#we’ve never respected bob in this house and never will

[sciderman]

I feel like Karan Soni just should've been a Francis henchman Wade would kidnap, call him Bob and make him tell Wade everything about Francis, his plans and operations, he even could drive him around. It wouldn't be perfect but imo it'd be better than the disrespect Bob got in Deadpool 1.

i think the bob scene in deadpool 1 is hilarious and also do not know why you think bob is deserving of any kind of respect

#we’ve never respected bob in this house and never will #sci speaks #sorry anon . i love the bob scene. #you’re wrong about this. disagree wholeheartedly. #I think honestly it would be more disrespectful to have bob and it not actually be bob. #bad take anon. #also I do think bob has to be white. I think it’s important that he is. #don’t make me elaborate. but he is nazi coded after all. #I know they didn’t use hydra in deadpool movie. and that is good. #think this is honest to god the best way to go about adapting bob without hydra. #if karan soni were bob it would be a very. very weird flex. #BOB IS NAZI CODED. I don’t trust those of you who are electing to ignore that. #it is the whole reason why it is okay to disrespect him. he is literally there to be disrespected.

[hellotherekenobi]

Smile for the Cameras.

Summary: you’ve been dating Eddie Munson for a while now, happily in secret so that the two of you can have some privacy, but now you want him to meet the family and it turns out they have a secret of their own.

A/N: this one goes out to my enabler @megmeg-chan but this time I have wrapped it up in a nice bow and delicately place it on your doorstep before knocking and running down the driveway like a madman.

Word Count: 7k

CW/TW: Byers!Reader/fem!Reader; Bob lives AU; multiple POV; mentions of drugs; season four, volume two didn’t happen.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Here’s the thing—plain and simple—there aren’t a lot of good guys in Hawkins. Sure, there are your brothers, Will and Jonathan, but they’re family. There are also Will’s friends who, admittedly, are a lot of fun. Oh, and Steve... he’s a good guy, too...

Well. All right. There are a few nice guys in Hawkins, but they aren’t the majority. You’re happy to know that your mother has herself a good guy who really cares about her but, as your brothers will agree, you knew he was the best of the best from the moment you first met him.

Bob immediately hit it off with Will, which you’ve always been grateful for. After so many bad things have happened in Hawkins, it’s about time your brother gets some normality back in his life. Wholesome normality, too. Jonathan was a little more standoffish but he caved in pretty quickly when Bob mentioned how much he likes The Clash.

You, being the eldest, and also the closest with your mom, were ready to tear him to shreds if he so much as belittled her, but he was making you laugh within five minutes and offering a ride out to Scoops for ice cream so, yeah, you liked him from the start.

Now, you get to call him your dad.

Not all children get to see their parents get married, and you’re happy to be one of the few. Jonathan bought a new camera for the day and all of the pictures were either put into a scrapbook or framed around the house, which Will helped out with glee.

There’s a big one in the living room of the five of you, all wide smiles and arms around each other. Looking at that picture makes this place feel like home.

It’s as much of a benefit to your mother as it is to your brothers. You as well. Lonnie was a real jerk. It didn’t take a scientist to figure that out. He was hardly around and that was always bad for the boys, seeing as they grew up without a positive father figure. You’ve inherited some of your mom’s rage, so you never played the role of respectful daughter to Lonnie.

When he left, you thought ‘good riddance.’ When you saw how much it hurt your mom and your brothers, you thought of how easy it might be to get away with murder.

With Bob, you only think about how happy he makes everyone. It’s a big contrast and something your family had to warm up to, but he’s so naturally caring that it didn’t take too long.

The only thing that you’re still struggling to adapt to is Bob’s tech-savvy side. He works at Radio Shack and, you’ll admit, at first you didn’t think he’d be as good of a technician as he is, but every now and then he’ll bring work home and you get to see him tinker away at things with your own eyes.

All of that stuff goes over your head. About the only thing you know when it comes to electronics is the switch for the television set and what button to press to delete the footage Jonathan sneakily records with his video camera when you’re a groggy mess in the morning just trying to brush your teeth.

The day Bob put cameras up at the house, you knew you were screwed.

“It’s so we can catch the burglars,” he said, halfway up a ladder and screwing a dome into the side of the house.

The only burglary that’s happened here was from the drunk guy who nabbed the electric mixer during the garage sale, and your mom chased him down the driveway with Jonathan’s old baseball bat.

“We’ve got locks,” you said.

He had chuckled and went off on a tech spiel about how ‘we’re diving into a new age,’ and what exactly the cameras could do but, if you’re honest, you weren’t paying attention much to the specifics of it all. The minute Bob talks shop, you hear white noise.

Granted, he always tries to explain things in simple terms for you and for that you’re thankful. He simply continues to prove how much of a good guy he is.

But you’ve got a good guy, too, and you think he’s pretty fantastic. Not that many people will agree with you but, to each of them, you think that they’ll never know just how fantastic Eddie Munson is. They’re missing out big time.

Your family is missing out, too, since you’ve been keeping your relationship with him a secret. The thing is, you like having something for yourself. Growing up with two younger brothers in a small town doesn’t give you a lot of privacy.

You’ve shared one bathroom your whole life. You take the smaller portion for dinner (when your mom’s not looking.) You cancel plans to look after Will on late nights. So, yeah, you’re going to have something for yourself for a change and you’re going to enjoy it.

In so many words...

The first time Eddie tapped on your bedroom window, you opened it with an infernal glare that would put the name ‘Hellfire’ to shame, berating him for waking you up and for being at your house in the first place. Does he not understand the meaning of a secret relationship?

But he flashed you a toothy grin, said he missed you, and when he gave you those damn dark brown puppy dog eyes, you had begrudgingly let him in. For. One. Night. Only. Which turned into two, then three, then five, then... well, you’ve lost count at this point.

The thing you hadn’t realized at the start is how clingy Eddie is. He’s got to be around you three times a day like he’s your breakfast, lunch, and dinner. When he laid his head in your lap on the third night he snuck in through your bedroom window and practically sobbed when you carded your fingers through his hair, you knew that the sweet Eddie Munson is touch-starved.

So—with the backbone of a chocolate éclair—you let Eddie stay the night pretty often. He rocks up at the same time, so, after a while, you don’t wait for the tap on the window, you just keep it open and hug him tight when he’s got his footing. Then you talk with each other until one of you falls asleep, waking up the next morning with tangled limbs and that gorgeous, messy bed hair that he’s never understood why you like so much.

It baffles you that he doesn’t realize just how pretty he is. Anytime you tell him, he jokingly asks if you’re only with him because of his looks, and you tell him every time that you’re with him because of who he is. But, also, because he’s too handsome to resist.

If you didn’t want to hold onto this secrecy for a little bit longer, you’d be parading him throughout the streets. ‘Look at my boyfriend. Look at how well my boyfriend plays the guitar. Look at how my boyfriend looks at me.’ He’s so not ready for that.

But the two of you can’t hide forever and you know it, even more, when he’s resting against the headboard of your bed, finger twirling a strand of his hair as he thinks in silence. He always scrunches his nose up when he’s deep in thought and it’s the cutest thing.

Seriously, how is it fair that he can be both adorable and attractive?

“Stop that,” you say, reaching over to tap the finger in his hair. “You’ll grow bald.”

He smiles, bringing his hand down to instead rest on your arm which is wrapped around him.

“What are you thinking about?”

“What?” He chuckles.

“You get this adorable crease right here—” you poke between his eyebrows, “when you think too hard.”

Eddie smiles. “You stare at me that much?”

“With a face like yours, yeah,”

Quiet moments like these have always been your favorite, whether or not that’s in your bedroom. When you can be with Eddie, just the two of you, everything else stands still.

You’ve been to his trailer plenty of times and you’ve met Wayne on many occasions as well. He’s been very supportive of your relationship with Eddie, having once said that he’s glad Eddie has someone who can ‘deal with his quirks.’ Truthfully, you admire those quirks of his.

When Eddie’s smile turns mischievous, you already know what he’s going to do before he does it. Yet, you’re still not quick enough to stop him from tickling you and burying his face in your neck, blowing raspberries on your skin.

You let out a short squeak, slapping his arm and pushing him off of you when you feel his lips curl against your neck.

“Stop!” You try to whisper but can’t help from laughing. “We’ve got to be—”

“Quiet, I know,” he nods, his smile an inch smaller.

It’s not the ideal relationship, you know that, having to hide all the time. The veil will lift sooner or later. It just turns out that he’s wanted it sooner since that fault in his smile can only mean one thing.

“I’m going to tell them soon,” you say. “I’m just figuring out how.”

“Well,” he absentmindedly traces circles on your skin. “I was actually wondering if you could ask your dad something for me,”

“Oh?”

“I only get paid so much for my gigs and I’m kinda running on empty right now, so I was hoping your dad would have a spot free at his job?”

“You wanna work with my dad?” You ask, sitting up.

He nods his head, a crease again at his forehead. “I know a thing or two about fixing things and, I mean, Radio Shack ain’t that bad a place to work in. At least, until I can find something stable.”

“Like he wouldn’t offer you full-time right off the bat,” you chuckle, playfully hitting his arm.

“Well, I don’t know,” he beams.

You tap your finger against your chin, feigning consideration, then dip forward to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“I think that’s a great idea,” you say.

“Yeah?” He smiles.

“Yeah, and maybe you could...” you shrug your shoulders, “come for dinner. Get to know him a bit.”

Eddie lights up, his smile warm and soft. “I’d love that,”

Truly, there’s nothing you’d love more than for your parents to finally meet your boyfriend and, hopefully, approve of him. You don’t have any worries that they’ll kick him out, but you can’t help but feel like something will go wrong.

Everything will be okay as long as you don’t mention that you’ve been sneaking Eddie in through the window almost every night. After all, how would they ever know unless you say something?

─────── ⋯ ───────

Sometimes, this house feels like chaos.

It’s one thing to be late for school—and work—but it’s another thing for the power to be out, so no one is ready to leave. Joyce had woken up to the neighbor’s car backfiring and when she saw the alarm clock on her bedside table flashing at her, she had hit a sleepy Bob on the chest and scrambled out of bed.

After grabbing whatever is closest to dress herself with, she’s barrelling down the hallway, slapping a hand onto each door she passes, swinging it open, and calling inside for her kids to wake up. But when she reaches your door, she finds that it’s locked.

“Hey,” she hits the door once, “come on, we’re late.”

She’s happy to hear a ‘be right there!’ from inside the room, so she spins around and tucks in Jonathan’s shirt when he practically trips through his doorway and then gives Will a kiss on the cheek when he steps out of his room.

Bob’s struggling to get his tie on straight when Joyce walks into the living room and she gives him a sympathetic smile, reaching out to tighten it for him.

“How do you still manage to look so beautiful when you’ve just woken up?” He asks, grinning ear to ear.

“Oh, Bob,” Joyce smiles, flattening his shirt collar.

“I can drive the kids to school,”

“No, that’s okay. I can do it.”

“I can drive them on my way to work. It’ll be easier. Plus, I get to spend some time with them.”

It never amazes Joyce how after three years, Bob still wants to be as close to her kids as possible. The truly beautiful thing about that is how they want to be just as close to him as well.

“It’ll be great,” he smiles, giving her a quick kiss and scooping the car keys off of the coffee table.

He jingles them in his hand as he calls out to the family that he’ll be their driver for the morning, patting Will on the back who’s been scooping papers and books into his backpack.

“Here, mom,” Jonathan says beside Joyce, handing her an overspilling mug of coffee.

“Oh, Jonathan, thank you,” she smiles, pulling him to her to plant a big kiss on his cheek.

He chuckles, craning his face away from her with a loud ‘mom!’ which she laughs at. When he’s jogging over to the front door, another one of Joyce’s kids creeps up beside her and she tries not to spill even more coffee onto the floor.

“Hey, Jonathan!” You call and he spins around. “I’m taking the car this morning, okay?”

“No, I’m driving,” Bob smiles, jingling the car keys again. “I’ll finish an hour early and pick you up from work.”

Jonathan snickers. “You can’t always be the driver,”

“Hey,” you put your hands on your hips. “I bought that car, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just go,”

Being a big family of five, there are only three cars shared between you all. Joyce has her car, Bob has his, and you had bought a car in your senior year of high school which was passed down onto Jonathan after you graduated, now that he’s in his senior year.

Every so often, driving arrangements change. Sometimes Joyce will drive everyone, sometimes you would take the boys to school, and sometimes Bob will drive the whole lot. Exactly what he’s doing this morning. Good timing, too, as Joyce has plans in the afternoon.

The great thing, which is as much of a relief as it is appreciated, is how no one complains. The only time Joyce has ever heard an argument about who gets the car you bought is when Jonathan has a date with Nancy and you have other plans. But fights never get out of hand around here, thankfully.

“Look at you,” Joyce tsks, placing a hand on your cheek. “Did you not get any sleep last night?”

“Oh, yeah,” you say, rubbing your eye with the back of your hand. “I guess work is just wearing me out.”

“Maybe you should call in sick?”

“Next time,” you smile.

She rubs your back, giving you that motherly smile she knows she’s adopted over the years.

When Will finally has his backpack sorted, he calls out a goodbye and races over to Jonathan who gives him a one-armed hug, walking out of the door together. Another relief, knowing that everyone is so close with each other. Even more so because of all of the strange things going on in Hawkins.

“Hey, mom, I want to ask you something,” you say, stepping in front of her.

“Okay,” she looks down at her watch. “Just don’t be too late.”

“I won’t. The thing is... I’ve been seeing this guy and I was wondering if maybe he could come over for dinner so that everyone can meet him?”

The mug almost slips from Joyce’s hands when you say that and she reminds herself to act calm.

“Huh?” She speaks, shrugging a shoulder and putting on a casual face. “Oh, yeah. That’s fine. Whatever you want, sweetie.”

“You sure?”

The look you give her makes Joyce thinks she’s caught but she keeps playing it cool, hoping that you won’t poke around. You’ve never been one to let things go easily. She supposes you get that from her.

“Of course. I’d love to meet him.”

“Great, me too,” you smile, giving her a quick hug.

With a goodbye, you’re out the door where Bob is still waiting, sending Joyce a wink which she nods to and then he’s gone.

Honestly, Joyce already knows you have a boyfriend. There isn’t a lot that hides under her nose, especially in her home, but she’s got to give credit where credit is due and thank Bob for installing all those cameras around the house.

It’s how they found out in the first place. Bob was in his study, pouring over all the security footage like he does every night after work. The kids were either watching TV or in bed—which you were, seeing as you were so eager to go to sleep.

He waved her in with a ‘Joyce, honeybun, I think you need to see this,’ when she came to ask if he wanted anything, and she stood beside him as he rewinded the footage and pointed at the figure creeping along the back of the house.

“Is that a burglar?” She gasped, leaning forward to squint at the screen as if she could make out who it was.

“I don’t think so,”

“Why is he climbing in our window?”

“Honey, that is our daughter’s window,”

It only took her three seconds of scrunching up her eyes at Bob who gave her a knowing look for her to understand what was going on, all the dots connecting in her head.

“She has a boyfriend!?” She practically screamed, quickly lowering her voice when she remembered the study door was wide open. “And she didn’t tell me?”

“It’s okay,”

“Bob, she’s got a boyfriend—” and then within another breath, she smiled excitedly. “This is so great!”

After all the horrible things Hawkins has to offer had happened, really throwing hands at her family, Joyce was over the moon with joy when she found out about your secret relationship.

It’s hard to go back to a routine when you’ve faced demogorgons on the weekend, especially when they were so close to hurting them—her boy, Will, and Bob as well. So, to know that you were acting like a regular teenager made her the happiest she’s been since she said ‘I do.’

To think, her child, regular at last.

She and Bob had both agreed to not say a word. If you were keeping the relationship a secret, it had to be for a good reason, and they knew that, in time, you’d eventually tell them.

But it would get a little hard to keep a poker face when she’d hear your bedroom window slide open, or that time he had tripped on his way in and landed on the floor loudly, or when she had caught you on your way back to bed with a glass of water, shutting the door when she approached and noticing the leather jacket that was caught in between it.

There isn’t anything wrong with leather jackets and, truly, she’s had a thing for guys in leather before, but she just hopes that whoever this guy is—as all she’s ever seen of him is from the security footage, so she’s only made out long hair and dirty shoes—that he’s not some kind of delinquent.

Now, she’s going to find out just who your mystery boyfriend is and she hopes he likes chicken because that’s all she’s got in the fridge.

─────── ⋯ ───────

When you tell Eddie that your mom is more than happy to have him over for dinner, he smiles wider than the day you told him that you had listened to Iron Maiden. But when you say that she is happy for it to happen the same night, his face drops like a ton of bricks.

“Tonight?” He asks, fiddling with his rings. “Like in... five hours?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, pulling him in by the vest to wrap your arms around him. “Is that too fast?”

“No, I just...”

“What?”

“I was going to buy some nice clothes...”

You feel your heart do the running man in your chest with how he wants to make a good first impression on your parents, but you know it’s not needed.

“Eddie, if you just be yourself, they’ll love you.”

He grins at that, pulling you in close to kiss you. His lips taste like the strawberries you both shared for lunch, though you had wanted him to eat an actual meal. When it’s not particularly busy at work, you eat lunch with him in the staff room, even though he stops by almost every day to say hello.

There were a few times when you had to hide him behind the counter when your dad gave you a surprise visit, offering a bag full of lunch he had bought on his way over. The little stinker Munson would pinch your thighs for fun and once you had kneed him directly in the chest, slamming him back against the shelving and having to play off his groan as you accidentally knocked your knee.

Eddie can’t help it. He loves to have fun and by any means possible, really. You just know that after tonight when you both don’t have to sneak around anymore, he’ll be twelve times more sprightly.

“How’s your campaign?” You ask, reaching over to grab the package of Cheez Balls he had brought with him.

“Good,” he nods, diving a hand into the tin as soon as you open it. “Will’s a really smart kid.”

“Yeah, I saw him throw some character sketches into his bag before we left this morning. He loves those sessions with you.”

That’s how you first met Eddie, through your baby brother’s fixation with Dungeons and Dragons. He was so happy to know that there was a club going on at high school, having feared that everyone would have grown out of it by now, and so joining Hellfire is one of the best things that’s happened to him recently.

You’re always going to be extremely thankful to Eddie for taking in your brother like he has. You’ve always looked out for him and this year has been the first that you haven’t had anything strange happen, so he’s getting the chance to be a normal teenager.

Really, in a way, Will is the one to thank for you getting with Eddie. When you had picked up your brother from a session one night, Eddie had walked him out to the car and instantly you were in love.

All Eddie has ever done since the start is shown in many different ways how much he cares for everyone and how big a heart he has. If that isn’t attractive, you don’t know what is.

Oh, wait a minute. His rings...

He pipes up, “Do you think it’ll be weird?”

You’re thrown out of your thoughts by his question but you don’t exactly know what he means.

“What will?” You ask, popping a cheese ball into your mouth.

“The fact that Will is going to find out that his Dungeon Master is also his sister’s boyfriend.”

You shrug. “He’ll be fine with it. Might be a little surprised but I think he’s gonna love the fact that his favorite DM is with his favorite sister.”

Eddie laughs. “You’re his only sister.”

Furrowing your brows, you chew on another cheese ball. “What’s your point?”

He finds that even more fun but you just smile in victory at having made him laugh. He might love Metalica and Black Sabbath, but you’re always going to believe that his laugh is the best song in the world.

No band can beat that.

When Eddie eventually leaves with a kiss on the cheek and a wave goodbye, you count down the minutes until your shift is over. You spend the rest of it idly as it’s pretty quiet today until your dad picks you up an hour early from his job just as he promised.

When you arrive home—Jonathan and Will having been picked up by your mom—you walk into the house that smells of smoke and the sounds of frustrated murmurings.

“What’s going on?” You ask as you and your dad step into the kitchen after giving each other a look.

There’s a dark cloud hanging over in the room as your mom waves an oven mitt at the open oven. She spins around at the sound of your voice, flashing an anxious smile.

“I burnt some of the chicken,” she says, scratching her head.

“Oh, honey,” Bob coos, walking over to her and peering into the oven. “It doesn’t look too bad. There’s still more than enough for the six of us.”

“I still have to make a salad,”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” you say, shrugging your jacket off. “Let me get changed and I’ll make one.”

She breathes out a relieved ‘thank you,’ as you head to your bedroom and on the way, you bump into Jonathan who has got half of two shirts on; one sleeve on one arm and the other sleeve on the next.

“Hey,” he smiles, but quickly looks back down at the shirts. “Which one do you think is better?”

You furrow your brows, perplexed at what your brother is doing.

“Is Nancy coming over?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No, I’m asking for you.”

Smiling, you can’t help but feel really happy about how much he cares. Despite being younger than you, he’s always acted like your big brother but, honestly, you don’t mind. He’s one of the best.

“Left,” you say, pointing at the shirt.

He nods. “I thought so too. Thanks,”

You chuckle as he dashes into his bedroom and you head into your bedroom, looking around for some clothes to wear for tonight. You’ve never been too fussed over how you look but tonight is kinda a big deal and you want to look your best.

When you’re straightening your clothes in the mirror, someone knocks at your door and you turn to see Will in one of Bob’s old button-down shirts.

“Don’t you look handsome?” You say, and he smiles wide.

“You look great,” he says. “I’m really looking forward to tonight.”

“Yeah, me too. He’s a pretty big deal to me.”

“How long have you been seeing him?”

Now, Will is a smart kid. If you tell him the truth, two things are going to happen; first, he’s going to ask you why you’ve been keeping it a secret for so long and second, he’s going to do the math and realize you’ve had a boyfriend around the time you met Eddie.

He’s going to find out soon, anyway, about who you’re dating, but until that actually happens, you’re keeping up with the routine.

“Just a little while,” you shrug. “I really like him, though, so I want you all to meet him.”

“I’m sure he’s great,”

You walk over to him and kiss his forehead. “So are you.”

Will smiles, quickly leaving the room after telling you that you should wear the new perfume you bought recently and you take him up on his offer, spraying yourself a couple times before walking into the kitchen to help your mom by preparing a salad.

Bob has cut up the chicken onto a platter while Jonathan set the table, and Will helps him with the last few items before you hand him the bowl to take with him.

The sound of an engine grows nearer outside, accompanied by blaring music from a stereo, which is quickly shut off as lights begin to pull into the driveway.

Will and Jonathan are leaping over to the couch against the window, nudging open the blinds to get a peek at who’s arrived.

“He’s here!” Will calls out, watching the headlights turn off.

“He drives a van,” Jonathan says, looking at you over his shoulder. “Strike one.”

“Stop,” you say, smacking your hand against his arm.

Both he and Will chuckle—not out of mockery but by your reaction—and then Will’s gasping as he shoves the blinds closed, eyes straight at the front door when there’s a knock against the wood.

“Okay,” your mom says, walking into the living room and waving her hands. “Nobody panic. Just calm down.”

“We’re not the ones panicking, mom,” Jonathan smiles.

Your mom lets out a breathless chuckle as Bob steps beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“It’s going to be fine,” he looks over at you. “Want me to get the door?”

“No, I’ll get it,”

With a quick prepared breath, you spin on your heel and walk over to the front door, wrapping your fingers around the handle and pulling it open and you see your beautiful boyfriend standing on the doorstep with a black shirt and one of his more stable jackets.

Even without buying any new clothes, he’s put a lot of effort into his appearance. His shoes are sturdier than the white Reeboks he usually wears, so you think he might have gotten them from his uncle. But he still has the chain attached to the loops of his jeans and it makes you smile.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hi,” he grins.

For just a few seconds, that becomes a moment just for the two of you, then you’re stepping to the side so that he can come in, and your family are almost circling him the moment he does.

“Hello,” your mom beams, approaching him with your dad still beside her.

“I’m Eddie,” he says, stretching out a hand to shake your mom’s hand, who does so a little too eagerly. “These are for you.”

He’s bought a bouquet of flowers with him, all pretty colors of pinks and yellows, and you think that’s where his money went into. Your mom takes the flowers happily, smiling up at Bob who looks just as gleeful.

“Thank you, Eddie. They’re lovely,”

“I’m Bob,” your dad says, shaking Eddie’s hand. “And that right over there is the man of the house,”

There’s a chuckle from Jonathan when Bob points a finger at him, but he seems especially stiff when giving Eddie a nod in acknowledgement. Will, on the other hand, is standing there with an agape expression, looking completely shocked.

