don’t go too hard on him.”

“Don’t go too hard on him?” Billy swallowed and then licked his lips. It was one big game to him, and he was so ready to play. “If I go easy on him, you gonna let me have a go with you, huh? Gonna take the pain for your new best buddy?”

Jonathan quieted and gave Steve the quickest apologetic look that he could get away with. He knew what he was in for and what games Billy, like the rest of the inmates, liked to play. People like Billy were the cat, and he and Steve were the mice. They’d never be able to make their way up the totem pole that was the prison because of how soft and gentle their nature was.

But it wasn’t always bad.

There were hard moments, painful moments, moments where death seemed more alluring than living, but there were good moments, too. There were the picnics on the cell floor in the middle of the night, there were the poker and card game tournaments in the common room, there were all the men sharing an equal love of music and blasting the radio on Friday nights when the guards were bored and desperate to be anywhere that wasn’t their workplace, and there were the gentle touches and whispers in the dark amongst cellmates that knew what it was like to have alcoholic fathers and absent mothers.

It was hard to tell if Billy was going to be solely destructive when it came to his new bunkie, or if he’d treat him with kindness when no one was looking. Jonathan, at least, liked to think there were redeeming qualities in Hargrove; he wasn’t entirely evil. He was intimidating, he could be vicious, but he never forgot a birthday and would always split a package of candies amongst the three of them. The one time Jonathan had been cornered in the shower block by an entitled man, Billy had pulled him out and proceeded to beat the living shit out of the inmate that had gotten too close. He’d been willing to be locked up in solitary confinement for weeks in order to ensure his friend’s safety.

If he was only one thing, it was loyal. When he cared, even if he wouldn’t admit it, he cared hard.

Argyle and Billy launched into a conversation about the rest of the new inmates, trying to guess why they were incarcerated just by the look of them, and Jonathan was free to look over at Steve for a second longer. The man looked about ready to fall into a million pieces. “You should eat,” He whispered to him. “You’re going to need the energy for later.”

#billy hargrove #harringrove #harringrove fic #billy x steve #harringrove fanfiction #not tagging this with anything to do with solely steve or argyle bcus i'm afraid of the antis #just gonna stay in the billy and harringrove tags where it's safe #my writing

[couldntbedamned]

Feels So Right, Can’t Be Wrong - Blue Salvia

Summary:

The setting: Sanctum General Hospital in Sanctum Heights, New Amsterdam

Starring: Sharon Carter - former Central Security Bureau operative, Selecting Spouse in a horrifically failed Bureau of Civic Spousal Selections marriage, patient AND Anthony Edward "Tony" Stark - owner and CEO of Stark Industries, Futurist determined to rebuild a world his father built weapons to destroy, love interest

With Appearances by: Nurse Wong, Orderly Rintrah, and Billy the Admin

And Featuring Doctor Stephen Strange as "the Surgeon"

Or, "Five Dates Tony and Sharon Had in Her Hospital Room and One They Had After She Was Discharged"

AO3 Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Marriage of Convenience, Past Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, Getting to Know Each Other, Dating, Past Domestic Violence, 5 Times, Annoyed Stephen Strange, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Sharon Carter Deserves the World

Author’s Note: So this kind of just popped up as I was kicking around thoughts of just how Tony and Sharon met and eventually fell in love as mentioned in my fic Goodbye Grey Sky, Hello Blue, so this takes place well before the events of and can be read independently of that story.

------

Blue Salvia

------

Sharon had never been so happy to finish physical therapy in her life.

"You're a sadist," she told Rintrah as he handed her a towel so she could wipe away the sweat.

The large man didn't deny it. "You're making progress."

"Doesn't feel like it," she lamented. Her mile used to be six minutes and twenty-two seconds. Now she doubted she'd be able to run a mile for a few months, if walking a moderate incline on the treadmill was this hard.

"You don't see it because you judge yourself more harshly than anyone else," Rintrah said. "But I've seen the progress you've made since you were cleared for PT. Just be patient."

She supposed he was right. And it wasn't like she had an SO breathing down her neck like she had when in the CSB. Lord, Fury had been a nightmare but Hand? Hand had been so much worse.

"We'll finish up with some foam rolling and stretching and then I'll get you back up to your room, okay?"

Sharon groaned but knew there was nothing she could do but go along with the Orderly's plans.

The last thing she wanted was for Rintrah or Wong to decide she wasn't up for another date night in her room with Tony.

God, she was going to have another date with Tony Stark! What was her life?

"Pizza tonight? My treat."

Tony looked over at Stephen. "Can't. I have plans for dinner, I'm afraid."

