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munsonsduchess · 6 months

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Monster Smash

summary: you meet eddie at a house party and the night takes an unexpected turn warnings: underage drinking, recreational drug use (weed), face sitting, oral (f receiving), semi public sex (eddie and the reader are in a room at a frat house during a party) w/c: 977 a/n: surprise bitch! another halloween fic! honestly with the amount of ghostface content on tiktok these days it was kind of inevitable we'd end up here, i was originally just going to post the other halloween fic but this one wouldn't leave me alone

It was Halloween and you were having the worst time. You didn’t know anyone at this party your roommate had dragged you to, citing that you needed to get out more, the drinks were shit, the music was shit, honestly you were tempted to just sneak out the back door of this frat house and claim you’d met somebody if your roommate asked the next day.

You sighed and took another drink from your lukewarm beer and pulled at the hem of the black dress you were wearing. Usually you didn’t feel self conscious in the things you picked for yourself but being, less petite, than some of your peers and wearing something your roommate had picked out so you could both wear matching costumes (you got to be the bad witch) in a room full of obnoxious frat bros made you feel slightly … less confident than normal.

You were about to cut and run when a guy appeared in front of you wearing a Ghostface Costume,

“What’s your favourite scary movie?”

“The Exorcist, 1973. A masterpiece in horror cinema” you responded without thinking. You hadn’t actually expected anyone to talk to you, after being basically ignored all night

“That’s, yeah that’s a really good pick” the guy pulled his mask off and you found yourself looking into the face of the local weed guy, Eddie Munson.

Everyone you knew, yourself included, bought their weed from Eddie. His stuff was guaranteed to be the best and not laced with anything it shouldn’t be,

“It’s the line from the homeless guy in the subway ‘can you help an old altar boy father’ and then later on when they’re in Regan’s bedroom and she says the same thing in the same voice. Chills. Literal chills”

“Such a good movie. They don’t make movies like that anymore, y’know? Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Rosemary’s Baby”

“Have you seen X? Or Pearl? They have the same kinda vibes but are totally modern movies”

“I’ve seen X. Massive Texas Chainsaw vibes”

“Right!”

You ended up finding a quiet corner with Eddie where the two of you could talk about horror movies for the rest of the evening. You’d honestly never really found anyone who loved horror the way you did so it was amazing to be able to vibe with someone like this.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ 👻 ⋅.} ───── ⊰

The party raged on into the wee hours and by now both you and Eddie were feeling the effects of the beer and few joints you’d shared. You were feeling pleasantly buzzed and enjoying the attention of an attractive man, even if it wouldn’t go anywhere.

“It’s so cool that you’re into horror, most people get freaked out or maybe enjoy those like conjuring movies”

“Ugh. The Warrens are the absolute worst, by all accounts they just scam people and then use their stories to write books and make more money” you gestured widely around the room, “how fucked is that?”

“Totally fucked” Eddie agreed

“You know I almost didn’t come tonight but my roommate kinda forced me to”

“Remind me to send your roommate a fruit basket or something as thanks then” Eddie said, “cause this is definitely a way better night than I thought it was gonna be”

“It’s so cool to meet a friend tonight” you agreed, “but aren’t you like ‘working’ the party?”

Eddie laughed and you had to admit you loved the sound. You wondered if he would want to still be friends after the party was over,

“You’re cute. I mean sure it’s great talking like this but honestly, I saw you standing on your own and seriously couldn’t understand why cause just the sight of you in that dress had all the blood in my body run south. I mean, the fact that you’re awesome on top of being drop dead hot is a bonus”

Your brain short circuited for a moment and you couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing,

“So, you wanna get a room?”

“Absolutely I do”

Eddie smirked wickedly at you before helping you off the couch and pulling you behind him to the main staircase and along a corridor to an empty room.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ 👻 ⋅.} ───── ⊰

“Sit on my face, come on” Eddie grinned at you, taking one of your hands and pulling you towards the bed.

You followed the tug and threw one leg over the bed and balanced on your knees. Before you could even try to think about how much weight to bear down you felt Eddie grab your hips and pull you down onto his face forcefully.

There was no way you could focus on anything but the way Eddie licked into you hungrily. His hands on your hips dug into the flesh there and you threw your head back with the intense feelings, moaning loudly.

“Oh my god Eddie”

Beneath you Eddie made a muffled noise which you assumed was positive since he didn’t stop what he was doing for even a moment.

You wondered briefly how he could breathe but the thought left your mind as quickly as it had arrived when Eddie’s nose brushed against your clit and you saw stars.

Eddie continued to suck and lick you through your orgasm and the aftershocks, the oversensitivity made you want to pull away but Eddie held you firm coaxing yet another orgasm from you until your legs began to shake. Only then did he allow you to pull away and catch your breath,

“Holy shit” you panted, trying to regain some of your self control,

“That’s only the warm up act baby. It’s just you and me and no one is gonna hear you when you scream my name as loud as you want to”

This was definitely a way better night than you’d thought it would be when your roommate forced you out tonight.

After all what was Halloween without a few screams?

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joshlmbrt · 2 months

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˚ ✦.·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚ SOMEONE WHO LOVES YOU WOULDN’T DO THIS | e. munson x reader

w; part of ‘truck driver!dad!eddie universe’ - but can be read as a standalone, parent death, grieving, mentions of pregnancy, eddie has a sister, usage of pet names, mentions of past alcoholic father

playlist; even if we try - night beds, infinity street - richard walters, let down - radiohead, a quick one before the eternal worm devours connecticut - have a nice life, family line - conan gray, waiting room - phoebe bridgers, motion sickness - phoebe bridgers, happier than ever - billie eilish, mum - luke hemmings, i’m tired - labrinth, zendaya, solas - gibran alcocer, think of me once in a while, take care - take care

an; this one is a bit deeper, i apologize. but i hope you all enjoy :)

NOVEMBER 15TH, 1989

Eddie didn’t know why he was here in a hospital waiting room, waiting for any news for the man who caused him torment for most of his life until had kicked him out of the trailer.

His knuckles rests against his chin as his eyes stare at the shiny floor. He’d left work without a word. He still smelled of grease and had tied the arms of his work uniform around his waist. He still hadn’t called you or Wayne. He knew you’d be getting worried, especially if Warren, his boss, had called and asked if everything was okay at your end.

He glances up at the time, standing from the uncomfortable chair that had made his lower half numb from sitting. He walked towards an exit - he needed a smoke and to call you.

He’s reaching into his pocket, pulling a cigarette from the pack and lights the stick with shaky hands. He hadn’t had one in almost three months, trying to stop since you were pregnant.

He broke his streak all because of his father - if he could even call him that.

His eyes land on a pay phone when he blows out some smoke, walking towards it. He lifts the phone from the receiver, pulling his wallet from the pocket on his shirt, fishing out some quarters.

He slots two into the machine, deciding to call Wayne first. He still needed to collect his thoughts on what to say to you. He knew as soon as he heard your caring and tender voice, he’d break down.

It picks up after the third ring. “Hello?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have called anyone. He can feel the burning of tears.

“Hello?” Wayne repeats.

“Uh,” Eddie clears his throat. “Alan’s in the hospital.” Eddie used to call him Dad, of course. But now that he’s older, he feels like he never earned that title.

It’s silent on the other end and Eddie glances towards the door where he can see a nurse in green scrubs leave a room. He brings the cigarette to his lips and inhales deeply.

Eddie clears his throat again, looking towards the silver keypad. “If you… wanna come to the hospital, I’m here too.”

Wayne asks if you’re there with him.

“No, she’s… she’s still at home. Would you mind-”

“No. I don’t mind pickin’ her up. We’ll be there soon.” The line goes dead before he could even say anything. He looks at the last two quarters he had laid out before slotting them into the machine again.

You pick up on the second ring.

“Hello? Eds?”

His heart clenches a bit and brows pinch together. “Hi, sweetheart.” He hears a sigh on the other end.

“Baby, jesus. Are you okay? Where did you go when you left work? Why didn’t you call me? I was worried sick when Warren called me and told me you left in a hurry.”

He scratches at his throat with his ring and pinky - he’s trying to sooth the knot forming in his throat. He shakes his head to himself - don’t cry. Do not cry. He doesn’t deserve the tears. “I’m okay, sweetheart, don’t worry your head,” The cigarette seemed to have burned faster and he hisses quietly when the heat tingles at his fingers. He drops it to the ground, stomping it out with the toe of his boot before picking it up from the ground.

“Wayne is coming to pick you up.” He says.

“What? Why? Eddie, honey, what’s going on?”

His fingers scratch at his temple and he shifts on his weight. “I… I’m at the hospital. And before you freak out, I’m okay. At least, I think I am. It’s kind of hard to know what I’m feeling right now. Or understand it.”

And he wasn’t lying - there were a bunch of emotions swirling around his mind and he didn't know which one stood out more.

Bitterness because his life was actually turning around - he’d gotten into school to study for truck driving and he was doing excellent. He was about to have his own little family with you. And now, somehow, Alan had wiggled his way back into his life even if he didn’t know it just yet.

Anger because there was nothing he could do besides sit there and feel as if he’s losing someone - something - who was never in his life and doesn’t deserve an ounce of sympathy.

Shame because he's feeling that anger bubble up in his chest when he knows Alan never really knew how to be a father so he can’t blame him fully for his actions.

“Baby, I'm so sorry,” Your voice is soft and it sounds like it cracks at the end of your apology that you shouldn’t even be giving him. Because he doesn’t care.

Right?

