#this is why they call him no jam (affectionate)
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II ║ Threads
Joel Miller x F!Reader
{ Part I: Seams | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }
Rating: M
Summary: When Joel revisits Main Street Outfitters two weeks later, he finds you on your knees. Again.
Warnings: Very spicy thoughts but not explicit, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, some language, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!Joel, no use of Y/N
Word count: 4.3k
Notes: This crept up on me and happened just as I was finishing up edits. I am so grateful, and I hope Threads is a fitting thank you gift to you all 😘 I’m thinking about doing a sleepover celebration, we shall see!
Joel and Pin are back ❤️ They're back because you guys have been so generous with your love, sending me so many ideas and hyping me up - I can't thank you all enough! This chapter is all thanks to Singer machine anon who bravely (affectionate 😉) shared their story of getting stuck under a sewing machine table. I hope you enjoy this one!
A treadle sewing machine is powered mechanically by a foot pedal that is pushed back and forth by the operator's foot.
If you're not familiar, here is a classic Singer treadle cabinet, which is no way big enough for the purposes of this story, so please exercise your imagination 😉
Joel hovers outside the Jackson Grocer’s, arms crossed, trying to make himself look as inconspicuous as possible in front of the leafy display of butter lettuce heads.
It’s been a few months since he’s settled in, but sometimes he can’t get over how fucking nuts this place is. Looking at the shelves brimming with fresh fruits and vegetables outside, canned food and home goods inside, he could easily be standing outside the 24/7 mart in his old neighbourhood. There are even shopping baskets, for crying out loud - stacked neatly one on top of the other by the door.
A voice pipes up from his left. ‘Didn’t know you ate greens.’
Joel scowls. ‘I don’t.’
‘Why are you loiterin’, then?’ asks Tommy, picking up a couple of apples and examining them with exaggerated care.
‘I’m not loiterin’,’ he spits out the last word as if he’s above it, turning his gaze to the high street.
Tommy tosses him a cocky grin, head tilted at a knowing angle. ‘Yeah, you are. And now you’re makin’ eyes at Bob. It’s disturbin’.’
Glancing across the main thoroughfare at the welder’s shop, where the said proprietor is cutting up wooden planks on the porch, Joel grumbles sarcastically, ‘That’s right. Bob is just my type.’
At that very moment, right next to Bob's, the door of Main Street Outfitters creaks open, and Joel recognises Lucy instantly as she sneaks out on tiptoes. She skips down the stairs and wanders up the street in what appears to be another impromptu work break.
Joel’s already taken two steps towards the shop before he remembers that he’s not alone. Braking abruptly and bringing up one hand to scratch the back of his neck, he feels Tommy’s eyes on him.
He half-turns, and snaps, ‘What?’
The younger Miller brother shrugs, pursing his lips thoughtfully. ‘Why are you going to the Outfitters again? Didn’t you just get those new jeans a couple of weeks ago?’
‘Thought I’d get a new shirt for your stupid baby shower.’
‘Joel -’
‘Sorry, sorry.’ He throws his hands up in capitulation. ‘Baby showers are not stupid. Especially in the middle of an apocalypse.’
Taking another two steps forward, a thought stops him dead in his tracks again. He can practically feel Tommy smiling smugly at his back.
For fuck’s sake.
He doesn’t turn around this time, jamming his hands into his pockets and asks, ‘Can I bring someone? To the party?’
‘We know Ellie’s comin’.’
Whipping around, he growls, ‘Tommy -’
He laughs. ‘Well, I’ll be damned. Joel Miller makin’ friends in town? Maria’s right - you’re fittin’ right in, big brother.’
Rolling his eyes, Joel flips him off and stomps his way across the street.
Tommy calls out at his retreating back. ‘Say hello to Pin and tell her we’d love to have her come over on Sunday!’
When he steps inside, the shop is as empty as it was a fortnight ago. Joel shuts the door firmly, making sure the bell jingles, so his entry doesn’t go unnoticed.
Your voice, though muffled, comes promptly. ‘Lucy! Is that you?’
He heads towards the doorway that leads to the workshop. ‘It’s Joel, actually.’
‘Oh, shit!’
His eyebrows reach for his hairline - you don’t seem to be the type to curse. Concerned, he asks, ‘You alright back there?’
There’s a touch of panic in your reply, ‘Don’t come back here. Did Lucy sneak out again?’
On your instruction, Joel hesitates in the middle of the room, talking to air. ‘Yeah, saw her leave a couple of minutes ago.’
‘Goddamnit, Lucy!’
He shuffles his feet awkwardly. ‘Uh, you sure you’re ok? Should I come back later?’
There’s a resigned sigh, then a pause. ‘Promise you won’t laugh.’
One end of his lips tugs upwards in a smile. ‘Why would I?’
‘Promise.’
At your insistence, he humours you, ‘Alright, I promise, sweetheart.’
‘Come on back.’
When he steps into the workshop, he doesn’t spot you immediately. The space is seemingly empty, everything standing still and in order. He sweeps his eyes across the room, starting with the shelving unit and the desk along the near wall, then trailing over the large timber work table in the middle, where a stack of folded shirts stands neatly.
His throat isn’t the only thing that tightens when he glances at the rug under the skylight -
‘Joel?’
Your voice draws his attention to the far corner of the room, where a sewing station is tucked into a little alcove.
Joel doesn’t know much about sewing machines, but he can recognise a vintage Singer anywhere even without the name blazoned across its elegant body. His grandmother had one in her drawing room by a sunny bay window, and he used to watch her work on it when he visited every other weekend. For a disorienting second, he can almost smell homemade cinnamon rolls and black tea.
Little did he know that things were about to get a lot more disorienting than a pleasant childhood memory.
As he steps around the work table, the rest of the sewing station comes into view, fronted by a big window, the light streaming through the glass glancing off the black sewing machine on top of a classic treadle cabinet. What looks like a half-finished dress lies on the wooden work surface, which stands on quintessential wrought metal legs, and between them - his throat constricts with a slow swallow when he realises what - or rather, who - he’s looking at.
The words barely come out, as if his tongue is suddenly too big for his mouth, as he makes his presence known. ‘I’m here, sweetheart.’
To be fair, you’re not making things easy by any means. All he can see is your backside hovering in mid-air, the rest of you out of sight under the desk. It has built-in cabinets on each end, the right side of it backed up against the far wall, and a chair is pushed to the side.
Joel stops two measured paces away, staring down at the curve of your ass and the way your top rides up, baring the small of your back. His eyes linger on the soft skin between the shirt’s hem and the waistband of your very tight jeans.
Jesus Christ. Do you always have to be on your fucking knees in this workshop?
Your small voice jolts him from his daze. ‘Well, at least you’re not laughing.’
He has to bite his tongue to stop himself from scoffing. If only you knew how laughing is the furthest thing on his mind right now. ‘What happened?’
‘A spool rolled off and I went down to get it, but I fell on the treadle accidentally - I think my shirt is snagged in the band wheel. I can’t move at all, and this Singer is an antique - I can't risk breaking it.’
Unfamiliar with what you’re talking about, he probes, ‘And where’s the band wheel?’
‘Under the table, on my right.’
You wriggle your hips, perhaps to help him locate where you’re stuck, unaware that you’re not helping. At all.
He swallows thickly and implores you, ‘Stay still, sweetheart. I’ll take a look.’
It’s been two whole weeks since Joel Miller came into the shop. You’ve caught glimpses of him in between - Jackson is tiny, after all. He catches your eye as he ambles down the high street with Ellie, his gruff Southern accent carrying even in the mid-afternoon bustle, too preoccupied arguing with the teenager to notice you on the other side of the road. He’s in the cafeteria a couple of times when you arrive for a late dinner, nodding at you from a few tables over, while you work up the nerve to smile back.
Every time, he’s wearing the jeans you handpicked for him, which makes your chest swell and constrict at the same time with something like - pride.
You picked out the pair for him. You assured him that he looks good. And by the way he’s wearing his confidence on his sleeve, he’s certainly taken your words to heart.
Whenever you see other women eyeing him as he struts about town - which is entirely too often - it awakens an ugly possessiveness in you, one that twists your insides into grotesque balloon animals.
Fourteen damn days. Even in the privacy of your workshop, you can’t escape that man. The simple touch of denim provokes a visceral reaction from you, heat chases beneath your skin every time you pick up the tailor’s scissors. It doesn’t help that most of your daily tasks are not exactly cerebral, which gives this man all the more leeway to lay claim to your subconscious.
If you believed in magic, you would've thought you summoned him with the sheer energy you’ve spent thinking about him. But what kind of witchcraft conjured him up at the precise moment you get trapped like the bumbling idiot that you are?
One minute you’re reaching for the stupid thread, the next thing you know, you’re stuck, unable to move without the mechanisms of the antique Singer groaning ominously at your attempts to free yourself.
But maybe, it’s still better than Lucy finding you. She’d take a hammer to the sewing machine to get you out, no question - patience is not her strong suit - and she’d be laughing at you for days.
You hear the floorboards give behind you as Joel moves into the space, which isn’t much - when you’re sat down at the treadle cabinet, the wall is barely two steps behind.
The wooden table creaks above you as he braces one hand on the surface, and you startle at what sounds like the vicious crack of a vertebra.
‘Um - you okay?’
Joel grunts. ‘I’ll live.’
So you wait, thinking absent-mindedly how your elbows are starting to get numb. There’s a scruff of boots and what sounds like a brief struggle, before Joel sighs. ‘Back’s too stiff ‘mfraid. Gotta get on the floor to see underneath.’
Before you can squeak out a reply, there’s a boney click of what you presume is his knees as he crouches down, and an unexpected brush of denim on your left ankle surprises you. Forgetting where you are, you jump in reflex, hitting the underside of the table so hard that you screech in pain.
‘Shit!’ Joel cusses behind you, one warm hand landing on the side of your hip to steady you. ‘You ok?’
Up until this point, you’ve been too consumed with embarrassment by your predicament to even think about the position Joel found you in. But once the warm imprint of his palm registers through the denim, it hits you like one of those interstate trucks that you used to see out of your window.
You’re leaning on your forearms, ass in the air, and now - he’s behind you, getting onto his knees. You can’t decide if the back of your head or your pussy is throbbing harder as you stutter, ‘I’m fine, just - get me out, please.’
‘Alright, hang on, sweetheart.’
You swallow the childish urge to stamp your foot. He has no right going around dropping sweethearts all over the place.
There’s a throaty exhale as Joel lowers himself onto the floor, his knees bracketing yours to shift closer to you. You know he feels the shudder that chases down your spine when soft flannel grazes your bare back, heat spilling from his solid frame as he looms over you.
‘You say you’re stuck in the band wheel?’
Somehow, you manage to answer, ‘Yeah, to my right.’
He clears his throat. ‘I - uh - I’ll have to lean down pretty close to you to take a look, is that ok?’
You feel all the air leave your body, which is probably why your reply comes out far breathier than you intend it to. ‘Yes, Joel.’
And with those two words, Joel has a problem with his jeans. Again.
They’re too tight. Again.
There’s nothing he can do as his mouth goes dry and his cock hardens with a vengeance, his self-control slipping like sand between his fingers.
He was doing so good - well, he was more or less holding it together, as much as he could be expected to while kneeling behind you. And of course, his damn knees hurt, but so does his bottom lip which is caught in his teeth, trying to regulate his breathing when his heart threatens to beat right out of his chest.
He already has one hand on you, and goddamnit, it’s taking him all he’s got to hold back from gripping you with his other, to grasp the swell of your ass between his palms, to trace your curves up to the dip of your exposed waist, to bow his head and run his tongue along the arc of your spine -
And the jeans you’re wearing - fuck, they’re tight. He wonders idly if you wore them for him. His eyes follow the seam that runs down the cleft of your ass, the way the pockets stretch over your backside has his fingers twitching, thinking about how well you will fill his hands, and how the slow rub of denim will burn his skin.
He wants to hook his thumbs into the belt loops and pull you flush against the zipper of his jeans, where his cock is straining against - rub himself on you, grind on you, his thighs plastered to the back of yours -
‘Joel?’
Fuck.
He sways as he snaps out of his stupor, dangerously close to knocking into you, light-headed from the lack of blood to his brain. He chokes out, ‘Yeah, I got you, sweetheart.’
Get it together, you dirty bastard.
He’s careful to leave a couple of inches between his front and your ass when he bends his elbows and ducks so he can peer beneath the desk. His chest pressed flat against your lower back, he can see the bunched fabric of your shirt where it’s caught.
‘Yup, you’re right, your shirt is snagged tight in there.’
‘Can you untangle it?’
‘Think so, but I’ll need both hands.’ He pauses. ‘I’d better get on my back under you.’
You swear you’re going to black out.
‘Pin?’ he prompts when you’ve been quiet a beat too long.
‘I - um, what do you mean by going under me?’
‘If I’m on my back, I can use both my hands, like a mechanic under a car,’ he explains. ‘If you’re uncomfortable, I can find another way -’
‘No!’ you blurt out, wincing at the desperation in your tone. ‘I mean - whatever is easiest for you. You’re the one doing me a favour here.’
‘Alright,’ he says, placated by your reassurance. ‘On your hands and knees then, sweetheart.’
Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head. Oh, come on. Can he hear himself?
Scraping together your last vestiges of control, you push up on your palms to make space underneath you. You have to consciously lock your elbows - your joints suddenly feel like barely set pudding.
‘Move as far to your right as possible so I can slide in.’
Shuffling on your hands and knees until you’re pressed up against the band wheel, you hear the brush of fabric on wood - must be his back against the floorboards as he slides in. To say it’s a squeeze is an understatement. His broad shoulders brush the front of your thighs as he inches in, and then, his face appears under yours, head between your hands.
His lips quirk. ‘Hi, sweetheart.’
Your breath hitches at his proximity, your wrists brushing the soft red flannel he’s wearing today. ‘Hi.’
‘You ok?’ he asks.
You’re this close to pouting. What does he think? There’s a telltale stickiness between your legs that you’re frantically trying to push to the back of your mind while you mmhmm noncommittally, hoping that he doesn’t smell your want in the tiny, claustrophobic space you’re now both caught in.
You can only assume that he’s none the wiser, since the next thing that comes of his mouth is -
‘Climb on top of me so I can slide in closer to the band wheel.’
Someone might as well say your last rites. This is the end.
You’re taken aback when your limbs start to move on autopilot, because your faculties have well and truly abandoned ship. One trembling leg attempts to swing itself over the solid breadth of his body, but it wobbles like jelly, and your knee ends up connecting firmly with his stomach instead of landing clear on his other side.
At his grunted oomph, you panic and bang your head on the underside of the table again, which sends your whole weight sprawling onto his front with a yelp.
Joel cradles the back of your scalp with one hand. ‘Shit, you ok, sweetheart?’
The seams of your lashes sting, your head smarting with the impact, and you blink drily as your gaze focuses on Joel under you. He’s so close that you can see flecks of gold in his brown eyes, his breath hitting your face in warm puffs. Your glance at his lips, and with that one little motion, all goes quiet.
He watches you back, neither of you breathing, and in the stillness you realise that you’re fully straddling him, your palms pressing into the hard floor on either side of his ears. Your tits are crushed up against his ribs, his soft tummy warmly cushioned under you. Lower still, where your hips are nestled into the spread of his thick thighs, something stiff and long and insistent presses into you -
Your jaw goes slack when it dawns on you.
Oh god.
He’s hard.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Joel breaks the silence, a pained frown on his brow as he shakes his head. ‘This is embarrassin’. Couldn’t fuckin’ help it, seein’ you in those jeans -’
Tongue-tied, you can only stare at him, wishing you were brave enough to say something. Tell him that you pulled extra shifts to buy this particular pair of jeans, knowing that they flatter your figure. That you’ve worn them almost every day these two weeks, hoping that he’d swing by again.
But you can’t.
So you pray that he can see what you can’t say by the way you’re looking at him, by the way your heart races wildly in your ribcage against his chest.
His voice cracks. ‘I understand if you want me to go -’
You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth and cut in, ‘Don’t.’
His warm eyes widen, something like hopefulness in the way he looks up at you. ‘You don’t want me to go?’
You press your body closer into his, filling in the gaps. ‘No. Please don’t, Joel.’
He leans forward, so close that you can feel the phantom burn of his silvered beard, his palms finding the meat of your legs, blunt nails biting into the denim.