Stephen raised a brow. "Oh?"

"Yes, indeed." He checked his watch, an elegant Kang model. "In fact, I have to go if I don't want to be late." He studied the kitchen. "We'll start installing the appliances tomorrow."

"I really do appreciate this, Tony."

Tony waved Stephen off. "Hey, even if you weren't paying me I'd be happy to help. Not as happy, of course. Maybe like, twelve percent less happy. Anyways, I have to go get ready."

"What's her name?" Stephen asked with a knowing smirk.

Tony made a gesture of zipping his lips. "A gentleman doesn't tell."

Stephen scoffed. "Since when are you a gentleman?"

"Bye now!"

As he hastened to his rented Alfa Romeo - which looked decidedly out place among the various Buicks and Lincolns - he checked his mobile to ensure his "out of office" status had gone through. The last thing he wanted was for work to interrupt his date.

He'd been looking forward to it since before he even left the hospital the previous night.

Sharon was... she was special. He liked her humor and appreciated her biting wit. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind and if there was something she didn't want to discuss, she kindly but firmly let him know. That was refreshing to a man like him.

He'd started strong the previous night with Italian. He hoped Mediterranean would be just as successful.

Sharon rolled her eyes but let Tony blindfold her so he could "get the mood right."

When he took the blindfold off, the make-shift dinner table was back and he'd set up another vase, this time with a single Blue Salvia.

"Any guesses as to the cuisine we're having tonight?" Tony asked.

"French?" she tried. "I'll just go ahead and tell you I'm not eating snails."

Tony laughed. "It's not French, no, and I'll definitely keep that in mind."

He lifted up the dome on her plate to reveal the dish: triangles of spanakopita. She could smell the feta, garlic, and spinach and her mouth began to water.

"Mediterranean. I am again, impressed. I didn't think there was a place in town."

"There's not," Tony confirmed. "But, I wanted the best and it was worth having dinner catered from Baxterville."

"So," Tony said as they ate their appetizers, along with lamb and rice wrapped in grape leaves and a small assortment of olives. "Ask away."

Sharon took a minute to savor the explosion of garlicky spinach, creamy feta, and flaky buttery phyllo dough before swallowing. "Another bold move," she teased.

"Like I've said, fortune favors the bold."

"If you weren't head of Stark Industries, what would you do with your life?"

His brows raised. "That's a good question," he said. He ate a few triangles of the spanakopita as he thought about his answer. "I'd probably still want to be an engineer. I love building and fixing things. The money that comes with SI is just a bonus."

"You have some impressive creations," Sharon said. "The energy saving appliances are getting rave reviews, as do the medical devices you've started designing and testing."

"I just felt like I had to do something," Tony admitted. "Howard - Dad - spent his whole damn life building bigger, more lethal weapons. The least I can do is try and create things to help fix that he's destroyed."

"That's a noble cause, even if it's not your responsibility."

"It might not be my responsibility, but I benefitted from his warmongering so I might as well work against that."

The next course was moussaka - "with lamb, because again, I prefer the best" - with a medley of roasted yellow squash, zucchini, and colorful bell peppers as a side.

"Someone's making sure I get my vegetables," Sharon said. "Good call."

"I may or may not have been threatened with bodily harm by Nurse Wong if I didn't provide adequate nutrition," Tony said. "I don't like my chances going up against that man."

"You wouldn't stand a chance," Sharon confirmed. The roasted vegetables were incredible. "Orderly Rintrah's almost as fierce. My old SO could have learned a thing or two from Wong and Rintrah."

"How did PT go today?"

"I was told it went well, but I'm impatient so I don't really see it." She couldn't help but let out a small moan as she tasted the moussaka. It was amazing and perfectly seasoned. "I'm not used to being so inactive. Even when I was married I still went for runs and worked out."

"Even with the bruising?" Tony asked quietly.

"I wore long-sleeves and jogging pants when I went outside," she admitted. "I had a small collection of weights in the spare bedroom where I started sleeping and I'd do body-weight exercises."

"I can't tell you how sorry I am that you went through that," Tony said. "I hate that there was nothing you could do to defend yourself."

"In a way the running was a defense," Sharon said. "As was sleeping in the spare bedroom. It locked, you see." She ate some more. "Steve didn't like that; he thought that locked doors made a home dishonest but there wasn't much he could do about it."

"Did he ever try to break in?"

"The door was reinforced," Sharon said in answer. "All of the doors were. I had them all installed when I bought that house, since old habits die hard."

"I'm sorry to bring it all up," Tony said. "Well, you brought it up, technically, but I didn't change the subject and that's on me." He motioned to the vegetables. "These are so good."

