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munson-blurbs · 9 months

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

Summary: A disastrous PTA meeting and an unfortunate grocery store encounter have you and Eddie questioning whether or not you deserve each other.

Warnings: a bit of dirty talk (18+ just in case), feelings of unworthiness, Carol Perkins and Billy Hargrove make appearances, mentions of bullying, small allusion to drug use and poverty, arrest, tiny allusion to Eddie's breeding kink

WC: 7.1k

Chapter 13/20

Divider credit to @saradika Special thanks to @girlwiththerubyslippers & @corroded-hellfire for helping with this chapter!

Your Thursday mornings at Hawkins Preschool usually involve a light tap on the door and a blink-and-you-missed-it wave from Eddie; maybe a wink if no one’s looking. Today, he’s stopped by the classroom with a steaming styrofoam cup in hand.

“I thought you only brought me coffee on Mondays,” you laugh appreciatively. You take the still-hot beverage from him, folding back the plastic tab and blowing on it lightly before taking a sip. It’s made just as you like it and warms you from the inside out.

Eddie smiles, crossing his arms over his chest an leaning in closer so his leather-clad shoulder grazes sweater-covered one. “Ah, but the PTA meeting is after school today.” As if you could forget forty minutes of unpaid work that could be spent reading, resting, snuggling up to your thoughtful metalhead boyfriend… “Figured you could use an extra boost of caffeine to help you power through.” He lowers his voice to add, “I’m sorry I won’t be able to make it. But Wayne’ll be there.” He squeezes your hand quickly just as Abby Carver approaches you.

You pull away so fast that you bang your elbow against the side of the desk, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress a yelp. “What can I do for ya, Abby?” you ask, smiling through the throbbing pain.

“Joshua said that he’s taller than me!” she whines, messily swiping at her ruddy tear-stained cheeks. Her dad only dropped her off five minutes ago, and she’s already conjured up a crisis. Unsurprising, but exasperating nonetheless.

You peer over at Joshua Harrington, who is currently constructing a racetrack, unbothered by Abby’s distressed state. Your gaze flits back over to the little girl in front of you. “Honey, he is taller than you,” you gently explain, watching as her bright blue eyes begin to well up again.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t havta say it!” she protests, stamping her sneaker on the speckled tile floor. It’s one that lights up, little red and blue and green twinkles dashing along the side.

You nod, sucking in your lips in a feeble attempt to keep a straight face. “Well, you can just play somewhere else. And we’re gonna get started with circle time in a few minutes.” Time to sing the Good Morning song–again. If the kids didn’t beg for it every day, you would’ve scrapped it months ago, but it keeps them entertained.

Once she scampers off, already zeroing in on a group of girls dressing up some time-battered Barbie dolls, you turn your attention back to Eddie.

“We’re still on for Saturday?” you ask, a subtle reminder of your upcoming date at Enzo’s. It’s a fancier restaurant than either of you are used to, but Eddie had insisted on it.

He nods quickly, scratching at the back of his neck like he does when he’s nervous, though you’re not quite sure what’s on his mind. “Y-Yeah, I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“I can’t wait.”

At 3:15, you and Will trudge into the classroom that’s serving as the meeting venue. It only takes a moment for you to remember that it’s Ms. Marion’s room, and your eyes scan the walls for Harris’s artwork. You find it easily; it’s the best in the class. It’s a drawing based on the saying, ‘March is in like a lion and out like a lamb,’ and each kid drew a picture of the two animals. Harris has meticulously added details to his. He’s drawn a zig-zag line under the lion’s pink nose to represent his aggression and given the lamb a puffy coat of wool, while the other kids just drew smiling lions and a circle to represent their lambs’ bodies. He’s also included a speech bubble hovering above each of their heads; the lion’s says “ROR!!!” and the lamb bleats “BAAA.”

Will’s gaze follows yours, and his lips turn up into a smile when he sees what you’re staring at. “He’s a talented kid,” he remarks. “We gotta have him sign something now so we can say ‘we knew him when.’”

You nod your head in agreement and return his grin. You’ll have to tell Eddie to have Harris swing by your classroom after school tomorrow so Harris can autograph some drawings.

Wayne comes in a few minutes later, taking a seat behind you and Will.

“How’s your day going, Wayne?” You turn around in your chair and greet him. Seeing the older Munson always lifts your spirits. He’s wearing a flannel, checks of olive green and white, over a white t-shirt that proudly proclaims: My Favorite Person Calls Me Grampa.

Wayne gives a little shrug; for him, it’s the equivalent of a beaming smile. “Can’t complain. Didn’t get too much pushback from Harris when I dropped him at the baby-sitter’s.” He explains that Claudia Henderson still has a bunch of the games her son had played with, and Harris loves going through the toy bin and finding something new. “Well, new to him. That stuff’s gotta be nearly twenty years old by now.” He scratches the white-gray whiskers on his cheek and chuckles. “Jeez, ‘m old. I remember buyin’ those kinda games for Eddie when he was a kid.”

More parents and teachers file in and, eventually, the PTA president stands at the front of the classroom and calls the meeting to order. The idle conversation gradually ceases, and Linda Wright presses her lips into a thin smile and smooths nonexistent creases in her khaki slacks.

“Welcome, everyone,” she begins, clasping her hands together in front of her. “Thank you all for being here. We have quite a few items to cover today, so let’s get to it!” She’s far too chipper for your liking, and you wince involuntarily as she excitedly announces the upcoming parent-child talent show. It’s an annual school-hosted fundraiser, and apparently a popular one; there’s a soft roar of discussion before Linda wrinkles her nose in irritation and shushes the group.

“Oh, Ed’s gonna love that,” Wayne leans in and whispers to you. “He’ll probably be more excited than Harris.” He sits up straight when Linda clears her throat and glares in his direction.

The president launches into a tirade about kindergarten readiness strategies, handing out little pamphlets to the parents and guardians. The cover displays an overly-enthusiastic teacher surrounded by a small group of students who are closely attending to a fake lesson.

You hear Wayne grumble under his breath: “What is there to be ready for? It’s kindergarten, Jesus Christ.” and you have to stifle a laugh.

Linda luckily doesn’t hear his lament. “I’m opening up the floor to any questions or concerns.” Now is the time that people typically start gathering their belongings and resume unfinished conversations. It’s precisely what you plan to do until you hear an all-too familiar snide voice from across the room.

“Yes, I have a question.” Carol Perkins stands up. She places her hands on her hips and pulls her lips into a smirk. “What is the school’s policy on parent-teacher relationships? Romantic and…otherwise?” Her gaze sweeps over to you, hovering there for a bit, and you realize with a sense of dread that she’s enjoying this. “Because, to me,” she splays her manicured fingers over the center of her chest, “it just seems completely unprofessional.”

The PTA members start whispering amongst themselves, eyebrows raised in excitement as they try to determine the culprit amongst themselves.

You want to crawl into a hole and die. You can feel Wayne’s eyes on the back of your head, as though he’s silently willing you to remain composed. The only other person who knows of your relationship with Eddie is Will, and you can tell that he’s doing everything in his power not to wrap his arms around you in a hug.

At the very least, the principal is not tolerating the dissolution of the meeting into a gossip session. “Ms. Perkins, we can discuss this at a later time. Privately.” Sue Sinclair’s expression is stoic, unreadable, and you’re not sure whether she’s angry at you or Carol. How would she know it’s me? But logic has no reason with emotion taking center stage, and you’re all too grateful when Chrissy Carver shifts the conversation to organize a ticket sale committee. For the most part, it seems like Carol’s little outburst has been swept under the rug. The meeting concludes as some parents leave while others stick around to schedule playdates, but you remain seated.

A hand on your shoulder startles you from your humiliated stupor, and you look up to see Will looking at you. Sympathy radiates from his eyes.

“It’s okay,” he softly reassures you. “I don’t think anyone knows, and even if they do, who cares? Harris isn’t in your class anymore.”

“I-I know.” But Frankie is, which means I’ll have to face Carol every day, I’ll have to deal with her smarmy expressions and backhanded comments. The blood drains in your face when you think about her spreading rumors to the other parents, their amused stares as they drop their children off to be in your care.

Wayne speaks up as he stands, leaning his gnarled knuckles on the seat of the folding chair for support. “Darlin’, you’ve got nothin’ to worry about. It’s no one’s business who you’re with.” He brushes some dust off of his dungarees and walks with a slight limp towards the door, the remnants of an old injury that flares up in the colder weather. “I gotta go get Harris, but you keep your chin up.” He gives Will a quick head bob that the younger man returns, having developed somewhat of a camaraderie with the elder Munson during the various post-graduation Hellfire sessions held at the trailer.

Carol says nothing as she leaves the room, deep in conversation with Steve Harrington and his wife. If they don’t know about you and Eddie yet, you’re confident that Carol will ensure they do soon. Dread pools in your stomach at the thought of small-town gossip flying, your professionalism being called into question, the possibility of you losing your job. And everyone will know why.

Eddie’s hands tremor with excitement; his whole body buzzes with energy as he grabs the receiver off of the glass countertop. He dials your number–his favorite seven digit combination in the world–and beams the entire time. As soon as he hears your, “hello?”, he’s practically shouting into the phone. Volume control has never been his forte, especially after years of blowing out his eardrums with loud music.

“Babe, guess what?” He drums his left hand fingertips on the counter, a rhythmic pum-pum-pum to keep his breath steady.

“What’s up?”

He notes hesitance in your tone, but chalks it up to exhaustion from your extended workday. “I applied for that manager position? The one I told you about on our first date?” He hears your soft “mhm,” before proceeding. “And I got it! Ash just told me now!” He smiles, pressing the receiver to his ear with his shoulder as he organizes paperwork into a pile. “Eddie Munson, getting the girl and the job? Never in Hawkins’ wildest dreams!”

There’s a pause on your end of the line before you reply. “I’m so proud of you, Eds. No one deserves this more than you do.”

Though there’s still an air of something Eddie can’t quite identify, it’s woven with genuine pride for his accomplishment. His fingertips keep busy as they graze up and down the phone cord. “Now we, uh, really have something to celebrate at Enzo’s.”

Another pause; this one is so long that he wonders if the line disconnected. “Um, about that…” you finally speak up, and Eddie hopes you don’t hear the gigantic sigh of relief that escapes his lips, “maybe we could just do something at my place? Grab takeout, watch a movie or something?”

His relief evaporates almost as quickly as it came, and he puts his weight on his forearms and lowers his voice. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just been a long week.”