“Hey, Will the Wise,” Eddie grins, reaching over to mess up your brother’s hair.

He’s quick to fix it and though the room goes silent for a moment, he’s breaking out into a confused but excited grin which eases your worries. For a moment, you thought he went lifeless on you.

“You’re the boyfriend,” Will says.

“Do you know each other?” Your mom inquires, looking between the two of them.

“Yeah, we play Dungeons and Dragons together,”

Your mom beams a hundred voltages brighter at that, though her eyes are about as wide as saucers.

“The Hellfire Club?” She asks.

Eddie smiles, rocking on his heels. “Yeah, every Wednesday night.”

You know your mom is already won over by Eddie the second she realizes that he’s the guy who Will’s been talking about excitedly over breakfast. Since he joined the club with his friends, he’s been wearing the Hellfire shirt around the house like it’s attached to him. You’ve even seen him sleep in it.

“Come, sit down,” your mom waves her hands. “Let’s eat.”

She’s content staring at the flowers when she walks into the kitchen and everyone begins to follow. Eddie sneaks an arm around your waist, smiling at you.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve used the door,” he mutters.

You roll your eyes, shushing him and heading over to the table. Eddie’s on the move before a hand grabs his shoulder and he’s turning around to meet the stern gaze of your brother.

“Hey, man,” he says. “Long time, no see.”

Jonathan smiles only for a moment, something extremely short-lived.

“That was a one-time thing,” he grunts. “You better not have been giving any weed to my sister—”

“No way, she doesn’t touch the stuff. Don’t worry, I’d never pressure her into anything she didn’t want.”

“You better not, and this stays between us.”

“Sure,” Eddie nods. “My lips are sealed between you, me, and purple palm tree delight,”

He lets out a humorous chuckle at Jonathan’s deadpan stare before heading over to the dining room to see all the food laid out on the table. You’re smiling at him happily, patting the chair next to you, and he almost skips over to sit beside you.

Your mom apologizes about the lack of dinner but Eddie’s shaking his head, telling her that it’s more than enough and it’s much better than the canned food he’s so used to having.

Conversation flows very smoothly when plates are filled up, and Eddie answers every question put to him by your parents and your brothers, though Will is mostly just giddily listening because here’s his hero with his big sister.

Eddie opens up about a lot of things, mainly his life with his uncle and how he got into music. It’s clearly a very interesting topic to your dad who leans into the discussion with a curious grin, nodding along to the origin of the name ‘Corroded Coffin.’

In turn, Bob talks about how he founded the Hawkins AV Club, saying that he could be a player in one of Eddie’s D&D sessions since he was nicknamed ‘Bob the Brain,’ but how Will is always telling him how embarrassing that would be.

It’s lovely when everyone at the table laughs, making the atmosphere feel really comfortable. They take a liking to Eddie right away and you feel so warm in the chest at the scene.

“So,” Bob passes the salad onto Joyce who scoops a pile into Eddie’s plate. “What kind of songs do you play?”

“We play a few covers,” Eddie replies. “But we’ve been working on some original music.”

“That’s cool,” Will smiles.

“And you play at the Hideout?” Joyce asks and when Eddie nods, she smiles. “We should come to see you play sometime.”

“Yeah!” Bob lights up. “A big family outing. We’ll be cheering for you in the crowd.”

Eddie chuckles, hiding half of his smile into the palm of his hand when he props his elbow onto the table.

“I didn’t know you listened to that kind of music, dad,” you say after taking a sip of your water.

“Yeah, of course. I was super into Led Zeppelin in my teens,”

He mimics an air guitar, smiling over at your mom who’s shaking her head with that face that both says ‘I love you’ and ‘you amaze me.’

“Nice,” Eddie says. “Do you play?”

“Oh, no. Not anymore.”

“You can jam with me one day. I have a gorgeous Warlock NJ you can use.”

You hum, turning to him. “I think that guitar gets more love than me sometimes.”

He scrunches up his nose, shaking his head as he reaches over to hold your hand, and you’re glad that he kept the rings on, too.

“You know,” Bob says, waving his fork around. “I’m actually a big Dio fan myself.”

Eddie furrows his brows for a moment, leaning in closer to the table. “How did you know I like Dio?”

“Because it’s on your vest—”

The second he says it, the room falls deadly silent. Everyone, including you, is sitting in their chairs confused, but only you, Eddie, and your dad know the reason.

Eddie isn’t wearing his Dio vest.

“Dad...?” You question, watching the way he sits frozen with a slightly open mouth.

“Hmm?” He hums, coming back to life, and shoving the piece of chicken on his fork right into his mouth.

You might have shaken the suspicion away if it weren’t for the guilty face your mom wears, who immediately starts stabbing the salad on her plate when you give her a look.

“Oh my gosh,” you breathe out. “They know.”

Somehow, your parents know that you’ve been sneaking Eddie in through your bedroom window nearly every night. But how could they have found out when you tried so hard to be careful about it?

Both you and Eddie took every precaution with the secrecy of it all. You would keep your door locked, Eddie would only come over on foot, not risking the sound of his van pulling up in the street, and he would leave only after the house was empty or while everyone was too busy at the front, usually resulting in Eddie jumping over the bushes in the backyard.

You are completely confused about where the two of you slipped up in all of this.

“All right,” your mom sighs, nodding at Bob and placing her hand on top of his. “Your father and I know about Eddie,”

“Wait, what?” Jonathan asks. “What’s going on?”

“Bob has the cameras and we—”

You groan. “Oh no,”

“We,” your mom emphasises, “just happened to stumble upon some footage of him climbing through the window and—”

“You did what?” Jonathan snaps, looking at Eddie.

He’s got that big brother look in his eye that warns Eddie to answer him very carefully and you tighten your hold of his hand, hoping that your younger brother doesn’t do anything rash like tackle Eddie over the dinner table.

Think about all the food that will be wasted.

“Okay, okay,” Bob extends his hands, gesturing for everyone to sit back in their chairs. “Clearly, there’s been some secrets in the family, but we want you to know that we aren’t mad at you.”

Joyce shakes her head with a sympathetic look on her face.

“You aren’t?” You ask, slowly relaxing after having tensed up at the bombshell that was dropped over dinner.

“No,” your mom shakes her head, face scrunched up. “I did a lot of sneaking around when I was your age.”

“We thought we’d let you tell us when you were ready,” Bob says.

As much as it is unbelievably understanding of them—though they’ve always been that way—you can’t help but feel embarrassed about it, especially of how it came out. You can’t believe you forgot all about the security cameras your dad installed. Sure, the tech side of it goes over your head but, hell, you thought you’d catch it.

Turns out, you and Eddie aren’t as sneaky as you thought you were.

“Well...” you let out a deep breath, still processing. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Thank you for telling us,” Bob says.

It falls a little quiet after that with the exception of Jonathan’s knife scraping against the plate as he stares at Eddie while cutting into his chicken. Instead, you send Will a silly look when he catches your attention and he snickers.

“So,” Eddie pipes up, looking at your dad. “Would now be a bad time for me to ask if I could get some work experience with you?”

Bob perks up, mouth curved cheerfully. “Work with me?”

“Only if that’s okay. I’m just looking for a job right now and your daughter’s told me a lot about you,”

He looks ten times more happy than before, wearing a proud dad look on his face.

“Of course. I can always do with more workers. You know how to work electronics?”

“Just the basics, you know; toaster, VHS, and guitar amps, but I’m willing to learn and I’m great at fixing things.”

Bob chuckles. “You’re a clever guy, that’s good.”

When he’s too distracted by passing the food down to Will at the end of the table, you lean into Eddie’s side and whisper, “Told you.”

There was no doubt in your mind that your dad would take Eddie on to work with him at Radio Shack and now you get to visit him at his job for lunch instead of the other way around, though your dad will most likely join in as well.

Maybe Eddie will have to wear a dress shirt and tie just like your dad does. Hmm, that could be interesting.

It’s Will’s disgusted scoff that draws you out from your thinking, giving him a strange look until you realize that you and Eddie are huddled together at the table, hand in hand, and have been staring at each other for the past twenty seconds.

“Yeah,” Jonathan nods, pointing his pinky at Will. “Ew.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re one to talk,”

There are not enough fingers on your hand to count the times you’ve caught Jonathan sucking face with Nancy and the lipstick stains she leaves on his skin afterwards. If anything is disgusting, it’s that.

“Hey, Eds,” Bob speaks, and you get all giddy at the nickname. “Can you start Monday?”

“Yeah,” he nods excitedly. “Absolutely.”

“Great, this will be great,”

Not just that, you think, but this whole thing has been great. Your parents have welcomed Eddie with open arms, Jonathan seems to be on the fence but either way, you know he can tell you’re smitten, and Will is over the moon that the head of the Hellfire Club is eating dinner at his house.

Tonight could not have gone any smoother, in fact, you’re sure you’re going to hear only good things once Eddie leaves for the night—since there’s absolutely no way that he’s staying and if he tries, you’ll kick him in the shins.

Those flowers he bought for your mom are going to be displayed in a vase for weeks, or for as long as she can keep them alive, and you’re going to smile every time you see them.

Thank goodness you’re a Byers, Bob included.

“And hey,” your dad suddenly says, “maybe I can teach you a few things about security cameras.”

Well, choking on your chicken is the only bad thing to happen tonight. Otherwise, it’s the best night you’ve had in a long time.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Taglist: @dameronology @overly-obsessed-with-you @doublesunsets @shadowhuntyi @munsonology @compassgenius @thefaeriemagic3

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

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Love and War

Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter

Synopsis: Bob Floyd never expected to fall in love during the war, especially not with a pretty, young nurse during basic training. But love works in funny ways and can their love stand the rest of time, the war and the distance that separates them. Warnings: mentions of graphic themes, war, injury, weapons, sexual images, language, 18+.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hagenau and Germany February and April 1945

Hagenau. The place was nearly as bleak as Bastogne. The crumbling buildings were to be home to Easy Company for however long they needed to hold it for. The decaying town was dark, gloomy and vacant, any sign of life having moved on long ago. A river ran through the town, one side occupied by the Airborne and the other by the Germans. Overall, there had been little retaliation from either side, both had roofs over their heads, beds to sleep in and warm food in their bellies, why would they want to jeopardise that. Or that’s what the men thought.

“Tonight you will be going on a patrol to cross the river to retrieve German prisoners. Now the Colonel wants as many as we can and we need them to talk so don’t shoot the first thing that moves.” Captain Nelson sighed, “now I don’t want any of you taking unnecessary risks, not now, not when we’ve come this far. It’s that clear?”

An echoing chorus of ‘yes Sir’ filled the dimly lit basement.

“Good. Floyd, you're leading the patrol, picking 14 men to go with you.” Bob nodded as Captain Nelson retreated. The men looked at Bob expectantly, waiting for his decision on who would go. He hated this part, having to choose who he may be sending to their deaths, what right did he have to hold such power?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The patrol hadn't gone to plan. Several of the replacements had been hit by mortar fire, the rounds exploding in all their excellence. Earth flying through the air as they exhibited the sheer strength of their firepower. The group managed to capture three German POWs. Coming back to the boats had been a challenge, mortars exploding around them and gunfire ringing in their ears. Bob remembered shouting, his voice drowned out by the echoing screams. He stood, watching as the others ran towards the safety of the boats. He caught Jackson’s eye, waving for him to hurry. The boys legs pounded as he ran, ducking to avoid the falling debris when the bullet ripped through him. It caught him off gaurd causing him to stop in his tracks.

“JACKSON!” Bob screamed, stepping forward towards his wounded friend. Jackson's eyes were glassy, tears trickling down his face as the crimson blood bloomed from his chest.

“Bob,” he whispered as the mortar round hit the ground by his feet. The explosion erupting beneath him. Bob blinked watching as the Earth settled where his friend had just been standing, scraps of Jackson uniform fluttering down from the dark sky.

“NOOOOO!” Bob lurched forward, cries of agony whipping from his throat. “JACKSON!” Two arms either side of Bob pulled him backwards, towards the boat, towards the shore but away from his friend.

Albert met Bob on the bank of the river as he returned.

“Are you alright? Are ya hit?” Albert asked, grabbing onto Bob and inspecting him for any signs of injuries, worried eyes darting over his friend. Bob stayed silent, his face emotionless but his eyes revealing all the pain and terror he felt.

“Bob, where's Jackson?” Albert asked, his eyes scanning the men returning behind him.

“He didn’t make it,” Bob replied blankly, pushing past the medic and up the bank towards the houses. He didn’t want to talk about it, he didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to go back, to stop Jackson from volunteering to go, hell if he could he’d stop him from joining the paratroopers all together.

That night remained silent, no gunfire, no explosions. It was as if both sides stopped firing in respect for their fallen comrades.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bob leant back against the stone pillar, the sun beating down from the clear blue sky and warming his cold bones. His eyes were closed as he daydreamed absentmindedly. He wondered what (y/n) would be doing right now. Was she sitting underneath the same sun rays? Was she hidden away somewhere in a poorly lit underground hospital? Bob was drawn from his thoughts by a shadow standing over him, blocking the sun's heat. He squinted, opening his eyes cautiously and shielding them from the bright light.

“Albert, what the hell man? Move out of the way.”

Albert just snorted at Bob’s protest, throwing himself down beside him and pulling out two cigarettes. He lit them both, offering one to Bob in silence. Bob took the cigarette, inhaling deeply as the warm, familiar feeling filled his lungs.

“They surrendered.” Albert mumbled, the cigarette in the side of his mouth wobbling as he spoke.

“Who did?”

“Three hundred thousand Krauts surrender.” Albert said, tilting his head towards Bob with a wide grin on his face. “We’re moving out in an hour.”

“Where are we heading?” Bob sat up a little, suddenly interested in what the medic had to say. “Hey, don’t leave me hanging now, Doc.”

“We’re going to the Alps?”

Bob sat bolt upright, “THE ALPS?” He exclaimed, “what the hell happened to jumping into Berlin?”

Albert snorted, taking another long drag from his cigarette, “It’s not happening. Apparently Hitler ordered the Waffen SS to hold up in the mountains and repel any invaders.”

This time Bob snorted, letting a hearty laugh rumble through his chest, it was the first genuine laugh he’d had in a while. “Invaders, huh? I like the sound of that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He counted long, he counted loud, he waited for the shock,

He felt the wind, he felt the cold, he felt the awful drop,

The silk from his reserves spilled out, and wrapped around his legs,

And he ain't gonna jump no more

Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,

Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,

Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,

He ain't gonna jump no more.”

The voices of hundreds of paratroopers sang out across the German countryside as the DUKW, 2 ½ ton trucks and jeeps trundled along the dirt roads. Bob smiled as he watched the others singing but he couldn’t find it in him to sing along. Albert sat next to him, fingers drumming on his thigh to the tune.

“You know I had a letter from Mary the other day,” Albert spoke up, glancing over in Bob’s direction.

“Oh yeah, how is she?”

“She’s good. Bonnie’s gonna be three this week. My baby girls gonna be three and I’ve only seen her a handful of times.” Albert passed Bob across a small black and white photo. The picture was crumpled at the edges, bent from where Albert had nestled it above his heart in his pocket. A young smiling woman looked back at him with a young giggling child in her arms.

“She’s a beauty, Albert, they both are. I promise I’ll get you home to them.” Bob gripped Albert’s hand, squeezing it gently in a silent promise.

“I know you will,” Albert replied, watching Bob in earnest, his dark eyes flickering to Bob’s blue ones. The singing around them ceased and the two men pulled apart, suddenly aware of their closer proximity.

“I promise,” Bob repeated and Albert looked at him again.

“I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since the liberation of the concentration camp in Ohrdruf, Bob’s sleep had been plagued with nightmares. Every time he closed his eyes his mind filled with the images of horror, the stench of the bodies, the sorrowful cries, the agony plastered on all the survivors faces. Their gaunt faces, sunken eyes and quivering lips played behind Bob’s eyes. He tossed and turned beneath the rough, cotton bed sheets, staring into the darkness that surrounded the sleeping soldiers. When sleep truly evaded him he would wander outside, the cool night air setting deep into his bones and causing him to shiver but nothing could compare to the frigid, biting winds of Bastogne. He would light a cigarette, taking a long drag of smoke and letting it out in an exasperated puff. Albert would often join him, lighting a cigarette of his own and the two men would stand side by side in an understanding silence. Sometimes they swore they could hear Jackson talking to them, the sound of his laughter bringing smiles to their sullen faces. But sometimes the men didn’t talk, they didn’t laugh, instead sharing a harrowing silence. Bob didn’t feel like the same man he used to be, this war had changed everyone in many ways but Bob felt old. He felt far wiser than his years and far more tired than a man of his age should ever dream of feeling. As he looked to the faces of his comrades, Bob saw himself in them too, their faces looking far older than their years. He remembered back in Toccoa, young men, barely old enough to buy a beer, all fresh faced and youthful, ready for whatever life had to throw at them but not anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To my dearest (y/n),

You would not believe the horrors we have witnessed over the last week. We came across a work camp in Ohrdruf that was holding Jews. They had separated the men from the women and children who were at another camp. I can still hear their agonising cries for help everytime I try to go to sleep. You should have seen the harrowing looks on their faces. In all of this war and the horrors I have witnessed this truly is the one that haunts me. These men were starving, left to die and all because of their religion.

I had begun to question what this war was all for, began to question why I was writing so many letters home lying to the parents of my young comrades, telling them their sons died with honour. In truth their sons died in a place they didn’t need to be in a battle over something that none of us understand. I now know the reason we fight, we fight for a better world for everyone. To rid this world of evil.

I’m fighting for you, my love, for our future and for our future children’s future.

Your face is the last thing I think about before I go to sleep every night. You are the one that keeps me going through all of this my darling and for that I am forever grateful.

I love you always

Your Bobby

(Y/n) received the letter a week after Bob had written it. She was based at a field hospital in Belgium, awaiting orders to be moved on. She sat down on the wooden steps, the sun shining brightly over the dismal landscape in some kind of mocking joy. How could the sun dare to show its face over the torment and misery that covered this land? She opened the letter quickly, her eyes scanning the crumpled, stained letter, occasionally studying a word for a little longer whilst trying to decipher the smudge letters. Her hand came to her mouth, stifling a sob as she read Bob’s words. Horrors. Death. Harrowing. Starving. Jews. The reason I fight. Bob’s words echoed through her mind, painting the images he had witnessed just a week before. A single tear slipped down her cheek as she fumbled with the ring that hung in the chain around her neck. It seemed like a lifetime ago that they had married in Paris four months previous. In that time both of them had witnessed more horrors than they could have ever imagined, and yet she still felt the hope rising in her chest every time she saw Bob’s spidery scrawl across the front of the stained envelope. He was still alive, they both were and that’s all that mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @bradshawseresinbabe @wkndwlff @a-reader-and-a-writer @callsign-phoenix @imjess-themess @averyhotchner @mayhem24-7forever @callsignmaverick5 @ssprayberrythings @smoothdogsgirl @xoxabs88xox @luckyladycreator2 @abaker74 @elenavampire21 @classyunknownlover @okiegirl24 @flashyourgreeneyesatme @airedale17 @shadowolf993 @flyboyjake @topguncultleader @callmemana @t-nd-rfoot @desert-fern @cherrycola27 @green-socks @jstarr86 @starkleila @alexxavicry @roostette @floralfloyd @soulmates8 @depressed-friend-blog @mayhemmanaged @shanimallina87 @shadowsintheknight @bcon24 @cassiemitchell

#love and war #bobfloyd #bob floyd x y/n #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x you #robert 'bob' floyd #robert floyd fic #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd ww2 #ww2 fic #ww2au #101stairbornedivision #101st airborne

[eclectic-mania]

world on fire

1. tell me you'll never more roam

(read it here on ao3!)

Once upon a time, Jackie Burkhart loved Christmas in Point Place. 

Well, once upon a time, she loved Christmas; it just happened that at that point, she had spent all her Christmases in Point Place. 

Though Wisconsin winters were more than brutal, she loved how bright and shiny the snow made everything look. She enjoyed hot chocolate and catching snowflakes on her tongue. She adored looking at the Christmas lights her neighbors would put up. She relished the feeling of goodwill and was elated by how happy and peppy it made everyone, even the resident Scrooges. 

Most of all, though, she loved celebrating the holiday with people that loved her, her family. 

Not the Burkharts, of course; Jack had become negligent long before going to jail, and Pam had never bothered to care for her only daughter while they were in the same country, let alone different ones. No, Jackie’s family consisted of Red and Kitty Forman and, for a brief but shining moment, Bob Pinciotti. Once upon a time, she would even consider the basement gang to be a part of that family: Donna, her best friend and the closest thing she had to a sister; Eric, the nerdy almost-brother that tormented and teased her as if she really was his sister; Michael, her loveable but stupid ex-boyfriend; Fez, the girliest and best guy-friend she ever had; and Steven, the absolute love of her life. She loved spending time with them, even if they were just sitting around the stinky old basement. These people made the holidays worth it, and the holiday season wasn’t complete without seeing them.

But that was all once upon a time. Christmas in Point Place was something out of a fairy tale, and Jackie had long since learned that fairy tales weren’t real. 

She knew better than to go back now. 

It’s not like she had the time to do so, anyway. She was a busy and respected fashion designer, one of several in a pretty prestigious fashion house in New York City. She was in the middle of designing her very first solo collection; it was a big task but not something that she necessarily had to be in the city for at this stage. Still, it was better if she was, just in case anything went awry. 

She could take a few days off if she wanted, but why should she? She clawed her way up the ladder on nothing but her own merit and had far too many responsibilities to tend to out here to ensure her status was maintained, or so she claimed to Kitty whenever the inevitable invitation would come. Beyond work, too, she had an apartment to take care of, plants to water, elderly neighbors to cook for, and no desire to see the people she purposefully left behind.

Kitty Forman never accepted that Jackie never wanted to come back, and Jackie never gave in to her mother figure’s pleading to come home. 

Well, not until this year, anyway. 

“I really can’t, Mrs. Forman,” Jackie insisted on their weekly phone call one November night, a hint of desperation in her voice. “I’m so busy with the studio. We’re working on a mock-up of the design concept, and one of the seamstresses needs emergency surgery, so we’re already down a hand, and—”

“Now, Jackie.” Kitty’s voice crackled through the phone, her own tell-tale signs of desperation seeping into her voice. “I have been very patient with you, young lady, but this has gone on long enough. Now, you need us, Jackie, especially after this year you’ve had. And besides, it’s been how many years since we’ve had you over for Christmas?” 

“Not that long,” Jackie muttered.

“Christmas of ‘78! That was your last Christmas here, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Mrs. Forman, but—”

“And Fez will be here,” Kitty continued, trying her hardest to make her case. “You still talk to him, don’t you? Won’t it be so nice to see him again?” 

“Of course, Mrs. Forman, but I don’t—”

“And Eric will be here since he still lives here, but Laurie won’t be, so you can have her room!” Kitty laughed nervously, hoping this sold her on the idea. It didn’t; Jackie had no desire to sleep on a mattress that had seen more action than a bed at the Playboy mansion. “Well? What do you say?” 

Jackie took a long pause to collect all her strength for what was coming next. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Forman.” 

“Oh.” There was another pause, a long one, and then a sniffle. “Well, honey, you’ve left me no choice. Red,” she called away, and Jackie instantly groaned.

“No, Mrs. Forman, don’t—”

“Loud One,” Red grunted into the phone. “Why is my wife crying?” 

Jackie rolled her eyes. Of course she was crying. “I told her I couldn’t make it out for Christmas and New Year’s this year.”

“And why the hell not? I know for a fact you have paid time off that you haven’t used, young lady, so I suggest you use it for this holiday season because Kitty won’t take no for an answer.” 

“I took some time off,” she argued half-heartedly. “Whenever Eric visits, I take time off to see him. Remember when Eric’s layover landed here after the rest of his Africa teaching gig? I was the one who showed him around the city, Mr. Forman.” 

“That was years ago, Loud One, and it was just three days you took off. If you can take time off for the dumbass, you can sure as hell take time off for us. We—I mean, Kitty misses you, okay?” 

She sighed and pressed her forehead against the wall, eyes closed tight. “I don’t want to see them again, Mr. Forman.” 

“And you won’t,” he said without missing a beat. It was almost as if he expected this point to be brought up. “The neighbor girl doesn’t come around as much now that she and the dumbass are broken up, the kettlehead has his own family to take care of now, and the hophead is going to Christmas dinner at his dad’s. You won’t be seeing anyone you don’t want to, Loud One. We’ll make sure of it.” Then, in a much softer voice, he spoke again. “Come home, Jackie.” 