"They are," she agreed.

Conversation turned lighter as they finished their entrees and Sharon eyed the dome-covered desert dishes expectantly.

"How's our Surgeon's kitchen coming along?"

"Oh, the wiring is all done. We'll start installing appliances tomorrow."

"He still doesn't know about this, right?"

Tony winced. "I'm doing my best to keep this hush-hush. I'm pretty sure Wong and Rintrah roped in his admin to keep it under wraps."

Sharon laughed. "Look at you, planning a stealth operation."

"You're worth it," he said.

She blushed furiously at that, inwardly astonished. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so affected. Even when she'd had her initial meetings with Steve, who'd at first been so sweet and earnest, she'd been somewhat aloof.

Dessert was a small plate with a sampler trio of sokolatopita, loukoumades, and baklava. Normally a chocolate gal, Sharon found herself preferring the loukoumades - tiny fried balls of dough dripping with honey. It was all delicious but the loukoumades was in a class all its own.

"Any ideas on what radio show to listen to?" Tony asked as he cleaned up and pushed the cart and dishes outside. "Or would you prefer something else?"

Sharon thought. "Would you think I'm a dreadful bore if I suggested listening to The Lawrence Welk Radio Hour?"

"Definitely not," Tony said with a smile. "One of my friends, Rhodey, is a huge fan. I've listened to that show many a time."

"Then tune the radio to Station KPBS," Sharon urged. "We should be able to catch the opening song."

Like the night before they sat close to the radio and when Tony took her hand in his, it felt so natural her heart skipped a beat.

"Maybe one day we can dance to this music," Sharon mused when a dreamy ballad played, complemented by a harp and oboe. "I've always loved dancing."

"One day," Tony agreed, enjoying the music but enjoying his evening with her so much more.

This time before he left, he added the blue salvia to the vase on her nightstand with the yellow tulip and took the vase with him, but not before again pressing a kiss to her hand.

"I had a wonderful evening," he told her.

"I did too," Sharon said as he helped her to bed. "Tony, this was so nice."

Wong knocked on the door and gave Tony a pointed look. He watched carefully as Tony took his remaining gear and left.

"He was wonderful, really," Sharon told Wong. "You don't have to worry about him, I promise."

"It's you I worry about," Wong said as he dispensed her medication. "I don't want to see you get hurt."

"And that means more to me than you know," she assured him, taking her pills. "You're pretty wonderful yourself."

Wong smiled, told her she wasn't getting out of tomorrow's physical therapy, and wished her a good night.

Sharon snuggled back into the hospital bed. If her feet slightly swayed in the count of a waltz, that was her business. She dreamed of dancing and twirling around in Tony's arms.

______

Author's Notes (again): Blue Salvia - connected to healing; represents wisdom, a long life and good health. It's common for those recovering from an ailment to receive this plant.

Also, some of my favorite memories of my grandparents are times I sat with them some evenings while the Lawrence Welk Show reruns played on PBS. I figured this AU had to have something similar for a radio show.

#couldntbedamned fic #iron 13 #tony stark x sharon carter #sharon carter x tony stark #1950s modern fusion au #1950s au #tony stark #sharon carter

[youshouldhavepaidattentiondad]

Crushes and Coming Out

Written for @needybeast and @whotfamitho because they both drew bi Sweetbers

Ao3

“It’s spring, it shouldn’t be this hot,” Barry complains as they file out of the dugout after practice wraps up.

Sam silently agrees with him. Carrying his bat across his shoulders, he asks, “Anybody wanna go out for ice cream after we hit the showers? My treat.”

A chorus of agreements rings out amongst the group. Grinning, Sam turns to double check with Duke, only for his voice to catch in his throat.

Duke’s head tilts back as he pours the rest of his bottle of water on his head. Sam could have dealt with that if Duke was still wearing a shirt. Instead, he watches droplets of water race down Duke’s tanned, toned chest.

“You okay, Sweets?” Duke’s twangy drawl does something to Sam that he can’t put in words. He finally raises his eyes to meet Duke’s bright hazel ones, watches him brush his damp, dark curls off his forehead.

Sam can’t remember how to fucking breathe. 

Everyone else has already trudged ahead, muttering and swearing about how hot it is. Duke stops beside Sam, reaching out a hand to shake his shoulder gently.

The closeness, the proximity, the fucking electricity that shoots through him finally breaks Sam out of his reverie. Laughing awkwardly, Sam steps back.