He really should be ashamed of himself, at the way his cock pulses unabashedly, nudged right between your thighs as you stare down at him, lips parted. He’s hard enough that he worries if there’s a wet spot of precum on the front of his jeans - he can feel himself leaking through his boxers.
The wicked tip of your tongue traces a wet trail on your bottom lip, and he almost chokes on a half-buried groan deep in his chest. He knows that you don’t even know you’re doing it - and in turn, what that does to him.
It would be easy to close the two-inch gap between you. To kiss you, taste you, lick into your sweet mouth. All he needs to do is to cup the back of your head and pull you down, or crane his neck and press his lips to yours -
And Joel is someone who always follows the path of least resistance.
But - he wants to do right by you. He knows you deserve more than a quick fumble under a table.
Sucking in a shaky breath, Joel steels himself and brushes a chaste thumb over your cheekbone. ‘Let’s get you out of here, and then we can talk, ok?’
It’s almost perverse the way his chest warms at the flicker of disappointment in your eyes as you give a reluctant nod, ‘Ok. Please be careful, the Singer’s really delicate.’
It’s hard to focus - his attention keeps drifting to how snugly you fit into his chest, between his arms, and it’s not a stretch to imagine a soft mattress underneath his back. It's funny how quickly his body has adjusted to creature comforts after months of sleeping on the cold winter ground.
Joel’s mindful that an antique sewing machine will be a pain in the ass to repair without the requisite parts, so he moves carefully, gently coaxing the band wheel back and forth to see how he can extract you. It doesn’t take long to loosen the grip of the metal teeth on your shirt, but he has to reach up and untangle the threads snagged into the mechanisms one by one.
He muses idly that this is not his method. These hands of his, with crooked knuckles that never healed right, where many a dagger, knife, gun, rifle have found a home - they break things, people.
When was the last time someone asked gentleness of him?
He wants to scoff. That’s not what he’s good for.
Despite himself, his throat rumbles with a hum of satisfaction when the band wheel finally lets go of your shirt, the Singer whirring to life as it spins freely. He gives you a lopsided smile. ‘There you go, sweetheart.’
You smile, but don’t seem to be in a hurry to move, which pleases him. He likes looking at you from this angle, relishing in your weight on him. He takes his time running his eyes over your face, his palms coming to rest on your knees.
You duck your head prettily. ‘Thank you, Joel.'
He gives you a playful shrug. ‘Well, I owed you one for these jeans.’
You roll your eyes in good humour. ‘Actually, I told you specifically that you didn’t.’
Joel basks in the lighthearted turn in the conversation, egging you on, ‘Well, in that case, you owe me one for this instead.’
‘That’s hardly fair -’ you chide him, punching him in the shoulder in a half-hearted rebuke.
Taking the opportunity, he grabs you by the wrist, the contact prompting a bodily shudder from you that he doesn’t miss. He smirks, ‘M’fraid I don’t play fair, sweetheart.’
You glare at him in mock sternness, bold enough to demand, ‘Fine - what do you want then, Joel Miller?’
For a split second, he hesitates, woefully out of practice at whatever it is that he’s about to do. Swallowing his self-doubt, he asks, ‘Tommy and Maria are throwing a baby shower on Sunday at their house - do you want to come?’
Your shoulders stiffen. Now, that you were not expecting. Your social anxiety bubbles between your ribs and looms over you like a spector. You sputter, ‘Um, I -’
You start when his fingers draw soothing circles on the top of your knees, as if seeing straight through the source of your apprehension. He reassures you, ‘Lucy is welcome to join too. The more the merrier.’
Your eyes soften. ‘Ok. I’d love to.’
The endearing way the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles has you swaying towards him, his nose just brushing the side of yours - when the doorbell rings, cutting through the loaded silence.
In your haste to sit up, you knock your head against the table for a third time.
‘Ow!’ you cry. Even Joel flinches at the hard hit.
Lucy calls out, sounding dangerously close. ‘Pin? You ok, hon?’
‘Shit!’ You start scrambling backwards, bent over awkwardly, convinced that you’re one more blow away from a concussion. You’ve barely scrambled onto your feet when Lucy steps into the workshop, the world tilting on its axis for a moment as blood rushes to your brain.
She watches in amusement as Joel drags himself from under the sewing station, head cocked to one side. ‘Hi again, stranger. You really like our shop, don’t you?’
His shirt is rumpled from where you sat on him, bits of his curls sticking up. He rubs the back of his neck, as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar. ‘I just swung by to, uh, invite you and Pin to the baby shower. Tommy and Maria’s. This Sunday.’
Lucy crosses her arms, arching an eyebrow. ‘And it’s a tradition where you’re from to talk about weekend plans under a table?’
You narrow your eyes at her. ‘Luce -’
She winks. ‘You know what? I don’t need to know the gory details - but I’m in. See you Sunday, Miller!’
Joel huffs a chuckle as Lucy disappears into the front of the shop, leaving you two alone. You smile, suddenly shy for no reason, twining your fingers to stop from fidgeting. ‘Thanks again, Joel.’
He shrugs it off, a touch of boldness in the way he stands, hands in pockets, hips cocked. ‘Pleasure was all mine, sweetheart.’
Instead of heading in the direction of the door, he takes two long strides towards you, leaning down to murmur in your ear, ‘Wear those jeans for me again on Sunday?’
Stunned, you gape at him as he turns with a crooked grin and walks off, dispatching a two-fingered salute at Lucy as he goes. Pausing by the threshold, Joel gives you one last wink that has your breath stuttering - but you only allow yourself to sag against the wall when the door closes behind him, your knees giving.
Lucy wastes no time skipping back into the workshop, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. ‘Alright, time to raid the party clothes rack, girl!’
You laugh - Sunday can’t come fast enough.
Notes: I had the best time writing this chapter - it was fun to flip the tables on Pin, not that Joel comes out completely unscathed!
I definitely have ✨ideas✨ for these two, but I'm enjoying keeping things loose, so I have no plans to turn this into a full-blown series just yet. I hope you enjoyed this instalment, comments/reblogs/asks are so so appreciated as always ❤️
#fuckyeahseams#tlou fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller imagine#joel miller fic#joel miller x female reader
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Kinktober | 3. Breeding with Eddie Munson
Summary: Eddie finds inspiration for the first time that he wants kids. You mistake it at first and it leads to him breeding you.
Warnings: Rockstar!EddiexWife!Reader, soft, soft smut, mentions of pussy eating and anal, living the domestic dream on the tour bus over here, unprotected p in v sex,
A/N: Get ready for the softest breeding kink that you're ever gonna read. *Debbie Ryan hair tuck*. Eddie just makes me so soft.
Eddie was in the middle of his introduction when he spotted something in the crowd that silenced him. He completely stopped in his tracks on stage despite the roar of the crowd.
You were back stage already, grinning as you watched him. (It wasn't very hard for him to convince you to quit your job so you could tour with the bad after Corroded Coffin hit they're big break and got signed by a record label.
It had been a long way since Eddie trading you joints for cigarette in the freshman bathroom.
"Oh my god," he calls over the mic. "Is that a kid?"
A kid? Who the hell brings a kid to a metal concert? And with that, you peek around the curtain to see there was in fact a grinning toddler perched on his Dad's shoulders. His mom, in cute little pastels and long skirts stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd and you assume that's why Eddie notices the..
They call something up to Eddie as he trots across the stage. He goes as far as to kneel at the edge of the stage. The motion he gives them makes them grin. Come up on stage, it says. Mom looks even more nervous but her counter part drags her up with them up.
"Everybody give it up to future axe grinder, Dylan!" There's excited screaming from the crowd as Dylan bounces around. It's sickeningly cute to watch him bounce around. So you wave mom down when you see her. She hesitantly trots over and introduces herself as Linda when you hold out your hand.
"I figure you're not often at these?"
"No, um... I didn't want him to get lost."
"Shouldn't get lost on stage, no worries."
"The front man, he's very sweet."
"That's my husband," you tell her proudly. You both watch the set, proudly watching the toddler several times join in with Eddie and singing, jamming with his dad on stage. The crowd loves it even if the set manager is tearing his hair out back stage.
"Do you guys have kids?" She asks near the end, smiling proudly at her son having a blast.
"Oh, no, no, no," you quickly brush off. "Eddie's not the kid type," you smile back.
"Really, because he's so good with Dylan." You smile out at the stage. This is absolutely what you expect him to be like as a dad. Probably a push over. Probably spoil the kid like he's always done with you. It makes you smile warmly.
"He is." You murmur.
It's later that night, really early the next morning, after you turned in early that Eddie closes the door at the back of the bus and trudged inside. "Hey, baby," he greets, shuffling around the edge of the bed to lean down and kiss you. He tasted like cigarettes and cheap beer still.
"Brush your teeth before you come to bed, please," you whine. He chuckles as he sinks onto the edge of the bed. You're still heavy with sleep, but you'd heard the ruckus of the boys climbing onto the bus, despite them trying to be quiet.
The room was tiny, cramped, but the rest of the boys insisted when they offered you to join the tour. You loved you boys. Always sweet. They let you mother hen them affectionately. Cooking breakfast in the tiny kitchen saved them a lot of money on stopping at diners. That was half the fun of this.
"I will, I will," he promises you. "Gareth's in the bathroom." And the bathroom on the bus barely fit one person. Not that you and Eddie hadn't both managed it for shower sex. You had it down to a science about now.
Eddie's unlacing his boots beside you. "That kid tonight," he starts, grinning over at you as you adjust under the covers. To face your husband more firmly. "He was really something."
"It was really cool what you did."
"Roger's gonna have my head in the morning. He complained that you turned in early without me," he laughs quietly.
"You're going to give him a heart attack one of these days." Eddie gives you a grin and leans towards you on his elbow as he kicks his boots off. He straightens back up, hand gliding over your hip and side as he soaks up the quiet moment. Probably the first quiet moment he's had all night. You can see the exhaustion on his face.
"He'll get over it. Who knows. Maybe he'll sign that kid one day. He was pretty good with the guitar. His dad was really cool. His mom said nice things about you."
"Did she now?" He nods and you watch him look down at his feet quietly. Exhaustion you think at first, but you watch his brow furrow and know it's not just that. "What's on your mind, baby?"
He shakes his head and passing you a soft smile. "You," he hums and then drags his shirt over his head with a quiet groan and tosses it into the corner as he works at his belt next.
"I'm a little worried about that look."
"Don't be," he hums leaning over to kiss your forehead, "You know thinking isn't my strong suit. Just takes a lot of effort," he jests and you lift a hand to stroke his cheeks, putting up with the reek of booze and cigarettes for the tender moment. He stands, dropping his pants and kicking them into the corner with the rest of his clothes. He snags his pajama bottoms from the bottom of the bed where he left them yesterday.
"I'm going to go brush my teeth," he hums, leaning over to rub his hand across the blankets to find your calf. You loved that he never seemed to want to stop touching you. "When I come back, what are my chances of, uh, fucking you?" He flashes you a mischievous grin as he gives you heady once over despite not being able to see your body twisted in the heavy blankets.
Your own groggy smile is sent his way as you burrow into your blankets a little more. You should have seen this coming. Nights like this it takes him a while to settle down. It's a good way to work off all the wired energy he carries from the show.
"I'm sleepy," you whine softly, still not a 'no', he knows. Your thighs are being rubbed over the covers.
"I can lick your pussy until you fall asleep if you want." Ahh. He was feeling needy tonight for sure. It's cute.
"Okay," you hum affectionately. His smile melts like honey. It becomes sweet and warm as he untucks one of your feet to momentarily drag it up to his mouth and press a lingering kiss. When the blanket lowers again, he makes sure to tuck you in around your feet and you giggle quietly.
You both know that you're more than willing to groggily participate in his midnight shenanigans.
You must drift off again because it's the bed protesting and shifting as he climbs over the blankets and up to press a minty kiss to your cheek.
You melt when you catch the whiff of his fading deodorant and his natural scent. The one that you'll wake up to in the morning. The smell of sweat and grim and Eddie musk. He props his chin up on your shoulder and wraps you up in a one-armed hug. More so draping across you than actually snuggling you. "You're not getting under the covers?"
"I've got a question for you first," he urges, brushing your hair out of your face.
"What's that?" You reply twisting to lay on your back, to face him beneath the top sheet.
He's quiet for a moment and in the light of streetlights shining through the slotted blinds, you make out the expression that concerned you earlier. "Do..." He hesitates. "Do you want a baby?"
"A baby?" You reply with soft confusion.
"Yeah." He confirms, with his eyes all worried. You watch them dart across his face. The worry on his face scares you. The doubt he's conveying is prickling your chest with hurt.
"You don't want them," you whisper back.
"That's... that's not what I asked." You adjust closer, cupping his face in your hands.
"Eddie, I'm so incredibly happy with you baby. Nothing will ever make me change my mind about wanting to be with you." Eddie's expression morphs into confusion at first before amusement and he gives you an awkward and breathless laugh.
"No, you... you're going the wrong direction, sweetheart." He adjusts more eagerly, leaning down to press a delighted kiss to your mouth. It's a lingering one this time. When he draws back then, fixing you with an affectionate gaze. "I'm... trying to ask... do you want to make a baby?"
Oh. You feel butterflies fill your belly, and your suddenly aware of how his arm had shifted around you and he'd been dragging his hand over your belly. Your breath stutters suddenly.
"Eddie baby, we're on tour for another three months, is now the best timing?"
"Now is perfect timing. We'll probably tour again in the next few years. I'll quit drinking with you." He throws out. You give him a little chuckle, bumping your forehead against his.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" You hum.
"Say the word."
A smile stretches wide across your face. "Put a baby in me, Eddie." He lets out this stuttered little groan. He only allows you to kiss him once before he's climbing out of bed. "What? Where are you going?" You gasp. He flashes you a grin and pulls your purse out of the tiny, tiny closet.
Apparently, that's your only response as he rifles through it. You watch him, letting your legs stretch out below the sheets. "Ah, found it."
He holds up a familiar dial. Your birth control. He makes a show of dropping it into the tiny trash can. You can't help but laugh at the display. "How long does it take to leave your system?" he wonders aloud, far too much energy in him after the long night. But he wastes no further time pulling back the covers and climb into your waiting arms.
"I don't know," you giggle, dragging him close to kiss him. He gives a heady groan against your mouth, slotting against you with a gentleness you didn't expect. It feels nice as he drags the covers up over you both and sinks against your frame.
A familiar stiffness greets you between your legs and you gasp. "Eddie," you laugh around his mouth, "are you already hard?" He leans in to nibble below your ear gently.
"Mhmm," he hums, rocking against you playfully. "Been thinking all night about how you'd look with a kid on your hip and your belly already full again."
All playfulness dries up at that, like once the words were spoken, you were both hungry for it beyond measure. You're dragging his mouth back to yours and squirming to get your pants off as fast as you can. He's adjusting above you, letting you follow his mouth when he crouches and helps drag your pants and panties off you entirely. You wouldn't need them now that your personal space heater was in bed with you.
In moments, Eddie is hiking your thighs up over his suddenly. His fingers twisting into the flesh with only enough pleasure to showcase his desperate love for you, not to hurt you. There was a delicacy that he'd rarely used during sex.
You'd asked him about it once only to be knocked breathless by his explanation. Sprawled out on his chest the night he proposed, after some of the sweetest sex you'd ever had in your life, he was smoking a cigarette and playing with your hair. "Sometimes," he hums, "I just... love you so much my heart feels like it's about to explode. And so, I try to be careful not to hurt you because... I just want to be a part of you so bad."
You help him, breaking away momentarily, curling your legs up and apart to give him access to as much as he wanted despite the chill of the bus's air. Eddie is always a lovely sight; it still sends a thrill through you as he shoves his boxers and pajamas down his thighs and springs into the low light. "Eddie," you murmur, giving him your best come hither eyes.
He murmurs your name back as he angles his hips closer to you. You give a gasp when he parts your folds on the head of his cock, rocking through your parted labia to nudge your clit. "Shit, your so wet already," he mutters out, "Bet- uhn - Bet I could slide right in."
"Want it," you profess. His eyes snap to yours and he's lining up with you. Before he pushes himself inside, he hooks you knees over his shoulders, leaning down to rest his forehead back against your head. The position strains your hips, but you don't have to think about it very long.
"What is it you want?" He whispers and you see the blanat need in his eyes. You pant below him, eyes filling with desperate tears already.
"Your cock... and your baby."
He's a goner, his mouth devouring you as he thrusts forward and meets your end. You both gasp together. It makes him slow for just a moment.