She sighed again, cradling her head in her hand. Her resolve had been firm until those last three words, but now, thinking of Point Place as her home was suddenly appealing again. “Do you think we could work on the cars together while I’m there?” 

“Well, you twisted my arm,” he gruffed, but the smile in his voice was clear as day. 

--

To say Jackie was apprehensive about this trip was one hell of an understatement. She didn’t even remember the plane ride from New York to Milwaukee save for all the worrying she did, burning through two separate cassettes on her Walkman without even realizing it. She was so out of it, in fact, that Jackie nearly did an about-face once she hit the arrivals terminal of Milwaukee International Airport. Still, a familiar face stopped her in her tracks. 

Well, that’s not entirely true. A sign that was thrust high in the air stopped Jackie in her tracks, with Devil written on it in big red block letters. Jackie’s eyes locked onto that sign and instantly shifted to the face of the man holding it, a smile immediately pulling at her lips in response to the giant grin on his. 

“There she is, back to make my life a living hell,” he called, not caring about the attention it was bringing him in the crowded airport terminal. 

Jackie didn’t care either, pulling her bag behind her as she ran up and into Eric’s arms. “String Bean,” she said warmly, “Merry Christmas Eve! It’s so good to see you! I didn’t know you were picking me up.” 

“I thought I’d surprise you,” he grinned, taking her bag from her. “Well, Red didn’t want you to take a taxi. You know how he is. You’re his favorite.” 

“Hell yeah, I am,” she laughed, falling into step beside him. 

Her friendship with Eric surprised everyone, given that they had always been antagonistic toward each other when he left. Sure, they both knew that it came from a place of affection, but this was apparently news to everyone else. 

Jackie was one of the few people who wrote to Eric regularly when he was in Africa, keeping him involved and up-to-date in all things happening in Point Place until she left in December of ‘79. She told him about Chicago, about Sam the Stripper, about Randy. Then, after she had moved, Jackie filled him in on the two-day stay in the hospital when she had to be treated for pneumonia after falling into the creek after the county fair and how that had been the driving force to finally do the damn thing she was meant to do and move away already.

And, though Jackie never expected a response, she got one almost every time. Each letter was another deep dive into his life in Africa, his thoughts on what he saw out there, and all the things Jackie was telling him. In each response, Eric was thoughtful and considerate and only a little snarky, which Jackie greatly appreciated. He showed genuine concern for her physical and mental health and even offered up a number for her to call him when she could. 

Then all of a sudden, they had a weekly call scheduled, and when Eric was due to come back, he even planned his trip back so that he had a few days of layover in New York City. He’d been back once or twice since then, usually on weekends to accommodate his teacher’s schedule, and so Jackie didn’t have to take time off during her tumultuous first months as a designer. 

She was the first one he spoke to when he was trying to figure out his next steps after Africa and to gush about his crush on a fellow teacher; he was the first one she called about her new collection and the only one to fly out when she was going through a tough breakup. They supported each other through ups and downs; it was the most healthy and fulfilling friendship Jackie had ever had. 

Remembering how much he meant to her was the only thing keeping Jackie from frogging Eric now, though, because his conversation topics were terrible. “He asks about you, you know?” 

“I don’t care,” she said flatly, staring out the window. “You know better than to tell him anything.” 

“I know,” he soothed, his voice only slightly higher-pitched. Jackie knew how much Eric hated lying to his friends, but this was important to her. “He knows we talk and that I’ve visited you, but I don’t tell him anything, and neither does Fez, I think. I just wanted you to know that he asks.” 

“And I just want you to know I don’t care.” 

Eric snorted but said nothing else for the next ten minutes. However, when he broke his silence again, Jackie genuinely wished he hadn’t. “I mean, he’s really sorry about the whole thing.”

“Eric,” she groaned, “seriously, String Bean, you need to can it. He should be sorry. I was in the hospital because of him! Not to mention all the vile stuff he was saying to me the entire time before that. You weren’t there, Eric. You don’t know.” 

“I know what you told me,” he insisted, “and I know what he tells me, and I’m telling you, he’s not just sorry about the creek. It might be worth giving him another chance.” 

“Stop the car.” 

“What?” 

“Stop the car, Eric!” 

As the Vista Cruiser screeched to a halt, he looked quizzically at his passenger. “What’s your deal, Devil?” 

She sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m only going to say this once because being in Wisconsin pulls my old self out just a little bit, and the old me hated begging, but I’m begging you not to bring him up again. I know he’s your brother,” she added hurriedly when Eric’s mouth opened again, “and that you love him, yadda yadda, whatever. Still, I have no intention of hearing about him or anyone else while I’m here. Red and Kitty know this already, so you need to get it through your thick skull like yesterday. Are we clear?” 

Eric stared out the windshield, unseeing. “Is it really that painful?”

“Yes,” she shot back immediately. “Those months you left us in that basement... god, Eric, they were the worst months of my life. And that’s counting going broke and losing my parents. Even the stuff with Brian...” She gulped. “All of it. Chicago and the stripper and the freakin’ pneumonia that landed me in the hospital, hell, those burns they kept shooting at me too, all of it... it broke me, broke me to the point that even Brian didn’t manage to get to yet.” 

The look Eric gave her, the heartbroken horror of remembering seeing Jackie in the aftermath of the Brian ordeal, had Jackie reaching out for his hand. He gave it to her without hesitation.

“He’s dead to me, Eric. Steven Hyde is dead to me, and I’m pretty sure he thinks of me the same way, no matter what he tells you to save face. I mean, he nearly killed me, remember?” 

“He never wanted that,” Eric said softly, squeezing her hand. “Seriously, you won’t even see him again? Jackie, I think he still lo—” 

“Hell no.” In an instant, Jackie had her fingers in her ears. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Eric Forman, or I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass, you’ll be tasting leather for weeks.” 

The threat pulled a startled laugh from the guy. “Jeez, with your Forman Rage and the foot-in-the-ass threats, it’s a wonder we’re not actually related.” 

“What can I say? There’s a reason Red loves me,” she smirked. “Now drive, String Bean. Our parents are waiting for me.”

“God, it’s like having a more tolerable Laurie around,” he groaned, but he drove off anyway, knowing his parents were just as eager to see their pseudo-daughter again.

#that 70's show #t7s #that 70's show fanfiction #world on fire #jackie x hyde #jackie burkhart #fanfic #zombie apocolypse au #eventually

[anthonybialy]

Drama Through the End of the Stefon Diggs Era for Buffalo Bills

Stefon Diggs’s watery blue cheese was inferior to Rootie’s in every way.  And his hot sauce tasted like private label Tabasco.  I'll respect his standard of honesty. He’s Houston’s problem as of yesterday, so they can brace to determine the difference between merely venting and demanding another work transfer.

The cessation of constant simmering drama shocked in specifics even if everyone expected it at some point.  Like the prototypical American Chopper argument, the fact this particular bout of one-sided bickering really ended the partnership was the only striking part.

Postponing gratification is fulfilling.  We’ve got awhile to convince ourselves.  I’m so thrilled about a draft pick next year that I’m not even going to feel depressed about waiting virtually eternally to redeem it.  An ice cream pint in the freezer’s corner is fun to discover when you thought you were out of frozen desserts.  It’s sadly your second flavor choice, so don’t expect sea salt in your caramel. 

Fittingly ticking off someone was part of the trade’s return.  Considering the meager return, it has to be.  The Bills sent Diggs to Texas but not the team where his brother plays out of Jerry Seinfeld-style spite.  Squashing a family reunion may not be the reason he’s a Texan unlike his Cowboy brother.  But enjoy a petty fantasy at this trying trade time.

There’s going to be some running around the house after liberation from oppressive forces, so let Josh have his Kevin McAllister moment.  There will be no ensuing lesson about the importance of treasuring family.

The suspicion that Brandon Beane would’ve never made the deal without the kingpin quarterback’s blessing defines this team’s direction in case it wasn’t abundantly clear.  Josh Nelson Allen must move the offense himself.

Deciphering art is easy once you’ve tried to break the code of Diggs tweets.  The inscrutable communiques felt like listening to a numbers station without possessing a one-time pad.  The only certainty was that he was putting pouting into words.  Bob Dylan lyrics look like hotel fire evacuation instructions by comparison. 

Drafting a wideout is the universe’s most pressing task.  Other teams know the secret.  Trades involving draft order will be trickier following this one.  It’s tough to bluff when everyone knows exactly what cards the Bills hold and also don’t.

This has to be the first in a series of moves to add younger talent to the receiving corps, according to my desperate emotions.  Beane is in danger of resembling Michael Scott doing a drumroll.  He doesn’t have to make more moves involving the position today.  But lack of immediate transactions doesn’t mean they’re forthcoming, either.  Panic just in case.

Trying to rationalize diva stylings was easier around the time Diggs was in the best ever Bills receiver discussion.  Warnings from jilted Vikings fans were taken under advisement.  Hissy fits are easier to tolerate when the source is catching footballs.  But a declining role under a new coordinator led to getting dropped following Diggs doing the same.  It’s unfortunate his last play for Buffalo was such a letdown, although cringing at the final impression might make the breakup easier.

I was not expecting the obvious outcome to occur on any random day.  Anyone who thinks Diggs would never be traded is unfamiliar with the Marcell Dareus precedent.  Beane has shown a willingness to pay for avoiding aggravation.  Increasing a cap hit in response to sliming the franchise’s savior employs the same principle as forking over for airport lounge access.

Winning makes a locker room full of brats bearable.  Chemistry means playing well enough to justify putting up with behavior that’d make Kathleen Battle blush.  But it suddenly gets harder to tolerate negative vibes from the erstwhile top option.

Diggs was fittingly a good actor.  His fake throwing to fans in the M&T ad was a charming pretend interaction with receivers who weren’t anywhere close to him.  If you’re seeking a sign, the Allen/Diggs infinity ones are obsolete even though they were supposed to be immune by virtue of removing the year.

Like what’s supposedly eternal, forever has a time limit.  None of the letters in BFF mean anything.  Forget the dead cap space: what about my t-shirt elegantly depicting the first Allen-to-Diggs touchdown graciously drawn by Buffalo Bills social media personnel after the broadcast cut out at a most inopportune time?  I still haven’t located the form to apply for a refund.

One can’t discount the emotional element even in a business of cold statistics.  In this case, it was sent away.  Fans form connections with players they admire.  Some players respond by admiring themselves.

As personable as Diggs could be, he found a way to create tension like it was separation from a cornerback.  That at least applied up until partway through last season.  The franchise doesn’t have to worry about placating a fragile worker via ample attention, especially since he wasn’t earning it anymore.

The Jersey Shore shifts from New York to Texas.  Houston receives a kabuki actor as a present consideration.  The big deal’s big deal offers no surprises even as he does surprising things.  The overall situation is predictable even if individual moments are imbued with havoc.

The question with Diggs is always if the yards he produces are worth the theatrical production.  He’s got a future on Broadway if he’s willing to work behind the scenes, so forget it.  The Bills made an economic calculation weighing benefits versus costs.  When the latter outweighs the former, it’s time to stop buying.

It’s not like offstage was the only place he put on a show.  The rest of the cast enjoyed the play.  Both Allen and Diggs benefitted from a classic pairing, as did fans.

But who helped more?  One person voted for himself and got no other support.  Determining who contributed the biggest percentage can seem like a silly debate right up until the second step proclaims the first is less important.  Diggs received luck along with footballs.  He credits himself for how the roulette wheel spun.  The Bills heading to Houston this season gives Diggs one more chance to create a spectacle.  Pass routes may or may not be part of it.

#Buffalo Bills #Stefon Diggs #NFL #football

[sinceileftyoublog]

The Walkmen Live Show Review: 5/18, Metro, Chicago

BY JORDAN MAINZER

“It’s good to be back,” said Hamilton Leithauser in the middle of The Walkmen’s second show on a four-night run at Metro, in what’s surely been a triumphant return. “I don’t know what ‘back’ means, but we’re back right now,” he clarified. Of course, any time a band doesn’t really break up but takes an indefinite hiatus, and then announces a reunion (or revenge) tour, fans invariably consider the prospect of new music. Instead, right now, at least for the time being, The Walkmen are reflecting on a storied discography, revealing to crowds on a nightly basis where they started and how far they’ve come.

Entering the stage to little banter, perhaps The Walkmen wanted to show us that, indeed, they never really left. They certainly sounded like it, Leithauser’s twangy sneer and Matt Barrick’s chugging drums propelling “On the Water”, Paul Maroon’s angular stabs and Leithauser’s trademark screams lifting “In the New Year” to the heights at which it previously soared, the entire band blasting through “The Rat” like they had little time left on earth. But as the set went on, Leithauser’s contextualization of their songs surfaced the raw imperfections underneath the band that always dressed perfectly, like the debonair socialites of Aughts post-punk. (I’ll never forget a fall 2013 Walkmen show where Leithauser clarified the band bought all their clothes at Costco and Target.) The band formed in the early 2000′s in Harlem from the ashes of Jonathan Fire*Eater and The Recoys, and their back-to-back performances of “Little House of Savages” and “The Blizzard of ‘96″--meant for those previous bands, respectively--showcased how the two disparate sonic aspects of The Walkmen for so long have worked in tandem. That is, many of their best songs start with, simply, sheer blasts of instrumentation, like “The Rat” or “Little House of Savages”, but equally impressive are the plinking, jangly exercises in collegiate and urban nostalgia like “The Blizzard of ‘96″, “138th Street”, and “We’ve Been Had”, the last of which was the first song they ever wrote, Leithauser a ripe 21 “writing forlorn lyrics about being 19.”

Though the band prioritized their back catalog over strong later career albums like Lisbon and Heaven, I was glad to see them recognize the brilliance of a few more recent tracks. The first couple times I saw The Walkmen, they played songs from those records that had not yet been released, and hearing “Blue As Your Blood” and the anthemic “Heaven” took me back to my initial transfixation. Lisbon, especially, established a newfound emphasis on country-adjacent music, the most Leithauser’s ever sounded like a raspy Bob Dylan, songs like “Blue As Your Blood” carried by Maroon’s Spaghetti Western guitar plucks and Barrick’s galloping percussion. You could say such songs were foreshadowed by You & Me’s gorgeous “Red Moon” (“I prefer it without the horn section,” admitted Leithauser), but to me, Lisbon was the album where The Walkmen most successfully honed in on what made them tick. “This song took the longest to record of any Walkmen song ever,” said Leithauser introducing “Juveniles”, joking, “I don’t know why: It’s a simple song.” On the surface, “Juveniles” is simply, a gentle sway, but something about its clanging treble worms into your head, Leithauser’s chants of “You’re one of us or one of them” practically made for an audience to shout back.

When Leithauser told the crowd, “We didn’t know whether anybody would remember us,” it came at first as a shock. The Walkmen were one of the most critically acclaimed indie rock bands at a time when indie rock dominated the critical discourse, for better or for worse. Of course people would remember them! Thinking back, though, as the years passed since Heaven was released, maybe the band was simply stored in people’s memory banks, perhaps precisely because they never technically broke up or announced a big farewell, leaving a permanent-feeling void in their fans’ hearts. In essence, then, their entire set felt like scratching a giant itch you didn’t know you had. What a thrill it was to hear Peter Bauer’s mammoth basslines, and Walter Martin’s synths adding to the whirr and swirling noise of “All Hands And The Cook” and “Thinking Of A Dream I Had”, Maroon’s sharp tones, Barrick’s meaty, precise fills, and Leithauser’s desperate wail. We were “one of us” once again.

#the walkmen #metro #live music #lisbon #hamilton leithauser #matt barrick #paul maroon #jonathan fire*eater #the recoys #heaven #bob dylan #you & me #peter bauer #walter martin

[meisteralready]

To a man I will never really know but celebrate nonetheless

It feels like

We are at least an hour behind

In our spot,

The place we are

As opposed to Crystal Lake

Where we are supposed to be

For the funeral

Of Matt

My brother-in-law

That I barely know.

We’ve had numerous occasions,

Birthdays, first communions,

Other such family must-haves,

And beyond taking the piss out of each other,

Or the random, banal talk-of-sportstalk,

Nothing of note truly happened.

No histories shared

(I’ll most likely meet his three brothers today,

None of which I knew he had),

No common history or even hobbies

(He loved to cook and I loved to eat,

Yet I never saw him do the latter- he stood and surveyed as we would devour his holiday dinners-

Us standing in as his yearly restaurant)

But others knew him,

Knew him well.

He loves my sister,

The one I know least

(I left home when she was six

And stopped talking to that family for many years as she formed

- (I am like a distant cousin but with a past formed in grudges and regrets, even secondary relatives get more disjointed respect than I)-

And my parents loved him,

Contribution a cool 1K to his

GoFundMe/Funeral Fund,

Because he didn’t think to think ahead,

Even though he had a bad heart

And a pacemaker

And a defibrillator installed

For years before.

It was easy for Rich & Shelia to give,

They went to their house for countless dinners,

Gifted them hand-me-down, barely-used sectionals and plasma televisions.

They visited me in the city once,

Exactly one time,

On my daughter’s first birthday,

She’s 16 now

And she couldn’t give anyone who requested

their first names

If demanded to do so,

Even though they only live

An hour-and-fifteen-minutes

Away.

Matt died in his backyard,

Playing catch with his beloved retrievers?

Pinchers?

Some dog…

As my sister,

The youngest of my three,

And apparently the healthiest of cardiacs, shoveled the front drive

Because Matt could not.

Throw.

Vape.

Tell Bob the Dog to drop the ball.

Throw again.

Yet after a while,

Cara just heard unbroken barking,

And Bob,

Wanting a toss,

Could not be satiated,

And my sister,

Interest piqued,

Stopped her shoveling,

Rounded the corner

And found Matt face down,

Dead in their backyard.

A nurse by trade,

Cara quickly sought yet found no pulse,

His lips were blue

From death and snow,

She yelled for help and began CPR,

Eventually so heightened,

That she would fracture his sternum,

Trying to rouse him

From the other side.

“He was dead before he hit the ground,”

The cardiac surgeon told us.

His pacemaker lost rhythm,

His defibrillator fluttered and missed,

Both “common” the doctor said,

Which the rest of the family seemed to accept,

Except all I could think of,

Was which lawyer friend of mine I’d call

Regarding a malpractice inquiry.

We’ll land in about an hour-thirty,

And I’ll rent a car in my own home city,

Because I don’t own one

And no one can pick me,

And I could Uber,

But with that other one back to the airport,

A day-and-a-half later,

The car rental,

More-or-less equals out,

And I get more freedom.

I threw $100 towards the GoFundMeFuneral,

That’s all could do,

Because I am into this for $298 for the plane ticket,

$143 for the car rental,

Not including the gas,

Which, I know, sounds trite

And you should know

That I don’t care.

I’m kinda working for free this week

On account of these expenses

- no offers of a flight home here, $1K or otherwise-

And I will give due respects

And have appropriate amounts of grief,

Because I am fairly certain,

Matt would have probably done less for me and mine

Though he’d go on behalf of the bind shared of my cousin/sister,

But they’d leave early

For the fact,

He hardly knew me.

[unohanadaydreams]

As the name suggests, I'm always thirsty for the Big Guy 😉 I wonder how Kenpachi would react if Ikkaku found a piece of your lingerie in the barracks, but no one knew about your relationship?

The idea of Kenpachi being viewed as sus for fucking a 4th member fuels me so ofc. This got out of hand but I fully blame the energy IkkaYumi brings to anything ever and not myself. Thank you for understanding.

Features: smut (18+) at the mid-point, IkkaYumi being real <3 for the majority of it, and sub!Kenpachi (☆ω☆), also idk maybe some minor angst but like made Seggsy.

Kenpachi Zaraki x f!reader (and IkkaYumi...mostly them tbh.)

Ikkaku slapped the door open with loudest ‘OI’ he could muster. The paper of the door ripped somewhere along the way as it slid open, the wooden frame wobbling as he stepped into the room.

Despite the noise, Yumichika’s hand stayed steadfast as he finished smudging eye shadow on his outer lid. Another ‘OI’ sounded, but no hand shook him or foot kicked at him while Yumichika held a brush to his eye.

Glacial, he finished blending the color until he was satisfied--rinsed the brush--set it to dry. Through the mirror in front of him, Yumichika looked to Ikkaku’s reflection only after admiring his own.

The lacy scrap of undies in Ikkaku’s hand lifted Yumichika’s brow.

“I thought you hated when I wore those,” he said with a sniff, turning to get a better look.

Ikkaku rubbed at his bald head, “yah think that because I do.”

Yumichika gestured for the undies and Ikkaku threw them. “And yet?”

“Yet, I found ‘em anyway!” Ikkaku fell into a wide squat, his hands fisting into the fabric of his uniform over his knees. “In the captain’s office.”

They stared at one another, both settling deeper into their feelings.

“Ikkaku, you must be joking,” Yumichika said, holding the undies against his arm. “This color makes me look positively jaundiced.”

“You think captain gives a shit about color theory?”

Yumichika threw the lacy bit of bullshit at Ikkaku’s face. Smiling when they landed on his dumb, shiny head. “He won’t even let me do his hair, Ikkaku. Your delusion is exhausting me.”

“Then--”

“Yes, Ikkaku. Then, they’re not mine. And they’re someone else’s.”

Ikkaku pulled the undies from his head, squinting at them. “Huh.”

Rising with a flourish, Yumichika let the sleeves of his robe billow behind him as he went for the cabinet to rummage for sake. Possibly a new boyfriend.

He came back after a few gulps, offering Ikkaku the bottle only after giving him a sound kick to the head that sent the man flopping to the side.

“Hey!” Ikkaku steadied himself with one hand and rubbed where he’d been kicked with the other...undies still in hand. “Ya can’t blame me. No one else around here would wear that shit.”

Yumichika gave a flat look. Took another gulp of sake. Sighed heavily as he sank to Ikkaku’s level.

“Which means they belong to someone who would,” Yumichika offered along with the sake. “Someone from a different division.”

“Must be serious,” Ikkaku said, sake dribbling down his chin. “Never found anything in his office...ever.”

Yumichika kissed at the trail of sake and took the bottle back once he’d settled into Ikkaku’s lap. “That means whoever it is will be back. And now we know what to look for.”

Ikkaku grunted, shoving his tongue in Yumichika’s mouth before the man in his lap could swallow his sake, not pulling away until he’d swiped as much alcohol with his tongue as he could.

“That shit ain’t good enough for you, anyway.”

“I know,” Yumichika said softly, tone at odds with him rising to stand, heading for the door.

“O--” A raised hand stalled Ikkaku from pointing to his tightened hamaka.

“Fix my door first, dumbass.”

@

Ikkaku lowered from his tip-toes, a man afflicted. “No way.”

“I told you,” Yumichika said in a hiss. “Not just from 4th division, but a pencil pusher.”

You looked like the kind who’d scramble to bring an 11th division soldier any impossible request they bullied you for. The quintessential mouse every self-respecting soldier was inclined to paw at.

“Don’t look so fucking smug, Yumi,” Ikkaku grumbled, peeling off the wall and pulling Yumichika back towards the training grounds by the back of the puffed-up peacock’s uniform, right at the lower back. Yumichika had just gotten his fifth pay-back punch in when they hit the gate that separated captain’s estate from training ground.

Theirs might have been the only captain so enamored with battle that he’d moved his quarters as close as the captain general would allow. If it weren’t for the bullshit ‘housing codes and regulations’, Ikkaku was sure the house would’ve been on top of the large rectangle of packed dirt that served as the largest training ground in the entire division. 

Once they’d hopped the low wall, more meant to keep Zaraki’s house away from the grounds than to keep his underlings on the grounds away from him, Yumichika fell on the nearest bench to fix his uniform.

“Well now what?” Ikkaku rubbed at his side, knowing he was going to need to stretch soon or the tight knot Yumichika had punched into his side or even a night drowned in sake wouldn’t numb it when he collapsed in his futon.

Yumichika didn’t look up from retying his stiff, decorative obi but his face softened, “Now that we’ve been successfully nosy? I was thinking that new, chic sushi bar near the 1st. The one where all the wait-staff look just as yummy.”

“No I, mean--yeah, we’re definitely going,” Ikkaku said, his previous thought tripping over the vision of pretty smiles from androgynous beauties. “But, what do we do about the captain?”

“Well, I’m not going to say anything, but I also have tact. And grace,” Yumichika shrugged, fluffing the bow of obi.