“Wayne and I will be there soon. He just pulled in,” There’s a small weight lifted off his shoulders knowing that he won’t be alone in his thoughts much longer. “Have you tried to call Jess?”

The weight is added back on. Jessica, his oldest sister who he hasn’t spoken to since she had left, doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t even know if she would answer the phone.

“No.” He finally says.

You let out a small sigh, deciding to drop the subject since you know how tender it is. “Okay. That’s okay, honey. We’ll be there soon, okay? I love you.”

There’s a small catch in his throat and he blinks away the tears that had dried up once, and decided to come back. “I love you.”

The line goes dead on the other in and he’s placing the telephone back onto the receiver, sniffing when his nose starts to tingle. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, walking towards the doors he exited out of.

His fingers graze over two quarters and he stops in his tracks.

He turns back towards the phone and pulls the telephone from the receiver once again, slotting the coins in and punches in Jessica’s number. He’s hoping it’s the same number or he would just be embarrassed by punching in the number of a ghost sister.

The phone picks up and he holds his breath.

“Hello?”

It’s Jessica. And the only way he knows is because he sounds like their mother - soft-spoken with a hint of raspiness around the edges of the spoken words.

“Uh, Jessica?” He asks, even though he knows for sure it’s her.

“Eddie? What’s going on? You okay?”

“I don’t exactly know,” He says truthfully. “Dad’s in the hospital. The doctor said he doesn’t have long.”

It’s silent on the other end. He wonders if she is feeling the way he feels at the moment. Confused and conflicted about the way he feels.

For a moment, he thinks she’s hung up the phone and walked away like she did before.

He doesn’t blame her.

But then again, he hates that this is the only time that they’ll talk until something else happens. Eddie and Jessica are the same - whether they like to admit it or not.

There’s a small sniffle over the other end. “I don’t know why you’re calling me about it. I could care less. Let him die.”

That makes Eddie’s heart clench a little, eyes closing slowly as his brows pinch together. “You… You can’t even try to come down. To see me at least?”

“A car works both ways, Eddie.”

The line goes dead then.

He stares at the telephone when he pulls it from the curtain of curls and blinks, a tear rolling down his flushed cheek. It’s bitter outside and Eddie can’t help but think why didn’t I bring a coat?

Why did this have to happen?

What’s next?

It only takes thirty more minutes after the call with Jessica to see you walk in.

You pause in front of his seat, fingers brushing back the fringe that rests against his forehead. “Hi, sugar. I’m here.” It’s soft spoken and the world seems to shatter then.

His shoulders shakes as he sobs, fingers pressing into his eye sockets before his arms wrap around your waist, face pressing into the small bump that was hiding under the sweatshirt you wore.

Your eyes tear up from his sobs, a gut wrenching, soul crushing sob that comes deep from burying it inside a metaphorical glass bottle - it shatters and leaks over.

Because you thought you could handle one more thing going inside that bottle.

His head rests on your shoulder and Wayne had gone back first to see Alan.

‘It’ll give you a bit of time.’

Your thumb traces over his knuckles and you lift your shoulder slightly to catch his attention. “You okay, baby?”

He nods, lifting his head as he sniffles, nose red. He lifts his hand, wiping at his wet cheeks. He opens his mouth but you’re quick to cut him off.

“It’s okay,” He turns to look at you, brown eyes swimming in tears. His chin wobbles. Your hand lifts and you give him a small smile. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I know it’s confusing how you feel. But when you’re ready to talk, I’ll listen for however long you need me too.”

He nods, cheek sliding against your palm. There’s a clearing of a throat that catches his attention. He sees Wayne, a man who he’s only seen cry twice.

When Mary passed away - Eddie’s aunt who made the best homemade cobblers and had a singing voice you could never forget.

And when his own mother passed. A woman who smelled of cinnamon and hints of vanilla honey. A woman who truly was an angel and would do anything for anyone.

This makes Eddie’s third time seeing Wayne’s swollen eyes.

He’s crying for his brother now.

“You can, uh-” He pauses, clearing his throat as he shifts on his tired feet, blinking a couple of times as he sniffs. “You can go back and see him.”

Eddie looks over at you and you smile at him softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. “I’m right here.” You whisper softly.

His eyes close momentarily and he nods against your lips before standing slowly.

His steps are slow, his mind's racing, and his hands are fuzzy. He makes a fist a couple of times before shaking them out.

The last time he’s seen Alan was when his face was plastered on the news for a break and entering he was running from - now he’s in a bed with tubes poked into his arm.

His breath hitches and he flinches when the heavy door closes.

He glances over his shoulder before walking towards the right side of bed, staring down at his hand. His own hand twitches at his side.

He lifts it, fingers tracing over the course and rough skin of his fathers hand. He watches as Alan’s fingers twitch and his eyes dart up towards his face.

His eyes are heavy, but they're open.

“Why did you hate me?” It’s coming out of his mouth before he can stop himself. He didn’t know what he wanted to say, or what he was going to say - but that wasn’t in his mind.

“Why did you hate us?”

There’s a slow blink and a small quirk at the corner of his lips. Eddie’s brows pinches and he feels the all too familiar sting in his eyes as he notices it.

Even near death, he’s a man dulled by any sort of emotion.

Eddie leans down slowly. “I’m so glad I’ll never be like you,” There’s a certain fire to his voice - raw emotion that makes the words crack. “Mom deserved better than you. Jess deserved a better father than you. I deserved better,”

His hands clench at the bedsheets. “Why? Why did you do what you did?”

He sees a small quirk in Alan’s lips again, anger burning in his chest when he hears the flatline. His head whips around before his hands grip at the hospital gown covering his chest.

“No! No! Why?! I want an answer! I deserve an answer!” The doors are opening and he feels a tugging at his arm. “No! Get off of me!” His arms slip from the grip and his arms are gripping at the tattooed arms of Alan Munson’s dead body.

“Wake up, you coward!”

“Eddie!”

“I hate you! I’m glad you’re dead! I wished you would’ve died sooner!”

He’s sobbing and hitting Alan's chest, but he’s still babbling, ‘why? Why did you make me feel this way?’.

Your hands pull at his arms, pulling him away from the lifeless body who left in silence again like he always did.

Eddie’s head drops onto your shoulder, knees buckling as he grabs at your shirt. Your hands smooth back his hair as your eyes watch them roll Alan away.

Wayne’s hand meets the back of his neck, gripping softly. Eddie chokes out another sob and turns to lean into Wayne. Your forehead leans against Eddie’s back.

Wayne’s eyes close, a hand cupping the back of Eddie’s head. “It’s okay… It’s okay, son.”

Wayne has to keep Eddie’s legs from buckling, his arm wrapping around his back and keeping him up straight as he sags into him.

NOVEMBER 20TH, 1989

There’s a certain distinct smell to old photos.

Eddie couldn’t describe it if he could, but he still pulls the photo up to his nose, eyes closing as he inhales, hoping to catch a whiff of the day that was frozen in time permanently.

His hand pulls away from his nose dejectedly, finger tracing over the small version of him standing in front of his mom, her hand placed on top of the sunflower floppy hat that she always loved to wear on sunny picnic days.

He always remembers those days. She would try her best - make finger sandwiches, little lemon bars, and pack some fruit and chips on the side - and Alan would sip a cheap beer on the open field, eyes filled with a certain emotion Eddie could never place when he was younger.

Now he thinks he could place it - Anger. Resentment.

“I hope he looks like you.” Eddie flinches when he hears your voice. He has no energy to turn and look at you - he feels angry at himself that he can’t, but you’d never hold it against him.

He feels you sit down on the rough carpet, the feeling of sandpaper scraping against the palm of your hands when you make a small noise. You lean into his side, pushing an unruly curl away from his cheek.

“You okay?” You whisper softly.

His thumb traces over the picture, blinking slowly. “I remember this day,” He says instead. Your eyes cut away from him and look at the photo. There’s a small smile that plays on his lips. “It was Wayne, Jess, Mom, and I only… That was one of our happier picnics.”

You smile and reach out to turn his hand a bit so you can take a better look at the photo. “She's beautiful. Now I know where you get your looks from.”

He smiles a bit and places it in the keep pile. There weren't many photos he was keeping.

The throw away pile was a bit more.

The next photo he pulls from the shoe box that had chewed holes from rats and a tear in the side was one that made him stop a bit.

Alan sits on the ratty flannel recliner that he always refused to get rid of, a beer bottle in his hand while Eddie sits on his lap.

Blind by child joy, he’s grinning - two missing teeth - as he waves at the camera, baby hairs stuck to his forehead.

Alan sits back, mouth pulled into a frown as he stares at the camera.

Your hand rubs at his back.

“He couldn’t even hold me right.”

You know what’s coming when your ears pick up on the catch in his voice.

He turns to look at you, lip wobbling as he shakes his head. “Why did he hate me so much?”

Your head tilts and you pull him closer to your chest, holding his head when you feel his shoulders start to shake.

You couldn’t answer that even if you wished you could.

There’s a knock at the door. Eddie glances over at you, shifting in the bed as he pulls the covers up more over your shoulder.

He places a kiss against your forehead, smiling softly when he notices your nose scrunches softly.

He turns and walks towards the living room, flipping on a light. He unlocks the door and swings it open.

“Hey.”

He’s a bit sleep disoriented from the little sleep he had. He blinks. “Jessica?”

She smiles softly. “I, uh… I couldn’t come to the funeral.” It’s too final. I don’t want to see him again.

He nods. “It’s okay.” I understand. You don’t have to apologize.

She scratches at her neck and clears her throat, a tell. He steps closer, staring at her for a moment, nodding slightly.

