#ie like turning into vehicles and such | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silentglassbreak · 4 months

Text

Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

That last chapter was…oof. Tough to write for sure.

I’m so fucking sorry my loves, but this one’s not much better. We’ve gotta hit the hard parts eventually. Bear with me guys, just remember, I’m a sucker for a happy ending.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess @lma1986

Part 9 - The Worst In Me

My body was jostling in the passenger’s seat of Laura’s Corolla. I was numb, my entire body like a block of ice. I stared out the windshield, not seeing anything. Not the road, the headlights, the sky. All I could see was rain. Rain pounding the windshield. Odd, I didn’t see storm clouds earlier?

Who cares?

Laura was silent, but tears were slowly slipping down her cheeks. She cried for me. For my torn dress strap. The bruises on my neck and chest. The bite mark on my shoulder that I didn’t even realize I had until she touched it. The slight tear in my panties.

Laura cried for me. I was done crying.

I wasn’t feeling anything. I wasn’t thinking.

I was simply breathing, my hands paperweights in my lap, waiting to be home.

Will, Laura’s husband, drove my truck behind us. I knew that, but I didn’t care. My phone was vibrating under my leg every few minutes, probably texts, I didn’t care.

We pulled into my driveway, but I didn’t move. Laura came around my side and opened the door.

“C’mon, love.” Her voice was cracked and broken. I couldn’t tell if it was rage or sorrow.

I averted my eyes to finally look at her properly, seeing the eyeliner trailing down her cheeks from her tears, her face red as a radish. In any other circumstance, it would almost be funny.

I stepped out of the vehicle, my legs sore from the struggle. Her husband, without a word, climbed into her car and drove away. I didn’t know what arrangement they made, but it wasn’t my concern.

“Angel, come!” She called for him as soon as the door opened. His nose buried in my side the moment he saw me. He was upset, whining and yipping, not understanding. Good. I’m glad dogs don’t understand. I’m glad he couldn’t understand what just happened to me.

“Where do you want to go, babe? Bed?”

I shook my head slowly. My voice came out in a croak. “Shower.”

She bit her lip. “Are you sure? We can go to the hospital. They might be able to-“

My head snapped to look at her, my expression sharp. “No.”

She stilled, her back straightening. “Okay.” It was soft, I almost couldn’t hear.

My feet began to move, but I didn’t feel the world around me. I could hear Laura’s footfall behind me, following me.

When we reached the bathroom, I avoided the mirror, turning with my back to it. She expertly walked behind me, unzipping the back of my useless dress, and pulled it down. She then scurried to the shower, turning it on and testing the water temperature. I slid my underwear off and unclipped my bra. There was an ache in my shoulder when I reached my arm back to unclasp the back, where his teeth had dug into my muscle.

I winced, but felt very little emotion toward it.

I stepped under the spray, Laura closing the curtain.

“I’m going to wait right here for you, okay?”

I sighed. “Actually, can you let Angel out, and check my phone? Just make sure nothing urgent came in, and shut it off.”

I heard her shuffle out of the bathroom, leaving me to close my eyes under the water, letting it wash the feel of his hands on my skin away.

“Babes?” Her voice came back in. “Noah’s called five times. Should I call him back?”

I shrugged. “I guess.”

“Do you…” She trailed off. “Do you want me to tell him?”

“I don’t fucking care.”

My response probably startled her, but somewhere I must still be angry with him. I didn’t even realize it before the words left my mouth.

She left again, and I closed my eyes. I needed to face this. I knew, from experience, that locking it away wasn’t going to help. It wouldn’t resolve it. I needed to confront the emotions now, or it would explode on me later.

I loosened my fists that had been hanging at my side, letting the ache throb into my hands, up my arms, and let the pain take over.

Like a semi-truck, I was hit with the physical repercussions of the day all at once. My neck ached so badly, feeling like it had been crushed and was fighting to hold my head up. My throat burned, a harsh dryness that I couldn't swallow past causing it to feel raw. My shoulder had a sharp, fiery pain that radiated out, down my arm and into my back. My legs were sore, feeling weak and shaky. My jaw felt strained and bruised.

Mostly, however, my head fucking hurt. I couldn't get past the throbbing behind my eyes, feeling like they could fall out while what was left of my brain melted straight out of the sockets.

My chest began heaving, my breathing now becoming uneven, and I could feel the panic rising like a thermometer threatening to crack. I reached my uninjured arm up to grip the wall of the shower, but as soon as my fingers touched the cold tile, like a bomb, the anxiety exploded inside me, causing me to let out a harsh screech.

My knees buckled, and I fell to the floor of the shower with a hard thump. I felt the water on my face, and I was suffocating. I couldn't breathe, my skin feeling too tight. Without thought, I began pawing and ripping at the skin on my legs, needing some kind of relief. My loud whimpering echoed off the walls of the shower, becoming more and more frantic as the seconds passed. I saw the red lines forming on my thighs where I was scratching at my flesh.

My logical mind knew I needed to stop, but I had no control anymore. The sheer terror had taken over.

"Oh my God, Noah I have to go! Just get here quickly, please!" I heard Laura's shoes tapping the floor, running toward the shower. "Leena!"

The shower curtain was ripped open, and the burst of cold air that hit me only caused me to panic further, making me back into the corner of the tub.

"Oh, no, no Leena! Babe, it's okay." Laura stepped into the tub, her hands grabbing at my wrists to make me stop clawing at myself. "Hey! Hey! It's okay! Leena, you're safe!"

"No! No! Don't touch me! Please, stop!" My vision was grey, not seeing anything around me anymore. The water had stopped running over me, and I was getting colder.

I thrashed back at her, her arms coming to circle around my shoulders. "Leena, honey, it's okay. I've got you."

I couldn't find the strength to fight against her, my body forcing me to give out as my vision started fading. I closed my eyes, the tears free flowing down onto my face.

"Please, please, please." I repeated over and over, not knowing what else to say. I just wanted this to be a nightmare. A horrible, awful fucking nightmare.

"Shh, I know. I know. I've got you Lee. You're safe."

I opened my eyes, the room silent, sunlight streaming through my curtains and illuminating the wall I stared at. I could feel a heavy presence behind me, and I craned my head over to see Laura sleeping next to me. Angel took up his usual spot on the bed.

I rolled back over, regretting ever moving, as that only brought the physical pain back. My neck felt broken, my windpipe flat. I knew it wasn't, but it may as well be. I had almost wished it was, so I wouldn't have to feel this.

I vaguely remembered Laura getting me out of the shower, dressing me, attempting to get me to eat the now stale PopTart sitting on my bedside table, successfully convincing me to drink water, and putting something on the television before it all went black. I must have fallen asleep, but I didn't remember. Sleep was easier. At least, there, it wasn't real. I let my eyes fall closed, deciding I would just let that be my reality for a while.

I woke up to hushed voices, one of them obviously Laura's, coming from the hallway. I didn't open my eyes right away, the headache slowly creeping back in.

"She's been asleep for about eighteen hours."

"Has she moved at all?"

Noah. He was here. He shouldn't be. He should be driving to Oregon right now. He plays a show in Portland tomorrow.

"Not since the shower. I can't get her to eat yet, but I'm assuming her throat is pretty fucked."

"What the fuck did he do to her?" Noah's voice was a little louder now, and I heard Laura shush him harshly.

"Noah..." I heard her sigh. "I need you to prepare yourself. It's bad."

Well, that was news to me. I hadn't bothered to look at my reflection since it happened. What I looked like was truly the least of my worries at the present moment.

I heard a hard sigh from Noah. "Okay." And then came the footsteps. I still had yet to open my eyes, now nearly too nervous to face him. Evidently I looked like shit, and that wasn't exactly how I wanted to see him after three weeks.

His footsteps stopped abruptly when he neared the bed, and I heard a sharp breath get sucked in. He must have saw me.

I felt a weight sink the edge of the bed near my legs, and a hand softly reach up to touch my arm. "Baby?"

"Be careful of her right shoulder." He couldn't see the bite mark under the long sleeves of my sweatshirt. Laura gave him fair warning.

"Leena? Babe?"

Slowly, I cracked my eyes open, and there he was. My guy. My Noah. All anger I felt toward him melted, everything was gone. I just felt an overwhelming sense of relief. His eyes were red, obviously tired and maybe even tear-stained. His hair was greasier than normal, he hadn't showered in at least a day. His t-shirt was wrinkled, he looked much less held together than I was used to. If I had to guess, he ran straight from wherever he was to the airport as soon as Laura told him what happened.

Sitting up slowly, I felt my lip begin to tremble, fresh, heavy tear drops welling in my eyes. "Noah?"

His gaze dropped to my neck, my jaw, and I could see how a look of panic flashed over his face.

"Oh, baby. Oh God." I saw the moisture fill his eyes and he pulled me into a tight hug, my body folding into him. I could feel him shaking, obviously crying. "Jesus Christ, I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

I sobbed, not holding back the tears. "Noah, oh my God, I missed you so much."

His chin rested on the top of my head, hand rubbing up and down my back as my fingers gripped his shirt so tight, I worried it may rip. "I'm here baby. I'm not going anywhere."

After about fifteen minutes of crying, and just holding each other, we finally broke apart. He had helped me out of bed and to the bathroom. I used the toilet and then stopped at the sink, meaning to wash my hands, but glancing at myself in the mirror. After I had been standing for a while, just taking in what I saw, I heard a soft tap on the door.

"Babe?" Noah peeked his head in, noticing I was just staring into the mirror. My eyes looked dead, a deep blue hue underneath. My jaw had a deep purple, shadowy bruise that extended from the left corner of my mouth to the edge of my jawbone. Where my sweater hung off my shoulder, I could see the edge of the blackened bite mark, the edged red and angry. My neck, however, was something else entirely.

Navy blue bruises lined either side of my throat in a clear, finger-like shape, the edges a sickening yellowish green color. The sides of my neck near my jawline were visibly swollen.

I couldn't believe it. That wasn't me. Not anymore. I wasn't this person anymore.

Noah's tall frame stood behind me, one hand hovering gently over my arm, silently asking permission to touch me. I leaned back, letting my body press against his. His arms came up to gently wrap me in a hug from behind, his face falling into the space between my neck and shoulder.

"Never again." His voice was a hard whisper. "He'll never touch you again, my love."

I just closed my eyes, trying not to feel the pounding in my skull. I sighed, grabbing his hands in mine, and interlocking our fingers.

"I should've listened to you." His eyes opened, and looked into mine via the reflection of the mirror.

"What do you mean?" He looked thoroughly confused.

"You told me I shouldn't have spent so much time with him." I inhaled a hard breath. My voice was still so fucked. "I shouldn't have. I knew he was a creep. I should've known."

He spun me around, catching my eyes in a hard stare. "Listen to me, okay?"

I just stared at him, eyes wide. "You will not blame yourself, whatsoever, for this. Is that clear?"

I shrugged. "Noah-"

He cut me off. "No. I don't care. You had no way to know the guy was a fucking rapist."

"He didn't rape me." I responded quickly, wanting to be abundantly clear.

"He would have." He shook his head. "If you hadn't gotten away, he would have."

I dropped my gaze to my feet then, humiliated. I felt his finger come up under my chin, lifting my face to look at him again.

"And fuck what I said before. I was being a jackass."

This made me smirk ever so slightly. "Fuck yeah, you were."

He gave me a playful grin. "You get to bust my chops for that whenever you want. Especially if it gets a smile out of you."

I leaned my forehead into his chest and groaned. "My head hurts so bad."

"Did you hit it?"

I sighed loudly. "I don't think so, but I also didn't know the asshole took a bite out of me, either."

I felt him twitch. He was so angry, and was holding it back so masterfully. More and more I was convincing myself that his God awful attitude the other night was truly a one-off. My Noah was here, not that douchebag he was being before.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

"They'll make me file a report."

He pressed his lips to the top of my head. "Is that so bad?"

I wrapped my arms around him, squeezing him tightly. "I'll lose my job, Noah."

"And we'll sue the company to high Hell." He pulled me away to give me a hard look. "Leena, he doesn't get to get away with this."

Two days had passed, and Noah hadn't let me out of his line of sight once (aside from when he or I used the bathroom). He took me to his house, so he could grab clothes and a few things before coming back with me and setting up camp at my house. He said the guys had taken care of the shows in Vancouver, Seattle, Sacramento, and LA, leaving him five more days until their show in Las Vegas.