Ikkaku kicked dirt and tensed forward at the shoulders, like he planned to lunge and attack. “I ain’t no fucking snitch and you know it. Don’tcha?”

Sliding forward, Yumichika massaged at Ikkaku’s tense shoulders, rolling his eyes. “I wasn’t saying you would. Just that you’re tactless. And might on accident--which makes you an idiot, not a snitch.”

“Damn right,” Ikkaku grunted, anything but Yumichika’s agreement sliding off his bald head like water. “Wouldn’t snitch for anything. But what if someone else finds out? Like a captain or something. We can’t kill one of them and--”

“Oh, stop worrying about it,” Yumichika said, interrupting and pulling at Ikkaku’s arm--he was hungry, both for refined food and beauties. “No one who wants to live will chance Kenpachi asking for a fight. Or that Captain Unohana; she seems vicious in a way more of our men should be. Such grace.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” Ikkaku nodded, letting himself be dragged off for sushi, sake, and sublime wait-staff. Still, there was morale to think about. No hardened warrior of the rukongai wanted to hear their fearless leader had a weakness for...the weak.

There had to be something more to it but Ikkaku wasn’t going to dig more into his captain’s business. He was more than happy to put the shovel down and follow Yumichika, even as the truth sat uncomfortably at the base of his skull.

@

You were weak in all the ways shinigami measured such things--swordsmanship, spiritual pressure, and kido were subjects you studied more than you practiced, let alone pulled off. But you had enough power to pass school and be sorted into the 4th division ranks, where you excelled.

An aptitude for medical procedure, surgery, and technology was what garnered you not just safety, but respect among your peers.

As for the other divisions? Well, you had some friends in 12th who fully understood your position.

Kenpachi Zaraki? Certainly wasn’t someone who could relate to you.

But, that was fine.

You preferred your men muzzled, anyway.

“Too bad, Cap--tain,” you breathed, stretching his title with your tongue playfully. “I was hoping they’d find out everything.”

Pulling yourself up, one fist over the other, by the leather leash tied taunt around Kenpachi’s neck, you delighted in seeing the muscles there strain to accommodate your weight and the need for breath at the same time.

You pressed your lips against his ear after admiring the rough line of his mouth being forcibly split open by a ball gang, pretty, pink, and yours. “Can’t you go faster?”

His answering grunt was followed by his body pressing into yours quick enough turn your teasing into moans. That’s what you liked most about Kenpachi; he was always striving to be better and exceeding expectation.

it would be effortless for him to put his hands on you without permission or rip out the ball gag, but he didn’t. Even when you met in a grimy bar close to the 11th, too drunk to realize who’s thigh you were toying with, his attention to what you wanted was surprising.

You panted, toes curling as he hit that lovely spot only he ever had, “H-hands on hips.”

So eager, he kneaded from the tops of your thighs to your hips like dough, obviously glad to be rewarded. You were eager too--for the angle. Your hips tilted upward gave him more depth and your fingers tightened on his leash.

There was no need to command for more, because he was giving you his all. And he kept going until your scattered breathing paired with the tight heat he was pounding into you snapped all at once, so intense that your eyes watered.

While you basked in the trembling after shocks, catching your breath, Kenpachi went still.

Until you said, “Sit on floor.”

The bed creaked and rose as he left it, leaving you to collect yourself in peace. When you rose to sit, he was kneeling on the floor, his cock hard and bobbing above his thighs.

You walked to him slow, nails scratching through his rough, black hair as you circled behind him. “Such good work,” you praised, “Just like always.”

Trailing down to the buckle, your fingers made quick of his ball gag, parting it from his teeth gently, and tossing it on the bed.

“What do you want me to reward you with, Kenpachi?” You asked him, only once you’d come to face him, your hand urging his jaw up, his eyes on yours.

“To get off,” he said, shameless.

You hummed, “then do it.”

Frowning, Kenpachi leaned his face into your touch. “I want you to.....please.”

The word ‘please’ was said slow, his eyes leaving yours several times before he said it. You wondered how many people Kenpachi Zaraki had ever asked, for anything. Let alone, with manners.

You kissed his nose, finding the almost demure behavior cute, “Then I will. Lay down.”

He did, his arms behind his head, like he napping under a tree instead of waiting for your hands to give his weeping cock relief.

You took your time, teasing him with sensation by spitting into your hand and giving him light rubs, again and again until his hips lifted off the ground.

The lacy bit of pink undies that stretched tight over his thighs, were yours too. And you peeled them off, throwing them toward the ball gag as his breathing grew heavy in the air.

Perhaps you deserved less teasing, but you couldn’t resist dragging out the fun a touch more, one hand fondling his tightening balls while the other scratched lightly at his inner thighs.

His breathing was catching on groans and audible ‘ah’s that had you biting your lip. Thigh’s clenching, you finally began circling the tip of his cock. Soon, you were giving him his first pump, slick hand trailing his length from tip to base in smooth, steady motions.

Straddling his thighs, you took advantage of the position and put both your hands to work, gripping him harder but keeping the same pace.

“Look how hard you are,” you cooed, hands pausing as your thumb circled the slit topping the bulbous head of his cock. “Do you want to cum for me?”

His, “yes,” was immediately pushed from his heaving chest. You hummed, so tempted to climb on top of him fully. But, that would be a kind of weakness you didn’t allow yourself.

Kenpachi’s lone eye struggled to stay open as you lowered your lips to kiss the tip of him. You rose back up and licked them as he watched, his pre-cum salty as it settled on your tongue.

You couldn’t call him unraveling under your firm, fast touch seeing him at his weakest. But, you were certain it was a kind of vulnerable he seldom experienced. Even his arms had come from behind his head, his fingers flexing around air while he struggled to keep them away from you. His hips began bucking with such strength that you were forced to tighten your thighs around his to keep your place.

Desperate, is what he was. For you to give him what he worked for.

And, you did.

His cock pulsed as you wrung his orgasm out, thick ropes of cum falling over his sweaty stomach and dripping down your hands. His moan was loud, deep, and reverberated through out the room like a cry of victory.

You kept stroking him until he was completely spent, until he made a sound almost like a whine.

“I need--”

He sat up, setting you on the floor before padding to the bathroom, and coming back with a damp cloth. “Here.”

“Thank you,” you said, keeping your eyes on your hands as you willed yourself to calm down. His orgasm had made you want him again, badly. But you had things to do. He had things to do.

What you had with Kenpachi was strange and tenuous. And your smug confidence drained a bit as you cleaned yourself and him, until you were almost unsure.

What now? You’d never even seen his house before this. Always in more public places, where you parted almost immediately after playing with him.

“You want these back,” he asked, lifting the ball gag and undies in one hand while pulling back the blankets on the bed with the other. The leash was already on the bedside table, his neck angrily red still.

If you took them, you wondered if it was all over. “No, you should. They’re easy enough to clean.”

“...You sure?”

You nodded, not so attached to a couple cheap props that you’d be wounded if something happened to them. “They’re all yours.”

Shrugging after a moment of silence, he gestured with his head to the bed, “unless you wanna take a shower first.”

“I’m fine for now,” you responded, climbing under the blanket, more confused than obedient. “Are you tired?”

“Enough to sleep.”

The bed dipped from his bulk, forcing you closer. He tossed an arm around you, so you could get comfortable against his side. You lay your head on his chest, eyes still open, listening to him breathe.

At first, you’d thought maybe it was all a joke. That Kenpachi Zaraki was trying to trap you into....something, like those men who feigned nice before using all their muscle to force you to bend as they wanted. To teach you a lesson for trying to dominate him.

You didn’t delude yourself into thinking you had real, tangible power of him or any man you’d toyed with, after all. Just something momentary, like a brief understanding.

But you felt less cautious as your eyes drooped shut and your thoughts circled around his intentions. He always approached you and asked, vague and gruff, ‘here good?’ And you’d find a closet or office or twisty alley that would do.

This time, you asked him. And he took you to his bedroom, compliant as ever, waiting for you to sprinkle nice words in his ear, for you to give him pleasure for being his best.

Drifting off to the rise and fall of his chest, you wondered if things like that meant so much to him.

#this is very lightly edited bc im so short on time lately #but this was fun #kenpachi zaraki smut #kenpachi zaraki x reader #kenpachi zaraki #bleach sm #bleach imagines #bleach scenario #zaraki-oriented #kenpachi: i like being praised and having someone acknowledge me #reader: wait....is this....kind of depressing and not just kinky? #but fr i just think dommed kenpachi is hot and i can not resist sprinkling crumbs of angst

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

An imagine for adeuce please! They hang out someplace in their hometown during vacation but awkwardly run into crewel. I think treys family bakery would be a nice location but the setting is your choice in case you want to limit the dialogue and number of characters

Ps. I personally feel like the game needs more interactions between the students and teachers. Hopefully we can get more in the new event

Teacher-student interactions are so much fun! We definitely got more from Vargas Camp (which I’m really thankful for), and I hope we keep getting more!

So far, my favorite teacher-student dynamic has been Vargas and Azul. I’d feel bad for octoboi if I wasn’t laughing so hard at his flying fails--

I really liked this prompt, so I wrote more than my usual ~1000 word imagine; please enjoy!

***Mild spoilers for chapter 4!***

Imagine this...

The Rose Kingdom was aptly named for the flowers that bloomed in nearly every corner of its land. In the summer time, they blossomed magnificently, perfuming the warm air with their heady aroma—but in the winter, those delicate rosebuds were banished by a spell of frost. Without fail, a great cold would wash over the region every year, casting their famous red flowers in a thick layer of white.

It was a pattern that the kingdom’s residents had long since grown accustomed to. This was, after all, their beloved home—amid the roses, frozen as they were.

“Oi, Deuce! Hurry it up, will you?!” Ace called, tossing an annoyed glance over his shoulder.

His friend—wearing so many layers that he resembled a moving blueberry more than a human—lagged several paces behind.

Deuce attempted to return the sass, but his words caught in the scarf bound tightly around his mouth, coming out muffled instead. The puffball on his winter hat furiously bobbed up and down, as though communicating his frustration for him.

“If we don’t pick up the pace, they’re gonna sell out of hot chocolate and fresh pastries!” Ace rushed back, grabbed Deuce by the arm, and tugged. “C’mon!! I thought you were in Track and Field Club or something—so let’s get moving!”

Deuce loosened his scarf with his free hand and, glaring at Ace, declared, “No way am I running with the roads this icy. That’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Hah? You serious? I already got wasted enough time waiting for you to dress in your 101 layers of coats,” Ace grumped, gesturing to Deuce’s ridiculous outfit. “It can’t hurt to be a little quicker about it.”

“Mom wanted me to stay warm,” Deuce countered stiffly. “I’m gonna respect that, no matter what.”

Ace rolled his eyes and waves dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, whatever—enough talk, we really gotta get going...!! I’ll be damned if I freeze out here.”

“The Clover Bakery isn’t that far from here, so we don’t need to rush.” Deuce indicated a warm building at the end of the block, which gave off delicious fumes—spun sugar, baked bread, and spices. “Slow and steady wins the race.”

Ace groaned loudly. At this rate, it would take all day for them to waddle on over. He was about to bury his head in his hands when an idea dawned on him.

A mean, but clever, idea.

“Betcha I could make it there faster than you,” Ace chirped, his voice casual.

“It’s not a competition,” Deuce reminded him sternly.

“No one said it was, dummy! I’m just saying I could definitely beat you at your own game.”

“Tough words for someone shaking like a leaf in the cold.”

“Oh yeah?” Ace’s grin was wicked. “Prove me wrong, then.”

“I don’’t have to prove anything. It’d be dangerous to run in this weather, anyway.”

“I bet it’s way more snowy in Pyroxene—and Jack’s probably totally fine with running through it!”

“That’s Jack, and this is me. I said I wasn’t going to rush things, and I meant it.”

“Yeah? Too bad~” The redhead gave an exaggerated sigh and a shrug. “Backing out, huh...? Oh well. Guess if you snooze, you lose...!!”

“Hey, I never said...” Deuce’s voice trailed off, for Ace had shoved by him, darting off in the direction of the bakery. “H-Hey...!! Ace...!! ACE!! GET BACK HERE!!”

He tore after his friend, shouting at him all the while—and Ace, with his (cheating) head start, only laughed in return. Deuce soon caught up (no thanks to his club conditioning), and they were neck-and-neck for first place.

Windchill, knives upon their faces. The biting cold seeped into their lungs, making it hurt to breathe as they hurtled toward their destination. Yet they sailed on, determined to outdo the other.

Both boys launched themselves at the bakery entrance, grasping the handle at the same time.

“EXCUSE US!!” Ace and Deuce yelled in unison, yanking open the door (struggling to cram through the doorway at the same time) and stumbling in.

They were greeted by a blast of warmth and the smells of sweet cakes and toasted breads. The employee manning the counter glanced up, startled at the duo’s sudden appearance. When he saw who it was that had barged in, he sighed and calmly readjusted his glasses.

He looked a little different than usual, wearing a white shirt with green plaid that showed off his broad shoulders. The sleeves were rolled up to reveal thick forearms forged from years of lifting flour sacks and kneading dough. A brown apron was slung over his attire, four-leafed clovers sewn on the pockets.

“If it isn’t Ace and Deuce. How are the two troublemakers of Heartslabyul doing?” Trey asked, his smile lopsided as his underclassmen approached.

“A-Are we really troublemakers in your eyes, Clover-senpai?!”

“I’m just kidding,” he reassured Deuce. “Well, you are troublemakers, but more for Riddle than for me.”

“Geez... thanks for the vote of confidence...” Ace grumbled, casting the third year a cheeky look. “Some senpai you are, huh?”

“Now, now... I’m allowed to have some fun, aren’t I? We’re all ‘off-duty’, so to speak.” Trey said light heartedly. “Anyway, what brings you guys to the Clover Bakery? I’m assuming you’re not dropping by just to say hello.”

“Hehe. Obviously we’re hungry, so we came by for some grub!” Ace held up his index finger. “One large hot chocolate, and a plate of assorted butter cookies for me!”

“I’m okay with a small spiced apple cider,” Deuce chimed in, “please and thank you.”

“Gotcha. I’ll get you your drinks in a bit,” Trey nodded, “but as for the butter cookies, I’m afraid I won’t be able to sell those to you.”

“Huh?” Ace’s face collapsed. “Why not?”

“We’ve only got a few dozen left, and they’re reserved for a client that preordered them. Sorry.” Trey pointed to a neatly wrapped box already set upon the counter, done up in a bright green bow.

Through the plastic window in the box, Ace could see that the cookies had been converted into little sandwiches. Each pair housed a generous dollop of cream, caramelized raisins threaded throughout it.

“What? Who needs that many butter cookies? And why are there gross raisins in them--“

The door to the bakery flung open, summoning a gale of cold once more. A bell suspended above jingled, ringing in a new customer.

“Ah, speak of deville the devil,” Trey said—while his underclassmen balked in terror.

There, in the doorway, was a tall man in black faux leather gloves and a voluminous fur coat—striped, black and white. Beneath that, he boasted a crimson turtle neck and a blazer, half solid white, the other half a black , checkerboard pattern. This, paired with his slicked back hair, steely eyes, and regal face, made him appear as though he had just strutted off the runway, were it not for the leashes he gripped.

Two Dalmatians—one in a blue coat, the other in a red one—stood alert by his feet. They caught Ace and Deuce’s eyes and barked in greeting, but the two boys were far too fixated on the Dalmatians’ owner to gush over dogs.

“Crewel...”

“... Sensei?”

Ace and Deuce glanced to one another, then back at their Alchemy teacher.

“C-CREWEL-SENSEI?!”

“Wh-What’re you doing here?!” Ace demanded, pointing an accusatory finger. “School’s out for winter break...!! You... You didn’t hunt us down to make us do our homework, did you?!”

Crewel snorted. “Spare me your theatrics, Trappola. Your instructors are granted a vacation for the duration of winter break as well. Were you not aware?”

“I-I knew that! I just didn’t know you lived in the Rose Kingdom, too!”

“I thought teachers lived at school...”

“... Seriously, Deuce?!”

“The more you know.” Crewel narrowed his eyes at Ace. “But speaking of homework, I trust you pups are keeping on top of your assignments? Being on break is no excuse to slack on your studies.”

“D-Duh! Of course I haven’t been slacking!” A lie, Ace grimaced, thinking to the piles of homework he had abandoned in his bedroom in favor of hanging out with friends. Whatever, he could just pester his brother for help later. “Right, Deuce? Back me up here!”

“I’ve been diligently studying and working on my homework bit by bit every day, Crewel-sensei!”

“... But have you done it accurately?” Crewel asked, raising an eyebrow. “Simply writing down an answer does not guarantee full marks, Spade.”

“... Errrrrr, okay, maybe I need to work on it a little more.”

“You’ve got your notes and a reliable Science Club member to count on for assistance,” Crewel quipped, gesturing to Trey with a gloved hand. “There is no excuse for why you should not do well. That goes for you as well, Trappola.”

“Y-Yessir!”

“Crewel-sensei, I think that’s enough interrogation,” Trey called, waving for him to come to the counter. Outwardly, he wore a smile, but inwardly, he sighed. For the love of the Great Seven, don’t offer my help for me. “Here, I have your order prepared--oh, but be sure to keep your dogs at the doorway. No pets allowed beyond a certain threshold for health and safety reasons.”

“I am aware, yes.” Crewel’s eyes passed over to the two scared stiff underclassmen. “... Trappola, Spade--come here. Do your professor a favor and tend to my Dalmatians for me.”

“What? You want us to watch your dogs?”

“I’ll do my best, Sensei!!”

“Don’t just blindly agree to it, Deuce!”

“It will only be for a moment,” Crewel insisted, shoving his leashes into Ace and Deuce’s hands. The boys fumbled, but held firm--the Dalmatians eagerly staring up at them.

“... Oi, don’t give me those looks,” Ace grumbled. “You’re... You’re too cute looking and innocent to be Crewel-sensei’s pets.”

The dog in the red coat gave a happy bark, as if pleased with the compliment. Its partner, in the blue coat, panted with delight as Deuce gave it a firm head pat.

Crewel received the box of raisin butter cookies--but allowed his eyes to quickly a scan the glass display case as he strode up. “Do you have dog treats in stock as well?”

“We do.”

“Then add two to my total, please--peanut butter flavor.”

“Alright, you’ve got it.” Trey ducked, retrieved a pair of tongs, and fished out two bone-shaped biscuits. He dropped them into a paper bag and handed them over to his teacher. “That’ll be--”

He was cut off by several bills being fanned out on the counter.

“I’ve ordered enough from your bakery to know the general prices,” Crewel smirked, tucking his wallet away into his massive fur coat. “If there is a discrepancy, you may keep the change.”

“Ah, thanks for that. Hope you and the dogs enjoy--” Trey paused, cut off this time by the sound of several small footsteps from the back room of the bakery. He groaned, already knowing what was coming. “Oh no...”

“Trey-nii!!” A chorus of high-pitched voices piped up, startling Ace and Deuce. “We heard bark-barks!! Did Mr. Fluffy Coat bring back his doggies?”

Three heads of green hair poked above the counter--just barely. One girl and two boys, probably elementary school age, all of them sharing Trey’s mustard yellow eyes.

“Guys, not now. Big bro’s busy with the customers,” Trey warned. He passed an apologetic look to his underclassmen and teacher. “Sorry, my siblings are excitable sometimes.”

“I wanna pet the doggies!”

“I wanna feed’m snackies!”

“I wanna dress them up!”

To the boys’ surprise, Crewel merely chuckled. “No worries. Fellow canine lovers are always welcome.”

“Mr. Fluffy Coat!! Can we feed your doggies?”

“Pretty please with candied violets on top!”

“Please, please, please!!”

Crewel barked with laughter. “Perhaps I can allow it, little ones--permitted that your brother grants his permission.”

All three Clover siblings looked expectantly at their eldest sibling.

Trey heaved a sigh. “... I guess I’ve got no choice. Go ahead.”

Excited squeals filled the interior of the bakery. The Clover siblings nearly tripped over themselves racing over to Crewel’s dogs (they nearly trampled Ace and Deuce’s feet, too).

“Hey, watch it! We’re the ones babysitting these dogs, not you!” Ace cried as the kids descended on the Dalmatians. I’ve only had these dogs for five minutes but if anything happened to them, I’d kill everyone here and then--

“We can share, Ace!”

“Spade is correct. There is plenty of the pups to go around,” Crewel interjected. He produced two dog treats and broke them into smaller pieces, offering them to Ace, Deuce, and the Clover siblings. “Go on, then. One for each of you to feed them.”

The Clovers cheered and eagerly claimed their pieces, holding them out and allowing each Dalmatian to sniff and lick the treats straight out of their palms. As soon as the food was slurped up, the Clovers proceeded to vigorously pet the pups. But the first years hesitated.

“You’re... being awfully nice,” Ace noted, eying him suspiciously. “Are you gonna spring a pop quiz on us as soon as I take the treat?”

“Keep biting the hand that feeds you, and I just might consider it,” Crewel warned with a dark smirk.

“W-We’ll take the treats!” Deuce snatched up two pieces, shoving one into Ace’s hands. “Come on, let’s not worry too much. We’re on winter break, after all. Let’s just relax while we still can.”

“You’re right, you’re right! Let’s not sweat it!”

They exchanged a brief laugh before kneeling and offering up their own dog treat pieces to the Dalmatians. Just as the dogs’ sloppy, wet tongues connected with the boys’ hands, their cell phones went off.

“... Huh? Did you just get a text, Deuce?”

“I think I did. I heard your phone ping too, though. Did you get a text too?”

“I can check. One sec...” With his free hand, Ace fished his phone out of his coat pocket and consulted it. He immediately paled. “Oh, shit.”

(“Hey, language!” Trey shouted--but his protest seemingly went ignored.)

“What’s wrong?” Deuce asked, frowning.

“Check your phone. Check it right now.”

“Is it something seri...” Deuce’s face dropped as soon as he looked at his messages. “Fuck.”

(“I said, language!” Trey tried again, only to be snubbed a second time.)

The distressing text they had received?

SOS SEND HE LP STRAND ED D IN SCAR ABIA CANT GET OUT - Yuu, Grim

Ace and Deuce abruptly stood and bolted toward the exit, much to everyone’s surprise. They paid no mind to the concerned shouts of Trey, nor Crewel, or to the excited barks of Dalmatians no longer held by leashes.

All that remained of where the duo once stood were soggy, half-finished peanut butter dog treats.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Ace Trappola #Deuce Spade #Divus Crewel #Trey Clover #disney twisted wonderland #imagine this #twisted wonderland requests #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #spoilers

[storiesforallfandoms]

like i’m gonna lose you ~ machine gun kelly

part one

word count: 2276

request?: kind of?

description: after a painful reconnection, he decides to prove to her that he will do anything to get her back

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing

based (partially) on this song

masterlist

As he promised, the news of Colson and Megan’s “breakup” came a few days after our discussion. The news broke first on an few online tabloids, then Colson took to his social media to “confirm the rumors”.

“We’re just not right for one another,” he wrote in his post. “I still love Megan as a friend, and we’re going to stay in each other’s life. We both want our privacy during this time.”

Strangely enough, the conversation we had plus the actual confirmation that the fake relationship was over gave me a better sense of closure than our actual breakup had. I knew why Colson had ended things, and I knew that what he had with Megan wasn’t real and that it was over for good now. It was better than thinking he had suddenly stopped loving me after all those years.

Even with that closure, though, I stayed true to my word. Colson unblocked me and re-followed me on all his social media, and let me know he had unblocked my number from his phone by sending me a text. But I wouldn’t budge on trying to get back together with him. With the closure I had, I was starting to feel like I could move on from our breakup and be somewhat happy again.

It was hard to completely move on, though, when Colson was still trying to reach out to me constantly. He respected my boundaries and would stop whenever I asked him to, but it also didn’t take too long before he would message me again. Part of me wanted to block him back - it would’ve been beyond satisfying to reverse the roles on him and leave him blocked and heartbroken without explanation. But I was also enjoying getting to talk to him again, even if I knew it would lead to more heartbreak eventually.

The day I arrived home from work to find him sat on my doorstep, I felt something snap inside of me. The built up anger and sadness from the past year was finally bubbling over, and I had the exact person who had caused it all sat on my doorstep.

I got out of my car and slammed the door so hard I was shocked the windows didn’t shatter. “Colson, you can’t just fucking show up on my doorstep unannounced. This is borderline stalking now.”