It’s choked but a sound leaves her throat and she tries blinking away the tears. His arms wrap around her neck, her own arms immediately wrapping around his side.

“I’m sorry,” She breathes out shakily. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve… I should’ve been there with you.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. You did what I wished I could.” He pulls away, giving her a small smile - it’s shaky.

“It’s… I should’ve called you more. I should’ve come to visit you more. Now… now you’re gonna be a dad.”

He smiles softly, nodding. “And you’re gonna be an aunt.”

The laugh she lets out is watery and she wraps her arms around his neck again. “You’re gonna be the best dad.”

His eyes squeeze shut at that because he’s been afraid. Afraid that he’ll become his dad even when he doesn’t want to.

“I’m so proud of you, Eds.” It’s whispered.

He lets out a little sigh, eyes peeking up at the stars. He watches as one shoots across.

Hi, Mom. I miss you.

“I’m proud of you too, Jess.”

ᡣ𐭩 thanks for reading. reblogs, comments, likes, & feedback is welcomed, encouraged, & deeply appreciated.

— @stveharringtn 2024

[ special tag; @corrodedcherry ]

#cherry writes ✿#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #joseph quinn x reader

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flowerhrt · 1 year

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the end of love | daisy jones.

pairing: daisy jones x fem!reader

summary: two weeks after your break up, daisy decides to confront you and ask what's wrong.

warnings: it's the 70s, internalized homophobia, eddie being a bit of a dick, daisy is clean and the band is still together, reader is a lesbian.

a/n: i interpret daisy as a lesbian who deals with compulsive heterosexuality.

word count: 2.4k

breathe in. breathe out. it's just one song. record it all in one go, ignore billy's stupid complaints, and then go home.

well, what used to be home.

“daisy, you ready to go?” she heard teddy ask from the other side of the recording booth. “yeah, i'm fine. let's get this over with.” the redhead said before taking a sip of the glass of cold water she had next to her. she closed her eyes as she felt the liquid make its way through her throat.

breathe in. breathe out. she opened her eyes to find the band and camila next to teddy, all smiling encouragingly at her. daisy was about to smile back when the door to the recording studio opened abruptly. “holy shit, tell me i'm not late.”

oh fuck.

daisy felt like her heart was about to beat out of her chest. why is she here? she was supposed to be in new york, not los angeles.

“y/n! you are kind of late.. hope it was for a good reason.” warren said with a wink “tell me the guy at least fucks good.” the drummer added while wiggling his eyebrows.

the blue-eyed singer wanted to disappear. she tried to distract herself by playing with the hems of her long-sleeved white shirt. huh, funny. daisy thought. she always loved it when i wore this one.

“yeah, warren. he fucked better than you ever will.” y/n answered, not before rolling her eyes at their friend.

they didn't know y/n didn't fuck any guy last night.

they didn't know y/n would never fuck a guy. ever. they didn't know y/n was late because she didn't know if she could face her ex girlfriend after she told her she was leaving for good. they hadn't seen each other for two weeks, and it was fucking torture for both of them. they had grown so used to always waking up next to each other, cooking together, and doing pretty much everything together, and god did it feel weird to not see each other for longer than a day.

daisy felt like she couldn't breathe when y/n left. she always had to remind herself to breathe in and breathe out. it was as if the girl before her took all the oxygen in the world when she walked out of daisy's front door. right. she remembered bitterly as she felt the fabric of the shirt in her hands.

daisy's front door. daisy's home.

because she refused to move in with her even after three years of secretly seeing each other. she refused to let anyone know about their relationship. not even simone, who is like… them. and daisy understood, she obviously did.

it was dangerous to be one of the world's most famous singers and openly date a woman. openly love a woman. openly say the word lesbian. people would crucify you in the street if they knew you were a homosexual. that was the main reason y/n was scared, she was just a tour photographer who happened to become close with the band and fall in love with daisy on the way. if the world knew she was into women, she would never get another job.

daisy tried to tell her they would be okay, to screw the rest of the world. they loved each other. how could that ever be bad? as far as she knew, love wasn't a bad thing. but maybe she only thought that because she didn't have much experience with it. her parents hated her. men used her. she only has the band, simone, and y/n. had y/n. not anymore.

“daisy!” her name being yelled at her got her out of the trance she was in. “are you going deaf or are you just high as shit?” eddie asked from the microphone.

“she's in recovery, eddie. stop joking about that.” she heard a soft voice she could recognize anywhere snap back at him. “right, sorry.” the bassist said with his hands held up high as a way of showing surrender.

y/n looked at her and they made eye contact for a solid second. daisy gave her a small smile and looked down. “alright, let's get this party started!” warren hollered as daisy put her headphones on to start recording. “okay, the end of love, take one.”

the redhead remembered to breathe as she heard the first notes of the song.

i feel nervous in a way that can't be named.

i dreamt last night of a sign that read, the end of love.

she looked up and saw y/n drumming her fingers against her waist. she obviously knew the song was about her. ever since daisy met the photographer, almost every song she has written has been about her. the singer wrote the end of love the day after y/n walked out of her new york apartment.

it's pitiful, she thinks. even when they're not romantically together anymore, she still writes about her.

and i remember thinking even in my dreaming.

it was a good line for a song.

daisy tried to steady her breathing but when she looked at y/n she felt like she was about to pass out.

breathe in. breathe out.

breathe in. i can't fucking do this.

the flower-named girl placed her headphones down and said a quick “i need some fresh air.” before storming out of the recording booth. daisy walked through god knows how many rooms, until she found an empty one in the back of the building, she sat on the floor and leaned against the door she had just walked through.

you dumb fucking idiot, she thought. now they're all going to think you´re singing about someone in the room, or even worse, that you've relapsed and can't record a damn song. she can't go through this again.

if the band thinking she was in love with billy dunne, when she's not even into men, was bad enough, them seeing her overreact this way is going to make them figure out she has been seeing someone.

there was a minute of silence while she tried to think of an excuse to say when she gets back into the studio, but it was all interrupted by a soft knock coming from the other side of the wooden door she has been leaning against.

“i'm fine, karen. just give me a second.” the blue-eyed girl said while running a hand through her long red hair.

“i'm not karen, but if you want me to go get her, i can do that.” her heart sank as she heard y/n's voice.

“no!” she heard her own voice answer in a quick desperate way. she grimaced at how pathetic she sounded.

“well, is it okay if i come in?”

one beat. two beats. daisy unlocked the door.

the photographer walked into the room and sat on the opposite side of the singer, facing her. “do you want to talk about it?”

“talk about what?”

the girl sighed and leaned her face against the palm of her right hand. “about what just happened. you don't normally walk out of a recording session, daisy. not ever. are you okay?” she asked as she looked straight into daisy's big blue eyes.

the singer stared back and bit her lip as she felt her eyes start to water. “i miss you.”

“daisy-”

“no.” she interrupted. “you say you love me but then decide to break up with me.” she says with a scoff. “without even letting me ask you what i did wrong. without even letting me try and fight for you. for us.” a tear streamed down her right cheek.

it took everything in the girl before her to not wipe it, the way she always did.

“listen, i understand being scared. do you think i'm not frightened of how the boys will react if they ever find out we are the way we are? but i didn't care as long as i had you. i know you have your doubts. but why did we have to hide from everyone? simone would never treat us differently. we both know she's a lesbian. just like you and i.” she pointed a finger at herself and the girl who now wouldn't dare to look her in the eye.

“karen wouldn't either, she's too busy minding her own fucking business to be disgusted by us. even camila wouldn't care, she'd be delighted to know i've never felt an ounce of love for her husband” daisy was fully crying now. god, she loved her girlfriend so much. why wasn't that enough for her?

“i left for that exact reason.”

“what?” she asked.

“you deserve someone who isn't afraid to love you. who isn't afraid of who she is.” y/n continued. “you know, billy and graham saw simone kiss her girlfriend at your birthday party” she said with a sarcastic laugh. “and they didn't give a single shit.” daisy was silent as she listened intently to her ex-girlfriend's voice.

“when simone realized they saw her, she told them they'd been together for over five years. and shit, they truly didn't care. even warren said it wasn't fair simone found a girlfriend way before he met lisa.” y/n played with the rings placed around her fingers to avoid eye contact. “the entire band knows about simone, and they think it's normal.”

daisy's heart was racing, she didn't know if it was excitement for simone, because her best friend was able to love her girlfriend without a care. or if it was happiness, because the rest accepting simone could only mean one thing. if the six don't care about simone and her girlfriend, then that means they won't care about her and y/n.

the photographer was silent for a while, so daisy decided to speak first. “i don't really understand. you left me because you're afraid of them knowing about us. but, you also know they wouldn't care if they find out?” the singer´s eyes scanned her ex girlfriend´s face, trying to find an answer.

“yeah… it's stupid.”

“damn right, it fucking is!” daisy sighed. “i love you. you love me. we can at least tell them and simone about our relationship.”

y/n was the one holding back tears now. “i want to. i truly do.”

“then what's stopping you?” her voice softened at the sight of the girl she loves the most crying in front of her.

“I can't openly love you, not when i can't even say… well, you know what.”

“god, y/n. you didn't tell me you were still struggling with that. i could've helped you.”

“i know you would've, but i didn't want to be a burden.” daisy slowly raised her arm and caressed y/n's cheek in the soft, loving way she always does. “you're not a burden. not ever. not to me.” the flower-named girl tucked the girl's hair behind her ear.