He had made a comment that I would be coming with him for the last few shows on the tour, but I hadn't figured out how to tell him that I didn't want to. I didn't want to be alone, but how do I face the guys after this? They had heard what happened to me, minus the more gruesome details, and the thought of their sad, sympathetic expressions made me nauseas. It was mortifying.

The bruise on my face had turned yellow, healing the best out of all of my injuries. The neck bruises were now a heinous greenish purple color, but my throat and voice had begun to recover, which was a plus. My shoulder was by far the worst, the contusions from his teeth rising off of the skin and giving a welt-like effect while the muscle was still a nasty black and blue hue. It still hurt like hell as well.

We were sitting on the couch, legs tangled together, eyes glued to the movie playing on the TV, the latest Scream movie holding our full attention. The bowl of popcorn was strategically placed between our sides, and we both picked at it without looking.

I heard my phone ringing on the counter, and I sighed, figuring it was likely Laura, checking on me again. I was appreciative, and would have no issues with her hovering so badly, but the movie was just getting good. Noah hit pause on the remote, and I stood up to grab the call before I missed it.

When I saw the number on my Caller ID, I raised a brow. It was a number I didn't recognize.

"Who is it?" I looked over at Noah, who was walking toward the hallway, likely to use the bathroom.

"Not sure."

I swiped the call open, holding the phone up to my ear. "Hello?"

The voice that came through made my blood run cold.

"Hello, Mileena?" The deep, yet upbeat, voice had me frozen in place. "It's Lex."

"Y-Yes...?" I stammered, trying not to let my emotions through my voice. "Can I help you?"

I brought my thumbnail into my mouth, chewing on it instinctively.

"We haven't heard from you," My breathing stopped. "since the party."

I stayed silent. He knew. His tone, his choice of words. He knew. He had to.

"I've been, uhm..." I struggled. What do I say?

"Sick?"

"Yeah, uh," I turned my head, seeing Noah had not returned yet. "s-something like that."

"Well, as fate may have it, Sam has been out sick this week too." The mention of his name made my stomach twist painfully. I padded over to my dining room table, pulling out a chair and sitting down in haste, nearly falling off in the process.

"Has he?" I did my best to sound casual, but I knew I was failing.

"Now, I think you and I both know that he didn't happen to end up with a broken nose from any old illness." I broke his fucking nose? Good for me, honestly. "And I guess what I need to know is, do I need to be prepared?"

This confused me. "I'm sorry?"

"Will I be receiving any, let's just say, unfavorable news? From Sam? Or maybe the LAPD?" I couldn't respond. The wind had been knocked clean out of me. "Because I'll tell you, having the type of publicity that would cause is sure to be a tough look for Kline to manage, especially in the face of the merge."

Is he fucking serious. "You want me to keep quiet?"

"I want you to do what's best for you, for your wellbeing, and for your job." There it was. Right fucking there.

"And what about Sam's job? Hm? What kind of phone call will he be getting?"

"Ah, he's been spoken to." That was it. End of sentence.

"Spoken to?!" I stood up now, the chair falling behind me. I heard Noah's footsteps coming down the hall. "That's it?! That's all the bastard gets?! After what he fucking did!?"

"Mileena, you sound exhausted." I stood, mouth hanging open, breathing completely halted. "Take the rest of the week, and then give me a call. We can hash out when you can come back in, and how you'll be compensated for the inconvenience."

"Inconvenience?! That's what you're calling this?!"

"Have a good evening, Mileena."

And the line went dead. My phone fell out of my hand, landing hard on the table.

Noah was pacing back and forth on the porch, and I was leaned back in the chair, cigarette pinched between my fingers. Noah was surprisingly unfazed by my smoking, accepting one for himself and lighting it without hesitation.

Glad we got past that easily.

"Those fucking assholes! We're going to fucking report this. And sue those sons of bitches until we own the whole god damn company!"

I blew the smoke out of my lips, squinting at him. "We are?"

He looked at me in disbelief. "Of course! They don't get to just do this, Leena. They're covering it up by bribing you with money, they didn't even reprimand the fucker, and they're threatening you!"

I sighed heavily. "So I quit. Move on. Go on tour with you," I tapped the tip of my cigarette in the ashtray. "or become a vagrant. Whatever works."

My words were laxed, and I could tell that irritated him. I wasn't doing it intentionally.

"As much as I am on board with you coming on tour with me, and leaving that piece of shit company, that doesn't mean there shouldn't be consequences." He took a long pull from his cigarette before butting it out in the ashtray.

"Noah, can't we just put it behind us? Let's just go out on tour, enjoy the holidays, maybe go on a vacation. Remember? Like we talked about?" He stopped in front of me, clear frustration on his face.

"Why don't you want him to have consequences?"

I rolled my eyes at that. "Of course I want that, Noah. But I've been roughed up enough by a man to know that it never works out like that." He just raised his brows at me.

"What?"

I sighed, putting my smoke out and leaning my head back on my chair. "I tried to get my ex put away for everything. A couple of times, actually." I winced at the memory. "I was the drunk girl, who was ten years younger than him, and didn't have witnesses."

I tossed my hands in the air. "I don't think I have to spell out for you how well that went for me."

He shook his head. "Babe, this is different. You've got bruises, ripped clothes, PTSD for fuck's sake!"

I shuddered. "Okay, and he could claim it wasn't him. Or that I asked for it. That I like it rough." I stood up in front of him. "Trust me, they'll say anything, and it'll still be more believable than my story."

The look on his face told me he believed I was absolutely insane.

"He's going to do it to someone else." I stopped then, my heart pounding in my chest. That was the fact I hadn't considered.

"Well," I began walking past him toward the house. "let's hope you're wrong."

Noah decided to brood for at least six hours after our talk before he finally softened enough to finish the movie, and fall asleep with me on the couch. I woke up to him lifting me, carrying me into bed and crawling in behind me. His arm draped over my waist, and I backed into him comfortably.

His arm tightened around me, and I began fading back into the deep, sleepy haze. Just before I was completely unconscious, I swore I heard him speak.

"I'll make sure he never hurts you again, Leena."

The following morning, I awoke to an empty bed, and a note on my bedside table.

'If you wake up before I get back, I had to run to an appointment. I'll be back before ya know it. Love you. -Noah S.'

I quirked a brow. He didn't mention a doctor's appointment, or anything to do with tour or the band? Maybe it was last minute?

I grabbed my phone, dialing his number.

He answered on the second ring. "Hey, baby."

"Hey, where did you go?"

He sighed. "I've just got to take care of some stuff today. Tour stuff."

"What do you mean?" I sat up in bed and stretched. "I thought you said Nick was handling everything?"

"He is. It's not something he can help with though." He chuckled on the other end, a dark sound. "There are some things I've got to do myself."

Something inside me was screaming that something was wrong. There was a light music playing in the background of his phone, and I couldn't place it.

"Where are you?"

"Target."

"Why are you at Target?"

He laughed again. "Don't worry about it babe, just get some rest. I'll be back later this afternoon."

I checked the time on my watch. It was 11AM. What the hell was he doing?

"Noah, are you lying to me?" But the line had ended. He was gone.

I tried to call him back, but his phone went straight to voicemail. He had shut his phone off.

What the fuck was going on?

I had spent the next three hours trying to convince myself that he was fine, everything was okay, and I was overreacting. Once I had failed that argument, I jumped in my truck and drove to his house. Swiping myself in with the gate key he had given me months ago, I saw his truck was nowhere to be found. I did, however, come across Nick walking through the yard toward his own truck.

He caught sight of me and waved. There it was, that sad, sympathetic smile. "Hey Leena!"

He bound up to me and wrapped me in a warm hug. "Hey Nick. Is Noah here?"

His puzzled look answered me before he spoke. "No, I thought he was at your place?" He brushed a piece of long dark hair behind his ear, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Mm, no. His phone's off. He told me he had some tour stuff to take care of? Said he was at Target? Sound familiar?"

Nick was staring at me like I had grown a second head. "No, I have no clue. We don't have anything going on until we have to head to Vegas day after tomorrow."

I shrugged. "I'm just grabbing something out of the truck, you want to come wait inside for him?"

I nodded, following him back into the house and taking a seat on the couch. I pulled out my phone and texted him again.

Me: Noah, I'm at your place. Where the hell are you? Nick doesn't know what 'tour stuff' you're referring to. Call me.

I sat there, chatting with Nick casually, trying like hell to calm my nerves.

"I feel really bad that you guys had to cancel those shows. I wish Noah would have just gone back. I would've been fine."

Nick only shook his head in response. "No way, dude. We'll reschedule them. Besides, it was better he was with you."

The look on his face was unreadable. "Well, it was nice to have him with me. It helped, a lot."

Nick looked down, something crossing his features that I was struggling to place. "Leena...look," He looked up to meet my eyes, looking...guilty, almost? "there's something you should know."

"Okay?" I returned his gaze, now overly curious.

"Noah's asked me not to say anything, but..." I could see him battling with himself, and I was getting impatient and increasingly anxious.

"Nick, no offense, but spit it out, dude."

He opened his mouth, but my phone started ringing, startling us both. I was disappointed to not hear it be Noah's ringtone, but I checked the screen, seeing yet another unsaved number.

I rolled my eyes. "Give me just a sec, okay?"

He nodded, standing from the couch, and walking toward the kitchen.

I swiped the call open. "Hello?"

"This a collect call from the Orange County Detention Center." All the air rushed out of my lungs as the robotic voice spoke. "You are receiving a call from," His voice came through, loud and clear. "Noah Sebastian." I nearly dropped my phone.

"Do you accept the charges?"

Nick's truck parked hastily in front of the building, and I tore out of the passenger door, nearly sprinting to the entrance. Nick kept up with me, holding the door open as we walked in. We passed the metal detectors and security, pacing to the front desk.

"We're here to see an," I paused, still unable to quite comprehend what was happening. "inmate?"

The officer behind the desk looked up at me, and huffed loudly. "Name?"

"Noah Sebastian." Nick spoke up from behind me.

The man typed something into his computer, and nodded. "He's in holding. He managed to see the judge before she left for the day, and she granted bail. Do you plan to post that?"

I was in shock, and Nick gently pushed next to me so he could address the officer. "How much is bail?"

"Five thousand." I stepped to the side while I watched Nick pull his wallet out.

"Can I pay with credit?"

"Mhm." He took Nick's card and began typing again. "He'll have a court date on October 23rd, 8AM. Papers will come in the mail."

He then looked up to the both of us. "If I were you, I'd tell him to get a decent lawyer."

Nick and I glanced back and forth, and he cleared his throat.

"Could you, uh," Nick was shifting uncomfortably. "can we know the charges?"

"Assault and battery." He said it so casually, as if he was telling us what day of the week it was. I deadpanned.

"Who did he assault?!" Nick's voice was at least four octaves higher, now.

"Can't release victim info, son. Come with him to court if you want to know more."

My mouth was hanging open, staring at the officer.

"Now, we'll just need some time to get him processed out. Might take a while. He's pretty far gone."

"Far gone? Did he get beaten badly? Does he need medical attention?"

The man was standing then, paper receipt being handed to Nick, but he looked right at me over his metal-rimmed glasses.

"Darlin, he did the beating. His hands are pretty roughed up, might need an X-ray, but I mean he's going to be hard to wake up. He's drunk as a damn skunk."

My heart sunk. This wasn't happening. This wasn't fucking happening.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens #fanfic

54 notes · View notes

talisidekick · 8 months

Text

Got my first experience with makeup a year ago thanks to my spouses help. No foundation or contouring or whatever, just some uh ... not sure what it's called ... the stuff that goes on eyelashes and the stuff you put on your eyelids. I have a picture of it, I'll never share it, I can do better, but ... it let me put into perspective a lot about my appearance. I'd do it again except what we used was the last of it because this stuff was like a decade or more old and was mostly dried out.

However, a few weeks ago, I had to crawl under my spouses vehicle to take a look at the break pads because there's a really annoying vibrating noise and I was 90% sure it was the pads. I was half correct, one breakpad is loose, but the mount for it is eroded and it'd cost like $800 to replace. Plus breaks are a little soft, and the pads do need replacing but I don't have the money for that either. The other issue is the differential, ie. the part that turns your engines rotationary movement from the pistons to your wheels. Yeah, something in that is rattling around and gets pissy once you hit 60 kmph until you hit 70. Which this isn't great, because both are problems that need fixing but I don't have the $1000+ or so to drop into repairs. Decided to check the oil levels, that also needs a change but I don't have money for wrenches so thats more money I don't have to get that fixed. Got oil on me, covered in dirt, wiped a bit of the oil and grease on my face by accident and went inside.