“I want to talk like adults but you just keep brushing me off,” he retorted. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“Respect my fucking boundaries maybe? Realize that if I’m telling you that I don’t want to talk to you or see you that I actually fucking mean it?”

He stood from the doorstep and shoved his hands in his pocket. “I know that you mean it.”

I glared at him as I tried to shove past him to get through my door. He moved to stand in my way again, which just made me feel even more angry.

“If you know that I mean it,” I hissed, “then leave me the fuck alone Colson. You’ve hurt me enough, I don’t want to see you anymore.”

“I know I hurt you,” he said. “And I know that there’s nothing I can do to fix that, but please, let me try at least.”

“You did try, and I turned you down, remember? Now fuck off.”

I managed to push him out of my way in order to get into the house. He stood on my doorstep watching me for some time, and I knew that meant he wasn’t going away. No matter how hard I wanted to let him go, I knew my heart wasn’t going to let me. I sighed heavily and turned to face him.

“This is your last chance,” I told him. “You can come in and we can talk like adults, but just know that whatever decision I make after this is my final decision. No more of this harassing me and showing up on my doorstep. If I tell you to leave and you show up again I will call the cops on you, and I have a feeling that’s the last thing your manager wants.”

Colson nodded and followed me into my house.

I watched as he looked around, taking in the familiar place that he once called a second home. Very little had changed since we broke up, except for the fact that I got rid of all the pictures I had of the two of us. I was sure he had noticed that.

“Your place was always so much cozier than mine,” he commented.

“It’s cause it’s smaller,” I told him. “Your place is good for all the people you have over, but when it’s just you and Casie it’s far too big.”

“It is,” he agreed. “I would prefer to live in a place like this.”

“You could’ve,” I found myself muttering. Unfortunately, I said it a little too loud and Colson caught the comment. His face changed then, a sad wave washing over him.

“I should’ve,” he said. “God, I’m a fucking idiot.”

“We’ve been over that.”

He followed me to the kitchen and sat down at my table. Despite it only being early evening, I decided this moment called for a glass of wine. I poured myself one, and decided to mix Colson a drink with the liquor I knew he liked most.

“Saying I didn’t mean to hurt you is the stupidest thing ever,” he said after taking a giant gulp from the glass. “Of course I was going to hurt you. I broke up with you out of nowhere and then just ghosted you for a year. I guess...I thought that would be easier. I didn’t want you to think I didn’t love you enough to fight for you over my career.”

“I’m glad you realize how shitty and stupid that idea you had was. I wish you would’ve told me from the start what the plan was. I wouldn’t have been as hurt if you had.”

“I know...I know.”

I took a sip of my wine and immediately wished it was something stronger, something that would get me fucked up within minutes of drinking it.

I was mentally kicking myself for letting him back in again. That time at the coffee shop hurt enough and that was an accidental encounter we had. But to actually bring him into my home when I was finally starting to move on? I must really like to be hurt, because it seemed as though I was constantly trying to hurt myself lately.

“What would you have said if I had told you?” he asked. “Truthfully.”

I took a moment to think the situation over, to try and decide how I would’ve reacted if he had told me from the beginning instead of just breaking my heart.

“I still would’ve been hurt,” I admitted. “Not by you but by your manager. He knew about us, and even though we never went public with the relationship, my friends and family know. It wouldn’t exactly have been as easy to explain the whole publicity stunt relationship thing to any of them. I’d probably try to come up with a better solution, and if that didn’t work then...I’d just have to accept it.”

“Would you have stayed with me?”

I was shocked by his question. “Of course I would’ve. Everything between you and Megan was fake, there were no real feelings. Sure, seeing the pictures and everything would’ve hurt, but at the end of the day it would be me you were holding and kissing and actually loving. I probably could’ve been friends with Megan instead of hating her guts.”

Colson looked down at his glass, which was now almost empty. “I thought you would’ve broken up with me if I told you the truth.”

“You don’t know me that well, obviously,” I said. “Colson, there were ways around this. You didn’t have to break my heart.”

I could see that his eyes were starting to become more wet with tears. He was trying to hide them, but once his eyes starting welling up, his nose and his cheeks became flush and I could see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to swallow his tears.

“I fucking hate him, man,” he finally said, his voice cracking slightly. “He’s supposed to help me with my career, not put my career first over my own life and my happiness. And I hate myself too for thinking the best way to deal with this was to break up with you completely.”

I sat back in my chair, unsure of what to do. I wanted to comfort him, of course, but I didn’t want him to think that crying was going to get him off the hook. I was glad he was feeling my pain, but fuck did I ever hate to see Colson cry.

“I hated you, too,” I admitted. “I slandered your name to anyone who would listen. Eventually my friends got sick of hearing the name Colson Baker come out of my mouth, but they all knew how hurt I was.”

“Do you still hate me?”

I shook my head. “No. I never truly hated you. I just wanted to hate you, because hating you was easier than still being in love with you and watching you fall in love with someone else.”

He started to reach for my hands, but pulled away just as quickly. He sat back in his own chair, putting as much space between the two of us as possible. “There could never be anyone else. You’re my one and only, (Y/N), you always have been.”

I let the silence wash over the two of us. I wanted to let his words hang over us, to try and digest them and decide how I felt in that moment.

“I had a dream while you were on tour,” I said after a moment. “Well, a nightmare really. We had fallen asleep watching TV on the couch, and when I woke up I couldn’t find you. You weren’t in the house, you weren’t answering your phone, none of your friends or Casie knew where you were. I began to panic. I went driving and drove the entirety of Cleveland looking for you, but I couldn’t find you. Around the end of the dream, I was screaming your name and I could hear you calling back to me, but the more I ran to find you the further away you got. I eventually woke up drenched in sweat and crying because I thought it was real.”

“That was the night you called me,” he said. “I remember I was having a bad night mentally and all I wanted was to have you on the tour bus with me, in my arms. Then you called, and I thought it was like...a sign or something. Something good.”

I couldn’t help but smile at this. “I never told you because I thought it was a stupid nightmare, and I didn’t wanna be one of those girlfriends that calls in need of constant reassurance about their relationship.”

“I would’ve reassured you no matter how many times you called me.”

I looked down at my own glass, nearly empty as well.

“Can we ever go back from this?” Colson asked. “Can we try to start over after what happened?”

“How do you start over after spending five years with someone?” I asked. “We were basically married, how do you just go back to square one after that?”

“Well...you try and gain that trust back, then you try and get things back to how they were before,” he explained. “I don’t expect it to happen overnight, but I can’t be without you anymore (Y/N). It’s driving me crazy, you drive me crazy.”

I felt tears stinging my eyes, and I realized in that moment that Colson was now freely crying in front of me. God, we were both just messes. I wished none of this had ever happened.

“You really hurt me,” I said, my voice just barley a whisper.

“I know,” he said. “I know I did. I don’t expect you to ever forget that. I don’t deserve to be forgiven, I know that.”

“I’ll never forget it,” I confirmed. “But knowing the reasoning makes it easier to forgive.”

When he reached for my hand this time, I met him halfway.

“It won’t be easy,” I told him. “You know that, right? I’m not going to come running into your arms again after a few nights. You have to work for this, Colson.”

“I know,” he repeated. “I’ll do anything, (Y/N).”

Despite my better judgement, I sat forward and looked into his eyes. God, I loved those beautiful blue eyes more than anything in this world.

“You can start by kissing me.”

He nearly jumped over the table at this. He took my face in his hands and pressed my lips against his. I had missed this feeling so much; the pure passion that came with every kiss. I put a hand behind his neck to keep him close. I never wanted to let go ever again.

He pulled away first and rested his forehead against mine. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

“I don’t want to hear those words out of your mouth ever again,” I told him. “We’re forgetting this, remember?”

He smiled. “Okay, then how about these words: I love you.”

I couldn’t help but smile back. The magic words I had longed to hear for so long, they sounded so right coming from his lips. “I love you, too.”

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #like i'm gonna lose you #meghan trainor

[ellitx]

helpppppp i read that scenario of reader sleeping over, and I couldn’t help but imagine that they all share the same room when that is. Also what do you think the twins would do to get readers attention over the other?

Im gonna set this back when you’re in the middle school or something.

masterlist

fluff

word count: 1.6k

You and the twins are already comfortable with laying on each other’s bed whenever you/they visit. Your mother, Amos, even brings snacks to your room for them to eat and she always gets excited whenever they come to your house.

She’s even the one who insisted if you wanna invite them for a sleepover! Your father, Decarabian, always disapproves whenever you ask him if you can sleep at the twin’s house. (Also because uncle Andrius is there and he doesn't want you to get close to him)

Himmel and Venti were having friendly bickering and thinking over what gift they should give to your mother as thanks for welcoming them in. Amos accepts anything! She really appreciates they’ve put an effort to do it but later on, feels guilty and that they didn’t have to do it.

Speaking of gifts, your birthday is almost coming. Himmel and Venti thought at the same time. And while Aunt Amos is here...

You already know that they also have the same idea to ask your mother what you would like to have as a gift but have different methods to approach her.

It was Himmel who first asked aunt Amos about it. Well... not really her but someone else. It was after dinner and he decided to help her out and the maids in cleaning the dishes. He was really nervous and shy to ask her. Is it really alright if he questions aunt Amos what are your favorites? Will she get disappointed that he doesn’t know what your likes and dislikes are for the entire years he grew up with you?

Himmel sighed and continues to wipe the dishes with a dry cloth and puts them inside their respective racks.

“Master Himmel is everything alright?” A maid suddenly asked in concern, surprising him.

“We can handle everything here. If you’re getting tired, we’ve already prepared and tidied the room as what the Young Mistress has ordered.” She continued. The boy blinked before shaking his head and giving a soft smile to her way.

“Oh please don’t worry about me! I’m just thinking about something.” His attention was back on the ceramic plate and he carefully does dry it.

“Is it perhaps the Young Mistress’s birthday is coming soon?”

Himmel almost dropped the plate if it were not for him to quickly regain his balance and tightly hold on to it for dear life. He looked at the maid in utter shock, his face was scribbled with bafflement and embarrassment as he owlishly blinked at her.

Was he really that obvious the maid managed to point out his current problems right on spot? Well, It’s better to talk to her about this right? She knows you more than him after all.

Himmel nodded and set his gaze on the plate, mirroring his appearance.

“What do you think [Name] would like to receive as a gift?” He muttered under his breath as heat began to crawl up to his face up to the tip of his ears.

“Young Mistress’s favorite?” The maid echoed. She then placed her gloved hands to her chin, deep in thought.

“I’m sure she’d love anything as long as it’s from you. It’s the thought that counts, is it not?” She said before turning off the faucet to avoid wasting water.

Himmel was quiet for a minute.

Anything, huh?

—

Venti would directly ask Aunt Amos what gift you would like when she was preparing night snacks for the three of you. The younger twin snuck out of the room and left you and Himmel alone to play some video games.

As much as he’d hate not being included there and missing out on the fun, the most important matter right now is the gift you’ll get for your day of birth!

“Aunt Amos! Aunt Amos!” Venti cried and slammed the door open to where the kitchen is. The said woman shrieked at the sudden intrusion and looked over her shoulder to see the culprit behind her almost heart attack.

“Venti... goodness you gave me a fright there.” Amos chuckled and continued to prep up an iced tea.

“Aunt Amos, I wanna ask you something!” He said and leaned over the counter to take a peek at what she’s doing.

She stopped whatever she’s doing and wiped her hands with her apron before setting her focus on the short male.

“What is it?”

Venti walked back and cleared his throat behind his fist as if he were going to make a speech.

“A man is sitting in a pub feeling rather poor. He sees the gentleman next to him pull a bag of 100 Mora out of his pocket.

He turns to the rich man and says to him,

'I have an amazing talent; I know almost every song that has ever existed.'

The rich man laughs.

The poor man says, 'I am willing to bet you all the money you have in your wallet that I can sing a genuine song with a lady's name of your choice in it.'

The rich man laughs again and says, 'OK, how about my daughter's name, [Name]?'

The rich man goes home poor. The poor man goes home rich.

What song did he sing?”

Venti ended his riddle with a smile at the woman. Amos seemed to be contemplating his question very well and it’s not often she gets to participate in his brain-teasers. So this is very much a surprise for her.

Well, enough about that, she has to answer this quickly and she doesn’t want to make him wait for her longer. Going back to his riddle, was the rich man supposed to be her husband? Venti did mention your name when the poor man asked the rich man.

A song that has your name...

“Is it Happy Birthday?” She answered.

“Bing bong!” Venti’s fingers were formed to an okay sign and gave her a big grin.

“Knowing the answer is Happy Birthday, I suppose you’re also going to ask me about [Name]’s gift, am I correct?”

Venti let out a hearty laugh and winked at her. “Correct once again, Miss Amos!”

“Sooo...” He held on to the chair’s backrest and gave her the best puppy eyes he could muster to get another answer from her.

“Please please please please tell me what [Name] would like— no, LOVE to get on her birthday!!” He begged and clasped his hands together as if he was praying to a god.

“Now, now, isn’t that cheating? Your brother never asked me about this so isn’t it fair for you if you guess as well?” She remarked as she arranged the brownies on the plates.

“Wait— Himmel didn’t ask you?!”

Oh, how foolish he was to think the older twin actually asked your mother. Was he thinking too much when Himmel helped her out in cleaning the table? Perhaps yes, perhaps not. Or maybe Aunt Amos is hiding something that even she cannot tell the hidden secret to him?

“Well, I suppose I can give you a hint on what it is.” Amos motioned for him to come closer in which Venti quickly obeyed. Venti took note of all the words left from her lips in his head and is beginning to plan out events on the next days before your birthday.

His smile was brighter than the sun in this nightly hour and his eyes sparkled in excitement and joy. Even though her hint lacks information and clues he could deduct, he at least speculated it must be that item!

“Thank you, Miss Amos! That’s already a good hint for me! Now if you excuse me, I suppose we can eat this already...?” He sheepishly asked as he looked on the tray placed with a pile of brownies on a plate, a pitcher of iced tea, and three tall fragile glasses.

“I was about to ask you if you can bring it to the room. Be careful not to trip on your way!” The young male bobbed his head and picked up the tray with his two hands.

“Will do! And thank you for the snacks again!” And then off he goes, his slippers slapping against the tiled floor to make his way back to the shared room.

Amos watched his form disappear before her eyes flicked to the doorframe. A small smile appeared on her lips and crossed her arms over her chest.

“You can come out now, dear.” She said. A good minute of silence was only present in the kitchen before a tall man stepped out of the darkness, sighing heavily as he threw her a look of disappointment.

“Did that little rascal really have to use me in his riddles?” He groaned before taking a look over the leftover pieces of brownies.

“What? It’s kind of amusing and smart to do it. I’ll give him kudos for that.” Amos opened her lips and popped in small bits of the dessert in her mouth to take a taste of it.

“Hmph,” Decarabian huffed as he poured a drink to the glass.

“And let me guess that Himmel also asked you about [Name]’s birthday?” He almost spat out his drink when his wife mentioned the name of your friend. It would be a waste if he did that and he doesn’t like to cause a mess in this area already.

“I told you he’s a good kid. You just have to get rid of that frown of yours and your authoritative aura. Himmel’s always doing his best and now he even had the courage to approach and ask you.”

Decarabian could only stand still and remain silent as he sipped his drink.

—

ive written a shared room scenario before and this is set on college au. Do take note this has nsfw content in it

#anon ask #ellianswers #venti x reader #himmel x reader #genshin impact x reader #elliwrites #venti fluff

[feelingbluepolitics]

We Must Handle the Truth

There's no question that the management of Donald trump will be an issue of on-going global importance. Knocking him from his (alleged) official perch is only the first step.

The more crucial steps must follow, because trump will retain his influence and his supporters, and they will do whatever he hints that he wants, even up to treasonous attacks, assassination attempts, and mass murders.

We must be clear. There is no cozy "look to the future and heal" pretence of an option in our present situation. This is aside from the fact that taking that Pollyanna path repeatedly --from Watergate to Reagan to Bush-- helped to criminalize and radicalize the Republicon Party into the danger they are today.

Shame, honor, and true patriotism have become vestigial on the Right. Their criminal administrations and elected representatives keep getting away with what they do because we embolden them each time with a blind eye.

That is not how justice works. The blind eye of justice means that no one, no matter how powerful, is exempt. The time to work on that is January 20, 2021, and we are far overdue. Politicians, corporations, tax cheats, polluters: we still have laws, for all of trump's and his administration's destructive efforts.

We sully our government offices and endanger our nation by not requiring accountability to the office and to the people, over and above any present occupant. Where we are blocked by pardons we must still have thorough public investigation. That is not a waste of time for lack of a prosecutorial path. It is existential. It's the accountability we cannot do without. It's the foundation of the future laws we need to draft and pass to safeguard this country.

Pardons become entirely corrupt when we acquiesce to them blocking investigation. Democracies survive on information and truth, combined. We are where we are now in part because we still have corrupt actors left-over from Watergate active in our politics.

What are we to do about trump? That isn't initially, or perhaps ever, all about pardons, or state versus federal charges, or orange jumpsuits. In this instance, ironically, the potential solution is all about trump. This is where an examination of how trump interacts with the rest of the human world can guide us.

He forms specific categories of relationships which are actually invariable, because he is permanently shallow and unperceptive. Because trump the consumate narcissist is always the center of every relationship, and because he is, without introspection, forever fixed in all his defects, all of his various relationships fall into the same patterns within their categories. Here they are:

1) The Strongmen. Shades of daddy Fred trump, these are aspirational relationships teaching the type of utter control the core pathetic trump would like to wield. But because of daddy, trump is conditioned to the "love me, admire me, and be useful and loyal or I will harm or destroy you" format, but on the weaker side.

This is why we have seen trump pushing the United States of America into eagerly obsequious deference with respect to Russia, North Korea, and Turkey, and also pandering to Saudi Arabia's power which is additionally derived through vast transactional wealth.

But we cannot and do not want to transform America or Biden into this Strongman mold, because then it will have been pointless to remove trump.

2) The Assets. This category comprises trump's immediate family members and all Republicons in office, from Mitch McConnell to Kevin McCarthy, and from Michigan’s Republicon Senate members to, potentially, Gorsuch, Kavanaugh, and Barrett. This category also extends to trump's supporters, mostly as a collective.

These are the flipside of the Strongman category, where trump gets to play the opposite role. These people are tools, who work constantly to remain in good standing with trump, rendering obsequious deference and servitude as a matter of advantage but also, essentially, as a matter of status survival.

trump is a horrible antagonist or enemy.

This, by the way, is exactly the relationship this country cannot continue to allow with trump, as a matter of national security.

3) The Targets. We know who they are. They caught trump's wrathful attention. Some of the targets are personal to trump to varying degrees, while some are a matter of expediency, or are demonstrated examples, or are, so far, peripheral.

But everybody knows trump will never stop -- that is the personna he cultivated-- unless a Target person has something of value to make them an Asset again. (This is why trump is called purely transactional, in combination with having no beliefs, no morality, and no honesty.)

Fauci, and Birx, (who for a while pulled off a mommy-style interaction with trump as he tried to impress her with nifty genius like injecting bleach), are in a no-man's land, transitional between Asset and Target, in part because trump doesn't like attention on covid if he can help it.

We don't know exactly what trump will try to inflict on Mary trump for writing her book, but we've already seen a variety of attacks against Bolton, Kelly, and Michael Cohen, along with innumerable others. (It isn't just books. It's that these people did not keep flattering, and obey.)

He ousted from political power Jeff Sessions, Jeff Flake, Bob Corker (White House as "an adult day care center"), and Mark Sanford, of "the Appalachian Trail." He can do the same to any other individual Republicon, because as a group, they are all too backstabbing, dishonorable, greedy, and cowardly to unite against him.

Certainty we have seen trump's behavior with respect to Fox Gnus, the Clintons, and Obama.

This is the relationship this country cannot allow itself to fall into with trump. But how possibly to prevent it?

For that, we look to another category of trump's relationships.

4) The Survivors. Of those not in the Strongman category, there are few people who have survived relationships with Donald trump and who can get trump to do favors for them -- to do what they want.

It is dangerous idiocy to call them trump's "friends," by way of explaining their leverage and longevity. The key is leverage.

Rudy Giuliani :

- A "very, very good relationship" with trump.

- "I've seen things written like he's going to throw me under the bus. When they say that, I say he isn't, but I have insurance."

- "I do have very, very good insurance."

Giuliani's insurance is knowledge; some knowledge about trump gives him leverage. The leverage has to represent knowledge that trump fears exposure of or consequences for. Giuliani doesn't fear being otherwise loose-lipped, or even crazy, and his relationship with trump is currently letting him pull in $20,000 a day for "legal work."

Roger Stone :

"[trump] knows I was under enormous pressure to turn on him. It would have eased my situation considerably. But I didn't."

This leverage allowed Stone to openly demand clemency from trump regardless of any amount of political capital it could potentially cost.

The succession of wives, too, possess whatever personal knowledge, likely far more powerful than negotiated pre-nups and settlements, which ensure the notorious litigious deadbeat abides willingly by contractual terms.

As a nation, we need to survive trump. We have observed what works. But as a nation, we must address the issue of trump just a bit differently. Unlike Giuliani, Stone, or even Putin’s special holds over trump, we must:

1) Investigate trump extensively. Entirely. Turn him inside-out. And then,

2) Make the findings public. This is where a nation, a government of, by, and for the people in a country ruled by law and not kingdoms or cults, differs from defensive black-mailers or manipulative foreign spies.

This part, making public everything that doesn't actually threaten our national security to reveal, is necessary to harden both our resolve and our democracy, and to peel off whatever of trump's support that we can, and to deter the next trumpian assaults, whether by trump or the people who will try to follow the path trump has scorched into the fabric of our nation.

Public reveals are also a safety measure. There is vast potential for corruption otherwise. But then,

3) Keep every single trump-related criminal prosecution -- legitimate, of course, because we are not trump -- on the table. That is the leverage.

That's how to survive trump. There must be no more talk of how investigating a former *resident will turn us into a "banana republic." In a so-called banana republic, powerful government officials pressure others, either to carry out vendettas, or favors of protection by "looking the other way". Government is bent toward personal exploitations. Been there. Done that these past four years under trump and Republicons.

They have actually installed what can be termed "a deep state," notably for the first time, and sane Americans must know its extant. Fcuk their cries of victimization and oppression of the Right. The only difference is, when we investigate, there are actual violations, crimes, and scandals, with evidentiary proofs; when conservatives investigate, it's fundamentally bullsh*t-and-paranoia based.

A "banana republic" is exactly what we are attempting to rescue our nation from. With all the recognition that the Right has systematically unmoored from truth, and the terrible dangers that threaten as a result, from a stupid civil war born of propaganda, to climate devastation, as much truth as we can discover is what we need.

Knowledge is power. With trump out of the White House, we can get it. We must have it.

[misslilli]

Hope you guys are not too busy with Fictober 😄 thank you, as always, for your amazing feedback!

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 26 - A Pivotal Peppermint Mocha

[ DS ]

He respects my wishes, of course he does, and I don’t see him before or after Thanksgiving break, except for a few glimpses from afar, across the school yard or at the farmer’s market. As time passes, each time I see him, it gets less and less painful and my funk begins to lift. My kids at school breathe a sigh of relief and my friends stop tiptoeing around me. The nights get easier, too, and I manage at least a few hours of shut-eye.

I just got home from school, a little earlier than usual and I can hear the girls chatting and laughing in the kitchen.

“…and then Squirrel rolled her eyes and said: ‘But Felix, that’s impossible, no-one can stuff 100 marshmallows into their mouth, not even your dad!’ I get such a kick out of this kid, he insisted over and over again that Moose could do it and he’ll prove it to her. You should’ve seen the exasperated look on Squirrel’s face!”

What the hell? That conversation is eerily familiar because I’ve just had it this morning at recess. Why the fuck are they referring to us as Moose and Squirrel?

They jump about a mile as I step into the kitchen, guilty looks plastered all over their faces. Sarah, who just told the story, starts to speak first. “Uuuh.. hey D, you’re home early…” My hands on my hips, I give them each a long, hard stare.

“Who. The Fuck. Are Moose and Squirrel?” They share a look I can’t decipher and Holly pulls out a chair.

“You better sit down for this, D.” I do as I’m told and glance around the table, waiting for someone to start explaining what’s going on.