That had been the first moment Sam realized he wasn’t as straight as he thought. He didn’t dare tell a soul though. Why did it matter? He had a girlfriend, it’s not like he was going to take Duke Keane to prom instead of Charlotte (though when he saw Duke in his tux, he half-wished he had). 

It didn’t help that the following Sunday, he had agreed to go to church with Charlotte and her parents. It had been the most uncomfortable hour, shifting on the pew as the pastor preached about the sin of sodomy from behind the pulpit. Sam still remembers the way the pastor said homosexual, as if it carried every ounce of fire and brimstone in hell. Seared into his brain, he vowed never to tell another soul.

It doesn’t matter.

Yet, here he is twenty years later, recently divorced, with an entire cache of men he’s found attractive stashed away in the depths of his mind.

Tonight, he’s sitting at the Birdhouse with his girlfriend, smiling slightly in amusement at the sight of her nails. “Why don’t they match?”

“What do you mean?” Zoey wiggles her fingers. The pink, purple, and blue polish glints in the low light of the bar. “Of course they match. It’s the colors of the bi pride flag.”

Sam’s entire body tenses at that. “... you’re bi?”

“Don’t tell me you’re a homophobe. That would put a bit of a damper on our relationship,” Zoey quips. Still, her voice shakes slightly.

Immediately, Sam reaches out for her hand and squeezes it. “No! No, no, no. It’s okay. More than actually.” He smiles kindly at her. Before he can continue to reassure her, a familiar, drawling tone catches his ear.

“Well if it isn’t Sam Sweetly!”

A warm, broad hand claps him on the shoulder. shoulder. Sam looks up into the familiar warm hazel eyes of Duke Keane. God, he gets more and more handsome every time Sam sees him. He smiles and maybe even leans into the touch a bit. “What’s goin’ on, Keane?” He asks.

Zoey frowns in confusion as Sam scoots over on his side of the booth to let the man sit next to him.

“Glad to see you’re not wearing those stupid sunglasses all the time anymore, Sweets,” Duke teases, bumping his shoulder against Sam’s good naturedly. He notices Zoey and extends a hand for her to shake. “Douglas Keane, nice to meet you.”

“Please,” Sam snorts as the two of them shake hands. “No one calls you Douglas except your ma. How is she, by the way?”

As they catch up, Sam catches a glimmer in Zoey’s eyes that evolves into a full fledged twinkle. When Duke finally leaves their booth, with Sam casting a discreet look after him, Zoey leans forward. “You have the hots for him,” she says with a cat-like grin.

Sputtering, Sam stares at her. “Wha- No, are you- I’m not gay!”

“Didn’t say you were,” Zoey says with a shrug. “And I have some pretty hard evidence that you’re not.” She snickers as he flushes at the innuendo. “But there’s no heterosexual explanation for the hearts that replaced your pupils while you were talking to Mr. Keane.”

Unsure what to say, Sam takes a long pull from his beer. Then another. Zoey doesn’t press, instead just waits patiently. “I, uh… I’ve thought Duke was cute since high school. I was dating Charlotte though, so nothing ever happened.” He shrugs.

“...is he the only guy you’ve ever thought was attractive?”

Unbidden, his mind starts listing off all the men he’s found attractive: Bill Woodward, Gerald Monroe, Duke Keane, several men he’s only seen in passing, Ted fucking Spankoffski for whatever fucking reason. Biting his lip, he shakes his head. “But I-”

“Hey,” Zoey interrupts him gently. She wiggles her nails again. “You don’t have to put a label on it. Now or ever. If you don’t ever want to be ‘out’ that’s okay. I love you.”

At her words, he relaxes. “I love you too.” He glances over at Duke sitting at the bar and sighs. “I think bisexual is a pretty good description.”

“I agree.” Zoey raises her glass of screwdriver. “Happy coming out, babe.”

#sweetbers #bisexual #sam sweetly #zoey chambers #duke keane #barry swift #tgwdlm #hatchetfield universe #black friday #nightmare time #starkid #back to the lab again #you are fren #let's be honest #who didn't have a crush on duke keane in high school

[blazewatergem]

Sweet Story - Trick or Treat

“Just a little longer, Bella baby, I gotta get it right.”

Cleona chuckles at the whine Bella gives out, and patiently waits until the toddler is no longer puffing her cheeks to continue putting on her makeup.

It’s Halloween night, and already the camp has done all the greatest hits - pumpkin carving, decorating, and baking Eleanor’s famous pumpkin swirl cinnamon rolls.

They even had breakfast outside by the lakeshore, enjoying the crisp air as Fall’s last stronghold fell to winter’s army.

Now, though, it was time to go out and get some candy. Which is why Cleona was currently doing Bella’s makeup, listening as the others got ready outside the bathroom.