And folks, for a solid moment in the mirror, I saw her again. Me. Grease covered and dirty. It's had me smiling for a while now. I miss my old coveralls and a wrench in my hand. I miss working on my dads XS 500, cleaning piston rings, doing oil changes ... I hated it all back then. But thats because it was tainted by me trying to be a boy and hating it.

When I look at the photo of my first makeup experience, and I remember that joy, and then me poking around my spouses vehicle and that joy ... it's reminded me that what was old is new again. There's a lot I haven't done: full make-over, wear a dress, ride a motorcycle, etc. and a lot I didn't do as myself: engine repair, woodworking, carpentry, etc. A lot of experiences I have that I need to redo as the first time as myself. The first time with friends even. To go back and actually take joy in it because I'm no longer trying to put on a face.

It's made me realize how much I haven't lived up until now.

#trans #transgender #talisidekick #talisidekick things #mtf #queer

54 notes · View notes

snootlestheangel · 9 months

Text

Cheers to the Unknown Pt.3

Monster/cryptid au ft. Just A Dude!Ghost; canon-divergent, alternate universe. More details here (parts are not a coherent story necessarily just scenarios as they come to me !subject to change!;all tagged under "cheers to the unknown") TW: some body horror (ie eating things you should NOT eat); language

More of Ghost interacting with Lightning Nymph!Soap for the first time

The first time Ghost ever felt any fear when interacting or being in the presence of a monster was with Soap, only a few days after they had met. They had just gotten back from blowing the oil rig, and the way the Scot kept fidgeting had started to make Ghost nervous. He first tried to brush it off as some inhuman creature trait he didn't understand, but he never could be certain. After all, he had never been told what exactly Soap is.

Ghost is confident that if he had known what Soap is sooner, he would not have been afraid.

It had all happened so fast.

First, the vehicles were stopped. Alejandro seemed rather annoyed, but with a small sniff, he recognized the anxiety welling up in Soap. Ghost knew Alejandro to be a werewolf before they had even landed in Las Almas, and he was vaguely aware of their ability to smell more complicated things like emotions.

Ghost didn't miss the way Soap's fingers crackled as he rubbed them together.

They filed out of the truck, only to be confronted by Graves. Tension quickly filled the humid air as Alejandro and Graves argued. Every hair on Ghost's body stood on end as Soap stepped forward to snap at the American. The tingling sensation that accompanied didn't go unnoticed by anyone present, and it left a nauseating knot in Ghost's stomach. He looked at Soap, hoping the man could give him some sign that he doesn't need to be afraid, that he shouldn't be afraid. But he doesn't get that.

He instead got a glimpse of bright shocks running through Soap's mohawk before all hell broke loose. A gun had been fired, and before Ghost knew it, he was looking over to see Soap on the ground, the pain on his face giving away that he had been the one shot. Ghost assumed he had blacked out a bit as the need to survive took over.

He doesn't remember much after that.

Ghost couldn't help the shaky breath that left him after hearing the deep rumble of Soap's voice crackle through his earpiece. Even now, Ghost is afraid. No longer because of Soap, but for Soap.

Johnny can get hurt.

Ghost's new mantra. There was something so intimidating about the sergeant, something so ethereal it made Ghost believe he was the furthest thing from human to ever exist. But, he was clearly wrong. If Johnny can bleed, can be hurt, then he can be killed. And if he can be killed, then that blood is on Ghost's hands.

Ghost kept himself alive, kept himself moving forward, closer to Johnny. It seemed every step was agony. Luckily, the banter he found himself engaging in with Soap helped ground him. There were definitely times where Ghost could tell that Soap was injured. The way he'd drift off towards the end of a sentence, the times he'd take a second too long before answering, the occasional heaving breaths; all signs he was injured.

But then there were the times Soap seemed to be just fine, perfectly healthy and a bit manic.

Ghost never wanted to acknowledge how those moments always occurred after bright, showy flashes of lightning.

Then they were back together, racing away in a stolen truck. The ride to the safehouse started out loud; gunshots ringing all around them as Ghost frantically tried to get them the hell out of there. Eventually, they were no longer being pursued, and Soap was able to turn and sit in the seat properly. Ghost glanced at him as he let out a wince, his left arm darting up to his right.

"We'll get your arm looked at soon, Johnny." Ghost said quietly, and Soap hummed in response. Ghost swore he could feel the vibrations of the hum, but shrugged it off as adrenaline. They rode quietly until they made it to the safehouse, and Ghost allowed Soap to take the lead when heading inside.

"Something's here." Soap had whispered to him after brushing his fingers against the fuse box outside, but Ghost kept his concerns to himself. He especially didn't like the use of 'something', as it implied that whatever was inside was not human and posed a higher threat to the pair.

After giving each other heart attacks, Rudy explained how he got out of the Vaquero compound safely. He and Ghost exchanged pieces of information while Soap wandered off to the side of the room, clearly looking for something. Ghost hadn't realized the sergeant was acting oddly until Rudy leaned slightly to frown at him, and Ghost followed his gaze. Soap was currently prying a hole into the wall, albeit struggling due to his injury.

"You okay, hermano?" Rudy asked, but Soap didn't respond. He finished his supposed task, letting out a sigh of relief as he grabbed a few wires from inside the wall and pulled on them. Neither Rudy nor Ghost were prepared for him to strip the rubber cover off and bite down hard onto the copper inside. Loud sparking shot through the room and through them, leaving Ghost shaking just slightly. A nearby lamp, despite being off, blew its bulb.

"Soap, what the fuck?" Ghost snapped, not aware of how shaky his voice was. Soap looked over at them, the wires still in his mouth, barely muffling the crackles of energy. Rudy stared at him with a slightly agape mouth, clearly disturbed even despite knowing Soap is a fellow inhuman. Soap doesn't say anything, just stares at them as if he hadn't understood what Ghost had said.

"Um, Soap? Are you okay?" Rudy asked, and the Scot slightly cocked his head before his expression darkened and he looked back to Ghost. If Ghost hadn't just survived the horrors of being hunted by Shadow Company with him, he would have been convinced that Soap was ready to kill him.

"'Mere." Is all Soap said, gesturing vaguely at Ghost. Traitors. Ghost snapped at himself as his legs shook and he unsteadily made his way over. Soap watched him, blue eyes literally glowing in the darkness. His expression wasn't the usual peace and energy Ghost had grown fond off, but rather sour and filled with rage. Ghost anxiously sat beside Soap at his direction, and once again was overwhelmed with the feeling of being too close to a lightning strike for it to be safe.

"Fucker poisoned me." Soap snarled around the wires still in his mouth, and Ghost finally noticed he had been sucking on them like they were straws. He looked down at Soap as he turned, and soon the problem was evident. Soap's right arm, close to his shoulder, bore a gunshot wound, and the wound was surrounded by black bruising that dripped away like veins. Ghost swallowed past the metallic taste building in the back of his throat, past the tightness in his chest, as he reached out towards Soap with shaky hands.

Soap watched him from the corner of his eye, intense blue nearly blinding to look at, judging him as he quietly worked on getting the pieces of bullet out of his arm. Rudy took the first and largest chunk after Ghost set it down, sniffing it slightly after cleaning it of blood.

"Fiberglass is your weakness?" Rudy asked, and Soap grunted again. For a moment, it seemed Soap didn't recognize the word, or at least needed to connect it to something else to remember what fiberglass was.

"'S nae a conductor." Soap grumbled, and Ghost let out a breath as he removed the final piece. Soap looked at him again, this time a bit brighter than before. Ghost instantly knew Soap could sense his fear, sense the pounding of his heart, and wanted to do his best to assure Ghost he's not a threat.

"Thanks, Lt. Ah'll be back to mahself soon, dinnae worry." Soap muttered, clearly forcing a smile onto his face in hopes of calming Ghost. Ghost nodded softly, standing perhaps a bit too quick as he busied himself with cleaning up after the emergency procedure.

"So, you are acting weird because fiberglass isn't a conductor?" Rudy asked, clearly still just as confused about the sergeant's odd behavior.

"Aye. It's an insulator. I'm pure energy. No' a good match." Soap snapped back, and suddenly everything made a lot more sense. Ghost had even compared standing by him like the sensation one would get before getting struck by lightning. It was fitting, as the truth often can be. His usual personality had been tainted by an insulator, and it made sense, Ghost supposed. Something that would limit or damage Ghost's natural functioning like blood flow is certain to do the same, maybe not quite as drastic, but alas he is only human. He's learned that monsters and such tend to be a lot more dramatic about pain and injury. He guessed it's because they often cannot be harmed like humans can.

"I'm bloody steamin' over the fact that he knew. Graves knows mah weakness, but he shouldn't. He's a blabbering eejit an' he's nae supposed teh have access to information like that." Soap broke the silence rather suddenly. Ghost turned to look at him, and the fear he had felt earlier slowly slipped away as he took in the look on Soap's face. It was a mixture of rage and hurt, but somewhere deep in it all, there was a level of fear one would expect to see from a little child. Ghost took a deep breath as he watched Soap wrap his arms around his legs.

He was terrified.

"Soap, what are you?" Ghost asked, and the Scot snapped his head up to stare at him. He said something, a word Ghost never heard and wouldn't recognize. Rudy was equally confused, and so Soap cleared his throat and tried again.

"Lightning Nymph. What I said is the real word, but I forgot no one knows it anymore." Soap drifted off at the end of his sentence, brow furrowing in thought.

"You've been around a while, haven't you, Johnny?" Ghost asked, and Soap nodded, still keeping his eyes on the floor this time.

"Mah parents finally agreed to getting out into the world a bit more. My kind aren't exactly easy teh find these days. Much less one like me." It hurt Ghost to hear how quiet Soap spoke, but he also understood something. He understood what it was like to be different, cast out and regarded with trepidation.

Simon Riley may be human, but Ghost isn't assumed to be the same.

"One like you?" Rudy asked and Soap once again nodded.

"Aye, being of lightning was already rare. Ahm sure ahm the only one left." Soap seemingly disappeared into himself as he sank further against the wall, still occasionally drawing more energy from the wires he had exposed. Now, Ghost understood why he saw so much fear in Soap's eyes: he's new to the modern world, a rarity in every sense of the word. His fear is rooted deep, from a time long before Ghost, long before Simon Riley.

"So, how would Graves know that information? About what you are and how to hurt you?" Rudy asked, and Soap shook his head.

"Ah dinnae ken. Ah've never had somethin' like tha' happen before." Soap whispered, and Ghost found himself next to the nymph without realizing it.

"We've got your back, Johnny. Don't you worry." He muttered, and Soap's expression softened as he stared back, almost reading into Ghost's very being.

"Thanks, Lt." He whispered back, punctuating his statement with a gentle punch to Ghost's shoulder.

"FUCK!" Ghost shouted as a rather painful shock coursed through him at the contact. Soap immediately erupted into laughter, falling over away from Ghost as his shoulders shook.

"Oh, ahm sorry! I dinnae do it on purpose, I swear!" Soap exclaimed between bouts of laughter as Ghost kicked at him.

"Glad to have you back, Johnny." He mumbled once Soap calmed.

"Glad to be back."

Taglist (want added?): @tacticaltaxonomist @cthulhusstepmom @cathnoneofyourbusiness @thorougly-melted-brains @sp4z-4tt4ck @49saltpeppershakers @bluebrryice

46 notes · View notes

transingthoseformers · 8 months

Note

Oh yeah. I'd say the transformers baring the beastformers ie Maxamals, Predacons and Ravage their food web is N/A. In a world like TFP they're basically all n/a except for Predaking and he drinks cubes. I'm leaning TFP since i know it best.

Orcas, Dolphins, and fricken octapi would definitely terrorize any Cons in the water. As would the larger sharks.

And humans being omniverous we could get energon from cyber plants, other cyber animals and just cronch the crystals raw as well as drinking cubes of refined energon. There's evidence even as far back as two million years ago our ancestors were hunting megafauna to extinction. And being turned into robots to serve Deceptacon overlords? People would be Pissed. Homo Sapiens techni would be a terror to the Deceptacons as would most megafauna. Scraplets with a vendetta that wouldn't eat you alive just chase you untill you colapsed untill you were too tired to run anymore.

Can you imagine a herd of bison or moose? They will ef up a mofo, and his vehicle. The poor vehicons wouldn't stand a chance agains cyber-ungulants.

Tarantulas where ever he is would be over the moon though. Here you have mechanical organisms retained their organic body plans. And now their easier to fix! Surgons being able to remove and replace wonky organs more easily. Even in the Pit, he'd be swooning with joy. Shockwave would also find this intriguing.