It sounds too automatic, too rehearsed to be true. Eddie doesn’t believe you, but he needs to get to Wayne’s and pick up Harris before his uncle leaves for work. “I really wanted to take you out, show you off, y’know?” He clears his throat, scrambling for words. “We can talk more about it later. Try to get some rest, Sweetheart.”

“Mmkay,” you mumble, and Eddie hopes he’s not just imagining the smile in your voice. “I’ll try. Say hi to Harris and Wayne for me.”

He ends the phone call promising that he will, hanging up hesitantly. What happened between this morning and this evening that had you backing out of the date and retreating into your home?

I shouldn’t have tried to hold her hand, he grimaces, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main road towards Forest Hills. That was so stupid; she was at work, and the kids were right there. Way to go, Munson.

Eddie continues to brood about his faux pas all the way until he gets to Wayne’s, slapping a smile on his face as he relays the news about his promotion. The smile becomes less forced the more he talks. He’s suddenly consumed with thoughts of buying a house with a yard, a pool–well, maybe not a pool; he’s not making that much money–but definitely space for Harris to run around and play.

And in this fantasy world he’s created, you’re standing on the front porch, sipping coffee out of a World’s Best Mom mug–possibly the only mug Wayne doesn’t already have nailed to the trailer wall–made just the way you like it. You’re laughing as you watch Harris sprint back and forth across the grass. Eddie imagines it neatly cut, but the reality is that it would probably be more than a bit overgrown.

He’d sneak up behind you, snaking arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, pressing soft kisses onto the back of your neck–

“That’s amazing, Ed!�� Wayne claps a hand on his nephew’s back, drawing him out of his daydream and thrusting him back into reality. He pulls him into a quick hug, not overabundant in affection, but his delight seeps through. “You talk to your girl yet?”

“First person I called.” My girl. The first person I called was my girl. She’s my girl and I’m her man–

“Good.” Wayne responds pensively, smoothing down his unruly mustache whiskers and reaching for his pack of Camels. He shoves them into his side pocket, right on top of the lighter. “She could use some good news after that shitshow of a PTA meeting.”

Eddie’s brows crinkle, pinched together in non-understanding. “What are you talking about?” he asks before calling out his son’s name to bring him from the bedroom. He can hear the bed springs creaking, which can only mean that Harris is jumping on the old mattress. Apparently, breaking his wrist didn’t result in a lesson learned.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” He slams his palm onto the countertop as confusion melts into frustration. Weren’t you past this? Past keeping secrets and masking emotions?

Wayne sighs, weighing his options. Ultimately, his allegiance is to his nephew, so he divulges what happened that afternoon, heart sinking as Eddie’s face falls with each word. “She seemed real shook up,” he concludes the story, digging out the pack of cigarettes. Delivering news that devastates his nephew has him urgently craving a smoke. “I wanted to stay and talk to her, but Claudia had somewhere to be at five.”

Eddie chews on his lower lip, pulling off a bit of dry skin with his front teeth. “Yeah, no, ‘s fine.” He calls Harris out of the bedroom again, patience sufficiently thinned. Of course Carol Perkins would shoot off her big mouth about your personal life. It’s not like she had anything better to do. None of that is surprising.

What worries Eddie is why you didn’t tell him about it. Were you embarrassed that people knew you were together? Is that why you didn’t want to be seen at Enzo’s with him? Would you agree to a restaurant far outside the bounds of Hawkins, or was this shame rooted deeper than small-town gossip?

Wayne can sense his anxiety, and he scrambles to dam up Eddie’s flooding thoughts as he fumbles to put the cigarette between his lips. “It’s pretty damn obvious that you two care for each other. Dare I say, you lo—”

“Wayne!”

“Fine, fine,” Wayne chuckles and grabs his lunch pack. The ceasing of the bed springs indicates that Harris has stopped jumping, and Eddie can hear toy cars clattering into a bag. “But you should just talk to her. Make sure she’s okay.” He lowers his voice as Harris finally emerges. “I know it ain’t been easy to hear rumors your whole life, but this is new to her. Cut her a little slack.”

Eddie looks around the trailer at what was his first real home. He’d bounced from place to place with his parents, dodging angry landlords and their threats of eviction. From a young age, he’d learned to dread the end of the month, knowing that conflict was inevitable. Screaming voices, accusations of hiding money, when anyone with working eyes could see that they’d all but stuffed it in a pipe and smoked it. There was no love; only survival. Wayne was never the cookies and milk, family dinner, Leave it to Beaver type, but he offered Eddie something he’d never had before: safety.

Now, Eddie scoops Harris into his arms and follows Wayne out of the trailer as he locks up. There’s not too much of great value; possibly just the TV, but even that’s on the fritz. And unless a thief had a hankering for hokey mugs and baseball caps, they’d probably leave without taking a thing. “Thanks, Old Man.”

“‘S what I’m here for,” Wayne says, pressing a kiss to Harris’s mop of curls. He pauses, and then does something he hasn’t done in years: he kisses the top of Eddie’s head, too. “Not just a pretty face, y’know.”

On Saturday evening, Eddie finds himself at Bradley’s Big Buy, scouring the aisles until he locates the small refrigerator holding various flower bouquets. The chill hits him in the chest as he opens the door, crouching down to get a better look at the offerings through their tissue-paper wraps. He’s determined to take you to Enzo’s, and he’d hoping this small gesture will show you that he can be the man you deserve.

He finds a bouquet of pink peonies and grabs them from the display case, clutching them proudly. They’re delicate and beautiful, just like you. He raises them up, the petals tickling his nose when he inhales the fresh scent, when he overhears Billy Hargrove speaking in a hushed tone:

“Thought you were stopping by after that parent meeting thing.”

“My idiot husband came home early,” a woman–Carol Perkins, Eddie realizes–punctuates her lament with an irritated sigh. “But speaking of that meeting–I’ve been meaning to tell you: guess who’s also hooking up?” She doesn’t wait for him to answer before divulging the gossip, “Frankie’s teacher and Eddie Munson.”

“The teacher and the Freak? No way.” He sticks his tongue in his cheek and chuckles maliciously. “Didn’t know she was down for that kind of stuff.”

“Keep it in your pants,” Carol huffs, as though she’s not stepping out on her own husband. “But I’m serious! He brings her coffee and leaves her stupid love notes.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes together as he cringes. Billy’s second round of mean laughter transports him back to the time the jock grabbed his brand-new D20 off of the lunch table and used his basketball skills to chuck it into a far-off trash can. The ruby red die sunk into the mountain of discarded lumps resembling mashed potatoes and half-eaten meatloaf, forcing Eddie to trek across the cafeteria and fish it out of the pile of old food. “Love notes? What, is he in high school or something?”

Carol snickers. “Guess he’s making up for all the times he didn’t bother, since he knew no girl in this town would go for him.”

“Looks like he had to go for an import,” Billy jokes, drawing a hideous cackle from his friend. Eddie can practically hear the man’s ego inflating at the way Carol fawns over him.

“And a desperate one at that,” she snorts. “I mean, can you imagine lowering your standards enough to be with Eddie Munson?”

“Let’s hope she comes to her senses eventually,” he agrees. “So, is your husband home now…?”

All Eddie can think is to run, to get the hell out of there before anyone spots him and notices the pink tinging his cheeks and the tears welling in his eyes. He’s so focused on leaving and getting past the two bullies that he forgets about the flowers in his hand, until an infuriated voice calls after him.

“Hey! Get back here!” The manager rolls his eyes when he recognizes the culprit. “Eddie Munson. Of course. I should’ve known that shoplifting isn't too juvenile a crime for you.”

Eddie can hear Billy and Carol poorly stifling their amusement at his misfortune. He struggles to find the proper words to explain himself as his entire body is engulfed in the flames of embarrassment, burning him from the inside out. “No…I didn’t mean…it was an accident…”

The manager shakes his head with a biting laugh. He’s a graying man who should have been retired fifteen years ago when Eddie was actually shoplifting. The liver-spotted creases around his eyes are particularly visible when he sneers, “Heard that one before. Prob’ly from you.”

Anger burns in Eddie’s throat, but he swallows it. “Look, let me just pay for these, and I’ll get outta here.” He starts to fumble for his wallet, but the old man shakes his head.

“Nice try. I let you off easy too many times when you were a kid, and look where it got ya.” His cold hand clasps Eddie’s bicep as tightly as his feebleness allows. “I’m calling the sheriff. He can decide what to do with you.”

“Shit-shit-shit,” Eddie mumbles, yanking himself from the man’s grip. “Y’don’t have to hold me; I’m not gonna run away.”

To his surprise, the manager lets him go, though it’s likely due to his advanced age rather than trusting Eddie to do the right thing.

He’s taken to the back room, anxiously tapping his foot against the floor and biting his thumbnail. A quick glance at his watch tells him that he’s supposed to pick you up in 15 minutes. He breathes out a long sigh, scanning the bulletin board hastily fastened to the wall with a lone flyer advertising medical benefit sign-up. Upon closer inspection, he reads that it’s for the 1990 fiscal year, and he can’t help but wonder if that’s the last time the stodgy old Bradley ever offered insurance to his overworked, underpaid employees.

He says a silent prayer to whatever gods are listening that Hopper is the one who answers the call. The chief will give him the benefit of the doubt and probably tear the old fart a new one for wasting his time.

Purse, keys, lipstick, condoms.

You have everything you need for your date, save for one minor detail–Eddie.

You’d expected him to stop by your classroom yesterday to say good morning like he normally does, but he didn’t show. He would’ve called you if Harris was staying home sick; a brief peek out your window during recess confirmed that the littlest Munson was present. He ran around the playground with one of his friends from the birthday party, blissfully unaware of the turmoil churning within you.

Eddie definitely heard what happened at the meeting, you realize miserably, and he doesn’t want to deal with the backlash he’ll get from dating his kid’s former teacher. From anxiety blooms visions of the convoluted game of telephone perpetuated by Carol, the story getting more absurd with each retelling.

At 7:30, Eddie still hasn’t shown. He’s not exactly Mr. Punctuality, but thirty minutes is pushing it, even for him. His tardiness does nothing to ameliorate your fears. This was clearly too much for him—you were too much for him.

You’re about to wipe the makeup off of your face and change into your coziest pair of pajamas when the phone rings, startling you slightly.

“H-Hello?”

“This is a collect call from the Hawkins County Jail. Do you accept the charges?” an automated voice bleats, too chipper for the circumstances it’s reporting.

You’re caught off-guard by the question and the tone, and you choke out a strangled, “yes” and the line rings twice.