"Holy shit," he breathes out before diving his tongue into yours. And then he's fucking you slowly. His cock sinks into you before he drags it back out.
"Oh, Eddie," you whimper, tears springing to your eyes at the delicious stretch he's giving you. "Hope the baby has your eyes," you manage to choke out.
It kind of hurts when his skull thumps into yours and he's back to looking in your eyes. "Don't..." he whispers, "I'm trying to hold back." He's concentrating so hard, strangely quiet for him. His normal babble faded into his soft grunts.
"Don't hold back then." He smacks a hand over your mouth and you know you'll regret this in the morning. That was always his tell that he was about to wreck your pussy, (sometimes your ass). In attempt to keep the noise at bay, on the nights where everyone was in the bus as well.
"Shit," he grunts when you tighten around him with anticipation, and then his hips start. The first few thrusts he stutters through but then his hips find their rhythm and your eyes roll. A violent moan rips its way up, only to be muffled by your husband. "No, baby, you gotta look at me. Gotta. Please, fuuuck." His moans are becoming whimpers.
It takes you a few attempts to look at him, especially when he so expertly found your g-spot and was wrecking it. Tears began to spill over your cheeks, smearing on his hand.
"Oh, god, you're gonna look so good. The hottest fucking mom at the fuckin' PTA." You hate when he makes you laugh during sex, especially when it feels so good. Only Eddie seems to be able to make you cry, laugh, and nearly cum all at once. All you can do is tunnel you fingers in his hair and hold on for dear life.
"Fuck, I'm gonna fill you up every chance I get. Get something to hold it in." You let out a muffled wail at that and he groans deeply. "-Just add more cum every time. Will you let me, baby?" His own brown eyes are glassy, desperate. You nod frantically in reply around his frantic thrusts.
Your hair is going to be a wreck.
You're getting close already, he can feel it in the quaking of your cunt. The bed shrieking in protest, the walls are thin. Your certain all of his bandmates are burying their head in their pillows to try to get some shut eye, ignoring the wicked creaking of the plywood bedframe.
He has you pinned to your mattress, and you have nowhere to go. It's overwhelming and suffocating all at once as he drives his hips into yours, nailing the head of his cock against the soft spongy spot within you. You're subjected to the involuntary squeeze of your cunt. There's no way to warn your husband about what's about to happen as he shudders out a groan.
"Stay with me, baby," he coos. "Make me a real daddy, let me breed your pretty fucking pussy."
The straw that breaks the camel's back has you wailing against his hand. He gasps as you soak him and it milks him for all he's worth. It nearly hurts how deep he jams himself, crushing his pelvis into yours and grinding himself inside you as he cums.
Finally, he drops his hand from your face, and you drag in a deep breath before letting out a sob. When his panic hits his face it only lasts a moment before he relaxes, eased by the sight of your giddy grin coated with tears. He drops his forehead against yours as you both pant. He's still plugging you with his twitching cock. You both tremble together in silence for a few minutes. Eddie just sinks against your over time.
"I really thought I was going to have to convince you about the baby thing," he mumbles against your cheek.
"Why?" You hum back, eyes settled closed.
"Cause you never like my sudden whims."
"I love your sudden whims," you argue, a pout forming on your face and a chuckle breezes you with minty breath. "Just not the ones that hurt you. You were very charismatic with your argument."
"Oh, how very bard of me," he murmurs and begins to brush your hair away from your face. "I never believed that I would score an elven princess but, damn, I rolled a nat-twenty." You snort in deblief at how dorky that sounded, warm giggles rising up your belly.
"I love you, you dork."
"Love you, too but what are we going to name it?"
"What do you want to name it? It sounds like you've already thought of a name." Eddie bursts into breathy giggles.
"Maybe a little, yeah." He's giddy glowing at you. Warming you with his smile. He lifts himself up, pawing across you as if he can't stop touching you. "If it's girl," he lifts your hand pressing sloppy kisses to the back and looking up at you through his eyelashes, "Axel."
You try to keep your giggles quiet. "Axel?"
"Or Arwen." You roll your eyes playfully.
"And... if its a boy?"
"If its a boy," he flashes you a grin, "I was thinking, Aragorn or Kas."
"We are not naming our son after your dungeons and dragons' character!"
"Ozzy?" He chirps hopefully.
"If I say 'yes' will you let me go back to sleep?"
"If you say 'yes' I'll marry you," he teases, "you know, like, a second time."
"Eddie," you kiss him, "the baby only grows if I'm sleeping." Your husband gives you a dramatic gasp.
"Then, my fair lady, you must rest."
"Good night, my charming husband."
"Sweet dreams, my darling wife."
#eddie munson#stranger things#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fics#eddie munson x you#eddie munson stranger things#tys kinktober masterlist#kinktober 2022#kinktober
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your ocs are so wonderful omg… if u don’t mind could u tell us more abt kelley? because reverse-werewolf-beast-cursed-to-be-human stuff is so insanely my jam i slather it on toast each morning.
IF YOU DON'T MIND….. you have no idea how much joy this ask brought to my extremely boring day (i have been bouncing around from library to library all day trying to work on my term paper). oh my god. literally you have made my whole day. i think about kelley constantly.
so the thing about him is that like. he adjusted surprisingly well to being a human person, and he already had a little bit of background knowledge (because he was a search and rescue dog before) so it always catches people COMPLETELY off guard that he didn't live his entire life as just some guy. he's like, nebulously early 20s. easily excitable. very affectionate. he's really into watching baseball so sometimes on his time off he'll drive down to one of the civilian towns to go watch the game at whatever bar reliably has mlb. yes there's mlb in the wizard future… it being my sandbox and everything. he's got kind of a fratty dress sense but he never gets to dress like it because of the uniform thing, but in his truest form he would one hundred percent be wearing a backwards hat and socks with sandals.
the other thing about him is that he is like. fundamentally kelley is a radar type without anyone to be radar for because maggie (the team lead) is actually really good at her job, so she doesn't actually need someone to be ready with whatever she wants before she wants it. this is one of the many things that gives kelley Some Kind Of Complex: he wants to be useful so bad and he wants to help people and he gets kind of weird and guilty about not being able to do as much as possible. i think personally he has kind of a thing about the fact that he's a person now. like, he's definitely got some kind of guilt complex about like. why him? what did he do that made him any more or less deserving of being MADE A NEW KIND OF CREATURE? he's also the youngest member of the team. he's been able to be human for more than a few years, so it's not like it's his first day on earth or anything. but also he does sleep with a stuffed animal if he's sleeping alone.
kelley and the harbinger become best friends pretty much immediately. i think they have pretty similar music taste, kind of 90s alt/dad rock type stuff, but they're also gym buddies. the harbinger was a firefighter so they're BUFF AS FUCK and kelley immediately is like. oh my god. teach me your ways. i think he definitely looks up to them a little bit, but he's also the harbinger's closest normal friend (i say normal friend to differentiate their friendship from whatever the fuck is going on with the harbinger and BOWIE). after (plot spoilers) bowie leaves, kelley takes to sleeping on the harbinger's bed sometimes because their nightmares get so bad they really can't sleep alone anymore. he's gay but has absolutely zero game. i do think there's probably a guy he likes in their larger base camp but theres no way he is planning on doing anything about it. he's easily flustered. he DOES call himself a werewolf despite technically being more of a were-dude. he has kind of a surfer boy accent.
#kelley#kelley wizardmash#wizard mash#i have got to come up with a permanent name for this world but that's the placeholder#i was calling it binary stars but its so far from the scifi energy it had when i came up with that title#he's even gay...#i think. as a fun extra fact. he totally resents all the frisbee jokes people probably make#but he does fucking love frisbee
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Artificial Avatar | The More, The
Miserable
Notes - OC oriented, Comedy with a hint of angst, Obey Me AU, the pacing on this one is rancid, Canon divergent, Dialuci
Characters - Feat. Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Diavolo, Barbatos, Grim, Ryo, Candy, Gidorah, Luka, Himiko ( Himiko and Ryo belong to @/absolutepokemontrash )
Summary - Ajay goes to RAD for the first time, finally meeting several new Avatars of sin.
TW - None
Warnings - Not proof read
[ Prolouge ] - [ PT. 1 ] - [ PT. 2 ] - [ PT. 2.5 ] - [ PT. 3 ]
The crunch of the toast and the sweet taste of strawberry, or what Mammon called bloodberry, jam was decidedly Ajays favorite way to start their day. They let out a pleasant little hum as they quietly watched Himiko finish cooking breakfast for Ryo, Grim, and Mammon who got up just slightly later than the messy haired teen.
"It's probably because her spring break just started," Himiko had explained. The hushed clanging of pots and pans had only just started, but Himiko didn't seem as pleased as she did yesterday. "I hope she remembered to set her alarm for RAD today."
"What's a spring break?"
"It's a week where students take off from school for the beginning of spring, at least in the human realm. Since spring doesn't exist in RAD, they don't get that."
"What's a RAD?"
Himiko looked up from the slowly heating pan and turned to the teen who had just settled in a chair. For a moment she thought to question how they hadn't known what RAD was, but then again they also hadn't known what normal food was. So maybe it shouldn't really be a surprise.
The more she learned about the kid the more questions she had.
"RAD, or the Royal Academy or Diavolo, is a school that every demon attends starting from kindergarten to college." She explained as she tossed hashbrowns into the pan. "You will actually be going to RAD with Lucifer and Ryo today, but you'll be staying with Lucifer for the week so remember to bring your bag."
"Okay Lady Himiko."
The kitchen settled into silence after that either only the sound of shadow hog frying on a pan to occupy it.
For a moment Ajay could hear a whisper bloom from the shadows nearby.
"Is Lady Himiko truly anything like what your guardians told you?"
And then another.
"This is temporary. Don't be naive."
Ajays eyes narrowed on their lap. They felt a small ball of something bitter swell and stir, as if something shoved it into their chest and the feeling got comfortable. Their gaze drifted back up to Himiko just as shots of green and black struck through their eye.
"Can I bring Mr. PanPan with me to RAD?" Ajay asked.
The voices retreated and Himiko glanced at Ajay out of the corner of her eye, a raised brow. For a moment she thought to question why the teen had asked that after around twenty minutes of silence, before shrugging and continuing.
"You can't bring stuffed animals into RAD, no." She hummed, setting a third plate next to two other larger ones. "But you can bring him with you to Lucifers."
"I can?"
"I'm sure he won't mind that much. He may be a grouch, but he's a reasonable one."
The sound of half asleep grumbles from the halls put a pause on the conversation as Ryo and Mammon made their way into the room. Grim had decided to ride Ryo like a chariot and sat atop her head, yawning widely before settling down in his own designated seat.
"Good Morning you two." Himiko chuckled.
All she got were affectionate grumbles in response, so she ruffled their bed heads in retaliation as she moved to her own seat.
Ajay took that as their cue to hop off of their seat and start on their way to gather Mr. PanPan to leave in the few minutes they still had at the Nanami-Morningstar household.
"You're not gonna finish your breakfast?" Ryo called through a mouth full of her own food. She gestured towards the still mostly full plate, also decidedly ignoring Himiko's small scolding, and turned to face Ajay.
The half demon only shrugged with a quiet "I'm full." Before they started down the hall.
Grim took his chance and scooped the rest of Ajays food onto his own plate with a wide grin, "more for me!"
The knock on the door came right on time, if not a few seconds early. Himiko was the one to answer, swinging the door open with a small greeting as Ryo nudged Ajay towards the man in the doorway.
Mammon looked over and scanned the fourteen year old a raised brow, mostly noting their lack of luggage aside from the stuffed panda that hung on their hip. His eyes drifted towards Ryo, then the area surrounding them, before pointing to the non existent bag on their shoulder.
"Is that all that you're bringing?" He asked.
The teen titled their head and blinked, "It's all that I have."
"Oh yeah, ya came from the dungeons."
The ravenett in the doorway smirked with a small rumbling chuckle as he turned to the demoness, "Surely you didn't already take them into your makeshift orphanage, Himiko."
Himiko, as eloquent as she was, decided to go for the straight forward response of, "Watch it, Lucy."
Ajay titled their head at the exchange and gave the group a cautious frown, looking between Himiko and Lucifer. Himiko turned to the teen a small smile, mostly in an attempt to counteract Lucifer's neutral glare.
"You already met him at the castle, but this is Lucifer Morningstar the Avatar of Pride." She introduced, vaguely gesturing in the demon direction.
"Or uncle Lucy." Ryo chimed.
Lucifer's expression shifted into a hard frown that he shot towards the half demon, "Do not call me that."
Mammon strode over his big brother with a roll of his eyes. He leaned most of his weight on him and lightly punched him in the shoulder as he dropped his voice to a whisper, "Quit your glowerin' big bro, you're gonna scare the kid..." he tried.
Lucifer glanced towards the teen and Mammon caught sight of the hesitant glances they kept throwing towards the Avatar of Pride.
"Nevermind you already did."
Lucifer simply shrugged in response and turned to Ajay and Ryo, "Anyway, let's go."
Both teens started toward the elevator, one skipping along while the other strode a few steps behind. Ryo had yet to convince them that this behavior in particular was weird, but the kid was a weird one overall.
Lucifer reached out to stop Ajay for a moment, "I'm going to drop you off at RAD and you will get settled into your room and the dorm after school."
The half demon nodded before darting off to stand by Ryos side, leaving the three adults alone in the living room when the elevator doors closed.
...
"You could've at least tried to be friendly." Himiko mumbled.
"I was."
"No you were not?"
The large castle-like structure of RAD slid into view quickly, its warm orange lights and many windows illuminating the inside to give Ajay a slight peek into the schedules of the bustling teachers and staff.
The entrance to RAD wasn't as grand as the castle, but still had a flair to it that matched its environment while still standing out as important. That was specifically noted by the large RAD symbol etched into the stone ground.
Students and staff alike chatted around the entrance, making it clear that school hadn't started yet.
The Avatar of Pride handed Ajay a backpack that the teen wasn't sure they'd seen him have before. It was basic in style but weighty.
"This is the only time we'll be driving to RAD." He explained, waiting for Ajay to adjust the bag before dropping it on their shoulder. "During your stay at the House of Lamination my brothers and I will be walking you to and from school."
"What about Ryo?" Ajay questioned. The princeling didn't look up from her phone.
"She also walks to and from school."
"Isn't that dangerous?"
Lucifer raised a brow at the teen, as if the question itself was ridiculous in thought. "She has a father and several of the strongest demons in hell to protect her. You have neither. Who do you think is in more danger?"
The teen, in response, simply blinked and tilted their head. "...Her?"
"Oh. You're dense." Lucifer spoke bluntly and swore he could feel the tell-tell signs of a migraine already starting up in his skull. Just how much trouble had Diavolo gotten him into this time?
"Anyways, Ryo will walk you to the high-school sector and drop you off at your first class. In your bag you'll find everything you need for your classes today, including a D.D.D to stay in touch with Ryo. Don't cause any trouble for me or king Diavolo. Understood?"
"Yes Lord Lucifer." Ajay nodded. They stood up slightly straighter, like a perfect little soldier if Lucifer had to describe it.
"Loosen up old man, how much trouble can this kid really cause?" Ryo rolled her eyes and grabbed Ajays arm with a light tug. She started for RADs entrance, dragging the teen at her side to keep up with her pace, "Let's go before we're late, not that I care but you probably would."
"Okay."
The doors to RAD swung open easily, mostly with either magic or Ryos strength, Ajay couldn't tell. But the second the two stepped into the school the hallway went completely, and awkwardly, silent.
The teen had only been taught so much about the royals, though most of it was word of mouth from two of their guardians about how horrible they are, one of them had taught them the history of how all nine Avatars came to be. But they mostly understood how well respected and renowned they are.
So when they walked into the halls of RAD, they expected the students to turn their full attention to the princette of the Devildom, maybe bow or at least greet her with praises or something. But instead, a harsh uncomfortable silence settled into the hallway as most of the students stilled, while others almost completely ignored her or ran away.
Ajay thought to question it for a moment, but Ryo didn't seem to be that surprised. If anything, the princette only looked slightly bothered but not annoyed.
"Why is everyone ignoring you?"
"Eh, let's just say I wasn't the best brat in my youthful years." Ryo grumbled, crossing her arms slightly tighter over her chest as her eyes flicked to the side. The few demons her age they landed on stiffened. One glared while the other tugged their friend's hand and scurried off somewhere.
If she didn't look annoyed before, then she did now.