“i love you. i love you so fucking much, i can't breathe when i'm without you.” she continued. “you helped me when i was trying to recover from my addiction. you were there when i got out of rehab. you've helped me stay clean.”

“that was all you, daisy.”

“yeah, but you were next to me the entire time. the least i can do is be next to you, while you learn to accept yourself.” “it took me a while to come to terms with being a lesbian, too.” daisy said as she twirled a piece of y/n's hair around her finger.

“i used to think the only way i could make it into the industry was by not caring about men stealing my music because at least people would hear them. fuck, i forced myself to want them, the same way they wanted me. because that was the closest i thought i'd ever get to being loved.” “but that's not what love is. love is what you and i have.”

y/n placed her hand over daisy's. “i want to be brave, for you.”

“you already are. you just need to be brave for yourself. because you deserve it.”

“thank you, for everything.” y/n gave her a soft small smile. “you don't have to thank me for anything, seeing you smile is good enough for me.”

the two women locked eyes, and they just stared at each other for a small moment. y/n's hands began to shake with desperation, she craved the feeling of daisy against her. and suddenly, she felt a force pulling her towards the redhead girl, daisy placed her hands on both sides of y/n's waist, and instinctively, as if her body was made to be next to her's, y/n placed her hands behind daisy's neck, the same way she has done for the past few years, their bodies were pieces of a puzzle made to be together.

they both leaned into each other, they were so close, they could feel each other's noses rubbing together, daisy smiled at the sensation. “can i-” daisy started “you don't even have to ask.” the girl interrupted, before smashing her lips into the singer's.

their lips locked, the two women having been in the exact same position hundreds of times, but this was different. this kiss was about understanding, about forgiveness, about acceptance, about moving forward. it lasted a few more moments until they were out of breath and had to pull away.

“i love you, daisy jones.” the girl whispered against daisy's lips. “i love you, y/n l/n.” she answered with glossy, vibrant eyes. before getting back into her usual cocky self.

“well, not to spoil my amazing new song, which is going to be a hit, but there's a specific lyric i think you're going to like.” she said, trying to fight back a smile. y/n rolled her eyes at her girlfriend's antics.

“oh yeah? what is it?” daisy cupped y/n's cheeks and stared lovingly into her lover's eyes. “i've always been in love with you. could you tell it from the moment that i met you?” the redhead sang before kissing her beautiful girlfriend again, and again, and again.

daisy still had to finish recording her song, and they still had to explain what took the photographer so long to find her, but luckily, this time y/n wasn't afraid to tell them the truth.

we were reaching in the dark

that summer in new york

and it was so far to fall

but it didn't hurt at all.

#daisy jones imagine #daisy jones x reader #daisy jones and the six x reader #lesbian x reader #daisy jones angst #daisy jones fluff #x reader #fanfiction #daisy jones and the six imagine #daisy jones #daisy jones and the six

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shoshiwrites · 5 months

Text

Band of Brothers Ages: IRL vs. Actors

Did you know that according to a 1947 study, almost half the men who served in WWII were still under age 26 by the end of the war?

What this is : A (very long) post comparing the ages of the actors in Band of Brothers vs. the IRL figures they are portraying.

Background: Did I need to do this? No. Did anyone ask for this? Also no. Did I do it anyway? Yes.

Disclaimers: This is SUPER approximate for the most part. I based IRL ages off of D-Day unless otherwise noted, and actor ages off of January 1, 2000, the year filming took place (the latter is where the most variation will be because I didn't try to figure out what month filming started). I also didn't fact-check birthdays beyond googling. Most are sourced from the Band of Brothers and Military Wikis on fandom.com, Wikipedia, and IMDb.

I broke them up into rough categories, which are, again, approximate. I know I often forget how young the real life people were here, and this was a good reminder of that. I also found it interesting to see which actors were actually younger than their roles!

Check it all out under the cut ⬇️

~10+ years older

Dale Dye (55) as Col. Robert F. Sink (39) (~16 years)

Michael Cudlitz (35) as Denver "Bull" Randleman (23) (~12)

Marc Warren (32) as Albert Blithe (20) (~12)

Rocky Marshall (33) as Earl J. McClung (21) (~12)

Frank John Hughes (32) as William J. Guarnere (21) (~11)

Neal McDonough (33) as Lynn D. (Buck) Compton (22) (~11)

Dexter Fletcher (33) as John W. Martin (22) (~11)

~5+ years older

Simon Schatzberger (32) as Joseph A. Lesniewski (23) (~9)

Richard Speight Jr. (30) Warren H. (Skip) Muck (22) (~8)

Jason O'Mara (30) as Thomas Meehan (22) (~8)

Ron Livingston (32) as Lewis Nixon (25) (~7)

Donnie Wahlberg (30) as C. Carwood Lipton (24) (~6)

Matthew Settle (30) as Ronald C. Speirs (24) (~6)

Nolan Hemmings (28) as Charles E. "Chuck" Grant (22) (~6)

Douglas Spain (25) as Antonio C. Garcia (19) (~6)

George Calil (26) as James H. "Mo" Alley Jr. (21) (~5)

Rick Gomez (27) as George Luz (22) (~5 year)

Scott Grimes (28) as Donald G. Malarkey (23) (~5)

Stephen Graham (26) as Myron "Mike" Ranney (21) (~5)

~less than 5 years older

Shane Taylor (25) as Eugene G. Roe (21) (~4)

Tim Matthews (23) as Alex M. Penkala Jr. (19) (~4)

Matthew Leitch (24) as Floyd M. "Tab" Talbert (20) (~4)

Peter O'Meara (30) as Norman S. Dike Jr. (26) (~4)

Tom Hardy (22) as John A. Janovec (18) (~4)

Rick Warden (28) as Harry F. Welsh (25) (~3)

Kirk Acevedo (28) as Joseph D. Toye (25) (~3)

Eion Bailey (25) as David Kenyon Webster (22) (~3)

Craig Heaney (26) as Roy W. Cobb (29) (~3)

Damian Lewis (28) as Richard D. Winters (26) (~2)

Robin Laing as Edward J. "Babe" Heffron (~2, 21/23)

Ben Caplan (26) as Walter S. "Smokey" Gordon Jr. (24) (~2)

David Schwimmer (32) as Herbert M. Sobel (33) (~1 year)

Michael Fassbender (22) as Burton P. "Pat" Christenson (21) (~1)

Colin Hanks (22) as Lt. Henry Jones (21) (~1) (age around Bastogne)

Bart Ruspoli (23) as Edward J. Tipper (22) (~1)

~Same age

Peter Youngblood Hills as Darrell C. "Shifty" Powers (21)

Mark Huberman as Lester "Les" Hashey (19)

Younger

Lucie Jeanne (23) as Renée Lemaire (30) (age around Bastogne) (~7)

Ross McCall (23) as Joseph D. Liebgott (29) (~6)

Simon Pegg (29) as William S. Evans (~33) (~4)

Philip Barantini (19) as Wayne A. "Skinny" Sisk (22) (~3)

James Madio (24) as Frank J. Perconte (27) (~3)

Stephen McCole (25) as Frederick "Moose" Heyliger (27) (~2)

Matt Hickey (~16) as Patrick S. O'Keefe (18) (~2)

Incomplete/not found

Phil McKee as Maj. Robert L. Strayer (34)

Rene L. Moreno as Joseph Ramirez (30)

Doug Allen as Alton M. More (24)

David Nicolle as Lt. Thomas A. Peacock (24)

Rebecca Okot as Anna (Augusta Chiwy) (24) (age around Bastogne)

Alex Sabga-Brady as Francis J. Mellet (23)

Mark Lawrence as William H. Dukeman Jr. (22)

Nicholas Aaron as Robert E. (Popeye) Wynn (22)

Peter McCabe as Donald B. Hoobler (21)

Marcos D'Cruze as Joseph P. Domingus (not found)

#ty mercurygray for that sweet sweet jstor access #band of brothers #uhh one more disclaimer it's entirely possible that i mistyped stuff here and that i switched ages/etc.#i did try to proofread though!#anyway. i apologize if anyone has already done this.#shoshi.txt #sort of #it's also very possible that i spent too much time online today

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ch3rrysuck3r · 1 year

Note

hiiii !!! could we get some one shots with warren, some angst but fluff (maybe even ✨smut✨) at the end ?? thank you sm !!

ofc darling, here it is: the whole mix!!!!

Warnings: it gets a little heated at the end but it isn't smut!!

Signed, Warren R.

"Oh my god, Warren. You were totally flirting with her."

"What are you taking about?" His words come out exasperated.

"You quite literally signed her boobs!"

"Oh gosh, babe. It's rock 'n' roll"

"Do not bullshit me right now, Rojas."

He scoffs, surprised.

"Did you just call me by my last name?"

"What?" I stop to look at him, confused expression plastered on my face.

"Did you seriously just call me Rojas."

He is smiling. The man is fucking smiling.

"I-" Holding eye contact seems to be too much for me at the moment, seeing I can't even finish my phrase. He shortens the space between us by rapidly making his way to me from the other side of the room.

"No, no, no, I'm still mad at y-" He cuts me off by kissing me. At first, I don't correspond. But almost immediately my mouth moves in sync with his', as if it was it's habit. (It was).

He pulls apart and his forehead meets mine. Staring at me through his eyelashes, I can't help but smile a little due to our proximity, and given how close we are, he doesn't have to look at me to know I'm smiling. He can simply feel it.

"There it is that smile"

I shove him back playfully, but I'm quick to meet my head to his chest as his arms wrap themselves around me and his hands rest on the small of my back.