“Sweetheart? You there?” Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Relief floods your body until you remember where he’s calling from.

“Y-Yeah, I’m here,” you say, and it’s only when your fingers start to cramp that you recognize how tightly you’re gripping the receiver. “Why are you in–”

He sighs into the phone, and static briefly clouds his voice. “Long story,” he mumbles. “Can you just come and get me? There’s, uh, no bail or anything.”

“I’ll be right there.” You waste no time in grabbing your keys off of their hook, nearly forgetting to shove your feet into shoes in your scramble out the door. You’re ashamed to admit that for a millisecond, you consider the possibility that he’s been busted for dealing, but you shake it off lest it further infiltrate your psyche.

You pull up to the jail exactly twenty-eight minutes later, the fastest you can get there without flying down side streets; the irony of being pulled over for speeding on your way to the police station was not lost on you. Flinging the car into park and killing the engine, you fast-walk through the entrance and hope your nervousness is hidden by the air of confidence you’re faking.

“I’m here to pick up Eddie—er, Edward Munson?” His legal name is clunky on your tongue, like it doesn’t quite belong to him.

The officer behind the desk wears a name badge that reads “P. Callahan.” He puts down his copy of the Hawkins Post and presses his lips into a thin line as he reaches for the walkie attached to his shirt pocket.

“Hop, is Munson ready to be released?” Released. Like a wild animal who needs to be kept away from the general public for their own safety.

The officer on the other end—Chief Hopper, you presume—confirms that Eddie is good to go, and a door opens shortly after that. Eddie trudges out, shame and frustration marring his beautiful face.

You sign whatever paperwork is required before silently taking Eddie’s hand and leading him to the car. He holds it tight, a shiver of a tremor rocking through it.

“Babe, what happened?” you ask once you’re safely outside, away from where the officers can hear you.

Eddie lets go of your hand to throw his arm around you dramatically, leaning with his whole body weight. The sudden force of it has you stumbling, but he catches your fall.

“It’s awful being on the inside,” he whines, trying to lay on an exaggerated pout, but his smile pokes through. “You’ve made me too soft for prison, baby. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you and almost got shanked.”

His joke subtly informs you that he’s not ready to actually discuss it yet, and so you roll your eyes and play along for now. “Poor thing. Locked up for a whole forty minutes.”

“It was more like forty-five,” he protests, “and every second counts when it’s spent missing my girl.”

“You’re so full of it, Munson.” My girl. If he never calls you anything else but his girl for the rest of your lives, you wouldn’t complain.

He wraps his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you in so your back is pressed against his chest. “Full of longing and devotion!”

“Sshh!” you chastise him lightly through your giggling. “Get in the car, crazy man.”

“Crazy ‘bout you!” Eddie says, booping your nose. As soon as your fingers wrap around the gearshift, he’s resting his hand atop yours. It trembles slightly.

Tell me what happened. Don’t keep any more secrets from me. I won’t judge you or leave you. I’m your girl, remember?

It takes a few blocks before you finally work up the courage to ask, “Is everything okay?” It’s a stupid question; you don’t get arrested if everything’s okay, but the alternative is a more straightforward, Why the hell did I have to pick you up from jail?, so you acquiesce.

“‘M good.” He gives your hand another tiny squeeze and attempts a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

You sigh, poorly hiding your impatience for answers you need to know. “Can we talk about what happened?”

His slow release of breath is in sync with your foot pressing on the brake pedal as you approach a stop sign. “Not a big deal. Just a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding that led to you getting arrested?” Stop hiding. Stop pretending. Stop acting like this is fine when it clearly isn’t. Stop making me feel like you don’t trust me. The words get caught behind clenched teeth, threatening to ooze through the gaps.

“Yup.” He leans back in his seat and closes his eyes as though giving a sufficient response to end the conversation.

You drive another few minutes before you spot the sign for Lovers Lake in the distance. There’s only one surefire way to calm his nerves; whatever it is he’s keeping from you, there’s a reason he hasn’t worked up the courage to say it.

Eddie sits up and peers out the window in confusion when you veer to the exit. “Where are we—”

“You’ll see.”

Parking in a spot secluded by trees and the dark of night, you turn to him and stroke his cheek with your thumb. “Can I make my man feel good?” you coo, taking his earlobe between your teeth and tugging lightly. You can feel the small bump where his piercings used to be.

“Shit, baby,” he breathily groans, adjusting the seat so you have ample space to straddle his lap. His hands fly to his belt buckle, undoing it and pulling the leather strip from its loops. Though his pants aren’t as tight around him now, you can still see the outline of his now half-hard cock beginning to press against his fly. “‘S exactly what I need.”

But it isn’t solely the act of sex that he needs, although it would be a farce to imply that he didn’t crave the feeling of you wrapped around him. It was the public nature of it; the way that anyone could walk by and see you on top of him. Could see you choosing him. The teacher choosing the Freak.

You roll your hips, denim-on-denim creating a delicious friction that draws moans from both you and Eddie. Your lips chastely graze his neck, trailing kisses upwards until you reach the prickly stubble along his jawline.

Eddie’s hands grab your ass, claiming it as his. “Feels—mmf—feels good,” he grunts, letting out a soft chuckle when he adds, “gonna make me cream my jeans if you keep grinding on me like that.”

“S’okay,” you shrug, maintaining your tempo. You press your lips to his and he whines into your mouth. “Just wanna ease your mind tonight, Eds.”

“Yeah, but the face you make when you cum? Christ, babe. Makes it even better for me.” He scoots you off of him for a moment, laughing again when he sees your lower lip jut out. “Let me just grab a condom, you needy little thing.”

You bury your head in the crook of his neck and begin sucking on its supple skin as he fumbles for his wallet. “Fine, fine,” you grumble, a teasing lilt in your tone. “The last thing we need is for people seeing that you knocked me up.”

Eddie freezes beneath you, his wallet falling to the weather-mat with a thud. “Wh…what?” His voice is below a whisper, volume compressed by emotion.

“We’ve only been together, like, a month.” It’s too obvious a point to confuse him. There’s no way he really wants a kid with you right now. “We can’t have a baby—”

Eddie vehemently shakes his head, effectively cutting you off. “But that’s not what you said.” You see hurt in his eyes as you try to piece together the puzzle. The fact that you can’t immediately identify the source adds another element of frustration for both of you. “You said that we can’t have people seeing that I knocked you up. Why…why wouldn’t you want people knowing that I…?”

The imagined swell of your belly that he’d hoped you proudly show off, mindlessly caressing it as you walk hand-in-hand with him, is now covered with layers of clothing, even in summer’s heat. You’re tugging a cardigan closed, determined not to let anyone see the shame you’re carrying along with Eddie Munson’s child.

“I just figured you wouldn’t want people talking about you,” you manage, thinking of the rumor that had spread after Harris’s injury. You bring yourself back to the driver’s seat, and it takes another moment before something else dawns on you. “You wouldn’t be upset by people knowing? I mean, not that we’d, y’know, have a kid right now…because you already have one, and this is all so new…” You clamp your lips together to shut yourself up, having already blabbered on for too long.

Eddie shakes his head, tousling his frizzy curls. “Why would I be upset? You’re my girl.” Worry ripples through him, evident through his expression. His doe eyes grow even wider, and he spins his rings around his fingers. One slips and bounces off of the passenger seat, but he doesn’t move to retrieve it. “You still want to be my girl, right?”

“I still want to be your girl,” you confirm, watching his body decompress with relief. “I just don’t want to make things even worse than they are. I mean, you can’t even tell me why you were in jail tonight. That’s a pretty big deal, Eds.” There’s a lump in your throat as you force out your feelings. You hate confronting people, hate drawing information from an unwilling party. But Eddie is your boyfriend, and this is serious. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he mutters, keeping his head on the headrest and eyes trained on in front of him; his unwillingness to look at you serves as an act of defiance. “I had to hear about the PTA meeting from Wayne.”

The contents of your stomach curdle like milk in the sun. “You’d just told me about your promotion,” you stumble, unable to find footing in your meek protest, “I didn’t want to—”

“So, yesterday? Or today?” he pushes, a tango of anger and hurt dancing in his darkened pupils. “You could’ve called me.”

You could have; you’d certainly considered it more than once, but you didn’t want to bother him. It seemed like such an asinine complaint: Oh, Eddie, a grown adult bullied me, another grown adult, at the PTA meeting. Did I stand up for myself? Nope. Just sat there and tried not to sob like one of the kids I teach. “I thought if you knew what people were saying, you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore. You’d think I was too much of a burden.”

“You?” Eddie gawps, nearly choking on the word. “You think that you’re the burden? That you’re the reason why people are talking about this?” People. Not just Carol. The information slips from his lips, but he doesn’t catch it. “Nah, Sweetheart. In the equation of ‘Teacher’ plus ‘Freak,’ you’re hardly the problematic variable.”

“‘Teacher plus Freak?’”

“Teacher,” he says slowly, pointing to you, “Freak.” He brings his forefinger to his own chest. “I’m kinda used to it; just sucks when it affects other people.” He looks at you through his soft brown eyes. “People I care about.”

You’re unsure how to respond, so you say nothing. You vaguely recall Jess telling you about his high school nickname, but you had no idea it had stuck after all these years.

Eddie sighs, shifting his position to get slightly more comfortable. “Tonight, I was at the store getting some flowers for you. And, um, I heard Carol and Billy Hargrove talking about how you had to be desperate to be with me. That you’d realize you’re too good for me and leave.” His teeth dig into his bottom lip and he lowers his head. You watch a tear slide down his cheek, and he sucks in a messy breath as he tries to control the dam of emotions threatening to burst.

“Too good for you?” The notion is almost comical, and you have to hold back an incredulous laugh. “Too good for the man who rescued Grandma after she locked herself in her room? Who came to her funeral? Who gave me another chance after I made an ass out of myself?” You use your pointer and middle fingers to tilt his chin upwards until his gaze meets yours. “Too good for the man who would do anything for his son?”

“No,” Eddie shoots back, “too good for the guy who grew up being taunted because he played Dungeons & Dragons instead of basketball. The guy who abandoned his pregnant girlfriend to go on tour. Who treated you like shit just to avoid getting close to you. Who…who got arrested for accidentally taking flowers from Bradley’s because he’d stolen from them so much that no one believed him when he said it wasn’t on purpose.” He recalls swiping candy bars, jars of peanut butter, and the occasional six-pack of Pabst during his rebellious teenage years. After he’d schlepped back to Hawkins, proverbial tail tucked between his legs, there was more than one occasion where he’d ripped diapers from their boxes and tucked them into his jacket pocket, walking as casually as he could until he was a safe enough distance to exhale and run.