"Aren't you sixteen?" Ajay spoke unfazed, looking from the demons back to Ryo with a neutral stare.
"It was so many moons ago."
"You just got back from whatever school it was two days ago."
"You really don't know how to have fun, do ya?" Ryo shot back. The half-demon didn't look the least bit affected by the sarcasm, instead they just looked more confused before shrugging it off as if suddenly deciding that they didn't care for an answer.
Before the silence around the two could be awkward, or Ryo could pick Ajays brain, the sound of rushing footsteps startled the Avatar of Misfortune to attention. A blast of pink hair blew past her and straight up to Ajay in a blur of gray and other colors.
"New kid, new kid!" The younger demon launched themself at Ajay faster than Ryo could blink. Right before they got slammed to the ground with lighting speed.
Ajay grabbed the demon's wrist with one hand and grabbed the front of their uniform with the other, less human, one. They hoisted the demon into the air with ease and body slammed them to the floor without hesitation.
Ryo laughed out loud, but the shrill ring of the bell rang louder.
"Ah shit- that's the bell for class." The princeling rushed and typed out something quick on her D.D.D. Ajay heard a small ding come from one of the pockets of their backpack before Ryo pocketed her phone.
"I sent you your schedule and the location of your first class, it should be pretty easy to find on your own. Ask the teachers for directions afterwards! See ya Ajay!"
The princeling turned on her heel and rushed down the hall towards where Ajay assumed the older teens attended. She was out of eye sight within a millisecond, leaving Ajay completely on their own.
Reaching into the pocket they assumed their D.D.D was held, they pulled it out with their robotic hand and stared for a moment.
...It was more lo-tech than they were expecting. It didn't look like anything close to the technology they were used to in the lab. They almost debated simply downloading the data into their arm after-school, but decided against it.
They found the map for school easy enough, and found their class surprisingly quicker. Not without bumping into a few students and getting growled at by a few others when their solid metal arm jammed into their backs.
The school day flew by quicker than the half demon expected. But the thing that surprised them the most was the difference in lunch times. They didn't think they were going to sit with Ryo, far from it, but the demon texting them the menu an hour earlier had confused them more than the slang the other teens kept using throughout the day.
Just as Ajay was beginning to get used to the idea of eating lunch alone their attention was caught by speed walking footsteps. As they looked up, their vision was filled with a RAD student skirt, one that was dabbled with bright spray paint spots, a few stitches, and a jacket tied around it. The owner of both simply crossed her arms and let out a giddy hum.
"Sooo, you're new here huh? First day and you're already getting into fights, good job!" The voice said with a small giggle. "Really! I've never seen a move like that! Not even when the princeling went on a rampage a good year back!"
Ajay frowned and turned up to the voice to find a demon with large light purple eyes and pink-orange puffy hair that was pulled up into two buns. She was smiling wide down at them with shark-like teeth and crossed arms.
The girl held out a hand towards Ajay before taking it back when their confused frown only grew worse. She shrugged, unfazed or unbothered, and introduced herself.
"The name is Candy, current record holder for most detentions and the demon you bodyslammed earlier!"
"Oh."
A different voice spoke next, this one slightly deeper than Candys' and with a hint of an accent. "Which isn't something to be proud of, but she doesn't have much."
"That ugly rat is Luka." Candy huffed, pointing somewhere over her shoulder and right towards the demon with blue eyes, black side parted short hair, and a small playful smile. He stood slightly further back and gave Ajay a nod of acknowledgement before quickly looking away.
"Guys, don't scare the new kid." A third voice chuckled. This one was softer than Candys' and higher pitched than Lukas'.
Candy rolled her eyes and plopped herself next to Ajay. She nudged their arm and gestured over to the green eyed, black and green haired, golden freckled girl standing slightly closer to the two.
"That mom friend who needs therapy over there is Gidorah." Candy explained.
"Why are you sitting here?"
"Because we wanted to sit with you. New kid and all y'know."
"I do not know."
"Okay then! Anyway, what's your favorite color?"
"King Diavolo, I don't believe it's a good idea to let Ajax-"
"Ajay."
"Ajay join gym class, at least not without power inhibitors or something. Or maybe seeing a doctor because what they did in the first place wasn't normal, your highness."
Now, in Ajays defense, they didn't exactly mean to cause one of the gym walls to collapse or to cause a chunk of the concrete to crack. They were told to not hold back against the other team in dodgeball, even though they didn't know what the phrase "hold back" meant.
So here they stood in the student council room before several new, colorful haired, Avatars of sin that they only knew by name alone.
"I see..." The demon king let out a loud sigh and cast his hazel eyes over the teen, who looked nothing less than confused. "Yes, that is going to be a problem. We can't have the gym getting destroyed every other day."
"They collapsed an entire wall." The orange haired demon whispered, staring at Ajay with wide disbelieving eyes.
The pink-ish haired demon next to his side glanced at his brother with his head in his palm. "Why do you sound so surprised, you do that when someone eats your custard, Beel."
"But they're scrawny..."
"If the peanut gallery wouldn't mind keeping it down." Lucifer, who currently looked half ready to smack someone upside the head, interrupted.
The green eyed demon flicked through a few papers, which Ajay still found strange, before he looked up to address the room with a hand on his chin. "The damage the gym sustained will require a healthy chunk of this month's budget to go towards fixing it. We'd have to cut-"
Diavolo cut off the Avatar with a shake of his head. "No, that won't be required. I'll pay for the damages myself. After all this was my mistake." He hummed. The room went silent, but Diavolo simply turned to the gym teacher with an embarrassed smile, "I meant to give them inhibitors before they went to gym, but I got so caught up in work that I forgot."
"More like his date with Lucifer..." The purple haired demon mumbled with a small giggle. This earned him a glare from Lucifer, a few chuckles from the other demons at the table, and a tired strained smile from the teal haired demon who had barely spoken since the meeting started.
"Well then, I will have preparations for the repair of the gym begin tomorrow morning, my lord."
"Well that was resolved quickly. What about them?" The gym teacher jolted a thumb in the half demon's direction, finally catching their attention.
Diavolo narrowed his eyes on the teen for a moment, watching them stand as still as a statue. "They will be let off with a warning," he decided, "a formal apology letter to your teacher will be written by tomorrow. Understood Ajay?"
The teen turned their attention to the king with a small nod, "Yes your highness."
"Aww, they’re so polite!" The pink haired demon cooed.
"Do we all agree that this is a fair consequence?"
"Yes."
"Sure."
"I don't see why not."
"Mhm."
The gym teacher stared down the half demon for a moment before nodding with a shrug. As long as it wasn't coming out of his paycheck or the gym budget, he didn't care that much anyway.
The blue-ish haired demon looked less than pleased, even sinking back into his chair. "I can't believe I got called out of class for this. It's the only easy one that gives me time to catch on the earliest updates of my favorite webcomics."
Lucifer slowly turned to look past Mammon's seat and glared down at the purple haired demon with daggers in his eyes. The energy in the room shifted, and Ajay could've sworn that Lucifer was the Avatar of wrath himself.
"Are you complaining about attending your student council responsibilities? And what are you doing on your phone when you're supposed to be focused on class?"
"Oh no..."
"And with that, this student council meeting can end here." Diavolo rushed.
The gym teacher turned and stared at Ajay for a moment, a question at the edge of his lips. What he saw that child do was unlike anything he had seen before in all of his years alive. But before suspicions could settle in, a stern smile from Diavolo shot it down. The demon sighed and left the student council room with a sharp turn.
The Avatar of pride tore his attention away from the purple haired demon to give the teen a barely softer glare. "Remember when I told you this morning not to cause trouble for me or king Diavolo?" He asked. His voice dropping into a tone that Ajay couldn't exactly place.
They knew they were in trouble, but not the kind of trouble their guardians normally threatened, clearly.
"Yes?"
"And yet only one day here and you're already causing property damage to the school."
The purple and white haired demon lifted his head up for the first time in a while and glanced down at the teen with an amused hum, "Satan's record was actually a few hours short of yours."
"You guys keep a record?" The blonde demon questioned.
"We will discuss this further at the House of Lamination since it is the end of the day, grab your things and meet up at the entrance Ajay."
"Okay."
That bit of the conversation caught the attention of the several other demons around the room, all with a range of looks of shock to completely unbothered.
"Wait, hold up, hold up." Belphegor shot up and whipped his head around to face Lucifer, "They're coming to live with us?! Since when, and why weren't we told about this?!"
"You didn't tell your brothers?"
"I did. I texted them each individually. He has me blocked."
The walk to the House of Lamination felt like an eternity plus some to Ajay. Mostly because several of the brothers, Asmodeus, Satan, and Belphegor, wouldn't stop peppering them with a number of questions. A few of which they physically couldn't answer even if they wanted to.
More surprisingly was when every one of them walked into the house with Lucifer instead of eventually leaving to go off to their own homes like Ajay assumed.
That was, until the realization struck the half demon like lightning.
Ajays eyes widened ever so slightly, barely showing the actual shock behind them.
"All of you live together?"
Lucifer turned to them with a frown, yet again looking at them as if they just asked one of the stupider questions he's heard. "Yes. Me and my brothers, except for Mammon, live in this house."
The teen raised a robotic finger and counted, horror and disbelief slowly growing up until the number hit six. Six people in one house, counting themself made seven.
"...All of you? In one house?"
"Yes, child." Lucifer narrowed his eyes on the half-demon, waving away the giggles that poured from his brothers. If it weren't for the forewarning that Ajay was generally quiet, they would've been cackling. That he was sure of.
This was it, Ajay was sure that if their guardians didn't find and kill them, or they didn't die fighting the Avatars whenever that was supposed to happen, then this was it.
Living in a loud, chaotic house with six other people would do them in.
( Ryo-yo )
[ Ryo: lol goodluck kid! ] Read: 4:09
Taglist: @absolutepokemontrash
AN - Ajay suffers their worst fate ever. Being put through normal teenage things, accidentally breaking down walls, and living with more than three people who want to interact with them.
#obey me shall we date#obey me au#obey me oc#omswd oc#omswd#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me fic#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#[ 🥀 ] oc : ajay#[ 🐉 ] oc : gidorah#[ ⚖️ ] oc : luka#[ 🍨 ] oc : candy#obey me fanfic#obey me fanfiction
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Hello… could I request an Eddie Munson x fem witchy reader fic? this is horribly self indulgent but it would hit such a niche audience in which me and a friend are apart of😭
is short but cute
“Okay, so what’s this one?” Eddie asks you earnestly as he holds up a record from your shelf.
Its not like its normal for you to invite a boy you literally just met at the record shop into your home, but there was just something about the way he asked you about what you were looking for, and the way that he was also the only other person that dresses remotely like you. Turns out Indiana isn’t the most counterculture state in the union.
Eddie said sure, and you found yourself actually waiting around until the end of his shift for him to follow you in his van back to your house, which, he was almost relieved looking to see it was in the trailer park.
“Looks like were neighbors!” he called cheerfully as he climbed out of his van.
It felt normal to lead him into your trailer, where your bass guitar, your record collection, and your vis collection were waiting for you. It didn’t take him long to be on his knees digging through your collections.
“That ones Goblin,” you supply.
“Goblin… Why do I know that?”
“Maybe because they did the soundtracks to Suspiria, Dawn of the Dead, and Tenebrae. If you like giallo and zombies.”
Eddie smiles widely.
“Yeah, thats it.”
You pull your velvet shawl over your shoulders a little tighter, and join him on the floor as well, folding your legs in front of you while you make a grabby handed motion at him to hand you a stack.
“I’m going to lend you this one,” you say, holding up the record at the top of the little stack on your lap.
“Whats that, Coven?”
“yeah, you ever take a listen?”
He shakes his head no, and takes the record from you to put on the end table for later, nudging your dark green crystal ash tray out of the way.
“They’re like, the love child of both of us,” you start, and then grimace at yourself at how that sounds, and even his eyebrows raise.
“What I mean… is that its occult rock, and very groovy, but they’ve got like metal in them, yeah? Like they’re the band that invented,” you hold up the devil horns with your free hand, “so its my whole jam, and your whole jam rolled into one. Now, I want you to take notes on this album, okay?”
He nods eagerly.
“Got it, I’ll have pages for us to discuss,” he jokes, but you kind of hope he actually does. Even though you’ve just met you can already tell you’d love to hear him talk your ear off about just about anything.
“We can come back here and have some pizza and wine, make it really nice,” you offer, hoping you aren’t overstepping.
The way he smiles at you is like a flickering candle, wavering as if hes having a hard time processing how he feels, but warm and bright all the same.
“Oh, witchy woman,” you can feel yourself heating up at the nickname, being called that so many times before but this being the first time it was said so affectionately, “if I like this album, I’m going to take you to the fanciest restaurant in all of Indiana to discuss it. I swear, I’ll use my entire paycheck to wine and dine you if this shit rocks my world.”
“How could I turn that down?” you joke, and both of you laugh as if you’re in on some kind of unspoken joke.
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for the ship ask game if u still wanna do it for cjizzy, 11, 15, 22, and 34?
I'm always up to do any of the ask games I've reblogged! (Ship Ask Game)
11. How do they feel about nicknames/pet names? If they like them, what pet names do they use? If they hate them, why do they feel that way?
I of course love the fanon that Jack calls Izzy all kind of pet names, chiefly among them "babygirl" and "sugartits," which Izzy alternates between finding annoying, amusing, and endearing. Izzy's go-to is "you twat," which he usually means mostly affectionately, and Jack loves it (because he loves any attention from Izzy).
15. What songs remind you of their relationship?
Ohohoho you have no idea what you've opened up by asking me this one. I'll stick to six so this doesn't get too long:
Animals by Nickelback - I know Nickelback is a joke but I'm nostalgic about them and this song slaps. Also it's about road head and that's very them to me.
Snug Slacks by John Grant - A weird, horny song about awkward flirting and having sex in the back of a truck. I can easily see Izzy trying to pick up Jack like this and it somehow working.
Blush by Orville Peck - It's a country-adjacent song about reminiscing over an old lover, with sailing metaphors to boot. It makes me think of Jack, wishing he could see Izzy again.
Lightning Bolt by Pearl Jam - This one's mostly just about the vibes, but there's something there about Jack coming into Izzy's life like a lightning bolt like the woman in the song.
Jolene by Dolly Parton - I don't need to explain this one; Jack is Dolly, Ed is Jolene, Izzy is the unnamed man.
Thoroughfare by Ethel Cain - I may be biased because I'm obsessed with this song but just go look at the lyrics. Jack takes Izzy on a road trip out west and falls in love with him.
There definitely should be a Johnny Cash song in here too but I couldn't pick one.
22. Are they comfortable joking around with each other and being silly/playful?
Jack is always playful around Izzy, making dumb jokes and just generally fucking around. In public, Izzy does not react at all and stays completely stone-faced, but when they're alone he'll smile and maybe even laugh a little. Izzy isn't really one for being silly but it's not because he's uncomfortable around Jack; it just isn't his thing.
34. Do they have any inside jokes?
Jack never lets Izzy forget the time he got caught in the rigging and Jack had to get him out. If he's subtle enough about it that other people don't notice Izzy might not even yell at him about it. They've also basically developed an entire language for making fun of Stede (and Ed when he's around Stede).
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Ray of Sunshine-Dwayne Hoover-Chapter 2
Summary: Seventeen-year-olds Dwayne Hoover and Tyler Walker (or Ty as she’s affectionately known in the Hoover house) have been best friends since they were born. His mom and her mom are best friends too, so they had every chance to be together. They only have each other and are madly in love. However, the other person doesn’t know about their friend’s feelings. Will a chaos filled trip to California for his little sister’s beauty pageant allow these feelings to surface and let the childhood friends become more or will the the inseparable duo keep them bottled inside, not wanting to risk that cherished friendship that’s always been a little more?
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Language, Talk of Underage Sex, Mentions of Attempted Suicide - not by Dwayne or OC, Fat Shaming of a Seven Year Old, Absent Parent, Death of Character - Not Dwayne or OC, ALL Warnings for the movie apply to this series!
Words: 3,877
Tag List: Reblogging
A/N: I already posted this once but it wasn’t showing up in the search so I’m redoing it. Sorry if you’ve already seen it! I hope you’re enjoying though! Please comment, letting us know what you think of the series!
To Be tagged: Comment, Message Me, Submit an Ask, or Tag Yourself In My Bio!