This isn't even getting into the whole Unicron at the center of the earth thing. Would that make us resistant to Dark Energon or more susceptible to it?

Do you think Homo Sapiens techni would be able to transform? Cause in the cosmology Primus is a benevolent diety. Would he adopt the Bastard Children Unicron abandoned? Especially if Optimus did something with the matrix to intervene?

Yeppp, so they absolutely are not prepared for this :)

Goddamnnnnn technoorganic cephalopods would be terrifying, and honestly giving them longer lifespans as a treat WILL probably mean they get to learn more— not necessarily more intelligent, sure, but they'll get more time to apply it. This Will Have Consequences

Also consider: cyberformed dogs. And I don't mean the little yappy fuckers, I mean large hunting dogs and sheep dogs. Imagine how fucking cool they would be, and they too are persistence hunters.

Nopeeeee, ohh. Oh they are in for such a time. Moose are so much bigger than you would anticipate, and I feel like cyberforming would make a lot of these larger herbivores even more bold.

Also bears, don't forget bears.

Tara would be! I've been thinking a lot about Tara but in tfp, and I imagine his little technoorganic spark would be in love with this place regardless of which characterization we're rolling with here. Hell, in this situation, I can see him turning against the cons if we're rolling with a more beast wars style. After all in BW didn't he try to overthrow Megs?? If we're going for Earthspark Tara I feel like he's liable to just fuck off into the CyberEarth woods to study it all. Shockwave's gonna be stealing ideas from Mother Nature: enhanced addition

ooo ohhh adding dark energon into this shit will be interesting as fuck, because we KNOW that shit interacts in interesting ways with energon and if it interacts with the technoorganics... It wouldn't be a surprise if some of the CyberEarth animals that die don't stay dead. zOMBIE SHIT Y'ALL

Adding transforming into this gives us so many more fun things

Not even just including your typical humanoid to vehicle or animal, but being able to transform different weaponry— technoorganic humans and animals alike. Can you imagine if a wolf could have a form more optimized for damage and one more optimized for speed? New opportunities for amphibious lifestyles?? Taking retractable claws and fangs to a whole new level?? I'm staring at a Curious Archives video on "The Future Is Wild" so I might be in the same spec bio heaven mode as Tara is. It would be so goddamn fun if Primus did intervene for the sake of his brother's wronged children, if he (and Optimus, to some degree) wanted to give what's here of humanity and nature a better chance.

#maccadam #transformers #speculative biology #kinda #kinda??? aliens are involved but we're focusing on the earth humans and animals #vehicons #tarantulas #tfp optimus prime #transformers prime #mostly #ravage #Predacons #oh are they in for a treat #cyberforming au

27 notes · View notes

luvdzu · 1 year

Text

🕗 ALICE : 4-5AM | NCT 127 24hr RELAY CAM

“Good morning.” Alice grumbles under her breath, half awake, half asleep, staring right in front of the camera. Snuggling in her gray hoodie, rubbing her eyes awake.

[a night owl waking up early]

“It’s 4am- actually it’s 3:56am, I woke up earlier so I don’t have to struggle when I start… Oh well.” Shuffling in her bed, Alice places the camera on the drawer which doubles as a wall on the other half of her bed.

“Young-ie is still asleep so I won’t leave here for a while...” Alice stays silent, as her eyes slowly close as she falls asleep, still sitting down on her bed.

A few minutes after Alice blinks, as her lips turn into a small pout of frustration. “I need to go to the washroom.”

[the bladder wins against alice]

Behind the camera, Alice tiptoes and turns on the lamp on her side, which causes Doyoung to shuffle on his side of the bed. “Just turn on the light, I’ll cover my eyes instead.”

[considerate roommate doyoung~]

“Okay, just go back to sleep okay?” Alice whispers before the sound of the door opening was heard.

“I’m back~ I was fast, but it’s still so early so I’ll whisper instead since Doie is sleeping.” Alice stands up, fixing her bed before taking out the books on the wall behind the camera.

“If you’re curious what I do early in the morning, it’s studying. I have an 8am class and I study in the morning since it’s the only time I have if I don't have practice so I wake up early.”

[diligent student and hard working idol alice]

Alice goes quiet as she continues scanning her notes, reading in advance and checking given case digests and lesson packets from the professor.

[a laptop appeared out of nowhere]

Typing her notes in her laptop, before writing notes down in a separate notebook, Alice continues her day studying and reading for the next thirty minutes.

“This is a natural occurrence, I do this most of the days, this is even better because sometimes when we have practice or a shoot I have to read in a moving vehicle which sucks.” Alice smiles as she shows the time on her phone,

“It’s already 5am, Doyoung woke up and got me cereal to eat. He’s making breakfast I think, and I will be finishing up my readings, doing a bit of homework and reviewing my answers before going to take a bath.”

[alice is starting off with a busy yet productive day]

Alice faces the camera wearing a pink crop top and black jeans, “I am ready for my class! I’m in the kitchen with Doie~ Do you want to say anything to the camera?” Alice asks Doyoung from behind who is preparing her lunchbox. Tilting her head to the side Alice nods her head before placing the camera in front of her.

[doyoung is busy cooking breakfast]

“Doie is busy and he can’t say anything at the moment, another reason is that Doie doesn’t have proper clothes on.” Alice whispers before shouting as Doyoung’s hand appears in the frame.

[alice is teasing her friend early in the morning]

“I woke up and made you food and this is how you repay me?” Doyoung can be heard from behind the camera as he nags at Alice.

[alice is scolded by her roommate doie]

Alice pouts before takes a bite of the food in her bowl nodding along while Doyoung talks behind the camera. “Go ahead and eat your food, or else you’ll be late, have you prepared everything already?”

[this seems like a familiar scene in the 127 dorms, alice and doyoung eating breakfast together]

Alice nods as she takes another bite of her kimchi fried rice that Doyoung prepared for her. “I already have my bag sitting on top of my drawer, why?”

Looking up, Alice's eyes follow Doyoung as he walks up to their room to get the bag. “Oooh, you're so cool today Doie, what is this? Why are you being like this?”

“What’s weird is you acting like this, as if I don’t do this everyday.” Doyoung scoffs at the female before handing her bag.

[alice never ceases to tease doyoung when she gets the chance, their friendship is questionable…]

“I’m just kidding you, thank you!~ Just put it on the side so I can get it before I leave.”

“Aren’t you running late?” Alice faces the camera before checking her phone seeing that her time is almost running out.

“I’m not, but I do need to end the video quickly. I should finish already.” Alice finishes the remainder of her breakfast before cleaning up the table and washing the dishes she used, and Doyoung’s.

Facing the camera after drying her hands, Alice picks up the camera as she walks towards her bag, “My time is up!~ I will go to my class now, today I’m using public transportation! It would be nice if we're coming together but it’s not my time anymore and I still have to arrive on time. Bye now!~”

[alice went to practice after her classes, do well in class czennies!~]

#nct 24th member #nct female oc #nct female member #nct female addition #nct 127 female addition #nct 127 female oc #nct 127 10th member #nct 127 female member #female kpop addition #female kpop oc #kpop female addition #kpop female oc #kpop female member #female kpop member

86 notes · View notes

the-rogue-that-goes-stab · 29 days

Text

HORUS Slaad

The weird fucked up gremlin child of goblin and kobold, the Slaad is a half melting frame referencing the Slaad, the parasitic toad aberrations from DnD. The main theme of the Slaad is being a parasite, as it takes inspiration from Slaad tadpoles.

To begin, the Slaad steals the ignoring engagement aspect of Atlas' Giantkiller but buffs the soft cover when being in the same space as a character to hard cover. Furthermore it also becomes significantly faster and larger sensors while being in the same spot as a character, and whenever it desires, count as adjacent to a character it is sharing a space with.

For its core passive, the Slaad is able to use its endlessly mutating morph-code literally pooling off its hull to harmlessly climb inside a frame, its hull and components moving to the side like a blanket without any detriment to functionality. While jockeyed inside a mech this way it can still be attacked as normal (hard cover due to above) but is able to use full action on subsequent turns to force its host to make a save. Based on v the type of enemy they gain bonuses. Based on the successes and failures, different effects happen as tracked in the ability. After two failed saves, the target becomes controlled by the Slaad until the it scurries away or the host is destroyed. Don't worry,. based on the host they receive different bonus (or detriments) on the saves. For example grunts or remotely piloted vehicles have a harder time resisting the parasite's influence while a ultra can easily shrug off a slaad (and players auto succeed). if a host succeeds 2 times before they fail two times, they kick you out, ready to destroy the poor Fragile tadpole.

For its core power, it dumps its heat into the victim. If the victim overheats or the Slaad is controlling its host, the Slaad can make the host self destruct.

Truly a little fucked up guy.

License:

(LL1) Green-Banded Targeting Array - hey so guess who learned the name of those fucked up eye parasites for snails. Yeah they are called the Green-Banded Broodsack. I hate them. They make my autistic ass squirm with imaging how that would feel;, a thing moving inside your eye, ungulating. Anyway this system takes inspo from that fucked up little guys. It gives a reaction too when an adjacent character loses lock-on to mark them again at the cost of marking yourself. This is meant to embody the fact that the broodsack ungulates to signal birds so its host gets eaten.

(LL1) Morph Mod - wow, using morph code to turn any weapon into a shitty rifle or shitty sword at will. wow. They aren't that bad, just worse versions of non-mushy weapons

(LL2) frame

(LL2) Cable Talon - a grappling hook knife to fill the singular Aux (not aux/aux) mount the slaad has. You can reel it in as a protocol. When thrown, it embeddeds itself into a target, allowing you to pull yourself towards them when you reel it in.

(LL2) Digital Plague - 1/round, when you invade an enemy, you can invade one of your allies near-ish to your target, (ie invade allies synergy, yippee)

(LL3) Beak.ox System - hey so you know Ox Peaker's how some people say they eat bugs off of host animals but other reports say they also dig into the skin to drink blood. Yeah this is based on that. You target an ally as a quick action, they take a whee bit of chip but they clear 2 heat (wow a whole invade's worth).

(LL3) Cuckoo Module - the best system in this license for the Slaad, it allows it to be considered an allied character when adjacent to a hostile character for that characters effects (such as accuracy bonuses, or defense bonuses, or free invisibility, just a great way to be a piece of shit to enemies). You still are hostile to them tho, you just stealing from them

I love Slaad, its a little guy that is like a goblin alt-frame but risky and mall fucked up. Oh also Maximum Threat was a big inspiration from for this frame, the idea of taking an enemy mech is really cool and you should support GeritzDev on their itch page.

Oh also the physical manifestation of code stuff comes from infection in Horus: Thy Hubris Manifest. This was also the inspiration for NIDHOGG's functionality, coating weapons with materialized invade code

#lancer #lancer rpg #new stelia #homebrew #horus

6 notes · View notes

punkasshunter · 10 months

Text

Thinking about how for all the implications of survivors being lured and subsequently killed by the Witches' crying, however genuine it is (and I do believe it's genuine, at least in large part, but that's a post I've made several times already), as we're playing in-game it just doesn't work. There's the exception of the intro movie to 1, but that's in the context of it being the survivors' first ever encounter with one. By the entrance of No Mercy they know to avoid that sound, and even the L4D2 survivors at the start of Dead Center who haven't had contact with the infected before then are suspicious and avoid them if they're near.

Outside of Church Guy, Whittaker, and the rescue vehicles, we never encounter other survivors, so aren't going to mistake the crying for a distraught uninfected person. There's probably not a good way for it to function mechanically, but I think it would have been interesting to see this in action a bit more.

Ie one of your teammates were to turn and you heard what sounded like them distressed, possibly hurt, and in need of rescue. Our survivors don't seem to be turning (anytime soon, at least), but what if it was something like there being a slim chance that while hearing one of your teammates trapped in the rescue closet and going to retrieve them, they were by the time you found them a Witch who you were suddenly directly in front of and likely to startled?