"I thought you 'didn't get jealous'" He quotes and I can sense the playful smirk in his voice

"I'm not jealous" I answer honestly "I just didn't like it very much, alright? I'm sorry I got mad, I know it wasn't your fault."

"Hey" he says while bringing my head up by holding his curved finger to my chin. "Your boobs are the only ones I actually want to sign"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah"

We smile at each other before kissing again, this time more, deeper, needier.

The tips of his fingers meet the hem of my shirt and we only have to break our kiss for a second before it comes off and then we're back at it. He pulls away again to hold me by the sides of both my shoulders.

His eyes unashamedly study every inch of my body like they didn't know by memory all of it's corners. All of the sudden, he walks away, leaving me standing in the middle of our living room.

It doesn't take much for him to come back, a black marker in hand. I break into a knowing smile. He doesn't say anything, instead just removes the cap and holds me steady by my waist. After a few seconds, my chest is signed and reads "Warren R." in all caps.

"Just...perfect" He's talking to me, but his eyes don't leave his signature.

I pull him by his shirt and bring our lips back together again. My back meets the white walls and I hear Warren mumble a quick "jump"; so I obligue.

"If this is how it gets you feeling jealous, maybe I should sign boobs more often"

"Don't even think about it."

#daisy jones and the six #djats #djats x reader #warren rhodes x reader #warren rojas x reader #warren rhodes #warren rojas

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steddieasitgoes · 4 months

Text

Pulling triple duty with this one.

Written for @steddiemas Day 29: Holiday Parties and @thefreakandthehair Spicy Six Winter Fanworks Challenge. It's also a holiday sequel to my big bang fic Signed, Sealed Delivered, I'm Yours

My prompt for the Winter Fanworks Challenge was: “If I wear that sweater to work, my boss will kill me."

Tags: Established relationships, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Mailman Steve, Platonic Soulmate Steve Harrington & Robin Buckley, Slice of Life

wc: 4003 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

The Brookbridge Post Office holiday party is a tradition that dates back long before Steve joined the ranks. Every year Warren splurges on renting out a private room at a restaurant or banquet hall before passing all the planning off to his assistant of the month. The only rule, as far as Steve’s aware, is that it has to be tied to some charity organization so that he can write the whole thing off later.

This year is no different as the invitation he finds shoved into his work locker has the Toys for Tots logo front and center. What is different is the attire section that requests all guests break out their best holiday sweaters for the occasion.

Steve’s not sure what constitutes a holiday sweater, but he has a closet full of knit red and green ones that’ll surely work. No sweat off his back. Especially since he’s also done with the toy shopping.

The holiday party isn’t Steve’s favorite way to spend a random Saturday in December, but he always sucks it up and goes. Usually drags Robin along with him so they can stand in the corner getting drunk off free drinks while making fun of Tommy and his gang of mini-me’s as they try to hit on everyone’s plus ones.

It’s not the highlight of their holiday season by any means, but it's a tradition they’ve had going for years now. One he’s not sure he wants to break this year even though he could take Eddie as his romantic plus one. Which is exactly what he tells Robin during their Saturday movie marathon.

They’re sprawled out on the couch, Dumpster between them, with Christmas Vacation playing in the background. They’ve seen it enough times to quote the entire thing from memory so neither minds the interruption. It’s not like they ever actually watch movies on their Saturday movie afternoons anyway.

“Are you kidding me, Steve?” Robin snorts, lobbing a pillow at his head. “Of course, you’re taking Eddie!”

“But we always go together.”

“Only because you never have a date!”

“So, what? You’ve been going all these years as my pity plus one?” Steve asks, nudging her with his knee.

“I’m sorry, did you think I liked hanging out in some stuffy banquet hall listening to Hagan and his little groupies try to hit on me?”

“Don’t forget the year Warren hit on you.” Robin retches, startling Dumpster from her slumber. The cat yawns before slowly climbing off the couch and down the hallway in search of somewhere quieter to sleep.

“Take Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

“Don’t you think two months of dating is too soon to be taking him to work events?”

This time it’s Robin’s bony knee that jabs into the meaty flesh of his thigh.“Jesus, Robs,” he hisses, pulling the hem of his shorts up to check for instant bruising.

“You’re dumber than I thought if you really think you and Eddie have only been dating for two months. What about all those months before, huh?” Steve doesn’t say anything, just rolls his eyes in silent protest. She’s not wrong, but she’s not right either. “Besides, it’s not like he hasn’t already met some of the people from work when he goes to the post office.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess you’re right,” Steve sighs. Still, there’s something lingering in the pit of his stomach. A gnawing, unpleasant weight that he can’t shake. He takes a moment to collect his thoughts before he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Tommy’s going to be there, though.”

The same Tommy who has been a Grade-A douchebag since getting removed from Steve’s route and put back on sorter/greeter duty. Steve’s not sure why he doesn’t just quit if he’s so miserable but every day he finds himself on the receiving end of a lackluster death glare.

Also, the same Tommy who gave Eddie the nickname “Mr. Dreamy.” The same Tommy who relentlessly hit on Eddie until he finally got thrown out of his house once and for all.

The same Tommy who has no idea that the guy Steve is seeing, because yes, Tommy knows Steve is seeing someone and teases him about it daily, is said, Mr. Dreamy.

Bringing Eddie into that is a recipe for disaster. One Steve’s not sure he even wants to subject himself to, let alone Eddie.

“On second thought,” Robin says, scrambling to sit up. “Can you take two guests? I will suffer the gross gazes and bad pick-up lines of your male coworkers just so I can see Hagan’s face fall when he realizes you’re dating the guy he was after.”

Steve laughs despite himself, shaking his head. If there’s one thing Robin loves, it’s being a fly on the wall for some good, old-fashioned drama.

📬 🎄 📬

With Robin officially denying his plus-one invitation, Steve sets out to ask Eddie.

It’s not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, he knows this, but something about it also feels like a Big Deal — with a capital B and D. Sure, they’ve branched out from their routine lunch dates — they have a standing Sunday brunch double date with the girls and make a point to go out at least once during the week, plus Steve regularly stops by the shop now, but it's different inviting Eddie to go to a work event with him.

It’s another step in their relationship.

One toward a more permanent future and Steve doesn’t want to fuck it up by scaring Eddie away.

So he spends a week testing the waters. Asks Eddie about his holiday plans over Toasty Treats’ legendary holiday turkey sandwich on Tuesday. Brings up Tommy’s latest fuck up over chili leftovers on Thursday to gage Eddie’s feelings about him (“Jesus H. Christ he really is an idiot,” he laughs, clearly poking fun, but not in the teasing way he does with Steve that always makes his cheeks heat up). During brunch on Sunday, he goads Robin into sharing a fun anecdote from last year's party where one too many cocktails had her and Steve taking over the karaoke machine serenading guests all night with off-key renditions of Christmas carols.

When Steve steals a glance at Eddie he finds him smiling and laughing along with the story.

And just like that the seed is planted.

Steve finally gets the courage to ask the question he’s been dancing around for a week on Tuesday over leftover Chinese takeout.

“Course I’ll be your plus-one, Stevie,” Eddie answers mouthful of Chow-Mien. “I’ll be your plus-one anytime, anywhere, any—”

“Alright, you sap,” Steve laughs, leaning over the table to steal a kiss.

“Does this mean I’m finally going to see the back room where the mail sorter fairies work?”

“Unfortunately not. The party’s at the banquet hall in town.”

“Dammit,” Eddie sighs.

“Oh, and you have to wear a Christmas sweater.”

“Love me a good theme!”

📬 🎄 📬

Turns out, what Steve considers a Christmas sweater is very different from what Eddie considers a Christmas sweater. A fact he’s currently in the midst of learning as he glances around Eddie’s bedroom.

“Stevie, sweetheart, love of my life,” Eddie says, clasping his hands in front of him as he rocks on the balls of his feet. “That is not a Christmas sweater.”

Steve glances down at the knit sweater he’s wearing before fisting the hem and pulling it away from his chest to get a better look. He’s not sure what Eddie’s talking about. It’s totally a Christmas sweater!

“Yeah it is, Eds,” he defends. “It has a reindeer and a tree on it. That’s pretty Christmas.”

Eddie gawks for a moment before scrubbing a hand down his face. Steve knows he only does that when he’s frustrated so he braces for whatever he’s going to say.

“Objectively speaking, yes, it is a Christmas sweater. But it’s also not a Christmas sweater.”

This time it’s Steve who gawks at Eddie. He’s used to Eddie getting worked up over random things, but this is a new one. “Okay Christmas Sweater expert, what is an appropriate Christmas sweater then.”

“I’m glad you asked,” Eddie grins before stalking over to the pile of clothes on his bed. He shuffles through the clothes for a moment, tossing a few shirts to the wayside before he shouts victoriously and turns around clutching a red sweater in his hands. “Now this is a Christmas sweater.”

Steve can’t help the cackle that escapes him the minute his eyes land on the sweater. It’s a red monstrosity with an upside-down snowman sprawled out over the entire thing. A plastic carrot of some sort protrudes off and hanhs low, blending with the tinsel on the hat and two blue ornament balls that also dangle low

“If I wear that sweater to work, my boss will kill me,” Steve says through laughter.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad!”

“Eddie!” Steve squawks, brows knitted together. “It’s literally a dick and balls!”

“Warren is a buzz kill,” Eddie sighs, tossing the sweater aside. Without another word, he reaches for another sweater from the mess on his bed and turns around. “What about this one?”