You take a sharp breath in. “That’s what happened tonight?”

“Yeah,” he says; the admission is a sack of bricks being lifted from his chest. “Those schmucks got in my head, and I walked out the store with the flowers like a fuckin’ idiot.” He replays the scene in his head, inwardly cringing at his desperation to flee the premises and inadvertently drawing everyone’s attention to him. He starts to laugh, but anger, sadness, and relief all brew together and the dam bursts completely. One tear multiples to two, four, eight, until he’s simultaneously choking on sobs and laughter, the overlapping emotions wreaking havoc on his nervous system.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry,” he manages through another half-laugh half-sob. He swipes at his cheeks with open palms, and you reach for the travel box of Kleenex you keep in the glove compartment and hand him a tissue. “Thanks.”

“You don’t ever need to apologize to me for crying,” you murmur, barely audible as you press a kiss into his mess of curls just behind his left ear. “I want–I need you to be able to show me what you’re feeling.” Eddie blows his nose, loud and honking, and your lips turn up into a small smile. “Why do we let them get to us?” you wonder aloud, a question more for you than for him.

“I was thinking about that,” Eddie muses, stuffing the used tissue into his jacket pocket. He’ll try and remember to toss it later, but part of him knows he’ll find it there tomorrow. “Like, I didn’t give a damn what they said about me back in high school, but now, as an adult, I do?” He takes a deep breath through his mouth. “And I realized…it’s because I never cared about what they thought of me. Not really. But, fuck, I care about what you think of me.” He swallows before stroking your cheek. “I want to be enough for you.”

You kiss the tip of his nose, letting your lips linger there longer than necessary to ensure the feeling of belonging becomes entrenched in his pores. “You’re enough, Eddie. You’ve always been enough.” Your hands find his, and you lace your fingers together. “I have an idea. Why don’t we grab some takeout, maybe pick up a bottle of wine, and bring it back to my place.” You immediately worry that you’ve proven his point of not wanting to be seen with him, so you quickly backtrack. “We can still go out to dinner; I just figured…after the night you had…”

He silences you with a kiss of his own, nose nudging the side of yours. “I’d love that.” Before you can start the car again, he says, “what Carol said at the meeting…did it really make you think I wouldn’t want to be with you?”

You nod solemnly, breaking his heart all over again. “You already have so much on your plate. I didn’t want to be another problem to deal with.”

Eddie’s expression hardens, but his frustration isn’t directed towards you. It’s for anyone who has ever made you feel like loving you is a chore. He does the only thing he can think of doing: he takes your face in his hands, fingers tucked behind the smooth skin of your ears, and peppers your face in a flurry of kisses.

“Eddie!” you cry out through a fit of giggles. Your eyes squeeze together as his lips tickle your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips, your chin.

He only pulls away to take a breath, and when he does, he’s smiling through shiny eyes as he continues holding your face. “You are not a problem. Never.” He pauses, collecting his thoughts. “We make each other happy. And if anyone tries to fuck with that, we’ll just…sic Harris on them.”

The gray clouds that were scattered across your brain dissipate at the mere idea of the boy charging at Billy and Carol like a miniature rhinoceros. Insecurity still hovers over you, waiting for the perfect blend of sadness and vulnerability to strike, but it’s not quite as heavy as it was before.

You aren’t too much for Eddie, and Eddie is enough for you.

And you’re everything to each other.

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beforeimdeceased · 5 months

Note

I’m actually in LOVE with crybaby!!! It’s so good😫😫😫

CRYBABY! - (E.W) PT8, FINAL PART!

pairing: mean/cruel ellie x sensitive/emotional reader.

synopsis: you weren’t you anymore.

a/n: it’s so over…thank you all for the love you’ve shown crybaby! i’m happy to say i’m actually proud of something i’ve written, for the first time in a long time. thank you for reading and for all your comments and support! tags: @skylerwhitwyo

you’re a crisis of my faith

masterlist.

you weren’t you anymore. you weren’t you when abby opened the door to find you and ellie tangled together in an illicit affair. you weren’t you when you looked into her eyes, saw the pain and agony, and asked her if she didn’t mind closing the door. that you were busy doing something.

you weren’t you because you didn’t chase after her when she left. because you didn’t apologize, you just went on as you were. forgetting. you went on forgetting all the way home in her car. melting the pain away, filling the silence with meaningless conversation she was too upset to engage in. knuckles white while she gripped the steering wheel.

you’re not yourself.

at first it was fun to let go with ellie. she liked that you didn’t care anymore. that you could joke around with each other. that she didn’t have to walk on eggshells with you. or atleast, that’s how she felt. until she was missing you on tour one night.

alone in a bar, waiting for dina and jesse, she came across someone that looked as doe eyed as you used to be. her heart started to sink when she skipped over.

another bar, years ago. when you’d caught her after another show in which she’d made a mistake. you came to her with flowers from a fan and a note. “hey ellie this is—“

“fuck i’m such a fucking idiot.” she blurts. you sigh, anticipating a string of curses and insults, but she sees the note and the flowers. “what’s this?”

“it’s a note from a fan, she didn’t get to catch you before you ran off.”

she holds her hand out and you place the piece of paper in it. standing as you hold the flowers. watching her read it.

this is the first concert i’ve been to in a while and i just want to say thank you so much. i struggle a lot with social anxiety and big crowds and stuff but i really wanted to see you. i’ve been a fan since i found your guy’s cover of take on me on soundcloud and it struck a deep chord within me. you’re amazing, you know that, but i just wanted to tell you that. just in case you forget.

— your biggest fan

you hand her the flowers, pretending not to see her tears. pretending not to feel teary eyed yourself. because you’d never seen her sad cry. you’ve seen her angry cry plenty of times, but never fix her face into a frown and let the strains of tears overflow. you look away as sadness fills the space between you.

“you’re ellie williams right?” the doe eyed girl brings her back to the present. she nods. “in the flesh.”

it only took a couple drinks and ellie’s charms to lure her away from the crowded area. nestled in the corner of the bar, ellie latching her mouth onto the girls neck. imagining your body in place of hers. pretending her moans were yours. wishing that she was you.

she’d felt dirty after she finished, a feeling that was entirely new to her. you both weren’t obligated to only be with each other after that night in the bathroom, but she couldn’t get you out of her mind. maybe it was because the girl reminded her of you? then she remembered that you weren’t like that anymore. that you had completely changed.

when tour ended and the group returned home, you took it upon yourself to throw a party. the old you would have gone for a small get together at your house, with the three of them and donuts, but the new you was leaning towards some club soirée.

you were excited to show everyone more of the new you. a new style to match your new personality. a new way of living to replace your old one. completely killing the girl you’d been before.

you met them at dina and jesse’s place, ensuring you’d be there the second they got off the tour bus. excitedly rushing over to give them a hug, and ellie an awkward handshake. they look you up and down, taking in your changed appearance with concern. “new clothes?” jesse speaks up.

“new me.” you shrug, helping them carry their bags up.

when everything is settled in, they all grab a seat on the couch. you slump into their loveseat, sighing. “so there’s this party...”

dina shakes her head. “no no absolutely not. i love you, but god we’re exhausted. no party tonight.”

“it’s tomorrow. it’s your welcome back party.” the corner of your mouth twitches. “i want to sleep for atleast a week.” dina huffs. “i need to go shower right now actually.” she gets up, placing a kiss on your forehead when she passes by. jesse does the same, following behind her.

you don’t take offense to it. this might’ve hurt you a little bit in the past, feeling stupid for planning a party when it’d make sense that they want to rest. now, you didn’t care. you could party by yourself. you could party with ellie.

you look over at her, and she looks like a wounded stray. like she’s guilty of something she didn’t do. you get up and join her in place of the lovebirds. a wide smile on your face. “are you gonna come to the party?”

she breathes. “maybe. i don’t know yet.”

it’s silent for a beat. you pull out your phone and she remembers the day she took it. the agony in your voice when you were asking for it back. the day she made you cry. she shakes away the thought.

“how about we play a game?”

the peace you were experiencing in the moment felt foreign. it’s been years since you had a chance to have quality time with ellie. without her ruining it, ofcourse. it was almost like those first few weeks back when you met. playing all the board games lodged in the bookshelf of jesse’s parent’s place. before him and dina had moved in together.

these were those very same games. monopoly, sorry, connect four, and more. you settled on connect floor, crisscrossing your legs on the floor. she joins you, getting comfortable.

“i’ll keep score!” you offer, going to your phone’s notes. before you can do much about it, you realize that it’s shutting off because the battery is low. you lodge it into your back pocket and shrug, grabbing an empty envelope off of the couples counter. “my phones dead, i’ll just write it.”

then you’re making a t chart, and ellie feels as if all the air is being kicked out of her lungs. your handwriting is the same as the one that was on that letter.

but that can’t be true, right? this is the same fan who’s been writing her for years. this is handwriting that’s been on signs held up at shows. the handwriting on a small cluster of loyal groupie’s handmade tshirts.

but surely she’d have noticed this before. you’d written in front of her before, right? memories were fuzzily being put back together in the moment. your unfiltered and unconditional love for her. your kindness that you’d extended even when she was mean to you. even when she was cruel.

even when you’d had enough of the tear filled nights and decided you needed time away. you still asked how ellie was, she could hear it on the other side of the fucking phone. when you were talking to dina and jesse. when you were communicating love through them to her.

you called all those rehab centers to get her help, that’s how jesse had found one so fast. you left her meds on the table for her the next morning, not dina. it was your voice telling her she’d had enough. it was you, being brave enough to take her verbal lashings because you knew if she didn’t take it out on you, she would take it out on herself.

it was you, it was always you. she was remembering now.

“ellie?”

you look away from the paper to find her crying. crying because the you that was always there, had slipped between her nimble fingers. had melted into the cracks of hatred. she was crying because she realized why she was feeling out of sorts. she hadn’t gotten a letter this week.

a letter from—well, you.

she wanted to yell at you. to scream at you. to call you stupid for staying around when you know how she is. she wanted to curse herself for getting you to let your guard down with a fake apology, and fucking it up all over again. for pushing you past your breaking point.