“Kitty, why can’t you come with us?” Bella asks, and while she still has a pout on her face the rest of the makeup goes on smoothly.

“I can’t wear my Glamore for that long, little queen.” Cleona is careful when planting a kiss on her forehead, before setting the tiara on it, “It doesn’t work as well at night, and only in emergencies. Besides, you’ll be out with Charlie, Alex, Phil and the Marksman.”

That sure is a deeply dramatic sigh from a six year old, and Bella is happy to demonstrate such an act.

“Oooookkkkkkk.” She drones out, but is back to smiling soon enough.

“Think I’ll fill up my pail?”

“Totally, bumblebee.”

🎃

Cleona wanted to laugh at seeing everyone’s costumes. As much as she has always wanted to go out trick or treating - her body wouldn’t let her, she couldn’t fake anything, not like the others - there was something nice about staying home.

Bella was dressed up as a Queen Bee - a frilly, Victorian dress and crown on her brow with swiped Tinker Bell wings - while Alex was her Valkyrie guardian, complete with an armored dress, because Alex never does things in halves.

Sabella had instead decided to turn in early - the drop in heat was making her more and more tired, draining her energy like a slow leak in a boat.

Charlie…

There was no easy way to describe what Charlie was dressed up as. He was wearing his human disguise, which looked so fake he could pass off as wearing a costume. Tonight was one of the few nights he could pass it off instead of freaking others out.

Cleona always thought he looked like he was wearing someone’s skin - a mannequin styled creature, puppeteering itself - but hey, that works on Halloween.

The Marksman - an adult who no one has ever seen or properly heard - was wearing his cloak and mask like always. No big surprise.

Finally, Phil was dressed up as a game show host. He was a middle aged, kindly blond man with a sweet smile.

Everyone called him Old Man. No exceptions.

As she waved the group off, watching them head into the truck and off to neighborhoods beyond…

Cleona walks back into the camp boundaries, out into the forest, and runs.

🎃

Later, when she returns picking leaves out of her hair and burrs in her fur, Cleona sees the truck pulling in and smiles. No, grins. She loves a lot of stuff about Halloween —

But this has to be the best part.

Bella barely pauses when the truck door swings open, jumping out and sprinting for the front door, even tugging on it a couple of times before turning back and shouting wordlessly for Phil. He has to shut off the truck before joining her, letting Alex and Charlie out of the back seat.

They join Cleona in watching, Charlie slowly letting his human-suit plop off and Alex with his arms crossed, smirking.

“Old man is about to lose so much.”

“Oh, yeah? Good trick or treat night then, huh?”

“Hell yeah. You got a stick in your hair by the way.”

“Oh, dammit.”

🎃

The Halloween ritual between Phil and Bella goes as follows; After a long night of trick or treating, Bella brings her bag into the kitchen to be checked out. The candy is dumped onto the countertop, and Phil helps her sort through it.

The candy goes into three piles. One pile is for anything labeled King Size, or is considerably large enough to count as - Phil likes to eyeball it, Bella’s the stickler on these rules.

The second pile is any candy that is sugar free. This candy will be set off to the side, and not be counted.

The third pile is…everything else. The Reese’s, the Hershey’s, the Kit-Kats and Snickers. The gumdrops, the lollipops, the knock-offs and strangers.

Anything with sugar, really. Which, for the most part, Bella couldn’t eat without getting sick. It used to be such an awful thing, especially around holidays like Halloween. It wasn’t her fault, just part of her bee-like biology.

So, he came up with an idea. Which leads to the next part of the ritual, where Phil kindly puts all the pile three candy back into Bella’s bag, and sets it on a kitchen scale bought just for this.

He laughs, “Oh, dear, Bella, how’d you get this to…roughly ten pounds, love?”

She crosses her arms and smirks, a look he recognizes from none other than the golden-winged teen outside, “I got it myself!”

He dutifully doesn’t admit to seeing Alex and Charlie trying to shove their candy into Bella’s bag, or hearing her giggle at their exaggerated acting the entire way home.

“Well, then. That’s ten pounds of regular candy, plus…oh, look at that, five king sized candy bars. Look at that, buzzy baby, I think that’s more than last year!”

And thus, as Phil pats the girl on the head, he realizes with a sigh that - Yep.

She definitely likes this system just a bit more than she should.

🎃

The three teens look up, seeing the triumphant look on Bella’s face, and laugh when she holds one tiny child fist up with glee.

“I GOT TWENTY DOLLARS!”

#talking fire #surefire camp universe #Bella goes trick or treating! #love this one haha #happy halloween