This one is green with a gingerbread man smiling in the middle. It looks innocent enough except for the fact that the gingerbread has bloodshot eyes and the words “let’s get baked” are stitched in big white letters followed by a marijuana leaf.

“Are you trying to get me fired? Again!”

“Hey,” Eddie scolds playfully. “I didn’t get you fired, I got you demoted. And we agreed it was both our fault. Don’t be putting the blame on me! Besides I’m just sticking with the theme.”

“Baby, the theme is Christmas sweaters not whatever this is,” Steve says waving his hands in the air.

“These are Christmas sweaters.”

“I mean, yeah, they’re technically Christmas sweaters but they’re not appropriate!” Steve laughs. “Where did you even find them?”

“Are you forgetting I work with artists all day? Me and the guys make them.”

“You made these?” Steve asks, snatching the sweater from his hands to get a better look.

Up close it's easier to tell that they’re homemade. The stitches are slightly askew, a missing thread or two here and there. Overall though they’re store-like quality. He didn’t even know Eddie could sew let alone sew an entire inappropriate Christmas sweater. If the tattooing thing doesn’t work out, maybe he and the Hellfire guys should start a clothing line.

“That’s pretty impressive actually.”

“So, does that mean you’ll wear one?”

“To my work party? Absolutely not,” Steve laughs.

“Come on,” Eddie whines. “Nowhere on that invite does it say it has to be appropriate!”

“I’m pretty sure it’s implied! Maybe you can get away with that at the shop's holiday parties, but Brookbridge is full of stuck-up employees. Warren might be sleeping with his assistant but I don’t think he’ll appreciate this,” Steve says, lifting the gingerbread sweater.

“I guess that means I should change then.”

“Wait, you’re wearing one of these right now?” Eddie nods, coaxing another chuckle from Steve. “What does yours look like?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

With eyes shining with mirth and that crooked smile, Steve loves so much, Eddie slowly peels off his leather jacket revealing the Christmas sweater he’s been wearing. It’s hunter-green and looks incredibly soft to the touch. Unfortunately, the words “Well Hung” are stitched in a bright green across the chest. Four baubles are stitched on underneath in various sizes trying their best to make the phrase Christmas-appropriate instead of the innuendo it is.

“Oh my god,” Steve wheezes, doubling over in laughter. It takes him a minute to compose himself and when he does Eddie is standing there beaming with pride. “S’clever and definitely true.” Eddie’s smile grows even wider at that. “But yeah, I think you should change, baby.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Eddie groans.

“Hey, I’m plenty fun,” he says, quickly closing the distance between them. Steve gets his hands on Eddie, wrapping them around his middle and pulling him flush with his chest before searing a kiss to his lips. “But I don’t want to give Tommy any ideas. Don’t think he’d back off if he saw you advertising yourself like this.”

Eddie hums in consideration before reluctantly agreeing. Wiggling out of Steve’s grasp, he yanks the sweater off and tosses it onto the bed with the other rejected sweaters. Then, he sulks over to his closet to search for another sweater. A few minutes pass, nothing but the sounds of plastic hangers clanging against the metal rod filling the room before Eddie turns around with a huff.

“So, turns out I don’t have any appropriate Christmas sweaters.”

Steve laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I have a spare lying around. We’ll just stop by my place before heading over.”

📬 🎄 📬

They get intercepted by Debbie as they’re trying to leave, costing them an extra ten minutes they don’t have to spare. That added with the detour to Steve’s place and the inevitable quickie that follows when they realize Robin isn’t home makes them an hour late to the party.

But it’s not a big deal. Hardly anyone but Betty even realizes they’re late. And the only reason she notices is because she’s smoking outside the door when they get there.

“You clean up nice,” she says like she does every holiday party. Tossing the cigarette to the floor, she snubs it out with the toe of her boots before slowly dragging her eyes up Eddie. “You do too, Eddie, right?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m Eddie. And thank you, ma’am.”

Betty tsks, waving her hand in the air. “None of this ma’am crap. Just Betty is fine. Steve’s told me lots about you. Have you made a decision on that P.O. Box yet?”

Steve has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from snorting. That day doesn’t leave the best taste in his mouth considering how it ended, but it did start out with a lot of promise.

“Oh, uh, I don’t think it’s for me. S’much easier to have my mail delivered to me. Especially when he’s doing it.”

Betty glances at Steve and gives him another slow once over before winking at the both of them. “M’sure it is,” she laughs. “You boys better get in there. Don’t want to miss the fun.”

📬 🎄 📬

The banquet hall is decorated just as it always is. A giant Christmas tree sits in the middle. A handful of tables surround a small dance floor. There’s a buffet of food on one end, the donation table on the other. A small band is set up on stage, serenading the crowd with a mix of Top 40s and holiday hits. No karaoke machine this year much to Eddie’s chagrin.

After a round of drinks, Steve gets to mingling, introducing Eddie to the handful of coworkers he actually likes. The introductions are brief and his co-workers are quick to share embarrassing stories about Steve’s early days on the job with Eddie who listens and laughs along.

Eventually, Warren finds them, his wife draped lovingly on his arm while his assistant throws daggers his way from the bar. Steve puts on his best smile and expertly navigates the small talk, making a point to compliment Warren’s wife and joke about her being out of his league. Warren’s quick to excuse the both of them after that.

“He gives me the creeps,” Eddie shivers, watching as he guides his wife through the sea of people with a hand on the small of her back all the while making eyes with his assistant across the room.

“He’s definitely a douchebag,” Steve agrees.

He takes a sip of his drink as he scans the room. They’ve been here for almost two hours now and he hasn’t spotted Tommy once. Usually, he’s the center of attention at these things. Dancing up a storm and making it a point to flirt with everyone’s plus ones. Maybe he’s already staked his claim on someone and is getting lucky in the bathroom, Steve thinks before shaking the thought from his head. Who is he kidding, Tommy doesn’t have that kind of luck.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s sort of bummed that Tommy hasn’t made his presence known to him yet. Not because he wants to see him, he’d be happy going the rest of his life without having to share the same room with the guy, but because he wants to show Eddie off. And, okay, maybe he also wants to see Tommy’s face fall like Robin wanted to.

📬 🎄 📬

Steve is swaying with Eddie on the dance floor when the devil that is Tommy shithead Hagan finally materializes. He’s beyond tipsy, uneven on his feet, and freckled face flushed redder than Steve’s ever seen it. His eyes are glossy and his lips are curled in a way that sends alarm bells blaring in Steve’s head.

Trouble is afoot.

Afoot? Christ he’s spending too much time with Eddie.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Harrington.” He practically spits before whipping his head to stare at Eddie. “And oh, look what the postman dragged in. Yesterday’s mail!”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, taking a step toward Tommy. He gives Steve a mischievous look before cocking his head to the side as he gives Tommy his full attention. “Do I know you?”

“Oh don’t play coy in front of your little boy toy, darling,” Tommy slurs, reaching out to rest a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

It takes all the strength in Steve’s body not to reach out and yank his arm away. Thankfully, Eddie does it for him, shrugging the offending hand off with more force than necessary.

“Oh come on,” Tommy scoffs, more of a whine than anything else. “Don’t pretend like we didn’t have the best times when Harrington got himself demoted. What’s it like getting my sloppy seconds, Harrington?”

“Watch it, Tommy,” Steve scolds, taking a step closer to Hagan. He’s not going to make a scene, he’s not. But he’s also not going to stand here and let him talk about Eddie like that.

Eddie scoffs, shaking his head. “If I’m anyone’s sloppy seconds I’m Steve’s. And they are very sloppy if you catch my drift.”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He knows he shouldn’t encourage this, but it's hard to be the bigger person when Tommy is standing right there purposely antagonizing him for his own gain. Sue him for wanting to play the game just a little.

“Sorry, Tommy, but Eds here is right,” Steve says, placing a delicate hand on Eddie’s shoulder before squeezing it. “Don’t you remember, I got demoted for hooking up with a “bombshell” in the van? Well, guess what, you’re looking at him.”

“That— that’s not what happened,” Tommy says, directing his words at Steve, not Eddie. “You weren’t with him! Aaron said you were with…”

Steve watches the metaphorical gears turning in Tommy’s head as he trails off. Can tell the moment things start clicking. He really had no clue that the guy Steve had been seeing was Eddie. Steve watches the stunned look spread across his face the same way it spread across his all those months ago when he caught Tommy leaving Eddie’s place. The gross realization that they actually do have the same type after all.

“Why don’t you keep moving Hagan,” Steve says, nodding his head in the opposite direction.

“Nah, I think I’m good right here, actually,” he says, confidence returning.

This guy just doesn’t know when to quit.

“Tommy seriously,” Steve tries again. “Go bother someone else. We’re not interested.”

“Oh, so you’re speaking for him now too?”

“Please,” Eddie scoffs. “You know I’m not interested in you. Never have been and never will be.”

That does it.

Steve sees the moment Tommy’s confident facade breaks. The rosiness of his cheeks grows into an angry red, flooding his body. His eyes, once glossy, are now laser-sharp and squinted. His fingers curl into fists at his side as he readies himself.

Steve’s faster though, stepping in front of Eddie at the same moment Tommy lunges. It would be easy to put an end to this once and for all. Give Tommy the gift of a black eye or bruised rib with one skilled punch that Steve would love to throw. But Tommy shithead Hagan isn’t worth losing his job for, so he reigns in his own anger and instead gets his palms on Tommy’s chest to hold him back.

“Don’t be stupid, Hagan,” Steve says. “Warren’s watching. Do you really want to lose your job for good this time?”