Third Person POV
Ty stops paying attention to Richard when Dwayne walks back in with a large brown bag and the bucket of chicken. She moves the edge of the bag to look inside when her best friend smacks her hand. She gasps softly and looks at him. He smirks and reaches in, pulling out a styrofoam cup and a container of corn on the cob.
He pulls out a few more items before grabbing the bag to throw it away. She sits down in her normal seat while he walks into the kitchen. He opens up a drawer and picks up some silverware. The clanking is slightly loud, causing Richard to tap his step-son. Dwayne raises an eyebrow as his step-father puts his finger to his mouth, whispering ‘Shhh’.
Tyler looks over her shoulder at the noise to catch her best friend opening a cabinet to grab the paper plates but he slams the door. She bites her lip to stop her laughter when Richard turns around back toward the kitchen. Dwayne gives her a small grin before walking back toward her. He hands her the plates before putting out the silverware.
She stands up and begins putting them around the table as Sheryl walks in. She’s already changed out of her work uniform into something more comfortable.
“So what happened with Stan Grossman?” She asks, grabbing the salad mix.
“He’s in Scottsdale.” Richard answers.
“So why didn’t he call?” She glances at him as she puts the veggie into a large wooden bowl.
“Will you let me worry about this, please?!” He sighs slightly causing her to roll her eyes.
She walks into the dining room again, not wanting to deal with him today.
“Dwayne, can you check on Frank? Tell him it’s dinner time.” She pats his shoulder before walking to the basement door.
He playfully pushes past Tyler who bumps him with her hip before she sits back down in her chair. He walks to his bedroom door and knocks on the door jam. Frank looks up from his cot as the teenager mimics eating.
“What? Dinner?” He asks, causing Dwayne to nod. “What? You don’t talk anymore?”
Dwayne blinks and shakes his head, noticing that no one ever told him what was going on.
“Why not?” Frank asks, watching him.
Dwayne rolls his eyes slightly as he half-shrugs.
“You can talk. You just choose not to?”
He nods at his uncle and licks his lip before gesturing to the large bed-sheet hanging on the wall.
“Is that Nietzsche?” His uncle asks before looking at him again. “You don’t speak because of Friedrich Nietzsche?”
The teen doesn’t answer. He just turns and walks back to the table. He sits beside Tyler who is reading her book. He shakes his head slightly and gently takes it from her hands. She turns to glare at him but he just closes it and puts it back on the shelf behind them. She crosses her arms in a pout as Sheryl walks in with the wooden bowl.
“Frank, you can sit here next to Dwayne. Here’s the salad.” She looks down at the two teens and pauses in her footsteps. “Ty, did Dwayne steal your book?”
“Yep.”
“Gatsby?”
“Yep.”
“Dwayne, give it back. You’re lucky this time. Last time you took it, she pushed you out of your chair. I’m gonna run and get Sprite for everyone.”
She walks toward the basement door again as Dwayne looks at his best friend before shaking his head. Tyler playfully glares at him, causing him to shrug with a small smirk. Frank walks over slowly, still getting used to being in the house full of people. He sits down beside his nephew as he hears his sister yelling for her daughter to come join them for dinner.
They’re quiet for a moment, waiting for the rest of the family. Wanting to know more about what has happened since he’s been gone, Frank speaks up.
“So, are you guys together?”
Dwayne glances at him, and licks his lip, shaking his head no slightly as butterflies fill his stomach. Tyler bites her lip and peeks at her best friend. It’s not the first time they’ve been asked that particular question, but it still makes them both anxious at the thought of their crush becoming something more than that, and possibly risking their friendship, even though it wouldn’t.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” He continues with his interrogation.
Dwayne shakes his head again, wanting nothing more than the girl beside him to turn into his girlfriend. He thinks about it all the time, even sometimes when everyone thinks he’s reading. His eyes may be glued to the page he’s on during that time, but his mind isn’t processing any of the words in front of him, but rather it’s a few feet away, stuck on the girl that’s always by his side.
“Boyfriend?” Frank raises an eyebrow.
Dwayne’s head snaps toward him, giving him a look.
“Kidding. Kidding. I know…So, who do you hang out with?” He asks, looking at him again.
He turns toward his head with an emotionless expression and gestures to his left where Tyler is sitting. The young girl uncrosses her arms and sits forward, waving slightly at the man.
“Just her? You guys don’t hang out with anyone else?”
“Nope. We’re lame.” She says, shrugging slightly as she smirks at her best friend.
Dwayne rolls his eyes and leans toward her slightly to pull out his notepad from his back pocket. She watches as he scribbles down a few words. She laughs slightly as she reads it before he shows it to his uncle.
‘I Hate Everyone’
“What about your family?” Frank asks, looking at him.
The teen picks up his pen and underlines the last word, emphasizing the word ‘Everyone.’
“Even Tyler?” He asks, gesturing to the female.
He brings his hand up, shaking it slightly in a so-so gesture. She gasps and elbows him, causing Dwayne to tilt his head down, smiling. Frank shakes his head at them before asking another question.
“You hate me?”
He looks at him for a moment before flipping the notepad around to the back of the page he wrote on before. He scribbles something down, glancing at his uncle every so often. He turns it around, watching him as he reads it.
‘Not yet’
“Fair enough.” Frank nods, but looks up when Richard walks in.
“Frank. Hey.” He says, moving his chair back.
“Richard.” He says, the tone of his voice void of any and all emotions, just like his personality.
“Good to…” He puts his hand out toward his brother-in-law who shakes it. “See you.”
He sits down in his chair before noticing the awkward tension in the room. He messes with his silverware before standing up again.
“Let me get Olive…”
As he leaves, calling for his father and daughter, Sheryl walks into the room with a large bottle of diet Sprite and enough mix-matched cups for everyone.
“You guys, go on and start.” She says, putting the drink down. “Frank, some Sprite?”
“Yes, please.” He says softly as she puts down a cup.
“And I want everyone to have at least a little salad.” She says, putting down cups in front of each spot. “Yes, Ty, even you.”
The younger female playfully whines and nods as she picks up the salad utensils. Sheryl smiles as she picks up the soda to open it. She fills Tyler’s cup first before walking around Dwayne to her brother to fill up his cup, always filling the guest’s glasses first. Richard walks back in and sits down, making sure his tie doesn’t hit the table.
Tyler opens the bucket of chicken, putting the paper lid under the container. She picks up a chicken leg before passing the cardboard bucket to her best friend.
“So, Sheryl…I couldn’t help but notice Dwayne has stopped speaking.” Frank speaks up, glancing at his sister.
“I took his voice box out.” Tyler speaks up, opening another container as Richard rolls his eyes at her playful words. “He was getting too annoying even for me.”
“Ty!” Sheryl giggles softly as she gently smacks the young girl’s shoulder as she walks around.
Dwayne shakes his head slightly and grabs a cherry tomato off her plate. He tosses it at her face causing her to gasp and try to catch it before it hits the floor. She succeeds and tosses it right back at him, hitting him in the nose and watches it bounce onto his plate.
“Don’t listen to her. He’s taken a vow of silence.” The female Hoover says, a smile never leaving her face at the teens’ antics.
“You’ve taken a vow of silence?” He says, looking at his nephew.
He looks up at him and nods slightly as he gets comfortable in his seat.
“He’s gonna join the Air Force Academy and become a Test Pilot for fighter jets. He’s taken a vow of silence until he reaches that goal.”
“You’re kidding.” Frank says, slightly shocked.
Sheryl smiles at him, proud of her son’s ambitions. Ty shoots Dwayne a quick smile, showing him that she’s just as proud of him, if not more than, as Sheryl is. Before anyone can say anything else, Olive runs into the room.
“Hi, Uncle Frank!” She wraps an arm around his shoulder and kisses his cheek.
“Oh, hey, Olive. Wow, you’re getting big.” Frank’s eyes widen at the seven-year-old. “Almost like a real person.”
She grins before walking around the table. Sheryl begins to hand out random containers so everyone can have sides to go along with their chicken. When Olive reaches her chair, she gasps loudly causing Tyler to look up at her.
“What happened to your arms?” She asks, noticing the bandages on her uncle.
“Olive…” Her mother says, putting some salad on her plate.
“No, it’s okay.” Frank shakes his head. “I had a little accident. I’m okay now.”
Not wanting to get into the conversation, Richard looks at his daughter.
“How’s the routine coming, honey?”
“It’s good.” She answers, looking at her plate.
“When’re you gonna let us see it?” He asks, eating a piece of a roll.
“I don’t know. It’s up to Grandpa.” She says as the man walks into the room.
“A couple of days. It still needs work.” He answers, walking around the table.
“Frank, can you hand…” Tyler’s cut off by Grandpa realizing what’s for dinner.
“What’s that?! Chicken?! Every night it’s the fucking chicken!” He raises his voice, not allowing his son to cut him off with protests of ‘dad.’ “Holy God Almighty! Is it possible, just once, we could get something to eat around here that’s not the goddamn fucking chicken?!”
Tyler bites her lip to stop the laughter from exiting as Dwayne bumps his knee with hers. She said earlier in the day that Sheryl was going to bring home chicken and Edwin was not going to be happy about it. Just like the day before…and the day before that.
“Hey Dad!” Richard raises his voice slightly.
“I’m just saying…” Grandpa tries to say, but his son continues.
“Dad!”
Edwin shakes his head and sits down in his seat, mumbling to himself. Sheryl smiles softly and glances at Tyler who is still biting her lip.
“Whenever you want to start cooking your own food, you’re more than welcome.”
“Y’know, at Sunset Manor…” He starts, but Richard cuts him off.
“If you liked Sunset Manor so much maybe you shouldn’t have gotten yourself kicked out of there.”
He glances at his brother-in-law as if he was going to agree with him but Frank just grabs a container. The room is filled with another tense silence as food is passed around and he can’t handle the awkwardness.
“So, when did you start with the vow?” He glances at his nephew.
Dwayne shrugs and glances at Tyler, wanting her to answer his uncle, but Richard speaks up as he chews on his piece of chicken.
“It’s been nine months, Frank. He hasn’t said a word. Not one.” He wipes his lip, a condescending tone to his voice. “I think it shows tremendous discipline.”
Tyler looks toward her best friend, both sharing a look. They know what his step-father is going to get into and they both just want to go back to his room. Dwayne wasn’t kidding when he said he hated everyone. His step-father being at the top of that list, and Tyler’s nowhere near it. She’s the one person he could never hate, besides his little sister.
“Richard…” Sheryl speaks up, noticing the teens’ shared expressions.
“I really do. I think we could learn something from Dwayne. Dwayne has a goal. He has a dream.” He continues, almost tauntingly, as he gestures with his overly greasy, over cooked chicken leg. “It may not be my dream, may not be yours, but he’s pursuing it with great conviction and focus. In fact, I was thinking about the Nine Steps…”
“Oh, for crying out loud!” Grandpa speaks up in irritation.
“Here we go…” Tyler mumbles, causing Dwayne to put his hand on her thigh to calm her down as he looks at Richard.
He’s just as tired as she is at hearing his step-dad’s preachy rants about his so-called ‘motivational-speaking’, ‘life coaching’ spiels. His step-dad thinks that they’re these awe-inspiring ‘how-to hacks’ to life, but really they’re just judgmental sayings that have turned him into someone neither of them want to hang around.
Hence why they spend most of their time either in Dwayne’s room, together, or with Olive or Sheryl. Frank glances around the table, noticing everyone is annoyed at his speech besides Olive.
“The Nine Steps and how Dwayne’s utilizing at least seven of them in his personal quest to self-fulfillment.” Richard continues, looking at his father.
“Richard, please.” Sheryl speaks up again, wanting at least one dinner without the steps being brought into them.
“Well, I’m just saying I’ve come around. I think he could use our support.” He finishes with a shrug.
Tyler rolls her eyes and takes a bite from her corn on the cob, resting her arms on the table as she chews. She’s been supporting him since day one and this jerk is acting like she has been sitting on her ass, criticizing him. Sheryl reaches over and rubs her forearm as Dwayne squeezes her thigh. They both know what she’s thinking.
Hell, she was the one that researched every single detail for days on how to get into the Air Force academy for him. Besides needing parental consent, the only reason Dwayne has to wait is because of certain academic requirements he needs to meet. Besides needing to take the SAT’s, the Air Force is the reason they’re both taking German.
They also want to be able to bad mouth people in another language. When Dwayne fulfills his vow, that is. Even though he is the one that’s getting into the Air Force, Tyler doesn’t want him to go through this alone. She doesn’t have any idea of what she wants to do after school. So instead of wasting her time, she’d rather help her best friend get into his dream academy.
She didn’t go as far as taking a vow of silence, of course, but she’s going through it with him in other ways. The tension is thick again as everyone eats, but Olive looks over at her uncle, wanting to know the full story on his bandages.
“How did it happen?”
Slightly confused, Frank leans forward in his chair.
“How did what happen?” He asks in a soft voice.
“Your accident?”
“Honey, here.” Sheryl says, messing with the food on her daughter’s plate, not wanting her brother to be uncomfortable.
“No, it’s okay.” He shakes his head before looking at his sister. “Unless you object…”
“No, I’m pro-honesty here. I just think, you know…it’s up to you.” She answers, gesturing to him.
“Be my guest.”
“Olive…” Sheryl clears her throat with a small cough. “Uncle Frank didn’t really have an accident. What happened was…he…tried to kill himself.”
“You did?” The young girl asks, shocked. “Why?”
Richard starts stuttering at the dark turn of the conversation before speaking clearly.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think this is an appropriate conversation.” He puts his hands on his forehead for a moment. “Honey, Let’s let uncle Frank finish his dinner, okay?”
Not knowing how to drop conversations, Olive speaks up again.
“Why did you want to kill yourself?”
“Frank, don’t answer the question.” Richard says, before looking at Olive. “He’s not gonna answer the question.”
“Richard…” Sheryl addresses him again.
Knowing his sister is okay with it, Frank doesn’t listen to his brother in law.
“I tried to kill myself because I was very unhappy.”
Richard speaks over the ending of his sentence.
“Don’t listen, honey, he’s a sick man. He’s sick in his head.”
“Richard!” Tyler speaks up, scrunching her eyebrows.
“Be quiet, Ty. The adults are talking.” He glances at her before looking toward his daughter again.
“Richard!” Sheryl snaps slightly, not liking how her husband is speaking to her son’s best friend.
Dwayne drops his chicken onto his plate and looks at his step-father, anger in his eyes. This is one of the moments he wishes he could talk, but Tyler puts her hand on his leg, much like he did to her earlier; knowing he’s come this far, he better not break the vow yet.
“What?! I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s an appropriate conversation for a seven-year-old.” He glances between Dwayne, Tyler, and his wife.
The two teens shake their heads at his words before going back to their dinner. If Olive wants to know, she should know the truth, but they know they can’t stop the man.
“She’s gonna find out anyway!” Sheryl shakes her head and gestures to her brother. “Go on, Frank.”
She reaches over and gently pats Tyler’s arm again as Frank looks at his brother-in-law, dead-pan victorious.
“Why were you unhappy?” Olive asks, hearing his earlier statement.
“Well, uh, there were a lot of reasons.” He says, honestly. “Mainly, though, I fell in love with someone who didn’t love me back.”
“Who?” She asks, biting into her corn on the cob.
“One of my grad students. I was very much in love with him.”
“Him?” Her eyes widen. “It was a boy? You fell in love with a boy?”
“Yes. I did.” He nods. “Very much so.”
Olive has never heard of homosexuality so it’s a shock for her as well as a few more people at the table. Tyler glances at Dwayne who raises an eyebrow at her, not knowing his uncle was gay. They have no problem with his sexuality. Love is love to them. It doesn’t change how they look at him, but it’s still shocking to find out this way.
“That’s silly.” Olive smiles at him, playful childhood innocence lacing her voice.
“You’re right.” Frank looks at his plate. “It was very, very silly.”
“There’s another word for it…” Grandpa mumbles into his corn causing Sheryl’s brother to nod, knowing what he means.
“Dad.” Richard shakes his head, not wanting his daughter to hear.
“So…That’s when you tried to kill yourself?” Olive asks, picking up her chicken.
“Well, no. What happened was the boy I was in love with fell in love with another man, Larry Sugarman.”
“Who’s Larry Sugarman?” Sheryl asks, closing the Sprite bottle.
“Larry Sugarman is perhaps the second most highly regarded Proust Scholar in the U.S.” He answers, glancing at her.
“Who’s number one?” Richard asks, looking at him.