“i don’t wanna play anymore.” she felt disgusting. she felt like she was going to be sick. “ellie what’s the matter—“

she’s hyperventilating now, watching as you slowly slide towards her. extending your arms while you try to catch her in a hug. she thought back to the days she called you useless. called you pathetic. called you a crybaby.

you hold her, and it’s the first time she’s ever truly felt held. the first time she’s in your arms and she’s sober. the first time she’s in your arms and she feels sorry. truly, terribly sorry.

you pull her in closer to you, turning her onto her side so you can rub your thumb across her cheek. wiping some of her tears away. she begins to cry even harder, but you don’t push her away. even when your pants are soaked and snotty. you let her lay there, and cry into you.

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imagine--if · 6 months

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hey! i hope your doing well, i would love to see anything fluffy for mike (headcanons, blurbs, whatever you feel like suits it most!) - he deserves the whole world and sm more to me 😭

A/N: I get youuuu, hope you enjoy 😁 started off with the relationship hcs but let me know if you wanna see anything more specific!!

Warnings: FNAF movie spoilers, mentions of violence

⋆✮ Dating Mike Schmidt Includes: ✮⋆

➳ Mike's been through a hell of a lot ever since his little brother got kidnapped, so I'm seeing major protectiveness and sometimes even clinginess involved from him when you end up dating because 😭 guy's been through stuff and he's not letting anyone else he's close to get hurt

➳ To be honest, at first he's pretty closed-off with people, vulnerable with a tough exterior, so if you meet him in some scenario where you're tied up with the Freddy's murders and job, he'll try to be distant and professional and all... ending up failing 🙃

➳ Eventually you start. talking more about personal things, hobbies your lives, and he'll mention his sister Abby and having to take the job because he needs the money and is in the middle of the custody situation with his sister. He's got a lot going on and the trauma of what happened all those years ago still wringing at his guilt, so being able to talk with someone who doesn't judge in a relaxed place is a nice change for him having to be on guard all the time.

➳ When Mike befriends you, which is what happens first, he's got your back. If you need someone to vent to or hang out with or whatever, he'll do whatever he can to help, and when it comes to you being in a sticky situation or someone trying to hurt you or play you, he always seems to realise and is in no way afraid of confrontation to get them to back off.

➳ Like if William tries sizing you up a bit... and Mike gets annoyed with that cool, defensive glare as he asks if he needs anything (I've got to make an imagine of this nowwww). I think Mike would only realise that he's actually jealous if you teased about it, or if he really loses his temper with someone that's not leaving you alone or something. Then it really nags at him and makes him think about actually liking you as more than a friend, and then that initial reluctance because everyone he gets close to seems to have something bad happen to them, like it's a curse. At the end of the day, he just wants you to be safe.

➳ It would take something big for Mike to confess to you, unless you take the first step (aka Abby begging you to tell him you like him too because she's getting bored of him not concentrating on what she's talking to him about or the conversation somehow curving to you and the stuff you're into). Maybe you're attacked at Freddy's and you're all in on the crisis together when Mike stands firmly in front of you when William reveals himself, or he shoves you out the way so you won't get hurt, ultimately jumping in front of the threat without a worry of him getting hit instead. It's then that he realises how much he needs you in his life, how he needs you alive because you add some joy to it that he hasn't felt in all these years, a change from the darkness that his head's stuck in.

➳ It all comes out of him in a rush as he looks you up and down with wild eyes and a firm grip, asking if you're alright and saying in a rush that "you're one of the most important people in the world to me, and I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt... I- I couldn't live with myself, okay?!"

➳ Okayyy Mike, just kiss them 😏

➳ After you fight Afton together and get Vanessa looked after, you can finally breathe and properly start dating, which includes that familiar protectiveness and slight clinginess... and also being best friends with his little sister, which you 100% would be. You'd spend time drawing or chatting or playing random games while Mike was out working, eliminating the need for a babysitter because you're the perfect fit and get along with her great. And when he is home, you do a lot of stuff together, like a mini family, and there's finally that security and stability in that life she needed.

➳ I feel like Abby would find it hilarious to tell you all the sappy things Mike says about you on the rare occasions where you're not around, ending in Mike's cheeks flushing beet red and him picking her up and whirling her around playfully until she's in fits of laughter. "I heard Mike say that he found another reason to keep going when he realised he was in love wi- hey!!"

➳ Mike would be a bit clingy, again because of what happened with Garret; Mike being distracted for one moment and then blaming himself for the rest of his life because it was that moment where his brother was taken and killed. So if you are out, on a date or just around, this guy will not leave your side. He's the kind of person to text you again and again if you don't respond to the first message, and it's kind of cute how much he worries, but then he doesn't need to, and every now and then he'll need your reassurance that you guys are safe and that you won't leave him, which stills ends with him burying his face in your neck for a long tight hug for a while.

➳ MIKE'S A BIG HUGGER. CHANGE MY MIND.

➳ Whether you're watching a movie with him and Abby, or you're out on a date or sleeping or whatever, Mike will always have some contact with you if you've told him you're okay with it: fingers linked under the table, pressed into his side while you're watching TV (with an affectionate forehead kiss every five minutes 🥺) or being half crushed to death while you're trying to sleep when he rolls onto you and traps you under his leg... good luck if you need to go to the bathroom. Chances are he'll end up trailing after you with mumbled protests.

➳ That protectiveness always kicks in when someone looks at you for too long, or in a way that he doesn't like the look of, or if you're obviously uncomfortable with. If you're quick, you can just convince him to walk away and you two go somewhere else, because Mike will end up getting annoyed and giving the guy a line to get him to make them go away. If he's not careful, he might end up getting in a fight again, but he'll really try not to when you tell him off for it and promise him that things are okay and you're not going anywhere.

➳ You and Abby are basically Mike's world, after all that's happened, there are only really two people left that he truly cares for and would do anything for. Once you're in a relationship with him, he'll do everything he can to make sure you're safe and won't have to go through anything he had to. If ever you're upset, he'll listen for hours with no judgement and major support, whatever mood you're in somehow rubbing off on him. Mike will admit his feelings in a rush, and when he does, he's not afraid to tell you that he loves you whenever you need to hear it, or whenever he wants to say it and wants you to be reminded. It's something that you can never doubt.

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stagefoureddiediaz · 15 days

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honestly maybe it's just me but buck is literally repeating the same steps as with natalia and taylor as with tommy. they meet, he has a crush, go on a date, it's awful and the date leaves, they then come back, then try for real. Like it sounds like even though Buck is off the hamster wheel in regards to his sexuality he very much is still on the hamster wheel when it comes to repetitive mistakes when it comes to his relationships.

Hey Nonnie

I woudn't say that at all. Yes of course there are some similarities - there always will be - between Buck dating Tommy and the Buck who dated Taylor or Natalia. But the reality is they are worlds apart.

For starters Tommy didn't leave because the date was awful, he left to give Buck some space to do a bit more figuring out - he said so himself that his what he was doing. He chose to leave the ball in Bucks court, understanding this was a big new thing for him and that it wouldn't be right to continue anything until Buck was ready. Buck then contacted him when he was and they met up and decided mutually to give things ago.

This is very different to both Taylor and Natalia - both of whom left after something big had happened in Bucks life (Eddie being shot and Kameron popping up out of seemingly nowhere) and then they were the ones to come back - to chase after Buck.

Look we can have whole conversations about the chasing being chased aspect of things but the long and short of it is That both Taylor and (to a lesser extent) Natalia, Ali and Abby chased Buck in one way or another and when it suited them. Tommy has never chased Buck - he shot his shot, sure, made his interest known, but he hasn't once chased Buck. Buck has always mistaken things for him doing the chasing (he is an very unreliable narrator) becuse he gets invested fast and so pursues things. His mistake is moving to fast - falling to quickly for people.

This is the major fundamental difference with Tommy, who is older and wiser and settled with who he is and what he wants. He also has the understanding of being queer and coming out later in life - of discovering that part of yourself that has been hidden and the fact it might take Buck a minute to figure out things.

The other big thing for me is the level of honest Buck is being here - this isn't something we've seen before in this way. He has been completely up front with Tommy when it has been important for him to be so (I would argue he did do the same for Natalia but that he was more forced into it by circumstance). That coffee they had was a very very clear example of that, he sat down, appologised and laid his cards out on the table. He's told the two most important people in his life that he's bi and interested in Tommy and yes maybe going to a wedding is a bit fast, but he also knows most of the people there so he's not walking in to a big unknown in t hat respect and he has a lot of goodwill with the firefam at this moment after flying them to the curise ship so they could rescue Athena and Bobby.

In all honesty I'm far more circumspect about Natalias behaviour as well - far more than a large portion of fandom was towards her. Did I like her as a character or for Buck, No I didn't, but she also didn't do all that much wrong in my eyes, her wanting to take a minute when presented with all that Bucks life is, to think things through before jumping into something is perfectly acceptable and healthy behaviour. The reality is that she was more interested in Bucks death than she was in his life and thats probably what brought her back - that itching need to know more about his death and what it was like.

But she came into his life when he was in a rough place mentally and it was never going to go well for that reason alone. All of Bucks girlfriends have that in common - they met him on the job and then come inot his life when he is having some form of internal crisis. Abby when he had just lost his first person on the job - making him emotionally vulnerable. Ali when he's accepted his relationship with Abby wasn't going anywhere a new guy had just started at work (yes they were getting on by this point but it is still new and an unknown) and his sister had just come back into his life after having had no contact for several years - and he knows she's in a fragile place. Taylor messes hm around but when she comes back into his life and wants to date him - Eddie has just been shot and he's looking after Christopher - he's massively emotionally compromised. None of these are good times to start a romantic relationship.

That isn't the case with Tommy - Bucks actually in a pretty decent place - yes the whole discovering he's queer could be argued as making him emotionally compromised, but he's being given the grace to do things at his own pace - in a healthy way - Tommy is letting Buck dictate the pace they go at.

We also have to remember that we are in a tv show - every single character who isn't a main (or to a certain extent a recurring) is there to act as a storytelling vehicle for one of the mains - their character traits are always going to be those which help get a main character from A to B, to move the story along and to make sure our mains learn something about themselves and their fellow mains along the way.

Abby was about getting Buck from being a bit of a clueless player into a long term (ish) relationship - about growing him out of his jock ways and getting him (and us) to recognise that he isn't a player that he wants real love and a long term relationship. Ali was about him getting over his first big disappointment - about getting hm to move on and about getting him his own place to exist. Taylor was about learning what love didn't look like, about how to treat others and showing him what he wasn't looking for and teaching him not to compromise on his morals. Natalia was all about Buck reconciling himself with his death and rebirth and as soon as he had done that, she was gone.

Tommy is about Buck discovering his queer identity, having a safe space to explore that and about getting him ready for Eddie - its why Tommy is soooo similar to Eddie - Buck will come out of this relationship (whatever form it takes) understanding who he is, and recognising what he wants is what he already almost has - Eddie.