Sarah and Holly both make it clear by silently staring at Alex, the calm one of our group, the one they trust can explain in a way I won’t kick their asses afterwards.

Alex folds her hands in front of her and takes a deep breath. “Okay. I’d like to preface this with stating that everything we did was done with love and because we care about you and your happiness.” ‘Oh goody, I can’t wait to see where this is going…’

“We’ve been talking about Moo- Mulder a lot at our Friday night dinners and we could tell that you liked him. When nothing happened and no-one made the first move, we thought we’d give fate little pushes in the right direction.” I stare at her, starting to panic.

“Oh God, what did you do? Is anyone else in on this thing? Is he in on this whole thing?”

“No, no, no-one knows except for us. And Miss Hannigan, but only because we needed her help with the costumes and we swore her to secrecy.” I snort, you can’t swear the town gossip to secrecy.

“So the Halloween costume was your doing? That we went to the town fair in a couple’s costume?” Alex nods. “What else?”

“Just little things, I swear. Remember when we were at the Farmer’s Market and we all had various errands to run? We saw Felix and Mulder were heading over, so we scattered to give you some alone time.” Which led to our first quasi-semi-let’s not call it a date-date, yes I remember.

“So what’s the Moose and Squirrel business then?”

“Well, since it was all a secret operation, we needed codenames. Sarah came up with a play on the first letters of your last names and we thought it was cute, especially since there’s such a big height difference between these characters too. This was how Operation: Bullwinkle was born. Of course, after the basketball fiasco, we called it off… are you mad, D?” I sit in silence for a while, taking in the things my friends came up with to set Mulder and I up.

They eye me anxiously, trying to gauge my reaction and if they should run for cover right about now.

“No, I’m not mad. It was actually a really clever secret operation and I’m kind of sad it didn’t work out the way we all wanted.” Holly lifts her shoulders, relieved that I understood that they didn’t mean to cause any harm.

“Never say never, D.”

—————

[ FM ]

My mom has taken Felix with her while she’s out grocery shopping, which gives me a good part of the afternoon to leave the house and roam the streets. A good way to clear my head. It’s the first week of December, but New England hasn’t been graced with snow yet, just a misty cold that seeps into your coat and straight through to your bones.

My hands are freezing because I forgot to take my gloves, so when the green logo of the local Starbucks catches my eye, I go in to warm up and get a cup of coffee.

Usually, I avoid this place like the plague, I don’t possess the fast decision making skills required to choose from the 999 combinations, just to have a cup of freakishly overpriced coffee.

I can barely get through the door, the place is jam packed and soon, I can smell why. Peppermint Mocha season starts today. The prospect of standing in line for hours almost makes me turn back, but something stops me from leaving.

Most of the people are holding a cup in their hands gleefully already, so I push my way through the crowd to where the line starts. When I reach it, I find myself dumbly staring at the back of a fiery head of hair, a shade I’d recognize anywhere in the world and in the most crowded places.

Shi-hit, does this break the ‘giving space’ rule? No, I’m just getting a cup of coffee on a cold winter day, no big deal. I don’t even have to talk to her. Yeah right, who am I kidding?

—————

[ DS ]

I’m way too excited about the start of Peppermint Mocha season, so here I am, in a place packed with people, patiently waiting in line to finally get my hands on that glorious to-go cup of Christmas Spirit.

I’m next in line when the person in front of me turns a little too quickly, making me take a step backwards to let them pass, bumping into the person standing behind. I mumble a “I’m sorry!” over my shoulder and freeze when I hear a familiar voice respond with an “Don’t worry about it.”

Counting to ten in my head before I turn my head, I come to face with a grinning Fox Mulder, who adds “Fancy bumping into you here!” His silly pun elicits the first genuine smile I’ve given in weeks.

“Technically, you didn’t bump into me, I bumped into you.”

He grins even wider and nudges my shoulder with his index finger. “There. So, I’m new in town, what’s good here?”

I order my Peppermint Mocha with sweet cream foam and an extra espresso shot while he pretends to gag, he orders his black coffee to my snort and the barista’s comment on what kind of first name ‘Mulder’ is. We move to stand at the end of the counter to wait for our coffees.

“Sometimes, I just want to tell them my name is Bob, just so I don’t have to explain Mulder or Fox to another barista.”

“Don’t ask me how many time’s I’ve been Donna, Danny or Dinara and one time, Daniel. I think they do it on purpose. At least yours is easy to spell, Eff - Oh - Ex.”

“Oh I bet you were a regular hit at the spelling bee, with those mad skills of yours!”

“I’m a woman of many talents, Bob.”

The barista calls out our names, ‘Peppermint Mocha for Daisy, black coffee for Mouldy’ and we reach out to accept our respective cups. Pushing out way to the crowd, we continue our conversation.

“Daisy? That's not even remotely close to my real name… but Mouldy is freaking priceless!” Her giggle at their slip up almost makes it worth it to have a shitty first name.

“Yeah, yeah, make fun of the guy with the funny name. I kind of like Daisy, though, it’s a pretty name!”

I’m so happy to see that we turn to head in the same direction, strolling along the crowded sidewalk, sipping our coffee. I have to walk pretty fast to keep up with his long strides.

“It is, yeah! So tell me, Eff- Oh- Ex, how much flak did you have to take way back in the day, when “What does the Fox say?” came out?” I shudder at the memory.

“They didn’t tease me with it. Much. Just a lot of ring-ding-dingalinging. It became a thing in my friend group, whenever they asked me something, they’d add ‘So what does the Fox say?’. It went on a long time and they still do it sometimes, when we get together, just to drive me nuts!”

“I hope for your sake that Felix never discovers that song, he’d have a field day!” Oh God, she’s right. Must keep him away from it at all costs. At my panic face, she laughs an evil laugh. “We do listen to a lot of music at recess…”

“Oh no, you wouldn’t!” I point an icy finger at her. “Promise me you wouldn’t!”

“Well, it does have a lot of educational material in it, with all the animal sounds…”

“I’ll have you know that you hold my sanity in your hands, handle with care!”

“I hear they have a lot of fun pills at the asylum, maybe I’ll come visit so you can sneak me some!”

We come to stand at the junction where we have to part ways and she raises her cup.

“Have a good day, Mouldy!”

“You too, Daisy!”

—————

[ DS ]

I think about the strange but fun encounter all the way home, the world didn’t end like I thought it would when we met again and it was a rather pleasant conversation. Like a conversation between long-time friends, even though friendship is not exactly what I’m looking for here. But it’ll have to do, for now. It’s just nice to talk to him again.

#xf #the x files #xf fanfic #msr #felix felicis

[oingo233]

Rapture is a Boy (8)

Summary: Remus and you have always had a playful, loving relationship but his behavior around the full moon leads you to assume the worst. A huge fight ends with the two of you heartbroken. Will Remus reveal the truth behind his behavior?  And will you still love him afterwards or has he truly lost you forever?

Young Remus Lupin x Reader(neutral)

Warning: FLUFF, so much fluff you could drown in it, self-doubt (brief) 

Authors Note: This is the last part, which is crazy to me, I truly hope yall love it.  This series is dear to my heart because it has allowed me to meet and talk to you and so many other amazing people!  You all mean so much to me, and Remus is my lil baby too. I can’t even express how much I appreciate and love you all <3

Word Count: 5k

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven

                                                    Part Eight

                                      ****A Stag, a Rat and a Dog***

Remus POV

“That was-” Peter couldn’t even finish his sentence, he just laughed, he laughed so loud it was hard not to join in with him.  James pat his back and nodded, wiping some of the blue glitter off on his shirt.

“Right, mate.” he agreed.  Sirius was bouncing in his spot, none of our smiles breaking or dimming. “Another notch under the belt of our legacy of awesome,” he all but sang, all of our cheeks still flushed from this morning. He hit Sirius’s arm and they began to race up the stairs, Peter and I followed, jogging after them.  “Lily loved it too!” he added, smiling even bigger at just the thought of her, he was beating Sirius.  

We all stopped running and Sirius was scowling, he lost, we all stood at the portrait when Sirius turned to me.  “Worked well on (Y/N) too,” he stated, smirking at me and making a sexual motion with his hips, James laughed and I pushed him. “Ew, your palms are sweaty.”

“We’ll excuse me, ABBA sweats no doubt after giving the performance of a life time.” I say while James says the word and the painting opens for us. “Besides, it has worked for now.  But they are still oblivious to the truth.  I might lose them all over again, once they know.”

The mood seemed to darken at this realization.  Not everyone is as understanding about my condition as the boys. That’s the real reason I couldn’t stop sweating, and if the boys looked close enough they’d see I couldn’t stop shaking ever so slightly too.  I just got (Y/N) back, I’m not sure how well I’d be able to cope with losing them a second, and final time.  My heart broke just at the thought, and at the very realization that I might have to prepare myself for such an outcome.

“Mate, (Y/N) is one of the people in this world that loves you most.  Besides us of course,” James smiled softly, trying to lighten the mood whenever he could, “I doubt, that anything could make them think differently of you.  You’re not just your condition.  You’re Remus feckin Lupin!” The other boys cheered in agreement as we stepped into our dorms, Peter even went as far as rubbing my shoulders to build up my confidence, he saw a trainer do it to a wrestler on muggle TV once.

“And we’ve got a romantic feckin plan!” Peter cheers, still excited about what is yet to happen. I swallow thickly once more, this day could be one of the best in a while, or the absolute worst.  I guess we’ll know tonight.  

“Yes, and are you guys sure you are okay with this?” I ask, for the fifth time.  James rolls his eyes, and Sirius bangs his head on the dorm room wall.  

“Yes, Moony.  Yes. Yes. Yes.  We are okay with this for the millionth time.  (Y/N) is our friend too, and all we want is to see the lot of ya happy again, so will ya shut up about it.  We already agreed, mate,” Sirius says, looking up just barely lifting his head from the wall.

“And we don’t like lying to (Y/N) either,” James says, Peter nods with each word falling from their lips, as he tugs on pants and grabs a new, not bedazzled, robe.

We were still talking and going over plans for tonight when we left for first period.  The common room was quite expect for our meshed whispers and loud footfalls, it wasn’t until the painting door swung open that we heard another sound.  An all too familiar sound.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat before us.  Her hands folded in at her chest and her pointed eyes trained on us, unblinking.  We all swallowed thickly, our fear and respect for her almost overwhelmed our courage and friendliness towards her.  Almost.

“Did ya enjoy the concert, Minnie?  I was singing just for you.” Sirius said, smiling and trying not to laugh as her expression remained unmoving.  James joined in and I nearly rolled my eyes, but a smile found it’s way onto my lips nonetheless.

“Yeah, we saw ya a-tap-tap-tappy your toes!” He says, doing a little dance.  I was amazed by her ability to not even crack a smile at our enthusiasm, but then again, this was nothing new to her.  “ABBA gets to the best of us doesn’t it?”  As if on cue, Sirius was speaking again. I fought my smile and faked a sullen expression, fingers crossed behind my back, this was the part where one of us tried to weasel our way out of trouble.

“Exactly, our hearts were in it Professor, truly we had good reason and we weren’t hurting anyone.  Shame.  Just a shame Dumbledore gave us detention, any more severe punishment just wouldn’t make any sense.”  She raised a brow and in a last attempt I put in a word of my own.

“But you’re always so sensible Ms. McGonagall. I’m sure your punishment for us will be well-deserved.  Perhaps our outfits were too flashy?” Peter chuckles beside me, and shows her the inside of his robe.

“But this one isn’t at all. Ya see?” He shows her adamantly until she raises a hand and we are drowning in silence, she made us sweat in our palms and neck before speaking.

“Yes.  It appears your shenanigans are over.  But Lucy is still in the hospital wing scrubbing at her skin, the smell is pungent and unmoving.  It seems, Sirius,” She turns to face him, his adam apple bobs, “You did hurt someone.  The real shame is that you don’t seem bothered by that fact.  Follow me, boys.” She said, turning on us, her robes nearly swinging up and hitting our shins.  We follow wordlessly and with our heads down, her words bothered us a little, what really stung was the disappointment on her face and in her frown. (Though Sirius swears he heard her singing along).

She went to Peter’s class first, he went to follow her inside but she raised a hand and said “Oh, you won’t be going to class this morning, Mr.Pettigrew.” She excused Peter herself, whispering into the teachers ear.  My heart sank at the realization that I would not be seeing (Y/N) again this morning, James eyes me, my mood obviously changed.  I couldn’t even spend any time with them before tonight, our lunch would serve as detention as well. I might never get to see them again after tonight, couldn’t even enjoy this little time I have before the truth is out.  I won’t be able to be at peace until tonight or maybe even after, because who will love a monster?

For the rest of the morning we were locked in McGonagall’s empty classroom, writing out letters of apology to be given to Lucy in person later that day.  And attempting to come up with a charm or some potion that would reverse the long lasting affect of the Stink Bombs that we have created.  Wouldn’t be a marauders prank unless everything was well crafted, would it?  But now, our little spell seems to be our downfall.  Luckily, we found the right reversion potion, and it was taken to Madame Pom. immediately.  By the time we were allowed to leave, the bell for second period had just rang.

I sat through my classes with sweaty hands, and bouncing legs.  I agonized in the silence of detention about all that could go wrong, several times I re-debated whether I should really tell (Y/N) the truth, but it was clear that I needed too.  I have lied for too long, and it has cost me too much.  The truth will set me free...or at least I hope it will.  I sat through my very last classes feeling both sick, and determined.  Before we knew it, it was dinner time and James, Sirius, Peter and I snuck out of the castle for our final act of salvation.  Our last attempt to make things right.

Your POV

The ground was rocky and uneven below my feet, between the clumps of dirt and hidden rocks this trip to Hagrids hut felt more like a mountain climbing experience than anything else.  But my breathing was not ragged and exaggerated because of the walk, no, it was because ever since this morning my heart has been beating out of control.  I’ve been breathless and filled with both anxiety and warmth since Remus kissed my cheek and handed me this note.

Tonight will mark either the end or the fresh start of our relationship, of our friendship...of our love.  

My head is spinning as I stumble over a pumpkin root. What has he been hiding from me?  Is it something bad, or big, or maybe something he is just blowing way out of proportion?  What if the truth pulls us apart even more than the lies?

I shake my head in an attempt to free myself of this anxiety that swells in my stomach like a churning sea.  Whatever it is, I will face it with patience and love, but also self-respect.  I repeat this to myself until before I know it, I am at Hagrids hut.  The walls of his house seemed to mountain over me, it smelled strongly of firewhiskey, burning firewood,rich dirt and sweet pumpkins.  The smell did wonders in calming my mind, but I rather large frown makes its way onto my face as I look around.  There was absolutely no one in sight.

I cuss under my breath.  Maybe this is the wrong place.  Maybe Remus is late?  I chew at my bottom lip and take a few large steps around the hut, my eyes keep going back to analyze the trees of the forest.  The shadows of the forbidden forest seemed to reach for me.  It called for me.  As if it was a whirlpool sucking me in I stepped towards it, staring into the layers of dark, large trees.  

I held my breath as a bush by the very edge of the forest shook, rustling leaves and snapping twigs filled the brisk night air.  I shivered, whether it was from the cold or the sudden fear I was not sure, but I did not have time to debate my feelings because suddenly, a canopy of dark green vines, hanging from the trees shifted.  

Large, cream horns parted the vines and drooping tree leaves, a particular branch got stuck on the intricate swirling of the horns and snapped completely as the creature stepped further from the shadows, revealing itself to me. 

A beautiful Stag stood proud, it’s thick coat shone under the moonlight, it’s chest puffed out at me with pride.  The horns only added to it’s graceful height, but it’s eyes are what truly took my breath away.  Those round, warm eyes they were so human.  So familiar.  Before I could debate it any further, the Stag stamped it’s hoof in the dirt softly, it snorted and white air swirled around it’s soft face.  Only then did I notice the beautiful yellow rose, plucked from a bush and resting at it’s front legs.

I bring a shaky hand to my mouth, barely able to comprehended the wave of emotions that nearly knock me to my feet. This was of Remus’s doing.  But...how?  The Stag inclines it’s head curiously at me to the right, it’s large ears flicking with some sort of impatience, or unrest.  Only then did I fully seem to understand the familiarity of this creature.  

“James?” I gasp.  The Stag seems to stand even taller at me, and...smiles.  With my mouth still hanging wide open I let out a boisterous laugh.  “James!” I almost yell, the Stag snorts again and leans it’s head down, using his nose to push the rose towards me.  The movement doesn’t help me get over my shock, but it stirs me into action.  I begin to cautiously walk forwards, and as I do the Stag er, James, picks up the rose between it’s teeth, when I am close enough he softly nuzzles it into my hand.  I grip it tightly, it has already been de-thorned.

Carefully, with my free hand, I reach it out just a few inches in front of me and James places his Stag head onto my palm.  I pet him softly, he stares up at me and it was as if I was staring at James himself.

“You clever bastard!” I exclaim, I knew how hard becoming Animigus is, but why would he do such a thing?  I was broken out of my trance when the Stag (James) begins to walk, slowly at first, he looks back at me and inclines his head first and it was as if I could just hear him saying, in his cheeky manner ‘Ladies first, of course,”

I swallow thickly and fight another bout of paralyzing shock, and instead smile, following James through the forest.  His hoofs sinking softly into the ground, the sound was methodic and helped with the strange over pour of emotions I’m feeling.

What happened next, is actually quite embarrassing.  It started with a little scamper by my feet.  Considering how far we’ve walked into the forest I was more than a bit concerned for my safety, but the large, strong Stag beside me cast most of my fears to the side.  Then, through a break of moonlight through the trees I saw it.  A large, fat rat!

I screamed so loud, dark ravens flew from their slumbers in the trees.  James beside me stomped his feet, and checked the perimeter with analyzing eyes, searching for the danger.  But they only found the rat.  I never thought a Stag could give such an amused, disappointed expression, yet here I stand.  Clinging to a deers ass for dear life, and he is looking back at me with said expression. My cheeks flush and I let go of his furry back, then the Rat very slowly inches towards me.  

It’s sharp nose lifting and dancing from side to side, it’s soft brown eyes sparkling up at me.  I’d say it even looked a little cute, friendly even.  But what unusual behavior, and what unusual eyes.  It’s tail glowing under the white light like a plump, pink worm...

“Wormtail!” I realize, laughter bubbling from my chest. The Rat lets out a gleeful squeak and James besides me snorts once again, seeming to laugh.  The Rat scurried off into the shadows, and I can’t help but berate myself.  Did I hurt his feelings?

But then he comes bounding back into sight, he stands on his back legs and his little Rat face seemed to glow with excitement as his pink hands unveiled a small little white wildflower.  The same kind Remus would pick for me on walks we took together. My smile only grows bigger as I do a sweet curtsey and pick up the flower mid-bow, lifting it up to my nose as I stand straight again.  

“My apologies, you know I don’t like rats.  But I suppose I’ll have to make an exception for you.” I smile down at him, and he reveals two yellow buck teeth, smiling up at me with as much of a smile any rat can muster.  I fail to hold in my laughter but extend my arm to him, he climbs up it and perches himself on my shoulder.  I hold the two flowers in one hand, and rest my other on James soft shoulder, so I can be led through the dark forest, I knew by know, they were leading me to Remus.

Peter climbs down my other arm and onto James back, then up his head.  I laugh as Peter holds on for deer(hehe I’m funny) life as James jokingly waves his head back and forth, Peter almost falls off but I help him back.  We all seem to laugh in our own ways, when suddenly a loud bark cuts through the sound of laughter and owls and even the rustling of the woods around us.  It was loud and impatient and yet humorous, it reminded me of someone I know well.  I smirk, raising a brow I turn to the equally amused Stag and Rat, James and Peter.

“Wormtail.  Prongs,” I say, motioning to the Stag who only inclines his head again, “And Padfoot.  Let me guess... Sirius is also some animal wandering these woods, finding us by chance?  A wolf, perhaps?  A dog?” They don’t say a thing, they only begin to walk again.  Turning us towards the sound of the echoing bark.

I was on the ground before I knew what was happening.  We’ve walked just a few more minutes and then a cloud of black overcame my sense and tackled me to the floor.  Black, Sirius Black, was a dog and on top of me.  He was barking right by my ear and cuddling me, it wasn’t until two little Rat hands attempted to push his leg that he got off.  

I was laughing uncontrollably, this was all too much.  Too crazy.  I knew they were geniuses, but this... becoming Animagus and though the reason was unclear I could feel it, something to do with Remus.  With Moony.  The nickname had a new meaning to me, and I wasn’t sure what yet, but I was sure I was about to find out.  

Sirius was racing around me in circles as I stood up.  His black tail wagging wildly, and his fur rustled and tossed under the wind.  I wanted to coo and awe, though his eyes were human and mischievous, the rest of him was adorable and strong.  A proud, handsome looking dog.  It was clear, by his behavior, that he was just as excited to reveal this big secret, as I was to know the truth.

“Sirius!  You dog,” I joke, a bad one on my part but he still barked with laughter and I shook my head, taking in the three of them.  This was, Merlin, I didn’t even know what this was other than beyond surprising and impressive.  Shocking.

Suddenly, Sirius makes one last dart behind me, he sends me in a spin and by the time I can control my footing he is back in front of me.  He is sitting on his back legs, front paws up in the air and bent in a cute trick, his ears flopped forward.  Just above his paws, drooping from the jaws of his mouth is a single daffodil.  Daffodils, like the one written about in this favorite poem of mine that Remus would read me on bad days, I Wandered Lonely as A Cloud by William Wordsworth.

I sigh, tilting my head to the left, a soft smile on my lips.  Everything about this was amazing and sweet.  It was amazing that the boys had this whole other life I never knew about, which I’m sure there will be a reasonable explanation for my ignorance because ouch.  But sweet, because this was obviously planned my Remus, but the boys were taking their own time to make it happen.  I bend down and pat Sirius’s head, the only time he lets me touch his hair, I think, almost laughing.  His tail wags as I pluck the flower from his mouth and he lets it fall easily into my hand.

I gather it with my other flowers, now forming a little bouquet and bring the whole lot of them up to my face and inhale. I close my eyes as I smell the sweet and powerful aromas, memories with Remus filled my head, and with it, a warmth filled my chest.  

“I hope this hasn’t been all too much for you.  I thought some truths would be better seen than told,” Remus says, walking up behind me.  I spin around, I didn’t even notice the sound of crunching leaves behind me. But I couldn’t find it in me to speak, the moonlight dancing across Remus’s face, highlighting his eyes, and the soft curves of his lips with the ragged lines of his scars, I was astounded by the boy before me.  Once again entranced.  All the anxiety, all the fear has left me, as I stared at him clad in fancy pants and a button up to match.  

He stops walking, unsure of where he stands with me.  I step towards him, finding some clearing in the haze I begin to speak.

“It’s wonderful.  They’re wonderful,” I say, turning with a thankful smile to the stag, the rat and the dog. They each in turn, show their teeth at me in an attempt of a smile.  I laugh and beside me, Remus does too.  With a nod of his head, they turn their backs on us and leave.  I no longer needed guidance or safety.  Remus stood before me and I felt something that has been missing for the past couple of days.  And even though I was in the middle of the dangerous, forbidden forest, I knew that I was also home.  

“I love the flowers. I must say, this night has already taken the most unexpected turn it could, but the nicknames definitely make more sense,” I attempt a bad joke, a habit of mine in a nerve wracking situation but Remus only seems to grimace slightly, before turning it into a smile, though it was a rather sad one.

“Well, you seem to be taking this well.  Have you figured out mine yet?” He asked, his sad tone surprising me. We were so close his voice dropped low just out of habit it seemed, and because the short distance between us put us in a trance.  I missed him.  I missed him so much my body now seemed to come back from the dead and reach for him, I was alive again with dancing butterflies and buzzing questions.  I glanced down to his lips, before taking a step back. 

“No.  But I can guess.  It makes sense, once every month you seem to leave me.  You change into someone who is distant, someone who doesn't seem to love me,” He steps forwards, looking pained by this realization, but as I speak it becomes clearer to me, but I can’t yet reach the conclusion.

“I will never become a person who doesn’t love you.  I will change and grow but you will be the one thing that remains.  You don’t have to guess anymore, but I want you to know that my love for you will always remain, even if after tonight, we do not,” he speaks with such reverence, like our love was something scared to him and deep down, I knew I felt the same way.  It is my first love, and if I can help it, than he will be my only lover until the day I die.  All I can do is nod as he steps forwards again, I can see a bead of sweat roll down the apple of his cheek, he was about to tell me.  I can feel the shaking of his hands as he places them in mine.