“That would be me, Rich.” Frank says, slowing his words down slightly.
“Really?” He asks, not realizing.
“Mhmm.” He nods and looks away from him.
“So that’s when you tried?” Olive asks, bringing up the meaning of the conversation.
“Well, no. What happened was I was a bit upset. I said some things I shouldn’t have said and I did some things I shouldn’t have done. Subsequently, I was fired from my job, forced to move out of my apartment and move into a motel.” He says, sadness lacing his voice.
Tyler bites her lip and pokes at her salad with her fork, feeling bad for her best friend’s uncle. She knows what it’s like to love someone and them not love you back. Or at least, she thinks she does, but he lost everything due to it. Grandpa takes his moment to blow his nose, loudly, interrupting the conversation for a moment.
“Oh…So that’s when?” Olive asks again.
“Well, no.” He repeats, hesitantly. “Actually, all that was okay. What happened was two days ago, the MacArthur Foundation, in its infinite wisdom, decided to award a ‘genius’ grant to Larry Sugarman. And that’s when…”
“Decided to check out early.” Grandpa says, biting his corn again.
“Yes.” He nods. “And I failed at that as well.”
Tyler glances at Sheryl before speaking up, not knowing if it was a good time to try and ease the tension.
“Do you want me to try and take out his voice box?” She holds up her fork as her best friend looks at his uncle, knowing what she’s doing. “Dwayne seems fine without it and there won’t be any evidence.”
Frank smiles very slightly, appreciative of the teenager’s suggestion. “Thank you, Tyler, but I don’t want you to get into any trouble.”
“For you, it would be worth it.” She smiles at him as Dwayne bumps her with his knee, silently thanking her.
He smiles a little wider before looking at Olive who now understands…kinda. Sheryl smiles at her best friend’s daughter, happy that she was able to make her depressed brother smile, even if it was barely there. She decides to pick up the girl’s plate, confusing Tyler since she’s not done eating. She watches as the older woman scraps the girl’s uneaten salad onto her own paper plate.
She smiles as Sheryl puts the plate back in front of her, salad-less. She then places her corn on the teenager’s plate, knowing that’s her favorite part of dinner. It’s a small, sweet gesture of thanks, a trade of kindness: salad for corn. Tyler grins at her before picking up the veggie. Richard laces his fingers on the table, bringing back the tension.
“Olive, what’s important to understand is that Uncle Frank gave up on himself.” He says, causing everyone to look at him. “He had a series of foolish choices and then he gave up on himself, which is something that winners never do.”
Frank stares at him with hatred, looking like he could leap across the table and strangle him at any moment.
“So, that’s the story, okay?” Sheryl says, standing up to mess with the bowl of salad, putting some on her daughter’s plate. “Let’s move on…”
Her brother looks at his nephew and Tyler who are both visibly irritated.
“Is he always like this?” He whispers to them causing them to nod. “How can you stand it?”
Dwayne pulls out his notepad and clicks his pen against the table. He quickly writes a few words on a new piece of paper before sliding it toward his uncle.
‘We can’t.’
Frank nods slightly, now fully understanding.
#dwayne hoover#dwayne hoover little miss sunshine#dwayne hoover fanfiction#dwayne hoover imagine#dwayne hoover x reader#dwayne hoover x you#dwayne hoover x original female character#dwayne hoover x original character#dwayne hoover imagines#dwayne hoover love story#little miss sunshine#little miss sunshine dwayne
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Ficlet Week Challenge (schedule here)
Day 4: Unlikely Allies - examine a connection between two characters who are (at least typically) opposed in some way
Asriel & Edward - His Dark Materials
“I was studying here so often, I think there’s a print of my backside on the seat,” Edward Coulter patted the arm rest of the leather chair nostalgically, affectionately.
The fire crackled in front of two alumni of Jordan College. It was more smoke than flame, but the peat moss gave it a pleasant aroma. Stelmaria rested her chin on the toe of Asriel’s shining dress shoe. The council meeting suffered a last minute change of location to the college library, rather than the prestigious office of the king’s advisor, a place which Edward was very proud to call his own. There was still half a bottle of tokay left and Asriel was determined to savor it even if the politician would be lingering.
Edward pointed a finger, “I think I saw you back then. I’m sure.”
“I don’t think so,” Asriel said bluntly.
“Yes, I did. You were in your last year while I was in my first.”
Asriel often forgot how young he was. His colleagues in age seemed so hazy eyed because the world hadn’t gotten to them yet. Asriel didn’t have the luxury of protection, he saw the real face of life early on and he wasn’t so cowardly that he would look away. But Edward must know something to get to the position he did, even if he could slouch his way up the ladder like the rest of his kind.
“It shocks me,” Asriel bounced Stelmaria’s head with his foot, “that you decided to marry when you have plenty of bachelor years left in you.”
Edward rubbed his wedding band and smiled, “When you meet a woman like Marisa you can’t afford to wait. Besides, it doesn’t appeal to me. Not that I look down on those who prefer it.” He added the last part rather quickly. In his line of work, he didn’t think he could afford to antagonize anyway.
The scent of the tokay kept Asriel focused enough to say anything too risqué. Marisa used that word when lecturing him the last time they met. She had been less amused by his hidden jams of late. In fact, her patience had run thin in most categories.
Edward leaned forward, “As much as I like talking about my wife, I won’t let you change the subject. I was in that lecture hall when you ripped that professor in two. It was spectacular.”
Of course Edward would see that scene as a spectacle, because what was it there for but to amuse him. Asriel remembered the moment he referred to in its truth: a lint-ball of a man was not too pleased as Asriel’s two minute tardiness and had some choice words. What was it he said again? Ah, sand-
“But I suppose that’s a usual day for you, right Asriel?”
Asriel said, “Yes, it wasn’t unusual.”
Not another word passed through Asriel’s lips before Edward began gesticulating more emphatically. “God, I wish I could do that in my office. But there are expectations, with the position, you know. And Marisa... well, she doesn’t appreciate my moods. There I go on about her again.”
“What would you fight for, Eddie?” he couldn’t hide the incredulity in his tone and from Edward’s expression, it did not go unnoticed.
“Greatness,” Edward scrunched his eyebrows together, “A world where every man has the tools to gain and protect the things he wants. His family.”
Asriel might have asked what exactly Edward meant by that, but he was already bored. To his ears, it sounded very much like the world they were already living in. This man had a fetish for the family structure. It was a wonder why he enjoyed Asriel’s company at all, but people do like to visit zoos after all.
Instead, Asriel simply asked, “What was your area of focus when you were a student here?”
“Economics. If you understand the flow of capital you understand the world right?”
“I can’t disagree with you there.”
There was that great Belacqua fortune that afforded Asriel a life with a view from above. His graduation was really a favor from overly sympathetic Master to Asriel’s parents as he barely attended enough of his course to truly qualify for the degree. This money sent him on adventures since he was a teenager with his reluctant manservant following behind to make sure he didn’t get himself killed. However, stating the value of money was redundant, and Asriel didn’t consider it a worthwhile focus.
Smoke drifted into the room and the men were forced to wave the air in front of their faces clear. A student scurried up and refilled Edward’s glass all the way to the brim, eager aspiring politician. Edward nodded at the student as if this wasn’t entirely ludicrous behavior and turned his attention to the snow leopard daemon.
The student waited expecting a word, and when it was clear he wouldn’t get one he let the tokay bottle clang against the side table.
Edward kept his eyes on Stelmaria as he spoke, “Do you think there was a point where you, Marisa, and I were all studying in Oxford at the same time?”
“If you were in your first year when I was in my last, and Marisa was in her last year when you met her to woo, how could we all be studying at the same time?” Asriel took a large swig allowing the smoke and the liquor to intermingle on his tongue.
Edward joked, “You know young girls like to go see the Jordan boys for fun.”
“Marisa would have been in France then.”
It was said too quickly. It shouldn’t have been remembered at all. Asriel figured Edward would register that and keep that in the catalogue of his mind, if not agitate his temper. Marisa had mentioned in passing that Edward could burn up in a second if one wasn’t careful around him.
“She would have,” Edward slumped back into his seat, “it was just a thought, that’s all.”
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Hey Green!🤩 For the trope ask: Fake Dating, Reincarnation, Rivalry and Childhood friends. Thanks💕
Loula!! Thanks for asking. I typed up a reply on Monday and then totally forgot I never posted it.
You can find the post being referenced, here. But also, I copied and pasted the important parts below.
A: Love it. Spend my time combing AO3 for it.
B: Like it. Not one of my bigger cravings, but it can scratch a certain itch if I’m in the right mood.
C: Neutral. A good author might be able to sell it, but a bad one will kill it deader than dead.
D: Not my favorite. I avoid it if I can, but it won’t necessarily put me off reading something.
F: Hate it. Will immediately make me nope out of a fic.
Now for the answers.
- Fake Dating
A! Love it! I read it and write it, and I’m so into it that it makes me go, “Gaaaaahhhhh I wish I was a better writer.” Wait. Don’t take that the wrong way. I’m not fishing for compliments. Like, I’m happy with my skill level as a hobbyist. It’s all good. But I love this trope so much I want to be able to elevate it even more, ya know? Super cute affectionate moments, but dripping with angsty uncertainty? What more could you want in life!?
- Reincarnation
C. Neutral. I guess? Not super confident about this answer because I haven’t read much of this trope. So I don’t know what other tropes usually get paired with it, and if it would be my jam or not. If we’re talking canon universe Jonsa, I’m all for fics that pick up right after Jon comes back to life. Like, that makes a lot of sense because that’s also around the time we expect Jon and Sansa to be reunited. Also, I went through a short stint recently of reading “Jon came back wrong” fics. And that was a lot of fun. But does that count? I’m not sure. And outside of that, I’m just not familiar enough with this trope to have a strong opinion.
- Rivalry
C. Neutral again. My Dramione days might be influencing me here. I once made a long post (which is probably now lost to a deactivated account) about how it’s actually not canon that Hermione *hated* Draco throughout school. I mean, sometimes he infuriated her. She slapped him. I get it. But for the most part, she had more patience for him than Harry or Ron did. She was more likely to roll her eyes and say something sarcastic than actually get mad.
So I got tired of the rivalry/enemies-to-lovers trope with Dramione, especially if it emphasized being snarky childhood rivals instead of, you know… overcoming their history as an actual Death Eater and a Muggle-born witch!! Does that make sense? Like, I’ve seen too many fics that just act like their canon dynamic was different than what it really was (probably stems from more movie watchers than book readers) while also ignoring the major appeal of the ship, if you ask me.
Buuuuut! Lately I’ve been spinning around some ideas that would combine fake dating and rivalry tropes for Jonsa, and that makes me like rivalry a little more than I would have said just a few days ago. Actually, calling my recent idea the rivalry trope might not be exactly right. But, like, a premise that would lead to a lot of distrust for them to navigate through while being forced to work together. That’s rivalry/enemies-to-lovers adjacent, and I like it.
So that’s why I still gave it a C instead of D or E.
- Childhood friends
B. Like it. This trope is super sweet and I like it a lot. But compared to a lot of other popular tropes, it runs a great risk of being kind of bland in execution. So I think it needs to be paired with other fun tropes and/or strong storytelling elements to keep the tension alive. I think one of the things I really like about Jonsa is that their childhood allows for a familiarity and closeness and deep sense of caring, but not full-fledged friendship. Which means there’s still a lot of room for tension and growth between them. Love that balance.
What about you, Loula? How would you grade these tropes? I’m curious!
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JAM??HELLO?WIP NAMED LEATHER BELT??
"You're in trouble …" Lenny said in a singsong voice as she walked past him, grinning.
Volodymyr glanced at her only briefly before looking at his wife.
She seemed to be ignoring him. At least she wasn't looking in his direction but was in the process of taking the wine bottles and glasses to the kitchen.
"Trouble," Lenny sang again, and with a sigh, Volodymyr looked at her and smiled before escorting her to the door.
"Good night, Lenny," he said once they got there, and they gave each other a quick kiss on the cheek.
Lenny just grinned widely and waved at him before she turned and left.
"Trouble!" she called again, and with a sigh and a shake of his head, Volodymyr watched her go before closing the front door.
(…)
"On a scale of 1 to 10 … how mad are you?" asked Volodymyr contritely.
Olena didn't even respond at first but finished drying the wine glass before putting it back in the cupboard.
"Me, mad? Why would I be mad?!" she asked sarcastically, and Volodymyr gulped when he saw her look.
"I'm really sorry," he said meekly and slowly took a few steps towards his wife, who had refilled her wine glass and was taking a sip.
With a resigned sigh, she looked at him and raised an eyebrow.
"So? What state disaster did you prevent?"
"We'd still have to read over the new law. The amendments must be incorporated tomorrow to get it to the parliament on time."
"Ah," Olena only replied and took another sip of wine.
Volodymyr took a few more steps closer and carefully put his arms around his wife's waist before tenderly pulling her close. He saw Olena trying to suppress a smile, and she just shook her head.
"I'm really, really, really, really, really, really, really sorry," he finally said softly, putting extra emphasis on each "really".
Olena sighed again and shook her head before rolling her eyes.
"After all, I know I married a workaholic. It would just be nice if my husband didn't forget me on our anniversary," she finally replied with a trace of reproach in her voice.
(…)
"I'm really sorry," Volodymyr said again, gently stroking Olena's leg.
With a sigh, she finally looked at him for a long moment and caressed his chin and cheekbones with her index finger. Volodymyr tenderly grasped his wife's hand, and their fingers intertwined. He brought the back of her hand to his mouth and kissed it fondly while maintaining eye contact with Olena.
"Your husband is an idiot," he murmured softly, putting his free hand on her cheek to caress it.
A small smile spread across Olena's face, and Volodymyr saw her gaze slowly become affectionate and tender again.
"I would agree with that statement," she finally replied, and Volodymyr returned her smile. "Just promise me that you won't forget me again. And keep this promise this time."
"I will never forget you!"
"You know what I mean, Vova."
He looked at her briefly, then nodded gravely before leaning toward her. Then, for a moment, he paused with his lips just millimetres from hers, giving her a chance to turn away if she was still angry. Olena indeed seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then she closed the gap between them and kissed him as lovingly as he knew she would. Volodymyr deepened the kiss and returned it affectionately.
Answer to the WIP Game.
#you get both#you get a glimpse and a part of the art#many many many thanks to the leather belt anon who send the art as inspiration!!!!#THATS SO COOL THAT SOMEONE SENT ME ART FOR MY WRITING#jam is writing#jam has fanfic#i wrote a fanfic#my fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic#and yes i know i tease you because nothing about a leather belt in the glimpse#wip tag#wip game#work in progress
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Happy Duck day all! This is a very exciting day for me since I get to see a lot more Duck posts.
Since it is Duck day, you get to have a summary of all of my Duck headcanons, as well as some more headcanons that I haven't previously mentioned.
-He is left handed.
-He is hypermobile, and sometimes needs a cane to walk. His joints also click and dislocate a lot. His muscles and joints grow stiff and ache if he doesn't stretch or click them for a while.
-He does waddle, no one knows why. (From an omniscient narrator’s perspective, it’s because of his struggle with balance and spacial awareness due to his autism and hypermobility). He has waddled since he started walking.
-He is English, and was born in the west country (Devon specifically).
-He is very strong, but he only knows some of his strength. (Oliver is the same. Duck is a lot stronger than him, but Oliver is still strong).
-He is autistic, but he doesn’t tell anyone. He prefers not to. Only his parents know. Edward suspects that he is autistic, but he hasn't mentioned it to him.
-He is known as “Duck” because he loves ducks, his hair flicks out at the ends like duck feathers and a male duck's tail feather, he waddles, he talks a lot sometimes like a duck quacking, and he stims by flapping his hands like a duck flapping its wings.
-His favourite foods are sandwiches (egg and cress is his favourite) and doughnuts (jam filled doughnuts are his favourite), he also loves cinnamon rolls and pie. Said foods are also his comfort foods.
-He loves baking, and is very good at it.
-He loves reading, and prefers to read non fiction books about his special interests.
-He has a dark green vintage satchel with a gold “GWR” on the front, a small GWR pin and a duck pin. He got the bag from his grandad who also worked on the GWR railway as a train driver. He got the pin when he was hired on the GWR, and his mom and dad bought him the duck pin when they all went on holiday when he was a child.
-He is very close with his parents and grandfather.
-He has no siblings.
-He has very little interest in dating (from an omniscient narrator’s perspective, he is grey ace, but he only likes men).