#Left 4 Dead #T plays L4D #Witch #Idk just vaguely daydreaming again lol

23 notes · View notes

secretagentsociety · 11 months

Text

Thoughts of the day

yandere soulmate au x reader from another universe

honestly for this one i have this vision where you the reader is obviously from earth our dimension but thing is what we considered 'peak' evolution in humanity isn't actually is

In another universe where you unfortunately ended up in, you're the opitome of old,humanities have evolved into being able to do superhuman stuff with biotecth implemented into their organic bodies

A whole language outside of our hearing range and a whole nother world outside of our eyes can catch

So wherein you'll see a vacant dystopian world with only tall buildings and occasionally flying people/vehicle

What your yandere would see...(let's call him...eeh dion.) would see is a world of holograms information being transferred to him and this whole other different views

Now dion is batshit insane,regarded as one of the more criminally inclined of the population ppl tend to avoid him and every one of his associates due to how he look (very scary,very mean and angry looking)

First glance mf thought you were weird he stared at you like you were some sort of alien (you were) but you see one thing about dion is that he's smart ashell and with that intelligence come natural curiosity

he will kidnap you (he said it was surprise adoption) ofc as any normal human would you put up a fight and hurl curses at him which he tried to decipher using his high tech but you see... language got lost over time and The curse you hurls at him is...incorrectly translated

Ie : "FUCK YOU,LET ME FUCKING GO!"

Would turn to something along the line of you wanting to have sex with him in return for another sex where you let go.

(idk what that means either blame the machine)(there's no machine but like...idk)

But you see where I'm getting at right? and so while you wiggle around trying to get free hurling curses at him,his face would heat up as ancient language(it's just english) is translated directly to him as he read the hologram appearing infront of him abt how you wanna fk him like a female dog.

He'd be like weird analogy but still feel embarrassed on how you'd blatantly professed your lust and love at him

#yandere x reader #yandere oc #size difference #yandere oc x reader

26 notes · View notes

squeakadeeks · 2 years

Text

i hope this statement isnt unknowingly swinging a bat at a wasp’s nest but man no matter how much time passes i always get such a weird feeling looking at cosplay selfies that are extremely edited in terms of the facial features.

photo editing obviously has its place in photoshoot/display photos (especially for effects but i feel like thats an entirely different topic) and i stand firm that theres nothing inherently wrong with editing cosplay photos, but looking at ones where theres maybe a grand total of 5 pixels left unedited or I have to double-take to realize its a photo and not a drawing makes me get a bit of a knot in my stomach. to be clear i dont mean like “airbrush out eyebags” or “slight skin smoothing/boosting the lighting” i mean extreme distortion of facial features and heavy airbrushing.

i see both sides: on one hand with cosplay its a different medium to display art and where most often main vehicle of which you share it is photos, and why not make the photo look as polished as possible? after all, its how you’re sharing the artform, photo manipulation is no secret, and if you worked hard on something it makes sense to want to make it look nice and eye-catching when presented.

but then again its not just photos, its photos of faces, bodies, and people, and even after knowing something is edited its so deeply ingrained in our social programing to see something and attempt to mirror it in ourselves that dysmorphia is almost always along for the ride. which leads into the issue of community norms and standards; for a long time now heavy editing has been the standard- but the downside of it being so standardized is if you dont want to participate, you can be punished. this may be shocking coming from someone who almost died from an ED, but i dont take behaviors that can trigger dysmorphia lightly and dont feel comfortable editing my photos in that way, but i’ve had my work cross-compared to people who do by people outside the cosplay sphere, and when you dont do above and beyond editing, your work will look lackluster and dull in comparison.

part of me is tempted to just say “people do what people do, just mind your business and present your work according to your values” but again, sharing things- especially images of faces/bodies absolutely does not exist in a vacuum and one person’s decision to edit themselves in an extreme manner can have significant negative consequences not just as a result of that singular image, but how it can reinforce harmful norms...which in turn leads into a pandora’s box senario (ie once the standard gets updated to extreme disfiguration it will be difficult/damn near impossible to return to the way things were before)

#top ten posts that tell you i looked up cosplay photos in pintrest for posing ideas #and got hit with a wall of dysmorphia so intense it knocked out 3 teeth

52 notes · View notes

emmyfairy · 1 year

Text

Eddie Munson x Reader The Concert pt. 2

This is the longest fic I have ever written lol. I'm glad so many of you enjoyed the first part, and thank you !so! much to those of you who requested part 2, you really inspired me!

The two of you had arrived to the concert in one piece thankfully, Eddie having managed to ignore the wafting of your perfume and warmth emanating from his butterfly nest of a stomach.

The concert was nearly over, Maiden having played some of their greatest hits, Eddie thoroughly enjoyed the concert, but the fact that you were there enjoying it with him? It was fantastic.

Eddie watched fondly as you, a few steps in front of him, swayed along to the song being played. Looking up towards the band, Eddie suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around his middle,

“What-”

Then he smelled you, glancing down and noticing they were your arms clutching him, and hell not that he was complaining but it was out of the blue for your normally shy demeanor.

That’s when he noticed the creep eyeing your form.

Narrowing his eyes he asked,

“Sweetheart, y’alright?”

“Yeah Eds, just, can we get outta here? Before the rush?” He knew it was an excuse but it did make sense, and if you weren't comfortable he sure wasn't going to make you stay.

Instead of giving you a verbal answer he ducked out of your grasp, wrapping an arm securely around your shoulders, which would sometimes make it to the small of your back, and led you out towards the doors of the venue, and out to his chariot as he so elegantly called it.

He watched as you let out a large sigh, shoulders slumping forward as the two of you sat, legs dangling out of the back of his van.

“Did you like the show Eddie?” You quietly asked.

“Of course I did sweetheart, Iron Maiden’s metal as fuck.” He snickered as your cheeks flushed with his swearing.

Eddie’s jacket rustled as he searched his pockets for his pack of cigarettes, rummaging around and cursing his past self in his head until he felt your fingers softly pat the correct pocket.

Lighting his cigarette Eddie asked, “Was someone bothering you sweetheart?”

Truth be told Eddie hoped it had been a trick of the light, because if someone had been messing with you all night and he hadn't noticed it until the last minute, he would be devastated.

You turned your head slightly away from his gaze, those brown eyes a bit too much for your fragile heart at times,

“No, it was just getting a bit close in there, is all.”

He grunted in consideration, not knowing what to say to you outside of his music store safety bubble and feeling like an utter fool. Was there any reason for it? No. Did that matter to the boy? Also no.

Eddie felt a nudge against his shoulder, “-ie?”

“Huh?” He fumbled around his cig.

Laughing, dear god, you try again, “Can I have one Eddie?”

Damn I’m an idiot.

Not trusting his own voice, Eddie wordlessly handed you his box, an end of one cigarette peaking out already, his other hand held his lighter ready.

“Thanks Eds.” You said as you leaned in towards the flame, Eddie’s watchful eyes darting around to ensure your safety from the heatsource.

The metalhead watched as you removed the stick from your mouth, smoke exhaled from parted lips, and his eyes trailed outwards towards the cigarette, a shiny pink ring smudged around it from your lipgloss.

Eddie’s eyes widened at the sight, something so innocent, but the fact that your lips left that mark around a cigarette he gave you was giving him palpitations.

The two of you sat there, crickets serenading you under the rising stars, as the concert-goers flooded out of the arena, one by one all the vehicles vacated the lot, leaving a singular van.

Once the clock struck an hour that would conventionally be seen as improper to awake at, Eddie sat up from his lean, the both of you having migrated down into more comfortable positions, occasionally filling the comfortable silence with small talk that for some reason didn't make the rocker want to rip his luscious hair out.

“Alight, let’s get you home sweetheart.”

He didn't really want you to go, but he didn't want to seem like a ride-controlling freak that wouldn't take you home.

The only response he got was a whine, and a grunt as you pushed yourself up and out of the van.

________________________________________

Eddie hadn’t heard from you in weeks.

At first he was sure you were dead, some freak accident with a windbreaker or something, but just last week he had seen you at the public library, nestled into your usual corner.

He didn't approach.

He didn’t know what he had done to make you stay away like this. Was he weird at the concert? Was his metalhead persona too much? Did he reek?

Okay he checked that one with a quick one-two sniff and he was pretty sure he was fine.

Whatever it was, your absence was killing him. You didn't pop into the music store every chance you got, he didn't get a quick wave when you would pass each other on the road, and frankly he missed you. So much.

Eddie didn't know what to do, he wanted to reach out, but he was afraid.

Because what if all this absence meant the worst?

That you didn't like him.

Not even as a friend.

Eddie shook that thought out of his head whenever it emerged, the gross sinking feeling in his stomach was too much to bear, and so he pushed through it and carried on. That is, if carrying on meant slacking at his job and losing his pep, even during D&D.

Then it was a not-so-special Tuesday morning, sky gray and angry, rain more than a drizzle but less than a downpour, not a great mix for the curls, Eddie heard the chime above the music store’s door tinkle.

Not bothering to look up from the magazine he was lazily flipping through on the counter, he rolled his mouth off of his palm, elbow resting next to the magazine, enough to mutter a,

“Welcome, look around, buy something, whatever.”

Whomever had come into the shop had not moved from the door, but ever so slowly Eddie could hear the shuffling of feet on the disgusting carpet, shuffling closer to the counter, to him, and the noise coupled along with the customer’s silence was creepy enough for him to lift his gaze from an article on Judas Priest to assess whoever was there.

Eddie's heart shot up so fast he swore he could have puked. It was you standing there, wet from the rain, looking flustered and shy, and frankly like you could puke too, which was a look you often wore when in stores if he was honest.

Eddie didn't know how to feel, his body’s first visceral reaction to seeing you at all was jubilance, pure unfleeting euphoria, but then he remembered how you had left him in the dust, and well damn it fleeted.

Standing up straight, a million cool things he could say flowing around his head, Eddie barked out an,

“Oh.”

Real smooth dork shit

He watched, as you let out a breath, then inhaled again, sounding and looking like you were being suffocated, it was almost pitiful enough for him to feel bad, almost.

You shuffled closer to him, approaching like you were a feral animal approaching a handler, the opposite of what he was used to, fists clenched at your sides in a silly attempt at hyping yourself up.

Your voice was small,

“Um, hi Eddie.”

Hi? That’s all I get?

“Hey.”

He was trying his best to seem uninterested, wanting it to seem as though he thought of you just as any other customer, and not someone who had his heart clenched in a bloody, viscous hold, ready to tear away and-

“Did I do something wrong?”

It should be illegal for someone to sound so sad. No, dammit, I can't feel bad for her.

“What?”

Eddie really hoped he seemed blasé and not like a dunce.

“It’s, you, I-” You stuttered around a response, emotions feeling far too big to fit and leave your mouth in an organized fashion.

Brown eyes flickered around, tracing the water droplet at your temple, avoiding the wet, not from the rain, look in your eyes.

You sighed, “It’s just, after the concert, well after that night, we never really, you never… you never called me.” Your voice got smaller and smaller as you spoke, eyebrows pinching together.

What the?

“Yeah, you never called me either.” Eddie tried to shrug it off. Why would you expect him to call you? Just because you planned the first thing? No, that wouldn’t make sense, I mean a girl can call a guy, why would she- Fuck

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Did you think it was a date? Was it a date?

He really, really wanted it to be a date.

Well, fuck, no wonder you were upset.

Eddie slapped his forehead, palm meeting shiny forehead.

I should have freaking called her.

Eddie was quite sure no man had ever hated himself as much as he did in that moment.

Are you for real? The girl of your dreams takes you on a date and you don't call her? Fucking idiot Munson.

“Sweetheart,” The word was bitter on his tongue when he saw the grimace of hurt on your face, “I swear, I swear I didn’t know it was a date. If I did,” Eddie was gesturing wildly around his person while he spoke, his fingers finding his own chest, “I swear I would have called, Christ you would have had to beat me off with a stick.”

You froze, face paling and eyes getting impossibly wider,

“I-I’m sorry. I didn't realize, I didn't mean to push, God I’m so stupid.”

He didn't mean to cut you off, but he’d be damned if he let you continue to feel this way,

“Did you want it to be a date? Because I sure as Hell did sweetheart.”

He watched as your brow softened, “Really?”

Maneuvering himself around the counter, he approached you, hesitated but then relenting when you didn't shy away.

“Yes really. I’d been wanting to ask, but I never thought I’d actually get a chance with you.”

You sound like a wuss man, damn she’s gonna think I’m a wuss.

You very much did not think he was a wuss, and he could tell by the fucking beautiful smile that spread across your face.

He brought his hands up to cup your cheeks, fingers slotting around your ears, bringing a new warmth to your face.

“Well you did. Do! You do!” You quickly corrected yourself and confessed all in one.

Eddie couldn't stop a twin smile from taking over his own face.

“Well then sweetheart, how about we go on another date, and if I don’t call you can strangle me with the phone cord? Sound good?”

He guessed it did because you kissed him.