Suddenly, his unbreaking stare leaves me, and in place, find the bright moon.  Twinkling in the sky and illuminating us in its wake.  I understood in that moment, Moony.  A boy mapped with scars.  Moony.  A boy plagued by nightmares, and insecurities.  Moony.  A tough, but oh so scared boy who seemed to hate the very night itself.  Moony.  The boy who changes during the month, and is gone completely on the full moon.  Moony.  Moony, the Werewolf.

I pull on his hands and gather him into my embrace, pulling back only to kiss him sweetly.  The world becomes ours as our lips dance with one another to a song we’ve heard before.  It is the song of him making love to me.  It is the song of the poems he reads me and the flowers he picks.  It is the song of the moons very envy as she watches us together.  The song of lovers.  It moves us.  It moves my hands up his neck and through his hair.  It moves his lips across my cheek and jaw and then down my neck.  It moves the wind, and the trees around us.  It pulls the moans from our mouths and then the confessions.

“My beautiful love,” Remus kisses the words into my skin, up to my lips.  “My only love,” he mumbles into my lips, kissing me softly but his hands are bruising at my hips.  As if I would leave him if he did not hold me close enough and for forever.

“I love you, Remus ‘Moony’ Lupin.  I love all of you and all that you ever will be and all that you have been.” He pulls back from me, his eyes glazed with tears and a softness that makes my heart sing.  He nods, and than he laughs.  A tear falls from his eyes as his head leans back and he laughs, the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.  It was as if all his anxiety, and self-hatred has left him and in their place my words have nestled in.  I love him.  I love him.  I love him.

“I’m a werewolf ya know?” he says, still laughing, he knew I made the connection.  At this point it was pre-caution, I roll my eyes and kiss him again.  The world is forgotten as we kiss, as we rejoin as one and as lovers.  I pull back and softly wipe away his tears.

“I know,” I whisper into his lips, he smiles, giving me a soft kiss.  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Remus?” I ask, pulling away from him.  He frowns now, his cheeks red with blush, and lips to match.

“I thought I’d lose you forever.  That you’d think I was some monster, or- or beast.  You always looked at me like I was the world, and I was terrified one day you’d see the real me, and just- well, stop loving me altogether.” While he speaks his eyes still glitter with the promise of tears, and my heart sinks at his words.

“I think I understand your anxiety about it.  I can’t imagine how hard it must be.  But I would never stop loving you for such a thing, merlin, I don’t think anything could stop me from loving you.  I never want you to feel the need to hide from me again, okay?” Remus nods into my hands, I still haven't moved them since I wiped away his tears, it seemed like more keeps falling each time.  

“The boys became Animigmus to help with my full moons.  It can get pretty bad… but ever since they have come along things really got better, really they did.” he adds when seeing my sad facial expression.  My heart felt broken all over again at just the thought of Remus being in pain, alone and suffering.  I swore in that moment, I’d do anything in this world to help make things better for him.  I nod my head.  He continues.

“And Lucy, her older sister is a werewolf.  She figured out that I was one pretty quickly, she said I could speak to her about it all, and that she could help somehow.  It was nothing more, she just let me complain and even write some letter to her sister.  I never even thought of Lucy like the way I think of you.  She was always just a friend, but that remains no more.  To hell with her,” he says.  He can’t stop smiling, a real, golden smile.  There was nothing holding him back, I could just tell he felt so much lighter.  I took his hand and wordlessly led him to sit on the grass with me.  We laid shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the stars together.  

He told me in depth about how he was bitten as a child, about how it changed his life.  Then when the boys told him they were becoming Animgus for him and all the little moments and adventures they’ve had since.  He didn’t sugar coat a thing, he didn’t lie.  He was bearing his soul before me for the first time, without any thin veil holding us back and I’ve never felt closer to him.  It was well past curfew by the time I felt satisfied with everything he’s told me, I felt both heavy with this knowledge and yet free.  I felt included and like I truly knew Remus, and I still did love him.  More than ever, I love him.

We laid in silence for some time, my head has moved to lay on his chest and I can hear the steady, warm beating of his heart.

“Can you hear it?” he asks, out of the blue.  I strain my ears to listen to the forest around us, I lift my head slightly and he laughs.  “No. My heart, can you hear it?” I lean back into him and let out a little laugh myself.

“Oh.  Yes,” I smile, “I can hear it.”

“Good.  It beats for you.”mhe says, I look up at him only to find that he has already been looking at me.  His eyes soft, and smile warm, his heart steady under the palm of my hand and loud within the stillness of the night.  It beats for you.  His words echoed in my head and I couldn’t help myself, I lean forward and press my lips against him.  I could kiss him forever.  I could be with him here like this forever, alone and in love, honest and unafraid. 

 I understood a lot of things that night, more than just about who Remus was and the secrets he has been hiding.  More than the truths that he bared and the love that we had. I understood how after all this time of separation and uncertainty.  After exhausting ourselves in a sea of sorrow and questions, we have finally found our peace.  I have found my happiness.  And I realized something rather important.  Rapture is a boy.  Rapture is love.

Taglist:

@crazylokonugget​   @beyondprincess​   @1975weasley​   @nicodoesntexist  @goto-hi-this-is-my-brain  @yoyoitsbella​  @ftwert   @sognatrice-as-a-hobby​  @dontjudgemyobsessionpls​​  @blackpinkdolan​

@holdenviolet   @katie-lupin05   @acoustic-archie @trishizzl   @accio-willtolive-lmao  @ilistentotayswifttocope  @kopheliablack​​

#young remus imagine #remus lupin #young remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #harry potter #harry potter fandom #the marauders #the marauders fanfiction #fluff #werewolves #pls im emotional this series is over #young marauders #i love yall

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars • 10

Pairings: Sirius Black x [F]Reader, Remus Lupin x [F]Reader Content: Language, possible errors, introducing more Marlene, unreliable narrative-ish Author’s notes: Ngl, I had to rush this one.

Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 9: One Hundred and Fifty Points

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

November rolled around signifying the start of the new Quidditch season. Inside the great hall was flooded with the smell of sausages and fried eggs along with the cheerful chatter of students looking forward to the first match.

Gryffindor and Slytherin were the first teams set to play and their relationship had never been so tense until now; even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who liked to join in on the playful raillery decided not to participate.

Whenever a Gryffindor was to pass by the Slytherin table to get to their respective seats or simply walk through the entrance, a hassle of insults and boos would follow and vice versa.

While both houses had their own tactics to mess with each other, the Slytherins had tactics that transpired off the pitch and were brought into daily life. It was a smart move, and some of the newer Gryffindor players allowed it to bother them even before stepping foot onto the field. The insults built over the past couple of years, largely because Gryffindor had yet to lose a single game since James joined the team a little over three years ago.

And since James was newly appointed captain, they were relentless.

In the days leading up to the match, whenever Y/N accompanied James through the halls, whispers of childish remarks like, “I bet Potty is going to go to the potty after Talkalot throws him off his broom,” and other insults follow him, varying from his abilities or his capability to lead his team to victory.

Despite the relentless jeers, James managed to take them in stride, constantly donning a bright smile. Not once had it wavered him or chilled his blood. If anything, he took it as a compliment and even bounced off of it with a witty response. A few times, he even repeated the insult, announcing it loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear before turning the joke on them.

But today, he finally cracked. Marlene, who joined the team last year as a chaser, was beyond ecstatic while James’ smile was non-existent. It was fairly evident to everyone who knew him that his smile and body language faked confidence in an attempt to mask nervousness.

As his first year as captain, James had an extreme burden on his shoulders. Stakes were at an all-time high to continue the three-year-long title holder of the Quidditch cup. He was under a constant microscope. Everyone was curious to see how James led his team. Not only did he have to prove his abilities as a leader but was also in jeopardy of staying captain for next year. His status depended on these games.

Additionally, the potential loss would be devastating. James was not the first pick as captain for this year. Charlie Bell, a seventh year, was supposed to take his place with James coaching the year after he left, but Bell stepped down, preferring to spend his time focusing on NEWT revisions. Although due to his time studying, Bell’s abilities were admittedly sloppy and began to worry James as he was not up to his standards.

Although in Y/N’s (biased) opinion, James had nothing to worry about.

He insisted on daily practices ever since try-outs were held in early September. It was even hard to catch Marlene who’d been James’ left-hand man of sorts. Today, the two players woke up bright and early in preparation for the first game. They woke up at six o’clock in the morning, to Marlene’s dismay, and went for a light jog and a quick exercise. The rest of the Gryffindor team was there and went over their ground plan again.

Y/N had seen a few of their practices to support them and bring any food incase they missed breakfast or dinner. James was absolutely merciful. Like any good captain, he listened and attended to the needs of his players, but he held Marlene’s opinion higher than the rest.

Rumours floated around the two and she was excited to see if they held true. Both players had become great partners and were almost unstoppable on the field. Because of this, it was highly anticipated that Gryffindor was going to win, especially with how gruelling James’ coaching methods were compared to former captains. Bets were placed ranging from Knuts, Sickles and Galleons.

Due to the overwhelming pressure, James was at a loss for words, for once. His anxiety spiked and the only person who could talk any sense into was Marlene; both sharing an odd, yet special bond.

Even in the days leading up, Mcgonagall, who she’d found out was very gifted and a huge fan of the sport, took notice of his unusual and quiet behaviour. McGonagall let loose, avoiding giving out homework for the week. She had even opted to avoid giving James any.

It was quite clear McGonagall had a soft spot for the marauders, often letting them do as they pleased while at harshest, taking away house points and sparingly handing them detentions. James, of course, had been using this to his advantage as he pleaded to give the entire Gryffindor team no homework using the famous ‘but we have practice!’ excuse.

When she arrived in the hall with Dorcas, the moment they walked through the entrance, the Slytherin table booed in their direction but was rivalled with a thunderous welcome from the Gryffindor table. Everyone in sight wore red and gold.

James had a vice-grip on Quidditch Through the Ages while in the other hand, tried but failed, to shovel potatoes in his mouth. Marlene sat on his left, reviewing several techniques they could use last minute that the Slytherins may not expect coming. They were already wearing their jerseys. Plastered on Marlene’s chest in bright yellow was the number 6 while James was 7. Their uniforms were identical aside from the pin on James’ shirt that caught everyone’s attention. A shiny new captain’s badge sitting proudly on his chest.

Both were talking to each other rapidly, barely registering their friends sitting down beside them.

“Don’t be thick,” said Marlene, “This is going to work. Stop second-guessing.”

“I’m mental. Abso-fucking-bloody-mental … What was I thinking?”

“Potter,” she scolds, “get it together. Now, in about an hour, we’re going to be walking on the pitch. We’ve practiced for hours — days even — much more than the Slytherins have. You were made captain for a reason and we have back-up plans. We’re beyond ready.”

He sighs, taking a deep inhale. “Okay… Okay.”

Within a few seconds, the air around him shifts and James' assertive and authoritative side takes over. “What were you suggesting earlier?”

“We have to go underneath and cut them off. Trust me, they won’t expect it.”

“Where do you want me?”

“What broom model do you have?”

“Nimbus 1984.”

Marlene scoffs, “Should’ve known, Mr. ‘Trust fund’ Potter. Anyway, yours is the fastest and newest — ought to be the first one to cut ‘em. Lead the way.”

James stops to ponder before bobbing his head in agreement, “Sounds good, but Bell?”

“— do you think he can do it?”

“Not sure. Maybe he will once the rush comes — no — we can use him as a decoy then.”

The sudden uproar of cheers and boos of both Gryffindors and Slytherins attempting to drown each other reached the table’s ears again, James looked down at his lap. Even Marlene’s leg started bouncing up and down.

Lily was about to make a harmless jab before Marlene’s eyes shot up to her, shaking her head warningly.

James was truly losing his shit inside and out.

“Mental,” he grumbles out. He barely registers his body move on its own accord. Marlene followed his lead, getting up with him before his attention was drawn back to everyone in front of him.

“You coming, right? Gotta see my moves,” James tries to joke, looking at Y/N.

“She better or I’ll drag her onto the field.” Marlene cuts in. Judging by the burning look in her eyes, Marlene was far from joking.

“Of course I will.” She then directs the next sentence mostly to James, “You’re going to crush them.”

A nod of approval comes from both players. Marlene’s chest puffs out from the praise, even going as far to dramatically flick her hair over her shoulder while James seems to relax considerably.

“Of course we are. You are talking to the King of Quidditch.”

“Hem hem — and queen!”

“My bad — and queen. We’re going to win.” It was nice seeing his arrogant side back.

“Pff— that’s not even a question,” Marlene says, “I’d rather fling my body off a tower if we lose this game.”

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

At eleven o’clock sharp, the entire school sat in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. From there, she could smell the fresh-cut grass, filling the air as cold steel filtered through her lungs. It was refreshing and tickled the inside of her nose. The seats were raised high, a warming charm placed on them, courtesy of Flitwick.

Flakes of dewey frost coated the field and stands. The wind howled as a few brooms whipped back and forth, checking to see if everything was in proper condition before the start of the game. Unfortunately for the players, stormy grey clouds were raised high and there was a high risk of rain or snow. It surely was going to make catching the Golden Snitch harder.

All the girls were there to support Marlene. Lily and Dorcas went all out and brought a huge poster. Streaks of red and gold were painted underneath their eyes as leftover gold tinsel from the Halloween party was woven into Lily’s hair. Many other students also held large signs, waving flags; even Y/N and Mary had binoculars secured around their necks.

A large lion was charmed onto the sign, moving back and forth before opening its mouth to roar. In bold letters, it read Gryffindor’s Weapon, McKinnon! Dorcas placed another charm on so the letters interchanged between red and gold, flashing similar to a new-maj diner sign.

Madam Hooch stood in the middle of the pitch. In a flash, the two teams came out, shouldering their brooms in a single file line from two hidden doors beneath the stands. At the front, the team’s respective captains led them to the middle. A deafening applause greeted them. Some players even waved back to the crowd for louder cheers.

A few rows down, sitting in the very front was Sirius and Peter, rapidly waving their arms around and cheering. Peter bent down, pulling up a sign that read Potter’s Preeminence . Even with the distance, Y/N could hear Sirius’ screaming. He wore a paper mache lion head while Peter wore the body of a lion.

‘YOU GOT THIS PRONGS! FUCKING CRUSH THEIR TINY LITTLE SNAKE BONES— LET’S GO GRYFFINDOR, LET’S GO WOOWOO!”

What caught her eye was Remus’ absence. She was under the impression that he and James were close friends, so surely he would have been there in support knowing that this game was immensely important to him.

Back on the field, the captains shook their hands. James’ head was held high, determined not to break eye contact first. However, the other captain simply smirked and leant in to whisper something in his ear before Hooch scolded her. When she pulled back, Y/N could hardly see James’ expression but she managed to catch a small glimpse.

He looked, well, she didn't know what his expression meant. Angry? Nervous? Annoyed?  

This was her cue, “DON’T LET THEM GET TO YOU JAMES!” She shouted so loud that it managed to travel down to him. Sirius’ head whipped back, even looking appreciative at her encouragement.

James managed to hear and his head perked up. His head swivelled towards her, his frown wiped off as his confidence returned. Behind him, Marlene looked up to the stands and Y/N, along with the other girls, shot her a thumbs up.

Madam Hooch continued to give her speech. James looked determined, his head tilting towards Marlene as they nodded to each other in encouragement. Y/N was unfamiliar with the rest of the Gryffindor and Slytherin players, but surprisingly, Regulus Black was standing there. Unlike the other warm brown and golden brooms, Regulus’s broom was black, accented with silver metal. An odd mark was engraved on the widest part of the base.

Due to the distance, it was hard to make out what was engraved or what position he played before Madam Hooch grabbed her silver whistle, which was comically too big.

“Mount your brooms,” she said, the entire crowd hearing. She lifted the whistle to her mouth and gave a loud blast. The game began.

Fifteen brooms flew high into the air. The clouds covering a couple of players passing by.

The announcer’s voice fills the air. “Anddd we’re off! Gryffindor’s newest captain, James Potter, 7, has the Quaffle and— he passes it to Charlie Bell, 2. This is his last year on the team so everyone give him a loud cheer— he sends the Quaffle back to Potter— and he passes it over to Marlene McKinnon, 6, and— no— the Slytherins swiped the Quaffle! Captain Emma Vanity, 21, flies away and she dives— she passes it to Rhys Calwald, also a seventh year— McKinnon comes back and takes it! She’s— a Gryffindor is down! Bell was hit by a Bludger and— he’s back up, perfectly fine— Potter is by the goalpost and blocks off the Slytherins, speeding up. Above, Phoebe Dawson, 1, joined as the Gryffindors newest seeker. She’s high in the clouds, neck and neck with Regulus Black, 8, Slytherin’s seeker and— there’s a clear shot to search for the Snitch. The Quaffle is taken by Bell and— Slytherin’s chaser takes it! Chaser Lucinda Talkalot, 4— their beater bats it away from an incoming Bludger— Talkalot is rounding on Gryffindor’s goalpost— she’s close, Vanity is there— she dives— she shoots— and… and— SLYTHERIN SCORES!”

Gryffindors groan while Slytherin cheers and wave their signs higher. A roar of claps goes around.

Now Lily is screaming, her hands are stretched out, waving her large sign above her head, blocking the unlucky students sitting behind her. “THAT WAS ONLY TEN POINTS! GET THEM MARLS— YES! LOOK AT THAT DIVE!”

Down below, Peter and Sirius are mirroring Lily. "IS THAT ALL YOU GOT POTTER?! COME ON WE KNOW YOU CAN GET EM! YOU'RE DOING AMAZING! FUCKING CRUSH THEM!"

Y/N grabbed her binoculars, bringing them to her eyes. Marlene was high up, open for James who had the Quaffle tucked under his arm. He does not look over to her, but rather looks at Bell before he throws it to her, his eyes still trained on Bell. Marlene catches it and from the trick James pulled, she has an extra few seconds before the Slytherins catch her. Marlene speeds away as a Bludger is directed at her. Luckily, one of Gryffindor’s beaters already flung it away as Charlie came rushing close to Marlene’s side, warding off any Slytherins as best as he could.

The commentator cuts in again. “Gryffindor is back in possession of the Quaffle. McKinnon and Bell are flying closer to the goalpost—Slytherin's keeper is standing tall at their net, Ashworth, 3— they’re speeding towards— look! It’s the Snitch!”

The two seeker’s heads shot up. A low murmur spreads through the crowd as they caught sight of a flash of gold. Only for a second, they saw the little ball, its wings fluttering madly before it disappeared back into the clouds.

Slytherin directs a Bludger towards Phoebes before Gryffindor’s beater comes rushing up to swat it away.

Gryffindor still is under the possession of the Quaffle. Marlene and Charlie have been passing it back and forth while James comes back around. His body is pressed close to his broom. He does a funny hand movement, signalling to the rest of the chasers before they swoop down suddenly. Everyone is confused and Charlie is flying in the opposite direction, some of the Slytherins follow him before Marlene passes the Quaffle at James and shoots.

"— GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"

Another round of cheers echoes through Gryffindor’s side. Lily’s clapping slowed. She wanted to show support for Marlene, her house, but not for James. As the Quaffle is sent back up to the air, James and Marlene high-five each other discreetly before returning to their positions.

The Slytherins rush back towards Gryffindors goalpost; they're zigzagging through the air, violent swishes to avoid chasers from cutting them off again.

"Slytherin's in possession. Vanity is on Talkalot's right— passes it to her— shots— misses! Talkalot gets another rebound—

Y/N's attention is drawn back to the seekers. A beater is rapidly swatting away Bludgers as Phoebe is neck and neck with Regulus. Her eyes are stuck through the binoculars.

All of the sudden, a Bludger collided hard with James' broom, so strongly that Y/N swore a chip of wood was knocked off. His broom vibrates hard but his grip is still secured tightly to prevent bucking off. The Bludger was so close to his face that for a split second everyone thought it might've broken his nose. The crowd was cheering on intently while Sirius and Peter screamed.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?"

"FOUL!" Madam Hooch yelled. Gryffindor gets a free score on Slytherins goalpost. Marlene is the one to score.

"NICE JOB MARLS!" Lily bellows. Her voice is high-pitched and cuts through the air loud enough that Marlene looks over and gives a thumbs up.

By now, Slytherin has scored eleven times while Gryffindor was merely in the lead by ten points. Slytherin was rapidly gaining on them. Vanity and Talkalot were great at their positions.

"Gryffindors in possession! Bell’s got the Quaff— a Bludger is coming towards Potter again—” The iron ball was barrelling towards him, again. A beater shouted, warning him before James zoomed across the field as fast as he could. A beater trailed after him and swatted it away, narrowly avoiding being hit.

James ducked as another Bludger was rocketed in his direction.

"— BLOCKED! YEAH, SCUMBAGS — Sorry McGonagall!— Bell is gaining on the Slytherins and aiming at Ashworth. McKinnon is seconds behind— the seekers spotted the Golden Snitch!"

There was an edge of panic that soared through everyone’s hearts as both of the seekers dived down so fast that the chasers and beaters had to move out of their way. It was neck and neck, both flattened to their broom and the crowd only saw the glimpse of golden sparkles. Both reached out their hands.

It was only then a Bludger hit the back of Phoebe's broom, similar to James, causing her to lunge forward and off her broom.

Both seekers were laid on the ground. Everyone peered at the crash worried about their safety before Regulus lifted his hand, waving it above his head.

"I got the Snitch!" Regulus pants out.

James came rushing down to his teammate's side to make sure they weren't badly injured. He screamed for Madam Hooch.

After careful deliberation, Hooch ultimately decided that Slytherin won, awarding them the extra one hundred and fifty points. Gryffindor lost by thirty points.

"That was an illegal Bludger attack!" Marlene says.

"What the fuck?! That's rubbish!" Sirius screamed. Mary, Lily, Dorcas and Y/N groaned with the rest of the Gryffindors. The Slytherins chanted, waving their banners around and screaming as the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws clapped.

“Bell shoulda been cap, what were they thinking, picking the so-called King of Quidditch!” The Slytherins sang.

James, while still upset at the ruling, was more upset at his team member’s pain. Nobody knew what happened, but James seemed to leave Phoebe's side once he knew she was okay and stormed off in the direction of Vanity. Marlene grabbed a hold of his uniform to pull him back.

“James, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She seethes into his ear, "Don’t start muggle duelling!"

“Are you fucking joking?” He bits back, “I’m not going to hit a woman!”

“Then calm down now.”

Whatever it was, James felt himself cool down considerably as he looked to Marlene. “Right, sorry. Just wanted to talk some sense into her.”

“Dreadful temper you’ve got there Potter.” Vanity spits out. She walks up to him, a pitiful smile on her.

“You need to keep your beaters in check,” he spits. Sparks fly from his nose as he marches back to Phoebe. By now, Madam Pomfrey has her laid back on a stretcher. James helps her, picking up the other end and walking back through the hidden doors. The team shuddered, trailing after them.

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

It was a devastating blow for Gryffindor. Everywhere Y/N looked, angry or disappointed faces would pop up. The team themselves were dejected while the Slytherins have begun planning a party.In the halls, students that made bets disappointedly slapped money it into the palms of students. 

Nobody had seen James for hours. He’d left right after the game and all the marauders had disappeared, only reappearing for dinner. Only Sirius and Peter were at the table. 

“— We were so close,” said Marlene numbly. “It must have accounted for something, using an illegal move like that.”

“You did amazing, it’s not your fault.” Lily cuts in, patting her on the shoulder.

“Now Potter is going to be ruthless for the next practices.”

A roar of laughter came from the Slytherins, a song chanting from their lips.

“Potter can hardly score a goal, he almost plummeted on the floor! He calls himself the King of Quidditch, well we call him the second option! Bell shoulda been cap, what were they thinking, picking the so-called King of Quidditch!”

“Shut it!” Sirius yelled, “You cheated! Bunch of gits.”

“Knock it off!” Followed Peter.

“Potter can hardly score a goal, he almost plummeted on the floor!"

Marlene cringes, watching the scene play out. Her grip on her fork tightens that for a moment Y/N thought she would have shattered the metal pieces. “They already won, what more do they want? A bunch of ugly toads...”

“Just ignore them,” Dorcas says. Marlene looked back at her, smiling reassuringly but with effort.

“He calls himself the king of Quidditch, well we call him the second option!”