-He doesn’t get on with Thomas, and Thomas doesn’t like him.
-He loves tweed, and always wears it when he isn’t working.
-He loves smart fashion in general.
-He has perfect manners.
-He has a book that he writes in whenever he is upset or angry.
-He has quite extreme emotions, and struggles to control them sometimes.
-He tends to stare quite a bit. No one knows why. Is he daydreaming? Is he doing it on purpose to unnerve you? Does he want something from you? Does he just like staring? Perhaps it is all of them, who knows…
-His parents call him “little waddler”affectionately. It started when he walked for the first time and they kept calling him that since. They also affectionately call him “pumpkin”.
-He affectionately calls people that he likes "pumpkin".
-When he stands in one spot, he sways from side to side.
-He loves his hair and loves to watch and feel his hair flowing in the wind or underwater.
-He infodumps a lot. This is mainly where others’ annoyance for him talking comes from.
-He can naturally swim well and really likes the water. He is also very buoyant and loves floating in the water.
-His special interests are the great western railway, the sea, boats, smart fashion and birds.
-He has a large collection of canes that are practical and classy at the same time. Some even have duck heads to match with his name.
-He daydreams quite a lot.
-He can sing very well, and is very musically talented.
-He actually likes his name, because he considers it distinctive and classy. He also likes being referred to as "Duck" because it reminds him of how others see him (in a good way)
#ttte#ttte duck#my headcanons#my opinion#ttte headcanons#my rambles#headcanon list#duck day#8/8#duck
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Children of Zaun - Chapter 2
Pairing: Silco/Fem!OC
Rating: Explicit
Story Warnings: Canon typical violence, drug use/dealing, dark themes, eventual smut
Chapter Summary: Silco and his mother, Enyd, go about their morning routine and discuss politics. Sevika comes to pick Silco up for work and they discuss a certain mine medic.
Previous Chapter
Word Count: 3.1K
A soft clatter in the kitchen woke Silco. Then tell-tale muffled coughing. A hand clasped tightly over a mouth so as to not to be heard. He squeezed his eyelids and took a long, sharp breath in and a steady breath out. His exhale cooled the puddle of drool that had collected on his pillow and had seeped under his cheek. He grimaced, sitting up and wiping his mouth with his forearm.
His bedroom was dark but the sounds of the Undercity beating against the window told him the day was already very much started. He swung his long legs to the floor and padded over to the covered window. He gently peeled back the thick cloth tacked there and peered outside, squinting against the hazy glare of the sun through the Grey. The markets below had already unfurled dingy but colorful awnings, sex workers called after people who were heading home after graveyard shifts, Conveyor cars slid noisily up and down their cables, and grubby children shrieked as they ran to and fro between alleyways and levels of the Sump.
A louder, raspier string of coughs pulled Silco’s eyes away from his city and to his bedroom door. He reached for the shirt at the foot of his bed, pulled it on and made his way out of his room. He ran his long fingers through his scraggly locks of wavy hair, trying to temper the cowlick at the crown of his head.
Once in the sitting room of the apartment, he paused, eying the several piles of folded fabric and clothes carefully situated on the floor and coffee table. Every conceivable color and texture of garment, from humble drab canvas to frilly cream lace to bedazzled satin jewel tones. A harsh throat clearing from the kitchen jolted his attention back.
“Mum?"
Silco carefully wove in between his mother’s organized work and peered through the kitchen door. Her back was to him, shoulders high to her ears and vibrating with the force of her throat muscles trying to dislodge the irritation gathered there. It was always worst in the mornings. Silco stepped into the kitchen and fetched an empty glass jar from a cabinet and filled it with lukewarm water. She took it, hands shaking. She took sips in fits and starts, eventually draining the glass. The last gulp went down in a phlegmy grumble and she placed the glass in the sink. Her knuckles were stretched white as her hands gripped the sink and she hung her head. Silco rubbed a large circle against her back.
“Thank you,” she hoarsely whispered. Finally, she looked up at her son with the eyes he had inherited. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
Silco shrugged a shoulder. “I needed to be up anyway. Where’s that medicinal tea from the herb woman’s stall?”
Enyd’s thin face split in an adoring smile and cupped her son’s high cheekbones. “Oh, my sweet boy,” she ran her slender thumbs over the taut, youthful skin under his eyes. Her smile faltered almost imperceptibly as she said, “in the bag by the kettle.”
Silco affectionately squeezed his mother’s wrists before moving to gather the kettle and small paper bag. “Why don’t you go sit at the table. I’ll bring the tea and some bread over.”
Enyd did as instructed while Silco flitted about the kitchen. In no time at all, a steaming mug of green-colored tea and a chipped plate of bread Enyd had baked earlier in the week was placed on the table. The loaf was small, more crust than anything – which was why she hadn’t tried to sell it to her vendors in the marketplace. They only received her best goods and in return she received a hodge-podge of coins, wares, and favors. Silco placed one of the wares on the table next to the bread: a small jar of citrus jam, allegedly from somewhere far beyond the shores of Piltover and the Undercity.
Enyd brought the mug to her nose and sniffed. Tart. Acrid. Pungent enough that she could smell it. Years and years of working in the mines, having her nose and throat clogged by gases and explosive powder, had dampened her ability to smell and taste. Which meant if she could smell the stinging leaves floating in the hot water under her nose, surely Silco could. Her eyes flicked over to her son, who was tearing the burnt end of the loaf off and thinly applying the sunset-colored jam to it. She searched his face for any pinch of displeasure at the scent. She found none, and her chest tightened with adulation.
Enyd took a small sip of tea and her face puckered. “Disgusting.”
Silco gave a small huff through the bite of bread and jam in his mouth. “I don’t suppose there was any hope of it tasting good, being medicinal and all. Does it help?”
His mother took another short sip. “I suppose it does. I feel less winded throughout the day.”
“Good.” Silco slathered a layer of jam over a hunk of bread that had the most softness to it and pushed it over to her. Enyd took it, thankful for the way the texture of the bread and brightness of the jam dulled astringent after-taste of the tea.
Silco watched his mother passively, his teal eyes traveling between her and the tea. It wasn’t actual medicine, but it was currently the best thing available to them. It dulled her symptoms of the blight consuming her respiratory system – an illness she and other miners sometimes developed - but it wasn’t clear whether or not it would slow the disease’s progress. Curing it was a hope too far. As far as Silco knew even Piltover’s doctors, with all their grants, education and technology, hadn’t developed a cure. Not that they could be bothered to find one since it wasn’t their people toiling away in the mines.
Silco took a too hard bite on the crust in his mouth and a sharp edge stabbed the roof of his mouth. He muffled a pained exclamation, slapping a hand over his mouth. Enyd looked up from nursing her tea, surprised and concerned.
“Are you alright?”
Silco gave a muffled affirmative and nodded his head. He rolled the crust to one side of his mouth and chewed more carefully before swallowing.
“Fine.”
“I suppose it’s a good thing its physical time at the mine,” Enyd mused. “Have the medical staff take a look at your mouth.”
Silco scoffed. It bothered him that she still remembered the mines’ schedule. Although, if he allowed his mind to not be colored with bitter emotions, he knew it shouldn’t be surprising. She was literally born in the mines, had labored there (in more ways than one) up until five years ago. She couldn’t forget the majority of her life so easily. He wished she could, though. They had worked so hard, planned so carefully to get her out of the mines after the first annual physical had diagnosed her with the affliction that was slowly eating her from the inside out. He wanted her to pretend that she had always had these odd, piecemeal jobs – baking bread for marketplace stalls and mending garments for various citizens of the Undercity who could afford such a luxury (mainly Promenade dwellers).
He wanted her to forget.
To forget all the pain and hardship she endured underground.
He only wanted her to know the surface.
“The physicals don’t do a damn thing. It’s all show so Piltover can feel like they’re doing something.”
Enyd fixed him with a hard stare, “It’s not nothing. People died in those caverns left and right before Bone was finally able to pass regulations that ensured miner’s safety and well-being.”
Silco knew his mother admired the Undercity councilor. He had never seen such hope wash over her face when the news had spread like wildfire in the underground that one of their own had been accepted to the Piltover Council Chambers. It had been well over fifty years since the last Trencher had been invited into those hallowed halls.
Silco bit back another scoff brimming at the back of his throat. Jarrot Bone was maddeningly passive. Got a seat at the table and did precious little with it. The Undercity was still in squalor. Enforcers still brutalizing them whenever the opportunity arose. Citizens from the Underground couldn’t just walk across the Bridge and into the other half of the city.
No. Nothing of value had actually changed since Bone had reluctantly been given his seat by the Council. The only thing he had managed to accomplish was passing meager sanctions and regulations for how workers were treated and compensated in the mines from which he had also come.
Yes. The Piltie owners and operators of the mines were now saddled with the responsibility of providing yearly physicals to the thousands of workers there. At best, these appointments alerted you to a serious problem (like Enyd’s had), and would then do nothing about it. At worst, it took hours of pay out of your check for having to miss work in order to be told “You’re fine. Get back to the mines”.
Yes. All workers of the mines were now monetarily compensated. Though not enough to guarantee roofs over heads and full bellies. But technically they were paid, and it was enough for Piltover to lord over them. Even the children who worked in the mines were paid, albeit even more minimally compared to their adult counterparts.
Doing away with the use of child labor wasn’t a concession the Council was willing to make, citing that there weren’t enough adults small enough to fulfill the number of Slippers operations called for. The ‘compromise’ was paying children and adjusting their work hours to better accommodate their need for rest.
Yes. Once Bone’s new oversight was enacted, the abuse of miners by their superiors diminished. Namely because of the paperwork and lackluster ‘investigations’ would follow an altercation. Piltover couldn’t tolerate anything that would slow down their insatiable want, so maliciously abusing Undercity workers was no longer a regular occurrence. The Council had added a nasty little foot-note to this particular clause stating that if a worker assaulted a superior, they would be immediately fired. Potentially sent to Stilwater, depending on the severity of the attack. Push come to shove, that wasn’t a risk many miners were willing to take because, despite the health hazards and insultingly low wages, the mines still had the most consistent work-offerings and some of the best pay in the Undercity.
A rock and a hard place indeed.
Silco knew there was no point in maligning the Councilman in front of his mother. She held an odd, misplaced torch for him, and Silco’s cynicism and pragmaticism wasn’t going to snuff it out. No. Best to drop it.
“I should get ready to go. Sevika should be by any minute,” Silco said as he stood. He took up the bread plate and went back to the kitchen. “You should go up to the Promenade today. Get some fresher air.”
“I planned on it. I have some finished garments to drop off.” Another sip of tea, another grimace.
“I’m going to The Last Drop after I get off tonight.”
Enyd looked back toward the kitchen, her brow crumpling. Tea in hand, she stood as Silco began to slip back towards his bedroom.
“It’ll be very late,” she said, her mind flurrying with images of Enforcers and their faceless masks, sturdy batons. “Why don’t you just come back home for the night?”
“Can’t. I told Vander I’d be there.”
“Sevika?”
“She’ll be there too.”
“Silco,” Enyd urged, standing in his bedroom doorway.
“Mum, it’s fine,” he paused in gathering his clothes for the day. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll stay there overnight.”
His mother’s lips turned into a tight line. “What about Sevika?”
Silco couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling out of him. “Sevika? She’d be more fine than I would be on the other end of an Enforcers baton.”
Enyd was not soothed nor amused by that statement. As if on cue, a sturdy set of knocks thumped on the apartment’s door. Mother and son’s eyes followed the sound.
“Can you let her in, please? I’ll only be a minute.”
Enyd nodded and shut Silco’s bedroom door, before walking down the hall to their home’s entrance. Although, it was most certainly Sevika on the other side of the threshold, she peered through the fish eye all the same. Out of habit.
Enyd unlocked the door and opened it. Indeed, the tall and burly fifteen-year-old girl filled the doorframe.
“Mornin’ Ms. E,” Sevika greeted.
Enyd cleared her throat and replied in kind. “Good morning, Sevika. Come in, won’t you? Silco will be out in a moment.”
Silco hurried around his bedroom, putting on clothes with a thicker weave as they held up better in the dank mines and against the rough rocks. Once dressed, Silco sat on the edge of his bed and pulled his boots on. He paused a moment, pointy elbows resting on pointy knees, before reaching down, turning up a loose floorboard and retrieving the slim wooden box hidden there. He opened it and pulled out the three knives and whet stone stored within. The longest knife was slid into one of his boots; another was fastened to the inside of his pants along his left thigh; and the last he tucked up his sleeve. The whet stone slid into his trouser pocket. Silco stored the empty box back underneath the floor and gave the board a firm tap with his boot for good measure.
He stalked over to his lopsided dresser and grabbed the swatch of cloth bundled on its surface. He tied it loosely around his neck, the folded edge cowling around his collarbones, and the pointed tip covering the top of his chest like a bib. Reluctantly, Silco’s eyes turned up to his reflection in the dresser’s cracked mirror. Thin lips thinned further as he pulled his mouth into a tight line. He ran his fingers through his lank hair again before pulling the handkerchief around his neck up to test it. The fold sat well just over the ridge of his aquiline nose and the fabric sat snuggly against his cheekbones. The rest of it draped down toward the hollow of his throat, covering his mouth and chin. It was a piss poor substitute for an actual respirator, but since Bone’s regulations and standards hadn’t managed to accommodate such things, this had to do. It was still better than getting a nose and mouthful of metallic shavings and ore dust.
Silco tugged the handkerchief back down around his neck and left his bedroom.
Sevika sat at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of breakfast tea (the dainty mug looking ridiculous in her large hands). Enyd sat across from her, still nursing the medicinal tea.
“Ready to go?” Silco asked as he returned, fussing with the cuff of his sleeve.
“Good morning to you, too,” the teen smarmed, draining her cup and setting it on the table. “Thank you for the tea, Ms. E.”
“Of course, dear.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow, Mum.”
Enyd rose from the table and walked over to her son, Sevika brushing past them for the door. She smoothed her hands over Silco’s shoulders, fiddling with the leather epaulette on the right side. Her teal eyes looked up into his matching pair, a small smile on her thin mouth.
“Be careful.”
“I will be.”
“Do not go traipsing around the Lanes. Stay at The Drop.”
Silco rolled his eyes. “Yes. Okay.”
“Have the medical staff look at the cut in your mouth.”
“Mum.”
Enyd’s lips twitched, conflicted as to whether she was amused by his exasperation or annoyed that he was trying to brush her concerns off.
“Give my best to Vander and Benzo.”
“I will.”
“I love you.”
Silco sighed quietly through his nose. “I love you, too.”
“Stop smirking,” Silco growled, as he and Sevika walked through the twisted green-lit streets of the Undercity.
“I’m not smirking,” she insisted. “I think it’s nice. Sweet. But, hey, if you want to trade families, I’m down. My dad is an asshole.”
“You’ve mentioned.”
In a few practiced steps and leaps, Silco sprang up onto a gangway arcing over the street he and Sevika were making their way down. She was quick to follow, although a little clunky and heavy in her teenage reflexes. She had had a growth spurt in the last couple of years and was still learning her new height and girth.
“So,” she breathed, “I was able to make sure that our physicals were with her.”
“I’ve never met the nurse.”
“Yeah, I know. But I worked with Katya for years before they stuck me in the tunnels with the rest of you. Also, she’s technically not a nurse –“
“I’m technically not a junior foreman, but those are the responsibilities I’m saddled with anyway,” Silco spat. Another insult provided by Piltover: giving workers the responsibility of upper-level jobs without the title, respect, or pay.
“She’s not technically a nurse,” Sevika pressed on, “but she knows what she’s doing with medicine and medical supplies, and she’s the one that does the . . . ordering.”
Silco hummed at the back of his throat as they clambered to a higher level of the Sump. It had seemed too good to be true when Sevika had told him, Vander and Benzo that the clinic officer she had worked under for years ran a side operation of scalping drug and medical supplies she stole from the mines to Undercity denizens. They knew someone with medical know-how and access to supplies would be necessary for what they were planning – a revolution against Piltover.
Injury was inevitable. It was already happening. While violence in the mines had dropped, Street Enforcers still beat any Sumprat within reach. The number of people that got dragged into the safe house in The Last Drop’s basement for patching up was not slowing down. It would only get worse once the revolution started in earnest.
Death was also inevitable. But if Silco, Vander, Benzo, Sevika and the rest of the like-minded individuals they had managed to quietly rally so far were able to have access to medicines and other necessary medical supplies, they would hopefully be able to keep their numbers up to stand a chance against their oppressors.