Tommy is also about helping manoeuvre Eddie into questioning himself - another reason why he is so similar to Eddie - Eddie needed to see a gay version of himself - and with Buck to actually start thinking about himself and who he is and what he wants.

So all this to say that Nonnie - Buck has very much got off that hamster wheel and he is very much not making the same mistakes over again. I'm very excited to see how it continues to play out and I'm overjoyed with how the show is handling telling this story.

#kym answers things #nonnie asks #It got long #brevity is not my strong suit 😬😂#911 spoilers #evan buckley #911 meta #tommy kinard #taylor kelly #natalia dollenmeyer #ali maritn #911 abc

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aberooski · 1 month

Text

I just had momentary breakdown and screamed and cried in the kitchen in front of my whole family so that was great 🙃

#I hate myself so much I love ruining everyone's night over the bread sticking to the pan for a grilled cheese #goddammit #abby's self depreciation hour #abby's having a crisis

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half-bakedboy · 15 days

Note

For bucktommy! “For some reason, I’m attracted to you.”

read on ao3

Buck knows objectively that dating a guy is much different than dating a girl. He’s done enough research—if a lot of articles like Dating Advice for Gay, Bi, and Pansexual Men count—about how dating someone new is supposed to be exciting and nerve-wracking, and dating men isn’t going to feel any different than dating a woman.

If that’s all true, then why has he never felt so awkward in his life?

He’s sitting across from Tommy at this quaint Italian restaurant that Maddie once mentioned wanting Chimney to take her to and all he feels is unsettled. The table is too small between them and Buck worries that if either of them moves, their knees will knock over everything on top of it. Buck ordered white wine because it seemed like the classy choice but he hates wine, and Tommy ordered a red wine that makes him wince every time he swallows.

The butter is as hard as a rock and Buck refuses to eat bread without it ever since his first date with Abby. Somehow, this date almost rivals Abby performing a tableside tracheotomy because Buck choked on the dry bread he’d shoved in his mouth to tame that awkwardness.

He catches himself glancing down consideringly at the basket of bread rolls before him but looks away abruptly when Tommy breaks the silence.

“So, this is a nice place,” Tommy decides. Buck nods and grabs both sides of the small table with a white-knuckled grip. “How’d you find it?”

“Maddie! My sister,” he says, unsure how much their mutual friends have told him. “Chim’s girlfriend. Fiance actually, but uh, my sister. She suggested it to me.”

“As a place to grab drinks?” Tommy asked with a raised eyebrow.

Buck shook his head. “As a place for a date,” Buck says proudly, tipping his chin up a little, challenging anyone to say a damn word about it. A small smile tugs at the corner of Tommy’s lips at the words.

“You told your sister you had a date? Did you tell her…” The rest of the question is obvious, but Tommy pulls back like he’s unsure whether he should ask.

“That this is my first date with a dude?” Buck finishes for him. Tommy chuckles and takes a sip of his classic red wine. He presses his lips together as he swallows and nods. “Not necessarily, but Tommy isn’t exactly a gender-neutral name.”

“Hey, it’s a big step. I’m proud of you either way,” Tommy says softly.

He reaches for Buck’s hand across the table like he’s testing the waters. It should be a cute moment, but Buck panics—an obnoxious casualty of his sexuality crisis—and turns his palm up to welcome the first public sign of affection between them, knocking over both of their glasses of water, drenching the aforementioned bread rolls.

Buck immediately thinks it’d be hard to choke himself with them now.

“God, I am so sorry.” Buck panics, stands up too abruptly, and the knees he was so previously concerned about hit the edge of the table painfully, sending Tommy’s almost empty plate onto his lap along with the remnants of water on the table.

Buck feels his face heat up like a furnace and he closes his eyes in hopes that this is all some fever dream born out of his fears of his newfound sexuality. But Tommy is chuckling and a waitress is apologizing like this is somehow her fault and Buck has to accept that he really is just bad at this.

He has his hands white-knuckled on the back of his chair and he’s considering just running away when a gentle hand rests over his. When he looks up, Tommy is still grinning—Buck doesn’t understand how he just keeps smiling through it all—like he isn’t covered in all of Buck’s mistakes.

“Evan,” Tommy mutters. There’s humor in the voice and Buck feels like he might actually die if Tommy makes fun of him. “Do you wanna get out of here?” Tommy asks. Buck’s eyebrows pull together and he sees the moment Tommy reads his mind. “C’mon, Kid.”

Tommy somehow unglues Buck’s hand from the chair to maneuver them toward the door. Buck apologizes to every waitstaff he sees, but it doesn’t matter. They’re all looking at him with so much pity that Buck feels like one of the patients on his calls. It’s a feeling he really hates, especially when Tommy must notice the stares, too.

Once they’re outside, Buck blurts, “Please don’t tell Eddie how bad this is going.”

Tommy snorts out his laughter like he’s been holding it in for hours. Buck should be mortified, but Tommy’s hand is still gripped in his and it’s firm and warm and much larger than his own.

“Oh, I’m gonna,” Tommy promises. Buck attempts to pull his hand away but Tommy only squeezes tighter. “Evan, c’mere.”

This time, Tommy pulls him into a warm hug while they stand in the cool night air. Buck breathes him in, eyes closing as he relaxes into the touch. He’s rarely smaller than those he hugs, and he’s never been smaller than someone he’s hugged like this. It’s almost like Tommy is ensuring Buck knows he’s still interested. Even after the awkwardness and tragedy, Tommy knows Buck has more to offer and is willing to find out.

It means so much to Buck that when Tommy pulls away, he has to stop himself from gripping even tighter at Tommy’s broad shoulders. He doesn’t move far, though, and keeps one hand on Buck’s waist, playing with the fabric there like he’s somehow more nervous than Buck. When he starts walking, Buck follows, finding no reason not to trust wherever Tommy is taking them.

“Are you… okay with all of this?” Tommy asks. Buck blanches because he never once considered his inability to remain calm around this man to come off as some sort of internalized homophobia.

“Y-Yes! I’m—Are you okay with this? With me?” Tommy tilts his head inquisitively, cocking an eyebrow up like he doesn’t know exactly. “C’mon, don’t pretend that this wasn’t the worst date you’ve ever been on.”

“I’ve been on a lot of bad dates, Evan,” Tommy says.

Though, it’s not as reassuring as Buck thinks he meant it to be.

Tommy sighs. “I think that we both wanted this to be perfect. For some reason, I’m attracted to you,” he teases, “and I wanted to woo you on your first ‘date with a dude’,” he mocks, earning a smack from Buck. “I remember how terrifying my first public date with a man was, so I can imagine how you were feeling leading up to this.”

“It was scary for you, too?” Buck asks shyly. He’s more reassured by that fact than anything else. In his attempts to not be weird about the date, he tried to hide his fears—this is something so new and important to him but it might not be a singular experience.

“Oh my God, yes!” Tommy laughs. “It was with a dancer. A small guy who looked like he walked straight out of the magazines I used to keep under my bed when I was a teenager.”

“I forgot you grew up in the 80s,” Buck teases. Tommy pinches his waist in retaliation and Buck squirms just a little closer to him.

“Since he was a dancer, I tried to find us a club. You know, dancing at a club was a stereotypically gay thing I could do to prove to this guy I was, in fact, gay. Like the asking-on-a-date part wasn’t explanatory enough.”

“Dancing’s a good first date!” Buck argues, not yet seeing the downside to this conversation.

“Oh, it can be! Except I was terrified to fuck it up, so trusted some stranger on the internet to recommend a spot.”

“Oh no,” Buck mutters.

“Oh, yes,” Tommy agrees. He winces like the memory has been repressed for a little too long. “It was a swingers, leather club. Needed a password to get in.”

“The stranger didn’t give you the password, did he?” Buck guesses.

“Worse. My date knew it and ditched me almost the second we got inside.”

“Oh no,” Buck repeats, though he’s holding back laughter. Tommy waves him on.

“Go ahead, go ahead. Get your laughs out.”

Buck does, throwing his head back for a moment before looking back over at Tommy. He’s staring at Buck like he’s made of sunshine and Buck has never felt brighter.

“So, is this your way of telling me you're into leather, then?” Buck jokes.

“It’s my way of telling you,” Tommy stops, turns, and makes sure he’s looking directly into Buck’s eyes, “that first dates are terrifying no matter who you are with, but how you feel about someone at the end is all that matters.”

“Yeah?” Buck asks. He feels small with Tommy’s eyes on him, with Tommy’s hand around his waist, sliding to the small of his back where he’s unused to being touched so gently.

“Yeah,” Tommy agrees. Buck waits until Tommy glances down at his lips before he smiles.

“And how do you feel about me?” Buck asks. He brings his hands up to put one of Tommy’s broad shoulders and the other brushes a strand of Tommy’s hair back. The red that blooms on Tommy’s cheeks makes Buck’s heart sore.

“I feel…” Tommy begins to lean forward and Buck’s ready for the kiss this time. He isn’t going to be surprised. He knows what to do with his hands. He’s ready to show Tommy that he knows how to kiss better than he knows how to date.

But then Tommy’s gone, and when Buck realizes it, they’re already a few feet apart, Tommy walking backward down the street.

He shouts, “I feel a little damp and sticky. Come back to my place so we can fix that?”

Buck runs after him, shouting, “Is that an innuendo? I don’t get them all yet!”

Contagious laughter echoes through the almost empty streets, and joy thrums through Buck’s entire being. Awkwardness aside, he thinks he could easily get used to this.

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #kinkley #911 on abc #911 spoilers #911 #911 fic #long post #answered #anonymous #this turned so long so i put it on a03 first alskjdf;lasd #i just love bucks awkwardness #should've put in an ally mention tho a;lsdjkfl;as #lmao

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theveesbf · 26 days

Note

shit sorry! here’s a diff one with oliver!

oliver x anxious! reader?

(my first statement still stands on my first ask lol)

Oliver X Anxious!Reader

☆notes - hii abby!! Don't worry it's fine😭🙏 and I'm glad I'm recruiting people to the oliver fanclub 😈

☆content - headcanons of oliver x reader who's anxious

☆warnings - none

☆characters - oliver

[♡] Oliver

Before you and Oliver got closer, he'd be very annoying about you and how anxious you were. Especially when he was teasing you or something.

But now that you two are close, he tries to have more consideration of you and how you're feeling.

Oliver still teases you a lot, he can't help it. But if you get too uncomfortable with it, he's toning it down.