Please reblog if you enjoy!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #my wriitng #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst

26 notes · View notes

silentglassbreak · 4 months

Text

Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

K listen, I've haven't written any band FF in a LONG LONG LONG time, mkay? But Bad Omens...Noah Sebastian...mmmph. Let's see how far we get here. If you enjoy, let me know. If you want to be tagged in the next part, let me know that too. If you even so much as take the time to read MY SINCEREST GRATITUDES CAUSE WRITING THIS STUFF IS MY ESCAPE. xo

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Part 1 - Burning Out

Work had been long today. Longer than most days. The customers screaming at me had only taken it's toll so much, but having a God awful supervisor who was hell bent on making me late for my meeting, knowing full well how important my twice weekly meetings were, had completely wiped my energy and patience in one fell swoop. Needless to say, I was in no mood for excess attitude or traffic today. Which is why I found myself cursing at the jackass in the SUV in front of me, taking at least a year to make a right hand turn into the close to empty parking lot where the meeting was being held. It took the last of my self restraint to not lay on my horn and flip a specific finger at the driver.

Finally reaching the normal parking space in front of the unmarked office building, I silently breathed a sigh of relief. I had made it, only 2 minutes later than I should be. I began scrambling for my energy drink and my bag before shuffling out of my car and pressing the fob to hear the beep of the alarm set. My poor beat up Tahoe was doing her best, so I never took my frustrations out on her.

As I crossed the parking lot, I whipped my head around to gauge the spaces, noticing all of the regulars were already here, meaning I was the last to arrive. Sucks, given I'm the meeting organizer. Something caught my eye. A vehicle I didn't recognize, a black SUV. The same one who apparently can't make a right turn to save their life. Newbie? The rest of the offices were closed for the day, so I can't see why else they'd be here.

The building is always so quiet at 6PM, so the tapping of my chucks on the tile floors is louder than I'd like, drawing attention to my obvious lateness. (To who?). Didn't matter. I felt ashamed. These meetings are the most important facet of my life right now. I needed to be more punctual. Maybe next time, I'll tell Supervisor Sam to fuck right off like he deserves.

"Guys, I am so fucking sorry. Douchebag sup made me late...again." I announced as I backed into the door, opening it, and heading straight to the table to pull the Crumbl cookies out of my bag and setting them next to the water cooler and Keurig machine. I always brought sweets. It kept the cravings away.

"No worries Leena, we've just been chatting with the new guy." I turned around to see Abel, my veteran, who was gesturing to someone I didn't know.

I went around the circle of chairs, counting off my regular faces, some newer than others.

Abel, Rodger, Syd, Seth, Ali, Jackson, Mark, and Jillian.

However, sitting between Abel and Jillian was a newcomer, who currently had his back turned, slumped forward in his chair. Brown hair, longer than the hat he wore, black sweatshirt and dark blue jeans. Black sneakers. Hood up. Guarded, uncomfortable. What little of his hands I could see kneading together, they were completely tattooed. Even at Abel's mention of him, he didn't turn to face me.

"Oh! Well good! Great job guys. We can go ahead and get started." I grabbed my clipboard off the table, and rounded the group and took my normal spot next to Syd. By the way her hair was pulled back and her face looked dry and sullen, I could tell we had some things to talk about today.

"Well, my new folks don't typically like to talk first on their first day, but just know, that you being here is only the beginning. And we are all here to welcome you to our group. Right, guys?" I directed my statement toward the stranger, who I now can see more clearly. His face is pale, with the exception of the dark circles rested comfortably above his cheekbones. If I were to take a guess, those had been there a while.

The rest of my group nodded, with several of them giving a quick 'That's right.' and 'Welcome in.'

"I'm Leena, the group coordinator. I can answer any questions you may have?" The stranger just peered at me with dark eyes and shook his head. "Okay, we can jump right in, then."

I could feel Syd next to me bursting to talk, so I looked to her.

"Syd, do you want to get us started today?" She only nodded, wiping some stray tears forming on her cheeks.

Syd was such a beautiful girl. Only 21 years old, it was amazing that she found the strength to come to us so young, and work on turning her life around. Her neon blue hair was knotted on top of her head, and she was picking feverishly at her sleeve of her sweater. I could feel what was coming. I always could.

"I...I fell off the wagon." I only nodded, knowing. She had missed three meetings, and unless someone forewarned me about vacations or work obligations, it almost always meant they were on a bender of some kind.

"Okay," As her tears began pouring, I reached over and ran a hand up her arm. There was a reason I sat Syd right next to me. She had been one of my newest, and biggest challenges. Overcoming the demons was an every day, every moment, every second battle that she was still very much fighting. "It's alright honey. We're all here to support you. No one is judging."

She went on to explain she had began with a mimosa at brunch with her friends, who didn't know she was in recovery. She didn't want them to know, so she tried to just sip. It didn't work. It never does. The one drink lead to a blackout weekend and three days in jail for public intoxication. She lost the job she had just gotten at the local DMV. Syd was going through it. She would need Seth, her sponsor, more than usual right now. He was on the other side of her, clutching her hand as she cried.

Once Syd had finished her confession, and emotionally put her 30-day coin back in the jar, we moved on to Seth.

One by one, through the circle, we heard everyone's stories of recent achievements and sorrows. Challenges and victories. Their ongoing battles. Once Jillian finished telling us about her recent trip to Vegas with her friends, where she managed not to have a single drink. We applauded her, because we all knew how much restraint that took.

I would steal occasional glances at our guest, whose eyes would also glance back at me once in a while, but mostly followed the speakers, never moving in his chair, stoic as cement. This isn't uncommon for people coming here for the first time. It's not easy to do, and it's wildly uncomfortable at first.

However, the circle was now all looking at him, and a look of almost panic flashed across his face.

"Is it on me?" His voice was deeper than I expected, with a clear rasp to it that told me all I needed to know about his history. He belonged here, and we were glad to have him.

I nodded. "How much you tell us is entirely up to you, but all I ask is you at least tell us your name, and why you're here."

He bit his bottom lip, eyes cast at me from across the room, looking up through long, dark eyelashes. "I have to say it out loud?"

"That's one of the first steps." I kept a soft smile on my face. Being warm, and understanding was my entire job here.

Abel's elbow nudged the stranger, who glanced at him, encouraging him. "No worries man, we've all been here."

A hard sigh left his throat, ending with a sharp cough.

"My name is Noah. And I'm an alcoholic."

****

Once the meeting had ended, I was stacking chairs back against the wall, prepping the room for the next meeting, NA. They had their own setup, and would be in here in about 30 minutes. Most everyone had left, with the exception of Abel, Syd, and Noah. Our newest AA member had been pretty tight-lipped about himself, only admitted to being 27 years old, and in the entertainment industry. He didn't elaborate further. That was just fine. If he kept coming, we would encourage him further, but AA was all about getting you through it at your pace. As long as you didn't drink, I was happy.

I was putting away the leftover cookies, planning to take the last couple with me to work tomorrow for a snack. I happened to catch a glimpse of someone leaving the restroom, and I noticed it was Noah. Everyone else had left only a couple minutes ago.

"Oh, hey!" I waved at him to come over. He paced his tall frame over to me, towering over me easily. He had at least a foot of height on me, which was hilarious, given I was a year older and 3 years sober myself.

"Hey, thanks for having me today. I didn't know if you could just come to these things." I slung my bag over my shoulder, smiling at him.

"C'mon, I wanted to chat with you before you left." We made our way out of the building as Angie, the NA organizer walked in past us, smiling at us both.

We reached the parking lot, my green Tahoe and the same black SUV being some of the only vehicles left. It dawned on me that he drove the SUV. Well, he may need a driving lesson, but he seemed nice enough.

I turned to face him before heading for my car. "Have you talked to anyone about being a sponsor? The only requirements I have is that they have been sober at least 6 months. Almost everyone in our group is, with the exception of Syd and Jackson." I could see him chewing his lip, his fingers fiddling with his keys.

"No, I...I didn't think about it." His eyes were looking everywhere but at me.

"Noah?" I asked, trying to get his attention. "Do you know what a sponsor is?"

This drew a short, burst of a chuckle out of him, his lips curling in a sheepish grin while he shook his head. I saw his frame relax for just a second, his arm reaching to scratch the back of his neck.

"I don't." I nodded, chuckling myself.

"No worries! I didn't when I started either." I waved him over to the bench perched just outside the building. He followed me and we sat. "A sponsor is someone to keep you straight. Someone who will keep your head on when you feel like you might fall off." He was listening, eyes fixed on me. "This is the person you call when you want a drink. They'll talk you down, distract you. Support you." He nodded, understanding crossing his features.

"Do they have to be a member of the group?"

"No, not necessarily, but they do need to be sober. A sponsor is no good if they are drinking and setting bad examples."

"Makes sense. I'll think on it." I stood up then, stretching up on my toes to flex my legs that had been sitting most the day. He stayed sat, now looking up at me.

"I do need you to have a sponsor by the next meeting on Thursday, though. Have to have one by your second session. And if you don't have one by then, we can get someone in the group to sponsor you, no problem."

He raised a brow at me, a smirk on his lips. "Didn't you say you only had one rule?" This threw me off. Smartass? It was innocent, I could tell, but a joker. Hadn't had one of those in a while.

I laughed it off. "Well, I only do for your first day. There are only a few rules to AA, but they're pretty much common sense."

He stood then, towering me once again. "Can you tell me anyway? I don't want to fuck this up." We then began walking back towards the cars. When I walked toward mine, he followed. It was dark already, so I didn't mind. This was LA, after all.

"Well, the first is obvious, no drinking." I popped my driver door open and flung my bag in toward the passenger's side. He nodded at me and leaned against the rear door of my truck.

"Second, no coming in drunk. As obvious as that may seem, you would not believe how many people I've kicked out of the meeting for showing up mid-bender." He raised his eyebrows. "As much as I'd like to keep and eye on them, it's not good for the other members."

"No, for sure." His tone was even.

"And lastly," I then looked straight at him, so he knew how serious I was. "don't ever lie to me." I could see him straighten just a little, feeling the seriousness of what I was saying. "If you fell off, admit it. I'm not judging. I did, so many times. But if you lie, you're out." I then took a step closer, if only to make my point, "Because I always find out."

He kicked off from my truck, his body less than six inches from mine. He looked down at me, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

"Yes ma'am." I felt a twinge up the back of my spine. It was a little warm all of a sudden, and my mouth was dry. I stepped back, and was able to regain my brain.

I smiled brightly at him and swung myself up into my truck. Before I slid my legs in, I looked at him, now almost at eye-level.

"Great! I'll see you Thursday, then!"

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #fanfic

40 notes · View notes

ashes-writing · 2 years

Text

wild one pt four | stranger things ; g.emerson

tag list babes || req rules + fandoms/characters; reqs open hcs nsfw/sfw abcs || got a req or ? || masterlist

CHAPTERS ;

one - two - three - can all be found by clicking. stranger things masterlist -that needs to be updated just a lil bit oopsie, that's here.

AUTHORS NOTES;

So this chapter kind of.. came out of several different ideas I had all at one time so I just combined them. I hope nobody wanted a really slow paced story because this one might not be that. Like I said yesterday, oops rip, this story has me in a chokehold rn. BUT.. i will be posting / updating other ones and uploading other content soon, I s2g. Also, the next chapter I'm seriously gonna try to do some of Gareth being a big brother bc I enjoy doing that.

I love you all so fucking much, you really don't know how much your interactions with my bullshit truly mean to me, I swear. You don't know how much the comments / reblogs and reblogs with tags / likes really do keep me motivated a lot of the time and I can't thank you enough. Thank you so so so so much.

SUMMARY;

-- cheerleaders and drummers don't mix... or do they?

PAIRING;

Gareth Emerson x Fem!Reader, (beyond outfits / personality and having female parts currently and at birth, reader has no physical description)

Reader is a cheerleader / badgirl hybrid.. kinda?

WARNINGS;

Reader's car does do pretty well at throwing these two together here, swearing -lots of it, girls fighting / arguing + some really shitty takes on what's acceptable for reader to do as a cheerleader, it's hinted that reader has / does hitch rides now and then and all I can say is that it's the 80's and it was a different time / a small town.. Do not do this shit though it's dangerous, the world is definitely not the same as back then and I do not endorse hitchhiking. Mentions of an injury. Awkward flirting / little moments, if you squint, smoking -nicotine,rn and that's it.

TAGLIST;

@aurumbelis

@allelitesmut

@aries-arcade

@cole22ann

@ebonybloom

@heyaitsklaudia

@hcloangcls

@hoeshii

@icequeen1371

@krys-orion

@letsbedragonstogether

@louderfortheback

@musichealsscars

@secretsicanthideanymore

@scoobiessnacks

@thechoiceslookgrimm

@untitledarea - these are all the names on my stranger things taglist. if you'd like to be added, please click the link at the top of the post.