The words are supposed to knock some sense into the guy, calm him down. But it does the opposite, riling him up even more until Steve can practically feel his skin vibrating under his hands. Thankfully, Aaron and the rest of his minions are there in an instant, pulling him away and holding him back.

They try their best to calm him down but Steve can see Tommy’s anger growing by the second. He’s only seen him this angry once before — two months ago when Warren removed him from the route. He doesn’t need to see an encore performance so instead he reaches for Eddie’s hand and drags them away from the impending doom.

📬 🎄 📬

“Part of me still thinks you should have let him have it,” Eddie laughs, shoveling a mouthful of chocolate chip pancakes into his mouth.

“Tommy’s not worth it.”

“I would have been so pissed if I missed you deck him,” Robin says, working her way through her own mountain of pancakes.

“That’s the real reason you didn’t punch him, isn’t it?” Eddie teases.

“Oh yeah,” Steve deadpans, rolling his eyes. “Promised Robin I wouldn’t punch anyone unless she was there to witness it.”

“Does she also have to refrain from punching people,” Chrissy asks.

Robin shakes her head. “Why? Is there someone I need to punch in your honor?”

“Not yet,” Chrissy says, nuzzling into her side. “But if Eddie makes us go to the Birchwood Holiday party in these tonight, you might need to. Debbie’s nephew is in town and he keeps staring at me from the window.”

“Again with the sweaters,” Eddie huffs, letting his fork clatter to the table. “They’re cozy and hilarious. You guys are just boring! Besides, people are going to love my sweater. You’ll see. They’re going to be all the rage one day.”

“Debbie already thinks they are,” Chrissy giggles. “I saw her wearing the one that says “I’m So Good Santa Came Twice” the other day while she was taking out the trash.”

“You gave Debbie one?” Steve shouts, nearly spitting out his orange juice in the process. Robin does spit out her drink, through her nose as usual as she chokes on her own laughter.

“She cornered me and I panicked! I didn’t think she’d wear it!”

“Look on the bright side, Eddie,” Robin says between shrieks of laughter. “With Debbie’s help, every suburban mom in Brookbridge will be walking around in one by next Christmas.”

“It’s a good thing you know a great delivery man,” Steve teases. “Because they’re going to be flying off the shelves.”

“I’ve made a terrible mistake,” he groans.

As the table erupts into another fit of laughter, Steve can’t help but tug Eddie towards him before giving him a soft, syrup-infused kiss. And if he whispers something about feeling inspired by the inappropriate sweater Eddie’s picked out for him to wear later, well, that’s between him and Eddie and whoever’s bedroom they end up in when they leave Murray’s.

Besides, he still owes him for not punching Tommy himself at that holiday party.

And Steve always delivers.

#steddiemas #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #SpicySixWinterFanworksChallenge #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #eddie munson fan fic #eddie fic #steve fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes

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duplicitywrites · 3 months

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Myrtle Warren dies. You are once again too late, too late in all the ways that matter.

Tom doesn’t even care. He stands in your office, straight backed, and his gaze is dismissive, almost flippant.

“You went to Horace?” you demand.

“I attend his Slug Club meetings, you know this.”

“You went to him for help!” you snarl, waving your arms. “You, Tom, up to your neck in dark magic, practically fucking drenched in it, look at you—” The diary wedged under his arm. The water stains lined around the hem of his robes. The utter apathy you see in his eyes. “Did you think at all?” you snap. “Think what might have happened if you had been caught?”

Though he’s half a head shorter than you, he meets your rage with a cold smile.

“Jealous, are we? Father?”

You bristle. “Tom.”

“I bought him a gift,” Tom continues, “with your money. To sweeten him up.” He passes the diary from one hand to the other. So casual a gesture for something so precious. “He does love his crystallized pineapple.”

The barb stings more than it should. “You are horrible,” you say bluntly. “You are a horrible boy, Tom, and I can’t believe I ever thought this would work—”

Tom barks a laugh, just the way you remember it from the chamber as a child, and you are once again a means to an end, brutalized by his path to greatness.

I killed you once, you think furiously. I killed you seven times over, and I could do it again.

“Anything I want,” Tom says, sidling up to you. The scent of dark magic, bitter and cloying, curls around him like a serpent. He has risen to highs that you cannot fathom—the glory of immortality, power, and bloodlust. “Anything at all. Isn’t that what you promised me?”

Next, Tom reaches for his tie, loosening the knot and tugging it down. You are momentarily fixated by the fluid movement of his hands. “You have always been so good at making me happy,” he tells you, dropping the fabric to the floor. “It may be time I return the favour.”

#updates #tomarry #misc #another one-shot in the works #deadbolt

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wooldawn · 3 months

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#ts4 #sims 4 #sims #simblr #hemming legacy #daisy #theo by lou-from-moonwood #warren hemming #rose hemming #lots of sleeping

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kimpossibly · 1 year

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Perhaps a ‘Regret Me’ blurb with Graham Dunne + the song Sex or Robbers by The 1975 😭 🙏

If not no worries at all!

Thx!

So I love this with all my heart?? I saw The 1975 in concert in November and cried my little eyes out, so this is just the epitome of some of my favorite things ever. I would do Robbers, but I simply cannot imagine Graham Dunne committing crimes, so Sex it is! (Yes, I'm aware that that last bit out of context sounds extremely odd. I also do not care.)

tw: slightly sexual content, but nothing graphic at all

Neither of you were quite sure how it started.

One moment you two were in the back of the van, waiting for the others to get back from the venue so you could head back home. You were in the process of sliding off your knee-high boots, which you had regretted wearing halfway through the set when you realized you couldn't feel the bottoms of your feet.

Graham sat beside you, twirling one of Warren's drum sticks between his fingers. He glanced over at you as you threw your boots across the back of the van, slumping down.

Only a few hours ago you had been in the small music hall performing a set. Your boyfriend had been in the front row, beaming at you throughout the entire thing. At least until he saw how you acted around Graham.

As the two guitarists (lead & rhythm) you were bound to have some interaction during the show. He just didn't think that meant the whole show. Anytime you and Graham played at the same time you would stand close to each other, sometimes with you laying your head on his shoulder. One time your faces got so close that your boyfriend wasn't entirely sure that you two hadn't kissed.

So when you bounced backstage to meet him, you weren't entirely surprised at the hardened look he had on his face. The two of you had ended up in a screaming match, heard in part by the entire band as they loaded everything up to get on the road.

Eventually you left, slamming the door to the venue behind you as you crawled into the van, where Graham was already helping pull stuff inside. You mumbled angrily under your breath as you unzipped your boots, throwing them.

You felt Graham's eyes on you and you looked back. He immediately looked away, causing you to giggle and roll your eyes. "Graham," you said, voice low and quiet.

He looked back over. "Yeah?"

And then you pulled him to you by the collar and kissed him hard. Graham, entirely caught off guard, found himself staring at your blurry eyebrows for a moment before he really realized what was going on. And when he did, his eyes fluttered shut, kissing you back.

Your fingers crept to his belt, toying with the hem of his jeans. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, and that was when you pulled away, a devilish grin on your face. Now Graham had a very obvious hard-on, which only made you grin a little wider.

"Think you can wait until we get back to the house?" you asked in a low whisper. Graham just nodded, eyes wide and surprised. You pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his lips and sat back, moving to help Billy haul the last of the guitars into the van.

And as Graham sat there, trying to comprehend what the fuck had just happened, all he could think of was one, single, repeating thought: She's got a boyfriend, anyway...

#daisy jones & the six #daisy jones & the six fanfiction #daisy jones and the six fanfiction #graham dunne #graham dunne x reader

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mercurygray · 7 months

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I am, as I have perhaps mentioned, back on my 18th century bullshit this week while I'm on vacation.

It felt like winter would never end.

There was very little entertainment in a winter camp - daily drill, and make and mend, and then the monotony of keeping warm and keeping fed and keeping busy, all while General Washington up at the house read his letters and marked his maps and planned the spring campaign. Nix had his meetings with the Intelligence committee, of course, but intelligence was hard to come by, some days.

Same, and same, and same again - all the days stamped from the same plate.

Which was why she was so…singular.

They were all just sitting down to lunch after the morning parade when the two riders came through - the first a woman of an age with them, wearing a green habit in a military style that already showed signs of a hard ride at the hem. Behind her, another officer pulled his horse up short, the blue of his uniform marking him a Frenchman. Dick stood up, partially out of habit, studying the pair as they, in turned, studied them.

"You've not seen a cavalry officer come through here? He'd have been in a New York coat, riding a gray."

"No, ma'am."

The young Frenchman said something that made her laugh, and she wheeled her mount around, taking another look at the soldiers around the campfire. Her eyes briefly met Dick's, and, then, sliding to Lew, lit up.

"Captain Nixon, you should have said something! I didn't see you there."

Lew smiled and gave a very courtly bow. "I was in raptures for seeing you. And Monsieur le Marquis," he added, nodding a greeting to the Frenchman.

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Well, thank you for your time!" And then, with a flick of her boots, she was off, the Marquis coming quickly behind her.

It had been like seeing a vision from a different time. "Who was that?"

Lew realized everyone at the fire was looking at him for answers and grinned. "Who, Lafayette?"

The groans were heavily implied. We know there's only one Marquis with the army - but who was she?

Lew preened a little. "Oh, but you're not up at headquarters. You won't have met Miss Warren. She came to winter quarters to keep house for her uncle - he's one of those old Prussians with a name no one can pronounce. She translates for the Frenchmen - and, as you can see, is unmarried and lovelier than May, which might be why everyone on staff is in love with her."