Whenever you're having an anxiety attack, Oliver takes you to the quiest place he can find, and staying there with you.

He's not the best at comforting people, so he basically just sits awkwardly next you, asking you if you need anything.

If someone is the reason to trigger those crisis, Oliver is more than happy to give them a little lesson.

He's open to get some suggestions on how he could help you since Oliver has literally no idea on how to do that.

Oliver has you next to him all the time, and he's mostly holding your hand. In case something happens, he can take you aside more easily.

#✮ zip's works #☆ mootie abby #fundamental paper education x reader #fundamental paper education #fpe oliver #fpe #fpe x reader #oliver x reader #oliver #oliver fundamental paper education

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totallynormalnotreally · 21 days

Text

Ok so here are my thoughts on the sneak peek or next week's episode:

Ignore the horrible quality screen-caps

The vibes. They went to a cute Italian place which feels very homey - nothing like where buck has been on dates in the past (mainly coffee shops and bars). They split a pizza, and ordered a pitcher. Possibly beer since that's what they discussed, but honestly could also be ice tea. The napkins are used, which suggests that Tommy is either looking at a dessert menu, or the bill. If he's paying for them both, I could see Buck not knowing what to do with that.

2. Tommy's face. When Buck says he's "not weirded out" Tommy gives him such a look. To me this means 'oh this man is freaking out'. I don't think Tommy realized that this was Buck's first date with a guy. Yet, Buck is smiling - so I don't think he's unhappy, just out of the comfort zone, which is to be expected. His little head shake when he admits that this is his first time seems almost embarrassed.

3. This is from the next clip, when Eddie and Marisol show up. I've seen some people speculate about a double date, but this is unlikely to me because they are sitting at a 2 person table, and have already eaten, when Eddie and Marisol just arrived. It is unclear if this comes before or after the other wide shot, because there is more pizza, but less drink. Also, body language. Tommy is open and happy to see Eddie, but Buck looks like he wishes he could hide under the table. His face, his hands awkwardly on the table...

4. In the clip from the call, the guy is choking buck. My screen-cap is horrible but its clear what is going on. My guess is that this is after the date, because Buck's shirt is open decently at the restaurant and it feels like the guy is latched on hard enough to bruise. Interesting choice to give Buck laryngeal trauma in the episode where he gets Italian - reminds me of Abby and the bread incident in S1.

My overall timeline for this ep goes like this:

Buck talks to Eddie about ankleggate and Eddie asks him if there's anything else and he says no

Date

starts off great

This is my first date with a dude

this was great

Eddie shows up

You're a little tense

semi-awkward ending to the date

Crazy hand call

Station awkwardness/Buck feels like hes lying to Eddie

Existential crisis with Maddie/Hen

Henren baby drama and Eddie's relationship drama

Going to go talk to Eddie

Eddie says he and Marisol broke up

End of ep

Of course with multiple scenes of Hen and Eddie's lives.

#911 abc #evan buckley #911 s7 #eddie diaz #buddie #tommy kinard #maddie buckley #hen wilson #911 spoliers #911 season 7 #911 spec #7x04 #7x05 #911 meta

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azk0re · 5 months

Text

…and they were roommates! (pt. 1)

pairing: roommate!abby x black!reader

synopsis: your sophomore year of college is starting in a few weeks, and you’re in dire need of a roommate. abby just so happens to be in a similar situation…

warnings: mdni, abby is bi (no bi erasure on this page), slightly older abby, reader is black, reader is femme, reader is a simp tbh, strong language used, (y/n) is used (i had to guys i’m sorry T-T)

an: i’m so terrified of posting this it’s not even funny T-T. i’ve had a really shitty week and wanted to post something about my favorite buff masc so here’s this. i know it’s bad but please be nice! i hope you enjoy. look out for part 2 because it’s coming soon! - with love, ellie ♡

You were having an absolute fucking crisis. At the college you attended, all students were required to stay in a dorm their first year but could move out their sophomore year if they wanted to. You definitely wanted to move out especially after having a nightmare for a roommate your freshman year who snored like a banshee, always brought guys over, and, after finding out about your sexuality, constantly accused you of wanting to sleep with her even though she was far from your type.

In order to move out, freshmen had to alert the school of their decision at the end of their last semester of their first year and they only gave students a month to go back on their choice. You were not aware of this and, by the time you were, you’re month had very well passed and you still hadn’t been able to secure a place to stay. It seemed like every one and two bedroom apartment near the school was taken by someone.

You even asked the few friends you had that attended the school if you could room with them but all of them either had a one bedroom apartment or were rooming with someone else.

So, essentially, you were fucked.

You only had a few weeks to figure something out before school started and you were beginning to get desperate. Finally, after days of sulking over your shitty situation and complaining about it for an hour over the phone to your best friend, Heaven, she gave you the idea of looking through the school’s online bulletin to see if anyone had posted a ‘roommate wanted’ post recently.

The only problem with that idea was the fact that the school’s online bulletin was notoriously difficult to navigate. The layout was horrible and the website had no filtering system so all posts from different years were just mixed onto the website and, for that reason, most people didn’t use it.

It took you two days of sifting through hundreds upon hundreds of old roommate wanted posts to find a recent one. You were just about to give up the hunt for the night when you came across it.

The post itself was very short and simple. The original poster hadn’t put much information about herself other than that her name was Abby, she was a junior, what her email address was and the fact that she was looking for a roommate after accidentally renting a two bedroom apartment instead of a one bedroom apartment.

The moment you saw it, you opened up your gmail account and typed out a very quick email before sending it and finally turning in for the night. The next morning you saw a reply from this mystery Abby woman, asking to meet at a coffee shop in town for lunch for a small interview and to discuss the intricacies of the arrangement which you, of course, agreed to. An email was sent back to you almost immediately giving you the coffee shop’s address and where Abby would be in the coffee shop.

Knowing this was going to be one of those ‘first impressions are very important’ moments you put on one of your favorite outfits that fit the somewhat chilly, early autumn weather that included a tan mini skirt, black long-sleeve turtle neck, black boots, and you’re favorite pair of cream leg warmers, before heading out to the coffee shop.

When you entered the little shop, it finally dawned on you that you had no idea what this lady looked like. All you knew was her name and what booth she was going to be sitting in. So, as you made your way to the back corner of the shop where Abby had instructed you to go to, you couldn’t help but imagine what she could possibly look like. A million different ideas ran through your head as you walked. Maybe she was brunette? She was probably taller than you but not by much, and you imagined her voice to be similar to yours.

What you definitely weren’t expecting to see as you drew closer to the booth was a buff woman with dark blonde, almost brown, hair sitting at the table that you had previously been instructed to go to. The woman was absolutely stunning with her hair tied back, a few strands left out to frame her face, freckles splayed across her cheeks, and her brow furrowed in concentration. Her outfit itself was definitely more on the masculine side which is something you did not anticipate. Even just sitting there, typing away on the laptop in front of her, she looked very intimidating.

When you finally approached the table, you cleared you throat, effectively gaining her attention. Her blue-grey eyes were piercing as she turned her full attention to you, raising an eyebrow in question, “Um, hi, are you Abby?”

A small smile graced her features as she nods her head just so, “I am,” she confirms, her voice catches you by surprise. It definitely fit her face, deep and smooth, but it wasn’t what you thought she would sound like. “I assume you’re (Y/N)?”

Her question snatches you out of your own head. You nod and she motions toward the spot across from her, silently inviting you to sit with her. After clearing her laptop off the table top, she once again turns her gaze to you and you can feel the familiar feeling of anxiety rise in your chest.

“So, let’s cut straight to the chase,” she begins, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms, “you want to be my roommate, right?”

You nod.

“Well, I have spoken to many people interested in rooming with me and a lot of them haven’t been very…fitting for me.” Just by the way she’s speaking and the look on her face, you can tell that she’s probably ran into some of the weirdos on campus, “But, from just looking at you, I think you’d be a good roommate but I do have some questions and things I’d like to discuss before I make a final decision.”

You nod.

Abby grabs a small black notebook that was sat beside a cup of what looked to be straight black coffee, before flipping open to a page and speaking again.

“Okay, so, for one, I think a huge part of what will make this work best for the both of us is full transparency. I’m gonna tell you what I need in a roommate and I want you to tell me what you need in a roommate, and then we can kind of decide whether or not we’d work well together, okay?,” she asks, looking you straight in the eyes as she speaks. Her gaze is unwavering and intimidating, analyzing every bit of you that she could see.

You nod again, “Okay.”

“Alright then,” she starts, “I’ve never really shared a living space with anyone before. Freshman year, I had a single dorm and sophomore year, I had a one-bedroom apartment. I’m a very private, organized, and clean person and I like my space to reflect that. Therefore, what I need from a roommate is for them to respect my space, my privacy, and just keep up with their end of the chores and house care.”

You nod again.

“Other than that, for the sake of being fully transparent, I have to tell you now that I am bisexual so if that’s going to be a problem then this arrangement will not work.“

Abby’s words catch you off guard. From the look of her, it made sense, but you always tried your hardest not to place a label on anyone based on their appearance. Abby studies the hesitance on your face but she doesn’t say anything, she just stares in silence as you collect yourself before finally speaking.

“Okay, um, that won’t be a problem at all.” You say, speaking honestly but you can tell by the look on Abby’s face that she isn’t convinced just yet.

“Are you sure?” She questions, leaning forward slightly, her voice slightly deeper than it had been a moment ago, and her eyes burning holes into your own.

“Yes, 1000% sure,” you smile at her, trying to ease the nervousness rising in your chest at her intense stare, “I mean, it definitely won’t be a problem for me considering the fact that I am a lesbian.”

Abby hums and you can visibly see the tension leave her shoulders as she relaxes back into her seat, “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” you confirm, “I was actually worried about that being an issue with you but it’s nice to know that it wouldn’t be.”

Abby nods and, after a moment of slightly awkward silence, she says, “What are the things that you would need from a roommate?”

“Um,” you start taking a moment to think Edie’s speaking again, “I think I basically need just about the same things. I like my space but, if we’re being 100% honest, I am not a very social person but I can be quite…clingy?” Uncertainty is present in your voice as you speak, not really sure if that would be the best word choice.

“Clingy?” Abby questions, raising an eyebrow, “How so?”

“I mean, I guess clingy wouldn’t be the best word for it,” you mumble, looking away from Abby’s intense stare and out of the window, “I like to talk to people a lot and sometimes I enter other people’s space without realizing it. I understand that some people don’t like that, so if we were to live together I’d want you to create boundaries and stand on those boundaries so that I don’t make you uncomfortable.”