OTHER STUFF;

set in S4 but the Upside Down / Vecna / the other stuff and the deaths do not take place here. Gareth is 18 here, also. So is reader. This is slice of life -but I might take inspiration from some of the other parts of the show that happened (ie, the fight in Gareth's garage, maybe, idk yet.)

The loose timeline here is that this chapter is two/three days after the previous one. Oh and and.. my own bit of a turn on personally is in here. When a guy backs out a vehicle like this kinda.... iykyk.

The car absolutely won’t start. You’ve tried jumping it off, you’ve tried cranking it numerous times and nothing. You’ve threatened it, you’ve pleaded with it and still nothing…Not even the smallest hint of a sign of life from the engine. And any other day, this would be totally fine. But today is your fifth day of cheer camp and you woke up late to begin with.

You’re poking around under the hood and grumbling, with your dad’s wrench set open and sitting under the hood, one in your hand. Parts of you are just tempted to start wailing on the engine with the wrench in your hand, but you decide against it.

You’re already late enough. If you just go ahead and walk to Hawkins High now, you might not have to run until your legs fall off for the second day in a week. But you are your father’s daughter and you’re determined. This car is not going to best you.

You’re standing there with the wrench in your hand, raising swearing to an art form when a throat clears from nearby. When you go to look up, you hit your head against the raised hood and raise a hand, resting it against the top of your head.

Gareth Emerson is standing there, leaned against the streetlamp right beside your trailer. He nods to the car. “Something wrong?”

“This whole fucking car, basically. Having thoughts about just shoving it over the cliff up at the quarry.” you answer, dragging your hand against your forehead to wipe away sweat already starting to gather as you sit down the wrench and grumble to yourself that it’s totally fine, you never wanted to feel your legs again anyway.

Gareth doesn’t say anything, but he does chuckle to himself. You wander over to where he stands, leaning against the back of your car for a moment before hoisting yourself up to sit on it, packing the cigarettes you’d grabbed from beneath the hood and tearing the wrapper open with your teeth.

You hold out the pack to him and he takes one. You dig around until you find your red Zippo and flick it open, striking up a flame to light it. You slip off the hood and stop in front of him, lighting the cigarette between his lips. You put the lighter on the back of your car and exhale a plume of smoke as you lean back against it a little.

For a few seconds, neither of you really says anything.

“I should probably start walkin.” you say it with a laugh, “Because between the walk into town and the laps I’m going to be given for a second time this week, yeah… I’m gonna want to saw off my own legs.”

“I’m going that way.” it’s out before Gareth can stop it or take it back.

Your brow raises and you bite your lip, gazing at him. “It’s probably out of your way.”

“Just c’mon. So you’re not trying to hitch a ride again like I saw you doing outside Starcourt.”

And that damn tone. He says it so firmly. Blue eyes fixed on you expectantly. You can’t help but squirm a little as you feel your legs clench and your panties start to get just a little wet.

That fucking tone he's using on you, it’s a weakness you didn’t realize existed for you, it has to be because when you open your mouth with every intent to protest again -because you don’t want to further annoy him or anything like you seem to be so good at, instead of your usual resistance or the polite protest you intended, what comes out instead is a quietly uttered and softer spoken, “‘Kay.” as the bubble you’ve blown with the slice of gum you slipped into your mouth seconds ago pops loudly.. The answer you’ve just given him sounds more like Chrissy or Em than you and this has you blinking at yourself as you try to puzzle out where it came from exactly.

One of you has stepped closer to the other too, and you don’t remember moving at all. He makes himself taller and it feels like he could easily engulf you and you’re noticing how your forehead stops just above the center of his chest and this sends your mind racing. You’re trying to pull it together but nothing’s working because you’re too distracted by the scent of his shampoo, the way he keeps stepping closer, him, to really accomplish anything.

He reaches out before he can stop himself and he drags his hand across your forehead as he turns red in the face, flustered at the feel of your soft skin under his hand for a second time this week.

“You had grime on your forehead.” he clears his throat and then nods to his truck still sitting in Eddie’s yard. “C’mon. I was leaving anyway. I uh..” he raises a hand against the back of his head after thumping his cigarette into the middle of the rocky dirt road that leads into and out of Forest Hills and he stares at you a second or two, distracted, “I saw your hood raised.”

You swallow down a lump in your throat and again, you find yourself just full of compliance and it shocks you a little.

Chrissy and Em are the sweet little docile ones. They’re sugar, you’re spice. What you’re doing now isn’t what you’d normally do and the fact that somehow, you are, that has totally thrown you for a loop. He stops to glance back at you after realizing you’re still standing in place. “You comin?” he asks, a brow raised.

In that same tone. Firm.

Before he even realizes that he’s done it again, he’s said it just a little too firmly, a little too tense and he wants to kick himself because he doesn’t want you to think he hates you or anything and yet, every time he’s around you, he gets tense and it just happens. If it’s not his face, it’s obviously going to be the tone of his voice.

You’re walking over to his truck on autopilot and it registers that he’s done it a second time somehow around the same time your hand closes around a hot metal handle and you yank it away, hissing and shaking your hand, opening and closing it as you glance up and scowl at the bright blue sky overhead. “I miss the rain. And fall. I’d even be okay with snow right now.” you mumble, mostly to yourself and mostly because you’re still wrapping your head around what’s going on right now.

“Burn your hand?” he asks, gazing at the way you still have your hand against your chest while trying not to let his gaze linger a little too long or anything. You nod. “Yeah. It’s fine.” you shrug it off and get into his truck, settling into the passenger seat with your head leaned back against the headrest.

The truck starts and Gareth backs out of the driveway, not thinking about what he’s doing as he does it, slipping an arm across the seat so he can glance back instead of using the mirror. You’re trying not to stare or anything, but you can’t help it. A finger catches in the bottom of your left ponytail and you pop another gum bubble. He happens to glance right at you and you want the floorboards to open and suck you through, burning hot under his gaze. You’re quick to look down, staring intently at the short orange shorts you’re wearing for cheer camp with their green banding around the legs. Toying with the green strip quietly.

The tension is thick, it’s almost so that you can’t breathe. And it’s driving you crazy. The local rock station finally comes in clear enough that you hear one of your favorite Motorhead songs playing and you’re humming along, even thrashing your head around a little and you can feel the exact second his eyes fix on you beneath that one red light a block away from Hawkins High. He reaches out to lower the radio and you pop another bubble loudly. “Hey! Rude, I was listening to that.”

“You actually like this? It’s not just a defense mechanism?” Gareth questions, gazing across the seat at you, curious. He’d been wondering. He got the sense that maybe a third of the way you were was defense, it was posturing. The fact that you liked the same music only made that pesky little crush he’s been trying to fight off grow that much more.

You nod. Tense up a little, because you’re used to comments being made whenever you even hint you don’t like pop. Or pink. Or glittery and girly shit. What do people expect out of you? You were raised by a single father. The closest to a female influence in your life has been Angel, a bartender who works at the Hideout or Susan, your stepmother. You haven’t seen or heard from your actual mother since you were about two and you barely remember her. While other girls were playing dress up and dolls, you were fishing or playing by yourself in the woods near the trailer park. Out at dirt tracks with your dad when he worked in the pit for a year or two there or down at the Hideout watching your dad play in pool tournaments every weekend.

You don’t know any other way to be and you’re not interested in trying to figure one out, either.

Gareth would die before admitting it, but the little crush that’s been coming back lately grows even more. He studies you intently. “I thought you liked Cyndi Lauper though.” he laughs quietly.

“Nope. Untrue. False. I like one song only because it’s in that movie The Goonies. I also like Corey Feldman but that’s neither here nor there.” you’re rambling because you’re distracted. Staring. Thrown into a total uproar and it’s new to you. “What part of me looks like a lil pop princess anyway, huh?” you pout a little and he chuckles.

“Yeah. I guess you’ve got a point.” he answers, going quiet. Hawkins High and it’s football field comes into view and you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Maybe I won’t strangle anybody today.” you mumble, mostly to yourself. Gareth hears you and before he can stop himself, he’s asking what is probably a really nosy question.

“If you hate it, why not quit?”

“Because if I quit, I’m trash and they win. I’m too petty for that.” you give him a little smirk as you reach for the handle in the door. You’re about to get out but Gareth grabs hold of your wrist gingerly to stop you. “Hey.” he speaks up. “Get a ride home. Don’t fuckin hitch.”

You let go of the door handle and lean across, fluffing his hair, sitting in the middle of the seat for a few seconds, close, but you wouldn’t mind being closer and you absolutely do not dare attempt it. You laugh and shake your head and you tell him “Relax! Even if I do, if anybody kidnaps me, they’ll bring me back in like… ten seconds.” you laugh again and go quiet when you see him giving you that warning look. You bite your lip and giggle. “You’re too easy to mess with. It was a joke, Gareth. I can call somebody or something. Or I’ll walk.”

“No. Get a ride. It’ll be hotter than this when you’re done here.”

And there he goes again with that firm tone. He wants to kick himself because one, he has no idea where it’s coming from and two, he’s pretty sure if you don’t think he hates or is annoyed by you now, the tone he’s used at least four times on you by now is gonna be what does it.

Your breath hangs in your throat and you nod. “Yeah, okay. Alright. I’ll get a ride.”

He seems to relax at hearing this and you fluff his hair one more time before crawling across the seat away from him and climbing out of the passenger door. You rush through the chain link gate and slip into the circle beside Emma and Chrissy.

“Did you just get out of Gareth Emerson’s truck?” Megan’s obnoxious when she asks, loud. Calling attention to both who you arrived with and the fact that you’re late. But she’s not done. “He’s a freak. We don’t mingle with them.”

You roll your eyes and you try to just ignore her. But she’s determined to keep going. “You looked a little too cozy too. You’re one of us. We have an image. Being seen with Gareth Emerson is an image problem. We don’t mingle with freaks.”

Your jaw clenches at the same time as your fist. You almost feel like you’ll have to sit on your hands to keep from just taking a swing. You raise a hand and rub the bridge of your nose. “One, he’s not a freak. Knock it the fuck off. Two, he gave me a lift because my car wouldn’t start.. Not that it’s any of your fucking business,” and you trail off, laughing. “I mingle with whoever I choose. You don’t own me. Got it?” you glance at her with a smirk, “Next time, keep your mouth shut until I tell you I want your opinion.”

The second that cheer camp is over for the day, you’re just ready to leave. You’re exhausted, your legs feel like they’ll fall off and they’re made of rubber because Megan blabbed to the coach about you being late and you’re covered in sweat. All you want to do is get home and shower.

You glance up at the road in front of Hawkins High and kick at gravel, grumbling to yourself. You wander over to the payphone and vending machines in front of the gym but about halfway across the lot, you spot Gareth’s truck sitting in the parking lot.

Emma nudges you. “Ooh la la.”

“He’s not here for me.”

“Why else would he be here, hm?”

“Hellfire? That game club… that’s it, yeah.” you mutter. Emma laughs, shaking her head no. “Sweetheart, there’s no way in hell they’re doing Hellfire meetings in this hellhole during the summer. They probably play at each other’s houses.”

You knit your brows together and mull it over. “The guidance counselor called him.”

“Yeah, if she wants to praise him for having good grades and perfect attendance, maybe.” Emma laughs as she shakes her head. You rub your forehead, wiping away sweat and grimacing because you’re practically soaked in sweat. You grumble quietly. “I’m telling you, he’s not here for me. I bet he’s not even in his truck. He probably ran into Jeff or Grant when they were done with band camp earlier and caught a ride. Yeah, that’s it. It has to be.”

“Okay, fine. But I’m telling you, he’s here for you.”

“And I’m telling you, he’s not.” you dig around in your pocket for the few dollars you’d shoved down into them earlier in the morning before leaving your trailer. You and Emma wander past Gareth’s truck and you happen to glance over and you see him sitting inside.

Ranting to himself, which makes Emma laugh and you stare a little bit, twisting the end of one of your half up and half down ponytails around your finger. She grabs your elbow and drags you over to the vending machine as she laughs. “The look on your face right now, oh my god.”

You flip her off and pout at her. “Oh fuck off.” you pop the tab on the soda you’ve gotten yourself when the machine finally spits it out. “I’m gonna go. Patrick should be out of that team meeting by now. I’ll call you tonight!” and Emma disappears, leaving you to stare intently at the road that runs in front of the two schools.