“Will she be agreeable?” Silco asked as the mines came into view on the horizon.
“That, I don’t know.”
Notes: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment/reblogging. I'd really appreciate it :) I'm sending you all the love n' kisses!!
Coming Up Next: Katya and Sevika reconnect. Katya and Silco meet. And it goes about as smooth as crunchy peanut butter.
Next Chapter
#silco#silco arcane#arcane silco#silco x oc#silco fanfic#young silco#arcane fanfic#children of zaun#coz
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I’m obsessed with the new Jurassic movie! I’ve been sobbing over Beta and Blue (I am slightly disappointed that we did not get more Blue screentime) and the OG cast and the Jurassic world cast we did not get enough of them together. Clawen and Maisie have me in a vice grip. Anyway what are your thoughts?
I loved it so much! [sp*lers ahead for anyone who hasn't seen it] this turned out really long lol
I was actually really surprised there were negative comments about the movie- but then again I thought the same thing happened with Fallen Kingdom. I genuinely loved it and would rank it above FK although it's very close. I'm just such a sucker for the Jurassic movies that there's not one I don't like.
I went into it with 0 expectations or spoilers so my only wishes for the movie were 1. Claire doesn't die (I doubted she or any major character would bc Jurassic has never done that before but I was paranoid lol) 2. Claire and Owen would still be together and not another breakup/complicated thing. I worried for a second when Franklin mentioned them being 'weird' but someone pointed out to me how it made sense bc with Claire and Owen being in hiding all those years protecting Maisie, they wouldn't have seen him and Zia a lot or at all so they're not seeing the daily dose of affectionate/in a healthy stable relationship clawen.
Which points me to something else- I read some people saying they didn't like how Claire wasn't really working or seeing her career driven but imo that wouldn't have made sense in this movie. In the first JW she was working at the park, then she was handling the DPG. Now she's got to take care of Maisie so it wouldn't have made sense for her to be risking her and doing something concrete. She was helping the dinosaurs so she still very much had a purpose outside of Maisie and I didn't see any problem with it. The film also ended before we could see what she would do next but 1. There's only so much they could fit into this already jam packed movie and 2. I liked that a lot was left for interpretation.
Claire had SUCH a beautiful progression in these 3 movies. Her arc was the most prominent and it made me tear up. I also love that clawen were finally in a healthy relationship without any unnecessary drama. They communicated, they were partners. All those beautiful moments!! I hoped we would get another kiss like in the other movies but I wasn't expecting one- and then we got that long kiss moment, all those hugs! The worrying, the reunions. Sigh. That perfect plane scene with his "i love you".
I loved their reunion with Maisie as well, that hug + that other hug later with Claire and Maisie warmed my heart. If I had to get picky with anything in this movie was that I wish it had been longer lol had a Dominion part 2 but that's not that easy and they already had issues with COVID back then so I was impressed with all we got.
I wished Maisie called them "mom" and "dad" but I can also understand why they didn't. It could have been perceived as corny or too easy. Her calling them her parents was a lot already- which I loved. Even an apology scene with her and Claire would have been nice but it's not something that overly bothered me. And yeah it would have been nice to get more Blue, but again there was already so much happening in the movie.
I loved seeing Owen saving Claire for once in this movie. It didn't make her look weak, it was just realistic I mean they're surrounded by dinosaurs. They're all saving each other at some point and it was nice to have that. And I mean Claire was still really badass in this movie. That opening sequence and the jungle scene? oof.
I almost cried when the OG 3 met clawen and Maisie. The callbacks to JP were great without being cheesy. The script was smart without being corny. I'm just still on a high from it and can't wait to see it again. Normally with movies you don't really get great character writing and progression for a female character (claire) and an amazing love story without over the top drama. The most we saw was in FK post breakup but even then we got a lot of great moments between them. I just wasn't expecting all the clawen we got. At all. I was on cloud 9 repeatedly.
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Death Wish
Pairing: Hector Barbossa x reader
Warnings: Mentions of injuries, that is all
Requested by: @thestrangeundoing
A/N: A request for number 13 on my prompt list!!!
***
“Stay still, or you’re gonna hurt yourself even more, (Y/b).” Barbossa tells you.
You didn’t understand why you did what you did, at first you didn’t anyway. It all happened so fast, you could only just pick up on the memory of the event.
What happened was that you, along with the rest of the crew were on yet another raid of the enemy and you had done something that almost cost you your life, taking in a big risk as you were trying to protect Barbossa from a gun shot blast that was meant for him. It’s true that Barbossa has never been seen as the affectionate type to anyone before, but he came to to your aid after seeing yo in a jam trying to fight off two pirates in your own defense.
Once you were clear of trouble, thanks to Barbossa’s help, you were finally able to pull yourself back up on your feet. Barbossa had his back turn towards you, and that prevented him from knowing he was in the midst of danger after saving you. You were able to take action just in time, putting yourself back in the line of danger as you see the pirate a few feet away from you, pointing a gun to Barbossa’s back. The reaction had come out of instinct, calling out to him in warning before stepping in a s a shield in the nick of time. You took the gun shot blast to your right shoulder, as you stepped in the way of the intended target.
“Barbossa, behind you! He has a gun!” You holler, stepping in just as the trigger was pulled.
In that moment, Barbossa turned around just in time to catch your fall before looking to the one who brought harm to you.
The strange pirate only grinned insidiously back at him, watching as Barbossa tries to hold you steady in his arms. Once he got you, he barked at the others and orders them to do whatever it took of them to get rid of the one who hurt you. What helped for you and Barbossa to calm down a bit was realizing it was a shoulder wound and knowing that you were going to make a full recovery and survive. As Barbossa started to patch you up as best he could, your body started trembling as the adrenaline began to wear off, and that’s when he asks you to remain still. It was a little odd seeing him wanting to help you in the way he did, but what was even more out of the ordinary was how he was scolding you. He was scolding you as if you were a little kid getting caught trying to snatch a cookie from the cookie jar.
“Damn it, (Y/n)! How could you be stupid enough to put yourself in danger like that? Do you have a death wish or something?”
“I just saved your life!” You argue back.
“That’s not the point here, (Y/n). What it is, is that you almost got yourself killed!”
You didn’t have anything to say to his statement. You could only think to yourself that if he wasn’t going to be grateful for that, you you wouldn’t have anything to say to him at all.
In fact, you wouldn’t say much or nothing to him at all through the following days. Barbossa was clearly annoyed by it, but you kept at it until he finally seemed to get your point in this. As you were resting in your cabin one evening, you hear the door creak open, followed by the sound of his footsteps making their way to you, as he let himself inside. You weren’t really asleep, but you allowed him to believe are, and it paid off well as he seemed to start rehearsing an apology he was going to give once you wake up.
“I know you meant well, (Y/n). I just don’t like seeing you get hurt to protect someone or something no matter who they are or what it is.”
You shift a little bit to hear him better, having him thinking you were shifting on your sleep before continuing.
“It’s not that I’m not grateful for you saving me from certain death, but I don’t want you taking anything that risky again. If I ever find you pull a stunt like that again, you’ll be finding yourself being thrown overboard.”
He pauses, not knowing what else to say.
“I don’t know what else to say, I guess…” His voice trails off.
That’s when you come up with something to say, letting him know that you heard and accepted his attempt of an apology.
“Can you just thank me and let it go?” You say, startling him a little bit.
“I thought you were asleep.”
Mat this, you open your eyes and sit up a little, a smirk forming on your lips.
“You never know.”
“Oh. Well then, thank you.”
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” You tease.
Barbossa rolled his eyes in response before exiting your cabin, you couldn’t resist a chuckle before following out the door behind him. Sometimes he can be a hard case, but there is a side to him that has a heart.
A heart of gold, as you would call it. You were one of the rare lucky ones to get to see that side of him, and you often wish that you could see more of that.
But still, lucky you.
***
@savvythepirate
Requests: OPEN
#jack sparrow imagines#jack sparrow imagine#jack sparrow x reader#jack sparrow#hector barbossa imagines#hector barbossa imagine#hector barbossa x reader#hector barbossa#davy jones imagines#davy jones imagine#davy jones x reader#davy jones#pirates of the caribbean imagine davy jones#pirates of the caribbean imagines#pirates of the caribbean imagine#pirates of the caribbean x reader#pirates of the caribbean#i take requests#requests are welcome#requests are open#send in a request#taking requests#request#requested#requests#ask box#ask box is open#send in an ask
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Have you thought about that moment in Get Back where Paul says ''Good try that, Johnny'', and George says something immediately after to John, addressing him ''John'' pointedly? Like very pointedly. I mean it might have been discussed on Tumblr, but I just rewatched it on Youtube (it's in the beginning of a short video there called ''George's admiring Eric Clapton & Billy Preston'') and that moment always makes me smile and wonder.
It's just a tiny second of interraction between the tree of them but a mess of so many possible feelings. It definitely sounds like George is either mocking Paul or in otherwise responding to the fact that Paul said ''JohnnY''. Like he's acknowledging that that petname sounds affectionate and is annoyed by that fact. It's also interesting to me that apparently it DID sound special/affectionate, it wasn't common for people to call John that, if George payed attention to it. It's like.. George's reaction in a way for me confirms Paul's affection which is why the moment makes me smile mostly. But also... they're not teenagers anymore but George is annoyed/jealous? That Paul likes John? That John's ass is kissed by Paul? That they were an annoying petname-calling team like that still?
I mean it's kinda hilarious but also like our weird fanfictions are not so far from the truths. Sorry for that long rant over one second of Get Back, what do you think? :D
Hello. This is interesting, isn't it? My following response is assuming that this dialogue is presented in Get Back as it was (more or less) said in real life. Which, we know might not be the case. So, for a start, I’m ignoring the visuals in this. But, anyway, with that aside:
I do totally agree that George's 'John' does seem a pointed moment in response to Paul's ‘Johnny’. And yes! I think Paul's trying to create some sort of short-hand/intimacy with John there too. I think, overall, George is trying to win John over to his way of thinking in his on-going argument with Paul. I think it’s pointed because he’s sort of saying “Oh, no you don’t, Paul. You don’t get to win by pulling on your weird ass relationship with John.”
I’m not sure, entirely, why he’s annoyed. Because I don’t think it’s wildly unusual for Paul to call him Johnny in that context.
I wonder if it’s possible George's annoyed because Paul says it was good. Then sort of pauses and only calls out John as being good, and George takes that to mean Paul thinks George wasn't good? I can’t remember what they’ve just finished playing, so assuming they’ve all just done a song, that could be part of it?
But overall, I think he’s annoyed because he's trying to win the argument that he's been having with Paul since the start of the sessions i.e. how they should go about crafting these songs. So, he's mostly disagreeing with Paul that the take was good.
I do think this is part of George's on-going issues with the whole idea of the project. Specifically, he's talking here about why he can't do what Paul wants him to do: stop and fix each wrong note as they go (by which George thinks Paul thinks he should just automatically know how the song ought to go), or allowing them to play through it and figure it out once they have the overall shape.
I'm not sure if George is just very insecure during these sessions or what, but it's a clear through line from this chat to "You need Clapton for that" where John says, "We need Harrison". And likely why John jokes they should just bring him in when George leaves.
None of the Beatles were good at just jamming - when they tried it, apparently it was often terrible. Paul's dismissive, "That's jazz, man," is meant to say, "So what if Eric does that? Doesn't make him better than us, or what you do." Anyway, I think this is all part of them trying to get John to weigh in on one of their sides. Which is interesting, because by all accounts that isn’t what he ever did. Let alone by this time in their relationship.
Anyway, none of this takes away from anything you’ve put here. I just think it’s more about them more directly fighting for John’s approval/agreement. Which John is resolutely not about to do...
It’s also funny/sad that George thinks that Paul and John still likely have that bond. I mean, they do but the very timid sort of way Paul says ‘Johnny’ sort of suggested that he’s not even sure of his place with John currently. Like, he’s trying to get John engaged and in doing so is excluding George. The dynamics are wild and painful to behold!
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AroAce™ things that Gregory/Evan does without even fucking KNOWING until he was educated on the aspec community:
______________________________________________________________
Understanding romantic and sexual relationships on a fundamentally and purely scientific level (as if he’s purely an observer)
“Why do people kiss”
Gets mistaken for someone being cold or prudish, and yeah, he can be cold at times, but can you like not lol
He asked a parent super awkwardly during a birthday party if “they possessed any other offspring” and immediately regretted his life decisions lmfao (Michael/Freddy standing onstage like ‘did you just’)
Loves to cuddle but also respects when other people don’t want to cuddle
Doesn’t understand crushes
“SOMEONE COMFORT ME I THOUGHT CAKE BY THE OCEAN WAS ABOUT EATINV CAKES BY THE OCEAN” \\\ “wow you are not ready to hear about milkshakes bringing boys to the yard”
HE WHEN ASPEC REPRESENTATION SOBS IN UGLY CRY THEY JUST LIKE ME FR
“You’re too young to know what you want in life” “bitch I’m 67 years old and do you know? exactly so stfu”
Ocasionally pretends to have crushes on people when he’s still closeted so people wouldn’t get suspicious, but everyone could tell they were obviously fake.
Daydreams about him and people he’s close to being playable characters and having a moveset in Super Smash Bros and Fire Emblem instead of romantic fantasies
Ate an entire jam cookie and chocolate sweetheart cookie bouquet a girl from his school personally gifted him (“Ah, they’re even frosted! Thank you for this gift so much!”) only to realize later that shit it was for Valentine’s day this girl had a crush on me and I knew from the beginning but I still didn’t bother to reject her. The cookies were her asking me out and it flew over my head until later tonight oh fuck oh god oh what do I do. He even ate an entire pound of belgium chocolate one guy gave him personally only for Michael to smack him over the head for being a dumbass when it comes to rejection, probably because he doesn’t really care about romance when it comes to him.
Calls people he’s affectionate with or likes teasing a bunch of nicknames on occasion just because he has the urge (e.g. Papa Bear, Floridian Tincan, calls some classmates names such as darling, sweetheart, jerkface, imbecile and honey just for laughs).
Understands people and can read them very easily, but does not know how to talk to them.
Relates to the desire for cuddles and emotional love expressed via words of affirmation and physical affection, but immediately shies away from picturing himself in romantic scenarios
“Wanna be my SO when we’re older?” “I can’t age anymore but yeah I’ll gladly be your supervising officer and boss”
DEVOTES™, RESPECTS™, LOVES™ AND ADMIRES™ THE HELL OUT OF EVERYONE HE’S CLOSE TO BECAUSE HIS TRUST IS A LUXURY ONLY HE GETS TO DECIDE TO WHOM HE SHALL DISTRIBUTE IT TO SO GENEROUSLY.
Doesn’t get why people find other people ‘hot’. Like yeah, she’s attractive ig, her hair is nice and she knows how to apply makeup properly, what else can possibly be there? Experiences aesthetic attraction to physical features and compliments them but the thought of actual attraction just baffles him. Like ‘oh I want her to sit on my face’ or ‘yeah I’d tap them cheeks’ and he’s just sitting there, peeking up from his book like ‘r u ok? Do I need to call ambulance?’
“Wtf are crushes I beg of you someone please tell me right the hell now istg”
Cries when playing Animal Crossing and Stardew Valley on Vanessa’s switch
‘DND’ AGGRESSIVE LILTING CHANTS INTENSIFY “DND”
Is very confused on how dates are considered inherently romantic? Like how is taking your friend out to a fancy seafood restaurant with spicy creamy shrimp alfredo and garlic buttered freshly baked breadsticks and then having delicious chocolate mousse cake considered?? Romantic?? Let me enjoy the good food? Like yea I would take a beachside walk with my friends Cassidy and Charlie and my family any day stop trying to give everything a romantic subplot please lol-
‘Oh you’ll find someone one day’ *pinches nose in stfu even though he doesn’t know why such things frustrate him*
Literally anyone tries to apply romance to him he’s like “can you don’t” for reasons still unbeknownst to him
‘You can’t be like that, romance and love is part of what makes us human’ *CRACKS NECK AROUND 180 DEGREES LIKE AN OWL YOU DARE OPPOSE ME MORTAL*
Just gives off aroace vibes in the subtlest way to everyone around him
#FNAF Security Breach#FNAF Gregory#crying child fnaf#crying child#Evan Afton (CC/BV)#gregevan/gregbot/gregvessel#my au fnaf
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