Dick raised an eyebrow, thinking of the lock of baby hair in Lew's writing chest, the letters from Katherine that sometimes went unanswered. "Including you?"

"Me, hah." Lew made a show of frowning at his friend. "I'll remind you I'm married, Captain Winters. No, we have an understanding, Miss Warren and I. I make jokes about the situation and she is allowed to laugh at them. She has an understanding with a fellow from New York. Dutch patroon family - loads of money. They were probably looking for him." He looked at Dick, who was still watching the space where she'd been, and his smile turned almost shifty. "I'll introduce you sometime."

But they had little time for speculations - another rider came through the thicket and pulled up short - an officer in the uniform of the Dragoons, riding a gray horse, his blue jacket and plumed helmet making him look quite the thing in the midst of the muddy spring weather.

"Have any of you chaps seen a woman come through here? Green habit - probably with a Frenchman?"

"Miss Warren, you mean? Came through perhaps ten minutes ago, Captain Havermeyer - went that way." Lew pointed in the opposite direction.

Havermeyer touched a hand to his horse-hair plumed dragoon's helmet. "Many thanks, Nixon," he said, and galloped off exactly where the pair he was searching for was not.

Dick could only stare. "Nix."

Lew looked at his censure and rolled his eyes. "Did I not say he's a terrible bore? And he's awful for her. A decent fellow's got to get a chance in."

---

The woods reminded Gilbert of home.

He was allowed, he thought, to be homesick, even if it was only for a little while. He had no regrets about his decision to come here, even less about his decision to stay, but still - it was lonely, sometimes, to be in a room and not understand all of the jokes the other officers were making.

Joan made him less lonely. He could still remember the meeting with her uncle, sitting in a chair to advise the General, and the mention, in schoolboy French, that his niece spoke the language. After so many gasps at English, she was like a breath of fresh air - able to explain words, military terms - to translate jokes. (Some of them were very dirty jokes. He regretted that, though he knew she didn't. It's better to know, she'd say, her shoulders squared. To be prepared.)

They could ride more, now that the ground was even. A way to get away from the others, to talk in private - to tease, even, if he thought it was warranted. "I think you have a new admirer," he said with a smile, as they walked their horses back to the house. "That tall redhead with Captain Nixon."

Joan scoffed. "Don't say that, Gilbert, I don't need any more of those."

Only if they're the right one, he though to himself. "Perhaps I should steal a handkerchief for him to return."

The look she gave him was pure amusement. "Perhaps I should start giving Ham's laundrymaid lessons in French."

He could only laugh at that. Always your balance, your even things! Perhaps I will. Columbine will speak lovely French.

---

Kurt as a dragoon is a look, guys. If none of you know what an 18th century dragoon's helmet looks like, can I recommend the show TURN? Seth Numrich makes it look very good.

#18th century au #i have written a thing #all the alternate universes #joan warren #1780s girl gang

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hcndhunter · 29 days

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who: open to anyone ! where: train station, near the general store when: harvest / 20th anniversary festival – day one

Warren thumbed his lighter open and close like a nervous dog around carrion meat.

How many times can a man stand to watch morals disintegrate until he too forgets it ever existed? The number is often higher than one might've thought but lower than some would care to admit. For Warren he had not yet forgotten it, but quite often felt as though it would've suited him better if he had. Hell, it'd beat having to watch the train arrive with smoke stacks like fumes from Satan's cigar. But then again, he never was so lucky.

The metal beast came to a smooth stop and in the minutes afterward cattle meandered straight from its iron mouth and into the rolling sun. Was it cruel of him to associate their arrival with that of meat processing? Possibly. But wasn't that exactly what it was? Man changing himself to transform? Warren shifted from one foot to another and watched with little interest as white linen dragged along the filthy ground. Dirt grabbed at the new arrival's hems and dirtied it real nice and pretty. His own attire was coated in soot likely caused by his refusal to take his eyes off the railroad.

Silently he pat himself down and swept what he could off before anyone noticed; wouldn't want anyone thinking he worked at the train station after all.

Despite two years of tenure, Warren never quite put a label on his role in Westworld outside of his official capacity (which he kept hidden from host and guest alike). In fact, he made it a priority to look as unapproachable and as invisible as humanly possible. Still, nothing ever worked the way he'd wanted it to and morals had not yet left him; so when a shiny object spilled out from the depths of an unsuspecting pocket, he was kind enough to scoop it up and present it to them as an offering.

"This here yours? You best be keeping your belongings close to your heart, lest a sticky hand pawns it off somewhere cheap."

#westworld.start #westworld.event #e. harvest festival #no need to match length!

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dynared · 7 months

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So hearing about Warrior Nun not being “saved” per se, but getting a reboot that hems closer to the original Ben Dunn comic (because Netflix has the rights to the series and canceled it) has me wanting to say a lot about Dunn, the pseudo-manga art of the creator of Ninja High School and his contemporaries like Adam Warren and Fred Perry, and in general the feeling the industry has passed them by as we get manga by the truckload here via apps and bookstores.

But I’ll give you the short version of what the original series looked like with this 1994 animated sizzle reel that plays closer to Chrono Crusade (anyone remember that?) than what Netflix made and what got canceled.

youtube

Definitely more male targeted than the show was, that’s for sure.

#warrior nun #warrior nun announcement #Ben Dunn #Youtube

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practically-an-x-man · 7 months

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Bestie I know this is random but I want to know... let's say your OCs are getting married (if they're in a relationship and they want to get married obvs) what are they going to wear? Dresses? Suits? Something in between? Have you put any thought into their clothes?

ooh interesting!! Overall, I haven't really thought about this! I've thought about which characters would decide to get married, of course, but I haven't really thought about the weddings themselves. But hey, I'll give it a go!

(also I should say that I really dislike the convention of white dresses and plain tuxes at weddings, I think it's outdated and boring, so don't expect traditional dresses here lol)

Robin: she'd probably be the most traditional of the bunch, given she was raised Catholic and this takes place in the 80s as well. But I don't think her dress would be pure white, I think she'd have something with a colored hem like this:

Peter, of course, is wearing a silver-toned suit, though I think it would have colored accents that would match Robin's (like his vest would be sunset-colored under his jacket, just a little peek of color to match Robin). Their wedding would be large to accommodate all the friends and family, but it wouldn't be overly elaborate because neither of them have the patience to deal with setting that up. They'd also hire a Deaf minister to ordain them in sign language.

Madison: she and Alex get married late. There's a lot of societal expectation placed on marriage, especially in the 60s-70s, so they decided they'd rather just be life partners without attaching a firmer label to it. They debated a quick wedding when the Vietnam War broke out, in the hopes that it would help Alex avoid the draft, but decided against it (he'd get sent off anyway, and if they're going to get married they're going to to it right). When he gets back, it's a bit of a wake-up call of a sort, and they do get married. It's a courthouse wedding, no fanfare, just Alex's family and maybe a guest or two from the X-Mansion, and no gowns or suits. If Madison's wearing a dress at all, it'll be because Alex's mother insisted on buying her something for the occasion and couldn't be convinced otherwise.

Jasper: they'd get married a few years in, once everything with the witches is resolved. I feel like Jasper would rather wear a suit than a dress, regardless of what gender they felt like the day of the actual wedding. I feel like they'd want something elegant and a little nontraditional, like an embroidered corset vest. I'm thinking something like this, but maybe a different color - purple, maybe?

As far as Kyle, I think he'd make jokes about showing up in a wedding dress, like he went to Prom in a dress (maybe he'd even go so far as to go try one on in a store somewhere and send a pic to Jasper, just to commit to the bit), but I think his actual wedding outfit would be pretty typical. Though I think it would be fun if he and Jasper coordinated, like Kyle's suit was the inverse of Jasper's or something.

Indigo: She and Hux would get married (after all, she still needs that last name lol), but really wouldn't draw any attention to it. I feel like the proposal would be lovely and romantic, but the wedding itself would be little more than a stop by the courthouse for a wedding certificate. It would be so under-the-radar that most of Indigo's friends only find out when they notice the ring or hear her introduce herself with his last name.

Quinn: Nah, they have no interest in a flashy wedding, and she can't technically get married anyway since both she and Billy are legally dead.

Rae: She's definitely getting married, and I think her wedding dress would be subtle. Mostly white, but with hints of silver that somewhat imitate the markings from her mutation. Something like this, but with the embroidery in silver perhaps

Warren would have a similar look, an otherwise-traditional black suit with silver embroidery on the jacket.

Ophelia: I... honestly don't know for her. I can see her going either way, really. Either she'd have a very nice Jewish wedding with her friends and family across the multiverse, or she and Peter are just lifelong partners without ever tying the knot. I feel like she wouldn't really have strong feelings about marriage in general, and she's way too grounded and practical to dream about some fantasy wedding, so it would really depend on how Peter and her family feel about it.

Kestrel: they'd also be in team embroidered-suit! (I just think they're elegant okay) However, I think they'd go for a more truly androgynous type of suit, and definitely something with floral/nature patterns

In case you couldn't tell, I'm a big fan of having the two wedded people coordinate their looks, so I think Warren would be in a dark bronze (or maybe dark green?) suit, and he'd have a vest or pocket square or some other detail embroidered to match Kestrel.

I'm leaving out Katherine and Prometheus because... I mean, Prometheus for obvious reasons, and Katherine's story will go in a different direction than that

#my friends!!!#answered asks #my writing #my ocs #robin cassidy #madison douglas #jasper wilson #oc indigo #oc quinn/aces #rae mckinney #ophelia octavius #oc kestrel

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