“I don’t even like him,” Lily says dully, “But this… this is just mean.”

“Bell shoulda been cap, what were they thinking, picking the so-called King of Quidditch!”  

No wonder James skipped dinner. Y/N turns her head to look at Sirius and Peter, both upset. A thought passes, perhaps it would be good to see how James was doing, but a small seed of doubt settled in her. If his best friends weren’t with him, then it probably would be better to leave him alone. But starving himself shouldn’t be the other option. As the Slytherins continued to sing, with teachers and prefects starting to get up to stop them, Y/N grabbed a nearby empty plate before piling on spaghetti and bread along with slipping a few utensils in her pockets. She excused herself, nodding to Marlene for comfort and slipping her way out effortlessly as teachers swamped the Slytherin table.

The common room was empty aside from James who was huddled up with his invisibility cloak, staring miserably out a window. Only his head was visible, the rest covering his body. It made her feel a bit queasy.

The fireplace crackled with every step she took. There were a few options Y/N could broach this situation,

She could walk around him like there were eggshells,

Or treat him normally.

She sat down beside him, a bit unsure, handing him his plate. His gaze moves to her, a quick smile flashes.

“Thanks.” He says, taking it from her. He ate in silence for a while, Y/N deciding to talk to fill the silence.

“I was thinking we should play exploding snaps-”

“Hey, look, “ he cuts off fast, nodding stiffly. His smile faded and a hard edge crept in his voice, “you don't have to try and cheer me up—”

“Relax, I’m not here to baby you. You’re doing that already.”

A small huff of amusement comes out, “Well then, mind if I play with you?”

“Of course!”

Whenever James won, and quite honestly he wasn’t the best, he’d make a small whooping sound. Even a few times she lost purposely so he would win.

That is until he spoke again, almost inaudible “You know… I care what people think of me- well certain people and I let them down today.”

“James, you didn’t.”

“I did —”

“Nobody is mad at you. If anything they’re mad at Madam Hooch.”

“Still,” he looked down embarrassed. “What are they saying about me down there?”

Her brain short-circuited for a moment; he would have to find out eventually. “They’re singing.”

“Great.” Although he didn’t look bothered, just annoyed. However, he gained a rush of enthusiasm with his next sentence, “Whatever, I’ll show them next year.” 

A few games later, James left before the swarm of students came back to the common room. Again, he covered himself with the cloak and disappeared into the hallway. The spring in his step was noticeably lighter.

#sbtmas #the marauders #young marauders #hp marauders #the marauders imagine #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter marauders #HP #hp series #hp imagine #Remus Lupin #reader #remus lupin x reader #Sirius Black #sirius black x reader #reader insert #quidditch #marauders era #James Potter #fanfic #remus lupin imagine #sirius black imagine #Lily Evans #friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #sirius #remus

[missscarletta7]

The Broken Crown- Chapter 4

Enjoy chapter 4!

Summary: All Margaret Shelby ever wanted, was the opportunity to write her own story. Only now is she beginning to realize that her brother may have already written it for her...

OoOoOo

"When your dreams all fail,

And the ones we hail, Are the worst of all,

And the blood runs stale"

~Demons~

OoOoOo

1919

Maggie was so excited. She dragged Cara toward the pub the moment their school day was finished.

"Why are we going into the Garrison?" The blonde asked curiously.

"You have to meet the barmaid who works here," Maggie explained.

"I've seen her," Cara informed her. "What's so special about her?"

"We've become good friends." It was true, after such a long period of time had passed without seeing her older sister, Grace inevitably filled the gaping space that Ada had left behind.

"Should I be jealous?" The blonde teased.

Maggie flashed a loving smile, "No one could ever replace you."

When the dark-haired girl opened the pub door, the first thing they heard was Grace's melodic voice singing. "-As I've never loved before..."

Maggie spotted Grace serving drinks to the regular customers. Unfortunately, one of those customers was Ross, who was sitting with a group of men who would hang around the betting shop. Cara was quick to notice him too, her body immediately tensed.

"Since first I saw you on the village green..."

"Sorry Mags, I forgot my mum wanted me to fix stitching on some dresses," This was one of the few times Maggie had ever seen Cara looking embarrassed, "Maybe next time, yeah?"

"Come to me ere my dream of love is o'er..."

The dark-haired girl nodded, not wanting to refute the her friends claim, and watched Cara hurriedly exit through the doors.

"I love you as I loved you when you were sweet..." Maggie moved herself over to the row of empty barstools and took a seat as Grace was finishing her song. "When you were sweet sixteen."

Grace then walked behind the bar while Maggie applauded at the performance. "Hello Maggie," Grace greeted happily, grabbing a dirty pint glass off the bar. "Don't look behind you,but a handsome young man is staring at you."

Maggie felt her stomach turn, responding, "Let's change the subject."

Grace smirked, "How was school?"

"Dull," The girl said truthfully, "Harry out again?"

Grace nodded, "It's been slow."

"What have you been doing today?"

"I had a meeting with the gentleman who will be installing the pub's brand new phone."

"Neat." Maggie beamed at the thought of the new technology.

"Your brother is trying to go legitimate." Grace informed her, "He wants to make this place seem a bit more respectable."

"Which one?" The dark-haired girl asked.

"Arthur." She answered back unenthusiastically, "Though he doesn't seem too interested in fixing anything. I mean, look at the state of these." The barmaid picked up a carton of cigarettes that was ripping apart. "Where do these even come from?" She asked, hoping this question would lead to where the guns may be hidden.

Maggie just shrugged at her question. "How should I know? I think they have a few warehouses in town."

Grace nodded, taking in the information, before noticing a customer beckon her over, "I'll be back." She told the girl.

Maggie sat by herself for a few moments before she felt a presence inch closer to stand beside her. She knew there would be a confrontation at some point, she had done so well in avoiding him. She didn't have a chance to say anything before Ross spoke first, "I had instructions to give this to you."

Reaching into the pocket inside of his coat he pulled out a folded piece of parchment, placing it on the bar he slid it towards her. She was surprised but nevertheless relieved when he said nothing else and walked back to his table. Taking the note, she unfolded it to read the message that was scribbled out. As she read a smile crept onto her face. The message was from Ada.

OoOoOo

In the parlor, Maggie had been writing in her journal when Polly descended the down the stairs. "Put your shoes on," The older woman ordered, "Johns called a family meeting."

Watching Polly walk across the room, Maggie raised her eyebrow, "Thought I wasn't allowed at family meetings."

"John says it's not that kind of a meeting," Polly said, exiting into the tiny kitchen. Maggie happily closed her book and slipped on her black boots which were resting right underneath the old coffee table, before following her aunt into the kitchen.

"Pol?" Maggie asked worriedly when she noticed the woman standing rigidly by the table. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing." Polly said after a moment, "C'mon, we don't want to be late." Polly moved to enter the betting shop with her niece in tow.

"Where's John?" Tommy asked his aunt, agitated his brother was not at his post.

"John's in the Garrison, says he wants a meeting about a family matter," Polly informed him, placing her hat on her head. "After he's said his piece he'll come back and take his place with Scudboat."

Maggie tried to follow her aunt, but was stopped by Tommy's outstretched arm, "Where are you going?"

"To the meeting. John told Polly I could come," Maggie explained to him.

Though Tommy didn't look completely persuaded, Polly called on the large man taking bets. "John will be here in ten minutes"

"Five," Tommy corrected before the family walked out of the shop onto the cobblestone pavement.

"What does John want to talk about?" Tommy asked his aunt.

"Your guess is as good as mine. Always been one for dramatics, our John" Polly replied jokingly causing Maggie to chuckle out.

"You're in a good mood," Tommy noted to the smiling girl as he pulled out a cigarette to smoke.

"I like going to the Garrison," Maggie responded.

"She likes talking to that barmaid." Polly translated her nieces' words.

"You and Grace seem to chat a lot," Tommy spoke, exhaling a breath of smoke.

The girl shrugged. "I like Grace, she likes my writing," quickly adding, "We're friends."

"You trust her enough to share your work," Tommy said, impressed by the sudden growth of his sister. "I'm thinking of asking her to be my secretary," Tommy suddenly informed the ladies.

"Only a secretary?" Maggie asked, raising her eyebrows cheekily.

He flashed her a ghost of a smile, "Never you mind."

"Secretary, eh?" Polly finally spoke up as the Garrison came into their view.

"We're going, legitimate Pol." Tommy reasoned, "What's more legitimate than a secretary? Or maybe I’ll make her a bookkeeper. Arthur mentioned she’s good with numbers and helped him fix the books." Polly said nothing and this seemed to spark something in the gangster, "Got something to say?"

"Just don't let your cock do your thinking for you Thomas," Polly warned. He remained silent, but a small smirk was fixed on his face causing the aunt to roll her eyes.

When they entered the pub, it was empty, except for Harry, who stood behind the bar drying some glasses with a white rag. They saw Finn leaning against the outer wall of the private room, which Maggie assumed John and Arthur were already in.

"Stay out here Finn," Polly ordered the eleven-year-old who tried to enter with them.

"But Mags gets to go in!" The boy protested, yet his words went unheard. This made him look jealousy at his sister, who had stuck her tongue out at her little brother as she walked into the snug with the rest of the family. Both John and Arthur were already seated, and she took a place right next to Polly.

"All right John, there's only one man-," Tommy spoke, before declining the drink Arthur poured for him continuing, "There's only one man guarding the house. What's troubling you?"

"Aunt Polly, Maggie, you two know what it's been like since Martha died." John began.

Maggie gave her brother a sad smile as Polly took his hand and said, "God takes the best first."

John looked to his sister, "Mags, you've been a big help with them, but the truth is my kids have been running bloody rings around me." With hopelessness in his voice, he continued, "Running barefoot with the dogs until all hours."

Maggie's heart ached for him, but Tommy was not having it, "Pol, give him ten bob for some new shoes. Is that it, John?" He asked his brother impatiently.

"Tommy it would be better to do this without you," Polly scolded before turning her attention back to John. "Now what's your point?"

"What the kids need is a mother." John spoke again slowly, "So that's why I'm getting married."

Everyone in the room exchanged glances of surprise. Polly was the first to speak, "Does this poor girl know you're going to marry her? Or are you just going to spring it on her all of a sudden?"

John replied matter-of-factly, "I've already proposed, and she said 'yes'."

"I think that's great John," a smiling Maggie announced. Finally! She was officially off babysitting duty.

"I think there's a shell about to land and go bang," Tommy stated mockingly, before lighting the cigarette hanging in his mouth.

Hesitantly John spoke again, "It's um- its Lizzie Stark."

"Oh, eww," Maggie breathed out, crossing her arms as her family cackled at her expression.

Polly managed to compose herself, "John, Lizzie Stark is a strong woman and I am sure she provides a fine service for her customers-"

"I won't hear the word! Understand? Do not use that word." He told them angrily.

Tommy sighed out, "What word is that, John?"

"You know what word that is," John growled out.

"Everybody bloody knows" Arthur finally spoke out and pointed at his sister, "Shit, even Mags here knows."

John gritted out, "Everybody can go to Hell."

"Whore. That word?" Tommy finally supplied. "Or prostitute? How about that one?"

Fury flashed in Johns' eyes, "Right I want it known, if anyone calls her a whore again, I will push the barrel of my revolver down their throats and blow the word back down into their hearts."

"Well, that's not dramatic at all," Maggie mumbled out her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Men and their cocks never cease to amaze me." Polly berated, "John, Lizzie Stark never did a day's work vertical- "

"She's changed!" John insisted, "All right?! People change! Like- Like with religion-"

"Lizzie Stark has got religion, eh?" Tommy interrupted.

"No! No, she doesn't have religion, but- well she loves me." John asserted, "Now listen Tommy, I won't do it without your blessing. But of all the people in the world- I want you to see it as brave."

"Oh, it's brave all right," Arthur muttered before taking a swig of his drink.

"Brave is going where no man has gone before. And with Lizzie Stark, John, that really is not what you'll be doing" She told him, unable to hold back the laughter.

But he ignored her, looking back at his older brother, "Listen, Tommy, welcome her to the family, as someone whose had a hard life. All right because I need someone. The kids need someone."

Tommy looked as if he was about to give his reply before Finn pushed open the door forcefully panting out, "Tommy, we've been done over!"

"What?" Arthur asked in disbelief.

Quickly Maggie followed her siblings and Polly, who all practically ran out of the Garrison. Not stopping until they all were back in front of number seventeen, Watery Lane. "You and Finn stay outside," Polly ordered once they were outside the entrance of the betting shop.

Maggie was about to object until Tommy echoed their aunts' instructions and followed the rest of his family inside. The pair of Shelby's eventually moved from the noisy street to the alley where the car was parked. Finn carefully crawled onto the hood and contorted his way over the front window. Maggie followed her brother, stepping up to sit on top of the hood, letting her feet lightly kick the metal of the vehicle that protected the thin wheels.

"Look, Maggie," Finn giggled and the girl twisted her upper body to see her brother playing with the steering wheel, "I'm Tommy!"

The girl smiled, "If you're trying to be Tommy, you should work more on your scowl." She told him jokingly. Overdramatically Finn made a scowl but immediately broke character by breaking out in even more giggles, triggering Maggie to laugh as well.

Suddenly Tommy was at the entrance of the alleyway in front of them, he looked instantly distressed. "Maggie, Finn." He began slowly, "Both of you stay exactly where you are."

"What's wrong?" she asked him worriedly. Did something happen inside?

Raising his arm out to her spoke out cautiously, "Mags, as careful as ya can, I need you to slowly slide off the hood."

She did as she was told, while Finn kept snickering, "I was pretending I was you." The child told his brother, but Tommy ignored him instead he directed Maggie to move against the dingy brick wall.

Once he felt like his sister was out of danger he went back to the child in the car, "Which door did you open to come in Finn?"

"I didn't," He told his big brother proudly. "I climbed in."

"I want you to climb out exactly the same way you climbed in, okay?" Tommy instructed, but Finn disobeyed and opened the driver's door.

Maggie watched as Tommy ran to grab an object that had been on the side of the door, yelling out, "Clear!" before flinging it to hit the brick wall on the opposite side of the street. Maggie yelped out at the sound of the explosion, which caused working men to drop to the ground. "That's why you should never pretend to be me, okay?" Tommy told Finn, visibly shaken by this incident. Tommy then took a deep breath and pulled both of his younger siblings close to him.

OoOoOo

Polly and Maggie had just entered the washhouse Ada had informed them she would be visiting. It was a large space, but luckily there were not very many people who decided to do their laundry at the establishment that afternoon. Alone in the corner of the washroom, sitting on a stool, was a woman with a long brown coat, wide black hat, folding trousers onto the small table beside her.

"Need help?" Polly asked the woman eagerly.

The woman looked up to see her family members and smiled, "You got my letter." Ada grinned and stood up with a bit of difficulty, Polly was the first one to embrace her.

Once the aunt and niece pulled apart it was Maggie's turn. Though the hug was more on the awkward side, due to the sizable stomach that was in the way. She muttered into her sisters' ear, "Fuck, you're huge!"

"Oh, shut up." Ada happily retorted, smacking her sister's arm lightly.

"What's with the glasses?" Maggie laughed and pointed at the large spectacles on her sister's face.

"Freddie wants me in disguise when I go out now." She spoke with a bored tone and pointed to the strange-looking eyeglasses. "Can't bloody see anything with these."

Maggie grabbed a pair of socks, which she assumed was Freddie's, from Ada's hand, "Here let me help you." She told her sister and began to fold the newly laundered clothing.

"Has Freddie got you hiding somewhere near?" Polly asked hostilely.

"It's fucking rat hole," Ada spit out, "the entire flat is about the size of your room, Mags."

Maggie felt sad for her sister. Sure, the Shelby family didn't have much to their name, but they were better off compared to most of the population in Small Heath. "Is that Copper still looking for Freddie?" Ada inquired to which Polly nodded.

Ada cursed and placed a hand on her large stomach, "I just want to live in peace with my family. But instead of thinking of me or the baby, all he cares about is the bloody cause. Freddie even gave someone two hundred bloody pounds."

Polly leaned in closer to the pregnant girl, and with a hushed tone asked, "Who?"

OoOoOo

Maggie walked down the hall from her room to Tommy's, she was hoping she could borrow a pen since hers ran out of ink. Before she opened the closed door, she could have sworn she heard noises. Had her brother come home early?

"Tom?" She asked, opening the door, but that wasn't who was in the room, "John?"

Being caught, the third oldest Shelby stopped his rifling through their brothers' things, though seemed relieved it was only her, "Mags-"

"What are you doing here?" She asked before she noticed that his eyes were watery, "Has something happened?"

"The weddings off," He informed her with an irritated tone and moved to the dresser drawers.

"Oh." Was all she could manage to say awkwardly, "I'm sorry."

"Don't," he told her bitterly, shaking his head then went back to rifling through the dresser flipping over Tommy's clothes. "It ain't your fault I'm a fucking idiot!"

"You're no idiot, John," she assured him yet he just scoffed at her words.

"Never fall in love Maggie, leads to nothing but fucking agony."

“What does falling in love even feel like anyway?” She surprised herself when she asked.

John stopped and turned his red eyes to her for a moment before continuing his search, “You know it… it's like this feeling in your gut.” He told her somewhat uncomfortably, “Your heart beats a little faster, your mind always wanders back to thinking about them, no matter what you're doing; when you eat, when you sleep, when you work… Why the fuck are you asking me this?”

“No reason”, Maggie said quickly. "What are you even looking for, anyway?"

He didn't respond to her question, causing her to become frustrated. "Fine, don't tell me." Maggie walked over to the nightstand, picked up the first writing device she saw and left the room.

OoOoOo

The next evening Maggie had fallen asleep on the sofa in the tiny parlor of their home, at least until she was shaken awake by her aunt. "What's the matter?" she muttered out, quickly sitting herself up. Was something wrong? Had the Lees come back?

"Nothing, love" Polly reassured her, "I left a new dress on your bed, go put it on."

"We're going out?" The girl asked, confused, no one had told her they had prior arrangements.

"Yes," Polly nodded, "Now c'mon, we don't have that much time."

Maggie rose from her spot, "Where are we going, Pol?"

"To a wedding," The older woman huffed impatiently and made her way up the stairs to the bedrooms.

This confused Maggie even more, "Whose?"

Not two hours later Maggie had gotten her answer. She and Polly met Ada near the Lees campground and walked into their enemy's territory with no trouble at all. They approach the crowd of witnesses just as Johnny Dogs begins the ceremony. Ada stopped to stand beside Tommy.

"Let's stand over here, love," Polly said, guiding Maggie past her siblings to get a better view of the union. She watched on as Johnny officiated, taking notice that her brother actually looked happy to be up there. Her attention was taken off the bride and groom when she spotted Ross standing about ten feet away with the rest of the Peaky Blinders. Smiling softly at his familiar face, she waved, her stress alleviated when he did the same.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," Johnny said happily as all the witnesses cheered at the new couple's first kiss.

As the night went on the partygoers were all in a festive mood. Sitting on a wooden barrel, Maggie watched as everyone mingled and danced. Tommy was sitting and chatting with the matriarch of the Lee family, Arthur was in the middle of what looked like a drinking contest, and John danced to the music with his beautiful new wife, Esme. Even she had started to sway to the music as the firecrackers sounded off over the happy noises.

"Mags," Ross greeted her, walking up next to stand next to her seating place.

"Hello," she replied, followed by an awkward pause, "I'm sorry I've been avoiding you." She told him after a few moments.

"Understandable." He responded instantly, "I've been a wanker and not just to you." Taking another puff of his cigarette, he exhaled, "I'll talk to Cara."

Maggie was surprised by this proclamation, "Really?"

"I'll sort it out." He nodded looking at the others dancing, and with a smile continued, "I miss walking with you two."

Maggie returned the smile, "We miss you too."

Ross stuck his hand out, "Care to dance?"

Maggie felt her face flush, and waved her hands in protest, "Oh, no I couldn't."

"C'mon, it's a party." He urged, with his hand still outstretched. Smiling, the girl cautiously took it and was led to the crowd.

Feeling like an idiot, she tried to keep up with the fast-paced music, but it seemed like her feet couldn't move fast enough. She felt someone clumsily bump into her backside nearly knocking her over. "Oi! Watch- Oh sorry love." Ada slurred out.

"It's alright," Maggie assured her sister, regaining her balance.

Ada then awkwardly cupped her little sister's face with both hands, and with a very stern tone warned, "Don't you ever let a man call you a 'Fucking Shelby' you hear me." She then rounded on the man next to her and jabbed a finger close to Ross’s face. "You hear me."

"Don't you worry, Ada," Ross guaranteed her, which seemed to be good enough for the older Shelby girl whose demeanor quickly changed back to her delighted drunkenness, dancing away from them.

As Ross spun her around, she caught a glimpse of John and Esme, sitting together and happily getting to know one another, "Seems like love at first sight." She heard Ross say.

"Seems so," Maggie replied happily. Very soon her attention was drawn to Tommy and Arthur trying to get a drunken Ada under control, "Oh no." She breathed out, walking closer to her feuding family members.

"Come and look, Esme!" Ada shouted, "Come and look at the family you joined!" The music ceased and now everyone's attention was on the intoxicated woman. "Come and look at the man who runs it! He chooses his brother's wives for them!" Ada shouted out for everyone to hear. She wasn't finished though, the woman then pointed at her younger sister, "Have you got some old perverted man lined up for Maggie?!"

Maggie felt her stomach drop at the thought, she felt everyone's gaze turn to her as she remained frozen in place. The only comfort that she felt was when Ross put her arm around her waist, as if to protect her. Tommy just stood in front of Ada looking at her stoically, but the mother-to-be wasn't done yet. "He hunts his own sister down like a rat, and he tries to kill his own brother-in-law!"

"Ada, that's enough!" Arthur tried to intervene.

"And now he won't even let me have a fucking dance! Not even at a fucking wedding!"

"Sit her down!" John barked out.

"Calm down Ada," Polly kept repeating, trying to soothe her. "Holy Shit. Water, right."

"Not now Ada," Arthur whined, obviously devastated the party was now unavoidably cut short. "Bloody hell, you do pick your times."

Tommy rushed over to Ada placing his coat over her and assisted Pol with leading her out of the vicinity and into the family car.

Maggie turned to her friend, "I have to-"

"Go." Ross finished for her.

Maggie rushed towards her family, who all made their way to the car. "It's too early!" she heard Ada cry out as she was ushered into the vehicle. Maggie too jumped into the front seat next to her brother.

"It'll be ok, love." Polly soothed sliding in next to her, before turning to the driver, "Step on it, Tommy."

OoOoOo

"Freddie," Ada kept repeating as she laid down on the sofa in the small parlor. "I want Freddie!"

"I know," Maggie sighed out uncomfortably, moving a sweaty piece of hair out of her sister's face.

"I can't do it, Mags. I can't do it on my own." Ada whimpered.

The younger girl's heart ached, "Hey, look at me, you can do this," She assured her, "You are so strong, if anyone can do this it'll be you."

Luckily for them, Esme had finally arrived moments later.

"Ada!" They heard Polly scream before she re-entered the home. "They're getting the word out to Freddie. He'll be here, love." She assured her niece, who grunted out as yet another contraction commenced.

"I think it might be the wrong way 'round," Esme told them, "I attended three sisters."

"Yeah, I think you're right," Polly agreed.

Maggie squirmed in place nervously, "What does that mean?"

"We should lean her forward," Esme suggested and Polly nodded, helping Ada up.

"C'mon, it's not that long to go, darling," The aunt encouraged the screaming woman. "Push, two, three!"

"Holy shit," Maggie muttered out, as she watched a new life was making its way out of her sister.

"Keep going, that's it!" Polly cheered before pulling out the baby completely. "It's a boy, Ada," Polly told the exhausted woman over the newborn's cries as Esme cut the cord connecting the mother and son with some old scissors.

Polly cleaned the new baby boy off tenderly with a small rag before returning him to Ada, who was beaming at the small life in her arms. Maggie heard banging from the front entrance and if she had not gotten out of the way fast enough Freddie may have run over her. Maggie smiled at the sight of the little family. The feeling didn't last long though, because the front door opened once again, and she felt herself being pushed aside the wall by a copper. Esme could be heard yelling, the baby boy began to shriek, and Ada sobbed, clinging to her newborn to her chest.

"Freddie!" Ada cried out as the group of officers dragged the new father out of the home.

"Tommy," Polly said darkly before letting out a string of curses in Romany before storming out of the house.

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