“He’s not here for me, there’s no fuckin way.” you tell yourself as you start to walk towards the road in front of the school. Every intention to walk home.

You’re just about to step onto the sidewalk when you feel someone grab your elbow from behind. You whirl around and find yourself looking up at Gareth.

You swallow hard and raise the soda can to your lips. “Hey.”

“Tell me you weren’t about to walk..Or hitchhike.” he’s stepping closer. Staring down at you, the way sweat makes your hair cling to your forehead. He knows he should probably step away, give you space, but he just can’t. Every time he’s tried, he only winds up stepping close all over again a second or two later.

You laugh softly and shrug, taking another sip. “If you don’t ask, I won’t tell.” you answer, gazing up at him as you tilt your head to one side just slightly. His eyes settle on the way this makes your hair fall to one side, exposing your neck. He grumbles to himself, you can’t really understand what he’s saying and honestly, you’re too busy staring too.

Which yes, you want to kick yourself for.

“C’mon. I’m going back to Munson’s anyway. Since Grant actually drove himself here today.”

You feel a little let down and you’re annoyed with yourself because of it. You’d tried to tell Emma that Gareth wasn’t here for you. You were right after all.

It was honestly kind of disappointing.

“It’s too hot to walk all the way back. Your legs have to be killing you anyway, I uh… Saw you running around the field when I pulled up again earlier.” he gives you a little smirk when he says it, chuckling quietly as he gazes down at you.

What he’s not saying is that one, he didn’t really have to pick Grant up because he knew damn well Grant drove himself to band camp, he always drives himself, and two, he may have gotten to the parking lot just in time to watch you when you were cheering.

He tried to resist the urge, but when you made the little joke about hitching a ride later or walking in the heat, he couldn’t get it out of his mind and he grumped around all damn morning until Jeff threw his keys at him and told him to just show up before he drove the rest of them crazy. Which of course, he tried to argue his way out of, but he found himself coming by anyway. Because he just couldn’t fight the urge to do it, no matter how hard he tried to do so.

You nod, popping another gum bubble. Laughing softly. “You saw that, huh?”

“What happened?” he asks as the two of you begin to walk down to the parking lot where his truck is waiting. You laugh and shrug. “Megan Connor and I had a teeny difference in opinion. Then she decided to be a fuckin tattletits and ratted me out for coming in late.”

“What about? The difference in opinion, I mean.” Gareth asks before he can stop himself. You swallow hard and shrug. “Just dumb stuff. I handled it.”

“Yeah, I can just imagine.” he mutters. You pretend to be upset, pouting up at him with big eyes and a finger wound in the end of your ponytail. “What the hell’s that mean, huh?”

Gareth laughs quietly and shrugs. “I’m starting to see exactly why people call you fireball or trouble instead of your name now. But it’s..” he wants to kick himself because it’s not an insult, it really isn’t, it’s actually one of the things he finds really hot about you now, “It’s not a bad thing. I mean it, okay?”

You’re staring at him just a little too hard. His cheeks are flushed. You shrug and give him one of your little grins. “It’s really not. Nobody hurts me anymore.” you admit, going quiet.

His truck comes into view and you stop on the passenger side. You lean against the door, gazing up at him. You spot Megan wandering past with Caroline Owens and Lynette Mercer and when Megan sees you both together, she gives you a disgusted look that has you grumbling under your breath, “Keep walkin. If you’re smart, you’ll keep walkin.”

Gareth glances back and chuckles. Catching the three girls glaring a hole through him and for some reason, it doesn’t bother him as bad as it normally would, he just rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to you. When you step even closer, a hand palm down against the front of his flannel shirt, he nearly chokes on air but he steps closer too, reaching an arm around you to feel around for the door handle.

Your breath hangs in your throat when you feel his hand against your exposed back.

Megan glares even harder and all you do is smirk at her calmly. “She thinks she’s gonna tell me what I can and can’t do. She’s wrong and an idiot.” you say it as you tear your eyes off of her and fix them on Gareth again. “I owe her one, she’s the whole reason my legs feel like jello right now.”

“Do you wanna sit?” Gareth laughs it out. “Didn’t you already have to run once this week?” he asks, gazing down at you. Gulping because it’s like that day in the pool when he got you out of the deep end all over again, body to body with you and it’s driving him a little crazier than he’d like to admit.

“Please?” you give him this cute little pleading look that he quickly realizes he is not as immune to as he thought up to this point. At least, not from you.

He opens the door and you climb into the truck, falling back against the seat. He laughs and starts the truck, slipping an arm across the back of your seat to back out again and you bite your lip as you watch him do it because there’s something hot about it. And the instant this crosses your mind, you’re trying not to actively think about it or anything.

When he glances over under the red light on the way out of town, you’ve got your head back against the seat with your eyes closed but you’re moving your fingers around to the beat of the song just barely heard through the static on the local station and humming along. He can’t help but smile a little. “Are you that tired?”

“Hm.” you mutter, opening your eyes. “I swear my coach actively tries to kill me.”

He snickers when you say it and you pout a little, reaching out to lightly swat at his upper arm. “Rude. It’s not funny.”

“Kinda is, when I’m at least halfway sure that you don’t try to avoid it.”

“Bite me.” you stick out your tongue at him.

He almost responds with something clever, something bold like “Where?”, but he keeps himself from doing it. The dirt road leading into the trailer park comes into view and you really don’t want the ride to end. But you know he’s probably had more than enough of you for one day, so you fluff his hair and thank him for the ride back and you get out of the truck, wandering up the front steps and into the house.

Max and her friend Eleven pop up out of seemingly nowhere and you jump a foot in the air, the floor rattling just a little as you do it. You pout at them both.

“He gave you two rides.”

“One of them was probably because he thought you were going to hitchhike..” Eleven says it and Max nudges her, shaking her head.

“Wait, huh? No, he was supposed to pick Grant up but he drove or something.” you laugh softly, making your way over to the old puke green fridge to open the door, digging around for a Tab, a Sprite, something. You find a strawberry yogurt and you begin opening drawers to try and find a spoon.

“Grant always drives. His mom gave him her old car.” Max is looking at you with a brow raised. Eleven giggles at the confused look on your face. You peel off the foil wrapper on the yogurt cup and pull yourself up on the counter to eat. “Okay, no.. But he told me specifically, out of his own mouth that he came to pick up Grant this time. And he realized Grant drove.”

Max laughs and nudges Eleven, nodding at you. “See? See how oblivious?”

“Hey!” you exclaim, laughing. “I’m not.”

“You are, oh my god!”

“Okay, fine.” you pop the spoon into your mouth, “Set me straight. I’m assuming whatever you know was overheard at some point while you were with Lucas.”

“Okay, so.. Y’know how they get together in Mike’s basement to play DnD on Saturdays, right?”

You nod.

“Today, Lucas did it at his house. In that old treehouse out back. And at some point, he walked over to Gareth’s house to get a rulebook or something because Mike was being an ass again,--” Max pauses to laugh when Eleven frowns and nudges her and then she continues, “And while he was there, he happened to overhear Gareth going on a tangent about how crazy it is for you to hitch rides or walk. How it was too hot and lately, people have gone missing because they hitchhiked.”

You bite your lip. Listening intently, but with everything your step sister tells you, you’re trying to prepare a counter argument as to why it can’t be so.

“Apparently, he drove the guys crazy enough that around lunch, Jeff threw him the keys to his truck and told him to come and get you and that would solve all of his worrying and ranting.”

You nearly choke on the bite of yogurt you’ve just taken. “Wait.. huh?”

“He wasn’t ever there for Grant to begin with, Grant was with him the whole time. Will said the band director called it today because it got hot enough that one of the other freshmen in percussion just dropped on the field.”

“Okay, so he was just being nice.”

“Ugh! Seriously?” Max throws up her hands and Eleven laughs. “You were right, Max. She is oblivious.”

“No, I’m not. He’s just… he’s sweet, okay? That’s it. That’s all.” you insist, popping the spoon back into your mouth. Licking it clean as you swing your bare feet against the counter below where you sit.

“Okay, what about the drowning incident, hm? Explain how that jerk Andy was literally right there and yet, Gareth, who was at least halfway across the pool, got to you when you screamed like a banshee.”

“How’d you..”

“You’re loud. The walls are thin. I heard you when you were talking to Emma about the way his hands felt.”

You groan. “Kid, you have got to stop listening through walls and doors.”

“No, actually, I don’t. You need to learn the difference between indoor and outdoor voice if you don’t want your stepsister to know that you think some guy’s hands feel amazing.”

“Jesus christ.” you laugh out, shaking your head. Stealing a look through the window facing Eddie Munson’s trailer. They were all out on the lawn now, passing around a cigarette.

When Gareth happened to glance right at the window you were staring in, you quickly step away, flatten yourself against the walls and laugh at how stupid you are to do it to begin with.

The dryer buzzing loudly drew you out of your little daze as you tried to both process what Max was suggesting and convince yourself that somehow, you were right and she was wrong. “Did you do laundry?”

“Eddie had to put a load on.” Max goes over and heaps the clothes into a basket that’s falling apart and is literally being held together by duct tape and hope and after she’s done this, she shoves the basket at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Go.”

“Maybe he’ll come get it.”

“Go, oh my god.” Max shoves you at the front door and you grumble, but you take a deep breath and step out. Walking across the hot dirt road barefoot. About halfway across, you feel something stab against the bottom of your foot and you put the basket down, picking up your foot.

It’s a little shard of glass.

You pick the basket back up and make your way over, knocking on the trailer door because Eddie and the others have all gone in by now.

Eddie throws open the door and you hold up the basket to him. Then you sit down in the doorway and lift your foot. “Damn it, ouch. Somebody’s gotta tell Dale and those other idiots to stop throwing their bottles out on the road.”

“Maybe if you wore shoes instead of walking everywhere barefoot, fireball.”

“Oh fuck you, Munson.” you grumble as your tongue settles between your lips and you try to pinch and push to get the little glass shard out of your foot.

“If you come inside, you can probably see better..”

“I’m fine, thanks.” you mumble, glancing up to bite your lip because you wind up locking eyes with Gareth, who was watching you with a raised brow. When he wanders over and nods to your foot you manage a sheepish, “Glass?” with a shrug before calling out to Eddie, “Still have that needle you borrowed to sew a patch on your vest, dude?”

Gareth sits down next to you. “Let me guess. You were barefoot.”

“Mhm.” you answer as he takes your foot into his lap and chuckles quietly. “I could’ve got it. Just needed a needle.”

What you’re not saying is you are a huge baby when it comes to pain. And you’re so used to patching yourself up it feels a little… strange to have someone else do it at this point. Eddie comes back out with the sewing needle you loaned him.

You go to reach for it but Gareth gets it. “It’s fine.”

“Just be still.”

“Gareth, it’s fine. Really.” you gasp when the needle’s sharp tip scrapes right against the tender skin that the little sliver is lodged below.

And you’re trying not to look like a giant baby or anything, but you can’t be still.

Gareth glances up at you and you try to go still. He ducks his head again, brows knit. Tongue jutting out between his lips as he focuses on getting the glass out more carefully.

You let your head fall back and tense up. “Ouch! Hey, can’t you do it less poke-y?” you whine.

“Sorry.” he mutters, glancing over at you. “Close your eyes and count to three, alright?”

“That’s not gonna–” you trail off with your argument because he’s giving you that look again. You wind up closing your eyes and doing what he says and he laughs. “Got it.” he holds the tip of one of his fingers out to you to show you the tiny shard of glass he’s worked out with the needle a few seconds later.

You swallow hard and nod. Eventually removing your foot from his lap and leaning in just a little to fluff his hair again. “Thank you.”

Before he can respond in any way, you’re about halfway back across the road again.

And inside the living room, Eddie, Grant and Jeff are doubled over, nearly shaking in laughter. As their laughter dies, he gazes at Gareth.

“How’d you do that?” Eddie questions.

“What?” Gareth has a blank look as he stares up at Eddie, standing in the middle of the living room.

“You looked at her and she didn’t argue. Pretty sure her dad would like to know that one, buddy, because when those two get started, holy shit..” Eddie is amused. Studying Gareth intently as he rubs his chin. He has his suspicions but somehow, he doubts Gareth would believe him if he said them out loud.

#gareth emerson #gareth the great #gareth emerson imagine #gareth emerson fanfiction #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson x fem!reader #gareth emerson x reader imagine #gareth emerson x fem!reader imagine #// reader is a little handful here.#// oopsie daisy

89 notes · View notes