You look back over to Abby, feeling much more confident in the way in which you’d phrased what you felt. Abby slowly nods in understanding after a moment, uncrossing her arms to jot something down on her little notepad, before looking back at you.

“Anything else?” She inquires.

“Other than that I just need you to be courteous and, um, when you have company over be respectful of the fact that I may be there and may need the apartment to be relatively quiet.”

Abby nods, “I can do that. I don’t typically have others over anyway.”

Abby jots something else down on her little notebook before looking back at you, “Okay, now I just a few questions for you and then you can ask me whatever you want, okay?”

You nod.

“Do you have a partner?”

You shake your head, “No.”

“Do you like to have friends over often?”

“Sort of?” You admit, “It’s usually just my best friend and her girlfriend, though.”

Abby nods, scribbling something down again on her notepad, “Do you know what your schedule will look like for the semester?”

You nod, “Most of my classes are late morning, early afternoon or evening classes, so I would be home most of the morning and sporadically throughout the afternoon and evening.”

Abby nods, taking a moment to write some more things down before continuing, “This one’s kind of odd but are you a morning person?”

“Sometimes,” you respond, “there’s days when I wake and I’m ready to tackle the day but there’s also days where I wake up and I want to slam my head against a slab of concrete.”

“I understand the feeling,” Abby snorts, smiling slightly accentuating a cute little dimple on her cheek that makes your own smile a little wide, “I think that’s the last of the questions I have for you. Do you have any for me?”

“Um,” you take a moment to think before settling lamely on your first question, “are you a morning person?”

“I am, I get up at 5 am every morning.”

You groan, “Why put yourself through that every day.”

Abby chuckles, “It’s not that bad. I just like to get my workout in early,” she shrugs, “it keeps me energized throughout the day.”

As you take in her answer, you can’t help but let your eyes wander over her broad shoulders and toned arms, straining against the tight fabric of her long sleeve shirt. You can definitely tell that she works out every day. After a moment, you realize you’re staring and snap your eyes back to her face to see her looking directly at you with a smug expression on her face.

You quickly look away from her own and down at your hands which were sat interlaced on the table in front of you. You felt the tell-tale feeling of embarrassment seep into you. You clear your throat, trying to ignore the butterflies now beating against your ribcage, “So, what will your schedule look like?”

“For this semester, I’ll be out most of the morning and home around late afternoon, hopefully.”

You nod, finally looking back up her to see that the smugness was gone for the most part but she still had a small smirk on her face, “Do you have any hobbies that would be nice to know about beforehand?”

“I play guitar and I play on our school’s rugby team, so during the fall and spring semester I’ll be gone often because of practice and also because of work.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I forgot our school had a rugby team,” you admit almost sheepishly, “I wanted to come to some of the games last year but I was always too busy.”

Abby hums in acknowledgement, “Hopefully you’ll be able to come this year, we’re going to be having quite a few interesting games against rival schools.”

“Yeah, hopefully,” you agree, “um, I can’t really think of any other questions.”

Abby nods at the admission, “I don’t think we’ll have any problems living together. I quite like your company and you’re a lot better than some of the other prospective roommates I’ve met.”

You smile at the praise, “So…does that mean I’ve passed this…interview?”

Abby chuckles at the question, “Yes, it does. You can be my roommate.”

“Oh thank goodness!” You exclaim, slumping down into the booth behind you dramatically getting another chuckle out of Abby, “You have no idea how much you just saved my life. I couldn’t find an apartment for the life of me and I was so worried about having a roommate.”

“Have you never a roommate before?” Abby asks, amusement apparent on her face and in the tone of her voice.

“Oh, no, I’ve had a roommate before.” You sigh, remembering the suffering she put you through, “I had one last year actually, but she was pretty awful and I was just afraid of having another bad one.”

Abby hums, “Well, I hope I haven’t disappointed you yet.”

“You have not,” your assure her, giggling a bit, “trust me, you’re a hundred times better than she was.”

“What was so bad about her?”

You sigh, “She was just not very…kind. She was quite selfish actually.” You admit, “She was very messy and she would bring guys over to mess around with even when I was there and basically kick me out so she could do her…thing.”

Abby’s face contorts into one of pure irritation as you speak, “That’s awful.”

“Yeah, it really was,” you agree, “she also was convinced that I had a thing for her after finding out I was a lesbian. She wasn’t even my type! She was far from it.”

Abby nods, looking at you sympathetically, “I hate when people assume that.”

“So do I,” you sigh, again before smiling up at Abby, “but it’s alright. It’s in the past now.”

Abby smiles back, nodding again, “Yeah, now you have me as roommate and I promise that I will try my best to give you a better experience than that.”

You and Abby sat in the little coffee shop for a few more hours, getting to know one another better before heading on your separate ways for the time being, but not before exchanging numbers.

The next day, Abby texted you the address to the apartment, and told you that you could start moving in whenever but just to let her know so that she could be home to help. The two of you continued to text routinely almost every day until the day you were supposed to move in.

A week after you guys met in the coffee shop, you were ready to move in and had texted Abby as much. The plan was to start moving in that day with the help of Abby and your best friend, Heaven. In your mind, the move itself would be pretty easy and straightforward since you didn’t have a ton of stuff. In total, you probably had fifteen or so boxes and a few bags which all fit nicely in the tiny U-Haul you’d rented. The rest of your furniture and stuff would be moved in later in the day by a moving company, so nothing that you had with you was too heavy.

When you arrived, you texted Abby to let her know, expecting her to come out in something similar to what she’d had on the day you met, a simple shirt and jeans, but you were mistaken.

When Abby came out, both you and Heaven were distracted with taking things out of the U-Haul, it wasn’t until she called out your name that you noticed her walking up to the two of you. Her appearance caught you off guard…again.

Her hair was essentially the same, tied in the back and braided into a long braid that cascaded over her shoulder with a few pieces out in the front, but her outfit was dramatically different. This time she was dressed in what seemed to be gym attire. Black shorts that hugged her pretty tight, a black muscle tee, white Nike socks and sneakers. The main thing that caught your eye wasn’t really her attire though, it was the dark ink that littered her arms and thick thighs.

You were mesmerized, stuck staring until Heaven smacked you discreetly on the behind, hissing a reprimand at you about you staring at your new roommate like a piece of meat all through a polite smile that was pointed in Abby’s direction.

You quickly tried to pull your shit together as Abby reached the two of you, smiling kindly at the both of you, not seeming to have noticed you gawking at her only moments before. After introducing Abby and Heaven, the three of you began working on your boxes.

You were all able to get your things inside the apartment and into your room pretty quickly. You kept getting distracted though by the absolutely delicious view that was Abby Anderson.

You knew she was obviously strong just by the look of her physique but you couldn’t get over how easily she picked up all of your heaviest boxes without even breaking a sweat. Her outfit left nothing to your imagination, and it made it hard for you to focus causing you to run into and drop things all too often.

When you guys were finally done, Abby had left you and Heaven alone to relax and get you all drinks as the two of you began to go through your things.

Heaven kept giving you a look that you were pointedly trying to ignore. Eventually, she got tired of being subtle and hissed your name, “You need to get it together, girl.”

“I’m trying.” You whine, quietly.

Heaven sighs, glancing over to and out of the open door to check to see if Abby was coming or not. When she confirmed that the other woman was still downstairs she leaned toward you, “I get it, babe. She’s hot as hell but she’s also your roommate now. You’ve gotta tread lightly.”

“You have a girlfriend, you can’t call other people hot.” You throw back at her trying your best to ignore the last bit of her sentence.

Heaven rolls her eyes, “As if Ellie would give a shit,” she snorts, “we point out hot women to each other, and, trust me, if my baby was here, she’d agree with me and add a lot more vulgar comments.”

You ignore her statement knowing how true it was, sighing to yourself instead, you halt your work on the box of your belongings in front of you, “What am I gonna do, Heaven? She’s completely my type. I thought I could do it before, y’know? At the coffee shop it felt fine because I couldn’t see all of her, but now…”

“It’s the tattoos ain’t it?” Heaven teases with a shit-eating grin and you whine nodding your head before flopping backward on to the floor beneath you, laying flat on your back. Heaven simply laughs at your pain, enjoying the dramatic display in front of her.

“I mean, she might be hot but there’s no way she’s gay, right?” Heaven says, giggling a bit as she turns her attention back to the box of your belonging in front of her. When she’s met with no answer she looks at you, squinting, “Right, (Y/N)?”

“She’s bi,” you whisper with a sigh, covering your face with your hands.

Heaven gasps, dropping whatever she was holding back into the box, “You’re lying!”

“I’m not!” You groan, “I wish I was.”

“Oh, honey,” Heaven says, sounding sympathetic now, “the only thing you can do is try not to fall for her.”

You groan once again in absolute defeat. There was no way you were going to be able to manage that.

“Maybe she’s got a boyfriend or a girlfriend or something and you won’t have to deal with her being single and hot as hell.” Heaven offers, going back to rustling through the box in front of her.

You’re about to say something about how that wont help much at all because it would just piss you off to see her with someone else, when you hear the sound of footsteps approaching the room. You shut your mouth quickly and turn your attention to the doorway of the room, seeing Abby with three bottles of cold water, still looking as mesmerizing as before.

Abby hands a bottle to Heaven and then to you before speaking, “I’m sorry for taking a while to come back, I had to take a phone call.”

She opens the lid of her own water bottle and takes a few gulps from it, pulling your attention to her adam’s apple as it bobs in her throat.

Heaven nudges you with her foot, once again pulling you out of your embarrassing staring before Abby could see.

“It’s no biggie,” Heaven says, snickering a bit as she answers for the both of you knowing that you are far too distracted to respond to Abby.

Abby smiles at Heaven after pulling away from her water bottle, turning her attention to you, “The call was about your key. It’ll be ready tomorrow, so when I get back from the gym I’ll pick it up and bring it home to you, yeah?”

You nod, still too distracted to speak.

Abby doesn’t seem to think anything of your lack of verbal response, instead she just nods as well, “I’m gonna head to the gym. If you girls get hungry please help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I’ll be back in about an hour and a half, okay?”

You nod again and Abby spares you one more sweet smile, before telling Heaven that it was nice to meet her which Heaven, of course, reciprocates, and leaving the room.

When Abby is far enough away from the room, Heaven turns to you and shakes her head, “Girl, you are so fucked.”

You knew she was right but you didn’t have the energy to respond verbally, so instead you just cover your face with your arms and groan.

You were far beyond fucked.

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